Purple Haze

by Urwen

An AU crosses over with canon universe. Mostly MurxTsu, bit of TsuxHis.

Friday, June 13th, 2003. Approximately five years after the Kyoto Arc.

It was a lovely day in Meifu. But then it's always a lovely day in Meifu.The sakura was falling. As usual. Where does it all come from? I mean, to constantly be raining petals, those trees must have some kind of insane immortal metabolic turnover...But back to the point. It was, in fact, lunchtime, and everyone was having a picnic outside under the cherry trees. This is less usual. But I expect doing the same job for possibly decades at a time in the same place where everything remains the same must get pretty boring, so I wouldn't be surprised if Shinigami need a bit of variety every now and then.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. Picnic.

The picnic had been going really quite well, until Wakaba managed to knock her cup of tea all over Terazuma. You can guess what happened then, what with him being volatile as he is. He exploded. A short, but flaming row followed. Luckily, neither of them can stay very angry at each other for long, they're like a married couple, really. Anyway, then Saya and Yuma started talking about clothes, between bites of their lunch. Poor Hisoka-kun went white as a sheet and hid behind the nearest thing. The nearest thing happened to be Tatsumi, who was sitting, cross-legged, politely and calmly drinking tea. As usual. Or he was, up until Saya-chan tried to glomp Hisoka, missed, and very nearly knocked his tea over as well. Well, he did that thing he does, you know when he's really ticked off, where he sort of pretends to be straightening his glasses up and covers his eyes as he pushes the middle of the frame upwards. And everyone edged away.

'I agreed.' He said, voice like cold water down the back of your neck. 'To eat outside on the condition that there was no...silliness.'

Everyone looked down, like a class that's just been told off by the teacher.

Except Tsuzuki, who knows he has the awesome power of the purklepuppydogeyes that not even Tatsumi can stand against.

'No you didn't. I was in the corridor, I heard. You agreed because otherwise Watari wasn't going to give you that file back and let you get on with your work.'

Tatsumi glowered. Tsuzuki puppydogged. Watari tried not to catch anyone's eye. Some people giggled behind their hands. Tatsumi appeared to hover briefly between anger and laughter. The surface of the tea in his hand quivered slightly. 'Hm. Nevertheless.' He went on, covering his mouth again to hide a smile at Tsuzuki's pointy ears and hopelessly wagging tail. Everyone relaxed. 'If you don't behave yourselves, we can all go straight back inside.'

There was a lot of nodding and mumbling of 'yes, Tatsumi' and 'we'll be good, Tatsumi'.

And so the picnic continued, in a more sedate manner. Hisoka emerged from behind Tatsumi and crawled over to the relative protection of Tsuzuki instead, eyeing Saya and Yuma, who thankfully seemed to be no longer interested anyway.

'You have cream on your nose, baka.' He said, sighing and pointing to Tsuzuki's face as he sat down. Really, how is it that Tsuzuki, a grown man, always seemed to end up with part of what he was eating smeared across him somewhere? It was so ridiculous.

'I do?' Tsuzuki went cross-eyed, trying to look at his own nose. This is, of course very difficult. First he attempted to lick the cream off. This is even more difficult, unless you have a tongue like a snake's. Then he pawed at his nose and succeeded in spreading the cream across most of his face.

'Oh, you had to tell him.' Watari complained, fishing around in his pockets, unearthing a handkerchief from a jumble of lab notes, pens and miscellaneous bits of metal and handing it to Tsuzuki. 'It was funny.' He grinned

'Watariii-saaaan.' Tsuzuki sniffled, accepting the handkerchief and with which he smeared the cream even further across his face. 'You're mean.'

Hisoka said his favourite word again. Tsuzuki, my partner, my friend, my angel. He thought. If only I could help clean you up, if only I could touch you, just to wipe the mess from your face. Cream, tears whatever. If only that weren't such a gross breach of the understanding we've come to. No touching, because with that comes all your pain, all your darkest secrets, all the things that we don't want to talk about.

If only I could lick it off.

Eep! I didn't think that.

'Yes, but everyone forgives me because I'm so young and pretty.' Watari replied, tossing his hair in mock vanity and chuckling, breaking Hisoka's chin-on-hands gazing-at-Tsuzuki-cleaning-himself-up reverie. 003, dislodged from his shoulder where she was sleeping by a mass of golden curls, hooted. Watari ruffled her head-feathers by way of apology.

'Young? You're FIFTY.' Tsuzuki said, disbelievingly, frantically wiping at his nose with the sleeve of his overcoat, the handkerchief forgotten among the grass.

'Oh, coming from you, oji-san-one-hundred-and-three-a-few-months-back. You're twice my age.'

'Oji-san?'. Tsuzuki's eyebrows arched as he squeaked.

Hisoka chuckled. 'No, he was twice your age back in 2000. When you threw that party remember?'

'I remember!' Watari rocked back and forth, laughing. 003 hooted again and fluttered her wings. 'Sorry 003. He couldn't have been more surprised if Muraki had popped out of the cake!'

Hisoka and Tsuzuki shuddered. Even though Muraki had been missing ever since the Kyoto incident, he had left little reminders lying around so they wouldn't forget him. As if they could anyway. Hisoka waking up one night, scars aching, the image of a dying man burned into his mind, little gifts left where Tsuzuki would find them, sweets mostly, reminders that he was never far away.

'Don't say things like that.' Tsuzuki said, hugging himself. 'The two dozen red roses and violets he sent me were bad enough.'

'And the poem. Don't forget the poem.' Hisoka added.

'How could I?' Tsuzuki recited from memory;

'My Dear Tsuzuki, best wishes and a poem for the beginning of your second century on this earth,

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

You are so exquisite,

I want to...

At this point, Hisoka interrupted for the sake of everyone's dignity. 'Yes, yes, we all remember the end...Hey, what do you know, lunchbreak is over, we should get back to work.'

'Hisoo...'

Somewhere else...

'It's too late!' The dark haired man laughed, hysterically, as the blond boy and the pale man ran into the room. 'The spell is nearly complete! Within a few minutes, I shall have the power of a shinigami! Then I will be unstoppable!' He was soaked in blood, the blood of a young virgin girl, her body lay nearby, surrounded by dark and twisting kanjis marked on the floor.. Yes, I realise I could have left this out, but there are certain conventions one has to follow when describing a dark ritual. Virgins, blood, mysterious sigils. Think yourself lucky no goats were involved.

