Well, I wrote this story last year for some contest that never ended up happening. It's AU and, unlike most (all) of what I write, it actually has a plot. It is also finished. It should be seven parts long. Barring an unfortunate computer accident, I'll be updating this once a week.

Asato Tsuzuki picked up the folder that had been carelessly dumped on his desk. Another child reduced to so much paperwork for ease of classification and disposal. Another intrusion on his waning time. He sighed. He knew he wouldn't feel that way by the time he was halfway through the file. Within the file was another human being whom society had failed to protect. A child he could only hope would allow him to try to help in some way, not that he could do much himself. He glanced through the file, skimming the most pertinent information from the text.

Name: Hisoka Kurosaki. Age: 15 years. Mother: Valerie Harper. Father: Nagare Kurosaki. Parents unmarried. Apparently, Kurosaki had brought his mistress and son to Japan with him when Hisoka was 5 and they had remained there until Hisoka was 14. At which point Hisoka returned to the States to be locked in a closet for a year, his only visitors being his mother to provide food and the demonologist/pervert Dr. Kazutaka Muraki.

Locked in a closet for a year?

The mother had arranged for the doctor's visits in the hopes that he would drive out the demon she believed had possessed her son. The only demon possessing Hisoka had been the good doctor himself.

Disgusting. Freak of nature. Perversion. Freak.

He snapped the folder shut before reading anymore. His mouth had dried out, all the way down through the back of his throat. A void grew in the pit of his stomach. He checked his watch. The digital display flickered 12:15. As good a time as any for lunch.

"Asato," The voice of his supervisor always held the most flirtatious tone possible. He suppressed a shudder and tried to convince himself the man wasn't doing it on purpose. "You've got a visitor."

He turned around just barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping. Eyes. Bright green eyes, almost bright enough to distract from his purple ones. But the eyes were not the only captivating aspect of the teenager. Short, slender, with effeminate features, he looked like another person from another life. It was a purely physical resemblance; the boy's defiant, masculine stance firmly separated him from the memory. He smiled at the boy. Though he hadn't looked at the picture in the file, there was only one person he could be.

"Hey, Hisoka. Have you eaten lunch yet? Why don't we go together?"

Need.

The force of the imposed feeling nearly knocked Hisoka over. It was too much. On top of having to stand with the creepy man with leering eyes and a dirty mind inadvertently subjecting him to ridiculously perverse imagery, he was bombarded with this great lack of... something.

"Asato" Lust dripped off the voice, forcing Hisoka to focus his attention elsewhere. Of course the Need drew his attention. The presence of the absence was in the man being called. His caseworker. "You've got a visitor."

The man of the void turned and Hisoka felt.

Need.

Recognition. Surprise.

Need.

Dismay. Sorrow. Guilt.

Need.

It took enormous effort for Hisoka to maintain his composure. He glared into the eyes of them man smiling at him. They disturbed him. Not because they were a vibrant shade of purple that shouldn't belong to any mere human. He barely noted their beauty. They were wrong because they betrayed no hint of the Need. The eyes of a person usually revealed something, but the purple orbs sparkled with friendliness.

"Hey, Hisoka. Have you eaten lunch yet? Why don't we go together?"

They were eyes meant only for deception.

"So, tell me about yourself." The hostile silence in the car forced him to prompt a conversation. It was odd that the silence should seem hostile. Beside him the boy sat, staring absently out the side window, lacking any visible anger.

"Doesn't the state provide you with information?" The words were challenging. A not so subtle attack from a teenager desperate to maintain the distance of apathy. He smiled, filing away thoughts of pity to wait until the boy wasn't around. Pity was the worst way to deal with teenagers.

"They put so many words in those files; I could hardly read one before lunch." The whiny tone startled the boy from his settled position. He turned to stare, confirming the fact that it was in fact an adult driving the car, not a four-year old. "Besides, they never tell any of the important stuff."

"Important stuff?" The boy sounded almost curious.

"You know, what type of music you like. What books you like to read. If you even like to read at all. Where you'd like to have lunch. Things like that."

"Oh." The boy resumed staring out the window. "Don't care."

The remainder of the ride passed in silence, not quite companionable, but no longer exactly hostile either.

Hisoka had no idea what to make of Tsuzuki. He had to call him Tsuzuki, of course. Honorifics such as "san" or even the American "Mister" didn't fit and even though invited to, he could not bring himself to call the man "Asato." That sort of familiarity implied a closeness that Hisoka wasn't comfortable with. So it had to be just Tsuzuki. Though even having a name to call him did not help Hisoka make sense of the man.

