2. Sew.
T: In which the warnings remain the same, everything in italics is still flash back and I own only the bits and pieces that aren't canon.
He is still just a little too young to understand why his mother never hugs him, or why his father acts always as though he is not there. He is, however, old enough to know that he loves his mother so very, very much and that she is frightened of his father.
He wants to understand why this is, wants to understand the world he is living in just as much as any child of his age, yet even if he had the words to ask such a thing there is no one he can talk to.
In the still of the night, once the lanterns have been snuffed and the servants have retuned to their own quarters, he prays fervently for a friend. It is such a simple prayer for always he asks only that this friend understand him completely, yet no matter the devotion he gives to the thing…no matter what he offers to the gods…his prayer remains unanswered.
Eventually, at the tender age of five, he comes to the conclusion that there is no god...that he is, indeed, all alone in the world.
The wind shifts, just slightly, and he is very swiftly reminded that they are swiftly heading into winter. He shivers, despite himself and a warm, strong, arm is furling itself about his shoulder.
"You need to invest in a proper winter wardrobe." There is a smile there in his voice and he feels his own lips twitching in a desperate attempt to mirror that expression. Months of desperate training as well as a long engrained stubbornness prevent it from becoming anymore than that twitch and have him pushing himself back into the cold with only a simple,
"You're coddling me again."
Tsuzuki shrugs his shoulders then and he stares a moment at the poetic movement of cloth, muscle and sinew before he directs his eyes far, far away.
"Ah, there's our destination now." Following the line of his partner's finger he finds himself looking at what seems to be an all but desolate hospital.
"It seems a little…obvious…don't you think?"
"Ah that's because the rot's already set in, last year it was considered the best of the best." Tsuzuki remarks before enquiring, "Do you want me to check this place out while you do some asking around?"
The unspoken addition of 'I know how you feel about hospitals' frustrates him both because he little likes to be babied and also because it means he has not guarded himself as well as he had hoped.
Again fuelled by stubbornness he shakes his head, responds, "Two heads are better than one, Tsuzuki," and begins walking again before the other can put any more of a voice towards the concern clear still in his eyes.
The familiar drive of his most basic desire to 'prove himself' boys him enough that, for the first chunk of interviews at least, his mind is as focused as it would be at the start of any other assignment. It is not quite enough, however, to allow him to simply walk onto a working ward as though it is nothing, nor to prevent him from all but running back out into the open air with the flimsiest of cover stories.
It is a further ten minutes before Tsuzuki's weight is there at his side and he is enquiring,
"So do you fancy a trade?"
Of course the other has always been unpredictable at the best of times and, rather than give himself a headache chasing through possible reasons for the elder not chastising or questioning his actions, he simply enquires,
"What are you on about now?"
"A trade," The other responds before adding, "You tell me why someone who was so very eager to die is this uncomfortable around hospitals and I'll let you ask me something about me."
The smile that is there now on the other's lips is an unnerving thing and, all too aware of an awaiting 'landmine', he responds,
"I would have thought it obvious," laughing a suitably derisive laugh, he adds, "They kept me from what I wanted the most and so they make me feel…trapped…"
"Psychologically speaking the most logical response to a feeling of repression would be anger, of course not everyone reacts to trauma in the same fashion and yet even taking that into account your own reaction is…odd." A brief pause then, "What is it that you are so afraid of, Hisoka?"
"My past."
He is certain that if he were having this conversation with one of the other Shinigami they would be more than a little frustrated with what boiled down to poorly camouflaged brush-off and push him for more information. Tsuzuki, however, simply smiles one of his empty little smiles and asks,
"So what would you like to know?"
A thousand questions push at his throat, the desperate, clawing, want to know this man better almost palpable and yet…
He has decided already that it would be better to retain this distance between them, has decided that pulling closer to Tsuzuki would be as risking so much more than his past.
Also…
Also it does not seem fair to ask for something he, himself, was unwilling to give…to make a trade weighted solidly in his favour.
"You need to think less about others and more about yourself, Tsuzuki." He remarks before stepping a little from the other's presence and enquiring, "Who are we talking to next?"
It has been a full minute since his mother had asked to be left alone with him, since she had settled her painfully thin body before him in a prostrate stance.
He is now 15 years old and the years of cold, clinical, care have taken their toll on his curiosity…have taught him that it is better to stay silent…to stay invisible.
Thus he simply stares at the tips of his mother's all but skeletal fingers, waiting, patiently, for her to come to her senses and explain why she has done such a very shameful thing.
He does not have long to wait, for, after but another minute she raises herself back onto her knees and, dusting off her obi, says,
"I wish you to forgive my actions these long years, Katsurou…wish you to forget all that has gone before and look at me again as you did when you were a boy..."
There is a wild look there in her eyes and yet something in him leaps at those words…has him reaching across the divide to take her firmly into his arms.
She feels…brittle... the rhythm of her heart as a wild thing against his own chest and yet…
She feels also warm and soft, the subtle scent of rose that lingers on her skin sparking faint memories that make him feel…safe…
"Mama." The word spills involuntarily from his lips and suddenly he is reminded of how silly this all is…is reminded that he is but a year away from becoming a man and the responsibilities that came with such a role.
He attempts to pull away from her grip and yet, with a strength that should be impossible, she keeps him close.
"Wait a moment more, Katsurou…there is something you have need to hear…"
The subtle pressure of warm, firm, fingers upon his forearm start him from the (memory) nightmare and, without so much as opening his eyes, he enquires,
"Is something wrong, Tsuzuki?"
"You started screaming and I thought it was probably better to wake you before things got any worse and you hurt yourself."
"Thank you." They are such simple words even for him and yet, as he opens his eyes at last, he is greeted by an expression of pure joy.
Mumbling under his breath about childish partners he grabs his towel from its position next to his doorway and makes his way towards the shower.
Once cocooned within the familiar mix of steam and heat he allows his fingers the chance to ghost over his suicide scars.
The ritual is one that he has kept to from his very first assignment and serves to ground him back into reality…serves to remind him that that time has now no influence upon him. Today, however, he is unsettled enough that it does not prove quite enough, that he finds himself constantly clawing for an excuse to touch the markings.
Of course Tsuzuki notices, the weight of those oh so beautiful eyes on him always as his fingers dip beneath the line of his sleeves. Yet it is only once they have stopped to take the smallest of breaks that the other enquires,
"Would it help to talk?"
Guilty still for his choices the day previous he musters what he hopes is a convincing smile and responds,
"Thank you, Tsuzuki, but I think not."
The other remains fixated on him for a few moments more and with a nod of his head, asks,
"Are you drawing the same conclusion from all of this that I am?"
"That the person doing this is someone on the inside?"
"It's a distressing thought but it's the only one that makes any sense when put together with the facts. This hospital is, at best, slip shot and it would be impossible for anyone on the outside to know just when a patient would be completely unattended…also…"
"After the first unusual death the staff would have been more vigilant and would have taken note of a stranger moving around."
"Precisely." There is a look now in his partner's eyes that he recognises well and he states simply,
"You have someone in mind, don't you?"
"The head of paediatrics."
"Because the victims are all under sixteen?"
"That and because of the way the other staff are whenever they're near the area."
"In which case why don't we go pay a visit and see what we can see?"
T: Next chapter ASAP.
