Lifeblood

A Yami no Matsuei fanfic by NeekerBreeker(@fanficcer.zzn.com)

Disclaimer: Humor me. Sue my sorry, poor ass and watch me laugh at your pitiful attempt to squeeze any money out of me.

Rating: So far PG-13, but will get R-ish.

Warnings: Beat it, homophobe, before I send Raven the Great Ukenizer after you. And if you're suffering from a severe fear of ghosts, bugger off back to mommy right now.

Summary: How easy it is to become dependent on pain and not even notice it.

Pairing: Tsuzuki x Hisoka. Big surprise, innit...

Feedback: You got some constructive criticism? Gimme gimme. Of course, if you just want to feed my ego and tell me you like my ficcie, I wouldn't say no. ~_^

Blabber: All I know of YnM, I've learned from the TV eps 1-10. This is an AU gap that takes place right after the boys return from their cruise, after King of Swords arc.

UPDATE! I actually have read the manga now and I know they *did* go to the hot springs and had a rest after the King of Swords arc. But since the manga differs in various other points too, I decided to ignore it for this story. My apologies, I love the manga but I just don't feel like rewriting two chapters for it. So this is animeverse, fellow Yami-enthusiast. Let's keep that in mind. ^_^

And another UPDATE! I've tried to clean out all the fangirl Japanese, but there were some terms I just had to leave there. I'm stupid, and don't have my Webster's. If you can think of a way to translate the following terms into good English, drop me a line, will ya? Thanks.

So, anyway, here's The Glossary That Could Not Be Avoided.

Yuurei = basically, a ghost. But I'm making a distinction between Western ghosts and Japanese ghosts in this story, so I decided to leave this untranslated. So a yuurei is a Japanese ghost, and a ghost… a Western ghost. Got it? There *are* differences. Go read on the topic, I could rant on about it for ages.

Shinigami = a death god. But there are many of them, so nothing quite as powerful as the Grim Reaper or Odin or other gods of death in Western mythology. In case you don't know, Tsuzuki and Hisoka are also such beings. That's why they get the neat powers!

Ofuda = a "spell paper". As far as I understand, a piece of pergament on which the spell is written in black ink, using kanji characters which are so artistically drawn that no one can read them. (That is, I can't read them. -_-;) Tsuzuki uses these as components when he casts spells.

Kekkai = *I* know what it means, *you* probably know what it means, but doesn't "protective wall" or whatever you want to call it sound clumsy? I can't think of a good, general translation, and neither can my huge dictionary (don't the writers of dictionaries watch anime?). Tasukete kudasai.

Gyuudon = It's a dish. Very popular in Japan, and cheap, too. Basically some beef on udon noodles, thus the name (gyuu – beef). Tastes very good, in my opinion, especially if you're cold, down on money and have a scary ghost on your tail. ^_^

Suffixes –san, -kun, -sama, -chan = Oh, you know what these mean, don't you? I'm not planning on dropping them, as I find they are necessary for right characterization. I don't know about you, but the thought of "Mister Tatsumi" makes me feel uncomfortable. C'mon, say it out loud. Now doesn't that make you think of a horrible, dubbed version of Yami no Matsuei? O_o
I promise that you won't find too many –chans, though. It's so overused, I start forgetting what its original meaning is.

Bon = it's "bouya" (boy or boyish person) in Kansai accent. In case you don't know, Watari speaks very, very thick Kansai accent. I love Kansai accent, and this goes with the proper characterization thing I mentioned above, so it stays put. You just don't hear Watari calling Hisoka anything else in the anime, and not in the manga, either, as far as I know (although I didn't really pay attention. Correct me if I'm wrong, okay?). By the way, if I wrote Kizuna fics, I'd also make Masa call Kai "bon" all the time, for the same reason. Yes, I know Kansai accent. I was sorely tempted to write Watari speaking fangirl Kansai Japanese. I didn't, because just like fangirl Japanese in general, it would've been pointless. Somebody hand me a pistachio for managing to resist the call of the Dark Side. ^-^

Thank you. Now enjoy the story, if you still can, after this huge commentary. I hope no one got crushed under it.

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Chapter One: Repentance


Such a simple job. I could almost hear Tatsumi saying, 'If you can't handle stuff like this, I'll pretend you're not from our office' when he briefed us this morning. Sounded like the usual go-there-and-bring-back-the-tortured-soul stuff. I could just see the paperwork. Oh man, paperwork even after I'm dead! What else can go wrong? I never really want to complain to him, however, since he kind of reflects it right back. It's not Tatsumi's fault the business is slow. And I suppose he didn't invent bureaucracy either, though sometimes he acts in a way that gives the thought the benefit of doubt.

So, an easy job, he tells us, go there and knock yourselves out. You told me you wanted work, any work. I looked up from my piece of raspberry pie (too much filling) and tried my best to glare at Hisoka. Was the kid a work-a-holic? Mental note: he's hanging around Tatsumi too much.

