Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei. And I'm sad.
A/N: Many thanks for the encouraging words everyone! I say it again and again, I love your support! I hope I can deliver in the coming chapters ahead as my goal is always to get the point across of Muraki and Tsuzuki's growing relationship. All I care about is the romance and the angst between the two and as such I may not adequately fulfill the action sequences. That said, if I'm lacking in some areas let me know. But be kind! I'm sensitive. That said: Enjoy!
KAZUTAKA!!
NOOOOOO!! DON'T LEAVE ME!!
KAZUTAKA!!
Muraki woke with a start.
A nightmare. That's all. But it seemed so real.
Silver eyes blurred, he blinked several times and slowly brought his hand to his face to rub them groaning softly at the effort. His limbs felt incredibly strained. Why was that? His brain registered bit by bit his immediate surroundings. Laying on his stomach, a soft mattress, a blanket pulled up to his waist, a dark piece of furniture in his line of vision, spots of sunlight on the wall, no discernible sounds to make out. His head throbbed as he turned over onto his back, wincing at the effort.
Where am I?
Rubbing his eyes, he turned his head to the other side. Large French windows, drapes slightly open. And an empty space beside him.
"Beloved?"
The doctor waited but didn't hear his lover's answer. Sitting up again he groaned. Why did his muscles ache so much? The room looked similar only the furniture's placement was a little different. In fact, the furniture itself was quite ornate, to the point of being ostentatious. The color scheme was darker, burgundy, mauve with touches of grey. Perplexed, he swung himself out of bed reaching for the yukata that was draped over a nearby chair, frowning.
What's going on? Why is the room so different?
"Asato?"
Wait. Muraki cradled his hand to his forehead which was slightly throbbing and thought hard. Something has happened. Something bad.
"Asato!"
He stumbled in his haste to find his lover, desperate to see that cherished face. Feeling disoriented, he crossed the bedroom, going to each room in the house; living room, dining room, kitchen, calling for Tsuzuki. But no answer, only his voice echoing throughout. This wasn't home. It had the same layout; the living room with the marble fireplace on the left, the bay window on the right, the kitchen's table situated off to the far right. But the appliances, the types of furniture were different. This interior, this house, this universe was out of kilter.
"ASATO!!"
His dark-haired lover wasn't here. The pale blonde sank to his knees on the carpeted floor in the living room gathering his bearings. Wait. More memories were hitting him hard and fast. He closed his eyes, breathing hard, trying to recall. He was summoned. Right in front of Tsuzuki. More images came, vivid and horrible; the barrier, the sound of his lover screaming his name in panic, distress, all-encompassing rage.
KAZUTAKA!! DON'T LEAVE ME!!
Eyes wide, the doctor clamped his hand over his mouth, suddenly sick. Sudden tears blurred his vision as he bit the palm of his hand, almost drawing blood. He last saw Tsuzuki screaming, so terrified, the sheer panic on his face, his beloved reaching out for him in desperation. And there was nothing he could do, his spells failed, his powers unable to breach the barrier.
"ASATO!!"
Muraki was shaking from head to foot, physically rocked. Why is this happening?! What is happening!?
For several minutes the pale blonde hyperventilated, struggling hard to level his breathing.
"Why is this happening?" he whispered again and again, tears falling onto the carpet. He was separated from Tsuzuki. The realization of that rolled over Muraki in waves, tipping his sense of balance. Grabbing the woolen fibers of the thick rug, he clawed at it with both hands, ripping the thick nap.
NONONONONONONONONONO!!!
The universe hated him. That was the only explanation he could fathom as to why his life was torn into so many pieces. His life had been perfect, heaven on earth. And being with Tsuzuki was a miracle. His miracle. And having such a miracle enter his life and fill it with unexpected joy and comfort and contentment...And to have it end so abruptly, so cruelly.
This was a punishment. That was it. For all the souls he took when he was mad with revenge and hatred, killing wantonly.
No! He wouldn't accept that. He would pay for his crimes, he knew and accepted that. But not now! Not when there was so much love overflowing in his life, not when the man he had waited so long for and fought so hard for and adored beyond reason and who returned his love wholeheartedly.
Muraki looked up, his face damp, silver eyes flashing dangerously, the muscles in his jaw rigid. He looked animalistic in his rage, the desire to kill rising inside him.
Whoever DARES do this...Whoever DARES separate me from my beloved WILL PAY.
