Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ The First Death ❯ Chapter 7: The True Death, Part 3 ( Chapter 7 )

The True Death, Part 3

Summary: The Shinigami arrive in Kyoto as Hisoka and Tsuzuki join the hunt for Saki.

Spoilers through Kyoto arc.

Note: Please excuse any formatting problems - I'm trying to upload this quickly before I leave the country (be back on the 22nd of July). When I get a chance, I will fix any formatting issues.

|Saki|

Good morning. I didn't think you'd be awake this early.

I'm glad you're doing well. At least, as well as can be expected. Sorry that it's so cold in here, but it can't be helped. It keeps the systems from overheating.

So. I want to let you know what's been going on recently.

I have the chip. Oh, don't be so upset with me. What my blossom doesn't know won't hurt him. You see, it's one of those delicate situations - if I had asked, I could have chanced the possibility of him refusing me, and becoming suspicious. If I had waited, he could have disposed of or moved what I need. And really, I do need Kazutaka's research so very much. I've been waiting and planning for years for this moment.

Hmm? That's right, I never told you.

As you recall, my brother inherited files from our paternal grandfather. You know he has two copies. One's the original hard copy, which as far as my inquiries have taken me, is in a safety-deposit box in a bank in Tokyo. Not entirely accessible. The other, a microchip backup, he kept with him at all times. Including all his other important research.

Which brings me here to you. You're going to help me with the data extraction, right? Oh, please, don't give me that face…besides; aren't you getting bored here by yourself? I promise you that things will change once we get this data extraction done, but you have to make the first step. What's your choice?

Well then, here's the microchip. I had to clean it because it had somehow gotten bloody, but it should function correctly. Yes, blood. Please don't worry; no one was hurt. It was like this when I got it.

I hope you can extract what I need, because it was a real piece of work to get this. Ah, Oriya. I truly hope that he won't be too angry with me. But I left him a little something that I think he'll appreciate, in case he ever checks for what I took.

Please understand that I would like this information as soon as possible. I trust that you won't damage it to protect Kazutaka, because I can assure you that consequences along those lines would be quite fatal for your future health and well-being. After all, as you can see, I have a laboratory full of rather ingenious viruses and bacterium that I've engineered, and certainly no humans to test them on.

In any case, I've hit a particular stage in my work where this information is very vital. Extracting some decades old paperwork for me shouldn't affect your sense of ethics. Loyalty to the dead is sorely misplaced - you should think about the living and yourself, for once.

Isn't that better?

*******

|Hisoka|

Monday morning in Meifu. The sun's out, the birds sing, and me…well, I'm kicking Tsuzuki's door.

"WAKE UP, BAKAAAA!"

Lovely.

"Mmm, I'm awake, I'm awake…" A disheveled, half-dressed Tsuzuki opens the door groggily. His hair is sticking up in all sorts of random directions, and his shirt is buttoned up half-heartedly. "Is it time to go to work already?"

"Yes! It's already 7:30 A.M." I point at the clock in his living room. "Even if there's nothing going on in the office, we shouldn't be late."

Tsuzuki yawns. "7:30? That means we still have some time. Wanna come in?"

"Well, I really think that we…wah?"

It's a sudden embrace. And a very thorough kiss.

Tsuzuki releases me.

"Good morning, Hisoka," he says with a wink, as he wanders off to finish dressing.

"G-good morning."

***

So now he's grumbly. This is mainly because I insisted that we go to work, even though he kept saying something about calling in sick and then spending the day in bed. I sort of think I know what he's referring to, but really, I don't want to know. I think. Okay, don't consider it anymore, Kurosaki, because you're going to make yourself blush. Gyah.

Since that day I slept over a few weekends ago, we've gotten a lot closer. I guess we're at that stage where we do that whole kissing and hugging thing a lot more than people who are just friends, but that's pretty much it.

I think some people might call this dating.

Not that I have a problem with how it's going. I have a feeling that well…um…you know, *other* stuff won't happen for a while. Mainly because we're both a little bit skittish.

So we're walking to the general administration building, and he's pouting. It's sort of cute, but it's really beginning to irritate me a little. I'm not much of a morning person, even if I do get up obscenely early when I have to, and feeling him be so displeased so early makes me feel like it could throw my day off if I don't do something about it.

"Here," I say. I stick out my hand toward him without looking.

"Hi~so~kaaaa." His voice has a ring of pleasure to it as he grasps my hand, entwining his warm fingers with mine. His hand is soft, but for the slightly roughened spots on his fingers where he handles the ofuda. I can feel his happiness come bubbling forth like the opening of a champagne bottle. It's…well, sparkly.

I smile, a little, inadvertent smile. His happiness is really contagious, so much so that you don't need to be an empath to pick up on it.

I think it's going to be a really, really nice day.

Hey, I wonder if the other divisions are back yet.

***

"Oh, look who managed to drag himself into the office this morning." Terazuma's at the photocopier, making extra copies of the request forms. "How's slacking, slacker?"

"Shut up," Tsuzuki snarls as he sits at his desk. His annoyance is like a slap in the face. I sit down in the desk that faces him, wondering if this is going to end in property damage. "What's your problem, freak? I thought you were babysitting in Tokyo."

"Now now…" Wakaba interrupts as she walks into the office with some files, which she hands over to Terazuma for copying. "Hajime, apologize. Tsuzuki, if you talk like that to Hajime, it'll hurt my feelings…"

"Ah, sorry, sorry," Tsuzuki says, suitably contrite.

"Yeah, sorry you're dead weight in this department," Terazuma mutters.

"Hajime!"

"Fine, my apologies. But I've got work to do, unlike *some* people, so slackers had better stay out of the way," Terazuma says as he adds more paper to the copier.

"Hey, what are you two working on?" I say, before Tsuzuki can respond. Hopefully, if I can't put out the fires, I can at least keep them from getting out of control. "Are you still helping with those Tokyo cases?"

"Yeah, it got complicated," Terazuma says, as he presses the buttons on the machine, making certain that the settings are correct. "We spent all night last night doing research with the Gushoushin. Muraki's still there going over the final details of the case before we head out. I need to get this done so we can get an appointment at the death registry before noon so we can go to Kyoto and interview Muraki's friend."

"On a Sunday? Is it an emergency?" The air's filled with a seething tension. I better keep the questions coming if I don't want them to blow something else up. I'm sort of fond of this desk, and the fact that my head's attached to my body. Sometimes I wonder why the Chief doesn't just send these two idiots to counseling or something, because their rivalry has gotten out of hand at least a few times in their history.

"Sort of. We found out last night that Muraki's brother is still alive. Apparently that whole not staying dead thing runs in the family," Terazuma says as he finishes up the copies. "So we decided we should start hauling ass on this new case so that the kid doesn't go batshit on us and start making things a lot messier for everyone."

"Muraki's brother…" Tsuzuki blinks, astonished. "But I thought he was dead."

"Yeah, and thus the registry," Terazuma says, as he stacks the papers. "Now I gotta get this to Tatsumi and get this stuff filled out, so you guys have a nice day, okay?" he says as he leaves with Wakaba.

With that, we're left alone, just the two of us. Like we have been for the past week.

"Well, that was definitely…" Tsuzuki starts.

"Odd," I finish. "You know what's going to happen if Muraki finds his brother, don't you?"

