Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Yami no Kenzoku ❯ Chapter Sixteen ( Chapter 16 )

Notes: . . . you know, I have no idea what season it is. I assume cold, because thus far I have had the characters wear jackets, but I think that was done unconsciously. I was thinking about it and remembered that, currently, it's a year after what happened in Kyoto. It had to have been winter then, because we all recall the infamous scene where Tsuzuki runs out of the bar into the snow and Hisoka hugs him. 'cause it was all 'aw-ish' and all . . . ^.^

Anyway, that in mind . . . made it winter, because it seemed appropriate.

Also, slow work on this chapter . . . it was just . . . no idea. Simply very hard to do this one for some reason. No real excuse but that.

Randomly, Kagankokushungei is a damn long name for a shikigami -- the name of the one Terazuma can transform into -- and impossible to memorize. -.-;; Thank goodness I can just call it Kuro thanks to Watari's cute little Kuro-chan nickname for him.

Yami no Kenzoku

Chapter Fifteen

Watari and Wakaba had taken immediate actions to seeing that Kaiki was properly taken care of when Tsuzuki and Terazuma returned with the bloodied boy. Feeling that they would be in the way, the latter two shinigami retreated to the room Tsuzuki and Watari were sharing. Neither seemed to have anything to say, too wound up in their own thoughts to even attempt small talk, or casual flinging of insults.

Terazuma had been a detective during his lifetime, and while he had never been a very good one, he could not shake the feeling that something was amiss about the way they had found Kai. While in most instances, giving what he had seen and what Kai had told Tsuzuki, he would have been able to piece something together, in this case there seemed to be /too much/ evidence. The more evidence the more complex something became, and the more difficult to come up with a valid, logical solution.

The police would have come along and cleaned up the body by now, he supposed, giving him no chance to examine it further even if he had wanted to. From what he had seen at the scene, however, she had been cut multiple times with a knife, and when that had not worked, the murderer had panicked. It was the second scream that would have been her scream of death - when she was being slashed to death and had made a last plea for help. The murderer had panicked then and shot her to silence her.

It was too messy. Terazuma couldn't look beyond that fact. He did not know Muraki personally, much less seen what crimes he left in his wake, but from what he had heard, the man seemed to be absolutely meticulous about his murders. Muraki would have never taken a chance that could have allowed the woman to scream a second time; he would have done it quickly and efficiently.

Unfortunately, Muraki was their only suspect. He was the only one that knew how the women a year before had been murdered, how their hair had been cut . . . and Kai had said himself that it was Muraki that had murdered her.

So /why/ was something missing?

"Dammit." Terazuma cursed below his breath. "I don't get it."

Tsuzuki did not seem to have heard him, something Terazuma was thankful for. He did not want to begin to explain his doubts when everyone else was simply so relieved that Kai was all right. Muraki would come later.

Watari and Wakaba returned shortly from Terazuma's room, where Kai would be staying for the evening. Tsuzuki looked up at them immediately.

"Is he okay?"

"He was really tired," Wakaba said. She plopped down beside Terazuma, and for once, he didn't complain about her close proximity.

Watari settled down in a chair across from Tsuzuki. "We didn't want to ask him about what had happened so soon, so we'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out what's wrong."

Tsuzuki nodded. "I figured."

Terazuma kept his mouth shut and shared his suspicions with no one the entire evening.

It was hard to believe so many terrible things had happened here, Tsuzuki reflected as he walked through the former capital of Japan. Almost as hard as it was to believe that it had been a year since that time, and unwillingly, he was being forced to relive those memories on the day of their anniversary.

Kaiki was sleeping well into the morning. Watari and Wakaba had stayed with him, to be there when he did wake up. Terazuma had gruffly told all of them that morning that he had some personal business of his own to take care of, and no amount of nettling on Wakaba's part could get him to reveal his intentions. Tsuzuki, never having been one that was very patient, had decided to take a walk through the city, for lack of anything better to do.