'You can't! Only the dead can possess that power! It's forbidden for the living!' The blond boy shouted, furiously. The dark man only laughed in that highly disturbing 'I'm too insane to give a damn' way. The pale man watched him, waiting for the outcome. He thought it best to remain calm, rather than start hurling magic around. He laid a hand on his partner's shoulder.

'There is nothing we can do, whilst he has these wards up.' He said.

'You're right!' The dark-haired man smiled. Purple sparks were beginning to flash across his body. He closed his eyes. 'I feel it coming. Hahaha! Yes! At l...'

Clouds of purple light obscured his vision.

'ast..' He finished.

He was sitting outside, a forkful of cake a few inches from his open mouth.

'kaaaa...what? What's going on? Where am I?'

Tsuzuki blinked and looked around. It was like when you change the channel on the TV from a program you recognise to a horror film, only it was all around him. Just before, there had been a flash, almost like he was looking through two pairs of eyes at once, but at the same time into a mirror. He saw the mess on the floor and on himself. He saw the dead girl. He saw the goat...hah, no not really. He saw Hisoka staring it him in a strange way. He saw...

'Muraki!' Aha! Tsuzuki thought. So now you make your move, you vile fiend. I knew all this silence was you plotting something dastardly... like... teleporting me and Hisoka... a ...um... what's the point of this anyway?

'Hmm?' The pale man looked surprised. There was something not quite right about him.

'Is this your doing?' Tsuzuki pointed a finger accusingly. What was different? Something different about Muraki. He wasn't wearing his usual disconcerting grin, he wasn't flirting with Tsuzuki, but the same white coat, the same glasses, the same grey eye...eyes. Oh right. They both look the same.

And indeed, this Muraki had no metallic eye. Both eyes were identical, behind the thin-framed glasses.

This was odd.

'What? My doing? No, it's yours, of course.' Muraki said, looking confused.

'Mine?' It was difficult to tell who was more confused by the other's behaviour.

'Yes.' Muraki said, looking at Tsuzuki strangely. 'The spell...it must have backfired somehow. You've lost your memory?'

'He recognised you, though, Muraki-san.' Hisoka pointed out. 'He can't have lost his memory.'

Tsuzuki was very confused. Why was Hisoka speaking to Muraki as if he were a friend, and looking at him, Tsuzuki, as if he were his vilest enemy? Was this a dream? An illusion? It was then he noticed something that had been niggling at the back of his mind for the past few minutes. A slow, steady thump in his ears. It was oddly familiar. Hmm, now what could it be? It was his heartbeat. He was alive.

'I'm...alive?' He said, disbelievingly. 'Why am I alive?'

'There's no point asking us.' Hisoka said, angrily. 'We're not.'

'Oh.'

'Thanks to you.'

'What?'

'Are you telling me you don't remember doing this?' Hisoka...or whoever he was.. asked, rolling up his sleeve and displaying his curse scars. 'You don't remember...when you...' He started to choke. Muraki laid a hand on his partner's shoulder again. There was a tenderness there Tsuzuki didn't recognise. This man was not the Muraki he knew. For a start, he was even more pale than usual, and he glowed with the preternatural (ah, Anne Rice's favourite word..) beauty of a shinigami. That sort of thing really didn't happen unless you were a shinigami.

Muraki looked thoughtful. 'Let's look at this calmly, shall we?'

'All right.' Tsuzuki said, controlling his rising bile at the sight of Muraki comforting Hisoka. Muraki touching Hisoka. Hisoka allowing Muraki to touch him. Admittedly, there was a glove and a sweater between them, but nevertheless, it implied that Muraki had nothing inside him the other hadn't already seen.

'Are you Tsuzuki Asato?'

'I am. At least I was last time I checked.'

'And you remember us?'

'Yes.'

'But you don't remember cutting my throat or cursing Hisoka-san?' Muraki lifted his head a little and Tsuzuki saw a thin reddish line marring the whiteness of his neck. Shinigami seem to retain the mark of whatever killed them even on their immortal bodies. One assumes there is some ethereal significance in this, but perhaps it just makes for good angsty plot.

'There've been times when I wish I could have cut your throat, but no, I've never actually done it.' Tsuzuki confessed. It wasn't strictly true. Most of his 'killing Muraki' fantasies involved things that took a lot longer than a simple throat slash. 'And it was you that cursed Hisoka-san.'

'It was not!' Hisoka cried, angrily and starting forward. Tsuzuki's face fell. Please Hisoka, don't look at me like that, like I'm someone terrible, I can't stand it. It makes me feel like someone is crushing my heart.

'Calm down, Hisoka-san.' Muraki said, holding him back by his arm. 'I believe I'm beginning to understand what is going on here.'

'Oh...' Hisoka stopped and stepped back, still regarding Tsuzuki with green-eyed disconcertion. It was better than the anger, but still bad.

'Tsuzuki.' Muraki said. 'Where were you five minutes ago?'

'I was at a picnic, in Meifu, eating cake.' Tsuzuki replied. 'With Tatsumi and Hisoka and Watari and Saya and Yuma

and Terazuma and Wakaba.'

'You've never been to Meifu. He's lying.' Hisoka said. Tsuzuki bit his lip. 'How can we trust him?'

'Hmm.' Muraki said again, thoughtfully. 'A picnic. How nice. I suppose you were under the willow trees?'

'Cherry trees.' Tsuzuki corrected.

'Where does Tatsumi keep his pens?'

'In that thing on his desk.'

'Where does 003 like to sleep?'

'On Watari's shoulder, or on the window ledge in his office.'

'Where is the library?'

'Past Kono-kachoe's office, second left.'

'He knows JuOhCho as little too well for someone who's never been there, don't you think Hisoka-san?' Muraki said.

'All right, yes.' Hisoka said, grudgingly.

'A few minutes ago I was a shinigami.' Tsuzuki said. 'Now I'm human. I don't understand this.'

'A few minutes ago, you...though evidently it wasn't you, it was some other you...said you were going to gain the power of a shinigami.' Muraki told him.

'Really? There are two mes?' Tsuzuki went through a brief existential crisis.

'Yes. And the other you has changed bodies with you, by the looks of it. He's done what he said he would, gained the power of a shinigami. By becoming another version of himself, who is one.'