"Yeah. He's going to kill him," Tsuzuki says. "Well, again."

"What if it's not his brother?" I say, leaning back in my chair. "What if they're being tricked?"

"Well…in either case…Muraki's going to kill him once he sees him," Tsuzuki says thoughtfully. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That someone should go warn this guy that his murderous half-brother's not as dead as everyone thinks and wants to kill him?" I ask. Tsuzuki's thoughts are as palpable as if he had voiced them out loud.

"We could do it." Tsuzuki's eyes have an excited gleam. His enthusiasm is like a tingly prickle.

"How? We're not on the case."

"We could volunteer to help look for the guy. Tokyo's a big city. That takes their chances of running into this guy down by a third if we join. Maybe half, if Terazuma and Wakaba are only supposed to stick with Tatsumi and Muraki."

"I don't think Tatsumi would let us. We'd have to be working with Muraki, for one. And it would cost extra for us to get housing and meals in Tokyo…"

Tsuzuki looks thoughtful. I can hear the plot bubbles bouncing around in his head.

"We could get around Tatsumi. All we have to do is get permission from the Chief for the budget. Since Tatsumi's no longer the department secretary, he can't control how things are spent."

"But what about getting permission from Tatsumi? I don't think he's going to be happy if we just barged into his case," I say.

"That's easy. We'll just ask Muraki," Tsuzuki says with a finality that makes me wonder if he's really thought this through.

"Easy. Right." Tsuzuki's radiating confidence. I blink. "I don't get it."

"As long as we have permission from one of the partners, it doesn't matter which one, because they're supposed to have an equal say in things," Tsuzuki responds.

"That wasn't what I was talking about. I meant, how are we going to go ask Muraki?" I ask, confused. "Seriously. What if he tries to…you know…" I gesture.

"That's the beauty of it," Tsuzuki says with a wink. "I'll use it against him." He rummages through his desk and pulls out a comb, and starts running it through his hair.

"Eh?!" I stand up, knocking the chair back.

"Go talk to the Chief. I'll be back in a few minutes…" Tsuzuki says, as he walks out, preening at his hair. "I'm sure it'll be easy!"

Man, he's stupid. I start running down the hall after him. "Wait, Tsuzuki! Not without me!"

***

"Shh…" Tsuzuki says. "I'm going in." I stand in the hallway, peeking in. Muraki's sitting at one of the computer workstations with his back to the door, staring intently at the screen. There's a bunch of data flying by on the monitor, and from here, I can see the name of the file at the top left-hand corner of the screen - Shidou Saki.

Tsuzuki makes his way in, careful not to make too much noise as he sneaks up on Muraki. I see him pause, just a moment before he's ready to talk, and I can feel himself steeling up the nerves, because otherwise, he's fluttery and twitchy. Muraki, on the other hand, feels like a muzzy drone of concentration, mixed with an eerie chill and something really dark and unpleasant. I withdraw my senses as soon as I touch that…yuck. Makes my head feel like I just dipped it in tar or something.

Tsuzuki passes by Muraki, casually bumping into him as he walks by. I almost groan. About as subtle as a flying hammer, Tsuzuki, I think to myself.

"Oh, hi," Tsuzuki says, looking suitably nervous. Well, he's pretty nervous anyway. What possessed him to do something this ridiculous?

Muraki's startled out of his reverie. He looks up at Tsuzuki, and for a moment it seems as if he's trying to place him. "Ah, good morning. Tsuzuki-san." His eyes go back to the screen.

Tsuzuki blinks. I don't think he's used to being ignored by Muraki.

"Ah…ne, ne, Muraki. I heard that you and Tatsumi have been having some problems with finding a suspect in Tokyo," Tsuzuki says, picking the most neutral terms possible. His voice quavers a little with anxiety. Muraki turns to look up at Tsuzuki, pushing his chair back a little as if to get a better look, his hand wandering up to adjust his glasses.

"Yes, that's right," Muraki says. There's a slight hint of suspicion radiating off of him. "Why?" His eyes keep darting back to the monitor. Man, that information must be completely amazing to keep Muraki half-distracted. Now he's returned to staring at the monitor.

"Well, Hisoka and I were wondering if we could volunteer to help," Tsuzuki says, as he places his hand on the desk, leaning forward toward Muraki. Now that I notice, he's taken off his tie, unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, and is showing some skin. Holy shit.

Muraki, however, has already started scrolling the data back down again. "Mm, do as you like," he says absently, as his mouse clicks away. I get the feeling that Muraki only realizes that someone's asked him a question, and not exactly what that question is. "If you need me, I'll be in here."

Well, that was…damn. Bloodless. Guess it's time to go talk to the Chief.

*******

|Muraki|

Everything. Is. Just. Fine.

Deep breaths, Kazutaka. Deep breaths. Mustn't let the Shinigami know that something's gone terribly awry.

An interruption a few minutes ago…was it…yes, Tsuzuki. But it doesn't matter, because I don't need him anymore. Nothing matters, my dear brother, my dear, sweet Saki, but for the finding of you. Yes, that's right. In time, keep breathing, yes, breathing, in time I will find you, and make sure that the world will be cleansed of your godforsaken existence.

These files tell me of everything about you up until the moment you died, or should have died, let me say. Because someone has obviously been tampering with the system, letting the dead live when they shouldn't have. It's extremely troublesome - I really must do something about this. I think that I shall see about contacting my Sakaki - perhaps he still has some of the implements with which I entrusted him.

I think that I will enjoy flaying you, Saki. That would be a nice start. There are some awfully good techniques that I know that keep a man from bleeding to death, even as his skin is removed inch by inch.

And then, this business with Oriya. I don't know what you've been doing to him, but you should be thankful that he's merely sleeping - anything else would have made your future torments even more unbearable. He is still asleep, I believe. We placed wards on him so that if anything changes, we'll know. Thanks, of course, to that girl - she's quite adept at such matters. Now, it's only a matter of waiting, waiting, waiting.

Saki. Your younger self looks at me with such a pacific visage, eyes pleasantly mellow, a little smile at the edge of your mouth. I'd love to remove that, permanently, along with every future smile. It's amazing what vivisection can do to a man. Oh, of course, I've never had the opportunity to try it myself, but really, you should go over Grandfather's files someday - he has some rather interesting data on that. And perhaps, given some time, I'll have the chance to try my hand at it.

You see, Saki, the deck is stacked against you this time. I'm a little different now, a lot stronger, and far less mortal. You'll see.

I'm playing to win this time, brother. And I'll make sure that you lose.

First, we must visit the keeper of the death registry to make certain that you're really alive, and not some cunningly disguised conman out to trouble Oriya. But I know you must be alive, because I can feel it. Your existence grates against me like the slough of sandpaper against the grain of wood.

Well, I suppose I'll be going now. I've an appointment.

*******

|Terazuma|

"Hey." The word is drawled out by a voice laced with pleasure. Muraki blinks, as if dragged out of somnambulistic daze. He had been mindlessly following Terazuma to this place that lies just outside of the edge of Meifu, the Castle of Candles, passing room after room of flickering flames. At one time, it seemed as though he saw the visage of Saki grinning at him from the shadows. But no, merely a reflection, as the Hakushaku said, with an oddly pleased tenor to his voice, as if he found some amount of amusement in Muraki's unbalance.