It was difficult to not be depressed now that he was here. He did a good job of presenting a smile for his friends, when on the inside he was frowning, and he did an even better job of keeping up the careless, nonchalant way he had about him. Inside his emotions were whirling through his head. He was anxious and nervous and troubled all in one. He was confused. He felt hopeless. And being in Kyoto was not making him feel much better.

Not that, when he thought about it, there was anything that /could/ make him feel better. He had to come to terms with what had happened in Kyoto a year ago on his own, whether he liked it or not.

Still . . . he wondered if the reason Muraki had led them here was because there was something they had forgotten while in the city . . . something they had glossed over; something that was going to come back to bite them.

Sighing, hands in pockets, amethyst eyes downcast, Tsuzuki hoped that it was nothing like that. He wasn't sure if he would be able to live through a repeat of the Kyoto incident.

"Hey."

Startled, Tsuzuki turned toward the voice. He was in spirit form, no one could see him . . .

Hisoka stood there, hands in pockets, looking at him with an even gaze.

"Going to get your fortune read?" He gestured vaguely to the fortune shop Tsuzuki had ended up at. Only then did Tsuzuki recognize it as the same one that Hisoka had found him that morning a year ago, after he had spent that night with Muraki . . .

"Hisoka," he breathed, surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Tatsumi sent me," Hisoka replied nonchalantly. He was not about to admit that he had fully intended to demand that Tatsumi allow him to go. "Said I could be of some help."

Tsuzuki nodded after a brief moment of surprise. "Yeah, I guess that's true. Uhm . . . are you . . . okay now?"

"No, I'm not, that's why I'm standing here," Hisoka replied with a roll of his eyes, but there was barely a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Tsuzuki smiled.

"It's nice to have the old Hisoka back."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Snappy and withdrawn and mean . . . I missed it so much!"

Hisoka blinked furiously as Tsuzuki suddenly sprouted puppy ears, complete with an excitedly wagging tail, and latched onto him. After a moment of struggling to pry him off, he gave up with a sigh and allowed his shoulders to slump dejectedly.

". . .you're such an idiot, Tsuzuki."

Tsuzuki pulled away from him, a bright smile on his face. "I know."

Hisoka looked at him for a moment, then rolled his eyes and pushed him gently away.

"I thought we should go talk to that guy Oriya," he said.

Tsuzuki blinked. Oriya was the man that was a close, personal friend to Muraki, and often aided him in whatever recent scheme Muraki had on his hands, albeit a bit reluctantly. They should have thought to go speak to him sooner. Doubtful he would be forthcoming with information on where Muraki was or what he was doing, but it was better than sitting around and doing nothing at all.

"Okay," Tsuzuki said slowly. He nodded. "Yeah, I think I remember where that is. We can go."

That decided, the two shinigami started off, walking side to by side. Hisoka was glad to be back in the working routine with Tsuzuki. When they were working, there were less things for him to worry about. He had only the assignment to consider, unlike the trivial adolescent thoughts that bothered him constantly when he was not working. Things like what he and Tsuzuki were to each other, what he would do if he did not have Tsuzuki . . . those things.

Ko Kaku Rou, a brothel that disguised itself as a restaurant, was in a densely populated area of Kyoto, secluded from the excitement of the city and surrounded by the tranquility of the shrines. It would be closed this time of morning, both shinigami knew, but its owner would still be there. He lived there, after all.

They did not bother with the main entrance, and instead went around to the back, into the small garden that brought back sudden, abrupt images to Hisoka. It was here that he had challenged Oriya. He had lost that duel, he knew. In some way he had lost, and in the end, it was only out of pity that Oriya had given him the access cards.

"Hisoka?"

He blinked, clearing the memory from his vision, and slowly focusing on Tsuzuki. "Hm?"

"You went far and away again," Tsuzuki said. "You do that a lot."