It took many minutes for Muraki to gather his senses back. All he felt was violence and destruction. To calm his pounding heart, slow his breathing, get his focus back to the matter at hand, he set his mind on Tsuzuki's face. His beloved's beautiful face. Restraining his emotions took an enormous amount of discipline. Years of training came into practice now as the pale blonde consciously made such a tremendous effort.
Finally, when his thoughts seemed to be more coherent he assessed his predicament. He was kidnapped and brought here that much was obvious. But why? and where was here exactly? Was this another part of town? Was he still in Tokyo, much less Japan? Was this an alternate universe? Was his lover all right? Was Tsuzuki looking for him?
What to do now? He needed to find out where he was. With that objective, he got up stiffly and walked back to the bedroom straight to the closet but stopped short. Another thought struck him. Who had put him bed? With a shudder he realized a person or perhaps several had put their hands on his naked body while he was unconscious. He quickly dismissed it and opened the amoire. The less thought about it, the better.
There were rows and rows of clothes that looked quite expensive. He pulled out a suit and noted with surprise it looked as something similar to what he owned. Rummaging through each article it seemed all things looked similar in style, color, size to what he owned. Expensive leather shoes in his size; silk ties, socks, dress shirts, underwear, even a white fur-collared coat; everything looking very similar to his closet back home. He spotted the amoire on the other wall and went over to it, throwing open the doors. More clothes. But he could tell right away it was not Tsuzuki's. Different style altogether from his lover's usual taste. And Tsuzuki's dark trench which hung on the door peg was replaced by a brown wool coat. He checked the label sizes, frowning. Just one size smaller than his. Tsuzuki was two sometimes three sizes smaller so this definitely wasn't Tsuzuki's wardrobe.
If it was not Tsuzuki's then it was this "other" being.
With hands shaking, Muraki yanked every article of clothing from its hanger, heaping it on the floor. Leaving the door wide he went to the dresser beside it and did the same, dumping everything. What he really wanted to do was set fire to it but he just managed to refrain himself.
Afterward, his mouth set in a grim line, he walked back to the first amoire and picked out underwear, slacks, shirt and shoes. They fit perfectly. At the nightstand his watch and glasses were set there. He picked them up carefully, looking for any difference and seeing none slipped them both back on.
Time to assess the house.
His clipped rapid gait was the only outward sign of the rage and frustration boiling within the pale blonde as he walked into the living. He was livid, no question, but it was imperative not to give in to that feeling, much as he wanted to. His first impulse was to destroy, to lay waste this prison, burn it, obliterate it. He stopped. Yes. It was very tempting to give in. But...
Asato
It was the thought of his beloved that stayed his hand. If he had any hope of seeing Tsuzuki again, he had to remain calm, clear-headed. See where he was exactly, get an idea of how serious the situation was. Muraki shook his head. Just being apart from Tsuzuki was serious enough. It couldn't get any more serious than that as far as he was concerned.
Asato
Was he all right? It was a question he would be asking himself repeatedly until next he saw his beautiful lover. And he would see him again. Physically he knew Tsuzuki's immortal body would heal whatever wounds were inflicted. But, emotionally...that was a different matter. His violet-eyed lover was gentle and tender-hearted, his emotions ran close to the surface. A word, a gesture however subtle, good or ill, would affect the guardian deeply. It was one of the many qualities the guardian possessed that endeared Muraki to him. His Tsuzuki must be suffering so.
I failed him.
The realization of that statement hit Muraki hard causing him to sink to the floor again as though kicked in the gut.
I failed to protect him. He's suffering because of me.
For several minutes, despair and self-loathing seeped into Muraki's being, he pressed a shaky hand to his eyes only thinking of how distressed and upset his lover must be. Tsuzuki must be frantic. And it was all because of his incompetence.
Forgive me, Asato, please! I should have chanted the spells sooner, I should have fought harder. I vowed to protect you and I failed and there's no excuse.
Minutes ticked by and Muraki didn't move. All he could think of was Tsuzuki, distraught and abandoned, violet eyes full of tears. He had a mind's eye view of Tsuzuki's lean body crumpled on their wide bed, sobbing. Slowly, he looked up and made another promise, one that he swore to keep.
I will see you again, Asato! I'll find a way to get back to you.
Repeating this several times, Muraki stood up and with new determination explored his prison.
There seemed to be nothing extraordinary of the rooms. A living room; dining room; baths and bedrooms. Each room comfortable but yet the furniture not to Muraki's taste. Too ornate, the wood too dark, the posts heavy and thick.