Now, they're in a dimly lit room. It's sparsely furnished, with two chairs facing the desk where the Keeper is seated. The most notable things in this room are two massive bound books, one to the left, the other to the right. One is closed, the other, open, with entries logging themselves automatically onto the blank sheets.

"Good morning," Muraki says politely.

"Doctor Muraki," the girl says with a smile, standing up to shake Muraki's hand, reaching over her massive desk. She's a tiny thing, not nearly the height of Terazuma's shoulder, with straight black-tinged-chestnut hair. She's got piercingly pale blue eyes. "Welcome to the registry room. How do you like your souls done: medium-rare, or medium-well?"

"Souls?" Muraki blinks.

"Eh, quit messing with the newbie, Keeper," Terazuma says irritably, as he reaches for a cigarette. "We've got to hurry today."

"Hurry? What's the hurry? Here, make yourselves comfortable," the Keeper says, gesturing grandly toward the plush chairs before her desk. "Have a seat. Now, what's your business today?"

"We need status on a Shidou Saki," Terazuma says, sitting down and handing her a slip of paper with his name. "Based on all available accounts, he should be dead. We need to go over both registries."

"I see," the Keeper nods, studying the kanji. She sets the paper on her desk, and turns to Muraki. "What about you? Why are you here?"

"I'm the one who should be making the request," Muraki explains. "On behalf of division five. Terazuma-san is here as my mentor."

"Ah…" Her attention turns to Muraki, laser-intense. "If that's the case, you'll have to answer two questions. Because this is your first time here."

"Questions?"

"Yep! What's your favorite food? And what's your life story? Please tell me in detail," she says, leaning against her desk as if ready to listen.

"Mmm, I thought this was going to happen," Terazuma says and whips out a file, slapping it down on her desk. "Here's the life story. We need to get moving, so can we get the info now, please?"

"Oh, you're no fun," she says with a pout. "I want to hear it in his own words."

"Ah…may I promise to come and speak with you further at another time?" Muraki offers, before Terazuma can leap out of his chair and strangle her. "If we don't work efficiently, I think that my partner will be displeased."

"Your partner? Oh yes, division five's Tatsumi." The Keeper looks chagrined. "Well, damn. Let's make an appointment then. When are you free?" Suddenly, an appointment book appears in her hand, and she opens it. "I've got an opening…well, I've got a lot of openings. What's a good time?"

"Ah…"

"Just the information, please," Terazuma grinds out. His eyes swirl with color, a hint of crimson filling his irises.

"Sure, sure…" She sets the book down. "All right. Death registry. Shidou Saki."

Before her, a translucent and ghostly image appears.

"We can't actually touch the physical books, because that would disrupt their work," the Keeper explains. "So this is just a projection. The only person who can actually touch the books is the Hakushaku himself. The two books record different things. That one records the allotment of a person's lifespan, starting with a date of birth, and with a notation added once they die. The entry is added as soon as they're born. That's the closed book." The Keeper points to the book on the left. "The open one on the other side records untimely deaths caused by third-parties, which is what we'll be checking first. You kept that one busy for a long time." The Keeper smiles at Muraki toothily. "It was disruptive, yes, but we enjoyed it very much."

"…the information…" Terazuma growls.

"Right, right," the Keeper watches placidly as the ghostly book's pages flip underneath her opened palm. "According to the death registry, there is one entry for Shidou Saki, fourth quarter, year ending 1999. Cause of death, arson."

"Eh?"

"Now we'll check the life registry." The book closes and disappears, and another suddenly appears in its place. It glows faintly. The book opens beneath the Keeper's hand, and the pages begin flipping quickly as the Keeper somehow disseminates the information.

"According to the life registry, there are two entries for Shidou Saki. One begins in fourth quarter, year ending 1964, the other begins for first quarter, year ending 1993, with a date of death in fourth quarter, year ending 1999. Hn, an aberration."

"What?" Muraki nearly leaps out of his seat, startling Terazuma. "What do you mean?"

"That something unusual must have happened," the Keeper states coolly. "It's not my job to understand the reasoning. I only maintain the books. The Hakushaku might know, because he can grant amendments to the book of life, but really, the entry in the registry of death should be final." The translucent book closes underneath her hand, and disappears.

"This means that you'll have to go investigate now," the Keeper says. "There should only be one entry per person, one coupon per customer. That's how it works. Unless you know of another way that a person could be duplicated…"

"Satomi," Muraki says, with sudden realization and an expression of mild horror. "That…that cannot be."

"Looks like it is, Doctor," she replies. "You know, I was sad when you died, because I wanted you to live. I was even one of the parties that argued against your untimely demise, because I liked watching you. You kept the second book busy, and that makes me happy. But Enma gets what Enma wants, and besides, I think you'll be much more fun now that you're here. Keep amusing me, and I'll try my best to make sure things will go well for you."

"All right, time to go," Terazuma says, standing up, completely barreling over the last few words of the Keeper as if she had never uttered them. He grabs Muraki's file and gestures. "Come on, Muraki. Tatsumi's waiting. We have to go now. Thank you, Keeper, for your kind assistance," he says, the words sounding wooden and insincere.

"Ah, no problem. Come back soon! Especially you, Doctor." The keeper's lips part in an empty grin. It's chilling, a hollow visage. "Remember, you promised to answer my questions. If you don't come, I'll be bored."

"Yes, when I can, I will return," Muraki promises, as he quickly leaves the Keeper's chamber, following Terazuma.

Terazuma stays silent until they leave the grounds of the Castle. Once they return to Meifu proper and are near enough to the general administration to see it, Terazuma breathes a deep sigh of relief and stops to tap out a cigarette. He lights it, and takes a deep drag.

"Shit. I hate that place. Smells wrong," Terazuma mutters, smoke coiling out from his mouth.

"Was she human?" Muraki asks.

"She's not. At least, not in the traditional sense," Terazuma says as they make their way toward the entrance. "Make sure you keep that promise with her. It's not good to cross anyone over in the Castle. Even just a servant of the Hakushaku."

"I will keep that in mind," Muraki replies.

"Hey, there's Tatsumi. I bet he's looking for us," Terazuma says, dropping his cigarette, and crushing it under his shoe. "Man, he looks mad. Wonder what's eating him…"

*******

|Saki|

My thanks for all your hard work. You're really amazingly efficient. I can see why you're so valuable to him. The data was worth all the trouble and more. I'll probably have a working model for you to see in a day or two. But why don't I fill you in on more of the details while I'm here? Both of us could use a little break.

Some years back, Satomi had mentioned to me that he had found some important paperwork. I don't think that you know this, even as you know far more than anyone else regarding Kazutaka's affairs, but Satomi's father had been a colleague of my paternal grandfather's, a research assistant back in the old days. Satomi's father had some rather interesting anecdotes from his days working with the old Doctor Muraki, stories about anomalies that Satomi didn't think could be possible. But then, some years back, Satomi came across something unusual in the papers he inherited from his father, once the old man had died. It was mostly accounts from my grandfather's hospital, but it referred to a particular person.

A notation about man who lives, but does not die, even without basic sustenance or sleep. A reference to samples taken. A comment about violet eyes.

I see that you recognize what I'm talking about. Or, more correctly, you know *who* I'm talking about.