"Oh." Hisoka paused, taking a moment to consider what that meant, then shrugged. "The last time I was here, I was fighting Oriya. I was thinking about that."

"Ah," Tsuzuki said, nodding.

He did not know exactly what had happened that night -- even the images of what happened to /him/ were hazy at best -- but he knew that Hisoka had fought for him. Hisoka had saved him a year ago, never giving up on him, no matter what the situation. He did not think Hisoka knew how grateful he was for that, or even if he could express in words what it meant to him.

"The polite thing to do," interjected a new voice, "would have been to call and make an appointment rather than showing up unexpectedly. 'ch. People these days."

Tsuzuki and Hisoka whirled. Dressed in his colorful garments, long hair unbound and following over his shoulders, Oriya stood before an open screen door on the porch, smoking a long pipe and regarding them evenly. He did not seem to be at all perplexed by their appearance. No, he rather seemed to have been expecting it.

His eyes shifted to Hisoka and the side of his mouth quirked slightly. "Hello, bouya," he greeted. "Glad to see you're still alive. There are few opponents quite like you in the world anymore."

He paused, gaze leaving Hisoka to regard Tsuzuki for a moment. There was an expression in his eyes that neither shinigami could identify. Hisoka thought he saw a brief glimmer of something, something like contempt . . . but then as abruptly as it was there, it was gone just as abruptly.

"So what do you shinigami want?" Oriya asked. He smiled slightly. "Certainly not a girl for the evening."

Tsuzuki coughed several times into his hand. Hisoka rolled his eyes.

"You must know about the murders that have been happening here in Kyoto," he said. "The victims were all women, and all of them had their hair cut off. Reminds you of someone else's style, doesn't it?"

Oriya looked at him evenly, unfazed. He blew out a tendril of smoke thoughtfully. "A little," he said at length. "Natural for you to immediately assume it's Muraki, isn't it?"

"Who else would do it?" Tsuzuki interjected.

"How should I know?" Oriya said. "I hardly have the mind of a mass murderer."

"No, but you do hang out with one a lot," Hisoka said.

Oriya said nothing. The way he skittered around the subject made Hisoka wonder if he did know something, and was simply unwilling to share the information with them. That was fine. They had other means of extracting what they wanted from people. Not necessarily means he wanted to fall back on, but if it was necessary to solve the case, he would.

Oriya abruptly turned and went inside. Hisoka started to call after him, but Tsuzuki placed a hand on his shoulder, silencing him. Oriya returned seconds later, carrying two sheathed katanas. He kept one and tossed the other to Hisoka.

"If you win, I'll tell you what I know," he said. He shrugged. "If you truly want to know. My knowledge may prove to be disappointing."

Tsuzuki looked at Hisoka. "You don't have to. He may not know anything at all."

Hisoka was silent a moment, then shook his head. "I have to at least try," he replied, and he took a step forward to join Oriya in the center of the garden.

Tsuzuki stood silently as Oriya and Hisoka faced one another, neither making a move to be the one to begin the match. Oriya always allowed his opponent the first strike, and Hisoka had learned from his previous duel with the man, that it was his way of judging his opponent's abilities and finding a weakness in them. Tsuzuki thought for a moment that they would do nothing but stare one another down the entire morning, until finally, Oriya made a move.

He attacked high and Hisoka defended low. Oriya did not stop there. He kept on the offensive, continually advancing on Hisoka, and hardly allowing the shinigami a chance to retaliate, only to defend. Hisoka was backed up at the opposite end of the garden before he saw an opening and took it; Oriya had to leap back quickly to avoid being struck.

"You have gotten better," he said, but it did not sound like a compliment, so much as it did a simple fact. Hisoka did not allow it to distract him.

