Author's Notes: See chapter one for disclaimer.
Thanks to elusive dreamer, Akii, OliveInk, LillianeDeMalvrier, and eggdrpsoup for reading and reviewing chapter three!
Slow Mend
By Annie-chan
Chapter Four: Some Tea with Your Sugar?
"Well, here we are!" Tsuzuki chimed as he flipped the light switch to the "on" position.
Hisoka blinked in the sudden brightness, his eyes having grown accustomed to the dimmer light of the hallway. The building they were in was nondescript, like the building Hisoka lived in. It was also quiet, though he heard a noise or two coming from behind doors as they passed, the occupants going about their daily business. Though he preferred quiet, sometimes it seemed even to him that his building was almost eerily silent. Either it had particularly thick walls, or not many people were living in it. Hisoka had never bothered to find out.
When his sight returned to him, he took in the scene before him. The living room--and, presumably, the entire apartment--was in a much more traditional style than his own. There was a low table near the center of the room, a seating cushion on each of the four sides. In the far corner of the room was a small shrine, the type that was used to memorialize and pray to ancestors. A sliding door stood on the wall adjacent to the shrine, leading to what Hisoka guessed was the bedroom. Or perhaps it was a storage closet. In traditionally-styled homes like this, it wasn't uncommon that you had to sleep in the main room, storing your bedding away during the day. Against the opposite wall, like in Hisoka's living room, was a TV stand with a modestly-sized television on it, a remote control resting at an angle on the top. Here and there on the walls was a mismatched collection of pictures and wall-hangings, as well as a scattering of knick-knacks on individual shelves that hung at regular intervals. There wasn't any particular "décor" to speak of, but the casual variety in the decorations was something he expected from Tsuzuki. The floor was covered with tatami, and he felt it rustle slightly under his feet as he stepped on it in his socks, his shoes left by the door.
"You like?" Tsuzuki asked as he shut the door behind him. "I don't have visitors often. I hope the place isn't too dusty for you."
"Oh, no," Hisoka replied. "It's nice. I like it." Truth be told, he was a bit surprised. He had half expected Tsuzuki to live in a pigsty, what with the man's reluctance to do boring stuff like paperwork. He would have thought that Tsuzuki shirked at cleaning, too, which was no more exciting or stimulating than filing reports, as well as more physically demanding.
"Good!" Tsuzuki smiled, and Hisoka could easily feel that he was genuinely glad to have someone over. He felt a warm feeling stir in his chest at that thought. After sixteen years of neglect, he felt a small thrill surge through him whenever he perceived that he was wanted and welcome somewhere. Though it had been a couple years now since he took the job of shinigami, that feeling hadn't stopped coming to him whenever the occasion arose. "Go ahead and hang your jacket up on the coat rack there, and have a seat," his partner continued. "I'll get us something to drink." Before Hisoka had a chance to protest, he had disappeared through a door that apparently led to the kitchen.
Hisoka sighed as he sat down at the low table, his jacket hanging on a peg. Tsuzuki could quite literally burn an empty pan, so even something as simple and easy as tea could be toxic coming from him. It was no use refusing, though, as Tsuzuki seemed oblivious to the poisonous nature of his culinary concoctions, and couldn't fathom that anyone else would think them inconsumable.
Several minutes later, Tsuzuki emerged from the kitchen carrying two cups that were indeed filled with tea. Steam rose in thin wisps, and Hisoka noted that the aroma that was also rising from the cups gave no cause for alarm. Sometimes, just the smell of Tsuzuki's cooking was enough to chase one's appetite away.
"Here ya go," Tsuzuki said, setting one down in front of Hisoka. "I hope you don't mind, but I put milk and sugar in it already." True to his word, the color was that of black tea, but drastically lighter. Hisoka suspected that Tsuzuki had put in almost as much milk as tea, and considering the older shinigami's sweet tooth, it was probably sugared to the consistency of jet fuel.
"Thanks," Hisoka said anyway, opting to humor his partner. Tsuzuki was in a genuinely good mood, his empathy told him. Though he had a reputation of being uncaring when it came to the feelings of others, especially his wayward partner, he had no desire to ruin Tsuzuki's cheerfulness tonight. To do so would be downright mean, he thought, and he didn't think of himself as a truly mean person. Just a sharp-tongued one.
Gingerly, as if he expected it to explode, he picked up the cup. It was of traditional design, formed of rippled ceramic with no handle. It was much like the teacups used in the Kurosaki household, and Hisoka unthinkingly adopted the proper way of holding it. Raising it tentatively to his lips, he took a sip.
"How is it?" Tsuzuki asked, watching his smaller partner carefully.
Hisoka seemed to hold the tea in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing, as if testing for poison. "It's drinkable," he finally replied, setting the cup down.
