Disclaimer: Ego-chan does not own Yami no Matsuei. Her last name does have ten letters, but it is not Matsushita.

Notes: This is some TsuzukiHisoka fiction, because I am depressed with most of the Tsuzuki and Hisoka fics out there to read. Gomen minna, but I must stand to this irksome situation and throw something at it I feel is not as bad as most. :smiles nervously: I'm afraid it is bad as most, though. I am uninspired.

Warning: Uh…homosexuality? I'd say Tsuzuki was a pedophile, but by the way Hisoka dresses, I think his has justifiable cause. Also, there really isn't any sort of real plot…sorry 'bout that.

Summary: No, the title does not chronicle the events of a Yami date. This fic is a TsuzukiHisoka filled with ye ole controversy, bitchyness, and hilarity. No physical Murakis on the premises, but the plot will survive without him being here outside the characters thoughts.

Dinner and a Show

The waitress smiled across the restaurant at the boy who'd just entered, a voice in her memory reciting the order: one small soda and, if he was hungry, maybe a little curry rice, too. Just a scoop, not too strong, his stomach was weak.

"Bouya, same as usual?" she asked, walking up with a glass of grape soda and placing it in front of him. The boy gave a quick nod before continuing his book. The waitress walked away with her lips pursed thoughtfully. The boy always came to the restaurant in the late evening, after the hordes of hungry businessmen had thinned. He kept his distance from the tables being served, secluding himself in a corner or near the door, where the draft chased potential neighbors away. The waitress didn't remember ever catching the boy's name, or hearing him speak beyond ordering his curry rice. She had wondered many times where he came from and whose son he was. Whoever they were, his family were either unconcerned with the child's wandering, or he was in Tokyo for schooling.

When the waitress saw the boy again, he wasn't alone. This had never happened before, and it surprised her to see him still sitting as nonchalantly as when she had delivered his soda. She didn't know why, but she would've expected him to behave differently since he took such pains separating himself from the rest of the patrons.

The waitress instinctively became suspicious of the man sitting across from the boy. He spoke quickly about something she couldn't hear and stood up. She looked away and began wiping shelves as he walked to the counter and grabbed a menu.

"Do you serve pie?" the man asked, deciding he'd didn't want to search the menu. One of the younger waitresses hurried to answer before any one of the others.

"Only if you want apple. Everything else is gone, sorry."

"How much is left? Apple's my favourite," he said brightly. The older waitress looked up from wiping at the sound of his childish voice. The man had purple eyes but for all other accounts looked normal enough. She wondered who'd convinced him to purchase colored contacts. Her suspicion of him didn't lessen. The man was strange and threatening.

The waitress didn't relax after the man bought the last two pies she'd opened that evening. She wasn't sure why she was convince so, but there had to be something wrong with a person who ate two large pies by themselves. The man smiled politely at the waitress's co-worker, who had become infatuated with him, before walking back to his table. There, the boy looked up long enough to sigh at him before going back to his book.

All three of the waitresses watched in silent bewilderment as the man began inhaling pie. He paused for only a second to offer some to the boy, who refused with an icy stare. After that, the eating seemed to lose a little of its initial enthusiasm but didn't change pace. The women were left dumbfounded as the first pie disappeared, and one of the young waitresses suggested opening another pie and heating it up before the man finished his second.

The older waitress frowned as her two co-workers disappeared into the kitchen. She wasn't about to leave the kid alone with such a strange man. She yelled for one of the girls to get her a new rag and began wiping down tables. It wasn't long until she was in hearing range.

"This place has great pie. Why do you eat here, Hisoka?"

"Well, it was a place for me to be alone."

The waitress considered the name the man had called the boy and compared it to what she knew of him. She decided reluctantly that the name fit, and took it as a personal offense that Hisoka's privacy had been invaded.

"Why would you want to be alone in a place like this? It is small and cold because your table is close to the entrance. This can't make you happy."

"You wouldn't know. You don't understand."

"I'm beginning to think you're a little masochistic."

"I want to be alone."

"If I didn't care so much, you would be."

"Then maybe you should do the both of us a favour by not worrying about me?"

The man looked critically over his pie at Hisoka, who was looking intently at the pages of his book. He almost smiled, but stopped himself for the sake of the boy's bad mood.

"Hisoka."

"Hm?"

"How's the book, Hisoka?"