"What?" he had the nerve to ask.

"I need to take you out more." I proceeded to glare at him, though I suspect I looked more like a disgruntled bulldog than a scolding older brother. Have to practice on that.

"You had something else to do?" Hisoka inquired, a rhetorical question which I didn't bother to answer, instead taking another bite of my raspberry pie. Then I noticed that half of it had mysteriously disappeared and saw the door flung closed after Watari, the sly devil, and forgot about Hisoka in my quest for pie.


We got going as ordered, and I did my best to act grumpy for being pulled to the other side of the country when I was still having trouble recovering from our last case. A couple of hellish days on a ship with a mysterious murderer and Muraki, which then proved to be the one and the same, surprise surprise. I would've needed a real cruise after that one. It really wore me out. Not to mention Hisoka. I've never seen him break into tears before. He was so violently crushed after Tsubaki-hime's death that I feared he would do something dangerous, in that state of mind. I've kept an eye on him ever since. The kid has a dramatic streak that could make him, I don't know, self-destructive or something. It's my place to see that he won't go over the edge. The place I seemed to take the moment they assigned him as my partner. It's okay with me. I guess I've always wanted to take care of someone younger than me. Gives me a certain sense of repentance.

Hisoka isn't really big on conversation, so I settle with silently watching him as he stares out of the window of the train. I think he's falling asleep. I want to tell him to go to sleep, but we'll be in our destination in ten minutes.

Stretching my legs, I turn my eyes away and try to concentrate on work. I should've checked out the timetable of professor Harvey, the gaijin who seems to have his Japanese wife's ghost following him, before we left. When we arrive at his place, it'll be about 7 PM and he'll most likely be home, which will make it nearly impossible to sneak into his house and look for the letters that tie his wife to him. She wrote her husband a letter, to tell him how she hated the way he treated her, how she felt she died every time he hit her. He never found the letter. But he wrote his own, to apologise, which he meant to bury with his wife so that she might forgive him in the afterlife. He was too much of a coward. The letter was never finished. It pains him, and it pains his poor wife.

That much we've gathered on the case. Now only thing that remains is to capture the vengeful ghost, find the letters and burn them to free them both, the hero and heroine of yet another tragedy, another story of death. Sometimes this work gets so repetitive.

Hisoka is asleep now, his breathing even. He's leaning his cheek against the window, slumped on his side. Poor kid. I guess he hasn't got much sleep lately. I hate to think I have to wake him up soon.


I hear a cheerful female voice announcing that the train is now arriving at our destination. I nudge Hisoka, and he rubs his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, and we step out to the evening twilight of the city. The air is clean, however, and there's not that much noise. We're in the rich district.

"Ready to brave Harvey's ghost wife?" I ask and shoot a wide smile at the still yawning Hisoka.

"As long as I can get to sleep after it," he mutters and starts walking.

It's probably a lost cause, but I ask anyway.
"You haven't got much sleep after the last job, have you?"

He looks straight ahead, although I'm sure he sees nothing interesting there.

"Yes. ...No. Why?"

"I'm just worried."

"I'll be fine. Look, isn't that the one we're looking for?" He points at a street sign. Good save.

"I think so. You still think we should go talk to this Harvey guy?"

The idea discomforts me a little. Harvey most likely expects his guests to speak English and I've never been too good at linguistics.

"I can do the talking." Hisoka replies, apparently reading my mind. "Maybe I could pose as a Psychology student. I already know what I want to ask him."

How did he know Harvey is a professor of Psychology? The kid's magic, I'm telling you. I mean, even beside the obvious. I nod and smile. Smiling is easy when he once again proves how well he can read me.

"Good. I'll check out the house while you keep him busy. Then we'll go eat something, contact the office and you'll get your sleep. How does that sound?"

"Don't take any chances," he warns me, and a flash of leaf-green eyes tells me he's serious. "We have plenty of time to come by tomorrow when he's at the university."

"Yes, of course," I say and laugh, "don't worry about me. You just do your part, and I'll do mine."


We separate a block away from the house. Hisoka heads to the door, and I circle behind the house. One flying leap and I land on the roof, making as little noise as I can. I peek down over the edge of the roof. The window below is open and when I hop on the windowsill, the breath of air I make sends a few papers flying on the desk in front of the window. The room is quite big, but the bookshelves covering its walls and the piles of maps and papers on the floor make it look stuffed and small. Bingo, this looks like a study. I dive inside and start going through the drawers and books. If only the old trick would work and pushing a certain book would open a secret locker...