'This is too complicated for me.' Tsuzuki said, dismissing the intricacies of four dimensional space with a wave of his hand. 'So this other me, who sounds like a really mean guy from what you said he's done, is running around in my body now? In Meifu, doing whatever he wants?'

'Yes.' Muraki nodded. 'At least, I assume so.'

'That's not good, right?'

'No.'

'Can that be fixed? Swap us back?'

'I don't know. Perhaps we should go back to Meifu and research the spell that he used.'

'Okay.' Tsuzuki said, feeling a little better now things were clearer, but still very, very weird. 'Let's go.'

Meanwhile, back in the timeline we know...

'Hisokast?' Hisoka said. 'Baka, there isn't even anything in your mouth.'

Hisoka and Watari saw Tsuzuki pause for a few moments, looking utterly bewildered, look around, look at the hand holding the cake fork, look at each of them in turn, and smile oddly, before putting the forkful of cake in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

But if they had been able to hear his thoughts, they would have got this...

Huh? What happened? Where am I? Do I have the power of a shinigami? Yes, my hand seems different, and ...I can no longer feel my heart beating. I'm dead. Not what I expected, but not really a problem. And there's the boy, and that idiotic scientist, what'shisname, Watari. And the shadow-master and the other shinigami. No Muraki. Hmm. Perhaps he's not around. The boy doesn't seem surprised. Haha, I remember...no, time for that later. I must have changed time, or changed the world somehow, so that I'm a shinigami. How unexpected.

I'd better eat this cake. Mmm... caramel.

'Are you all right, Tsuzuki?' Watari asked, a little disconcerted by the facial contortions Tsuzuki had just performed.

'Mff?' Tsuzuki said, muffled by a mouthful of cake.

'Chew and swallow, Tsuzuki.' Hisoka said.

Tsuzuki did so, suppressing his anger at being ordered around by the boy. 'Yes, I am, Watari-san. Why?'

'You just acted rather funny.'

'I...uh...I'm feeling a little strange. Perhaps I'm ill?'

'Ill? You're a shinigami.'

'Oh yeah...I am, aren't I?'

Hisoka sighed and rolled his eyes. 'Baka.' He got up.

Tsuzuki's eyes flashed, strangely. Irritating boy. Is this how you treat...me...ah.

'Aren't you coming?' Hisoka asked. 'We have to get back to work. You're so lazy. Look at Tatsumi glaring at us.'

Tsuzuki looked at Tatsumi. He was, indeed, glaring at them in a 'get back to work, you seventy-year term no-good worker' way. Tsuzuki wondered if the person he was at the moment would glare back. He decided against it. He stood up and followed the boy and the scientist (did that man ever brush his hair?) inside. How much longer could he keep up this charade? He might easily slip up. He had to get away from here. Shinigami could teleport, couldn't they?

'Ah..Hisoka?'

The boy turned to face him. The scientist had wandered off somewhere.

'What now?'

'I forgot my...cake..'

'B..'

'Don't call me a baka again.'

'You and sweets...' Was that anger I felt? Hisoka thought. No, it can't be.

Ah, well, that was one thing he and this other Tsuzuki had in common, Tsuzuki thought. 'Hehe...yeah. Silly me.'

'Go and get it if you must.' The boy pointed, irritatedly. He was a little fazed. Something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what.

'I'll be right back...' Tsuzuki hurried away.

'Hey...You're going the wrong way..'

'Sorry...' Tsuzuki turned around and went in the opposite direction. Once he got out of sight of the boy, he breathed a

sigh of relief and mentally cursed the boy repeatedly. Pleasing memories of what he had done to Hisoka flashed through his head and he smiled. Now, what does one do to teleport...Tsuzuki thought of the quiet alley behind his favourite cake shop.. and he was there.

Oh..right...that.

Smiling like a cat, he stepped out from the alley and into the cake shop. It was exactly the same as the one in his world, The baker even recognised him and knew what his favourite kinds were. Strange how some things were exactly the same, yet others were completely different...

Well thank goodness one of the things that stayed the same was Chocolate Buttercream Filling. Sadly, that included prices that would have given Tatsumi a minor cerebral haemhorrage if he had been there.

Happily, Tatsumi wasn't around, nor would this Tsuzuki have cared if he was. He emerged from the shop with a slight patina of chocolate gracing his mouth.

'Tsuzuki-san. Out on your own?'

Tsuzuki didn't look up. 'Hello, Muraki. Yes. I ditched your...I mean my... partner.'

'How odd. You and the boy are usually inseparable. Well, never mind. I suppose I shouldn't question my luck.' Muraki stepped out of the shadows. Tsuzuki looked up, a comical sight, his mouth still half full of cake. Mm..that same thin, platinum hair, those beautiful pale silver eyes, like the clouds before a storm wind begins to blow. And for once, not looking at me with pure hatred. Well...hm...that's interesting. Why is one of them covered? He seems a lot more alive than usual as well.

'My beloved Tsuzuki...I'm sorry I've been away for so long...I didn't forget you, believe me.'

'My...beloved...Tsuzuki...?' Have I died and gone to heaven? Tsuzuki thought. Well, obviously yes on the first part.

Oh boy. Okay, so in this time..world...whatever, I'm dead and a shinigami and he's alive...and in love with me...this is so great!

'You had better chew and swallow before you choke.' Muraki said. Tsuzuki did so. Muraki stepped closer to him. There was barely any distance between them. Tsuzuki gulped. Muraki seemed to stop and wait for him to do something, as if he was a small animal that might be startled and run away. Tsuzuki grinned, and wondered what

Muraki expected him to do. He stared into the wonderful grey eyes..well..eye, unable to conceal a look of pure joy from beginning on his face.

Is he going to kiss me?

Muraki frowned. Tsuzuki blinked.

'Who are you and what have you done with Tsuzuki?' Muraki said.

'Whaaa?'

'My Tsuzuki has never looked at me like that before. With disgust, with hatred, with complete uncaring emptiness, yes, but only in my dreams with abject adoration. You look like my Tsuzuki, you smile like my Tsuzuki, you even eat cake like him. But you are not him.'

Tsuzuki pouted. 'I'm jealous of your Tsuzuki.'

'Many people are, I expect. You say 'your Tsuzuki' as if there were more than one.'

'Hmm. Yes, me. Your Tsuzuki doesn't like you then?'

Muraki laughed and took his glasses off to dab at his eyes with an immaculate handkerchief. 'I suppose you could put it that way, yes.'