Satomi and I pored over the files for hours, scrounging for any speck of detail regarding the mysterious man. There was substantial potential, especially if we could appropriate a sample and look for that specific gene, that segment of DNA that coded for unlimited cellular regeneration. Immortality. But we realized we couldn't do anything further unless we had a copy of the specific files and the samples.

So Satomi and I devised a method of entrapping Kazutaka by artificially aging a partial clone of myself in a modified life-support tank, to see if we could get Kazutaka to reveal the files. We rigged the whole mess with equipment that would record both audio and video to capture his ramblings, waiting for the information or hints to the information that we'd need.

After all, Kazutaka is a highly skilled physician and surgeon, but cloning and genetics at this level are far beyond his scope of expertise.

We thought that he'd volunteer the data to Satomi, in order to 'revive' this partial clone copy, gambling on the possibility that for all these years his grudge against me had not ever healed (but really, I don't know why he's so bitter - after all, the past is past).

However, the gamble didn't quite pay off for some time. Years in fact. Kazutaka kept speaking of lunacy - impossible things - supernatural beings that he claimed he could see, stalking amongst the sheep of the fold of humanity.

His madness. You're familiar with it. I can see it in your eyes. I suppose it troubled you quite a bit, given your proximity to Kazutaka.

Early on, it crossed my mind while I was waiting (and it was a long wait, rest assured - thank goodness that waiting on him wasn't the only thing I had on my plate, or else I'd be as mad as him) that I should sequence his DNA. After all, his mother, God rest her twisted soul, was so odd, so frighteningly white that if I hadn't known better, I would have said she wasn't human. Pure curiosity, nothing more.

It wasn't particularly hard - just a matter of waiting for the right moment - one day he left his suit coat in the laboratory for a few hours on a hot day while he went to lunch, and I took a few strands of cast-off hair and ran them.

Now, here's the interesting thing. I don't think he's exactly human. Of course, it's impossible to prove now that his body's been cremated. But I'm quite certain. To save on a long lecture about the nature of human DNA, I can just say that whatever Kazutaka was, it was not quite what we are. There's just enough difference, a few percentage points, really, to suggest that he's…well…something else. And his mother as well. Statistically speaking, following the changing signposts in the mitochondrial DNA, it's likely that the two of them are the first and second generation of something wholly…different. Something almost human, but not quite.

You don't think a few percentage points matter, do you? Well, the difference between chimpanzees and human beings comes out to something less than 5%. So yes, a few percentage points matter quite a bit.

I never told Satomi about Kazutaka. I've actually never told anyone about this. Other than you. But I know you won't tell anyone. Not that anyone would believe you. There's no real physical evidence anymore. Burned away. Too bad. I would have liked a better sample.

In any case, as I delved into the particulars of Kazutaka's genetic sequence, I realized something rather interesting. Remember my quest for the immortal cell, the gene that keeps cells from degenerating? Well, it seemed that he had something of that sequence in his DNA, when I looked more closely. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. Once, when we were younger, he fell and broke his arm - it took a fraction of the time that it should have to heal.

Yet it wasn't complete, the gene. His sequence was mixed too much with the normal human attributes that allow us to naturally age and naturally die. It was missing crucial elements that would make for a perfectly immortal cell. And whatever crucial element it lacked also made it wholly unreplicatable, which is technically an impossibility, as theoretically, anything can be replicated. I tried every technique to recreate that particular strand of DNA, as it's really just a matter of stripping and recombining existing DNA until you get what you want. Yet nothing worked. It was as if he had a built-in fail-safe, created purely by the accident of birth, from whatever mixture of human and non-human created him.

Once again, a dead end. Kazutaka was unique, on more levels than the obvious ones. To put it bluntly, he was uncloneable, which made him useless to me.

Now speaking of cloning, it's been a lovely talk as usual, but I had best get back to work. My lunch break is nearly over. Please stay warm. I wouldn't want you to catch cold. Once this works, I'll come back to you, and you'll be allowed to see my results.

The agreement? It still stands. You can leave when I'm done. Just be patient.

Sure, it's not fair. But it's for the sake of science, my cruel and harsh mistress. But you should understand. After all, Kazutaka would have said the same thing.

Have a wonderful day. Ja.

*******

|Hisoka|

Sometimes I wonder if Tsuzuki is really an empath himself, or if he's just that good. I only say this because he managed to mollify Tatsumi with barely a few words.

And I quote:

Tatsumi: No. Absolutely not. There are far too many things that are wrong with this scenario, starting with Muraki and ending with Terazuma. I don't care how bored the two of you are, there is absolutely no way you are helping us with this case, no matter how hard it is to find the man.

Tsuzuki: But you helped me when I needed you the most.

Tatsumi: How is that relevant?

Tsuzuki: Let me help you this time. Please?

Seven words.

***

Well, this is turning out to be just the most interesting day. And given the events of the last few weeks or so, I'd say that it's a pretty strong sentiment.

Amazingly, because of Tsuzuki's intervention, Tatsumi didn't freak out and threaten anyone with demotions/pay cuts/beatings when Tsuzuki told him that we were going to help out through the compliance of both the Chief and Tatsumi's own partner. Of course, I think Tatsumi is going to kick Muraki's ass, because the look Tatsumi gave him could have burnt holes through the man's head, much less the anger that was coming off of him like shimmering waves of heat on a hot day.

Tatsumi and Muraki went to Kyoto with Terazuma and Wakaba to talk to Oriya. I guess they're hoping that Oriya can tell them where Saki is. It's probably a good thing that Terazuma and Wakaba aren't here with us, because I get the feeling that the Tokyo metropolitan police might not take too fondly to a big smoking crater where the city used to be. Well, that's probably an exaggeration. Their rivalry has cooled down quite a bit since the Chief threatened to fire them after they destroyed the library, but somehow I can imagine it'd get really tedious with them being snitty at each other at every turn.

But hey, here we are, in Tokyo. Tsuzuki and I are getting a head start to try to find Saki.

Well, it'd be more of a start if he wouldn't stop at every other corner. At least the tracker shiki have been out for the last few hours.

"Baka," I mutter. He's adorable and irritating at the same time, so it's hard to stay mad at him for long, just like it's hard to stay happy with him for long. Maybe I'll just lump all the good and bad parts of his personality together like eating Brussel sprouts with chocolate cake by separating the two elements, fast-forwarding through the former, and lingering on the latter.

Oh, except now he's decided he wants to buy me an ice cream cone. It's 46 degrees out. And drizzling. And he wants to buy me a freakin' ice cream cone.

"What the hell are you thinking?" I grab him by edge of his coat, just as he's about to go waltzing into an ice cream shop.

"Uh…that 'Soka looks like he could use something to cheer him up?"

"Cheer me up? I'm perfectly fine! Now let's go find that guy," I snap. "We'll get ice cream later! You're the one who said we should hurry up and find him before the others get to Tokyo. It's almost three! If we can't find his office before it closes, we'll have to find out where he lives and that's going to be a lot harder!"

"Ice cream, it is!" Tsuzuki says, dragging me with him.

I think I'm going to start summing things up with annoyed silences. Starting now.

…

***

Well, we're finally here, and with time to spare. I guess Tsuzuki was right about having plenty of time. Saki's office is on the eighth floor of a rather massive building in Chuo-ku, and I'm starting to be really glad that I dressed for the occasion, because it's looking like it might be a hassle to get into.