Hisoka had spent the car ride trying to read Tsuzuki's emotions.

Need.

The Need was the most powerful thing Tsuzuki felt. It overwhelmed, it over flowed. Yet it did not appear on the surface. Watching the man gave no indication that he was in desperate need, with the exception of a slight twitch of his right hand when the waitress had set down there drink orders. Hisoka had felt the Need spike, then recede as Tsuzuki drank the beer. So he was an alcoholic, it still didn't explain everything.

"Should you be drinking at lunch?"

"I won't tell if you don't."

Tsuzuki had winked at him! Hisoka had blushed, flustered at being invited to join in his conspiracy. The Need hadn't been sated during lunch, but Hisoka couldn't tell if it was because the Need was for more than alcohol or if Tsuzuki just hadn't drunk enough.

Guilt. Hate. Grief. Pain.

Logically, Hisoka had expected those emotions, but they still surprised him. Watching him eat, the boy could only marvel at how little of these feelings Tsuzuki showed. And then, there was something else. An odd combination of emotions Hisoka couldn't quite put a name to. If pressed, he might have called it maternal instinct. The desire to protect.

Such a mature, adult emotion occurring with equal strength as a childish eagerness to please.

"Who are you?" Hisoka blurted, interrupting some inane comment. Embarrassed at his rudeness, he blushed again. "I...I mean, you were given background on me, I should know something about you."

Confusion, realization, understanding.

"Well," Tsuzuki frown and tapped his fingers against his lip as he tried to think of a response. "I'm twenty-six years old. My favorite food is either apple pie or cinnamon rolls, I've never been able to pick. I live alone. I have no pets, but I have several plants with names and personalities. I did my junior year of college in Tokyo. My-"

"You lived in Japan? Do you speak Japanese?" Tsuzuki grinned at him and he found himself blushing again.

"It was necessary."

"Then could... can we speak it? I...I.... " Hisoka could feel the flush on his cheeks deepening. Damnit! He wasn't being rude, why was he embarrassed?

"Not a problem. I like hearing it, too." Tsuzuki switched languages and winked again. Hisoka was certain that every drop of blood in his veins had moved into his cheeks. "Just don't be too mean if I screw up on grammar. It's been a few years."

"Your accent isn't too bad." He managed to sound grudging, but it didn't deter Tsuzuki's reaction.

Elation.

"San kyu, Hisoka!"

He could almost see a tail wagging.

"Ne, Hisoka, won't you tell me about you now?" Hisoka didn't react to the question. "Not everything. Just one thing you don't mind sharing. Please?"

Concern. Interest.

"I like carrots."

Disappointment. Amusement. Admiration.

Admiration?

"I'm an empath." Hisoka sighed. He braced himself against the fear, the rejection, the partial withdrawal of emotions behind untested shields. It didn't happen.

The pain, grief, hate, guilt, and, to a certain extent, the Need were pulled back, leaving the feelings Hisoka would have expected of a man with Tsuzuki's eyes. Confused, Hisoka tried to reach for the vanished emotions and smacked into the strongest shield he'd ever encountered. The shock jarred his mind out of sync with the rest of him. His walls faltered. Feelings poured in, unchecked, pushing him towards blackness.

"Hisoka! Hisoka! Are you alright?" Tsuzuki grabbed his arm. Defenses rose to shove the contact away. Still slightly dazed, Hisoka could at least claim he was himself again.

"I'm fine." Angry with himself, he directed his glare at Tsuzuki. "You made my shields shift, that's all."

Even through both of their defenses, Hisoka could feel the concern radiating from the man. The worry. The fear. The fear was different. It wasn't a fear of him; it was a fear for him. Hisoka couldn't recall feeling that from another person before.

"You really are an empath, then? Not that I thought you were lying, but..." Tsuzuki shrugged, trying to find the right words. "It's like something on the Sci-Fi channel, ne? Reading people thoughts."

"Their emotions. I'm not a telepath." Hisoka almost smiled. Tsuzuki was such an accepting person, he could probably tell him more. He looked into Tsuzuki's eyes and any thought of a smile vanished. Tsuzuki was a deceiver. And deceivers are betrayers.

But nobody could deceive Hisoka.

Tsuzuki continued talking, but the conversation was over.