TITLE: The Ghosts of Halloween
AUTHOR: Simply Kim
PAIRING: Muraki Kazutaka + Tatsumi Seiichirou
FANDOM: Yami no Matsuei
GENRE: Alternate Universe
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything except this... (Piece of crap?) fic. ^_^;
THE GHOSTS OF HALLOWEEN
Muraki Kazutaka was someone who hadn't always believed in the supernatural.
For quite a while, he had been unable to prove their existence, and for sure, he thought then, that he would detest the moment reality would reveal it to be real. It was a purely horrible thought, but it was lodged in the back of his mind... in safe storage.
Just in case.
Well, at least, until he had spotted a lonely human-like figure wandering around his ancestral home's gardens when he was nine.
Day after day, he watched as it wandered around almost aimlessly, stopping once in a while to gaze up at the far distance and touch the flowering petals of roses that grew on thorny bushes nearby. Seems really alive... He thought earnestly, the wheels in his brain turning, trying to find a way to know who it was and why it was haunting his otherwise normal home.
So the next night, he climbed out of his bedroom window, grinning in his patented self-satisfied way after dusting himself off. Well, it wouldn't do for his loyal caretaker to find out he was missing from his room and let his evil brother Saki place him under house arrest. He snorted in distaste. Sneakily, he tiptoed over to the hiding place he had come up with after all day preparing his battle plan and waited.
Waited...
And waited some more.
For what seemed like hours, he silently watched, eyes alertly zeroing in on anything that made any sort of sound. But nothing. Fighting off what seemed like a particularly loud sneeze, he was all set to call it a night and admit defeat when a sudden movement caught his eye. Surprised, he immediately crouched down once again and stared.
There it was, the dark figure that didn't seem so dark anymore now that he could see clearly. A man, he judged, maybe in his twenties. Wandering about, as usual, before resting on the bank of the koi pond in the middle of the garden.
The figure stretched out its hand and dipped his fingers into the pond before taking it out, letting the extra water cascade back in droplets. Muraki could practically hear the sound of miniature waves that fluttered into his ears and the quiet rhythmic dripping. Such action signified that it was real – what seemed like a ghostly apparition was real – and it was one of the living.
However, there was something unearthly about the fluidity of his movements, and the way he carried himself was all too different.
The shadows lengthened and moved. They seemed to skitter about and Muraki thought that it was just the dim light playing tricks on him. However, when he felt something nudging his bare feet, he stiffened and looked down, face turning to a mask of terror as what he thought of as an illusion began cloaking his toes in dark silken waves.
They were cold and wet, the exact feel of slime, but ironically, there wasn't any moisture left on their path. Terrified, he managed to look up again at the man who had been haunting the grounds and noticed that he seemed not to have noticed Muraki's little dilemma. Clapping both hands on his mouth to keep from screaming, he sat down and began scooting backwards.
Scoot. Scoot. Scoot.
And then he had to stop.
For as he made it a little farther away from his hiding place, the man suddenly stood up, back stiffening as his did a while ago, as if filled with realisation that someone was spying on him. And slowly... turned.
Muraki's silvery eyes widened as they met his, and he couldn't help but feel the enormous amount of electricity that made its way throughout his body. He couldn't move, and for some strange reason, his hands were not clamped on his mouth anymore. He was sitting there, staring his 'ghost' in the eye with his mouth hanging open – wide enough to catch flies.
This is not happening... He thought in total panic. I have angered him!
They were like reinforced steel, his gaze. They were hard and extremely unforgiving. However, as fear took over Muraki's senses, he saw something unreadable flash in those glowing arctic eyes before they immediately softened.
The man stood up, turned to him and started walking. Slowly, step by step, he dragged on steadily towards him, but no matter how hard the boy tried, he still couldn't move. Now he was at arms' length. Muraki wanted to scream. This was more than any nine-year-old could take. Gulping, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for what he thought of would be a painful demise, all the while pondering over the terrible beauty of those mysterious jewel-like irises.
But the pain never came.
All he felt was a pair of sturdy arms scooping him up and cradling him, and then the sudden displacement of air impacted with a whooshing sound penetrated his ears. Strangely enough, it felt comfortable.
All too soon, the arms left him. Although he kind of missed their warmth, he was still in fear of what he had just experienced.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
He was back in his room.
He was sitting on his bed.
And the man was standing on the pane of his over-sized window, watching him silently. They stared at each other once again, deadlocked, his senses hyped up by the cool breeze wafting in, coupled with an overwhelming scent he positively identified as gardenias. It was dark, but he could still make him out. The shadows were skittering about, but at least, he thought with relief, they were not grasping him like they did before.
"Who are you?" He asked, unsure of what to expect. "Are you a ghost?"
He was offered a wry smile, as if he had just asked the stupidest question ever and the man was being polite about it. "Not quite." Came the safe answer that gave Muraki nothing but a huge gaping hole for even more questions.
"Who are you then?" He persisted, aware of the fact that it sounded more like an indignant squeak than anything else.
"A friend." The man responded. "The fairy godfather who picks up kids to keep them safe from, say, soul-eating ghouls at night."
The boy's eyes narrowed. He knew when he was being made fun of. "I'm not a kid." He retorted defiantly. "And you can't be a fairy – you don't have wings."
At that, the man chuckled before shaking his head. "This is Watari's department, not mine." He said almost inaudibly. Then, he took his breath and gave him a small smile. "Search and you shall find." He replied simply. "Seems costly, but your family has a beautiful garden – beautiful enough to calm a troubled heart. Thank you."
And just like that, the man took a step back, and vanished.
Much to Muraki Kazutaka's chagrin, he never came back.
So imagine his surprise when more or less twenty years later, he was in the middle of chasing that one person who had been eluding him for a long time now, and out he came all bristly and protective... of his prey.
There was no recognition in his eyes as far as Muraki could see, and he attacked him with the same shadows that terrified his little self years ago. He's still a Shinigami? He thought in repressed shock. He still hasn't found his salvation?
It was at that moment when he realised, no matter how powerful he had become, no matter how much he sold to the devil, all the years that passed and all the studying and discoveries, they were all for naught... he still lost to the man who had been haunting his dreams all this time.
But maybe, just maybe, if he planned things right, he would be able to find answers to all those questions left when he was nine. Those questions his research did not even touch.
"So this must be Ju-Oh-Chou's infamous secretary." He declared slyly. "Happy to see you too."
Then he would mould him, just so he could never slip away again.
... And I will be your salvation.
ENDE
A/N: Feedbacks are greatly appreciated~! ^_^