Since we figured that he'd be working in some sort of office, I'm going for the "I'm an intern" look today, with khaki pants and a blue dress shirt with the sleeves half rolled up. Oh, and an umbrella, since it's drizzly. Tsuzuki's got what I like to think of as the standard Shinigami uniform - black suit, black tie, black coat, topped off with sunglasses that hide his unusual eyes. Although I'm starting to think now that maybe he looks like Yakuza-lite or something, because it's pretty dark for sunglasses, what with the heavy gray clouds blocking out the sky.

Of course, he's also going for the "I'm way too cool to need an umbrella" motif, which leaves him slightly damp, with trailing bits of water sliding down his sunglasses and beads of water spangling his hair. What's really amazing is that he's not even in the slightest bit cold or uncomfortable. He's merely giving off little sprinkles of interest and amusement as we take the elevator up to the eighth floor.

Me, I'm cold. Not quite shivering, but not comfortable at all. It's a direct result of ice cream. I'd be annoyed with him if I didn't enjoy the ice cream so much - he really was right about that point.

The eighth floor suite is quite sleek and modern, with a lot of antiseptically clean white surfaces and brushed aluminum fixtures. It's also gratifyingly warm. Even as I leave my furled umbrella hanging on a stand near the entrance, I can feel myself untensing as the desire to shiver leaves me.

Saki's office is hidden somewhere in this massive eighth floor complex. It's a good thing we were using trackers. Before we left, I managed to steal the sensation of Saki's 'presence' out of Muraki's memory before we left (not that it was hard, since it was the only thing he could think about, to the point where it wasn't even a matter of stealing so much as it was dodging flying Saki-feeling) and pass it on to Tsuzuki to use for the trackers. The trackers brought us to the general vicinity of this area, and we spent about half an hour going building by building until we found this one, which Tsuzuki insisted was the right one.

Otherwise, we'd have to be doing it the hard way like divisions four and five, because he's not going by the same name - there were only three Shidous listed in Tokyo, and all of them were the wrong person (we checked). But the trackers are never wrong, so we're sure that he's one of dozens of employees here. It's a good thing that the company directory lists only one Saki or else we'd be in trouble. Trust the man to choose one of the five most common surnames in Tokyo. If we had to do this the old-fashioned way, it'd probably take us forever and a day. That makes sense though, because if I had a brother like Muraki, I'd change far more than just my name - I'd be first in line at the plastic surgeon's before killing the man, faking my death, and moving to Nigeria.

Tsuzuki's turning up the charm to full blast on the receptionist, rendering her incapable of self-defense and common sense against the merry wit of the genki friend of Dr. Tanaka Saki. Of course, this friend just happened to be in town from America and decided to drop by Dr. Tanaka's office to surprise him before returning to the states. Convenient, for a man can barely speak a lick of English. It's funny how Tsuzuki can make girls so giddy. Well, me too, sometimes, now that I think about it…

Ahem. Moving on, we're now being led through the labyrinthine corridors to his office. It's amazing to see these glass plated labs full of biochemists in full protective gear, their white suits providing them barely a few millimeters between skin and biohazardous materials. Surprisingly, few of them feel nervous. The feeling I get here is more of intense focus and enjoyment with the occasional boredom, topped with pleasant surprise. I suppose it's like any other job.

"Dr. Tanaka, you've got visitors." The receptionist knocks on his door. I start subtly insinuating the feeling that she should get back to her desk. Momentarily, she excuses herself and leaves.

"Door's open," a voice says. Tsuzuki flashes me a reassuring smile and opening the door, goes in. I follow.

The office is bright and well lit, like everything else in this place, though the window behind him looks out over the damp gray city. It's got all sorts of little touches of personality, a variegated patterned throw rug on the floor, a prominent landscape of sunny fields on the wall, and framed photographs on the shelves.

But the man himself. Wow. He's nothing like what I expected. I guess maybe based on Muraki's mind, I thought I should have expected a monster, but this guy…seems pretty nice. He's radiating satisfaction, at near Tsuzuki-with-apple-pie levels, and a general tone of pleasantry. He doesn't look much like Muraki at first glance, but then, when you look at him closely, there're hints of resemblances here and there that form a wholly unnerving experience, as if he's a dark not-quite twin. It's kind of creepy, especially when contrasting my personal experiences with the inside of Muraki's head against that bright feeling that comes off of Saki like a field of sunflowers on a hot day.

Tsuzuki was right. We should be trying to save him.

"Good afternoon." Saki stands up to greet us, shaking our hands. "Please have a seat. I'm in the middle of some data analysis, but it can wait." He sits expectantly, puzzled as to why we're here, because he doesn't recognize us nor was he expecting us. It's interesting how he glosses over his lack of familiarity with a cheerful professionalism.

"I'm Tsuzuki Asato. And this is my partner, Kurosaki Hisoka," Tsuzuki starts, pulling off his sunglasses to reveal his violet eyes. I get a flash of recognition mixed with amazement, inquisitiveness, and something else that I can't put my finger on. It's a really weird reaction, even to someone with eyes like Tsuzuki. By the time I tune back in, I've missed the first part of the conversation.

"…And what brings you two gentleman to my office?"

"We're here because of your brother," Tsuzuki pronounces.

"Brother? You must be mistaken," Saki says coolly, without even the slightest change in expression. "I'm an only child." He's really good at being sincerely insincere. He feels like he believes it strongly, against the truth of the matter.

Tsuzuki pulls Saki's file out of his coat, flips it open, and drops it on the desk between them. "To be exact, a half-brother. One Muraki Kazutaka. Recently deceased."

Saki browses through the file momentarily, before closing it and sliding it back to Tsuzuki with a breath of resignation. "Looks like this means I don't have to tell you my usual story of being adopted by some nice people in the states. Ah well. It's a good story too. So what do you want? Is this some governmental bureaucratic silliness that I have to go through because of his death? Or are you here to tell me that somehow, for some godforsaken reason, my brother managed to find out I wasn't dead and decided to send killers after me post-mortem?"

It's amazing how close to the truth he is. Because technically speaking, we're like governmental bureaucrat killers. Sort of. But what's also amazing is his seeming unconcern, which goes down into an emotional level too, as if he doesn't have anything to fear from Muraki.

"That's not exactly it," I say. "We're here to warn you."

"Warn me?" Suspicion. However, it doesn't show on his face.

"Your brother isn't as dead as you think he is. We're here to warn you that he's looking for you," Tsuzuki says simply. "If he finds you, he'll probably try to kill you."

"Again," I add. Tsuzuki then goes into a long discussion of the basics of the situation, about our Shinigami status, about Muraki's new existence, and about the inconsistent entries in the registries of life and death.

"That's pretty far-fetched," Saki says thoughtfully, as he folds his hands before him, digesting the information. It's a lot for a normal person to take in at one time. I don't expect him to take it too well, but he's simmering on it as if trying to boil down the meaning to its essence. "What do you expect me to do about this? Leave town? I still have to go to work to pay the bills."

"Actually, we have a better solution for you," Tsuzuki says, pulling out an ofuda, holding it up in his hand. "It'll prevent anyone with trackers from finding you. Even me. Just hang onto it, and try to keep a low profile. It won't make you invisible, but it'll hide you from anyone who's looking for you with magic."

