Not My Idea
Mikata
Yami no Matsuei
#2 in "Garbage on Random"
I bit my tongue and stood in line
Hisoka crawled out of the basement window, his belly scraping against the metal window frame and threads catching and pulling out of place. It didn't really matter to him at the moment; he could worry about the maids or his parents finding out later. Right now, the sweet spring air and the moon were calling to him, a siren song of freedom. His fingers clawed at the fresh dirt, trying to gain purchase to pull himself free. His clothing was only a minor concern. He could always sneak into the laundry room and clean it later. The pulled threads could always be explained away by hard rough walls and torment in prison. Tonight, he was going to bask in the glow of the sakura-pink moon
He scrambled to his feet, sinking into the soft earth. The spring wind blew around his thin frame, tugging at his yukata and ruffling his hair. It was tugging him forward eagerly, welcoming him outside. Rather than be difficult and struggle against it, he gave in to the playful tugging of the wind, and the warm kiss of the night air, and went further out into the yard.
He spared a quick glance back at the house proper, to see if his escape had been noticed. The lights were out in his parent's room. His mother had retired early lately, not feeling well, and he could barely understand the knowing, tense feelings from above the ceiling. The servants too, seemed to have turned in for the night. The facade was dark, simply bathing in the sakura pink moon.
Hisoka turned back towards the moon, eager for a moment of freedom, and headed towards the sakura tree that he could only obliquely see out of the small windows of his prison.
With not much to believe in
The wind tugged at the petals of the Sakura blossoms, pulling the weaker ones off of the branch to weep upon the ground.
They rained upon two figures wrapped in a tender embrace. Unashamed of his voyeurism, he stood there, and watched.
The smaller figure swooned into the arms of the larger one. A flash of silver, a spurt of dark blood. Hisoka couldn't move. The smaller form slid from apart from the larger one, and crumpled upon the floor like an old coat. The larger figure, cloaked in white and the sakura moon, straightened to a formidable height. Hisoka was sure that it was an Oni, a fairytale ogre ready to come and gobble up boys like him...
Hisoka still could not move.
I bought into what I was sold
The Oni turned to him, a flash of silver at his eye. The Oni, face shadowed by the dark and framed by hair blond like silver, smiled at him. Hisoka could feel the dark pleasure of a new chase rolling off in dark turbulent waves. Hisoka didn't want to be sucked into the undertow of his feelings, left to drown in the hunger and desire that he could sometimes feel upstairs, in the house proper, during the nights spent alone in the cell.
Hisoka ran.
And ended up with nothing
And then suddenly, the Oni was upon his back, sucking him into a deep embrace. Hisoka jerked his foot back, only to miss in his panic. He was rewarded for his error by being violently slammed to the ground, crushed and mashed under the heavy Oni above him. Hungry teeth were at his neck, tearing at his wildly beating pulse. He could feel it from the Oni, he was going to die. It wanted his life, to possess him in a way that no one else could, like a treasure.
This is not my idea of a good time
This is not my idea of a good time
The oni's fangs raked across his flesh, tearing at his delicate skin. The Oni kissed him, teeth bloodying his lips as they were crushed against his own. He felt the spring breeze brush across his freshly bared skin, before the Oni crushed him deep into the grass. Burning fingers scraped his tender belly flesh, traveling lower, promise of unknown and terrifying sensations to come. The moonlight over the oni's shoulder was blinding to him, and he shut his eyes, and clouded his mind, simply letting the Oni do as he wished, and praying that if death were to come to him, that it would come to him quickly.
This is not my idea of a good time
The moonlight flickered across his eyes as Hisoka came back to himself. His body shivered. He could feel freezing lines upon his skin, cold fingers tracing patterns he could not discern. He opened his eyes to the blinding pink moonlight. The Oni lurked in the corner of his vision, eyes gleaming like jewels.
"Look at yourself," his voice cut through the fog of Hisoka's mind.
Red, angry lines criss-crossed his body, patterns he could not read logically but feel.
"You look stunning in this light."
Hands cupped his face. The oni's smooth features were captured in the light, like sanded stone. White hairs fluttered across a cheek.