'My Muraki doesn't like me.' Tsuzuki said. He was finding this quite interesting. This person was a great deal more interesting than the Muraki in his world.

'Why not?' Muraki asked, replacing his glasses.

'Probably because I killed him. And his fiancée.' Tsuzuki replied, smiling innocently, eyes twinkling.

'Ukyo?' Muraki asked, looking interested, and fuming internally. How dare this...person discuss with such impunity murdering the two people he cared about most in the world, along with Tsuzuki. But then didn't he do the same with the boy? 'I don't expect he was very pleased about that.'

'I suppose you could put it like that.' Tsuzuki repeated Muraki's affirmation back at him. 'He came after me, with dragons and beasts. I cut his throat. Right across here.' Tsuzuki's innocent smile twisted and he reached a thin finger up and drew it along Muraki's pale throat as if it were a blade.

Muraki couldn't supress a little gasp at Tsuzuki touching him. He caught the other man's hand and held it. Tsuzuki made no move to take it back 'So..unlike my Tsuzuki, you have no qualms about killing humans.'

The purple eyes storm-clouded over and brows knitted. 'Is he really like that? He cares for those worthless...after the way they treated me...him...us...'

'I believe..from what I read in my grandfather's notes..'

'I killed him too, by the way.' Tsuzuki interrupted, nonchalantly. 'He tried to keep me a prisoner. In that hospital of his.'

'My, you are prolific. Continuing, my grandfather's notes said that he considered himself some inhuman creature. A demon, and not fit to live among humans. He blamed himself for the way he was treated, rather than, as you do, the people who harmed him.'

'I remember thinking like that a long time ago. Before I realised the demon in me made me superior to them. In fact, I almost k..'

'Killed yourself? Look at this.' Muraki moved his grip along and showed Tsuzuki his own right wrist.

Tsuzuki did so. 'Yes, he wears his watch on that one. Odd, considering he's right handed, the same as me.'

Muraki unbuckled the watch.

'Oh.'

Muraki ran his fingers across the scars lightly, making Tsuzuki shiver in pleasure. 'So if I have it correct...you couldn't kill yourself. And you remained in my grandfather's hospital, your pain becoming worse and worse and transmuting finally to hatred.'

'Mhm.'

'How interesting...to think that it only required one decision to make the two of you completely different people.

Superficially the same, and yet with utterly contrary motivations. He dies another little death every time he is forced to end a life. And you...' Muraki replaced his fingers on the scars with his lips, a smattering of kisses, brushing gently across the grid of fine lines. Tsuzuki's fingers tasted deliciously of the chocolate from the cake.

'Quite enjoy it, actually.' Tsuzuki said, eyes closing. 'Mmm...oh, please don't stop.'

Muraki stopped. Tsuzuki growled. Muraki returned Tsuzuki's hand to him and pressed his watch into it..

'Perhaps we might go somewhere a little more private than the alley behind a cake-shop?' He suggested.

'Oh, I suppose so.' Tsuzuki replied, replacing the watch, this time on his left wrist, almost a defiant act, emphasising his difference to his other self, and then threading his arm around Muraki's. 'Lead on, my dear Muraki. Perhaps you'll help me finish my cake'

Well...Isn't this a suprise. Muraki thought, as he walked through the streets with his beloved on his arm. Perhaps another man would have been bothered by the knowledge that a manic sociopath had taken over the body of the man he loved, but really the part of Tsuzuki that interested him most was his body, so the fact that the current occupant seemed as infatuated with him as he was with the previous. He was quite happy to sacrifice that adorable self-loathing martyr complex that made it so easy to interfere with the man's head for the kind of contact this other Tsuzuki was allowing him. It was only sheer, iron self-control that was keeping him from taking the other man right there and then.

As the sun began to set and the shops closed around them, they walked, enjoying each other's company without really saying anything. They left the commercial streets of Nagasaki behind them and wandered into a park. The flowers were blooming, scenting the dusky air and the cicadas chirped in that mildy irritating fashion of theirs.

Tsuzuki thought about insecticide and other things ending with -cide. The more he heard about this other him, the more he disliked him. And the more he vowed to take his place permanently. The man was wasting his life..er..afterlife..existence, whatever. He had all the power of a shinigami and this amazing version of Muraki, as outgoing and forward as the other one was quiet and shy.

They found a bench beneath a long leaved tree, and by unspoken mutual consent, sat down. Muraki, quite to his astonishment, found himself with a messy brown head in his lap.

'Am I out of line?'

'Would you stop if I was?'

'No. But I'm trying to be nice. Cake?'

For the second time that day, Muraki had to wipe the laughter from his eyes. 'No...thank you.' He looked down at the smiling purple eyes, amongst the tangle of brown hair and glanced at the black-coat clad body draped over the bench, long legs dangling off the end and contemplated how beautifully it all fit together. It almost seemed to good to be true. Here, now, with Tsuzuki stretched out before him. He ran his hand through the other man's hair. Tsuzuki positively purred with delight. A thin hand reached up and traced the line of his cheek, accidentally-on-purpose brushing the pale strands of platinum hair away from his right eye. There was a gasp.

'I take it your Muraki doesn't have this?'

'Let's not talk about him, mm?' Tsuzuki replied. 'Let's not talk about either of them. I like it. It makes you seem even more strange than usual.'

'Strange?'

'Odd. Otherworldly. Ethereal. Whatever. Angelic, perhaps.'

'Do you flatter the other me like this?'

'I asked you not to talk about him.' Tsuzuki twitched, angrily and Muraki felt nails dig into the skin around his eye for a moment, where the other man was running his fingers.

How violent this man could become, scowling with Tsuzuki's mouth and clawing with his nails. Muraki took hold of the thin wrist again, wrapping his fingers tightly around the scars and drawing the wandering hand down towards his mouth and planting kisses on the tips of the fingers. 'Well, do you?'

Tsuzuki chuckled. It wasn't a nice chuckle. 'Persistent, aren't we? Yes, I do. Do you do the same to your Tsuzuki.'

'Whenever I see him.' Muraki saw Tsuzuki's mouth twist with envy. 'How can you be jealous of yourself?' Muraki asked.

Tsuzuki slapped him across the face with his other hand, striking like a snake with the speed of a shinigami. He watched gleefully as livid red marks appeared on Muraki's astonished face and noted how beautifully they showed against the paleness. 'Superficial resemblance. He and I are not the same person. Oh, I'm sorry, my dear Muraki, but you shouldn't make me angry.' He sat up and kissed the marks.

