Disclaimer: Yami No Matsuei is the property of Matsushita Yoko. I make no claim to the characters, story, etc, although I claim an OCs (which I have tried to keep down to a minimum).
Quotes used without permission of authors. If you want the full citation for either the Coldplay or the Cavell, email me and I'll send it off (why anyone would want that, I don't know, but I'm putting it in for the fic police at FFNet).
This is my first, long, real fiction; its not one of my usual one-shots. Any advice for it is wanted and much appreciated.
Summary: On the day Tsuzuki relives his death through suicide, he and Hisoka are assigned a difficult case, which reminds them of a figure from both of their pasts. Meanwhile, Hisoka is learning what it means to live in a world where he asked Tsuzuki to live for him. Post Kyoto, anime only. I suck at summaries, sorry. :(
Pairings: Essentially, its TsuSoka, but they aren't together right off the bat.
Reviews wanted and needed. What can I say? I'm needy.
"The idea of suicide, further, combines with the idea of breaking of attunement, the killing of one's connection with others, one's craving for exemption from human nature, to yield the crime of killing the humanity in oneself. It should seem to constitute its own punishment." Stanley Cavell, "Texts of Recovery" In quest of the ordinary 61-62
"Am I a part of the cure? Or am I part of the disease?"—Coldplay, Clocks
Meifu
Tsuzuki Asato stood in his apartment, wondering which tie to wear. Always the same black, always the same white shirt, as if he could never wear anything but the colors of mourning. Who do you mourn for? he asked himself as he ran one idle finger down the length of his thin tie before he mechanically ran it through its course and securing the knot. He stood still in the silence, looking at his reflection before a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. After a moment, the door opened and Kurosaki Hisoka came in, calling Tsuzuki's name.
"We are going to be late," Hisoka chided, breaking the careful silence of the apartment. The younger man walked into Tsuzuki's room and balked at the cleanliness. Usually, his partner's bedroom was a mess, the floor covered with clothes and magazines, dust covering the furniture, the sheets tangled and half on the floor. But everything was pristine this morning.
Tsuzuki noticed the confused expression on Hisoka's face. "I couldn't sleep last night," he offered with a lopsided smile. Hisoka quickly wiped his face clean of all expression.
"Well at least you did something productive for once, "he snapped back. Tsuzuki suppressed a sigh; he knew the younger man was acerbic to protect himself, to make sure no one hurt him but sometimes it was a little too much to bear. Especially on a day like today. On a day when the sunlight seemed to cut through him like a blade; on a day when all he craved was an impregnable silence; on the day he died seventy-one years ago.
Short huh? I don't promise not to have any more cliffies, but I wanted to repond to the Cavell quote directly. Chapter 2 is one its way, I promise.