"You will sleep once more."
And Hisoka did, falling into a slumber deeper than any before it.
You thought that I would never see
Hisoka lay helpless in the hospital bed, barely breathing. He watched detachedly as his father stood grim-faced at the doctor standing beside him. Hope, fear and love came from him in short, staticky waves. Hisoka wasn't aware that he father could feel love for him. He was almost touched. It was still too late to mean much.
What was meant for you was meant for me
He tried to sit, tried to do something to prove that he wasn't helpless, that he wasn't weak, but strength seemed to leak from his body and spill far away from him.
The doctor, having noticed out of the corner of his eye, came over. Hisoka had trouble focusing on his face. A voice pressed warm breath comfortingly at his ear, though the words sent a chill down his numbed spine.
"You are not in control now. Give up."
Hisoka body relaxed in spite of the desire to do the opposite. He was too tired to argue with anyone, the doctor, his father, or his own body.
He was only dimly aware when a cool hand wiped away strands of hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks.
"I'm all you have left now..."
Hisoka desperately tried to remember who the doctor was. Something twinged in the back of his mind, screaming for recognition. Certainly he was a specialist. A cardiologist from Tokyo. Hisoka could not divine a greater connection than that.
The voices of his father and the doctor faded as they left the room, door sliding shut on a silent pneumatic hinge. Hisoka sorely ached for their company again. He didn't want to be alone. He was afraid. Try as he could to reach out to worlds and perceptions outside his own, he only fumbled across emptiness.
He didn't want to just disappear. He was afraid to die and go away and be burned into ashes and buried in the dirt and be nothing more than a stone marker and an unpleasant memory to the few people who knew him.
I was distracted at the time
The nights in the ward were peaceful. Things had settled down considerably since lights out, but Hisoka did not want to close his eyes. He was convinced that if he closed his eyes one more time, he would never open them again. The sleep he would endure would last forever, and he would know nothing else.
But his lack of sleep was wearing on him. The corners of his world were blackening in a manner he could not attribute to nighttime passing over his small room. The moon was bright and gleaming. His last visitor.
As Hisoka drifted off for one final rest, he wondered to himself why the moon had not been sakura-pink...
Forget about yours now what about mine
Hisoka wanted so desperately to cry. As horrible as life was in the prison cell, he knew that he wanted to survive it. He didn't want to die at sixteen. What was left? Shame crossed his mind for a brief second before he pushed it back again. How could he be thinking about his failure as a filial son now? Did it matter if he couldn't produce the 18th generation of Kurosakis? He wouldn't graduate High school.
But he was dead. That chicken told him so.
The chicken gave an approximation of a smile and handed him a cup of Oolong tea.
"I know it's hard to take... but you'll have to come with me. EnmaDaiOh-sama shall-"
"Hold on there a moment, Gushoshin," The old man he had met from before placed a hand on the chicken's back, "I would like him to take some test..."
He turned to look at Hisoka, and smiled. His whole body held nothing but compassion, "come with me, Kurosaki-kun. I have some questions I'd like you to answer..."
This is not my idea of a good time
Hisoka took back everything nice he had thought about Konoe-kacho on that first night, sitting across from his partner.
Eternally youthful Tsuzuki. Resident space-taker in Shokanka.
"Me, elite?"
Gushoshin laughed heartily at (at least to Hisoka, it seemed as such) both their expenses. Hisoka stormed off to the bar. He sat down, not caring that the patron on his left felt concerned and angry. Anger. Hisoka chose to settle on that, as he ordered from the bartender. It had been easy enough to fake an ID; Tatsumi-san had given him one for the mission so he could rent a hotel room for himself and Tsuzuki...
Hisoka chose to remain angry as he downed his first drink, a pint of Asahi beer from Sapporo, the first alcoholic beverage he had ever experienced, and ordered another, and then another, until again, he could feel the room blacken in the corners, and his head seemed like an impossible weight. Hisoka didn't care about death this time. Death had to be better than being made a fool... better than... better than...
