Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ The First Death ❯ Chapter 10: The True Death, Part 6 ( Chapter 10 )

The True Death, Part 6

Summary: Morning comes, and the Shinigami move to rescue Hisoka.

|Hisoka|

Down the upstairs hallway to the right is the doll room. Kazutaka's in there by himself. I know because I saw her leave. I think she must have broken something because I heard something slam against the floor earlier.

When I get to the door, I don't bother knocking. I just go inside. There's a lock on the door and I turn the latch, shutting us in.

It's dark, but the light filters in from under the doorway and there are lights in the display cases that brighten the gloom. There are no windows in here, but I don't feel like turning the light on.

He's sitting in the deep shadow of one of the cases. His pale hands are wound in the doll's fair hair. There are shards of porcelain all around him on the ground where he's sitting. I'm surprised he hasn't cut himself.

He's trying not to cry, but I can tell he's hurt.

It's not that she does anything to him that I can really prove. I've never seen her hit him. It's crossed my mind more than once to turn them all into the police just because of the strangeness, but I've learned that he'd never break her confidence. The two of them, they're like cohorts, mutual companions in madness. I might be just a kid, but I know that there is something with those two that is wrong. But I don't understand it completely. "Hey." My black school uniform coat creases when I sit down on the floor with him. I try to be careful not to cut myself on the shards. "Want to talk about it?"

"No." His silver-pale hair catches the light in the dark room. The faces of the dolls on the shelves around us float in the shadows like dozens of porcelain ghosts…

|Saki|

The dolls sing so sweetly, Kazutaka. Their voices are like the whispers of children filling the room with their mismatched babbling songs. I know the doll room was always the place you liked the best. No windows, only this door that leads inside from the long hallway. It protects them from the sun and keeps them beautiful and pale, just like you.

Do you see this one? She's still got the same taffeta dress and the bonnet that you liked.

Take her. I know she's your favorite.

Oh, but you're sleeping now. Little brother, you're so lovely. I never told you this, did I? I always thought you were like a doll yourself in a way. Even when we had that fight and you knocked me over and said you hated me and you didn't want me to be your brother and I broke your arm…but that was an accident.

Just an accident. I didn't mean to hurt you.

Don't cry, Kazutaka. She can't hurt you anymore. Now she's dead. You're just having a nightmare from the past.

Now take the doll.

|Tatsumi|

Tatsumi wakes up just after dawn. He realizes that Tsuzuki is nestled in his arms, sleeping, though not soundly, as a tear trickles down Tsuzuki's face. It reminds him of that night in Kyoto a year ago - that voice, quivering with hurt and misery.

Tsuzuki's pain is heartbreaking. The way he's sleeping - on his side with his forehead pressed against Tatsumi's shoulder - reality melds with wavering memory. A lifetime ago and Tsuzuki slept like a child strewn among toys and death, blood soaking into the floor - his own.

"Wake up, Tsuzuki." Tatsumi's voice is soft, but insistent. He draws Tsuzuki closer into his arms, feeling the tremble of Tsuzuki's breath against his shirt.

"Mmm…no…Hisoka…" Another tear, and Tatsumi brushes it away carefully with his finger. The touch stirs Tsuzuki into awareness.

"Tsuzuki." Tatsumi's voice is comforting.

"It's my fault…it's all my fault." Tsuzuki wakes up sobbing, the nightmare chasing him into the conscious world. "Now…now I can't find him." Tsuzuki's voice is broken with anguish.

"It's all right. We'll get Hisoka back. I promise." Tatsumi whispers, stroking Tsuzuki's hair comfortingly, realizing last night's calm was only a cover; Tsuzuki had wanted to hide his pain and what better way to do it than to submerge it in Tatsumi's own?

It's so very Tsuzuki. Tatsumi closes his eyes and their embrace tightens for a moment. So many memories of the past, of the two of them together like this. It reminds him of their final case together as partners, where the strain of working in Tokyo had finally broken something important in Tsuzuki (his heart, Tatsumi remembers, it had broken his heart to send that child in the sleep of death, it couldn't be helped, it had to be done, just business as usual). It was back then that they were staying at a shabby little hotel just outside of Tokyo - when he walked by that neighborhood a few days ago following Muraki he could almost remember the way that it smelled, the musky scent of mold and water damage even though the building had long since been demolished…

Suddenly, it connects. He knows what they must do. Gently, he untangles himself from Tsuzuki's arms.

"Tsuzuki-san." Tatsumi's back to business. He brushes a final tear from Tsuzuki's face, looking at him very seriously. "I have an idea."

Half an hour later, they're out hunting for Saki.

Tatsumi has seen the files. He knows there are certain addresses important to Saki's childhood. If Saki's mind is seeing images from the past, as Sakaki and Oriya reported, then it's likely that Saki will gravitate toward the places that he was familiar with in when he was young.

The first, listed as a tiny apartment. Since then, it's been razed and converted into a parking structure. They find nothing there.

The second, an orphanage. It's been turned into a school; they wander the empty halls like tall morning shadows for a few minutes before deciding that it too is a dead end.

Finally, a grand western-style house. The doors are padlocked shut; the downstairs windows are boarded up haphazardly. If it's not this place then Tatsumi will have to speak to the chief about contacting their American counterparts.

Tatsumi looks to Tsuzuki, who nods as if to say 'go on.' Tatsumi's hand flits over the lock and a shadow worms its way into the keyhole, tipping the tumblers open. The lock releases and he opens the door. It squeaks loudly from disuse.

Tatsumi nods to Tsuzuki. They move forward, closing the door behind them.

Through the dusty air, the sunlight glints through the cracks in the boarded windows. There's a whole assortment of furniture covered in sheets like the ghosts of dead possessions, left in a strange limbo awaiting the return of the master who will never come home. But for the dust, it would have been immaculate. There are pictures on the walls; Tatsumi has never seen Muraki so young - a child in short pants, a little boy with haunted gray eyes.

There are little hints of personality here and there; a folded origami flower slipped into a clear blue-green crackleware vase mantled in dust, the original color of the paper lost to time. A raven-haired doll whose curls are limned with gray as if old age is catching up to it; when Tatsumi's shadow slips by it gently, the dust floats off, wafting into the air, gently caught between a draft and a stray beam of light.

The doll's cobalt blue eyes regard the Shinigami silently as the two pass by.

Tatsumi lets his shadows do the work for him, feeling the sensations of the angles of the walls, shade cast along corners and doorways, looking for the rounded shadows and regular motion of breathing that would indicate human life.

But he doesn't find it here. They'll have to go through the house.

Room after room, they uncover more of Muraki's life outside of the world they knew - a kitchen, his old office, a guest room, storage closets. They find the wing of the house that used to serve as a hospital - when Tsuzuki sees it, he has such a strong reaction that Tatsumi has to lead him gently away before memory seizes him firmly within its grip.

Fortunately, Tsuzuki comes back to himself quickly.

A few minutes is all that it takes and they rule out the bottom floor.

Upstairs then.

Tatsumi leads the way, shadows swirling in his wake as he ascends the stair, the wood creaking gently beneath his steps. Tsuzuki follows, his violet eyes lost in thought, or merely lost. The sun's light peeks into a window at the head of the stairs, illuminating the hallway.

Tatsumi glances around and quickly sees what they've been looking for.

Cold white light pours out from a particular doorway. The door's open.

Tatsumi looks to Tsuzuki, who shrugs. It's the wrong direction for the sun to be coming in from.

Tatsumi lifts his finger up to his lips, a signal to Tsuzuki. Then, without warning he disappears into a shadow.

A moment later he reappears on the other side of the doorway down the hall. Tsuzuki moves quickly and noiselessly toward the entrance.

They chance a glance.

Saki is surrounded by light layered in darkness so profound that it can't be described as shadow, the two melding like water meeting oil, barely held together in a roiling tumble. Dolls are scattered everywhere, broken to fragments, porcelain creating a deranged shatter of eyes and lips, hands and limbs.

Fresh blood glints off some of the shards, but it's impossible to tell whose it is.

Tsuzuki's eyes grow wide with astonishment when he sees Hisoka, half-sprawled in Saki's arms as if he's a doll himself.

Hisoka is staring straight at him.

But he doesn't see them.

|Hisoka|

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." His fingers twist the doll's hair. It has only the upper half of its face. The rest has been broken off. It's missing an eye. I pick up a piece of the chin. The break is clean and I run the edge of porcelain between my fingers absently, feeling how sharp it is.

"You don't want me to be your brother, do you?" We've been skirting this for weeks. I can count the days I've been here. I've been marking it off in my mind. I hate this place so much that if I could, I'd burn it down with everyone still inside.

He starts. It's hard to see him, but I can hear the rustle of his clothes as he moves. The black of the high school uniform (and we're dressed the same since we're in the same school and even the same classroom, though he avoids me at all costs when he can) blends into the darkness, leaving just his face, hair, and hands like a wisp of a spirit.

"Not really," he confesses. Finally, we're getting somewhere. His voice has a hard edge to it. He hates me.

"Why?"

He doesn't respond, but I know why he dislikes me. It's because I'm an intruder in his world. I make him feel unwelcome and unwanted. Most of all, I make him feel like an outsider, as if he doesn't belong in the home that he's lived in all his life. My existence means that he's no longer welcome.

That man. Our father. He likes me better. I'm the son that looks like him the most, with black hair and brown eyes like any other normal kid. My mother was charming and polite, a sweet and demure woman. She wasn't anything like the colorless monster that roams the rambling rooms of this big empty house. She wasn't frighteningly beautiful, as alien as the moon. She was just pretty.

I miss her. Sometimes, I miss her so badly I feel like I could die from the pain.

"You hate me." I stare at him, thinking. You hate me, and I hate your family. But oddly, I don't hate you. But I resent you. You've never known what it's like to really hurt. You've never known what it's like to lose something important to you. I'd like to share.

"Mmm-hmm." His eyelids flutter. I can tell because of the reflection of the light off his gray eyes. Perfectly gray eyes are rare among the Japanese. But ones like his shouldn't exist. They're almost silver and so pale that sometimes at night, they reflect light like a cat's.

"Hey, Kazutaka."

"Yes?" His voice sounds suspicious. Well, he should be. I've got him locked in a dark room. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. Ha ha.

"I heard something interesting the other day."

"Oh?"

"I heard your father tell that professor friend of his that you're a failed experiment. You know, you really shouldn't exist."

He comes at me with both hands. I laugh as they go around my throat. He's pretty strong. But I'm stronger.

|Saki|

You don't know me at all, little brother. You don't know what I went through - you never understood me. You never tried.

I smiled all the time, but it was only because I had to hide the insides of myself from father, from everyone. From you.

I never trusted your family. I was always a stranger they were trying to draw in, just as you were a stranger among them that was trying to draw out.

There were days…so many days when I slept alone in that room they gave me. I imagined you on the opposite side of the wall…we never had to share anything, did we? Not rooms, not toys, not memories - no, the only thing we really shared was blood and even that was a tenuous link.

Sometimes at night, I thought perhaps that you were on the other side of the wall from me, the covers over your head as I had mine over my head, waiting until morning as the creaks of her feet along the bare floorboards moved slowly up and down the downstairs hallway.

Brother, I wanted to tell you…

Hmm.