"What will this cost me?" Saki says, raising an eyebrow. He thinks we're conmen.

"Nothing," Tsuzuki replies. "You don't have to believe us. Just take it on faith and hang onto it. At least for the next week or so. Everyone's looking for you right now, and the faster they find you, the more likely Muraki will try to kill you."

Now I get the feeling that he thinks we might be evangelists. Or lunatics. Or lunatic evangelists.

"We're not evangelists," I say irritably. He blinks, and wonders how I picked up on that thought. "And I picked up on that because I can feel them." I tap my head. Well, to be honest, it was a good guess - I just got the usual sense of irritation and distrust that I generally associate with how people feel about evangelists.

Then it's the usual mental scramble that happens when a person finds out what I am and that I can sense their feelings. He's trying to hide whatever's floating around in his head. It's a weird image; I just picked up the feeling of a cold laboratory and a lot of patience, but mixed with something else…something not so good. But I don't pry too much. Everyone's got something to hide, something that they're ashamed of or worse. God knows I'm one of them.

"It looks like I'll have to be holding onto this for a while," Saki says, looking at the ofuda thoughtfully, turning it over in his hands to study the complex writing. "Is this replicable?"

"You'd have to know the right spell," Tsuzuki says, "And have a certain amount of innate ability to fuel the spell. You can't just photocopy it."

Saki nods, folds the ofuda in half, and pockets it. "Very interesting." And I think we're done.

"Thank you for your time, Tanaka-san," Tsuzuki says, getting up to shake his hand. "Hopefully we won't have to come see you again, but until next time."

"Next time it is, then," Saki says pleasantly, shaking our hands. As we leave, he gives me the strangest look, just as that thought about a cold laboratory, something secret, and…uh…a guest of some sort comes to mind again.

People have the weirdest things in their heads. You never know if it's recent or in the past, because for some people, what's fresh on their minds could have happened years ago.

I chalk it up to perverted late nights at the laboratory. Sluttiness must run in that family.

*******

|Oriya|

Yesterday afternoon, Oriya woke up suddenly from an unexpected nap. He had somehow dozed off. In his office, a few things had been moved about, but he found the note from Saki, half crumpled near an empty glass.

Oriya had gone to bed soon after that, feeling listless and drained. While his mind normally would have inquired further, it was sluggish from the insistence of rest, as if he had not been sleeping well at all in the last few days.

Certainly, that had been the case.

Oriya sighs. Upon waking, morning practice brought to the fore the problem of a mind that was wholly unfocused. He had pushed harder than usual, chasing after an elusive clarity that seemed just out of reach, hidden past that dark brother's brown eyes.

It's been a long morning. He's spent most of it resolving the issues of Kokakurou, readying it for a new week. While it's not the most time-consuming of affairs, it requires a particularly delicate touch to hold all factions in harmony with one another, carefully preventing discord and preserving the institution's central theme of elegant harmony.

Sometime, a little after noon, he's had lunch - just a simple spare meal, the morning's sense of unbalance suggesting to him that he needs to keep on guard against hints of weakness.

And that's when they appear.

Like the warp of a wave of heat along the horizon's edge, they come, the Shinigami. He's never seen them appear like this before - perhaps it was intentional, to let him know that Muraki had been changed. Perhaps not - it was a mystery that only they knew for certain. But the fact remains that they're here, four of them this time; a sour looking young man with feral markings along his cheeks, a girl with honey-blond hair trailing down her shoulders interspersed with ribbons, the blue-eyed secretary that occasionally haunts Oriya's dreams, and him.

Muraki.

It can't be true. It's unfair. And it's too much.

Warring desires play out in Oriya's heart for a moment, and the emotive response on the surface is like the drop of a stone into water, sudden disturbance, disappearing into ripples of calm, the dark water of his eyes obscuring his true emotions from view.

Only Muraki approaches. The others hang back, as if to observe. Oriya isn't sure whether to laugh at this, or consider throwing them all out of his garden for trespassing.

"Oriya." It's simple. Just that word, and Oriya wants to throw himself into the arms of his friend, but he doesn't. The offer is there, as it always stands, but he doesn't move.

"Muraki." A low tone. It says nothing, yet volumes at the same time.

Muraki makes his way along the stone path of the garden. The pond is a liquid movement of water and fallen leaves, the bamboo font tapping rhythmically in a motion that does not cease. The sky is an autumnal blue, clear forever into its open heart, marbled with skitters of faint clouds, midday unfolding its light.

Oriya nearly trembles with this image, so true, a reality that conflicts with the remembered sensation of snow hovering along the edges of his perception. His breath catches in his throat as Muraki comes near; for a moment, it feels as though he cannot breathe.

Muraki enters Oriya's office, careful to take off his shoes and set them by the doorway. With a backwards glance, he seems to receive some sort of permission, and Muraki closes the sliding paper door behind him. Yet still, the watchful eyes of the Shinigami do not seem to have dissipated even as they are veiled from sight.

For a moment, silence, as Muraki sits down on his heels next to Oriya, in their usual places on the tatami floor. The silence is pulled along, strung loosely as if weaving itself back into its native shape. Yet like a thread that's been unraveled and rewoven, the original form is lost forever.

He's different now. Oriya can see that; the face looks minutely more youthful, the right eye no longer scarred and unbalanced, the frightful asymmetry now replaced by a perfectly normal yet pale blue eye.

In some ways, they're both different.

"Oriya," Muraki says again, initiating the contact. It's like the entrance of the guest into the room in which one gives the tea ceremony, and Oriya can do nothing but politely respond, because he does not know what to do otherwise.

"You're back." It's nearly an accusation, mixed with breathless hope.

Muraki nods. "I'm sorry. I would have returned sooner if I could."

"How…?"

Muraki explains quietly, the things that had happened, the new life that he lived. The world where the sakura are always in bloom, like the springtime of youth reborn in the darkness of the land beyond.

Oriya can only listen. He knows Muraki is only here conditionally - there must be a reason, unfinished business perhaps, something that he's here for.

And it's not because of their friendship. Oriya gathers that much, hearing the tremble and flicker of emotion along Muraki's words, so very much like the days leading up to the end almost a year ago now, where Muraki clasped the cold plastic card into Oriya's hand, forcing him to take the key that opened new doors while closing their shared past as Muraki disappeared into the ghost-ridden Kyoto night.

Oriya closes his eyes, smoothing out the harsh edges of emotion when he realizes that there can be only one thing that Muraki is after. When he realizes who could have come in to crumple the note, move the glass and momentarily disturb his slumber the other afternoon without any mortal noticing.

"No." The word slides past Oriya's lips, thought turned reality with one breath.

Muraki blinks, momentarily unsettled. He had not mentioned anything in particular relating to Saki, yet Oriya had seen through the maneuverings of conversation that would have led him to the question.

"I cannot allow you to kill him, Muraki." It's just that simple.

"He drugged you. And quite possibly stole the data. Where are the earrings?"

Oriya's expression does not change. Reaching over, he pulls open a little drawer in his desk. In it are a few miscellaneous items, including a small jewelry box, which he pulls out and opens. The earrings are still there, crimson gemstones blinking in surprise at the sudden light. He hands the box to Muraki, who carefully pries the backing off of one of the stones. A tiny chip falls out. But it's not his.