Hisoka felt strong arms wrap around his chest under his armpits and hoist him up, but was far more concerned trying to come up with what could be worse than death. His eyes finally fluttered shut as he felt an arm scoop under his legs, and was asleep before his body left the bar.
This is not my idea of a good time
Maybe he had been wrong about Tsuzuki.
They stood together, side by side leaning over the crowds at Maria's final concert. Tsuzuki's magic worked flawlessly. Even under the hot lights, Maria was glorious and alive, a slight bead of sweat forming at her temple, soaking into her hennaed hair.
Perhaps he had been wrong about Tsuzuki in his initial assessment... and his judgments after that night. Tsuzuki had always seemed so nice, and he was very likely genuinely so. Hisoka had deep misgivings about the sorrow that seemed to infect his soul from the center, but... he couldn't do anything for him. Tsuzuki hadn't asked to be saved, and Hisoka did not exactly want to be anyone's savior himself.
The moon nudged at the back of his mind. It was Sakura-pink. It was awash with a thin veneer of blood. Hisoka shivered slightly, trying to push the unpleasant feeling from his mind, as well as the feeling of cold, hungry eyes at his back, and walked to view the harbor behind them. He stood against the railing for a long moment, as lust and satisfaction creeped towards the edges of his consciousness, pressing deeper inside his head.
This is not my idea of a good time
Hisoka awoke, feeling very, very cold. As he opened his eyes to the clear moonlight, his eyes stung as though salt had been cast into them. Gritting his teeth, he struggled to open his eyes through the pain.
There was a voice cutting through the fog of his pain. It was clear and sharp, without hint of compassion. Inside his aching head, he felt contempt, amusement, and lust, swirling around like viscous sludge.
"How does it feel to have your wings clipped, boy?"
The voice sparked something within Hisoka's memory, but grasping on real recognition was like grasping at the viscous sludge poisoning his mind: it only left foul remnants behind.
"...what do you plan on doing with me?"
His voice was soft and weak, barely heard in his own ears. His voice was lost in the sound of sharp footfalls echoing upwards to a ceiling high above Hisoka's line of sight.
The speaker stepped into the light from a wide, massive window. Hisoka thought numbly to himself that perhaps he should be more curious about his surroundings, but it seemed that rational thought was eluding him. His head felt heavy, and his body very, very tired.
"That wire is made from a woman's bewitched hair. It will slice you to pieces if you struggle."
Hisoka found his voice again, with more strength that before.
"What are you planning on doing to me?"
His captor stood within the light of the moon, whited out and bleached. He was for all the world, a ghost, less substantial than himself.
The ghostly man glided towards him, eyes gleaming hungrily. Carefully, he drew something from a pocket. It was hard for Hisoka to make out what it was, black and ungainly as it was. As his eyes focused through the worst of the blood, he was deafened by something roaring past his ear and though whatever was holding him up from behind. His stomach dropped sickeningly as his focused on his own gun, being pointed at his face.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was still numb, still thinking logically,
This must be Muraki... the man who's controlling Maria...
Muraki stepped forward, until he was almost touching him, his chest nearly against his face. Hisoka turned his head and closed his eyes, wising he was very small as he felt heat and moisture lashing at his blood-slicked fingers.
This is not my idea
Hisoka remembered everything with horrid, vivid detail. He felt sharp clawed hands at his skin. The pungent smell of earth and cut grass filled his nose as he was forced down to the ground. The moon watched over him and shadowed the planes of the Oni- Muraki's body, chiseled and hard and pressed against his own, and crushing him into the earth, pressing the breath from his lungs. His body burned, remembering the suffering, the shame, the terror of the weight pressed heavily and clumsily between his legs, spreading them wide and hooking them over broad shoulders.
He writhed against the bed, the bewitched hair slicing deeper into his neck and adding fuel to his memory as Muraki, face hidden by the moon bit at the wild-hammering pulse at his neck as though his desire was to still it, to tear it out and savage it with his teeth.
His skin burned, and he wailed piteously, ashamed even as he did so.
"Don't worry little rabbit. You are only my bait for far bigger game. I shall harm you no more."
Hisoka gritted his teeth, feeling the sort of smugness that one could only feel from lying.