Tsuzuki had never understood swordplay, and it seemed to him that all that was happening was the rapid flashing of swords, so quick that he could hardly make out which was which, or define who had the upper hand. Unconsciously, he had gripped his hands into fists at his sides. He did not want Hisoka to get hurt. He had only just recovered from two broken legs, and here he was, straining himself for something they didn't even know would be useful to them. Tsuzuki would blame himself if anything happened to him.

Suddenly Hisoka made a sound of pain. It happened too quick for Tsuzuki to know exactly what had happened, but one moment Hisoka had been defending, and now he stood clutching his wounded shoulder. Blood seeped out from between his fingers.

"Hisoka!"

"It's all right," Hisoka said, but his voice was strained. "It's not deep." He waited a moment, then pulled his hand away. The wound had already begun to heal. Tsuzuki sighed.

Oriya advanced on him. Hisoka defended, using only one hand for the time being. Once the wound had completely healed over and all that remained was a dull throb to remind him it had once been there, he gripped the katana with both hands and fought back more aggressively. Having not expected it, Oriya was taken off guard by the sudden assault, but the relaxed expression on his face did not change. To him, this was nothing to overly concern himself with. It was just morning exercise.

"You're more determined than before," Oriya said, raising his katana to deflect a blow. "What do you fight for that is so important this time?"

Hisoka narrowed his eyes, reared back, and rushed forward blindly. Oriya met the onslaught without concern and shoved him away. Hisoka nearly fell, but managed to catch his balance just barely. His hands went to his knees, one clutching the katana hilt tightly. His breathing was coming out shallow and hurried.

To defeat Muraki . . .

He launched forward, katana held high over his head. Oriya side stepped him and brought his blade back around, its blunt side catching Hisoka on his lower back. He stumbled and fell to the ground.

"Hisoka! You don't have to do this!"

My friends . . .

Straining against the pain, he forced himself to stand.

Tsuzuki.

Oriya did not have the chance to defend. It happened too quickly. One moment the boy was prone on the ground, and then, abruptly, he was standing, katana clutched tightly in both hands. He started forward, his steps faltering and slow, and Oriya had thought for a moment that the duel was his. That was his mistake. It was at that moment the blade connected, blunt end, but with enough force behind it to drive the air from his lungs and to knock him flat on the ground.

He closed his eyes.

"Not bad."

Hisoka tossed the katana aside. "If you knew what you were fighting for, you would have won."

Oriya's eyes snapped open. Then, expression softening, he closed them again and smiled.

"You're right."

He slowly stood up, rubbing his bruised chest, more theatrically than because he thought it might lessen the throb of pain. Seeing that neither intended to make another move, Tsuzuki hurried over to Hisoka and clapped both hands on his shoulders.

"Are you okay?"

Hisoka looked up at him and, slowly, began to smile. "I'm fine," he said. He brought up a hand and placed it over Tsuzuki's on his shoulder. "You worry too much."

He turned to face Oriya, hand falling away from Tsuzuki's, but the older shinigami kept a hand on his shoulder. He did not mind. It was almost comforting to him, to know that Tsuzuki was there, and had been with him this time, unlike before. Tsuzuki did not know it, and Hisoka doubted he would ever understand, but that time, and this time, Tsuzuki had been the only thing driving him. He would have given up if he hadn't had the thought of Tsuzuki in his mind to drive him forward.

Oriya had taken a seat on the porch, had his long pipe in hand, and was smoking it thoughtfully. He gestured them forward.

"You won, bouya," he said. "What would you like to know?"

Hisoka glanced at Tsuzuki. The older shinigami took a step forward.

"Did Muraki ever work with a man named Sakano in Tokyo?"

"Sakano?" Oriya was quiet a moment, contemplative. At length, he shrugged. "There are many people named Sakano in Tokyo."

"He runs a practice not far from where Muraki had his," Tsuzuki said. He wondered if Oriya was being vague because he did not want to be outright with what they wanted to know, or because he honestly needed more information.