"Why?"

"Because, I find your ability to read upside-down and backwards completely fascinating."

Hisoka slammed the book shut and looked up at the man reproachfully. The man responded to this by smiling apologetically and offering him pie. To the surprise of the waitress, Hisoka accepted.

"Pie makes everything okay."

"Oh, shut up, will you?"

It was the first time the waitress had seen the boy eat something other than curry rice. His style hadn't changed, remaining thoughtful and deliberate. His manners were very unlike his companion, who seemed terrified at the thought of his meal going anywhere but into his stomach. She watched them eat out of the corner of her eye, observing the contrast and expecting the man to eventually steal back the slice he had given Hisoka. This was not necessary, however, as her co-workers appeared.

"Sir, we have another pie prepared, since you seem to be enjoying yours so much."

"I'll take it," the man cheered, pulling out his pocket book. He stopped when he noticed there was no money. "Oh no," he said. "This isn't good." He turned to Hisoka.

"Here." Hisoka already had the money out and was handing it across the table. The man was very happy with this and smiled brightly while the two younger waitresses swooned.

"Wow, exact change and everything, Hisoka! You're amazing."

Hisoka lacked equal enthusiasm. "I hope you choke and die, you baka."

The man cowered in his childish manner and whimpered. "You're so cruel, Hisoka."

Hisoka didn't seem to have taken offense from this. He no longer seemed to think anything of the man across from him and stood, pulling on his coat and paying no mind to the look of confused dismay he received. The waitress felt she understood. If someone were embarrassing her, she would walk out on them and not look back.

"If you stay up late, Tsuzuki-san, you'll never wake up in time for work."

That was it; there was no goodbye, just a fact of common sense and footsteps towards the door. The waitress looked on with paternal fondness. The kid had a head on his shoulders and a very abrupt manner of expressing himself. He was also better composed than most adults she knew.

"Wait, Hiisoookaaaa!" said Tsuzuki. He hurried grabbing his coat and pie and ran after the boy. They stopped inside the doorway. "How are you getting home?"

"Train."

"What?" Tsuzuki was aghast. "A kid like you cannot ride the train so late. It is unsafe. There are quicker ways to get home."

The waitress had no idea of what could possibly be quicker than a train. Maybe Tsuzuki had a preference for taxis?

"Well, I've been riding the train at night for six weeks. Nothing has happened."

Tsuzuki was still unhappy at the idea, and gasped at how long Hisoka had gotten away with his behavior. "But, trains are always dangerous places for children. Is this some sort of rebellion thing?"

"No, I'm just fine by myself," said Hisoka irately. He began switching the batteries of his CD player as Tsuzuki kept talking.

"Well, now that I know what you do a lot of your evenings, I do not like it, Hisoka."

"I don't care if you like it," Hisoka said to his coat pocket as he searched for earphones. This gave him an excuse not to look at Tsuzuki. "You should've gone bar-hopping or something as you like to instead. Then, you'd have nothing to worry about. Ignorance is bliss and all that."

All of the waitresses were watching now, waiting for a lesson on how to tell a cold, selfish child that he was living a bit too recklessly than safety could allow. The older waitress, though she agreed with Hisoka on most matters, did not like the idea of such a young person as he aboard the train at night. She didn't trust the stations in the dark, and she was an old woman. There were strange people out at those hours. It wasn't safe.

"Let me take you back to your apartment tonight. You can't defend yourself riding that foolish train. I don't like it."

"You keep saying you don't like it, and I have to keep telling you I don't care what you like. Do you or do you not see a pattern here, Tsuzuki-san?" Hisoka said calmly and adjusted his earphones. He appeared to think the conversation was ending. He turned to walk out and bumped into Tsuzuki's arm.

"You're going to miss the train and I'll take you home."

"No, I'm not." Hisoka ducked under Tsuzuki's arm and Tsuzuki tripped him. Without thinking, the waitress hurried forward to see if he was all right. She hovered near the doorway, disliking the man while unwillingly agreeing with him on Hisoka's safety.

"You're not going anywhere, kid. This is just some temporary rebellious streak that's not worth risking your safety for."

"I don't need you to baby-sit me or tell me what to do, baka."

"You have a funny way of proving it, then."

Hisoka glared up from where he was sitting on the ground. His blind fury was no match for the intense expression of concern from Tsuzuki and, he suddenly noticed with a glance in her direction, from the old waitress. He sighed hopelessly and turned on his CD player, refusing to look back at either of them.

