There are so many things that I should be remembering to say about this chapter but I believe I may be suffering from selective amnesia so I can't tell you the important bits. What I can tell you is that I've been working on this chapter for a long time, writing, re-writing, re-writing again, giving up and banging my head against the desk, re-writing…

If I had writer's block with chapter 3, this was writer's Everest…

Still, what's done is done as they say. A warning here for violence and unanswered questions. Please note that this chapter is not the end of the story, only the end of this particular arc so if there are unanswered questions, I will probably address them in the next couple of chapters.

Disclaimer: Owning things is overrated anyway (pout)

The Kumamoto File - 4

There were a few moments where Tsuzuki was only aware of his own ragged breathing and the blood roaring in his ears. He clutched at his chest, trying to hold in the nausea seeping through his system, his thoughts devolving into unintelligible chaos.

Pictures kept shifting into his eyes, the blood soaked roses outlined by the harsh light of the moon, his partner hanging from the rafters of the half finished medical surgery, his arms covered in dark trails of blood oozing into his shirt sleeves, Muraki's leering face as he stepped forward.

"HISOKA!"

The name forced its way up from his diaphragm and cracked the silence in the construction site like a gun shot. He watched as Hisoka jerked up in response to his name, wide eyes catching his own for a split second they snapped shut against the flood lamp illuminating his body. He watched as the pain etched its way across Hisoka's ashen face as he fell limp again, his chest rising a falling with laboured breathing.

On impulse, Tsuzuki's body lurched forward, his only coherent thought to tear at the shackles keeping his partner prisoner but something held him steadfast against the floor. Horror struck, Tsuzuki glanced down at his feet to stare at his restraints, tiny glowing white threads stitching his feet to the floor.

"Do you like it?" Muraki asked, watching Tsuzuki's expression change with barely concealed passion.

"I call it spell thread. I wouldn't bother trying to remove your shoes," he added as Tsuzuki started pulling at the laces. "The thread is actually connected to a chi gateway in the base of your foot. Do you really think I would be so ignorant? I'm disappointed."

He turned slowly, making a show of walking across the room towards the medical trey ordained with the tools of his profession. He was making sure Tsuzuki realised he was powerless, that he had been rendered useless. Tsuzuki's eyes swam with tears as he glanced over at the prone form of his partner, as he followed the thick trails of blood down the boy's arms, as he took in the discolouration on Hisoka's lips.

"Tsuzuki?"

He could feel Suzaku pushing at his mind, begging him to tell her what was wrong but he couldn't form enough coherence. He knew somewhere deep down that if she felt it was the right course of action, she would emerge unbidden as she had when the girl, Maki, had tried to kill him in Meifu. He knew that, considering they were in such close quarters, the results would be disastrous but he just couldn't bring himself to pull it together, to find some semblance of rationality.

Muraki watched the desolation play out over Tsuzuki's beautiful face and relished in the sparks fluttering through his stomach. There was something momentous about the way it felt to torture his brother's murderer, something fitting about the way this felt like the end. He glanced over at the boy and made some mental calculations about the way his spiritual powers were coping with the constant blood loss. His hands hovered over the surgical tools on display but dropped to pick up an out of place ornamental knife, a present from Oriya.

"I think it's important for you to realise that this is all for you," Muraki told the shinigami before him, running a finger over the length of the blade.

The tears swimming in Tsuzuki's eyes shimmered and fell over his cheeks, dripping from his chin onto the smooth floor below. Muraki let the feeling of satisfaction swell within him as he watched Tsuzuki's eyes deaden, as his expression became haunted, numb. Slowly but surely, Tsuzuki's soul was shattering and as his soul fell away, Muraki could feel his own become bright and vibrant.

The smile on his lips fell naturally into a chuckle as he wove the curse into the knife, creating intricate characters that shadowed the blade, turning it dark with black power. When it was done, he turned and held the knife up to the light so the characters on the blade could cast shadows.

"The curse that I have placed on this blade will insure that I am able to take away your reason for living, just as you took away mine," Muraki whispered darkly.

