Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own them!
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Air pushed out from the street vents in clogged streams of smog. Vapor mingled with the crowded swirling with the body heat the public produced. It sank into their pours as they shuffled through the torrid summer atmosphere. Suffocating, absolutely suffocating.
He stumbled down the walkways unnoticed. Uneven steps took him through alleyways and across hidden walkways. His thoughts were many and none, jumbled into a nest of troubles. The hope that had been breathed into him by his friends vanished on these nights when the moon loomed above with an orange haze. It made his pulse race, his amethyst eyes flicker back and forth from the glow-cast buildings to the orb. He dared it to turn its hue to the shade of blood and feared his reasoning why he'd create the challenge.
"Muraki…" The name slipped from his lips in an oily hiss.
"Muraki." He repeated as his own weight became too much. His shoulder collided with rough brick siding of a long abandoned factory. The rusty dust smeared itself on his black duster and tattooed his cheek as it rammed into it.
Even though the Doctor had been engulfed in Touda's embrace, he still clung to the shinigami's soul. The moon, his marker, mocked and mingled Tsuzuki's senses setting them ablaze. His parched mouth begged for moist air only to find dust.
It's not unlike the Doctor's sensation, Tsuzuki mused with laden eyes. He was paralyzing, entrancing. No mater how I try to escape him he chains me. I beg and plead for something that isn't there. I find nothing…and everything.
For all the empty words he spilled to me, there was a hint of truth. Those scraps were an oasis, and I fell willingly into them. They were the flame I knew would destroy me, but nothing could captivate me more. The light burns still, but I am forever detoured from it. Even if not by my physical self but from all of what little left within me that I know is good. I can't be tainted by those marks.
I'm too late for that. I was scared the moment he turned towards me.
The shinigami crumpled to the ground his head arched towards the golden orb above. With a limp hand Tsuzuki stretched up towards the intangible with no goal. Perhaps if he could tangle the haunting rays into his grasp he could grab the strings of the puppet and work his own fate. The rays warped around his palm, setting the edge of his pale skin into a reflection of autumn. Slowly he spread his digits. The light crept in. The glow grew into a sticky web until it incased him.
His breath hitched painfully, the sight engulfing him. With a burst of raw adrenaline he lunged forward into the upright. His limbs flung backward the webbing stretching out behind him in gossamer tendrils. For a breath he remained motionless in half fall. The fracture light whipped back creating wings too long forgotten.
Tsuzuki fell, his eyes shut tight in despair.
The impact never came.
The stifling air had turned into comforting warmth, moist yet not muggy. Tsuzuki scrunched up into a tight ball. Scents were sweet and spicy. He could nearly swear the humming that filled his ears cradled his entire body. The safety of the womb seemed reminiscent as the shinigami pressed his cheek against what felt more like cloth then earth.
"Tsuzuki." A tantalizing voice whispered into him, luring him out of his lull.
Soft lips were pressed against his eyelids. Silken fingers cupped his jaw, pulling his head up. In a newly woken daze an angelic glow surrounded the figure holding him. As his vision sharpened he saw silver cat-eyes and a devilish smirk beaming down at him.
Tsuzuki's skin prickled painfully, his panic overcome quickly by the soothing sounds from this twisted immortal's throat. Mute. The shinigami couldn't pin what to express.
Hate…
Disgust…
Shock…
Pain…
Loneliness…
Betrayal…
Abandonment…
Want…
Lust…
"Mur-aki." He choked in a half sob. The name said all of it.
A gloved hand that had been wrapped around his waist found it's way to his head. As fingers kneaded through chocolate strands those concerns melted away. Though he could see the blood of all those who had died at the Doctor's hands staining his hair, he welcomed the copper scent. The demon that had once occupied him crawled up once again, purring at the touch of its master.
"Such a lovely sight, you are dear Tsuzuki. Your perfection is only secondary to these tears of yours." The doctor kissed away the salty trails that had formed at the corners of the shinigami's eyes.
"Did you know, Tsuzuki, that a cracked doll is anything but useless?" The doctor added, a finger trailing along the jaw it kept captured. "Rips in its hems, dirt impressed finger smudges, chips. Most would throw them away when they become worn."
Tsuzuki's face contorted. His limbs, in a trance weaved up around the doctor's back. He clutched to his shoulders pressing himself into this haunted lullaby. He was one of Muraki's porcelain figures. He was a possession; damaged, hanging on hope not to be discarded and destroyed.
"I would not toss such a precious thing." A whisper crawled into his ear. "Those are merely marks of adoration, of use. They complete the doll. They bind it the one who had given so much attention to it. They are cherished by that person."