Now that was odd. If I didn't know better, I would have said that the shadows in this room just moved.

|Terazuma|

So now everyone is in his house. Even Tsuzuki and Tatsumi.

Terazuma nearly falls out of his makeshift bed (the couch) when Tatsumi sits down next to him to use the phone, startling him out of deep sleep.

"Good morning, Terazuma-san. I know this is highly unusual, but we have an emergency on our hands," Tatsumi says smoothly, but not before Terazuma yelps and glares, bounding up from beneath the covers, the pillow flying out of his hands straight at Tatsumi's head. This is immediately followed by a moment of extreme embarrassment as he realizes he's in his boxer shorts in front of what seems like half the department and a few random humans. Stomping off, he manages to sneak in a quick change, some basic ablutions, and a surprisingly excellent cup of coffee (he needs the caffeine badly - he's tired from last night and still waking up).

By the time he returns and drags over a chair to listen, they're already formulating a course of action and Wakaba is sitting down with Watari on the couch. Watari has safety goggles on his head and is positioning a big case before him that looks like one of his crazy inventions.

Terazuma twitches. He is definitely going to get this reimbursed.

The other Shinigami are all sitting around his living room; Muraki, Wakaba, and Watari on the couch, Tatsumi holding court from a straight-backed chair, Tsuzuki standing beside him, and the two humans watching from the nearby dining room table, listening in on the proceedings.

"Now that everyone is here, we'll begin. Earlier this morning, Tsuzuki-san and I scouted the location. Watari?"

"Hot off the copier!" Watari hands out photocopied floor plans. When Muraki sees what's on the paper, he gives a violent start. Wakaba drags him back onto the couch, making him sit down again.

"Thank you, Watari-san." Tatsumi nods to Watari before continuing. "Tsuzuki-san and I located them on the second-floor room as notated on the floor plan. We attempted to neutralize Shidou-san and rescue Kurosaki-kun, but were thwarted."

"How?" Wakaba asks, puzzled. Terazuma thinks it's pretty odd too - the two of them are easily the most powerful Shinigami currently in the department.

"Saki's got some sort of field around him that's protecting him. Something like a kekkai barrier," Tsuzuki says, gesturing as if he can somehow describe the nature of the field by waving and wiggling his fingers. "Tatsumi's shadows can't get a strong enough grip on whatever it is to get around him."

"In addition, Tsuzuki-san recognized that Kurosaki-kun has fallen into a state of…" Tatsumi looks uncomfortable, but continues coolly. "Fallen into a state of empathic synchronization with Saki. He believes that were we to separate them by harming Shidou-san, the shock would damage Kurosaki-kun's mind."

Terazuma winces. That can't be a good thing. "Any way we can make sure that this doesn't hurt Kurosaki?"

"That's a very good question. Watari?" Tatsumi nods.

"I've got the perfect solution!" Watari pulls out a silver handgun from a hidden pocket, brandishing it in the air.

"You want me to shoot Saki?" Terazuma looks at it skeptically as Watari hands it to him. It's ridiculously light, as if it's made of aluminum or plastic. "With this…thing?" Terazuma doubts it could take down a fly, much less a crazed lunatic.

"Yes and no! This is a special close-range low caliber tranquilizer gun I developed just for situations like this. You load the dart here, aim, and fire." Watari pantomimes the motion. "Just make sure not to hit anything vital, because it's a powerful tranquilizer - you'll kill him if you miss."

"So one shot's all I got?"

"Yep!"

"I like those odds." Terazuma grins.

"Hajime-chan watches too many action movies," Wakaba observes.

"S-shut up!"

"Terazuma-san..." Tatsumi's voice carries the hint of a threat. Terazuma quickly calms down and sits quietly, awaiting further instruction.

"Tsuzuki-san and I have worked out a plan," Tatsumi states. "As the best shot in our department, Terazuma-san will tranquilize Saki. Wakaba, you will cover him. You two are team one."

"All right! Division four to the rescue!" Wakaba exclaims.

"Watari-san and I will enter the room first and assault that strange field around Saki. We will be team two. Hopefully we'll either take it down or distract Saki enough for you to get a shot in, Terazuma-san." Tatsumi turns to look at Muraki. "As for you…"

Muraki's eyes are unreadable behind his glasses.

"I didn't want to do this, but as Tsuzuki-san pointed out, we will need all the available manpower we have." Tatsumi sighs. It's something that he had been very adamant against, but Tsuzuki had insisted. "I want you to cover Tsuzuki-san when he goes after Hisoka. You two will be the third team."

"All right."

Terazuma looks at Muraki suspiciously, as if he doesn't believe that Muraki's compliance would be that easy.

"Watari-san?" Tatsumi nods to Watari, giving him the floor.

"Tatsumi asked me to share my findings with everyone to let you know what I've come up with. Last night Muraki and I determined that Saki is possessed by something." Watari fiddles with the latches on his case. Terazuma irritably wonders if he's going to blow up the house.

"I went through some of our old files last night to figure out what exactly is possessing him. That made me think, because possessions among humans are very, very rare (I checked the statistics), so I ran the DNA again and I realized that there was something about Muraki and Tsuzuki's make up that make them more vulnerable to being possessed than regular people so that means Saki managed to create something totally unique. Then I thought, I wonder if I could ask him if he could help me with my gender reversal project if he could change something on the DNA level…"

"Watari-san, the findings on the possession…" Tatsumi gently interrupts.

"Oh right. That. Well, my conclusion is that what's happened to Saki is not like what happened a couple years ago with that demon."

Worried murmurs all around.

"But!" Watari raises his right index finger to make his point. "This isn't a specific demon. These are natural spirits. They're not purposefully malicious or beneficial - they're just following their own internal programming." Terazuma hears a little surprised gasp of inhalation. He half-turns his head - it's that friend of Muraki's. Odd, he would have thought maybe Tsuzuki would have been surprised, but Tsuzuki just nods.

"Spirits? Do you mean like ghosts?" Wakaba asks.

"No. These are more like naturally occurring phenomena. They've never been human."

"So what do we need to do to fix him?" Tsuzuki asks.

"I'm glad you asked, Tsuzuki!" Watari opens the case. Inside is what appears to be a rather sizeable gun, almost like a small futuristic cannon. "This." Watari hoists the gun into the air, showing it off with a flourish. Like the other one, it's shiny and light. "My patented Ultra Ofuda Plus 3000. I call it Spengerer-san number two! It shoots! It scores! You win!"

"Uh…?" Tsuzuki stares.

"You just pop it open." Watari demonstrates, flipping the cover off. Inside, there are a lot of wires and blinking LED lights. There is also an ofuda inside, held taut between two clasps that slowly rotate the spell paper. "Insert the ofuda of choice and ta-da! Instant spell gun. Of course, this model has an 80-85% loss in energy output, but that's okay! A fully powered ReiBaku-type spell would kill a normal human being and then some. If my calculations are correct, this is just strong enough to disrupt whatever field surrounds Saki. But we better hurry, because according to my theory, if we don't fix him up within the next few hours, it's possible that a stronger entity, like a real demon or angel might notice Saki's state and decide to take up residence."

Terazuma gives Tsuzuki a suspicious look. Tsuzuki shakes his head, his jaw set, and his hands clenched tight.

"What if your…uh…gun doesn't work?" Terazuma points out.

"Then we'll have to play it by ear!" Watari grins.

Terazuma's about to say something snide but Tatsumi cuts him off.

"That being said," Tatsumi adjusts his glasses. "First and foremost, this is a rescue mission. We are not to do anything that might possibly endanger Shidou-san or Kurosaki-kun. This includes a ban on all shikigami if it can be helped. The area we're looking at is very limited and calling upon a summon might send Shidou-san teleporting off again to who knows where. Killing him is also out of the question as it may irreparably damage Kurosaki-kun. He's already survived one major shock in the last few weeks; another one may just wound him permanently." Tatsumi looks around the room, meeting the eyes of all the assembled Shinigami.

Except for Muraki, who stares at the ground and nods in unwilling agreement, his lips twisting with frustration.

"This means that all former vendettas must be set aside. Do you understand?" This is of course, directed at Muraki.

"Yes." Muraki says softly. He looks up, his mismatched eyes serious. "I understand, Tatsumi-san."

"Good. You have twenty minutes. Now is the time to ask questions if you have any. Make sure to go over the basic plans with your teammate. We'll be heading out at 8:00 A.M. sharp."

An outside voice interrupts. It's Oriya.

"I would like to volunteer," Oriya says evenly. His eyes meet Tatsumi's from across the room. Terazuma wonders if he's got something against Saki - it seems like everyone does, these days.

"I appreciate your concern, Mibu-san," Tatsumi replies. "However in this instance I would be very grateful if you could stay here and protect Sakaki-san in case Saki decides to teleport again. For all we know he could come here."

Oriya looks mildly disappointed, but nods. "That's acceptable."

"No more questions? Good. Meeting dismissed. Try to get a little food before we go, everyone."

|Sakaki|

Sakaki insists on helping Wakaba with a quick breakfast for the various visitors, just some toast with jam. It's not much, but he feels like he should do it since he's currently the least useful person in the building. While it's one thing to be under Muraki's wing, it's another to impose on strangers.

While the others are standing around the kitchen and dining area munching on toast and discussing technical things about magic that are far beyond his level of comprehension, he finds Muraki sitting in the living room and manages to coax him into coming with him to the kitchen for some food.

Muraki stands leaning against one of the countertops, a half-filled cup of coffee in his hands, sipping thoughtfully as Sakaki puts some more bread in the toaster. The rest of the Shinigami have moved over to the dining table to formulate their plans; there's some excited chatter about kekkai field theory and so forth. If Sakaki pays attention, he can vaguely pick out what's going on, but it's outside of his usual realm of experience.

"Sensei…"

"Ah, Muraki? I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Tsuzuki walks into the kitchen. Sakaki turns to look at Tsuzuki; behind him, the brown-suited secretary is watching impassively.

Muraki shrugs. He looks blank, but Sakaki knows he's profoundly irritated at something. Saki guesses that it's most likely a combination of Saki and being singled out at the meeting. Muraki never liked being criticized in work-related matters.

"I need to talk to you." Tsuzuki gives Sakaki a look as if wondering if Muraki would send him away.

"Yes? What is it?" Muraki's stance suggests that he has no plans on dismissing him. Sakaki turns his back as if to concentrate on the toast, becoming unobtrusive. Tsuzuki darts a glance at Sakaki, and then walks Muraki over to the far side of the kitchen. Sakaki counts to ten, hearing Tsuzuki's footsteps move away from him, and then half-turns to watch them out of the corner of his eye.

"Listen, Muraki." Tsuzuki looks very serious. His expression is shadowed with anger and anxiety but he's calm, controlling it. "I want to make a bargain with you."

"A bargain?" Muraki sounds genuinely curious. This is very unexpected. He sets down his coffee.

"I want you to promise me that you won't try to kill Saki..."

"I can't do that," Muraki interrupts.

"…And in return, once we get Hisoka back, I promise we'll go see if he can help Ukyou. Hisoka's an empath and…"

Muraki grabs Tsuzuki by his lapels, dragging him close. Sakaki tenses, but does nothing. Ukyou. He knows about her but has never met her himself. There was a picture that Muraki kept in his desk, but Sakaki wasn't supposed to know about it…

"How do you know about Ukyou?" Muraki hisses, his voice a harsh whisper.