He turned towards the boy, watching Tsuzuki's eyes which remained fixed on Hisoka's inert form. Slowly, he reached out to the youth, touched the sodden shirt and sighed when Tsuzuki flinched, his hand travelling up to run through his hair. Muraki shifted the shirt up so part of the boy's stomach was exposed and paused at the nostalgic marks glowing violently through his skin.

He dragged the knife up and paused only when the sharp tip pressed against the boy's pale skin.

The knife seemed to cut through Hisoka's semi-state of consciousness. Until now he had been drifting in and out of awareness, here embracing distress as he realised Tsuzuki was there with him, suffering at Muraki's hand and there slipping into a blissful numbness, awake but unable to really care about his situation. Now, Muraki's darkness was seeping into him through the channel of the knife, keeping him from slipping under lest he drown in black intent. Still it was difficult to keep himself apart from the overwhelming feelings, difficult not to be overpowered by emotions that weren't his…

"No! Please, don't!"

Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki was here and that was all that mattered. Tsuzuki would be ripping himself apart from the inside, blaming himself for the actions of a maniac and no matter what, Hisoka had to set him straight. His eyes flickered open and the image of the knife against his exposed stomach blurred. He tried to lift his head, tried to level with Tsuzuki's eyes but he had no strength left for that, instead, he concentrated on forming something coherent, something to make Tsuzuki understand.

"Tsuzuki…"

The hand holding the knife flinched and Hisoka was bombarded by a fresh wave of furious anger. It took all his willpower not fall back into oblivion. He could feel the raw grief from Tsuzuki and tried not to lose himself in his crippling need to cling to the familiarity of Tsuzuki's emotions, choosing instead to focus and tell Tsuzuki what he needed to tell him.

"…not your fault…" he whispered.

Muraki's head whipped back so silver eyes met amethyst. Hisoka whimpered as Muraki's anger spiked and fell under the tsunami. The curse marks on his body seemed to raise and burn more brightly, as if they could burn right through Hisoka's flesh.

The hand holding the knife was starting to shake as he stared at the man before him. Everything seemed to have halted with the boy's words, the downward spiral he had seen manifesting in those amethyst eyes seemed to have died out like an anti-climactic storm. How could this happen? How could those words have such an effect when Muraki knew Tsuzuki's fragile psychological state inside and out? Nothing had ever worked before so why now when he was about to complete his revenge? Why this boy?

"No, it is your fault," Muraki snapped. Tsuzuki drew back as he watched the manicness burst out of Muraki. His pupils were small his eyes were wide, devolving into mad holes before him, a window to the soul. His lips were pulled back over bared teeth and his stance shifted. The composed psychotic doctor that Tsuzuki was familiar with was morphing before his eyes into something animalistic, something nightmarish.

"If it wasn't for you, Saki would still be alive and I wouldn't need to make this pathetic boy suffer, I WOULDN'T NEED TO DESTROY YOU!"

Tsuzuki sensed the pique in tension and knew what it meant.

"NO DON'T!"

The hand holding the knife plunged into Hisoka's side and Hisoka jerked up, brought to sudden brutal consciousness just so he could scream. The sound cut straight through the core of Tsuzuki and ripped him in half. Blood ran free and fast down Hisoka's hip, soaking into his trousers. The curse on the knife bit into his waist and crawled its way up to twine with the other, black on red.

Tsuzuki lost what restraint was left. Suzaku burst forth without the need of the spell to beckon her and the place was aflame. Tsuzuki lost sight of Muraki as he was overcome by the fire of the great phoenix but he couldn't lose sight of Hisoka. As Muraki was absolved in flame, the restraints connecting Tsuzuki's feet to the smooth floor evaporated and he crumpled, falling onto his knees.

He watched as Hisoka coughed up more blood, as he fell limp in torrents of smoke and embers. His heart was in his throat as he crawled forward and the tears slipped silently down his face to mingle with the soot and the smog.

Tatsumi stepped into the little hotel room and staggered, breath hitching in his throat.