The door to the room is ajar, I suddenly realise and pause in my searching. I sneak to put my ear to it, just to make sure. I hear someone talking downstairs. Good, I'm safe. Better not close the door; this way I can hear if someone is coming. I attack the boring-looking books again, checking if there's a secret hiding place behind them. After shuffling half of the books and maps out of the way and putting them a-right again, I become convinced that this isn't the way to find the letters. Suppose Harvey's wife put hers in some place only he knew? Behind her photograph, or something? I turn my gaze back to the desk. Unfortunately, there are no photos on it, and the shelves cover all the walls, so no mysterious paintings either. I open all the drawers once more, just to prove that there's nothing attached to their walls. I even check under the desk, but find only dust. Right. Time to check the other rooms. Maybe his bedroom proves to be more -


A soft thump, like someone trying to sneak but stubbing their toe on something. I spin around, reaching for an ofuda, but see nothing. I walk over to the door, and, just in case, listen if I can hear someone outside, spying on me. There doesn't seem to be anyone there, though. Whew. The soft murmur can still be heard from downstairs; Hisoka's got his act going quite well. Okay; I better hurry up and get to mine. The door handle is cold against my sweating palm as I grab it. Why am I so nervous? It's like I can almost feel someone's presence, but not quite. Could the yuurei be somewhere in the vicinity without me noticing? I pull at the door, but it apparently opens outward. I push at it, but it still doesn't open. Come to think of it, this door was ajar a moment before. And it's a heavy door, I'm certain no air current coming from the window could have shut it. What...?

I lean down and peek through the keyhole after soundlessly removing the key, wondering if the door is stuck or if there's someone blocking it. Then it dawns to me. The door is locked. And the key is here, so that means it was locked *from inside*.

I spin around but of course see nothing; yet someone must be in the room with me. The key trembles in my hand. How could I not hear it turned? How can I not sense the yuurei's presence even now that I know it's here? Maybe it's not a yuurei, then. A Western ghost? That would explain why I can't gauge its presence or powers. Under some other circumstances, I would say that it's quite interesting; that a Japanese woman would love her British husband so much she actually turned into a gaijin ghost. Now I just want to find a way to get rid of it. This is beyond Hisoka and my abilities; we need help from the Western department. My kekkai might not work against it, but I squeeze the ofuda in my hand, just to feel that I have some control of the situation. The air in the room feels thick and I'm almost panting. It feels like it's warmer in here than before.

A sudden change in the air; there's a flash of orange colour, a sense of movement, like a silent wind passing through the room. I start chanting the magic incantation under my breath as the ghost takes a more and more visible form. I back down against the door. I'm not going to let this ghost get to Hisoka and Harvey. So far it has its back to me; now I can see the poor dead soul in all its current form. The woman is still see-through, but I could count each carefully embroidered chrysanthemum on the dressing gown it wears. It - or should I say she - has her brown hair put up on a messy bun, and it appears she is leaning over the desk, as if arranging the papers, murmuring under her breath. She seems so life-like, if you ignore the transparency. Different from Japanese ghosts, who have been turned into monsters by their hatred. Somehow her life-like appearance makes it all the more creepy. As I stand there, behind my kekkai, hoping she won't notice me, she suddenly straightens and turns around. What chills my blood in this lonely, slumped figure is that her mouth is slightly open and a mixture of blood, saliva and vomit runs down her chin, dripping on the floor and disappearing. All of a sudden, she starts making pained, strangled noises, like a person who is trying to cough but is not quite able to do it. She takes a step towards me, although I can't see her feet.

'Stay back', I warn her, faintly recalling that sometimes Western ghosts will communicate with living souls. Maybe another dead soul wearing a mortal body won't be an exception. 'I am not the one you are looking for. I'm here to help you.'

She doesn't show any sign of having heard me. Her almost maniacal eyes are fixed on me, and I have a feeling she is here for one reason only: to hunt down her husband. I can't feel her hatred as I would were she a yuurei, but she doesn't seem to know anything but bitter revenge. The rivulet of sweat that travels down my temple now feels cold; the sudden heat wave is replaced by a freezing wind that makes me shiver. I realise my breath is misting, and that gives me quite a scare.

'*Stop*!' I finally blurt out in English, my voice wavering. I've encountered terrifying creatures during my 70 years of work as a shinigami, but this cold - this mindless, numbing cold - is somehow one of the worst. Why am I still here? Why haven't I already leaped to the window?

The realisation strikes me like a freezing hand that grips my heart. *I can't*. My feet don't move. A moment of panic, and then I stand frozen, and can only watch as my kekkai fades away, useless. The ofuda slips from my hand to the floor, and I barely notice it. My hands are getting numb with cold, and very heavy, and she's getting closer, and there is *absolutely nothing* I can do, I realise with blatant horror.

Then, for a fleeting second, I feel a chill so cold it burns, and I get so numb I can't feel any part of myself. The last flutter of consciousness speaks of cold fingers on my throat, and then it vanishes.

I disappear into darkness.


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