Tsuzuki smiled, satisfied, raising his own cup and downing a third of it in two gulps. He never was one for table manners.
They sat in silence for several moments, just enjoying the peace and quiet. Tsuzuki finished his tea quickly, while Hisoka drank his in measured sips to avoid sugar shock. Occasionally, a sound from the neighbors reached the younger man's ears.
"Do you mind if I look at your shrine?" he suddenly asked, breaking the silence. He had been staring at it for a few minutes, and the small framed picture sitting in it looked a bit like Tsuzuki himself from this distance. But that made no sense. Why would he have his own picture in a family shrine?
"Oh!" Tsuzuki exclaimed, looking back at the shrine in the corner. "Um...yeah, be my guest." He seemed a bit spooked by the question, as if Hisoka had asked something incredibly personal. This puzzled Hisoka even more. After waiting a moment in case Tsuzuki changed his mind, he stood up and moved over to the modest structure. There was only a single sepia-tinted photo standing in it, giving the whole thing a rather lonely appearance.
As he drew closer, he realized that it was not Tsuzuki at all. Not Tsuzuki Asato, that is. It was a young girl, dressed in traditional kimono and holding a parasol. There was a silver plate on the bottom edge of the picture frame, and engraved on the plate was a name.
Tsuzuki Ruka
"Ruka?" Hisoka read aloud, reaching out to pick up the picture. He drew his hand back before he did, however, realizing that it would be disrespectful to the girl it depicted to disturb her shrine. She resembled his partner very closely, a female version of him in almost every respect. She had the same bright smile, the same laughing eyes, the same carefree way of holding herself. The biggest difference Hisoka saw was that her happiness seemed genuine. His partner's, if one looked past its face value, was heavily tainted, and Hisoka had painfully experienced the reason for that just a few weeks ago.
Tsuzuki didn't immediately respond, making Hisoka turn to look back at him.
"Is this your mother?" he asked.
"No," Tsuzuki answered after a short pause. "Not my mother. My sister."
"Oh," was all Hisoka could think to say. Tsuzuki's voice had taken a noticeably somber tone, and he felt a sharp drop in the man's mood. Hisoka was unsure if he wanted to continue with this conversation.
"Neesan was four years older than me," Tsuzuki went on, not waiting for a prompt. "She never married, which was a much bigger deal at that time than now. I remember our parents asking her when she was fifteen why she wasn't letting any of the young men court her. It wasn't that she was failing to attract their attention, or anything. She just had no interest in marriage. That was pretty unusual for a girl in a time when pretty much all a woman of her station had to look forward to in life was a husband and children. I guess it's fair to say that she was several decades ahead of her time, because what she really wanted to do was be a dance teacher. Kaasan and Tousan weren't too thrilled with that idea, as the thought of their daughter working instead of being a proper wife positively horrified them. How would that reflect on the family name?" He finished with a wry smile, recounting the prevailing attitude of his childhood Japan. Though gender roles in the country were still more defined than in some other parts of the world, women had been entering the workforce in record numbers in the past few years.
Hisoka returned to the table, sitting across from Tsuzuki to listen to his story.
"I suppose you know...how people thought of me then," Tsuzuki continued, barely above a whisper. When Hisoka nodded slowly, he went on. "Neesan never saw me that way. She tried to protect me, chasing the other boys away by stamping her feet and threatening to cry, promising to tell the adults that they had been bullying her. She knew that they would be punished for doing that to a girl, so it always worked. I knew that it made me look weak to have to be saved by my sister, but I didn't care. She was the only person who gave me any kindness. She couldn't protect me from everything--there was no way she could be with me every minute--but she did everything she could.
"She always denied anything that was ever said about me being a monster. Whenever she could, she would tell me that everyone was wrong, that my eyes were a rare and beautiful thing to be proud of, not hated or feared. She said that I was as human as anyone, and that my tears proved it. No demon would cry, she said, not with the hurt and loneliness that I cried with. I...I tried to believe her. I loved her, and I tried my hardest to take to heart what she was trying to tell me. But...I just heard so often and from so many people that I was evil, something to be driven away. It was easier to believe everyone else than it was to believe her. I mean, if everyone was saying it, it must be true, right? Even our parents called me a monster, and I probably would have died from neglect if she hadn't been there to take care of me." His voice was trembling, his hands clasped on the table as he spoke.
"Tsuzuki..." Hisoka began, but trailed off when his partner started speaking again.
"Neesan died...when she was just eighteen. It was spring, and she had gone to market to buy flowers. She loved flowers, and wanted some to brighten up the house after a long winter." He paused, drawing in a shaky breath, as if steeling himself for what was next. "I never found out what exactly happened. All I know is they brought her back dead only about half an hour after she had left. I think I remember hearing something about a cart accident--tipping over from too much loaded onto it, or whatever--but I was too much in shock to take in anything that was said." He closed his eyes tightly, bowing his head as he remembered.