"Hey, what's wrong Tatsu-

Watari's hand shot to his mouth as he materialised beside the secretary, the question dying on his lips as he took in the full sight of the room of roses. The patterns splayed on the white petals looked like shadows in the half light of the moon and the glaring neon signs filtering through from the streets below. The blood had already congealed and the flowers had begun to wither as though the strain of carrying human blood was just too much.

Deliberately, Tatsumi stepped over to the little hotel window and opened it wide. Watari tried to breathe, grateful that some fresh air was circulating through this intoxicating mess.

It was a while before the two men could move, Watari's eyes shifting to the silhouette of Tatsumi by the window. The secretary was resolutely staring out into the streets below, afraid somehow that if he turned around, he would catch sight of Tsuzuki in the corner of the room, broken, unseeing, a copy of the man that had attempted suicide in Kyoto.

"We have to find them," Watari offered gently, forcing his way over to the secretary to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Tatsumi didn't say anything, his eyes shielded by the glare of his glasses as they reflected a neon green sign below.

A long pause.

Eventually, Tatsumi pushed the rim of his glasses up his nose and he turned, walking briskly to the entrance of the hotel room, purposefully avoiding a closer look at the sanguine blooms around him.

"Send a message to Kannuki and Terazuma to meet us in the lobby, they cannot teleport here, it would upset Kannuki," Tatsumi told Watari as he opened the door and the room was flooded with artificial light from the hall.

"Understood," Watari confirmed, following Tatsumi out into the hallway. "What are we going to do about that?"

He glanced back at the dark room, a sinister doorway set into Magnolia walls, he would be having nightmares about that door for months.

Tatsumi glanced behind him and followed Watari's gaze to the door. He tried to ignore the increase in his heart rate. If only this wasn't a hotel with many rooms and guests lining the hallway, if only this was some remote place that they could burn and bury so Tsuzuki would never have to revisit this particular chapter of his life again.

"We'll have to send a message back to the Chief, we have no time to deal with it directly," Tatsumi told the scientist as the elevator button clicked beneath his slender fingers.

Watari cocked his head to one side but nodded and set to work sending a message to the bureau as Tatsumi disappeared into the elevator.

He was alone.

The lift started to descend and he fell back against the far wall, his hand against his brow which had creased under the stress. For a moment, he let himself succumb to complete unprofessionalism, his hands and shoulders shaking as he gave himself over to silent throes of sorrow.

Kurosaki's blood on the roses meant guilt in Tsuzuki's eyes. It was too soon, too soon since the incident in Kyoto, how was he to bear witness to any more of Tsuzuki's suffering, a pain that bit deeper than anything else Tatsumi could possibly suffer.

How could it be that for all his quitting to be Tsuzuki's partner, he still had to deal with the emotional backlash of watching Tsuzuki hurt? Oh, that was right…he hadn't been able to quit Tsuzuki completely, hadn't been able to cut himself free. Over the years that had passed, he'd had job offers from many different departments in Meifu boasting higher salaries, less traumatic work…but he had turned them down for his attachment to the purple eyed guardian that would sometimes enter his office at lunch time begging to be treated fairly in regards to sweets or his own docked pay.

Yes, he still had to deal with Tsuzuki's pain but only because he was unable to do anything else.

The lift juddered to a halt and Tatsumi stepped out of it, formal mask back in place. He made a bee line for the little café and ordered a black coffee, taking his order to a little table in the corner where he could stare into its depths undisturbed. He hardly noticed when Watari joined him.

"Wakaba and Terazuma are waiting," the scientist told him softly, touching his arm.

Watari watched as the secretary seemed to come back from somewhere far away to give him an intense look. Watari winced, grimacing back and a whole conversation of communication seemed to pass between the two of them. Tatsumi was the first to stand, leaving his coffee untouched on the shining surface of the table. Watari could do nothing but follow as they made their way around to the main lobby to find Wakaba and Terazuma waiting for them, Wakaba with her eyes closed, already searching for the spiritual traces that would allow her to find Tsuzuki.

"So?" Terazuma asked as Tatsumi stepped forward.