Muraki's expression passed quickly through suprise, dismay, fury and finally stopped on amusement. The other emotions looked as though they might make a comeback in the near future, though. 'You certainly are volatile, Tsuzuki-san.'

'As volatile as you seem to be patient.' Tsuzuki replied. 'It's one of the things I love about you.'

Muraki touched his face. Every moment a new suprise. He would have to watch out for that look of capricious, childish anger that seemed to appear just before this Tsuzuki did something unexpected. Well, if he thought Muraki

Kazutaka was going to be upstaged, he had another think coming.

'Forgive me, Tsuzuki-san, I didn't mean to offend.' He said. Tsuzuki did not seem surprised, merely complacent.

'You're forgiven.' Tsuzuki replied, graciously, winding his arms around Muraki's neck and pressing himself against the white-clad body. Arms enclosed him and supported him as he buried himself in the folds of the coat and the hollow above a shoulder bone. Muraki smelt of red things, though you wouldn't think so. Roses, anger, blood. It felt so right to be here. He belonged here, he was even regretting a little having hit the man. Just a little though. It had been quite pleasurable to wipe that smug look off his face. Purple eyes closed, blissfully, enjoying the moment.

The light of a bloody moon fell on the pair, staining one pale red and the other shades of chocolate and midnight grey.

'Can we go and kill someone?' Tsuzuki asked, turning his face upwards, deliberately letting his breath fall on Muraki's neck and enjoying the little shudder it elicited far too much.

'Whatever you wish, my beloved.' Muraki replied, kissing the top of his head.

'Can I bring my cake?'

Laughter echoed around the trees. It was a little too maniacal for comfort.

Tsuzuki, our Tsuzuki, sat outside his office (although in this reality it was Muraki's office) deep in fearful depression.

It wasn't just the things he'd been told that the other him at done. Nor was it the way Tatsumi, his reliable, trustworthy elder-brother figure had looked at him with polite contempt and asked Hisoka and Muraki icily why they had brought him to JuOhCho, or the knowledge that the reason Watari had looked at him in such fear was because the other him had once tortured the scientist for, apparently something ridiculous like looking at him funny. Coming to terms with the idea of a good Muraki, a man with the face of his and Hisoka's tormentor, as Hisoka's shinigami partner in his place was quite a large part of it.

They had told him their stories, in return for his. How the other Tsuzuki, after wandering Japan, a demonic and immortal killer, had met Muraki working in a hospital, found out he was the grandson of the man who had kept him imprisoned for years in a hospital without his consent and become obsessed with him. How he had slain first the man's fiancée, his adopted brother Oriya, and then when he sought revenge, the man himself. Hisoka's story was much the same, only with the obvious difference. Here, Hijiri was dead, they had not been able to save him or Kazusa from Sagadalius. Tsuzuki had been the one responsible for Maria Won, Tsuzuki had manipulated Tsubaki-hime (although, obviously someone else had done the heart operation) and the Kyoto events had never happened.

But the biggest blow was the horrible sick feeling in his stomach when he saw the way Hisoka regarded him with complete indifference. Though he no longer saw horror in the wide green eyes, he couldn't see the amusement and occasional irritation that to him said 'friends, partners'. The knowledge that here, it was him who was responsible for Hisoka's death, and whenever this Hisoka looked at him, he would see the image of the man who raped him and condemned him to a horrible, torturous death. It confirmed one of his worst fears, and the reason he could never really confess how much he adored the boy. That he was capable of hurting him in the way the Muraki from his world had done. That he was no better than a serial killer and only his guilt kept him from being a hundred times worse than the doctor.

'This place is insane.' Tsuzuki told himself, burying his face in his hands. 'I want to go home.'

He was not a happy bunny.

He would just have to hope the Gushoushin-tachi, Hisoka and...his partner...he couldn't bring himself to say the man's name in conjunction with Hisoka's, could find the spell his other self had performed and the way to reverse it.

Speak of the devil, the door opened and Muraki stepped out, closing the door behind you.

'I have bad news.' He said. 'Tatsumi-san says he isn't prepared to trust you and help you with the spell unless you agree to let Hisoka scan you to be sure you're telling the truth. I'm sorry.'

'It's all right.' Tsuzuki said, not looking at Muraki. It was easier to talk to him if he didn't have to see him. 'It's the sort of thing I'd expect from Tatsumi-san.' He looked up, forgetting. 'It's Hisoka-kun I'm more worried about. I don't want to hurt him.'

'Hisoka is tougher than he looks.' Muraki said, smiling. It was a kind smile, seeming to thank Tsuzuki for his concern about his partner's welfare. 'And Tatsumi and I will be there.'

Tsuzuki was still worried. He knew how Hisoka's empathy could affect him, almost completely incapacitating him in the presence of someone feeling strong emotions. And here they were asking him to let down all the walls that kept him from hurting the boy, like he had that first day they met.

'Come inside the office.' Muraki beckoned. Tsuzuki stood up and followed him through the door. Inside, Tatsumi and Hisoka stood. Tatsumi looked totally calm, as usual. Hisoka looked slightly irritated, as he did when trying to conceal concern for himself or others.

'He agrees.'

'Tsuzuki.' Tatsumi said. 'I warn you...if you...'

'Let's just get on with it.' Tsuzuki hung his head. 'How close do I need to be?'

'Stand there.' Tatsumi pointed. 'Don't even think about moving any closer to Kurosaki-kun.'

Tsuzuki obligingly moved. He looked at Hisoka, who seemed as nervous as he was, if not more. He turned back to look at Tatsumi and Muraki. It was odd to see Muraki looking worried.

'Okay.' Tsuzuki said, closing his eyes. 'Shoot.' He lowered the shields he'd carefully put up to protect his partner from his less-than-stable-personality. He heard a gasp from Hisoka as emotions flooded over him.

'Kurosaki-kun?' Tatsumi.

'I'm all right. I know he isn't lying, but I can't tell any more than that.' Hisoka said, his voice quavering.

'Is that okay?' Tsuzuki asked, opening one eye, then the other.