"I think I remember him mentioning a man named Sakano," Oriya said finally, slowly. "Awhile ago."

"Did they work together?" Tsuzuki asked.

Oriya shrugged. "Maybe." At the look of frustration the answer brought to Tsuzuki's face, he inclined his head slightly, looking at the shinigami as though he should have expected nothing more. "Muraki has connections to hundreds of people -- you expect me to remember all of them?"

"When did you last see Muraki?" Hisoka interjected.

"Last night." Oriya paused. "He had a wound that needed tending. Of course, he came to me . . ." He shook his head. "Doctors never go to doctors. They don't trust them."

Tsuzuki was silent a moment. Kaiki had said that he had seen Muraki the night before, and there had been a struggle between the two of them. Muraki had been attempting to kill that woman. Tsuzuki recalled that she had a knife clutched in her hand when he and Terazuma had discovered she and Kai. The knife had been covered in blood. She must have been able to wound Muraki, before Kai came, or maybe in the struggle . . .

Or something. It was too hard to piece together now, not because it was a matter of not having enough evidence, because it was a matter of having /too much/. And that seemed too messy . . .

"What about Kai?" Tsuzuki asked. "Muraki kidnapped him in Kamakura, but when he found him, he must have escaped or something . . ."

"Oh, that gold-haired boy," Oriya said. "Mm. Who knows."

"You have no idea?" Hisoka asked.

Oriya shook his head.

"Where did Muraki go after he left here?" Tsuzuki questioned.

"His own home, I'd imagine."

Hisoka did not think that Oriya was keeping anything from them. Though he was Muraki's friend, and unwilling to put him in danger, he was an honorable person. He would not have challenge Hisoka if he had not intended to follow through with his promise. It just seemed that Oriya knew as little, or even less, than they did. They were getting no where fast.

Finally, Tsuzuki asked, "Why is Muraki killing these people? What does he have to gain?"

Oriya looked at him, eyes hard and cool. "Who's to say Muraki is the one killing them?"

Tsuzuki did not respond immediately, and looked for a moment as though he had not even considered that an option. They had all been so insistent that Muraki was the one responsible for the murders, the only one that knew what had happened a year ago and would have been able to mimic it so well, they had not even considered that it might have been someone else.

But it seemed impossible. Who else could it be?

"He is not the only one that knows what happened here a year ago, or about those murders," Oriya said. "You know, the boy knows, your fellow shinigami know. Not only that, it was all over the newspapers."

"You're telling us that it's some copycat," Hisoka said. "Some crazy person that just randomly decided to repeat those murders from a year ago."

Oriya shrugged. "I'm saying keep your options open. Otherwise . . . you just set yourself up for failure."

Hands thrust into the pockets of her winter coat, Wakaba stepped outside of the hotel they were staying in and into the crisp air. She had spent the entire morning with Watari and Kaiki, the latter whom had yet to have woken up since Tsuzuki and Terazuma had brought him in the night before. The environment had become so suffocating that she had apologized to Watari and said that she needed a breath of fresh air, but he had not minded. He promised to stay with Kai, to be there when he did finally wake up.

Tsuzuki and Terazuma had left earlier that morning, and neither had yet to return. Wakaba was beginning to worry about them. Tsuzuki often did these like this, disappearing for hours at a time, mostly because he had discovered some dessert shop and was indulging himself in sweets. Terazuma did not. He never left without reason, but this morning he had, without giving them any idea of where he was going.

Something was bothering him, that much Wakaba could tell. The problem was, she had no idea what it was, and did not expect him to be forthcoming with information. Terazuma never went out of his way to share himself with others. He had been burned too many times in the past to leave himself open to new wounds.

Sighing, her breath coming out chilled on the air, she started down the sidewalk. She supposed she would take a walk around the block, then join Watari upstairs again. She didn't want to leave him all alone.