Tatsumi quirked an eyebrow, regarding his fellow co-worker. Terazuma's dark hair was wet, plastered to his head and his hands shook as he brought out a lighter to ignite the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. The butt of the cigarette had been chewed almost beyond recognition, Tatsumi wondered faintly if he would have to give up on that one and pull out another.

"What's going on?" Terazuma continued, crimson eyes alight with anxiety as the cigarette caught.

"Tsuzuki sent us a message earlier today that Muraki had kidnapped Hisoka," Tatsumi began, glancing at Wakaba to make sure he wasn't breaking her concentration.

"Unfortunately we've been unable to send back-up until now because Chief Konoe and the Gushoshin were the only ones in the office. They've spent most of the day calling in the shinigami from their various provinces and cases."

Terazuma nodded mutely, his own call to arms had come whilst he was in the shower. He was so startled by the message that the stress had almost caused him to transform. It had taken all of Wakaba's repressive fuda abilities to keep him under control.

Both men turned their attention suddenly to the shrine maiden sitting in the chair before them as her brow furrowed. Her eyes fell open.

"I've found them," she stated simply. "They're at the Kumamoto General Hospital…Tsuzuki's already called Suzaku."

Tatsumi's blue eyes met Terazuma's crimson.

"Wait here with Kannuki," Tatsumi ordered, placing his hand on Watari's shoulder. "I need you to keep the Chief updated on the situation as Watari and I try to extract Tsuzuki and Kurosaki from the situation. In the event that our spiritual signatures waver, you are to step in albeit with the utmost caution."

As Tatsumi made to move himself and Watari between locations, he felt a soft hand on his sleeve and a gentle tug. He glanced down into Wakaba's anxious eyes.

"Tatsumi…Hisoka's spiritual signature…it's fluctuating…I really don't know if there's anything we can do if…"

Tatsumi tried to ignore the pounding of his heart, the tightening of his lungs, the spots breaking over his vision in a wave. He kept his professional face in place as Wakaba let go but couldn't bring himself to say anything as he and Watari disappeared.

The smog, the ash, the burning building…why did it always have to end in fire?

He kept his eyes fixed on the blurring form of Hisoka as he struggled forward, masking his face from the acrid smell of burning medical equipment. Suzaku circled high above him, the burning bird lashing out at the building and forcing its foundations to crumble around him. She kept the debris from crushing him as he progressed, obliterating it all until he was close enough to teleport to his partner's side.

The close up view of Muraki's destruction almost had Tsuzuki vomiting onto the scorched floor. In all his years at the Bureau and with everything he had seen, he never had gotten used to seeing his loved ones tortured.

He could feel the stirring of memory as he forced himself to look at the gaping gash in Hisoka's side, at the emptiness in that unconscious face. This wasn't unlike what had happened to his sister…

He reached up, hand trembling, to brush a sticky strand of hair from Hisoka's face and tried to concentrate on the shackles still binding his partner's wrists, still linking him to the crumbling foundations.

Muraki had picked his prison well. The chain connecting the shackles to the rafters was bolted into one of the support beams, the sturdiest parts of the building. He couldn't hope to wait until the rafters burnt and he couldn't hope to pull the bolt to release the chain. He would have to remove the shackles from Hisoka's wrists completely.

They were heavy set and sharp. Hopelessness squirmed within Tsuzuki's stomach as he started to realise that without a key, he would only be harming Hisoka further by trying to free him, by opening new wounds on his already battered wrists.

He gave up on the shackles, focussing his attention on the wound instead, the slice that seemed to have driven straight into the very centre of the youth. The blood still bubbling up was dark and deadly. Tsuzuki wasted no time ripping part of his shirt and using it to try and staunch the blood flow. It was difficult to keep the necessary pressure on the wound when Hisoka was still hanging high above the ground.

There was nothing else for Tsuzuki to do except wait for the world to be completely levelled in flame.

Gently, he pressed his forehead against his partner's and tried to contain the sorrow welling up inside him. Images came unbidden to the forefront of his mind, locked in reels of Touda's flame in Muraki's previous lab. He fought the memory of the desolation.