"This is…" Muraki blinks.

Oriya shrugs. "I haven't touched it."

"Saki." The word is laced with venom. "Where is he?" Demanding.

"I can't tell you."

"Cannot, or will not?"

"Both. Let the man live. Nothing ties you to him anymore, Muraki. Your life is over. But instead of going to the true death, you've been given a second chance. Do not waste it."

"Oriya." Muraki cannot believe what he's hearing.

"You lived for only vengeance, and where did it take you? An inferno of black flames utterly destroying everything in its path. And here you are, with a new future, and you spit in its face as if the chance that few others will ever receive in their lives is worth nothing to you. Go and live, even if it's the world of the dead, because if you do not do this now, you will never be given another chance." The tone is final, the falling stroke of an executioner's blade. The expressions on Oriya's face close, as if the snapping shut of a case. The interview is over.

Muraki knows better than to press the issue. The best thing, in his mind, is to leave now, and come back another time. Perhaps Oriya will be more pliant to suggestion then; Muraki will figure something out in the meantime. There are five other Shinigami to draw resources from, and when he has a chance to get a hold of his secretary, it's likely that they won't even need Oriya's help. His mind calculates along a dozen variables, and Oriya nearly winces, seeing the conclusion in Muraki's eyes.

Muraki bows gracefully, the leave-taking of a stranger. The two turns of the ceramic bowl for tea have been disrupted, the water's splashed onto the rim, a droplet flicked off the surface, enough to break that delicate balance of tension and elegance that the tea ceremony's held for the two for so many years.

"Thank you," he says simply, as he stands to leave. "Perhaps we should have dinner some time." No need to burn all bridges, resources that have future potential should never be wasted.

"Perhaps." The word comes out strained and tight. Oriya didn't mean for this, he would do anything to pull Muraki back, make him stay, make him…but it's too late.

It was too late a lifetime ago, under the brilliant red moon.

Muraki shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

*******

|Saki|

Don't be like that, Sakaki-san. We both know you're awake. It's far too early for you to be asleep. Pretending won't work. I can tell, even with only the tips of your black hair showing past the covers.

I said we could be friends, why would I lie to you? There's nothing to gain from hurting you - as I told you before, the more you cooperate, the better things will become.

The two of us should close the circle of fate behind us. Your father tried to kill me with a shot to the back. Of course, you knew that - you grew up with the mythology of the man who saved your precious Sensei when he was naught but an embryo of the man he is now.

Your father was a relentless man, loyal and brave. I still have the scar. It goes all the way through me.

And you, you've been a world of help to me. You tense up at that word - why does it shame you to help me?

After all, don't think of it as betrayal. Think of it as helping out your Sensei's dear brother continue the work that he would have wanted to continue, if he was still alive. Think of it as compensation for the sins of the father.

There, get up. Yes, that's good. I have some news for you. You know my little project? Well, it's gotten interesting. I compared the two runs of DNA analysis, my brother's and this mysterious Tsuzuki Asato. It turns out neither of them have what I'm looking for.

But this is where it gets very odd. Because they each hold about half of the clues. I had to make an intelligent guess since there's still a gap in between them that's been lost - I'm certain most of it comes from Kazutaka's side, as he only holds half of his mother's genes, and not more.

But intelligent guesses on the sequencing pattern have led me to this point, which leads me to you.

I'm done. See this vial? It's my grand experiment. Very plain looking, isn't it?

Don't worry. It will only hurt a bit. Then again, if this works properly, it won't hurt at all.

Now hold still.

*******

To be continued…

Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei belongs to Matsushita Yoko.

Thanks to: DWE for her help in explaining DNA, genetics, etc. Cyrus and RubyD for prereading. And Aeanagwen for proofreading. Welcome to the team. ^_- Also, thanks to everyone in the livejournal Yami community and all the nice people who give me feedbacks and such, including you the reader, for your continued support! Thank you, thank you, thank you! *___* If I have a chance, I will certainly try to email everyone back - if not, you're free to contact me on AIM or whatnot (evilasiangenius).

Author's notes:

The earrings had dried blood on them because Oriya had been clutching them in his hand until they bled (end of chapter 4). Saki has a background in biochemistry/genetics. And Sakaki is referenced in King of Swords, where he is the contact that Muraki calls to arrange the 'helicopter and guns.' He's got a journal on livejournal.com, under the username sakaki_san.

I'm going out of town for 10 days, and will be back - don't know if you'll see another chapter anytime soon, but I will try. Sorry this one took so long! And no, I have no idea what he's doing to Sakaki yet either, so we'll all discover it together. :D Extras may be found on http://eag.squidkitty.org/

Omake!

Presenting…

The Path to the King of Practical Jokers II: Chef Watari

"Muraki-san!" A voice cheerfully sails through the empty office.

"Eh?" Muraki looks up from his paperwork. It's noon in Meifu, and everyone's out to lunch, even Tatsumi, who has been needled into taking a break. Muraki volunteered to stay behind to work on the papers. He needs a few moments of quiet.

"Ah, here you are," Watari says, walking in with a square pink box. Muraki thinks it looks suspiciously like a pastry box, but says nothing. "I brought something for you."

"Hmm?"

Watari presents the box to Muraki. "Congratulations on your first case in Chijou! Tatsumi told me all about it!"

"Oh, no…I couldn't accept this," Muraki says graciously, trying to cover for the fact that he just wants to be left alone and has no interest in dessert at the moment.

"That thing with the fire…that's very cool! I wouldn't think that a spell could hold a burning soul like that, but wow, it saves on garden hoses. Did you know I actually invented a device to put them out?" Watari chatters on, cheerfully bent on prattling Muraki into submission. "But Tatsumi said I couldn't use it because it was fourteen stories tall and ate small children…but it didn't eat them on purpose! It just sort of grew a mind of its own. Then again, it didn't really 'eat' them so much as process them through a knitting factory that made them custom-fit sweaters. Really fashionable ones too…"

"Well then, thank you very much for your present," Muraki says finally, taking the pink box if for nothing but to hopefully make Watari leave.

"It's a cherry pie! I hope you enjoy it. I baked it myself," Watari replies, as he checks his watch. "Oops, I better get going. My solution's not titrating itself. Ja!" Watari wanders off, and disappears from the general office.

Muraki sneaks a glance at the pie in the pastry box. It's passionately normal looking. He frowns, because he doesn't have a particular fondness for cherry pies, and closing the lid, shoves it to one side of his desk.

Minutes pass as he works quietly, but the box keeps getting in the way, to the point that Muraki feels as though it is being driven by some infernal mechanism bent on making absolutely sure that he paid attention to the box in some way, shape, or form.

So Muraki decides to do what any normal person would do. He picks up the box, and deciding it was a waste of a perfectly normal pie, takes it to the break room with plans on leaving it there with a note that says, 'please eat.'

On the way to the break room, he runs into his fellow Shinigami, just returning from lunch.

Or, to be precise, he runs into a specific pair of fellow Shinigami.

"Tsuzuki-san!"

"Muraki!"

For a moment, there's a definite awkward tension. The two don't seem to be certain whether they should run from each other or try something. Mutual confusion sets in, and eventually an uneasy truce seems to settle in, in which both keep their distance.

Tsuzuki sniffs the air apprehensively. His ability to sense pie is perhaps even greater than his ability to fight supernatural crime.