Muraki opened the stainless steel refrigerator and found it full of food; meat, fruits, vegetables, eggs, juice, all fresh as though bought just that morning. Picking up one of the containers he noted it was a gourmet delicacy and quite expensive. Walking slowly around the vast kitchen he strained to find anything out of the ordinary. Anything that shouldn't be there. Or should. In the cupboards were pantry items; cans, jars, dried goods. The drawers held utensils, but no knives.
Frowning at that, he next went to check if the oven and stove were plugged in. Yes, they were. Wasn't this entity afraid he'd burn the house down or stick his head in the oven? And as far as the appliances went all were sleek and shiny, brand new.
The bathroom consisted of a large sunken tub; two sinks, white fluffy towels, large picture window to show a view of the lush trees while bathing. And two medicine cabinets. One of them held toothpaste, shampoo, soap, deodorant, cologne, all in his brand and unopened. In the other, the same inventory but different brands. This entity's brands. Muraki promptly dumped the bottles and jars into the sink, glass breaking everywhere, the strong odor of different fragrances heavy in the air. With a satisfied smirk, he left the room.
Walking through hallways, study, living room he took note of several differences. The layout may have been similar but upon closer inspection, the decor was too cluttered. Rows and rows of bric-a-brac made up of ceramic birds and flowers and figurines and vases filled some of the shelves. Also, there were no living things. No house plants or flowers. Tsuzuki filled their home with fresh flowers in each room, cut straight from the garden in spring and summer; and in winter, delivered from the florist. There was nothing green and growing here.
Opening the French doors to the balcony, the long shadows and sinking sun startled him. Is it that late? The day was passing and he didn't make any progress. Nothing to give him a lead as to where he was. In the garden, again, almost the same placement of trees and flowers, even the little shrine at the far right next to a small stream. But it was the wrong season for green trees and colorful flowers. It was the middle of winter but the air was balmy and the garden thriving. Going to a small rose bush, Muraki bent his silver head pushing his nose against the velvet petals. No scent. Trying another variety of flower he realized it was the same thing. Absolutely no scent.
Was he dead? Was this Hades? All these beautiful plants and flowers and they gave no smell. As though they were facsimiles.
He pushed opened the gate walking out to the sidewalk. Rows of trees on either side of the street he observed. His footsteps were the only sound along this eerie street. Muraki slowly walked turning his head this way and that. He didn't catch a glimpse of anyone. Or cars or sounds of the neighborhood for that matter. What about the town? Was there one here?
He continued to walk about a hundred feet down when he felt it. That same electrical charge.
The barrier!
Muraki put his hands out feeling alongside the perimeter. It was warm and tingly against the palms of his hands and each time he tried to push against it, it held fast, the electrical current going up considerably. Closing his eyes, he chanted a string of spells, the same ones as before, reading far back into his memory for any that he may have missed. But no give. Nothing. How far did the barrier run? Muraki walked along with it with one hand outstretched, feeling his way around and murmuring spells all the while. Finally, he made his way back his starting point, the front of the house. There was no give, no wavering of any kind during his trek.
Dammit!
Going back to the house, he went back in slamming the front door, allowing himself that display of anger. Now he mentally listed what he found out so far. A refrigerator and pantry stocked with food; a closet full of clothes in his size, next to another closet full of clothes that were someone else's; a medicine cabinet filled with his brand of toiletries next to another medicine cabinet filled with someone else's brand of toiletries. Furniture, paintings, sculptures, not to his taste. No phone or television or radio or computer. No connection to the outside world and a barrier a hundred feet around the residence. Not to mention another's belongings stored in the closets and cabinets.
Why was he here?
Someone apparently went to a great deal of trouble to find out his specific taste in clothes, food, grooming aids. And the books and medical journals stacked in the study were some of the same titles that he owned. What was going on? Why go to all this trouble if someone intended to do him harm? The thought of a past enemy exacting their revenge crossed his mind. But if that were the case, wouldn't he have been brought to a dungeon or dank cell or torture chamber? Not necessarily, if he thought about it. Perhaps he was being lulled into a false sense of security. Perhaps this was to be his prison, a comfortable, accommodating house with no companionship. But why the extra set of clothing and toiletries?
And then there was no Asato. That would be a million times worse than any torture chamber. For now, it was unknown if he would ever be free and see his beloved again.
How long would it be until his abductor made himself known? How long would he be made to wait? Until the food ran out? Until he slowly driven mad? A sudden, horrible image of himself; dirty, disheveled and starving, babbling in a corner.