Hisoka shook his head, swallowed drily and held out his hand. Tsuzuki bit his lip, worriedly. Was it safe to touch Hisoka? He looked at the boy, who had a strange look in his sparkling green eyes. The moment seemed to last a ridiculously long time. Tatsumi was beginning to look suspicious. They might get angry if he didn't do as he was supposed to.Tsuzuki reached out and took Hisoka's hand. Hisoka staggered as a flood of images and emotions overwhelmed him.Tsuzuki caught him as he fell, supporting his weight against him and filling his world with blond hair and warmth. He saw the ends of Hisoka's scars emerging from the cuffs of his sweater, and noticed with horror how exactly his own forefinger fit into the marks. At last Hisoka recovered, and stood on his own two feet again.

'Are you all right?' Tsuzuki asked.

Hisoka nodded and smiled, reassuringly, always an odd thing for Hisoka to do. He stood up and whispered into

Tsuzuki's ear.

'You should tell him.'

Tsuzuki was speechless. He looked up and noticed that Muraki had been holding Tatsumi back.

'It's all right. He's telling the truth, about everything.' Hisoka told them.

'I thought so.' Muraki said, straightening his glasses and breathing a sigh of relief. Tatsumi seemed to relax a little.

'All right.' He said. 'You have my permission to go to the Library and try and sort this mess out. I'll go and make a report to the chief.'

They found a nice girl, who shouldn't have been walking home alone...

Tsuzuki held her head back, one hand over her mouth, choking her screams, offering up her throat to Muraki's knife, a bizarre gift where only the presenter and the presentee knew the real meaning. He held her close, feeling the life ebb out of her, spill across Muraki's beautiful white coat, probably irreparably staining it.

'How can you wear white?' Tsuzuki asked. 'And do things like this?'

Muraki contemplated the blade and his front for a moment. He smiled. 'Triple strength washing powder and white wine vinegar.' He licked a little of the blood off his fingers. 'She was drinking... Silly girl.'

'Sake?'

Muraki nodded and stepped in closer, to help Tsuzuki hold up the dying girl, whose legs were no longer supporting her, as if they could. She could only have been about fifteen, fair haired and blue-eyed and a little plump. Her head fell forward onto Muraki's blood-sprayed shoulder as she lost muscle control, spreading red-tinted golden curls around his neck and down his back, like some kind of mane. Tsuzuki looked at him, the crimson moon filling his eyes with blood and staining his own a deeper midnight purple, empty and full of darkness. The girl slipped from their grasp and slid onto the floor between their feet, an unnecessary obstruction, the evidence of her existence spread across their bodies, wet and glistening.

Bloody hands slid around Tsuzuki's lower spine, leaving a red snail trail across his coat. Tsuzuki twisted his fingers together behind Muraki's neck and pulled his head down towards him, wet coats sticking together as they kissed.

Muraki tilted Tsuzuki's chin up and spread bloody kisses across his neck, returning the gift as a trail of red marks and small moans while Tsuzuki entwined his fingers in his hair and drove his nails into the back of his neck.

Muraki stopped. He enjoyed hurting people himself, but liked it less when other people hurt him.

'Stop that.'

'What, this?' Tsuzuki asked, pressing harder. Muraki winced.

'That.' Muraki replied, and removed Tsuzuki's hands from behind his neck, and brought the right wrist to his mouth, running his tongue along the scars, drenched once again in blood. Tsuzuki pouted and tugged at his hands, trying to get Muraki to release them. Muraki just chuckled, nastily and pulled him close for another kiss, practically lifting him off his feet, then contrarily dropping him on the floor.

'There was no need for that.' Tsuzuki whined, picking himself up.

'Perhaps you'll learn to listen when people ask you to stop.' Muraki suggested, folding his red-smeared arms. 'Really, even my Tsuzuki is politer than that and he detests me.'

Tsuzuki deliberately ignored him, and lifted the upper body of the girl on the floor beside him, before letting it fall again. The movement caused more blood to leak out and soak into the earth, dyeing the green grass dead brown. 'I think we broke her.'

'Mm.' Muraki had seen many broken dolls.

'I like her better like this.' Tsuzuki said, running his hands through blonde tresses and rearranging them on the floor.

'Just a body. No more flawed human in it to laugh and cry and do all the silly things they do.'

'Excuse me...'

'Oh, I don't count you.' Tsuzuki shuffled around on his knees and found where he had placed the box with what was left of the cake in it, and fished out a slice. Muraki watched him, curiously, to see what he was doing. Tsuzuki ran a finger across the bleeding throat, and then through the buttercream on top of the cake, and then licked his finger clean in a way that made Muraki want to pin him down and do dreadful things to him.

'You want some?' Tsuzuki asked, offering the slice of cake like a puppy bringing a stick for it's master to throw..

'Now that you mention it.' Muraki said, joining him at floor level. 'I am a little peckish.'

Tsuzuki smiled, a mockery of a radiance, a happy child at some kind of grotesque picnic and held up a plastic forkful of cake. 'Say ah.'

'I think I've found it..'

'No this isn't it. It includes goats.'

'The goats are optional.'

'All right. We'll try it. Let's go.'

'Pretty hair.' Tsuzuki's face was smeared with chocolate and blood, much to Muraki's amusement. 'Like the boy's.' He and Muraki lay on either side of the corpse, which was staring blankly into space. 'Who killed him in your world? Was it you?'

'Yes.' Muraki said, gazing at the countenance of his beloved across the sight line of a dead face.

'Why?' Tsuzuki asked, playing with the limp strands of blond hair.

'He saw something he shouldn't have.' Muraki replied, watching Tsuzuki's fingers leave patches of blood in the hair. Where was this going?

'Let me guess...that girl with the dark hair...Makoto something..'

'Aoiyama.' Muraki's brows knitted momentarily. This was an intrusion. Bad enough to talk about killing Oriya and Ukyo, but to dally on private moments between him and his victims in such an offhand manner, as if discussing a meal they'd had together. Perhaps if the man hadn't been so nonchalant, it would have been good to share the memories, the feel of the knife striking, the terror in the air, the falling sakura. But this...mindless 'chatting'...cheapened the whole thing. Suddenly the dead girl between them wasn't a moment of meaningful sharing, a task accomplished together, a shared pleasure. She was like the empty plates at the end of a meal, dirty and lifeless.

'That was it. She looked so pretty dying amongst the sakura...and he..well, he sweetened the deal.' Tsuzuki rolled into his back, twisting the hair in his fingers as he had done with Muraki's.