In hardly any time at all, she had circled around the block and was standing before the hotel again. She glanced up. Watari would forgive her if she was away for a bit longer, she supposed, and she doubted that Tsuzuki or Terazuma had returned in the short time it took her to circle the block. And if they had, she would pick up lunch on her way back, and all would be forgiven.

She turned to the left rather than the right at the end of the street, walking across a street crossing and into a less urbanized area of the city. Dozens of shrines lined the cobblestone streets. It was a very peaceful atmosphere. It almost made her miss the days she had been alive, just another ordinary girl growing up in Kyoto, going to school, worrying about boys . . . not like now.

She stopped, abruptly. She had not noticed until now how empty the air was. Not a sound was carried on it, not even the slightest hint that there was life around her. Wakaba unconsciously took a step backward and looked around. She was the only one on the street. Other than the sound of her own breathing, and the tap of her shoes against the cobblestone, there was nothing.

Something . . . was very wrong, she thought. This wasn't normal at all.

Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be back at the hotel with Watari, and Terazuma and Tsuzuki.

Wakaba turned to go, and that was when an arm wrapped around her from behind, pinning her arms to her side, and a soft, gentle voice said in her ear, "Don't struggle if you want to live."

She screamed.

Terazuma was walking back to the hotel, newspaper under one arm, a styrofoam cup of coffee held in the opposite hand, and a cigarette between his lips. He had told Watari and Wakaba that he would not be gone for more than an hour, and inevitably, that hour had multiplied by three. He simply had a lot on his mind, and the last place to have conductive thoughts, was trapped in a hotel room with Watari and Kannuki.

He took a sip of coffee. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to get back to the hotel, and to take a nice, long nap. He had been up practically the entire night, trying to find the missing piece to this case, but he had come up with nothing . . .

A scream tore through the air and reverberated in his ears, a less than enjoyable side-effect from having been conjoined with a shikigami.

He paused, waited a beat, and it came again. This time, he recognized who the voice belonged to.

"Kannuki."

He dropped the coffee and newspaper and took off running in the direction it had come from, shoving his way through people, and stopping traffic dead in place when he ran across the traffic-filled street. The sound had come from the shrines, somewhere around there, somewhere around where he and Tsuzuki had found Kai, he thought blindly. It brought back images of that dead woman to his mind.

If that happened to Kannuki . . .

He closed his eyes briefly, tightly, and forced himself to run faster. He had to reach her. There was no way, no way in hell, that he would let her die.

He slammed into someone coming from the opposite direction. Cursing, he got to his feet, and was prepared to start running again, when two hands clapped down on his shoulders and stopped him.

"Terazuma? What's the rush?"

He blinked. "Sempai?"

Tsuzuki blinked right back at him, amethyst eyes wide with confusion. He glanced at Hisoka, who could only offer a shrug in response. Neither of them had ever seen Terazuma quite like this before.

Terazuma lifted his hands and clapped them down on either side of Tsuzuki's wrists. The older shinigami still had his hands on his shoulders.

"Kannuki," he said. "Did you hear that scream? It was Kannuki."

"We didn't hear anything," Hisoka offered.

Terazuma looked at him, for a moment looking startled to see him there, and then shook his head. "I heard it, she's--"

"We'll find her," Tsuzuki said. "Which way?"

Terazuma dropped his hands from Tsuzuki's wrists, shoved a hand through his hair, and looked around blindly. "How the hell should I know? I was following the sound, and then I crashed into you, and now there's nothing to go by and goddammit--"

A scream silenced him.

The three shinigami ran. Terazuma took the lead, following the sound, and Tsuzuki and Hisoka followed, barely managing to keep up with his long strides. They ran for what seemed to Hisoka to be a hopeless amount of time, with no further indicators of which way they should have gone, but Terazuma kept going. Hisoka and Tsuzuki followed, blindly trusting him to take them to Wakaba.

They came to a clearing and Terazuma stopped.

"Kannuki!"

