-1A quick note: I realize that my plot right now seems to be mirroring one or two other fics. (OMG! My originality flew out the window!) No, really, I happen to be reading and enjoying two other 'Hisoka loses his memory' fics myself, and I knew when my story started going this way (I really don't know what going to happen until I'm actually writing it) I'd have to be careful not to use other people's ideas. This is just a jump off point, the story is going to go off in another direction soon (I think) and hopefully I'll manage to surprise people again! XD
Enjoy!
Chapter 3
Muraki Kazutaka gazed up into the night sky at the red moon that hung low over the trees. Longing sang through his blood. While he had been suffering from amnesia, his spell had fed him energy, but with the spell terminated, he was back to collecting it for himself. Still, that was no problem. He had already found one, a suitable victim.
He almost wished he could stop this, but the blood moon demanded a sacrifice, and to deny it would weaken him, lessen his powers and life energy, allow him to grow old and meet death before his time.
And as long as he could draw and absorb the psychic and spiritual energy of other people, his death would be a long time coming.
As he approached his intended target he drew a wickedly sharp knife from his pocket. It was one of the items that he kept well hidden whenever he did not have it on him. Although his house-guest had no memory of their first meeting, this knife with the intricate and archaic writing along the blade was something that could possibly spark those memories into returning.
So when not in use, it remained locked away, along with several other things.
Behind his target now, grasping a handful of the hair and wrenching the head back. Drawing the knife along a pale throat, the warm blood that pulsed over his hands.
And the rush, THE RUSH of energy flowing into him, he felt wild laughter bubbling up in his throat, but he contained it.
Dropping the useless husk, he pulled out a handkerchief and cleaned the knife before putting it back in his pocket. Looking down at his now soiled clothing he let out a sound of disgust, why did they always have to bleed so much?
Turning he headed back to his car which was parked not to far away behind a row of trees. From there he would go to a small hotel room nearby where Sakaki would meet him with clean clothes. After changing, he would return home.
Where his doll was waiting…
XXX
Tsuzuki sat at his kitchen table, pure exhaustion keeping him in his seat, he felt as if every part of his body weighed a thousand pounds.
Watari sat across the table watching him closely while Tatsumi had taken it upon himself to cook a meal for the three of them and was currently standing in front of the stove creating a menagerie of temptingly mouth-watering aromas.
"Tsuzuki?"
He looked up to meet worried amber eyes.
"Are you okay?"
Numbly he nodded. "Aa, fine why?"
"'cause Tatsumi's wandering around your kitchen wearing a pink apron that says 'kiss the cook' and you haven't even cracked a grin."
Tsuzuki shrugged. "I hadn't noticed."
Watari reached out and took hold of Tsuzuki's hand. "Don't close down on us okay? We're here for you."
Tsuzuki gave him a feeble smile. "I know, it's just…"
Watari grinned back. "Yeah, we know. But bon's fine, he's strong and can take anything thrown at him, and we will find him in time."
"But right now we need to recoup, eat and get some sleep." Tatsumi said approaching the table with heaping full plates. "We'll never get anything done if you're running on empty."
"Alright." Tsuzuki took a plate from Tatsumi. "By the way, that apron is reeeeeeeally cute on you."
Tatsumi thunked him smartly on the head with a wooden spoon. "That was an unnecessary observation, Watari-san, you're a bad influence on him."
Watari looked offended. "Why would I be the bad influence? Tsuzuki's been around longer than I have! Maybe he's the bad influence on me!"
Tatsumi narrowed his eyes at the blonde scientist. "You have natural talent."
Watari sniffed. "Sure, sweet talk me why don't you?"
Both of them turned their gazes to Tsuzuki who had drifted back into his own thoughts and was haphazardly pushing the food around on his plate. Tatsumi reached over and snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Tsuzuki! Eat!"
"Oh, right." Tsuzuki said and began eat.
XXX
Hisoka was curled up in his tall wingback chair, an open book laying across his lap when Muraki came into the room.
Muraki felt a smile quirk the corner of his mouth as he looked down on the slumbering form. It seems that he still has problems being conscious in my presence. Careful not to wake the youth, he moved the book to the side table and gently lifted his slight weight into his arms.
Hisoka moaned in his sleep but didn't awaken.
Muraki could feel the physical pull caused by the curse carved into the boy's skin. It had been that same physical draw that had attracted his attention to green eyed blonde after his accident, when all he'd known was the inside of a hospital room.
Climbing the stairs he wondered if the boy would have attracted his attention without it. He looked down at the sleeping face. Long lashes closed against pale cheeks, dark blonde strands brushing against skin as fine as porcelain. Piercing emerald eyes that were almost as striking as Tsuzuki's amethysts.
He was sure his doll would have caught his attention regardless, but without the physical bond created by his curse, the possessive feeling he had felt towards his doll may not have developed.
But they did… He told himself, and he remembered how he felt when his doll had taken his hand, had put himself at risk to protect him, had smiled at him, and now, I just want to feel that way again, I didn't think I would ever feel anything like that again, not after…
Hisoka moaned again and Muraki noticed that his grip on him had tightened, and his thoughts were also probably beginning to disturb the bouya's empathy.
He laid the boy in his bed and pulled the sheet over him. Preparing to leave the room, he turned off the light and looked back and something deep inside him, almost forgotten, glowed warm.
XXX
He was wandering through a sakura grove at twilight. The trees were in full bloom and the petals fell like rain around him.
He walked aimlessly amongst the trees, looking for something, but he didn't know what.
A soft sound drew his attention, and he began to follow it. It sounded like someone crying.
Finally he came upon two figures curled up against the base of one of the sakuras. One was bound, there were ropes and chains wrapped around the slender figure, a gag covered his mouth, and heavy iron cuffs adorned his wrists and ankles. He met eyes that full of fear, anger and hurt, it was him…
He was looking at himself!
The other figure looked to be a child of no more than six years old, curled up against the bound copy of him. The tiny head lifted and he found himself looking into his own eyes again, the child was him as well, looking up at him with sad imploring eyes.
"I want to go home."
The words struck a deep and painful chord inside of him. But home was…a horrible place full of hate and anger, home was a place of betrayal and hurt.
"No, not there." The child said softly, tears beginning to trace down his soft cheeks. "I want to go to my home, where I belong."
"Do you…" He choked slightly on the emotions that welled in him, hope raced to the front of them. "know where home is?"
The child sobbed. "No, I can't remember, but he does." The child looked at the bound and gagged form.
He knelt down and started pulling at the chains, fighting the knots on the ropes, but for all his efforts they would not give. He found that he couldn't even loosen the gag. He looked at himself with pleading eyes.
"I want to go home…"
Franticly he tugged at the binds, desperation driving him to keep trying.
Finally exhausted, he collapsed in front his bound self and the child, he tears were now running down his face.
"I want to go home…"