"You are bait, for Tsuzuki!"
You thought I was a little girl
"Tsuzuki... this was a trap!"
Hisoka felt his arms flop uselessly over Tsuzuki's shoulders. He scanned the darkness; unable to see Muraki, or feel his darkness licking at his heart, Hisoka let himself fall into Tsuzuki's warm, reassuring grip.
You thought I was a little mouse
"Even knowing that, I would never leave you like that."
Tsuzuki seemed to be telling the truth. Hisoka stared agape like a dead fish, unbelieving that anyone, let alone Tsuzuki, would return for him.
"Such friendship. It sickens me."
Hisoka turned wary eyes towards the other, dark side of the hall. Muraki had returned, his face momentarily shadowed.
You thought you'd take me by surprise
Tsuzuki was dying in his arms. Hisoka could just feel it.
"Why do you want him? He's just a lazy, good-for-nothing Shinigami!"
He was desperate to do anything he could to protect Tsuzuki. His body was ready to give out, and words were failing him. He looked down briefly at Tsuzuki, head slumped against his chest, black blood pooling out from around the edges of his trench coat.
Hisoka felt, rather than heard, Tsuzuki's voice in his head. As Tsuzuki crawled up from the ground, blood filling his footprints like rainwater, Hisoka followed his instructions, and concentrated on burning fires and cleansing light. He closed his eyes for a long moment, as Tsuzuki hung on his back and outstretched arm, he could feel the wet heat of his wounded body and the fiery heat of Tsuzuki's damaged and determined soul. He kept concentrating, following the words that ran through his mind until hot evanescent light danced on his eyelids and Muraki began to cackle wildly in his ears.
Now I'm here burning down your house
"Tsuzuki-san! I desire you now more so than ever!"
And with a flash of Suzaku's holy fire, he was gone.
Hisoka stood for a moment longer, until the flames at the tail of Suzaku's magnificent body had burned out and reduced themselves to nothing but more specks of dust and ashes floating from the ruined roof.
He collapsed forwards, pitching Tsuzuki on top of him for a moment. He lay on the floor, crushed under the weight of his partner. They lay there for a sort moment, before Tsuzuki stood shakily, his body pitching back and forth as though wind-buffeted.
"C'mon, 'soka. Maria 'n Gushoshin are waiting for us."
He pulled Hisoka off of the floor like a rag doll, slinging a limp arm around his shoulder. Hisoka tightened his grip, and almost smiled, but he was too tired.
Together, they staggered from the smoking ruins, and Hisoka had never felt closer to another person.
This is not my idea of a good time
Hisoka stood in the rain, hating and loving the feel. It was nice to be able to feel on his own, though. Tsuzuki was off somewhere, hopefully buying Castella cake for Konoe. Hopefully not back at the office, trying to get re-assigned.
This is not my idea of a good time
"You're not moving on?"
Tsuzuki looked at him in honest surprise. It made Hisoka feel happy, all on his own.
"I think I'll stick around for a little while longer," Hisoka didn't want to seem too eager still, and turned away with the grace of a cat.
"Well, you're a no-good teenage know-it-all who won't follow orders..." Tsuzuki looked very serious, "but I think that I will be your partner for as long as you need me. I'll always be there for you, Hisoka."
Hisoka thought that he could never be happier.
This is not my idea of a good time
"You're corny," Hisoka struggled to regain his composure, settling on sarcasm.
"So I'm corny," Tsuzuki stared out at the street behind them with a goofy smile on his face.
"You forgot the Castella cake, didn't you?"
There was a pause, and Hisoka turned to watch the horror spread across his partner's face.
"Oh no! It's too late to get some now! Konoe-kacho'll eat me instead!" Tsuzuki pushed off of the railing, his coat fluttering behind him.
"No he won't. You probably won't taste as good as Castella cake."
"Hey! I'm sure he'd just love to eat me!"
Hisoka smiled, enjoying the laughter at his partner's expense, "you're an idiot."
Hisoka looked back out at the harbor quickly. Maybe this wasn't what he had wanted... but it was a lot better than what he had before.
"Let's just go..."
This is not my idea…