Get a hold of yourself!
It would come sooner than he realized if he continued that train of thinking. He needed something else to focus on.
Asato
The house was so quiet. The stillness unnerving.
Asato
He would focus on the violet-eyed man. He settled into the overstuffed leather chair in the living room and filled his mind with pictures of his Tsuzuki. What was he doing right now? Was he safe? Were his friends comforting him?
A sudden flash of Tatsumi holding Tsuzuki in his arms, his lover's dark head laying on the secretary chest jolted Muraki. No, he groaned. It was bad enough to be separated from his lover but to imagine Tsuzuki with that secretary will only make it worse!
No. Only focus on Tsuzuki. Focus on those beautiful violet eyes. The way those violet eyes twinkled mischievously when he was telling a joke or shimmered like precious amethysts in the light of the full moon. Or when they danced happily in quiet joy.
And Tsuzuki's smile. A smile that lit that already beautiful face into a sight even more radiant to behold. Muraki couldn't help his own smile from forming. He could be facing death at any moment, but right now all he do was smile and see his lover's face.
Asato
Settling into the soft chair, more images followed.
Tsuzuki sitting across from him at the breakfast table munching on a piece of toast and going over his work schedule for that day; Tsuzuki relating a joke told to him by Watari, laughing hysterically at the punchline and laughing even harder when he noticed Muraki's puzzled expression; Tsuzuki dressed elegantly in a black tuxedo ready to go out for the evening; Tsuzuki lounging naked and flushed with desire across their large bed, his arms stretching out, whispering Muraki's name.
Minutes turned into an hour then two. Muraki would have sat longer but for the growling of his stomach in need of sustenance. Scowling, he refused to be dictated to and returned to his musings. But it was not to be. His belly continued to rumble and with a irritated sigh, he got up and walked to the kitchen. However, upon opening the refrigerator he hesitated. What if it were poison or drugged? Picking up a piece of fruit he brought it to his nose. It didn't smell any different. He went in search of a knife but found none. Only spoons and forks. Perhaps to keep him from using a knife against his kidnapper or himself they were hid from him. He stared at the seemingly innocent rosy peach for several minutes, debating. His stomach was growling unbearably and weakened his resolve a bit. He needed his strength to face whatever lay ahead.
He took a chance and bit into the fleshy peach. The sweet juice burst into his mouth, reminding him of Tsuzuki.
Everything reminds me of my Asato, he mused sadly.
If it were poison he surely would have felt the effects by now. Or, he thought with a ruefully, a slow-acting poison. Well, if it was...after a couple of minutes, he took another bite and another, finishing it and tossed it in the sink. He debated whether or not to cook and decided against it. He didn't want it to appear as though he were making himself comfortable. Feeling that it was enough he went back to the leather chair. Closing his eyes, he thought of his beloved.
Asato? Are you all right? Please be all right. I'll come back to you, I swear. Take care of yourself in the meanwhile. Sleep, eat well. I love you so much, beloved. You know this, don't you?
Muraki continued, it was his way of remaining calm, this inner dialog to his lover.
I'm all right, beloved. Physically, I'm unharmed. But...this situation...I don't know where I am. I'm alone at present. No sign of another. I'm in a house that is much like ours, but there are no others. However, there is a closet full of someone else's clothes. Someone has stocked this place with an abundance of food and the bathroom with toiletries...all in my brand. And the garden...much like our own, down to the small shrine by a stream. But the vegetation is artificial. And the same barrier that separated us is several hundred feet around this prison. I will work on breaking it. No phone, no computer. As if yet, no way to reach you. So I'm attempting it this way.
Muraki bit his pale lip.
Asato...I'm...I'm sorry!
The doctor's throat constricted, the lump thick. He swallowed hard.
I'm sorry. I failed you. I should have fought harder, done more...anything!...To reach you even if it meant forfeiting my own life. Forgive me.
Muraki sighed deeply.
This place...it's similar and it's not. Similar in layout, in rooms. But the furnishings are different, more garish. There are no personal touches, not like our home. Your flowers, your pictures, your clothes draped on the chair and heaped on the floor...your voice, your laughter...your smile...
Here he stopped, the despair much too overwhelming. After a couple of minutes he continued breathing deeply.
I don't know what's going to happen, beloved. But I do know that I will do everything in my power to return to you. For now and for however long I am here, I will continue talking to you. Now...are you taking care of yourself? Listen to your friends, do as they ask. They care about you so don't fight them too much.
