So.
This story will probably just be a one-stop-dump for all of my various Yami no Matsuei oneshots. (I'm too lazy to make seperate stories out of them) They will be of different writing styles, stories, of different characters. Some of them may not make much sense, but that is most likely how it's written.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei.
This first oneshot will be kinda depressing and dark, but not all of them will be...
Review will be appreciated!
Read on...
Blood.
It was the life of all creatures, the anchor that tied them to Earth.
It was the vibrant redness of life, the dull, heavy burgundy of death. It was the forsaken scarlet of war, and the sinful ruby of murder.
It was the life of every person he ever killed, every soul he ever damned.
It was everywhere.
Could you not see it?
Staining his hands, streaking his shirt, dripping down the walls. The blood of everything he had ever killed, haunting him.
He couldn't get away from it.
"Tsuzuki? You're spacing out again."
"Oh…what? Sorry, Hisoka. It's just that those cookies look sooooo good!"
"Baka."
Could Hisoka not see it?
Then again, Hisoka was an innocent. He didn't kill so many people. He was clean.
Not him. He was a murderer. He didn't deserve to live.
Monster.
"Tsuzuki? Want the rest of my pie? I can't finish it."
"Sure, Tatsumi! Sankyuu!"
How many had he killed, now? Fifty? A hundred? The memories were fading…
No! Don't forget! You must never forget. That is the least you can do. Honour the memories of the ones you have killed.
"Tsuzuki? Hisoka? You two have another case. Here is the file…oh, and bring me back a souvenir. The crab cakes are good this time of year, I hear."
"Of course, Konoe."
"Oh, and don't blow the money again. We're in debt enough without you, Tsuzuki."
"Hey? I don't waste money! It's all for a good cause!"
"Pfft. Yeah right."
More killing? More sins to add to your already bloated pile?
He couldn't help it. It was his job. He killed, even without meaning to.
It was his nature.
Nature to murder.
"Now, where's this boy? Two blocks down and on the third floor of the fifth apartment building, right?"
"He's in the hospital, idiot. He's due to die."
"Oh…right."
Hospital. He hated hospitals. He died in one of them.
They were places of mourning, of death. Usually from him.
Freak.
Soulless.
Killer.
"Hey, Hisoka! Why so glum?"
"There's too much death here. Too much sadness, despair. It's suffocating."
"Why? Hospitals are places of healing. See how happy that girl's parents are? She's returning to her home. Hospitals should be places of healing and thankfulness."
"I guess. Thanks."'
"Your welcome!"
"Hey-! Stop hugging me, baka. People are staring. Get off!"
Not even Hisoka wanted him.
Hisoka never wanted you.
He was worthless.
A dead weight.
Useless.
Unneeded.
If he died, the work at the Division would be the same. Tatsumi would be happier, probably.
Why stay?
"There. Another job done. Are you okay, Tsuzuki? You don't look so good."
"Nah, I'm fine. That piece of cake must have disagreed with me…"
"Which piece? You've been eating all day!"
Another life gone, from his own hands. The soul was so keen to live, holding onto this world so tightly. What right did he have to take that away?
No right, that's what.
The boy had hated him. He saw it in the his eyes.
Pruning others for the sake of one…
"Tsuzuki, are you all right? After Kyoto, I was worried about you…"
"I'm fine, see, Tatsumi? I'm smiling."
"That's the lemon muffin talking."
"S'not!"
Fake pity. Deep inside, none of them care for him. He knows.
And why should they? He was a demon. He didn't deserve it.
"Going home already, Tsuzuki?"
"Yeah, Watari. I feel so tired. Long day, you know."
"Sure, okay. G'night!"
"Thanks."
He was a monster.
Demon.
Killer.
Murderer.
Freak.
Sinner.
No better than Muraki.
Worse than Muraki.
At least Muraki was honest with everyone.
Why live?
"Hey, Hisoka? Want to walk home?"
"Fine. Why?"
"No reason."
(long pause)
"Hey…Hisoka?"
"Yeah, what?"
"…Actually, never mind."
Why live?
Why should he live
When everyone else has died?
Murderers
Don't deserve to live.
They should
Die.
I can't be allowed to live.
See all the blood on your hands?
Not even my death can atone for everything.
But it would be a start.
I could
Wash away their blood with yours.
And then finally
Rest. Although you don't deserve even that.
But
It is the best. It is for the best.
I can't be allowed to live.
Murderers should die.
Right. An eye for an eye
And a life for a life.
Die…
It wouldn't be even close to balancing the scale, but it would be a start.
That's true.
Why wait?
"Good night, Tsuzuki."
"Bye, Hisoka."
Why stay?
You can't live, not with the blood of all those innocents on your hands.
I can't die, not with demon blood in my veins.
You can
Try. I know.
Then why wait?
In the privacy of my apartment.
No one will rescue you out of pity now.
No one?
No one. You will finally finish what you have always wanted.
What I've always needed.
Right.
Do you see the blood?
The ceiling, the walls, the floors, your hands, soaking your shirt…
Do you see it?
Yes, I do.
I am
You after all.
We are
One and the same.
The blood…
It's everywhere.
I can't get away from it.
Everywhere.
It was every person I have ever killed.
Every soul you have ever damned.
It was
The vibrant redness of life.
It was
The heavy burgundy of death.
I can't escape it.
There is no escaping it.
It's all…
Your fault.
It's everywhere.
Your actions.
Everywhere.
Their blood.
My blood.
Blood.
Gone.