"In Kyoto, you told me that you had a fiancée. After the lab burned down, I investigated. I was curious," Tsuzuki says, untangling Muraki from his coat and getting him to loosen his grip. "I thought she might know where you were, but the state that she was in brought up some…some bad memories. So I left."

"Then why this fancy run-around with Saki, Tsuzuki-san, if you could just blackmail me in the first place? Why risk it?"

"Honestly, Muraki, I didn't think about it." Tsuzuki looks a little embarrassed. "It's been over a year. After I saw her, I decided that I'd try to stop thinking about anything relating to the incident in Kyoto." He says his last few words very deliberately, as if he's choosing his words carefully.

Muraki's eyes are hard. Sakaki doesn't remember ever seeing him this angry before. It's a fearsome anger - the quieter Muraki gets when he's mad, the more deadly his rage. He watches warily.

"Look, Muraki. We can help each other," Tsuzuki says gently. "Let go of Saki and I promise we'll help Ukyou. I swear on it. I'll get Hisoka to do whatever it takes to help her."

"Mmm." Muraki looks away. It's not a real answer, but it effectively kills the conversation.

Sakaki finally notices that the brown-suited secretary has been watching this entire exchange.

"More toast, Tatsumi-san?" The bread pings up as if on cue.

"No thank you, Sakaki-san." He looks over at Muraki and Tsuzuki, his expression unreadable. "It's time to go."

|Hisoka|

"I hate you! I wish you were dead!" Kazutaka's fingers dig into my throat, his fingernails drawing blood.

I let him do this for a moment before turning the tables. It's funny. He really doesn't know anything about me at all.

I knock his feet out from under him with a sweep of my right leg and grab his arm when he lets go of me, twisting it behind his back.

"You asshole. You made me bleed," I say, my teeth gritted.

"Let me go!"

I twist his arm even more. I wonder what amount of pressure it would take to break it. I'm not going to though. I just want to see him squirm.

"Saki!" He twists, trying to dislodge me but I hold him firmly without giving him quarter, and then I hear the snap of bone. He screams, a weak sound.

"Oh God, Kazutaka!" I didn't mean it. I didn't…didn't want to hurt him. I just wanted to scare him. Just to let him know that he shouldn't try to kill me. I'm his brother, after all.

He's crumpled to the floor with a thud; the pain's stunned him into a daze.

"Kazutaka! I'm sorry! Oh God, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you!" I scramble to unlock the doors and turn on the light. The old servant, Sakaki, is already running up the stairs. I can hear his footsteps pounding against the floorboards. "I promise, I'll protect you…I promise! I didn't mean to hurt you!"

Kazutaka is lying limply on the ground, his gray eyes staring out blankly at nothing. Except for the rise and fall of his breaths, he looks as though he could be a corpse.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. God. Please." I keep saying this until the words become a meaningless jumble.

This must be how Cain felt. That sickening satisfaction mingled with fear.

There's nowhere to hide from God. Not even in the darkness of a windowless room.

The sorrys turn into a little choked laugh after they take Kazutaka downstairs to the hospital wing of the house. Had there been someone in the room at the time, they probably would have smacked me for my impertinence.

I don't want to do it. I'm scared. But I now realize that I can join mother in hell if I murder. Thou shalt not. It says so in the Bible. I can break two commandments with one crime if I kill the parents first. Honor thy mother and thy father. I'll honor my mother by killing my father.

I'll save Kazutaka for last. Maybe I'll even let him live. Just in case. I don't want to be Cain so I have to wander the earth forever without knowing rest.

After all, I've got a date with hell…

|Saki|

Because hell is the only place we can be together, brother. You and I.

I always wanted us to be friends, Kazutaka. Allies. But from the beginning you pushed me away. I tried. I really did. Yet could I blame you? You were just a child too. Even more so because you had lived such a sheltered existence petted and pampered like a doll, even as you were growing into a man.

Your father betrayed you as much as he betrayed me when he brought us together. I hated you because you were the child he nurtured. You hated me because I was the child he wanted. Still, I thought that we had something in common in our hatred. An affinity. I knew that I didn't hate you so much as the idea of you. And you didn't hate me so much as the idea of me. But you never understood that.

It's a simple concept, Kazutaka. The meanings that people ascribe to things are greater than the things themselves. You should remember that; it's very important. Just like these dolls remind you of your mother and your childhood, even though they're really just shells of porcelain and paint with a little hair and clothing to make them look more alive.

They don't mean anything by themselves. They're just hollow imitations of humans. Break one, and it's gone forever. Patching it back will never make it the same. It'll always be broken. Just look for the lines of the breaks.

All that doesn't matter anymore. I've got a second chance. You're here with me again, and it's as if time's turned back on itself somehow.

I don't understand how it works, but I want us to be friends now, Kazutaka. This time I won't hurt you. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.

This time, we'll be brothers. The future hasn't happened yet.

Let's sing with the dolls, little brother. They missed you.

|Tatsumi|

In the growing morning light the Shinigami appear in the garden behind the house. It's overgrown; a tangle of briary roses both crimson and white, vines and creepers eating up the garden walls, the grass high to their knees.

"Preliminary scouting suggests that one or the both of them might be injured. As soon as we get them separated, I want them brought back immediately to the infirmary. Is that clear?" Tatsumi looks around the assembled Shinigami. Wakaba and Tsuzuki are holding barrier ofuda in their hands, ready to activate them. Watari's slipped the goggles on his head over his eyes, his ofuda cannon gripped tightly in his hands. Terazuma has the tranquilizer pistol in hand. Muraki looks grim but ready.

Nods of assent all around. "Then let's go."

|Muraki|

Damn Saki that he would come here.

I haven't been here since I had it locked up almost a year ago - when we open the back door, there's enough unsettled dust in the air to make some of the others sneeze.

In the past, I never brought anyone here if I could help it. Only Sakaki and Oriya ever did come to the house - it felt wrong to impose my memories on others, on people that did not deserve it. Especially, I did not allow Ukyou to come.

I wonder if that would have made a difference. But I was young then, and the past weighed so heavily that it felt as though I could be crushed by it. For the longest time, since university I believe, I lived in little apartments in the city. It seemed as though I could run away from myself.

I suppose I never did.

Still, I wonder now, as the Shinigami move through the house, deliberate steps through the kitchen and into the parlor where all the pictures on the wall are (excepting those of my parents and Saki; I removed them years ago), what Ukyou would have made of this house. Would she have felt its haunted presence just as I had a lifetime ago? Would she have walked up through the stairs, her profile catching in the light just as Wakaba's does, the ribbons in her hair rustling as she turns her head toward the upstairs hall?

Would the memories of blood and betrayal still seep out from the very walls themselves?

Ukyou…

I never told you this, Ukyou, and it seems silly, but this man, this Tsuzuki who now walks beside me… From the very beginning, he reminded me of you. Before the accident, before the person that was you disappeared from my life, leaving behind only a silent shell.

And what would I have said to that? That you both had a certain wistfulness, that you both had your particular quirks. It was an insult beyond ridiculousness when I first saw him in his black coat, in haste but yet with respect for the sacred, walking up to me to ask for directions. Worried, but with a certain poise, a certain grace.

One that reminded me of you.

An insult. You both had that same fluster when I pressed; you both had a capacity for loving others that I never understood. I still don't.

But now, he's the one who's offering me a second chance. He, who I chased and tormented and nearly destroyed, trying to bring out something in him that wasn't you. That didn't make me think of cold fingers on a rainy day, that didn't make me think of the press of your lips against mine. That something in him that would destroy me too.

I wanted him to be my equal in madness. But instead, he kept reminding me of you.

I don't know what to do anymore, Ukyou. I don't know what I should do.

If I could ask you…if you could answer…

|Tatsumi|

They're here. Tatsumi glares at his partner, who's lost in thought. Wakaba pokes Muraki and he starts. Terazuma gives him a scowl as if to say, "Pay attention, idiot." Muraki nods quickly, as if he's just woken up. Tatsumi sighs, shaking his head.

He turns his attention away from his errant partner and begins to gather shadows beneath his outstretched hand until they're a roiling mass ready to move at his command. He looks over at Watari and nods. Watari flashes him an 'okay' sign with his fingers, hefting his ofuda cannon.

They're going in.

Light mixed with dark, the field around Saki pulsates like an erratic heartbeat, growing and contracting as it moves. Since Tatsumi and Tsuzuki's earlier visit, Saki hasn't moved, cradling Hisoka in his arms like a lifeless doll. Tatsumi winces at the image. He hadn't been very serious earlier - he was just trying to get a feel for it. He had quickly learned that he couldn't do much against the energy signature of the field himself - the shadows were nearly useless against it. It reminds him of that night when Muraki took Tsuzuki from Meifu - that brilliant light had reduced the shadows around them to a level that he couldn't use, tiny shadows only someone like Sato could manipulate. Tatsumi's powers work best when there are deep pools of shadow that he can draw from; he can gather far more powerful shadows than Sato ever could.

Tatsumi swirls the shadows around himself and Watari, ready to block anything that comes their way. He moves forward slowly. Watari goes before him, one hand on his cannon, another on some sort of device that's reading the signature of the energy field.

"He's leeching off Bon to keep that field up," Watari whispers. "Gotta move fast." He tucks the sensory device away.

Tatsumi nods and glances at the others, gesturing for them to follow.

Watari powers up his ofuda cannon. It hums gently. Behind them on opposite sides of the doorway, Tsuzuki and Wakaba stand tensely, their ofudas held tautly between their upraised fingers, ready to go in.

And that's when Saki turns.

|Terazuma|

"Go!" Tatsumi's shadows swirl into a shield to protect Watari as the field around Saki begins to expand. Individual sections of his shadow shield contract and expand to tear and destroy tendrils of dark matter escaping the field. Terazuma runs into the room, bypassing Tatsumi and Watari, porcelain shards crunching under his feet, the tranquilizer gun brought to the fore. He should have brought sunglasses; that's what he's thinking, because the light in the room is blinding, blowing away the shadows so that there is nearly no darkness left in the room. Tatsumi must be drawing from the hallway, Terazuma thinks dimly as he looks for an opening.

He can just make out Saki's outline and that of Hisoka's through the light.

Wakaba is, of course, at his side. He didn't even notice her move, but he trusts her implicitly to protect him. Off to the right, Watari's shooting, the ofuda cannon sending out brilliant orange and violet pulses that disrupt the field around it. Where the field crumbles from the power of the ofuda cannon, there are openings. Terazuma's bracing his shooting hand with his free hand, patiently waiting for a gap that is big enough to send his dart through; he's got Saki in his sights and knows exactly where he wants to shoot.

Terazuma doesn't notice this, but around them are swirls of black coiling darkness that look like shadows but aren't, being something of a darker and stranger consistency. They're seeking…

Suddenly, Wakaba screams. Terazuma's jolted out of his concentration at that sound. The ofuda in her hand has shredded away, and tendrils are dragging her in toward the field.

"Kannuki!"

Before he thinks, he places himself between her and the field, heels digging into the floorboards to keep her from being dragged in. Shards slide around his feet and fly toward the field; they pulverize as they touch the blinding whiteness. Can't let the dark things touch me, he thinks, they'll break my concentration, I'll keep them from taking her, those black things that go through ofuda like a hot knife through butter… Automatically, he tucks her against his back, wrapping his arm around her waist from behind to keep her firmly against him so that she can't be pulled in further.