"Can't you move? I'm coming!"

Hisoka's voice merely served as a distraction and though he knew the boy was in a dangerous situation, crouching before him in the flames of hell, he just couldn't bring himself to save him. Perhaps, in some small selfish way, he wanted to take Hisoka with him…and maybe that small selfish piece of himself was all he needed to try and define himself.

A monster, he was a monster that had attached itself to something tainted because he stupidly thought that he could help to purify the marks left behind and validate his own existence in the process.

A monster…

Why had he told Hisoka that their partnership might not work? Why had he failed to protect the boy from his own unfinished business? Why was it always his fault?

"Tsuzuki?"

He started and eyes hot with tears flashed upwards, meeting the dull green of Hisoka's as he fought to remain conscious. It was a colossal effort to remain awake. Although Hisoka's eyes were on him, they kept rolling back as he slipped beneath dark waves of unawareness.

"Hisoka!" Tsuzuki gasped, unable to contain a few of the racking sobs that made his whole body convulse.

Hisoka was only able to grasp two things during his flashes of consciousness, that his side seemed to be on fire but the fire was cold and painful and that Tsuzuki was crying. He tried to ignore the pain though it was all but unbearable and concentrate on Tsuzuki. He had been so close to death before that he recognised the coldness intermingling with the pain as a sign of the end and he needed Tsuzuki to be free of the guilt that he knew would haunt his hard headed partner.

A million things Tsuzuki wanted to say, a million ways to say them but all he could think to get out through the thickness in his throat as the tears fell freely was:

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

The flickering smile that answered this shocked Tsuzuki. For a moment, Hisoka's eyes were bright through the blood and through the flame as he caught Tsuzuki's gaze.

"Shut up, idiot."

The smile fell away from Hisoka's face, the shadows around his eyes became as dark as ink. Tsuzuki watched, terrified as Hisoka sunk back into oblivion, his breathing laboured and loud.

Tatsumi and Watari materialised in a dark alleyway separating a couple of the hospital buildings. The bright orange glow and torrents of black smog alerted them to the direction they needed to take and they wasted no time sprinting forward. Along the way they were joined by the necessary people, policemen, fire men and doctors launching themselves from the nearby buildings to help anybody that might be hurt. Tatsumi tried not to listen as comments and commands were shouted back and forth across the competent crowd.

Were there any men working on the site?

Where did the fire start from?

Head back towards the main gate and contain any civilians!

The shell of the building loomed before them obscured by orange flame. Through the light, Tatsumi could only make out the general shape, noting where the windows were reflecting in the blaze. He tried not to let the stress of the situation overwhelm him.

"Watari," he muttered after a while. Beside him, the scientist stood with him mouth hanging open in horror. They hadn't seen fire like this since Touda and the flames were so bright. Since when was Suzaku this out of control?

"I need to get close enough to send in my shadow," Tatsumi was saying, edging forward, trying not to catch the attention of the policemen. In his work suit, he looked just like a civilian or even worse, a journalist intent on getting an inside scoop for the local paper. Watari, in his pristine lab coat, could have passed for a doctor.

"We'll perform the same manoeuvre we used in Kyoto," he told the scientist.

Watari didn't need any further instruction. He took Tatsumi's arm and tried to arrange his features into a professional expression. He marched forward, taking Tatsumi's arm. As they moved on, a couple of policemen and doctors glanced up but they simply assumed the Watari was doing his job with a survivor or a witness that had gotten too close.

Once they were close enough to feel the edge of the choking heat, Tatsumi released his shadow and welcomed the extension of his senses, searching for a trace of Tsuzuki or Hisoka. It was painstaking work and every time Tatsumi started to panic that he wouldn't find them, his shadow faltered.

"Keep it together," Watari whispered encouragingly and somehow, Watari's presence beside him made it easier to stay sane.