'Very much so.' And yet he continued talking. Muraki wondered why. Perhaps it was the lingering memory of Tsuzuki's willing arms around him, Tsuzuki's throat and mouth emitting whimpers of pleasure, Tsuzuki's amethyst eyes closing in pleasure, his fantasies fulfilled, if only for a while.

'Funny how in some things you and I are the same, but in others completely different.'

'Quite.' This man was an effigy. A rude mimicry of the beauty that was Tsuzuki. Uncouth, shallow, and perhaps even a little disturbing. He felt a little ill.

'You don't say much, do you?'

'I am far too busy looking at you.' And wondering what it would be like to cut your throat.

Tsuzuki rolled over on his back and gazed at the moon through slitted eyes. 'I'm going to stay here forever.' He rolled back, quickly and pillowed his head on his elbow. 'Muraki?'

'Yes?'

'I know what I did that was different from your Tsuzuki. What did you do that was different from your counterpart in

my world? What makes you so much more interesting than him?'

'Now how can I know that without knowing his life story, hmm?'

'Well, why do you kill?'

'Why does there have to be a why?' How dare you ask that question. It's none of your business.

'When did you start?'

'Perhaps..a little after my brother was killed.' Why am I humouring him? Is it worth it just to sleep with Tsuzuki's body?

'Saki? He just ran away in my world. No-one knows where he went. Believe me, I looked.'

'Really..interesting.' To kill him as well, no doubt. You are a thorough sociopath, aren't you?

'Yes. My Muraki took the bullet that was meant for his brother. He still has the scar in his arm. Saki ran away and was never seen again.'

'How selfless of me' Muraki spoke as if the persons discussed were a mere acquaintances. Took the bullet for Saki? For the insane, tainted evidence of his father's adultery? What had gone through this other him's head? It was quite ridiculous, the whole idea was ridiculous. He had disliked his half brother from the moment he met him, and he was rude enough to use his first name. Things had really gone downhill from there. What could possibly have motivated him to do that? Compassion? A sudden flash of empathy? Brotherly feeling? No, there was just no way he could put himself into a mindset that would let him save Saki's life. Muraki's thoughts were interrupted by a presence on the edge of perception. 'The boy is nearby. He's looking for you.' He told Tsuzuki.

'I know, I feel him too. It must be a curse thing, or maybe this body. Took him long enough to find me.' Silly of him to come out on his own, but then there was no reason for him to think Tsuzuki might be anyone different from who Hisoka thought he was.

'We can't expect too much of him. He isn't very clever.' Muraki pointed out.

Tsuzuki leaned over the girl's body. 'We should kill him.' He said, conspiratorially.

'Again? That would make three times, between us. Besides, he's a shinigami.' What do you mean, we should kill him? Just like that? That boy...he needs to be savoured. You probably didn't even care how he felt when you killed him..your version of him, did you? You probably didn't pay attention to his pain. He was just a toy to you. Not even a doll, something you can care for, something with humanity in it. You don't feel any more, do you? You don't even acknowledge the existence of feelings beyond amusement and pleasure. When I make you angry, you're not angry with me, you're angry that you're angry.

'Third time lucky, and so am I. Make him bleed enough and we can kill him.' Tsuzuki said. I know that, you fool. Muraki mentally snapped.

However, it was tempting, very tempting. Remove the thorn in his side. 'All right. He's very close now.' And despite it all, he was just trying to keep up. Trying to keep up with a killer he was beginning to think could be worse than him.

'I'll be the bait.'

Tsuzuki sadly regarded the body of the girl in the room where he had first appeared, the synchronicity lost on him. Just another body. He stood in the centre of the circle of kanjis whilst reversal spells were said around him. Thank goodness he was (hopefully) going home. There had been far too many shocks today, and who knew what his other self was doing in his body, He was also a little fazed by what the this-world Hisoka had said. It was embarassing, as if he'd accidentally confessed his love to Watari thinking he was Hisoka, or something along those lines.

Purple sparks began to flash across his vision.

Muraki it seemed had found himself in that irritating situation where you find you are enjoying yourself immensely, but are doing it with someone you find grates on your nerves a little. Killing was not a game for Muraki. It was a serious undertaking, a marriage of art and pleasure. This Tsuzuki killed as he ate. With little thought and less appreciation for the life he was ending. His killing was soulless, frivolous and empty, like him, and over too quickly. He clawed and was impolite and did atrocious things with confectionery. If it wasn't for the traits he shared with this world's Tsuzuki, Muraki thought he probably would have left hours ago. Or maybe throttled him. He wasn't sure.

Muraki lay in wait in the shadows, wondering why he was still here. They were going to kill the boy, were they? It would be easy would it, without either version of either one of them protecting him? And would it be over with all too quickly and forgotten, like the girl? No, that was not fitting, not for the boy. Or would the shadow master follow, and the other shinigami? The boy was both an irritant and a source of pleasure, but only for torturing a Tsuzuki who wasn't here now, and might not even return. What was the point of killing him (again) like this Tsuzuki would, wasting a thing that should be done in far more fitting and better planned circumstances. No, he didn't want to play. If possible, he would stop Tsuzuki at the last minute. Somehow. Why keep up with someone when you can halt them in their tracks?

Muraki noticed that he was actually contemplating sparing someone's life and almost laughed. He wanted his own Tsuzuki back. This one was fast becoming singularly uninteresting.

Green eyes in the darkness.

'Tsuzuki?'

'Hiya Hisoka!' Tsuzuki said, brightly. Interesting how easily he wore the guise of the childish idiot. It was the outer persona for both Tsuzukis. Only on the inside did they differ. Pain or resentment. Guilt and self-hatred or anger and hatred of humanity.

'Baka! Where did you disappear off to? I've been looking for you for hours, after you acted strange and went off like that! Tatsumi is going insane.' Hisoka stopped. Something felt terribly, terribly wrong. He was getting nothing from Tsuzuki, but that was normal of his shields were up. His scars began to burn, and someone took hold of his hands from behind, clamping a hand down over his mouth. Green eyes widened in fear. He knew the feel of that mind, dark and empty. But when Tsuzuki, a completely unfamiliar smile on his face, his eyes amethyst ice, took hold of his face, everything was so much worse. A mind full of furious, raging, firey hatred. Trapped between empty ice and searing heat, writhing in agony, he didn't even notice the thin fingers wrapping round his throat, and the knife rising to join them.