The tendrils begin to drag them both in. Terazuma grits his teeth, trying to hold his position. There's a bare six, maybe seven inches before he'd be dragged into the field. He expects that it won't kill him, but it won't be much fun to go through. Five inches now. Four. It's lapping at his feet.

"Now, Terazuma! Do it!" A voice calls. Watari's.

There's a big enough opening. The disruption of Watari's cannon has hit a high note - there's a nearly unbearable squeal from the cannon that makes him wince as whatever mechanical parts in it begin to fail from the strain of the energy output.

Terazuma shoots, aiming for the upper left shoulder.

|Muraki|

In that instant when Saki looks around in confusion as the dart hits him from behind and the field is disrupted, Tsuzuki moves, faster than I could ever expect, to whisk the boy out of his arms. It seems to happen between a blink and a breath - Tsuzuki's back again now with the boy dangling limply from his arms.

It's so tempting, so very tempting to just lash out with one of my forbidden spells to crush the last gasps of life out of him. Saki, so vulnerable, so weak, with a look of surprise in his eyes and a pool of blood around him that's soaked into the boy.

I move before I realize it, only to have Tsuzuki drag me back, his fingers tangled in my sleeve. But it's a half-hearted effort - I could easily shrug him off and close those inches between myself and that hateful brother. Saki. I snarl out the word in frustration.

I twist back to glare at Tsuzuki. But his expression...

I remember another pair of darker eyes. The eyes, that voice, that once told me that she wouldn't let me go. Ukyou. Tsuzuki's lovely eyes plead with me silently even as the muscles in my body shake with the desire to crush the life out of Saki. Would that you were here, Ukyou, you would have told me the same thing.

It's perhaps the hardest decision I've made in my life. In my afterlife. I turn my head. I can't look at Saki now that he's vulnerable, because if I do, I'll be tempted again. I'd kill him if I only could, but not if that means losing you forever, Ukyou.

As long as there's a chance…I'll take it.

There's another ten seconds before the tranquilizer's effects will take hold.

Nine. I can feel the field around him restabilize, light pouring back out from behind me. Dispassionately, I think that there must be some reserve left in Saki that Watari didn't predict. I've lost my only chance to kill him. After this, the Shinigami will protect him from me.

Eight. Tatsumi's shadows are spent, but the light from the dissipating field doesn't die down and he can't hold his shield much longer, not if he's to protect both himself and Watari.

Seven. Terazuma has shifted position, turning away from the field, holding Wakaba back from the tendrils of black that have wrapped around her arms and legs, trying to drag her in.

Six. My protective field manages to block the tendrils from attacking Tsuzuki and me; I'm using my powers to disperse those black coils as they come near us. It's harder than it looks and takes nearly all my concentration. Hisoka isn't breathing. Tsuzuki says that over and over again, panicking.

Five. Watari yells, "He's trying to teleport. Stop him!"

Four. Tatsumi's head swivels, looking for enough shadow to get Saki. He turns to Terazuma, who's stood in the same spot for at least a minute and a half. His shadow's burnt into the ground - the light can't touch it.

Three. With a quick gesture, Tatsumi sends a sliver of Terazuma's shadow through Saki's wrist, impaling the flesh and tethering him down. It's an old trick. The teleport won't work if Tatsumi's shadow is tying him down.

Two. Saki's taken too much energy from the boy. He'll fall into the true death if someone doesn't do anything soon. Immediately, I know what to do. There's a spell that saved me once in New York so many years ago, a spell that gave me a new life. The blue-eyed Shinigami…(his name was Roy…)

And I reverse the spell.

One. I put my hand along the boy's throat, brushing aside a few loose strands of wheat-gold hair, feeling the power drain down into his nearly lifeless body from my hand. I'm almost dizzy from the sudden energy loss but it'll work. Almost. It works better if I do this…

I half-push Tsuzuki away and lean down. My lips touch the boy's. The circuit completes and power flows into him from me. I can feel his breath move weakly against my cheek, stirring against my skin. Tsuzuki pulls the both of us close as the light and dark of the field swirl violently around us before it collapses upon itself.

The three of us disappear.

|Terazuma|

On the opposite side of the room from Muraki, Terazuma stumbles and falls over onto Wakaba as the field flickers down. He knocks her to the ground, fortunately in a corner that's mostly free from broken shards of glass and porcelain.

For a moment the two of them lay where they've fallen, panting from the exertion. Terazuma feels like he has just run a marathon, his heart pounding from the rush of adrenaline.

"Kannuki, you okay?"

"Hajime, you're squishing me…" Wakaba pushes at him when she's found her voice.

"S-sorry!" Terazuma throws himself off of her, managing to cut his hand open on a shard of broken glass. "Ow!"

"Hajime, are you all right?" Wakaba takes his hand. It's bleeding badly.

"Ow…shit. Yeah, I'll be all right…look, it's already closing up," Terazuma says, clasping her hand gently as if to reassure her that he's all right. His blood is already disappearing, seeping back into the broken skin.

"Hajime…" Wakaba's eyes light up.

"What?" Terazuma looks annoyed. It's that look that says, 'Hajime, I'd like you to re-roof the house please' or 'Hajime, I think you'd look good in this dress.' "What is it?"

"You're touching me." Wakaba's fingers tighten on his hand for a moment, as if she wants to savor the feeling before he changes.

Terazuma yelps and lets her go as if he's touched a live wire. Soon, KokuShunGei will stir and he'll transform and…and…

"Hey, wait a minute." Terazuma blinks. "I…You…"

"You didn't transform." Wakaba blinks.

"Well, holy shit." Terazuma looks pleased and surprised. "Let's try that again." He stands up, and offers his hand to Wakaba.

Wakaba smiles. Dusting off her skirt, she takes his hand, and lets him pull her up to her feet.

"Damn." Terazuma grins like an idiot, lifting their entwined fingers so he can get a better look at himself touching Wakaba. "Wow."

He pulls Wakaba into a spontaneous hug. "Wow." It's all he seems to be able to say. "Wow."

|Tatsumi|

As soon as the chaos dies down, Tatsumi and Watari go to tend to Saki, who like the field has collapsed, sprawled out on the ground like a broken marionette. Tatsumi pulls out the tranquilizer dart, pocketing it so they leave as little evidence as possible, while Watari checks his pulse. There's blood everywhere. Saki is slowly bleeding to death from the slice of a katana - Oriya's work, Tatsumi thinks grimly. Somehow, it seems fitting.

"No time to waste," Tatsumi says, but Watari's way ahead of him. Watari and Saki disappear. Tatsumi looks around to make sure everything is all right before following. He's the only one left. The others have gone before him. He stands up, straightening himself as he surveys the damage. The dolls are all broken, every one.

He nods to himself, as if the answer is now acceptable. Tatsumi disappears into his own shadow, which melts away after him.

Tsuzuki and Muraki are already in the infirmary by the time he makes it there.

Tsuzuki is sitting in a chair beside Hisoka's limp body, his hand clutching the boy's. The bed's elevated so that Hisoka's propped up and Muraki's checking his vital signs. Tatsumi walks over as Watari begins to patch Saki back up.

"Is he all right?" Tatsumi asks Tsuzuki softly.

"Yes. He's just sleeping now." Tsuzuki's violet eyes brim with tears. "He…he almost…but then…Muraki…"

"It's all right, Tsuzuki-san," Tatsumi says, resting his hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder.

"He's a little bruised and dehydrated, but he'll be all right," Muraki says tiredly.

"Thank you for your effort," Tatsumi says to Muraki. "Let's give them a little privacy," he adds. Muraki nods, following him away from Hisoka's bed.

Tatsumi leads them over to the far side of the room where they can watch Watari patch up Saki.

"I'm not going to help Watari-san," Muraki says simply as he sits down on a chair. In the distance, Watari is using a mix of magic, medical science, and potions to stabilize Saki. Tatsumi sits down in the chair beside him, for once not bothering to move it like he normally would. "I'd be tempted to let him die on the operating table. Malpractice is costly these days."

Tatsumi nods. "So I hear. I'm glad you didn't try." Though part of him is secretly disappointed because he wanted a chance at impaling Muraki with a shadow.

Muraki is about to say something, but instead he yawns. He looks exhausted.

Tatsumi can't help yawning as well. It's contagious.

He closes his eyes. Just a few minutes, he thinks, since everything's calmed down. After all, he deserves a moment's rest. It's been non-stop madness for the last week and a half. After this, he's going to request vacation time for everyone involved. His treat.

He almost startles when Muraki's head touches his shoulder. Muraki's fallen asleep.

Oddly, Tatsumi doesn't feel like throwing him off a cliff or strangling him. Well, not immediately. He lets Muraki sleep…for now.

Just for now, Tatsumi says to himself as he drowses off. Not because I trust him or anything, but because I feel sorry for the poor bastard.

Just because…something something? Tatsumi can't remember what he was just thinking as sleep overtakes him.

|Hisoka|

When I wake up, half the department is actually in the infirmary with me. Terazuma and Wakaba are sitting with Saki, who looks pale and drawn in sleep, but alive. I think they're guarding him or something. They're whispering between each other, something about daring the other to wake someone up. Wonder who they're talking about. Watari's sprawled out on one of the extra beds, his safety goggles dangling from a lax outstretched hand, snoring blissfully.

For some reason, Muraki and Tatsumi are sleeping in their chairs with their heads resting against each other across the room. I don't even want to think about why they're doing that, because that's just too insane for words.

And Tsuzuki's holding my hand. I can feel the warmth of his concern radiating through my body from that touch. It feels good, but I'm really thirsty.

"Water." My voice is raw, as if I've been screaming or something. I sort of don't remember all of it. Last night…last night feels like a blur of bad nightmares, one after another. I'm trying to sort out the jumble of images and memories, trying to decipher which ones are mine and which ones are Saki's. At one point, I think I did something pretty nasty to Muraki…no wait, that wasn't me. I guess I'm still mixed up in my head.

"Hisoka, you're awake!" Tsuzuki says loudly, inadvertently waking everyone up. I wince from the empathic backlash. That much surprise in one room is really, really annoying. He hands me a glass of cold water, and I gulp it down.

"Of course." I say irritably, my voice weak and scratchy.

"Hisoka…" Tsuzuki's eyes look hurt.

"Sorry, Tsuzuki. Noisy," I say apologetically. I'm trying to limit my words because my throat feels like crap. I need more water, so I hold out the cup up again. He refills it from a pitcher and I drink it down.

"Are you all right?" His hand feels hot against mine. Sheepish embarrassment and gratitude. I give it a squeeze.

"Yeah," I say, my voice rasping. "Feels good." I chance a smile.

He reaches over and hugs me, tight.

For a moment, I'm sort of surprised because I didn't feel that coming…but then, my arms go around him, his warmth against me. He feels so nice.

I don't want to ever let him go.

"Thank you." I whisper into his ear. He sobs gently against my shoulder, but they're tears of happiness. He's grateful I'm alive and I'm grateful that he's here. I hold him tight, protecting him as he protects me. There's no need for words.

Tsuzuki feels so good. So right. The events of the night before seem to disappear when I'm in his arms. It's like being bathed with warm, clean water after being dragged through the muck and mire of bad memories. There's so much I want to tell him about what I saw, but even as I think about it it's like a dream, fading as I melt into him.