"Is that pie?" Tsuzuki asks cautiously.

"Cherry." Muraki offers helpfully.

"Oh, can I have a slice?" Tsuzuki says, before his young partner can smack him upside the head with a definitive 'no.'

"Of course. I was just bringing it to the break room to share, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki says. "Care to join me?"

"Pie!"

***

"Won~der~ful!" Tsuzuki's in heaven. The nice big slice of pie is everything and more he hoped it would be, fresh cherries cooked down into a sweet syrupy consistency, latticed with a sugar-sprinkled crust. Muraki looks on in amusement as Tsuzuki spoons pie decadently into his mouth.

Hisoka rolls his eyes, sitting next to Tsuzuki at the break room table. He was sure this was going to happen - there's not much one can do when it came to Tsuzuki and desserts. He looks at Muraki suspiciously across the table. Muraki appears to be trying nothing, but the provenance of the pie was always suspect.

"Hey. Where'd you get this pie?" Hisoka asks.

But before Muraki can say a thing, Tsuzuki slips a spoonful into Hisoka's mouth. Hisoka blinks in surprise, and nearly chokes. But then he remembers to chew, and oh yes. It's quite a delicious pie.

"Ne, Hisoka. Isn't it good?" Tsuzuki says, with a bit of a glint in his eye. "Want another bite?" Tsuzuki's intentions can be sensed a mile away even as Muraki is stunned speechless.

"Of course," Hisoka says, playing along even if he doesn't *really* want pie. Obediently, he shuts his eyes and opens his mouth as Tsuzuki feeds him another bite of pie.

It's quite disgustingly cute. Muraki's eye twitches.

"Another bite, Hisoka?" Tsuzuki says sweetly.

"Please," Hisoka breathes, his voice tinged with lingering pleading. "I want more. Please…"

Tsuzuki obliges gracefully, this time purposefully letting a bit of cherry filling catch along Hisoka's lips.

"Oh, you've got something on your face," Tsuzuki says with exaggerated concern. "Here, let me get it." He leans forward, making as if to kiss Hisoka, and pulls back at the last second to wipe at the stray bit of cherry-infused syrup with his finger, sucking the red sweetness off his finger lasciviously.

Muraki is somewhere between livid and scandalized. Hisoka tries his best to keep from laughing out loud.

"Hey. Who brought the pie?" Terazuma does a sudden stop before the open break room door. Behind him, Wakaba stops, hearing the word 'pie.'

"No fair! Tsuzuki-chan, you have to share!" Wakaba says, as she and Terazuma join the others, sitting down across the table from Hisoka and Tsuzuki.

"It was a surprise pie! Muraki showed up with it, and we thought we'd have a slice...I wasn't trying to hide it, honest!" Tsuzuki says as Muraki dishes up a few slices for Terazuma and Wakaba.

"I forgive you this time," Wakaba says with a wink. "Itadakimasu!" She and Terazuma begin to eat the pie.

A few minutes of silence pass in which pie is consumed.

"Ne, Tsuzuki?" Hisoka looks a bit flushed.

"Yes." Tsuzuki looks similar.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Let's go. Ah, excuse us! We're…uh…going to the library to study. Seeyoualllater!" Tsuzuki says, grabbing Hisoka and making a hasty exit.

"Eh? What's that about?" Terazuma wonders. "This isn't some sort of high school."

"Hajime, just eat your pie," Wakaba says. "Mmm, I love this! So good…I'm no good at baking pies. I can never get the crust right."

"The secret, Wakaba-chan, is in the handling of the dough," Tatsumi says, leaning on the doorway. "Really, you would think that I would get invited to these things once in a while."

"My apologies, Tatsumi-san," Muraki says, cutting Tatsumi a slice and plating it as Tatsumi sits across from him. "It was an impromptu pie break."

Tatsumi accepts the pie. "For future reference, please keep me filled in on matters of departmental importance," Tatsumi says, as he takes a bite of the pie.

Muraki doesn't know if he's joking or not, so he just nods in acceptance.

Terazuma pushes the empty plate back, and leans against his chair, stretching. "Ah…that was a good slice of pie."

"Mm-hmm!" Wakaba's still eating.

Terazuma's arms stretch out, and one of them comes to rest against Muraki's shoulders companionably. "You really are a good little Shinigami, you know that? Sharing your pie with us." Terazuma's like a lazy affectionate cat, kneading his outstretched hand along one of Muraki's shoulders.

Muraki is very surprised.

"You know, sometimes, in the right light, you're as pretty as a girl…" Terazuma whispers into Muraki's ear. Muraki nearly bolts from the sudden change in character. "Since I can't touch girls…why don't we…" The rest is a muffled insinuation.

Muraki's jaw goes slack.

Tatsumi pushes his cleaned plate forward, wiping at his lips carefully with a handkerchief. Of course, he doesn't need it - he's a meticulous eater. For a moment, a strange expression comes across his face, and it seems as if he's fighting some internal war. But it passes in a flash, so sudden that one would think it to be non-existent. But really, it's been shoved into a simmer, forced down to keep from boiling over. Tatsumi reaches up to unbutton the top collar of his shirt, feeling as though he's a bit overheated.

"Muraki-san. I notice you haven't had any pie," Tatsumi says, suspiciously, as he worries at his tie.

"I don't particularly care for cherry," Muraki says uncomfortably, as he tries to untangle himself from Terazuma, who's managed to drape himself over the taller man like a cat sleeping on a computer monitor. Except with more rubbing.

"Then why do you have this pie?" Wakaba blinks, wondering what in the world's come over her partner. She, as it appears, remains unaffected by the pie's workings.

"Good question, Wakaba-chan," Tatsumi says, as he looks at her, as if noticing her for the very first time. "You have such very lovely eyes, Wakaba-chan." Tatsumi reaches over the table, and clasps at Wakaba's fingers with his, drowning her in his equally lovely blue eyes.

Wakaba blushes, a pretty pink. "Thank you, Tatsumi-san."

"Get your hands off of my partner," Terazuma says without much heat, as if more by routine than real vehemence, as Muraki tries to push him off without damaging his dignity.

"I would say the same about you, Terazuma-san," Tatsumi says, without looking away from Wakaba, who blushes even more as his fingers stroke her hands. "Now if you could please let him go…"

"You first," Terazuma says, nuzzling at Muraki's neck.

"W-wait, Terazuma-san, this is…highly unusual!" Muraki squawks as Terazuma knocks them both to the floor, the chairs tumbling down around them in a disregarded clatter. Wakaba would normally be all over this with a camera, but she's entranced by Tatsumi who's gotten up to lean over the table as if to kiss her.

"Th…the pie!" Muraki flails as Terazuma pins his wrists. "There must have been something in it! It's…gah! Terazuma-san, stop that! It…it was a gift from Watari!"

"Watari?" Three pairs of eyes blink as everything goes into pause for a moment.

Thirty seconds later, the Summons Division of Enmacho is much busier than it was ten minutes ago, and not in the paperwork sense.

"Professor Watari's Instant-slut formula! Now with 30% more aphrodisiacs! Number one in the nation for curing coworker hang-ups! But wait! There's more! Buy now and get the new and improved Inhibition-Loss Blackmail formula! Only 1700 yen + shipping and handling!"