No one had marred him more then the Doctor.
"What happens to the doll?" In his mind, his voice sounded as brittle as it had as a child. Was it put on a shelf, away from the world, its memories preserved? Or was it to be battered in a child's wistful games until shattered into dust?
"It is restored to its original intent at the hands of its master." White hands worked their way down Tsuzuki's frame to encircle him. "Embraced. Adored to depletion once more."
A trill of breath rattled out of Tsuzuki's throat as hot breath trickled onto his neck. His captor stood poised above the flesh with the hunger of a vampire sparkling in his eyes. Tsuzuki watched him as he descended; his tongue peeked out and found its way to the taught line of his neck. The shinigami ceased digging his nails into mark free cloth as if the action stung.
It burned.
The trail of moisture that worked its way up his throat buried into him setting him into a race against himself. This was wrong. This was completely wrong. This is what he had been saved from, ran from, and fought to be free of. Tsuzuki whimpered in distress. How could he cling to this sensation? How could he hate and desire this abomination so?
Teeth sunk into the purple-eyed man's lips sinking in a convoluted answer. This was everything he never dared to look directly at. But in this world of shadows Tsuzuki could not afford to fear any longer. The unknown is temptation. Perhaps in these murky depths there was still yet a flicker of hope; if not hope affinity.
Tsuzuki surrendered. He opened his arms to the thirsty motions of the madman who towered over him in spirit. Hands exposed and explored while cunning words delved into him entangling with his soul until the original and invader were inseparably stained. The shinigami reached out in fervor with frantic gulps willing this unquenchable thirst to dissipate. What he sought was eagerly given; the doctor's poison filling his very veins.
The warmth of the harvest moon illuminated the sweat droops that sprawled across his body. These amber pebbles were flicked away quickly by greedy touches. Silent screams for answers that had muddled Tsuzuki's brain earlier in the evening were replaced with demands and met with only riddles. They clouded his brain until all he could hear were the prayers of worship being offered to his form.
For all that was given to him, Tsuzuki could stand it no longer. He leaned forward into Muraki's shoulder biting into the creamy flesh. A surprised gasp escaped the current other half of his construct as the shinigami marveled at the crimson that leaked from the wound. He stained his lips with the color drawing the elated breathy laughter of manipulated desires.
Sharp canines came to return the favor. Tsuzuki hissed bringing Muraki into a deeper entanglement with his soul. Remarking the doctor the shinigami basked in momentary control he had so longed for as Muraki halted for a beat. Tsuzuki suckled the marks until all light, a brilliant glassy shade, filled his eyes the tropical heat shattering into a volcanic blaze.
When the world shifted back into the piercing glow of the washed shade of Muraki's skin, he began to feel clammy. The arms around him seemed to be slipperier, their grip not so dedicated. Panicking, Tsuzuki muttered in protest his words growing into screams as the figure began to shrink away. This dreaded being he had so loathed now felt like a frayed thread tethering him to life.
"Don't go!" He croaked. "I'm …lost." He whispered to the flickering image of the other man.
"Don't worry, precious Tsuzuki." Crookedly comforting words spun around him. "A exquisite doll such as yourself is never abandoned. You master is always near." The words sliced.
The shinigami rose on shaky legs and tried to stumble into the whirlwind of light before him. He raced after the broken chain that had so long been connected to his collar. In ill recovery from the storm of experiences lashed upon him he stumbled to the ground, dirt finally hitting his face.
Earthy musk filled Tsuzuki's nostrils. He found the smell to be tainted with the fumes of the city that lingered so close by. Digging his fingers into the element he watched it pack beneath his nails. The texture and scent clung to him just as the distant one of dying rose printed china had embedded himself into him.
Turning into the newly recolored world he shuddered in pain as the painful pink of dawn washed over him. He watched through squinted irises as it turned into a cruel yellow. It was such a drab color, so far away from its taunting counterpart. Tsuzuki closed his eyes to inhale.
So this was his fate.
Standing up soiled, Tsuzuki used the forgotten wall for support. This was the world he was meant to travel. He would remain chained to the phases of the moon, and like the sea, bend and sway in its influence. All he could do was float along the rise and run of the waves until at last he could crash blissfully upon jagged shores.
Scoffing at himself he wiped his eyes, turned on heel, and walked back into the smog-infested streets. Ambushed by the life forces of those littering the morning market his expression became endearing. These souls were those he gladly paid his price to. It was settled He'd entrust his duty to these heaven bound souls with his humanity and the shadows his heart.
In the dark he was spawned. In the light he grew. In twilight he'd tumble.