"Wah, Hisoka! You're all right!" Wakaba comes bounding over, dragging a flustered Terazuma behind her. I look up. He's blushing furiously and radiating enough embarrassment to turn up the temperature around us by ten degrees.

I manage a smile, and give Tsuzuki a little squeeze before letting him go. "Yeah, Back in one piece, mostly."

Even though our embrace has ended for now, our fingers are still entwined.

|Muraki|

I wake up with a start at the sound of Tsuzuki-san's voice, managing to knock my head against someone else's.

"Tatsumi-san." I start, realizing who I had been leaning against in my sleep.

"You." He does as well, looking momentarily shocked before covering it with that veil of professional disinterest.

We give each other a good long glare. I settle into straightening my coat and adjusting my glasses. Unintentionally, he's doing the exact same thing.

I give him a dark look. He returns it.

The others are gathered around Tsuzuki and the boy, cheerfully chatting with him now that he's conscious. I take advantage of the momentary distraction to move towards Saki's bedside.

I sit down in a vacated chair, merely a foot away from Saki. The bed's been raised so that he can sit; he's conscious but groggy, patched up from his misadventures. We watch each other for a minute or two silently.

I study his face, the first time I've been able to get a good look at his adult self. He's very different from the Saki he was those many years ago. He's taller now and broader; the man that the boy has become has kept some of the same traits but has changed overall. He's no longer smiling nearly as much, that empty cold smile of his is forever gone. There are some fine lines on his face that show that he's aging, the beginnings of wrinkles that indicate a man who frowns more than he smiles, lines that over time are revealing his character. I'm reminded of how he's just a little older than me. In the light, I notice a few gray hairs mixed in with the black.

I'm curious. I'd like to know what possessed me not to kill him after all this time. Strange, in that moment when I looked away, it somehow didn't hurt as much as it did a year ago. It wasn't the culmination of years of planning, of invested effort and calculated destruction, of murder and torment and promises of death by the light of the blood red moon. I was mad - oh yes, the hate didn't fade when I decided not to kill him, and still hasn't - but something's different. Oddly, it's now just a surprisingly mild disappointment that I can't end his life.

It almost feels as though my life was something that happened to someone else.

Of course, Tatsumi is watching over us this entire time, but there are no rules against talking.

"You can't just hold still and die, can you, Saki?" I cross my legs at the knee, watching him with a calculated physician's eye. He's lost a large amount of blood and is as weak as a kitten. I could easily hold the pillow over his face until he dies of asphyxiation. I amuse myself with these thoughts as he watches me.

"I'd say the same about you, Kazutaka. Aren't you supposed to be dead?" His voice is much deeper than I remember it.

" I am dead, Saki."

"Oh." He stares at me for a moment, as if he doesn't quite get it. "Really?"

I nod. "The funeral wasn't a sham." I brush back my hair to reveal my pale blue eye.

"Impressive prosthetic," Saki says. "Looks almost real." Obviously he's heard about my eye.

"It is real," I say. "The prosthetic was quite a bit more ungainly. But Saki, it's been almost twenty years. I'm certain there are other things you'd rather talk about than my health. Really, is that any way to greet your dear brother?" The banality of this conversation is shocking. Absolutely freakish. I suppose I had been expecting something a little more dramatic.

"I wasn't expecting much of a greeting after the attempted murders," Saki says wryly. "Watching you rant at that head in the jar was more than enough for me to know I wasn't welcome."

"You…watched?" I blink. I hadn't quite considered that.

"Of course. Satomi and I were hoping that you'd ask him to clone parts off of that mysterious Tsuzuki-san of yours. Instead, you went off on your mad schemes. I should have known that you wouldn't have taken the direct route - that would be too logical."

"Really, Saki, you should have known better." I'm getting irritated with him. "I've always preferred a hands-on approach for important matters and I know surgery far better than cloning. Besides, Satomi's experiments were less than successful."

"That's what he wanted you to think. You were always very narrow-minded, Kazutaka." He shifts position, wincing in pain. "Short-sighted and too full of yourself. It figures that you wouldn't have changed that much in all these years."

"I think I'm quite a bit different than when we were children, Saki." I glare at him. "For one, you can no longer beat me."

"True, but then again, I'm not the one who's dead," he points out.

"Saki…" The word comes out as a growl. I can't believe how easy it is for him to rouse me to anger. I can nearly feel the magic crackling beneath my fingertips.

"Muraki-san…" Tatsumi's voice cuts in. "Perhaps it's best to leave Shidou-san to heal," he says firmly, directing me away from Saki.

Saki yawns at me as if bored. I'd lash out at him, but Tatsumi is already dragging me away. Damn the man's efficiency. By the time I can think of something to say in response to Saki, he's already ushered me out of the infirmary and into the hallway.

Then I realize something. I shrug off his grip and straighten my coat.

"Tatsumi-san."

"Yes?"

"I believe that's the first time you've called me by name."

"Is it?" Tatsumi pushes his spectacles up on his nose with one hand. "And the point of that is…?"

"Never mind," I reply. I adjust my glasses as well. "It was merely an observation."

His blue eyes are cool. "I see." He looks at me thoughtfully for a moment before switching gears. I can nearly hear the click in his mind as it resets to pure business. "It's almost noon. I believe we should take your friends home," Tatsumi says.

I nod in agreement. "It's about that time."

The two of us walk to Terazuma's house. It's a very lovely day in Meifu.

|Terazuma|

"Hey Kannuki, we better get home. Still got some houseguests to take care of." Terazuma looks at his watch. It's noon. "Better let Kurosaki get some rest."

"All right!" Wakaba gives Hisoka a spontaneous hug that makes his eyes widen from surprise. Terazuma grins as she fusses over the younger Shinigami.

"Take care of yourself, kid."

They take their leave of the infirmary and begin to walk home.

It's a beautiful day outside.

Terazuma's feeling kind of nervous. There's been something on his mind, something that he's thought of doing but hasn't ever tried. Something kind of crazy.

"Uh…Kannuki…" he says, once they're out of the department, walking down the sakura-lined avenue. He looks around to make sure no one's watching. They're alone.

"Yes?" Wakaba turns to him.

Terazuma steels himself. He's a little pink around the edges.

"I…uh.." He sets his face as if going into battle, walks up to her, and without further ado lifts her in his arms, cradling her in his grasp. She's a little heavier than he imagined, but not a burden at all.

"Ha-Hajime-ch-chan!" Wakaba turns bright red. She looks absolutely shocked.

Terazuma's not much better. "So…uh…I remembered…that…er…you wanted to…to be taken home this way andIthoughtyoulookedkindoftired so…er…" He's blushing madly.

"Ha~ji~me-cha~an" Wakaba sighs, her voice turned sweet. It's that voice that drips honey and portends evil.

"W-what?! D-don't do anything weird! I-I might drop you if you…gaaah!" She flings her arms around his neck. He can smell her - she smells sweet, like that shampoo she uses, but it's different up close. It's different when it's not a waft of lingering fragrance in the air.

Up close she smells very…good.

Terazuma can feel his cheeks burn. And it's nothing like KokuShunGei's fire.

He inhales, a deep sigh, trying to get his thoughts together. Left foot forward, Hajime. Right foot after. "Why…why don't we go home then...."

And he carries her back home just like that.

|Oriya|

Over the last few hours, he's watched Sakaki do the dishes and they've had tea. Twice. It's not that the waiting makes him anxious; it's mostly the unnatural feel of Meifu, with the added physical irritation of not being able to change out of his sleep clothes.

In the daylight Sakaki looks a lot more rumpled - even though his clothes are fairly clean given his recent adventures, he could still use a shave and fresh clothing. Oriya finds it amusing how Sakaki's hair sticks up in the morning. His own is surprisingly well-behaved given its length.

They've been discussing their respective run-ins with Saki while they wait.

However, by the time the clock strikes noon, Oriya has this growing suspicion that if someone doesn't return to take them back to Chijou soon, he'll soon be tempted to drape himself on the secretary so that he doesn't have to feel this near-to-overwhelming spiritual sensation of deadness so acutely. Already, Sakaki is beginning to unconsciously pick up on the shift in Oriya's temperament and is growing nervous.

Fortunately, that's about the time Tatsumi and Muraki return.

"Tatsumi-san, I disagree - I don't see why…" Even as they come in the door, the two are fighting.

Oriya stands up from his seat at the dining room table, pushing the chair back hard enough to nearly knock it over. "Muraki. Kokakurou. Now." Oriya's at about the edge of his endurance - it's been almost twelve hours of being in Meifu and his nerves are shot.

"Oh, then could someone take me back home to To-" Sakaki starts. Oriya cuts him off too.

"You can come to Kokakurou with me, Sakaki-kun. As long as we leave right now."

"Aren't you at all curious as to what happened, Oriya?" Muraki's teasing him. Oriya grits his teeth. Even in death Muraki is still a troublemaker. Oriya feels a certain amount of sympathy for the Shinigami staff.

"Tell me when we get home. To my home," Oriya specifies.

Muraki gives Tatsumi a little shrug, as if to say that there's not much more he can do. Tatsumi nods. "Let's go then."

A few minutes later, and they're in Kokakurou. Oriya breathes a deep sigh of relief as the real world coalesces around him. It's his courtyard garden. Oriya thinks that the world has never felt quite so alive as it does now, the plants giving off that pleasant aura of living things. Only the Shinigami stand out, like two blank spots in the world around them. He and Sakaki walk to his office, leaving their shoes on the raised porch. Above, the wind gently rattles a wind chime shaped like a fish. Muraki stands in the garden, looking around, Tatsumi by his side.

Oriya feels tense muscles relaxing as he returns home.

The evidence of the previous night seems to have disappeared - the Shinigami are thorough, Oriya thinks, when it involves supernatural evidence. He can feel the traces of lingering magic - it must have been a spell of some sort, perhaps ofuda-based. Oriya is about to say something about this when a gray shadow darts by his hand.

It's the cat.

"Ah, Asato-neko." Muraki kneels down on the stone paving. He makes a little pursed noise with his lips, like little kisses. The cat comes sauntering over to Muraki. Oriya notices that Tatsumi's eye is twitching.

"She's being spoiled rotten by the staff," Oriya says. "Since they can't feed you sea bream, they're giving it to her."

"I see my popularity remains unhindered by my death," Muraki says dryly. Asato-neko is sniffing at Muraki's fingers.

"I still can't believe you named your cat Asato." Tatsumi sounds very irritated.

"Oh, but she does remind me of someone I know," Muraki says as the cat arches under his caress. He rubs her chin; she purrs in contentment.

Tatsumi twitches. Oriya suppresses a smile - he now does feel very sorry for the Shinigami.

"I highly doubt /that/ person would appreciate it," Tatsumi replies. He kneels down to pet the cat as well - Asato-neko takes a swipe at his hand that leaves Muraki chuckling.

"That person has met Asato-neko. Once. But I don't think he saw her." Muraki says, letting his hands stroke through the sleek gray fur.

"Oh? Care to tell me about it?" Tatsumi asks, straightening up. The little line of red on his hand fades nearly instantly.