Eventually, he found them, clinging to life in the centre of the inferno in a ground floor half constructed surgical theatre. He almost recoiled as he touched Tsuzuki's quivering spirit and almost sent in another shadow when he could barely detect Hisoka. Wasting no time, he encompassed them and dragged them down into the dark, letting Watari lead him back to the shadowed alley so he could release the two from the other world.

They emerged smoking, almost burnt to cinders. Tsuzuki was coughing and whimpering but Tatsumi couldn't stop the flood of relief. His suicidal former partner was alive, singed but alive.

But then he saw the way that Tsuzuki was cradling Hisoka, how Hisoka remained limp on the ground before them, how they were both covered in dark, burning blood.

"Bon!" Watari shouted from somewhere far away, falling to his knees beside the secretary in slow motion to start urgent medical work on the wreck that was once the stoic youth the Bureau had become so fond off.

"Tsuzuki, I need you to let him go," Watari was barking at Tsuzuki.

Tatsumi's heart was pounding in his ears as he watched Tsuzuki violently shake his head and clutch Hisoka tighter to his body.

"I CAN'T HELP HIM IF YOU'RE COVERING HIM LIKE THAT!" Watari yelled urgently. There was no room to be gentle here, no room for soothing words.

Tatsumi snapped into clinical action. In a minute, he was crouched beside Tsuzuki, gently prying his fingers from the boy's frame.

Tsuzuki started to protest in unintelligible croaks but Tatsumi knew exactly how to handle him, how to not say anything as he looked him in the eye. Eventually, Tsuzuki stopped resisting, going limp in Tatsumi's arms as Tatsumi pulled him away.

Tsuzuki kept his eyes on his partner's ashen face until spots overtook his vision and he himself fell beneath dark waves.

The first things he noticed were the blinds, drawn but still letting through the cracks of neon that filtered in from the streets of Kumamoto below. He waited as his eyes adjusted to the dark, feeling through the sheets for the form of his partner beside him but instead of finding Hisoka's steady warmth, his hand brushed something velvet soft and ruffled.

He frowned and glanced over, gasping as he caught sight of the white rose stained dark by the blood that Muraki had spilt. His eyes were glued to the sadistic flower so he only noticed the figure above him when a dark drip fell onto the petals, spreading over the bloom.

As though pulled by an invisible, horrifying force, Tsuzuki's eyes snaked upwards until he was looking into the empty glass eyes of his partner.

Tsuzuki shot out of bed and tried to reach up to disentangle the youth from his restraints but Hisoka was jerked out of reach by Muraki, larger than life and sneering as Tsuzuki tried to climb the walls of the hotel room.

"It is your fault!" Muraki bellowed, manipulating Hisoka's body using the boy's restraints like puppet strings.

"AH!"

Tsuzuki jolted awake and flew up, breathing heavily. His eyes darted about the little room, wide and unseeing until his heart rate calmed and he was able to absorb what he was seeing. A frown immediately replaced the shocked expression on his face.

Where was he? Where was Muraki? Where was Hisoka?

He was sitting in a familiar white wash room with familiar white wash walls. To his right was a low set window which had been left open just a crack. A light breeze was wafting around the room, diluting the scent of disinfectant so poignant in the infirmary. Outside, he could make out the weathered shapes of the sakura trees as they continued to release their blooms.

So he was back in Meifu. Somehow this didn't make him feel any better. His mind was awhirl with questions and he had a pounding headache settling in behind his eyes.

Just what had happened?

He had to find out what had happened to Hisoka.

He started struggling with the crisp sheets draped over his legs but only managed to get himself further entangled. For some reason, his hands didn't seem to be working properly, they were stiff and clumsy. In frustration, he gave up and glanced over at the figure occupying the next bed.

His heart jumped into his throat and a tsunami of nausea threatened to drag him back into the world of nightmares. He fought the sensation, gripping the sheets in white-knuckled fists. His eyes remained glued to the slight form in the next bed.

Hisoka's skin was almost as white as the sheets he was laying beneath but there was a distinct yellowish tint that was offset against the white and marked him out. The purple bruises beneath his eyes were black and heavy, almost ingrained into the skin. The mop of hair that Tsuzuki could see was dull and limp but he was alive and he was looking at him with hazy green eyes.