Hisoka swallowed, feeling his lower lip tremble. Tsuzuki's emotions were powerful, and they were starting to affect his own. The desire to stop Tsuzuki's story was getting stronger by the minute.
"It felt like everything was falling in on top of me," the older man continued, "and like there was a gaping void beneath my feet at the same time. It was my worst nightmare come true. The one person in the world who didn't hate me was gone, and I had nothing to fall back on, nothing to help me cope. I ran away in a panic before the day was over. I was terrified of what would happen with no one to protect me. I couldn't protect myself. I was too weak. So I just...I just ran until my lungs were burning and my heart was pounding in my ears. I might have finally stopped myself or I might have just collapsed mid-run. I don't know for sure.
"That period in my life...I can't remember a whole lot of it. It's all blurry when I look back. I couldn't even tell you for sure if I lived on the streets the whole time or not. I don't know what I did to survive, and I really don't want to know. Just thinking of the possibilities makes me sick. The bits and pieces I do remember make my blood run cold, and I don't want to remember any more." He paused again, rubbing at his face as if trying to scrub away the unwelcome memories. When he continued, he held his head down, his hands shielding most of his face from Hisoka's sight. "There was a time...it had to have been just before I was hospitalized...the memories aren't blurry, they're fractured. Like a puzzle with its pieces mixed up and half of them missing. They make no sense...no sense at all. But they're all tinted red. I hear screams...smell blood...I hurt people--"
"Tsuzuki, stop," Hisoka cut across him, barely managing to contain the quiver in his voice. A cold feeling had been growing in his gut the entire time Tsuzuki had been talking, but the mention of him hurting people made it suddenly double in intensity. He had heard vague rumors in his time as a shinigami, rumors that Tsuzuki had hurt or maybe even killed many people before his waking coma at the hospital. Those whisperings had unnerved him, and to hear Tsuzuki all but confess that they were true was too much. He wasn't ready to know that about his partner yet. He had to stop this now.
Tsuzuki immediately fell silent at Hisoka's words, as if he had been waiting to be interrupted. He remained hunched over the table, his breathing shallow and shaky.
"Why are you telling me this?" The green-eyed boy stared at his partner, a mixture of confusion and horror swirling in him. Something akin to anger was flickering beneath the surface as well. "Why are you bringing up such painful memories? Why are you hurting yourself like this?" He looked away, folding his arms in a protective gesture. "I...I only asked who she was."
"I don't know," Tsuzuki whispered, and Hisoka could feel that he also was confused, and more than a little frightened that he had spilled it all so readily. "I-I'm sorry, Hisoka. I just--" He snapped his mouth shut when Hisoka sighed. He risked a peek up at his young partner, briefly meeting moody green eyes.
"I'm sorry," Hisoka said quietly. "I didn't mean to sound angry with you. I just don't like seeing you like this. I hate seeing you like this."
Tsuzuki lowered his eyes again, staring down at his empty teacup.
"You're not a monster, Tsuzuki," Hisoka continued. "I've told you and I've told you and I've told you. I just can't--I won't--believe that you're evil or inhuman. You're too selfless for that, too loving."
"I know," Tsuzuki said, rubbing at his eyes. "I know you think that. You've told me so many times, and so did Neesan. I try to believe you two. I really, really do...I try so hard. I just...I just can't forget what everyone else has told me. Please, Hisoka...please, be patient with me. I'm trying my hardest."
Hisoka looked at him silently for a few seconds, as if digesting his words. When he didn't move, the younger shinigami spoke again.
"Your eyes are indeed a very rare color, but it's not unnatural," he began slowly. "It's a variation of the blue-eye gene, not a mark of demonic descent. You should listen to your sister, Tsuzuki. Your eyes are something to be proud of. Very few people can claim to have such unique eyes."
"But," Tsuzuki protested, "people say that it's not a real eye color, that my having purple eyes has to be a sign of unnaturalness."
Hisoka shrugged. "I guess it's so rare that some people don't think it is natural. It's human nature to assume that anomalies are a sign that something's wrong. Albinos were once thought to be inhuman, because of their red eyes and lack of pigment, but now we know it's just a genetic disorder. It used to be thought that tumors were divine punishment for some sin or another, but now we know it's out of control cell division. Purple eyes are the same. You were just unfortunate enough to be born into a time before these things were understood. We know better now. You can't let old superstitions lead you to believe something that's not true, Tsuzuki."
"But...Muraki...he said--"
Tsuzuki was cut off abruptly by Hisoka's fist slamming down on the table. He looked up at his partner in surprise, his eyes widening as he was met with an expression of utter rage. Hisoka was quite visibly displeased that Tsuzuki had brought up the assertions of Muraki, of all people, to argue against him. The thought of Tsuzuki being more willing to believe the mad surgeon than he was his own partner was a kick in the teeth.