"I was following Tsuzuki-san. It was raining, as I recall. He passed an alley, and just as I crossed it, this little one ran into my legs. We both had ourselves a little scare. After that, I had to put off my adventures for the day." Muraki picks up the cat, disregarding the wisps of cat hair that are sticking to his clothes, and rubs his cheek against its head. "She was just a tiny thing then." Asato-neko purrs.

Tatsumi opens his mouth as if to say something, but then decides against it. "I see. I hope that you are done communing with your pet so that we may return…"

"Won't you join us for lunch, Tatsumi-san?" Oriya suggests. Tatsumi's expression suggests that he'd rather go back to Meifu, but then Oriya adds, "I insist, for taking us under your protection, if nothing else."

A little war goes on inside of Tatsumi's head. Oriya can see it in his expressive blue eyes.

"It's on the house." Oriya adds.

"Well…just this time," Tatsumi relents, adjusting his glasses. "I suppose you deserve to know what will happen to Shidou-san."

Oriya masks a smile. Free lunch, he notes, is an excellent bargaining chip. He will definitely make sure to remember this.

He leads them into his office, calling for the servants while the fall of the sakura petals tangle with the autumn leaves as they drop from the trees.

|Tatsumi|

Later that afternoon, Tatsumi returns to the infirmary to check up on Saki. It will take a few more days for Saki to recover completely, but they'll send him home to Chijou as soon as possible, which most likely means the next morning. He's picked up a few new scars, a little faded spot of white where Tatsumi's shadow had gone through his wrist, and a fading pink-white slash along his chest where Oriya had sliced him.

Watari had earlier decided that the best solution would be a transfusion of a small amount of Tsuzuki's blood to replace the blood Saki had lost - they're of the same blood type and certain elements of Tsuzuki's blood would patch that genetic weakness that Saki created.

Saki is awake and alert. Tatsumi's sent the others away to debrief him. Earlier, Hisoka was moved to the far side of the room, closer to the window where he and Tsuzuki are now sitting, watching the sakura trees quietly together. Watari suggested that he stay the rest of the afternoon for observation, just in case.

It almost leaves Tatsumi with a twinge of pain, but to see the happiness on Tsuzuki's face, the hurt subsides quickly, replaced by a wistful fondness. Then again, there is business.

That always comes first.

Tatsumi's surprised at how genial the brother is, but friendliness has never blinded him to the fact that Saki has caused a lot of expensive trouble.

"To start, you're currently forbidden from going within fifty meters of either Sakaki-san or Mibu-san. It's up to them whether they want to press charges in the civil courts of Chijou, but we will be watching you closely."

Saki nods slowly. He winces a little - he's still healing.

"I highly recommend that you return to America, Shidou-san. I can't control your brother's actions all the hours of the day, but he is currently prohibited from visiting foreign countries without special dispensation while he's under our jurisdiction. For your own safety, you should leave this country."

Saki is about to interrupt, but Tatsumi shakes his head. Intelligently, he keeps his mouth shut. Tatsumi idly thinks that the brothers should learn from each other when it comes to shutting up.

"In addition, the Peace Division is currently torching your labs and erasing all your data." At that, Saki's eyes bulge, but Tatsumi continues, a raised hand signaling that Saki should keep his peace for now. Saki manages to stay quiet. "We leave no evidence, so the insurance money should be enough for you to buy yourself a state-of-the-art facility in the States. However, we highly recommend that you choose a different field of research and cease researching the immortal cell because if we find out that you're continuing that line of research, we will notify our counterparts in America and have them deal with you in whatever manner they see fit."

"That doesn't leave much room for what I want to do, does it?" Saki looks at Tatsumi, as if testing the waters.

"Not if you want to live." Tatsumi's gaze is level. "Your brother is dead, Shidou-san. Let it go."

"Let it go? You say that so easily."

"You sound just like him when you say that." But even then Saki is expressionless. "This isn't a suggestion, Shidou-san. It's an order. Leave it alone, or suffer the consequences."

"And what would those consequences be?"

Tatsumi shrugs. "Your choice. We have both cold and hot places of punishment. Swords of fire or ice. Nothing like your Christian hells, I assure you. We're purely administrative."

Saki looks very skeptical. "I don't believe in it."

"Belief is not necessary if it already exists. For example, you just lived through a minor possession and had someone's shadow put through your wrist. You may not believe in magic or spirits, Shidou-san, but it happened anyway. The scar on your arm bears evidence."

"This could have been from anything. Perhaps I was shot."

Tatsumi adjusts his glasses and spreads his hand out. Saki's shadow quivers, and he's lifted a few inches above his bed. "I hate parlor tricks, but I'll prove a point if I must."

Saki gapes.

"So now, Shidou-san. Tell me what you remember." Tatsumi lets the shadow settle, and Saki floats back down.

Saki's brown eyes flicker with unspoken emotion for a moment, before his expression grows calm.

"I don't remember anything," he says. "All I remember was my lab. After that, it's all a blur."

Tatsumi considers pressing it, but decides against it.

Saki's eyes are emotionless.

"Very well. I'll have Watari-san take you home in the morning."

"Thank you, Tatsumi-san."

"Of course." Tatsumi stands, and takes his leave, shutting the infirmary door behind him.

After this, he has one more thing to do for the day.

"Muraki-san?" Muraki is waiting in the hallway for him.

"Yes?"

"Please follow me." Tatsumi leads him down the hall to his old office. A week without his care and it's already starting to fall into chaos, entropy reigning in his once orderly world.

Tatsumi looks around the office. There are about seven or eight different places that Konoe would have thought to put it. He considers which one would be the least likely and starts there. He quickly pulls out an envelope from underneath a pile of interdepartmental message folders and grabs a little pamphlet from his old desk drawer that he slips into his coat pocket.

"Let's go." Tatsumi says. He doesn't bother looking at the contents of the envelope.

Muraki follows quietly.

They walk through Meifu. It's late afternoon and the sun is at that particular height in the sky that leaves beams of hazy golden light filtering through the trees. Tatsumi walks in the direction of home. He knows where they house new Shinigami; his house is further down along that street. To the south is Sato's house, and then several blocks over to the west is Terazuma and Wakaba's house.

Tatsumi stops at a particular intersection. There's a bland concrete block building, a fairly anonymous monster of a complex that's housed its share of Shinigamis. Most spend at least a few weeks to a few months here before earning enough money or merit to move up and out. Tsuzuki was here for nearly two years, Tatsumi recalls with a smile.

It's at this point Tatsumi opens the envelope and pulls out the key. Number nine. Tatsumi remembers living in that apartment himself when he first came here. It's a strange contrast, the thought of giving it up to Muraki's residence.

"Here's your key," Tatsumi says. "And your bank account booklet. The first two weeks were already paid in advance to you in cash when you officially began last week, but this is your official stipend, which you can withdraw from at the general accounting office. Please be advised that you'll have to watch your spending closely"

"Of course. The pay here is quite miserly," Muraki says.

Tatsumi agrees with him on this one. However, it's obvious to anyone who's in this job. "Ah, of course. This. I nearly forgot." Tatsumi pulls out the little pamphlet.

"Please use this as reference for per diem reimbursement rates," Tatsumi hands the colorful little pamphlet to Muraki. On the cover in bold letters are the words: 'A Child's Guide to Spending.'

Muraki raises an eyebrow, but takes the pamphlet. "I will be certain to study this closely, Tatsumi-san," he says dryly.

"Good. Then I'll see you tomorrow morning, Muraki-san."

Muraki nods. He turns to stare at the door as if wondering what to do, key in hand.

That's how Tatsumi leaves him.

|Muraki|

A key, a bank book, and a pamphlet. It's ridiculous.

I take the key and slip it into the lock. It unlocks with a turn of the knob.

The edge of the door is grimy, the white paint darkened over the years by the hands of previous Shinigami. The door sticks in the jamb a bit and it takes a good push to get it open. I'll have to file that down.

Inside, everything smells musty with disuse. I'll have to air it out. The floorboards squeak maniacally. I'll need nails, I think. And some rugs, perhaps, to cover up the odd stains. I'd wonder about what left the stains, but these days I think it's best not to worry.

Just move forward, Kazutaka. It's all right.

I turn on the light. It's a dull yellow-orange glow that buzzes abominably. I'll have to get a better light bulb.

The paint is peeling and chipped at the corners of the apartment. It's tiny, with a little kitchen. Fortunately there are appliances, a refrigerator and a stove, though they look to be nearly as old as Tsuzuki-san. Some compassionate soul has left a glass cup full of mismatched wooden matches and matchbooks to light the range.

How thoughtful.

There's one bedroom and a bath, everything old and worn but serviceable. All of it's surprisingly clean given that it doesn't seem to have been given anything more than a passing patch-up here and there where holes have been knocked into the walls by unseen forces, or the glass cracked from mysterious power surges.

I can only imagine.

I look around with a sigh. So dreary. It's worse than my student days.

It's strangely very, very empty, and not just because of the lack of furnishings. I open the wooden blinds; they creak and one breaks, but eventually I tease them open. The window's not going to open, not without a small pickaxe to chip away at the built-up paint on the mechanism. Sunlight streams in, leaving lines of light in horizontal bars across the warped floor.

I sit. There's nothing else to do, really.

The light moves slowly across the floor as the sun goes down. I remember I used to dream about this sort of silence, where I hear almost nothing but the faint drips of the sink. Ah, a wrench. I'll need a wrench, I think.

I used to dream about this sort of solitude. I think I had always thought I wanted it, running from my life. From my unobtrusive secretary to the friend who smiles and looks away…I've always been seeking this silence around me.

But when I have it now, it merely leaves me cold.

When I have it now…it's rather boring.

Oddly…it's a strange feeling…Silly. I'd laugh at myself if the neighbors wouldn't think that I was wholly mad.

I must admit that I miss Terazuma's house. The man's casual suspicion appears to have grown on me. And Wakaba, the fact that from the beginning, even knowing what she knew of my previous life, she has never been afraid.

Quite the contrary.

With that, I lie back down on the floorboards. It's dustier than I thought earlier, but I don't really care. It's been a long day. Perhaps I'll take a nap. There are those that say it's good to sleep on a hard surface. Oriya would tell me that it builds character. Or at least, that it is good for my back.

It's warm in here; the late afternoon sun heats this apartment up wonderfully. I assume that it means that once it's summer, it will be a stifling oven. I turn my head to the side.

A bent nail lies on the floor just past the fingertips of my left hand. I stretch my hand out and touch it. It wobbles against the wooden floor before coming to a stop.

Idle thoughts. No, not Saki. Don't think of him. Ukyou…no, not her either.

I just want to rest for a moment. Just for now.

I doze off to the thought of borrowing a hammer. Fix the floorboards. New glass for the window. A bed of some sort.

Some time later, I wake up with a start. It's full dark outside, but the light's on above my head. Something's amiss. I sit up, aching from the floor, but it fades quickly. Shinigami. Ah yes, that's right. A flood of memories, and I'm slumped against the floor again.

My breath hisses between my teeth. Is it always going to be this way, in that moment I wake up alone - that fear, that pain...that loss.

Tears tremble in my eyes for just a moment. Foolish, so foolish. I could have had him and…

And what? And possibly lose Ukyou?

Forever.

Let this madman wait for you forever. I whisper it to myself. I have to believe that you're still in there, Ukyou. I must believe this, because if the opposite is true, if there is nothing for you anymore than child-like wobbles while your nurse follows you around, then there really is nothing more left for me.