Hisoka saw a flash of red, heard Terazuma shout something, Tsuzuki mutter something beneath his breath, and then there was chaos.

Terazuma had transformed and become Kagankokushungei, Tsuzuki had summoned forth Suzaku, and the two shikigami stood, staring down a inhumanly ferocious hydra. Wakaba was prone on the ground, and Hisoka could barely make out a dark figure standing behind the hydra, but he had three guesses as to who it was.

"Hisoka!" Tsuzuki, yelling above the roar of Kuro and the flames of Suzaku. "Take care of Wakaba!"

Hisoka had to bite his tongue to keep from giving in to the urge to demand if Tsuzuki was absolutely insane, wanting him to go out there between three pissed off shikigami, but concern for Wakaba kept him from doing so. Stepping beneath one of the extended wings of Suzaku and attempting to avoid her wings, he ran out between the shikigami, seized Wakaba, and gently pulled her from harm's way.

The shikigami advanced forward. Kuro tore immediately into the hydra, fighting blindly, all teeth and claws and a blur of motion. The hydra reared back, screamed, and tried in vain to retaliate. Suzaku advanced forward upon Tsuzuki's command and attack from the side with her deadly flames.

Hisoka checked Wakaba over quickly. He had thought, when he saw that flash of red, that it had been her blood. He was relieved to see that she was unharmed, and what he had seen was the crimson material of her winter scarf. She only had a few scratches and bruises, likely sustained when that person, the one controlling the hydra, had tossed her aside when Terazuma and Tsuzuki had appeared.

He shook her shoulders. "Wakaba? Are you okay?"

Her eyes slowly fluttered open. "Hisoka-kun?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "You okay?"

She did not respond. She did not have the chance to. There was a shriek of pain from the hydra, followed by an identical one from Kuro. The hydra vanished along with its master, and Kagankokushungei fell to the ground, its form fading and reverting to Terazuma when he struck. Tsuzuki called away Suzaku and hurried to Terazuma.

"Hajime!"

Wakaba stood up, and before Hisoka could stop her, had rushed out and fallen to her knees beside Tsuzuki. Hisoka slowly followed.

The hydra had cut a deep wound on Kuro, and being joined with his shikigami, it was felt the same by Terazuma. He had a hand over his chest, flattened against the long gash that ran from shoulder to stomach. His head was tilted back and his eyes were tightly shut.

"Hajime!" Wakaba said again, and she pressed her hands over the wound. Her touch did not turn him to Kagankokushungei this time.

Terazuma cracked an eye open. "What the hell?" His voice was strained through the pain. "Are you crying?"

She closed her eyes.

"Are you crying over /me/?" Terazuma laughed, but it caused pain to rack through his body, and he stopped abruptly. "'s okay," he said. "Hurts, but I'll heal okay."

Wakaba looked at Tsuzuki. He nodded, and forced a reassuring smile.

"We'll have Watari do what he can, but it should heal fine on its own," he said.

Wakaba nodded and smiled.

"See? 's fine." Terazuma closed his eyes. "So why didn't one of you idiots go after that guy? He's our murderer."

Hisoka rolled his eyes. "Concern for a friend. You know, non-important stuff like that."

"Hah," Terazuma said.

Wakaba removed her hands from the wound, wiped them clean on the grass, then removed her jacket and put it over him. Terazuma did not open his eyes until she took his hand in both of hers and held it tightly.

"You saved me," she said softly.

Terazuma blinked dumbfoundedly, then coughed and looked away. "I didn't do anything. And would stop with the mushy hand holding stuff? Kagankokushungei's gonna come out, you know."

He wouldn't. Terazuma had been able to control it for a long time now, but he was uncomfortable. It was the best excuse he had.

Wakaba smiled, gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and released him.

"Thank you, Hajime-chan."

He looked at her, saw the genuine gratitude in her eyes, and blushed.

". . . you're welcome."