Tsuzuki's heart swelled with not entirely friendly emotions. Too fast, this was all happening too fast. There was so much of the story missing, too much…was he dreaming? Or had he moved on with Hisoka in the convergence of Suzaku's flames.

"Hey Tsuzuki," Hisoka said and to Tsuzuki's immediate disbelief, the boy smiled a natural smile, one that spread across his face without the requirement of premeditation.

Now he knew he must be dreaming. Somehow, that smile and the way it lit up Hisoka's face etched itself deep into Tsuzuki's heart and stirred something akin to yearning.

"Hey Hisoka, how are you feeling?" Tsuzuki asked softly, ignoring the headache tugging at the edges of his temples as he managed to climb out of bed and kneel by Hisoka's bedside so their faces were close. As he came closer, his eyes automatically ran down Hisoka's bandaged arms, lingering on the syringe nestled deep in the folds of white fabric near Hisoka's ruined wrists.

Ah, that explained the smile.

The smile was replaced by a struggling frown as Hisoka tried to muster the mental capacity to do a damage relay.

"Mmm…not that great," he admitted, moving sluggishly so he was facing Tsuzuki. "Watari said I lost a lot of blood and I'll be anaemic for a while."

It was easy for him to recite the scientist's words, easier than collecting his thoughts long enough to find what he needed to say to Tsuzuki though he vaguely remembered that it was all very important.

There was a thought wriggling just out of reach, like a koi carp flashing orange and white in the murky depths of a pond.

"I think you're an idiot," Hisoka muttered thoughtfully. "But I can't remember why."

Tsuzuki blinked at his young partner and let a small smile grace his features. Hisoka was still Hisoka…even in the midst of a drug induced haze.

Tatsumi Seiichirou, secretary for the summons division of Enmacho, placed the ball point pen neatly on top of the paperwork for the recent Kumamoto file and sighed the sigh of the much put upon, drumming his fingers on his cluttered desk.

"Struggling?" A wizened voice asked from across the room as the Chief glanced up, his sharp eyes rimmed with the uncharacteristic grey of sleep deprivation.

"A little yes," Tatsumi admitted. "Although we were able to bring in Takahata's soul without further delay, I'm missing some crucial information."

He picked up the file and held it up, re-reading his work.

"This could be one of Tsuzuki's submissions," he huffed, angrily, throwing the folder down again.

The Chief chuckled and leant back in his chair, watching the other man.

"Well, as Tsuzuki was on that particular case, there won't be much in the way of a quality drop."

Tatsumi regarded the man out of stressed blue eyes.

"You say that but Tsuzuki normally has Kurosaki go over his paperwork before he hands it in."

"There must have been quite an improvement when that young man joined," the Chief said light heartedly but Tatsumi's face seemed to darken.

It was true that the quality of the paperwork in the Bureau had dramatically improved since the arrival of the acerbic young man, at least where the Kyushu province was concerned. He moved over to the file and pulled out Watari's medical report, skimming through the words he already knew by heart.

"How are they?" The Chief asked, sensing Tatsumi's fluctuating mood.

Tatsumi paused, lingering on the paragraphs outlining their conditions. Tsuzuki only needed a sentence or two, diagnosis, recommendation, prescription, done; but he had gone into much more depth where the boy was concerned.

Hisoka had suffered an intangible amount of blood loss and as a result, his regenerative abilities had been taxed beyond measure. Watari was unable to dig up anything on the new parasitic curse mark intertwining with the marks already staining Hisoka's skin but the immediate effect seemed to be a slowing of regenerative abilities. The side effects included a need for two blood transfusions and tendency to anaemia which would remain until his blood levels registered as normal.

Inevitably, Muraki hadn't succeeded in murdering Hisoka again, but he had been close.

"Tsuzuki should be back in a few days but it'll be a while before Kurosaki returns to work," Tatsumi told the Chief and closed the file with a flick of his thumb.

Reviews are the substance of Hisoka's library.