Then there really is no other reason for me not to continue, to move on into the true death from which there is no return.

Let that second chance go to someone else. I stare at my hand. It grasps absently, as if it could touch someone.

As if it could touch you.

If only I could give you my second chance, Ukyou. You deserve it more than I do. You should be the one that cannot be hurt anymore.

But even as I say that I know it's not true. I might be strong, and I might heal instantly. But the pain's never really left me. Sometimes it feels like it never will.

"Ukyou." I whisper it to the walls. "Tell me, what should I do?"

There is, of course, no answer. There hasn't been an answer for over a decade.

Merely silence and those beautiful dark eyes that watch me with the bland curiosity of a child looking at an insect. They stopped seeing me a long time ago.

I would be content to stay here like this. Lying on the floor with the bare light bulb overhead that buzzes and crackles with fizzling energy. Perhaps I'll become as Tsuzuki-san once was if I stay here long enough, not sleeping, not eating, not drinking; merely dreaming of a lost past that flutters just beyond the window.

But then, there's a knock on the door.

I sit up. That's quite odd.

Another knock. Tentative, as if uncertain of its purpose.

Then a few hard bangs. I blink.

I open the door.

It's the boy. Tsuzuki-san is with him, like a tall black shadow just behind his slim shoulders.

And he's got a chair.

"Hey." Stray strands of unruly wheat-blonde hair slip over his green eyes. His slender hands rest on the smooth dark wooden back. "Do you need a chair?"

The end. Epilogue to follow.

Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei belongs to Matsushita Yoko.

Author's notes and thanks: One more little chapter! It'll be an epilogue that will try to follow up with everyone and tie up a few last remaining questions. A great thanks to my prereaders: RubyD, DanceswithElvis, Cyrus Marriner (though he's been gone for the last few chapters), Aeanagwen, Jekka, and Rinoa. Thank you guys so very much for all your support and insight! Special thanks to Aeanagwen who does all that and more by also proofreading it and helping my chapters make sense. And an extra special thanks to RubyD who has followed this fic from the very beginning and introduced me to the Yami fandom. Though the help of all my prereaders have been invaluable in making this fic a reality, it is especially true for RubyD. Thank you all for being wonderful sources Yami trivia, for putting up with me for this long, for holding my hand through the rough patches, and for encouraging me to finish. I couldn't have done it without all of you. ^_^

Points to anyone who recognizes the name of Watari's Ofuda Cannon. ^_- If you're wondering why Terazuma can now touch Wakaba, it's because previously his control over his Shikigami was compromised by his guilt over the loss of his sister which unconsciously prevented him from being able to pursue any sort of relationship with any other girl. Now that he's dealt with it, the control comes naturally. Why doesn't he say so in the fic? Terazuma's not very much into this psychology mumbo-jumbo. Or so he says.

Tatsumi took his time having his team find Saki, mainly because they had already been pushed to the limits. He believes in making sure people rest and are at their peak or close to it when engaging in combat - he knows that fatigue can cause lapses of judgment and critical errors. The use of the shadow impaling to stop Saki from teleporting is an idea borrowed from Penny Paperbrain's "White Knight," which I recommend wholeheartedly.

Why does the apartment take so long to process if it belongs to EnmaCho? Part of it's because it's better to have the new Shinigami watched over by his or her mentor from the beginning, but mostly it's because of paperwork. These things are funneled through different layers of bureaucracy that slow things down. Plus, it takes time for the interdepartmental mail to go through. The reason that Tatsumi lives so close to the new Shinigami quarters is because many years ago, someone was asked to volunteer to live in a house close to the apartment block in case of emergencies with new Shinigamis that are unused to their powers. Since it also meant discounted rent, Tatsumi was the first to sign up. As new Shinigamis appear very infrequently and Tatsumi's shadow powers can easily stop nearly anyone from causing trouble, Tatsumi thinks of it as a bargain. ^_^

A little background on Muraki's finances: Muraki had a few years of living as a poor student, after his parents died. At the time, his grandfather's younger brother was holding his inheritance in trust until he turned 20. His school fees, books, and supplies were guaranteed and he was given a small allowance for food and housing. This was his relative's attempt at building character, feeling that Muraki was too sheltered as a child. Of course, that was the last living relative, who died peacefully of old age some years later. So he does know how to budget himself - but he also knows that it's important to spend where it counts. ^_-

I tried to tie things up thematically as well as close up some plot threads. Honestly, I don't think it came out as good as some of the previous chapters and it deviated a lot from my original idea, but as they say, there are always author-revised versions. ^_^

The original idea involved an Enma-centered mystery and multiple teams of Shinigami working together to try to solve it as Enma's actions precipitated a crisis in Meifu. I don't really have plans for continuing First Death (though I did think of a story idea, fear), but theoretically, there is a way of continuing it that segues into the Enma storyline. Aeanagwen suggested giving an alternate ending that shows the Enma side of things - I may or may not do it.

Unfortunately, I don't really want to spend more time in this world, and would rather move onto other projects. I think the last few chapters have suffered because of this; it has been extremely difficult writing since about chapter 7 or so. But just know that somewhere in the First Death world, they're still working, solving crimes, and having fun. Oh, and beating up on Muraki. Mustn't forget that.

I never thought I'd make it this far. But I thank all of you for following this story with me and being patient with me. I've made a lot of great friends through this and wouldn't trade it for the world. Thank you very much.

EAG

Notes for Omake and Side story: The side story was originally posted a few months ago on my website, so I included it on this version in case anyone missed it. Please feel free to skip to the bottom for this chapter's side story if you've already seen the omake, since nothing's changed. It's just a little fun romp in Kokakurou, some of it referring back to the chapter 2 omake.

Omake

A current owner.

A former secretary.

A jar of saké.

The Drinking Game

It took a while to get the knots right, but then, Oriya has a lot of experience.

"Thank you very much for your assistance, Mibu-san," Tatsumi bows his head gracefully as he sits across from Oriya, palms flat on the tatami mat floor.

"Not at all," Oriya says smoothly, his emptied long-stemmed kiseru pipe in one hand. The folds of his kimono spread around him like the petals of some exotic bloom, ever more strange for it being found in winter. It is indigo shot through with silver threads in a thick weave, ideal for winter if one stays indoors.

"Yet without your assistance, our work would be that much harder," Tatsumi says, as shadows pool before him. He dips his hands into the seething black mass, and pulls out a clay-sealed jar. "Please let me give you a gift, as a token of my esteem."

Oriya raises an eyebrow. "Saké?"

Tatsumi nods. "Only the finest. Do you recall the story of the famous brewer whose devotion was so strong that his ghost is said to be still brewing saké? Well, he lives down the street from me, in Meifu."

"Ah," Oriya says, a sound of anticipation and pleasant surprise. "Your gift will be greatly appreciated. Would you care to join me then? Saké is best with company."

"I would be honored," Tatsumi says as Oriya finds the cups and begins preparing to serve.

"…and this, I tell you, is why I could not stand him at first." Tatsumi's lips quirk in a little hint of a smile and he pours Oriya another round. "Terrible! He was wearing the suit I had ordered for myself. It was a custom job - specially ordered, and there he was, cool as a cucumber, and I was short the cost of the fabric, which I had bought for myself from a well-established fabric wholesaler - at discount, of course."

"He has a bad habit of taking the best," Oriya agrees, pouring for Tatsumi, who downs the saucer-like cup in one long gulp. "He was a terror when we were younger."

"Speaking of terrors, have you met Terazuma-san? Muraki may not fear God or man, but amazingly, Terazuma makes him pause. I've heard that Terazuma may or may not have tried to eat him in Shikigami form." Tatsumi leans back against the frame of the closed door. The jug's nearly gone - it was very good saké.

"I'm sure Muraki would have given him something to chew on," Oriya says with a wry smile. "At the very least, it would be indigestion."

"Ha! I can imagine it," Tatsumi says, flushed with drink as he stares at the floor, which seems a lot wobblier than it was before. "Oh, the saké is very good…I would have eaten something earlier if I had thought of it..."

Oriya moves to lie down on the tatami floor, reclining like an elegant panther as his silk sleeves spill around him. "That would have been far too sensible."

"Yes, but it's what I am. Sensible." Tatsumi smiles, quite genuinely finding this very amusing right now.

"You shouldn't be so sensible always. Be mad once in a while," Oriya suggests.

It seems like such a wicked thing to consider, Tatsumi thinks, as he savors the aromatic flavor of the saké in his mouth. Alcohol fumes from heating the drink still linger in the air.

Instead, Tatsumi asks, "Is Kokakurou specially heated, or is it the wine? It seems rather hot in here, and it's the middle of winter."

"It's heated," Oriya replies. "The guests would be terribly cold in the winter if that wasn't the case. The system's based on an ancient Roman style of heating through the floors - less obtrusive than vents. If you like, you may open the door."

Tatsumi pushes open the sliding paper door, and a sliver of cold air wafts its way into the room, deliciously icy with the breath of winter. Outside, snow veils the world from view, gracefully fat snowflakes flurrying down from the dark gray sky.

"Vents would definitely destroy the atmosphere," Tatsumi replies as he works at worrying off his coat. He frowns minutely and tugs; mind seemingly fogged up with incomprehension at the simplicity of the cut of fabric wrapped around him.

"Yes. And vents wouldn't allow you to do mad things such as open the door in the middle of winter just to watch the snow fall while staying warm. It would lose too much heat that way. Ah, here." Oriya shifts to half-sit up.

Suddenly, and much to Tatsumi's surprise, gentle but steady hands are helping him out of his coat, and, before long, he's lying down, using his neatly folded coat beneath his head as a pillow.

"Thank you, Mibu-san," Tatsumi says, feeling the floor pleasantly warm beneath him as the cold winter air sneaks into the room. It's utterly decadent, letting the winter's chill trickle in even as the heat is on. If it was Tatsumi's own place, he wouldn't allow such waste, but here he is, pleasantly drunk and enjoying it far too much for his own good. Be mad, a depraved little voice says inside of Tatsumi. You needn't be the sensible one in a place like this.

"Not at all," Oriya replies. "Mibu-san sounds far too like my father, Shinigami-san. Please call me Oriya."

"Oriya." Tatsumi tries the word out in his mouth. Surprisingly, it's as lovely to say as its owner is to watch. "Then please, none of this 'Shinigami-san.' Call me Tatsumi. Or Seiichirou, if you prefer." Tatsumi feels a little perverse thrill at the thought of being called by his given name by someone who is mostly a stranger still.

"Seiichirou?" Oriya says thoughtfully. "You know, his little secretary has the same name."

"A coincidence," Tatsumi replies. "I hadn't thought of it before."

"Tatsumi then?" Oriya says. "Two Seiichirous would be confusing."

"Mmm, that's fine." Tatsumi closes his eyes, feeling too lazy to open them. "Everyone calls me Tatsumi." Safe, once more, in routine. Tatsumi almost feels a little disappointed.

"Tatsumi."

There's a long pleasant stillness as the winter wind slips into the room with frozen fingers, playing along Tatsumi's hair while the heat of the floor keeps him comfortable. Relaxed, Tatsumi can feel the threads of shadow all around him, the quiver of the papers on the desk as they rustle minutely in the draft, the sturdy lengths beneath the ceiling beams and the brittle black lines left in each pane of the paneled door.