And a pale arm turning aside and knocking hands away from his throat. Angry purple eyes as Muraki pulled the boy away from them.

'Why?'

'I've changed my mind.' Not like this. Things have to be done properly. Or else we're no better than animals.

'You capricious bastard...'

'So speaks the pot to the kettle. Go home. You're not wanted here.'

'Every time! Every time you stop me from hurting him..I thought it would be different.'

'What can I say? Truthfully, I find you quite as obnoxious as I'm sure my counterpart does.' Oh, that felt sooo good

to say. You irritating fool, go away. You understand nothing about anything. Bring back myTsuzuki, a hundred times better than you could ever be, a century old child.

'What has that whining idiot got that I don't have?' Tsuzuki cried, furious. In Muraki's grip, Hisoka flinched as the anger seared through him. 'Why does he have the power, and the love, and you when he doesn't even want them?'

'Taste.' Muraki said.

Fury. Betrayal. Stubborn refusal. Tsuzuki opened his mouth to spit another insult. A strong wind began to whirl around Muraki and Hisoka, the product of his anger. Muraki wondered for a second or two if he was actually going to have to protect the boy, which was quite absurdly funny. Then Tsuzuki froze.

It was dark, but the garden of white roses glowed with it's own inexplicable illumination.

'You can't have it back.' Evil Tsuzuki said. 'It's mine now.'

'No it isn't.' Good Tsuzuki replied.

'Interesting, isn't it?' Evil Tsuzuki changed the subject, and held up his right wrist. 'How one tiny action can make things so very different. Just a few simple cuts that separate you from me.' He glared at Good Tsuzuki. 'You should thank me, Asato. I've given you back your life. Isn't it better there? You're alive there.'

'I won't let you hurt my friends.'

'How do you know I haven't already?'

'I'd know. Too many people are dead in your world who should have lived.'

'So? They're just humans. They aren't worth anything.'

'I want to see Hisoka again.'

'There's a Hisoka in my world.'

'I want to see -my- Hisoka again. I live for him. I stayed alive for him. Without him, I don't exist.'

'You weak fool. Take your body back, if you can.'

'I will.'

'You think you're strong enough? There are no shikigamis in here to help you.'

'I'm strong enough. I know I am.'

Good Tsuzuki stopped. Why do I know? I feel it...but..Uncertainty hit. I took my body back from Sagadalius because of Hisoka and Hijiri. I left the fire for Hisoka. I'm taking my body back for Hisoka. But why does that make me stronger than him?

'Why is that. You've tried to kill yourself more than once. The cowards's way out. You can't stop Muraki from hurting the people you love. What makes you think you deserve this body? '

Good Tsuzuki hesitated. Evil Tsuzuki contemplated gloating. Good Tsuzuki smiled and said, slightly disbelievingly;

'I was the one who had the courage to pick up the knife.'

Evil Tsuzuki's face clouded over as realisation dawned. Good Tsuzuki stared, grimly at him. 'Look at your wrist.'

The scars had reopened. Blood was running underneath his shirt sleeve. 'No...these are yours, not mine.'

'You stole the power of a shinigami. EnmaOhCho demands retribution. You wanted to be dead. You took my scars from me. So keep them, and die.'

Evil Tsuzuki's face dissolved into a mask of horror as the gates of hell opened before him.

In the other world, a candle went out.

...and then snatched Hisoka away from Muraki.

'Don't touch him.' Tsuzuki said, furiously, shielding Hisoka with his arms.

'Ah, just in time.' Muraki said, and vanished in a flurry of white feathers.

Tsuzuki frowned. 'What?'

'Are you all right?' Tsuzuki asked Hisoka, who was clinging to him.

'It's like your entire mind just changed in an instant...' It was as if someone had turned a blazing furnace down to a warm living room fire.

'It did.'

'You're covered in blood.' Hisoka said.

'Oh...no...I am, aren't I. He was going to hurt you. Thank goodness you're all right.'

Hisoka still seemed slightly dazed. 'How are we going to explain this to everyone? What happened, anyway?' Hisoka frowned. He couldn't remember much but hatred, but for a minute he could have sworn he felt Muraki protecting him.

No, that couldn't be right. It was too incongruous for words.

'I'll just have to tell the truth.' Tsuzuki said. 'My evil twin stole my body and...augh...goodness only knows what he did, and with Muraki too.' He wiped at his mouth, disgustedly. 'I need to have six showers and wash my mouth out with bleach.'

Hisoka resisted the urge to retch. He'd had far too much wrongness for one night. 'We need to get back, right away.'

'Hisoka, wait.'

Hisoka turned to look at Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki bit his lip, unsure of how to put this, or even whether he should put it at all. The other Hisoka could make a pretty good guess what this Hisoka would want, right? Right? He would be doing the right thing telling him...taking a chance.

'What?'

Tsuzuki took a deep breath. Now or never. 'Iloveyou.' He blurted out, and kissed the surprised Hisoka, quickly.

Hisoka broke into a rare smile, suprised and joyful, slightly overwhelmed by the contact and Tsuzuki's feelings. 'I love you too, baka. Now come on.'

'Ok.' Tsuzuki nodded, blissfully happy as a puppy with a new chew-toy.

'You have chocolate all over your face, by the way.'

'Again?'

'Is he dead?' Hisoka asked. 'I don't feel anything from him, but then I don't usually. There's just..less of nothing, if you get my drift.'

Whether he got it or not, Muraki knelt down by the body of Tsuzuki Asato, the eyes staring, mindlessly open, the empty purple of dead violets, and checked his pulse.

'Yes. But I don't know which him is dead.'

Muraki lifted up the right hand, the irony again, lost on him. Blood from the grid of scars stained his white glove. There was a strange sense of completion in the broken body before him. As if something had been re-balanced and now things were back the way they should be.

High above the city, Muraki sat on a hillside and contemplated a world where he was good, Tsuzuki was evil, Saki lived and Oriya and Ukyo did not. A world he had touched on, for a few utterly strange moments when he thought about what could have made the other him want to save his brother, and when he found himself hating Tsuzuki and protecting the boy...Hisoka. The name seemed strange, as if merely by saying to himself he had given Hisoka life.

It was too weird.

He went home.

Owari.

(Thank you to the reviewers who pointed out that I had somehow managed to duplicate the story… I put it up rather hurriedly before I left for my holiday. Oops!)