The dark-haired shinigami looked down quickly, mortified. He realized too late how much he must have insulted the empath. Insinuating that Muraki was more honest or trustworthy than Hisoka must have been extremely offensive to the honey-blond youth, if not outright infuriating.
Hisoka sighed again, meeting Tsuzuki's eyes when he ventured a look up.
"Speaking of Muraki, you offered me your help in going after him," he said, reining in his indignation. "Now, I'm returning the offer. No, scratch that. I'm not offering, I'm outright telling you. I'll get you to truly believe me--believe your sister--if I have to die a second death to do it, and I'll be damned if I let you beat yourself up over this any longer."
"Hisoka..." Tsuzuki began, then looked down at his empty teacup again, a wavery reflection of his face in the damp bottom. He managed a thin smile, surprising himself when he realized there was actual mirth behind it. "You're just as stubborn as Neesan ever was, y'know?"
"You're damn right I am," Hisoka shot back, though his hostile tone was all an act. Tsuzuki's response almost sounded like a challenge, and Kurosaki Hisoka was never one to back down from a challenge. In fact, it only served to strengthen his resolve.
"Seriously, though," Tsuzuki said, looking back up, "I'm really happy to hear you say that, Hisoka. It means a lot to me."
Hisoka nodded, swallowing the last of his sugar-laden drink. "After all we've gone through together, there's no way I'm giving up on you now."
The late afternoon passed slowly into night. After a few semi-successful attempts to turn the conversation to lighter subjects, they both agreed to just watch some TV. Neither of them wanted to dwell on the sudden downturn of the evening, and finding an engaging TV show held more promise of getting their minds off of it than idle chitchat. However, the TV was soon forgotten in favor of bantering back and forth about the merits and demerits of a certain criminal investigation program.
When Tsuzuki suddenly yawned widely, Hisoka glanced down at his watch, finally realizing just how long he had been there. "I hate to say this, Tsuzuki, but I need to get going. It's getting late, and we have that meeting tomorrow morning with Konoe-kachou and Tatsumi-san."
Tsuzuki groaned, suddenly reminded of the less than thrilling prospect of sitting through a boring meeting first thing in the morning. "Go on, then," he said after a long, dramatic sigh. "Don't let me keep you."
"Thank you for showing me your apartment," Hisoka said as he stood, smoothing out his shirt. "And thank you for the...tea." He honestly wasn't quite sure what to call that overly-sweet stuff Tsuzuki had served to him.
"Oh, no problem!" Tsuzuki smiled, his happy exterior swiftly restored. "Thank you for showing me yours, and for the snack."
"Mmhm," the boy nodded, retrieving his jacket and shoes. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning, then. Get plenty of sleep, as I don't think Kachou will appreciate you snoring over his attempts to speak with us."
"Speak for yourself, Narcolepsy Boy," Tsuzuki huffed. It wasn't unheard of for Hisoka, having stayed up into the wee hours reading, to drop into an almost instantaneous sleep sometime the next day. His feigned indignity almost cracked, however, when he saw a smile stretch Hisoka's lips. It was very brief, and was quickly replaced with the boy's normal closed-off expression, but it definitely had been there. Tsuzuki caught himself thinking that Hisoka looked really cute with a smile on his face.
"Ja mata," Hisoka said with a quick wave, blinking out of sight a second later. He had chosen, not surprisingly, to teleport back home rather than walk in the cold and the dark for half an hour.
"Seeya," Tsuzuki said to the spot Hisoka had occupied. He picked the teacups up from the table as he stood and deposited them in the kitchen sink to be washed tomorrow. Hisoka was right; sleep is what he needed, and the few dishes that were in the sink could stand to wait until the next evening.
On his way through the living room to the bedroom, he stopped at the shrine, looking down at the picture of his sister. It had been taken less than three months before her death. He hoped that she was happy, wherever she was. He sometimes regretted becoming a shinigami, as it prevented him from crossing over and reuniting with her. He had become a shinigami for a purpose, however, and though he wasn't exactly sure what that purpose was yet, he felt he had no place in abandoning it before it was fulfilled.
Stepping closer, he brushed his fingers gently over the glass of the frame.
"Oyasumi," he said softly, bidding her good night. "Oyasumi...Neesan."
To be continued...
Author's Notes: Kah. I practically rewrote this whole chapter, so it took forever to get ready to post. I'm going to be writing new material from this point forward. Hopefully updates won't be too infrequent. Don't be surprised, though, if they are. I'm really bad at that.
Anyway, I hope you all liked this chapter. You could say that Tsuzuki spilled his guts a little too quickly, but Hisoka's going to confront him about it after the meeting with Tatsumi and Konoe. Don't get on my case yet.