"Listen, kid, shutting me out will only make you miss the train. Unless of course, you agree with me." Tsuzuki smiled widely at the idea he'd won, but Hisoka ignored him. For moment, there was only the sound of the CD spinning and a faint hum of music. Finally, Tsuzuki turned in to the doorway and smiled at the waitresses who were staring deadpan back at him.

"Ah, shouldn't you be closing up? It's getting late and you all have to get home safely, too."

The younger waitresses laughed nervously and agreed with him in a flutter of apologies and ordering their co-workers to hurry and lock the windows or clear the sample trays. The older waitress joined the bustle, hurrying into the kitchen and helping the cook clean his counters and utensils. They were closing thirty minute later than usual, which was unheard of and all the fault of the strange man Tsuzuki. He'd disrupted their schedule and eaten the last of their pies. The waitress found this as a good reason to still not like him. She didn't care if he was a saint or a priest, there was something about him that couldn't be trusted. She didn't like the idea of Hisoka with him any better than the kid taking the late train home.

When she found a chance to, the waitress grabbed a broom and began sweeping the dining room. Her goal was to reach the doorway and see if Hisoka and Tsuzuki were still there. It didn't seem likely, they'd had twenty minutes, but she wouldn't be certain until she saw.

The waitress was surprised to see the two still outside. She watched them through the window curiously. Hisoka was standing now, and he and Tsuzuki were close. Tsuzuki was bent over with his hands on the boy's shoulders, speaking something the waitress couldn't hear through the glass. She had just begun to speculate what this could be when Tsuzuki lean forward suddenly and kissed him.

"Ahhhhee!" she screamed. It wasn't just a peck on the cheek; he had the boy's lips and mouth. With single-minded determination to stop this, the waitress armed herself with her broom and rushed outside, waving it in the air threatening and running at Tsuzuki.

"Itai!" the man yelped in surprise as the broom hit him furiously in the back of the neck. He jumped away as the waitress swung around again.

"What do you think you are?" she screamed and attacked again. Tsuzuki cowered away.

"Ah! Stop! You crazy woman! ITAI!"

The broom kept on its assault with a vengeance while the waitress scolded him for his disgusting behavior and promised to kill him for his sick mind. Tsuzuki looked to Hisoka.

"Help me, Hisoka," he pleaded before the broom swung into is knees and knocked him down. For a moment he was sprawled on the ground, and the waitress took the opportunity to pummel him the broom handle.

"She's right," Hisoka said coldly, "you're a sick bastard, Tsuzuki-san."

"What, do you think this is funny? You are heartless," Tsuzuki whimpered. There was the buzz of earphones as Hisoka walked the other direction. "Oi, you can't just leave me here! Hiiiisooookaaaaaa!"

One of the younger waitresses looked outside to see what was causing such a commotion. Her eyes widened at the sight of her co-worker beating the handsome man with her broom.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"Call the police—this man is a sick pedophile."

The younger waitress's eyes widened at this and she hurried inside. A few minutes later, the police arrived. Three officers had to separate the waitress from her broom and keep her from going at Tsuzuki with her feet and fists.

"Tsuzuki-san, you're under arrest."

"Thank God!" the waitress exclaimed before she was handcuffed and led to a separate car.

"I have justifiable cause," she reminded the officers as they took her into custody. "He doesn't."

"Yes ma'am, of course," the officer agreed vaguely. The woman looked over to where Tsuzuki was being led to a separate car and saw he was having a pleasant conversation with his arresting officers. Knowing it was useless, but proceeding anyway, she began to warn the officers again that Tsuzuki was a dangerous pedophile and not to be trusted. As the car pulled away and she was sufficiently disregarded, she saw Hisoka out the window, staring from the other side of the street.

He met her eyes and smiled faintly.

She blamed Tuszuki for that.

Endnote: Well, that sufficiently waste some people's time. :bows: Thank you, I am here all week.

I didn't know how to end this fic until I had to clean the dog kennel downtown. I had a mop and a broom. I decided the idea of a broom worked better here. Mops are too messy and no one deserves to be hit with one, even pedophile!Tsuzuki.

Ling no Yong

(start: 25/11/04 – complete: 5/10/05 – holy crap: I suck…)