And then, there's Oriya, whose languid shadow slides almost sensuously along the floor as it draws…near?

Tatsumi nearly collides with Oriya as he moves to sit up, his eyes blinking open as a surprisingly soft pair of lips meets his in the beginnings of a chaste kiss. And like the swirl of drink in the tasting of wine (and with that flavor as well) Tatsumi's mouth parts just a little and the sweetness goes a bit deeper, smoother than anything he's had in a long time, and as intoxicating as all else.

And it's over. Tatsumi draws back, a little surprised, as Oriya's lips release him. All this time, he hadn't noticed, but Oriya's arm had been supporting him, a firm pressure against the back of his shoulders.

"Madness." Tatsumi's about to say more, but it's a question that he's already answered, the epiphany in his eyes giving them a particular unmatched hue of clarity.

Oriya smiles. "Now you understand." Before Tatsumi can think, his lips have found Tatsumi's again, and Tatsumi stiffens under the contact, aware now as to what's going on.

"Wait." Tatsumi pushes back and lifts a hand to his own lips, touching them as if burned. "What are you doing?"

"Think of it however you like." Oriya looks at him, amused, but with a hint of hunger in his eyes. "The perverse predations of a yet another madman. A thanks for the present that you brought me. Or more simply, think of it as a moment of private madness on a solitary winter's afternoon." Oriya pauses, and his arm tightens around Tatsumi's shoulder, pulling him closer. "You needn't be sensible here. Not with me."

Tatsumi blinks, astonished and overwhelmed at what he's being offered. He begins to try to disengage himself from that contact, to move away, just as his sense of formality takes hold, and he'll try to pretend that this isn't what it obviously is…

"Excuse me. I'm afraid, Oriya-san, that I may have…"

And again, the lips press to his, slowly devouring him as if he's being drawn into another person's dream, another person's private reality. Is it the madman's insensibility infecting him? Tatsumi can feel his muscles tense unwittingly, but sometime, somewhere after that, it seems that between the drink and the kiss and the slip of silk against his fingers that are clutching Oriya, he's relaxing into something strange and forbidden that he hadn't thought possible before.

"But…what about…" Tatsumi tries to get his breath back, to put himself in order, his hand moving up to straighten his now slightly fogged spectacles.

"Don't mind him. He's not watching, nor would he care. He has other things to deal with besides us. You deserve a moment's rest from that man," Oriya whispers into Tatsumi's ear, a tickling hot breath against his cool skin.

"A moment's - rest…" In another context, that wouldn't make so much sense, but right now, it seems the most reasonable thing to do. "What - do you want?"

"A few heated kisses in frost-bound winter twilight? I don't know," Oriya says with feigned ignorance, his voice sliding along Tatsumi's throat as his tongue tastes at Tatsumi's skin. "Perhaps I am waiting to hear your answer. What do you want, Seiichirou-san?"

"Me?" Tatsumi wonders when it was that he was last asked that question.

"Who else?" Oriya's lips almost, almost tickle the sensitive skin of Tatsumi's neck as he bears Tatsumi down to the hot floor, somehow feeling hotter for the slick chill of silk against his hands. A pair of hands (not his) worries at his tie, and a top button's undone, toyed with as casually and carelessly as the unknotting of a string that's tied for a promise around one's little finger.

Dark, the lustrous shadows of Oriya work their way closer toward him, bringing Tatsumi against the edge of something dangerous, the press of a blade of desire rising somewhere deep inside, and he has a sudden shock of reality, of the world of reason and reliability, of sense and sanity. He gently, carefully withdraws himself from Oriya's hands, in a conscientious manner that he hopes will not offend Oriya's sensibilities.

Oriya then, noticing Tatsumi's reluctance, draws back. The entire switch in tone has happened in a few seconds, the span between one breath and the other, and the situation is now firmly, Tatsumi feels, within control.

It's as if it never happened.

"Perhaps another time then," Oriya says softly, as he leans past Tatsumi to close the door, blocking the chill out.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Tatsumi says coolly, with little indication as to his feelings on the matter, as he gathers up his coat and unfurls it to slide himself back into his protective shell.

"You're quite welcome. Visit, if you like, in the future. 'Winter's long, and life's fleeting,'" Oriya says, quoting a piece of poetry that they both recognize.

"'Yet still, the sakura blooms,'" Tatsumi responds, filling the last part of the lines.

Oriya says nothing, and his eyes slide to the figure that they've been ignoring for the last while.

Tatsumi nods his head again in thanks. "I will be going now. Thank you for handling my partner."

"It's my pleasure," Oriya says, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"I never knew you could subdue him so efficiently," Tatsumi says, as he finally acknowledges Muraki's presence. Muraki is almost unrecognizable, completely out of his usual context, half-dressed and trussed with white cords into a highly awkward position, unconscious with his cheek flat against the tatami floor in a way that's bound to leave a mark later.

"It wouldn't have worked as well if you hadn't knocked him out with your shadows first. I don't think he saw it coming."

"Well, he has been very troublesome. How did Kurosaki-kun put it? 'Get your freak partner's hands off my partner before I call the Peace Division?'" Tatsumi quotes. "He asked for my assistance in setting up a situation in which he could peaceably teach Muraki a lesson in manners. It's good to know that I can come here for your assistance in such business."

"You realize he won't be able to walk out by himself," Oriya mentions. "Would you like help moving him?"

"No, I'll be quite all right," Tatsumi says. "But thank you for the offer."

"There is one thing that I must ask before you leave," Oriya says. "I've never seen rope this fine. What is it?"

"First grade silk rope corded through with women's hair from Kobayashi's Discount Kekkai Korner," Tatsumi says, pleased to be asked. "Fifty percent off sale last season, and at already reduced prices, I bought it for a quarter of its original price. I was saving it for a rainy day. Or in this case…a snowy one."

"Should I even ask what you require such ropes for? Smooth to the touch, strong enough to endure, but made especially to bind a Shinigami?" Oriya winks.

"I'm sure it's purely for business purposes." Tatsumi stands up and a shadow begins pooling underneath both himself and Muraki, verging on swallowing the two of them whole. "Thank you for your help. I'm sure Kurosaki-kun will appreciate that you wrapped the gift up for him."

"Good bye, Tatsumi-san. Please, once he's awake, ask Muraki if he remembers our college rope bondage club, and tell him to enjoy. And do let me know about this promised 'asskicking.' I'm curious to hear about the results."

"Will do. Ja."

And with that, they're gone.

"Don't think that I've forgiven you that easily, Muraki Kazutaka," Oriya says to himself as he busies with filling his kiseru pipe. "Because I'm no longer nineteen, and able to forgive you without the slightest hesitation. Really, choosing your brother over me. What were you thinking?" Oriya shakes his head as he lights the tobacco and takes a puff, letting fragrant smoke fill the air. "Although, now that I think about it, he did have such lovely broad hands…And the two of you together…"

Oriya toes the door open with his foot, and the coiled curve of the white smoke is momentarily caught in the breeze, before being stolen by the winter wind.

Side story

Ukyou

"She isn't feeling well today." The nurse is a sweet matronly type, wholly unimaginative, the kind that Tsuzuki could easily imagine baking cookies for her children. She's enchanted with him - they all are, really. Of course, Tsuzuki is used to this by now.

"It's all right. I'll just be here a moment." Tsuzuki's come on a pretext - first he lied to his partner about getting a slice of pie up in Chijou. Now he's lying about being sent by Muraki to check up on Ukyou.

For all he knew Muraki was dead. The curse might not have faded on Hisoka, but he had felt the knife slip in, scraping along a rib, the lifeblood gushing out…

It had taken him weeks to stop remembering the blood. Even now, he can almost feel the splatter of…no. He can't think like that. Tsuzuki shakes his head. Hisoka wouldn't like it.

Then again, he doesn't like it either, but it doesn't mean that he can easily dismiss the memories.

Finding Ukyou has been much easier than forgetting Muraki's blood.

He walks into the little house. It's pleasant and cozy; the walls are hung with cheerful paintings and pictures. There's a walled garden in the back.

He walks by the mantel and flinches as something catches his attention. It's a portrait framed in heavy silver. He picks it up.

He's never seen Muraki this young before. Muraki looks to be in his early twenties. He still has both of his eyes; he even has a different haircut, one that doesn't mask the right side of his face. He's sitting with Ukyou in his lap, a vibrant young woman with her arms around his shoulders and long dark hair. They're smiling at each other as if they're sharing a secret; their eyes focused upon each another, the camera forgotten.

It's love. They're in love. Tsuzuki swallows. He's never known that this side of Muraki existed. Now he never will. Pictures now are the only things that remain.

In the picture, their fingers are twined together. A promise.

Tsuzuki sets the picture back down as if he's touched fire.

Fire. And he left Muraki to burn.

Tears tremble in his eyes. He hated Muraki, but still, it was wrong to do it. It was wrong, he didn't deserve…

Tsuzuki shakes his head. No. Don't think like that. Just…keep going.

Keep walking forward.

She's out in the garden, in a recliner that's been moved there for the purpose. It's perhaps the last warm day in autumn; soon it will be too cold for this. But there's a blanket tucked around her to protect her from the elements.

Tsuzuki kneels down beside her.

"Ukyou-san?" His voice is soft. She doesn't hear him, staring blindly ahead as falling leaves swirl around her. She's beautiful, or would be if she weren't suffering so. Bruised flesh along the hollows of her eyes as if she's haunted by something that no one else can see, the face of insomnia, of restless sleeplessness. Her expression is pinched with a lingering fear that does not fade. Tsuzuki wants to take that unseen pain away from her, and chase away the shadows for her so that she doesn't have to suffer so.

But perhaps it's better this way. Better that she doesn't know that the man she is promised to marry is dead by his hands. If there was a future for her beyond these walls, he's destroyed it. Tsuzuki's stomach knots with guilt.

"It's me. Tsuzuki Asato." He's gentle, yet she doesn't hear him. She's elsewhere, somewhere far away.

Tsuzuki recognizes that look. Once, in a lucid moment, he had seen himself like that, staring blankly into a mirror.

The glass was broken in the end, and he had used it to rip a gash in his right wrist. He had smiled when the blood flowed.

In the end it all returns to blood, doesn't it?

Tsuzuki touches her hand. It's cold. He clasps it in his own. "Ukyou-san?"

Nothing. But for her breathing, she could be dead, a doll that has no life of its own. Her dark eyes, they don't see him or anyone else anymore.

Tsuzuki stands up. It has been a mistake to come here.

He resolves to set this incident away from his mind. As far as he's concerned, this never happened.

As the nurse comes into the garden to offer this charming young man of the doctor's some cookies and a drink, he's already gone, disappeared like a wisp of smoke in the autumn air. She makes sure that Ukyou's tucked in comfortably and goes back inside to clean, clucking to herself about the hastiness of youth, never mind that Tsuzuki would have had to scale a ten foot wall to leave without her noticing.

After she's gone, Ukyou blinks, a momentary lapse of consciousness. She moves her hand just a little where the Shinigami had touched her. She looks at the fingers curiously as they close, as if to clasp another's hand.

"Muraki?" It's a whisper, drowned in the rasp of leaves that crackle against the pavement as a strong gust brushes them aside.

No one notices this. And soon, Ukyou doesn't either.