It was evening. And Muraki still sat, still talking to Tsuzuki. His head throbbed, his stomach was empty, his whole body ached. But he wouldn't move. The advice he had given Tsuzuki, to eat and sleep, he knew his lover would say the same to him. He needed to keep his strength up and to prepare when his abductor showed up.
He got up, his cramped muscles painfully gaining back circulation. Into the kitchen he ate another peach and didn't bother to clean up. In the bathroom, he attended to his grooming and changed into silk pajamas. Throwing the thick covers aside, he slipped between the sheets and slid to Tsuzuki's side.
Good night, beloved.
Was Tsuzuki sleeping in their bed tonight?
His thoughts drifted to that warm bed with the dark-haired beauty beside him. Their nighttime ritual of holding each other tight, Tsuzuki naked back spooned against his muscled torso, their long fingers intertwined, softly conversing in the dark room. His lover either animated about the day's events or drowsy and fighting sleep and in either situation Muraki chuckling lightly and urging his lover to sleep. With that, Muraki held Tsuzuki tight, kissing a tan cheek, nuzzling the soft chestnut hair that smelled of jasmine and vanilla and listened to the guardian's steady breathing, taking great comfort.
Then there were the nights when they were aroused, the heady scent of sex thick between them. The sweet, slender body pressed up against his, holding his beloved's hand, playing with the each digit. The pale blonde using his hands to map every inch of the brunette's lithe frame delighting in those blissful sighs.
Do you love me, Asato? he would ask, his fingers skittering along Tsuzuki's smooth inner thighs. His dark-haired god would groan softly, squirm and turn his head to nip the pale shoulder in retaliation.
Oh yes. I love you. Would be the husky reply.
Do you love me, Kazutaka? he would whisper his hands reaching out to tease the silver blonde's hips and outer thighs. Muraki would growl and scrap his teeth along his lover's delicate nape, nipping him.
Oh yes. I love you, he gasped.
Muraki put an arm over his damp eyes, biting his trembling lip hard. His memories were both comforting and painful in equal measure.
Asato
"The sky is so beautiful this time of year, isn't it, Kazutaka?" Tsuzuki asked, quietly. Squeezing his pale lover's hand, the brunette breathed in the cold nippy air, drawing the collar of his black wool coat snug around his neck.
"Beautiful," Muraki agreed. "Perhaps this will be our last walk of the year." Their feet took a slow measured stroll down the sakura path. This time the trees were bare of their blossoms and stood out starkly against the grey skyline, the clouds just on the brink of snow. Tsuzuki thought the scenery looked especially lovely despite the lack of color with its muted grays and whites and his lover shared his opinion.
"Oh no! Walks in the snow are nice, too, Kazutaka," the brunette protested, his violets wide.
Muraki smiled, giving a side glance at the guardian.
"True. But as you are prone to chills we must limit our walks, ne?" seeing his lover pout, the doctor compromised. "However, sitting in front of the fireplace under a thick comforter is nice too, beloved."
Tsuzuki sighed, nodding.
"Well, you got me there," he teased, his violet eyes laughing. But just as quickly Tsuzuki's smile faded.
"Kazutaka, where are you?"
Muraki stopped. He turned his head, giving a puzzled expression to his lover.
"Asato?"
But Tsuzuki was gone.
"ASATO??"
The doctor woke with a start. Sitting upright, he saw with dismay the cold empty space beside to him. He was still here. Dropping his face into his hands, he squelched a sob. A dream! It was so real. He swore he could see his dark-haired lover so clearly. His face, his voice, everything felt so real.
Asato! We've been apart for a day and I feel as though I'm dying! It's unbearable this emptiness. I don't know...I don't know if I'll be able to hold on.
Muraki's hands fisted against his eyes.
I can't give up! I can't! Asato needs me. He's probably so upset right now, abandoned and lonely. I have to be strong for his sake.
Thus, the doctor took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Opening his eyes, he looked at his surroundings. The room was somewhat dark so he guessed it was quite early. He didn't sleep well at all and leaned against the headboard. He needed a plan as to what to do next. Reaching over to the nightstand he fumbled for his glasses not bothering to turn his head and suddenly gasped sharply. Jerking his hand back, he saw a drop of blood emerging from the pad of his middle finger.
What the?!
A single red rose was laid next to the steel-rimmed glasses. Muraki got out of bed slowly, his eyes glued to the flower and his heart picked up speed. Picking the thorny stem carefully he examined it, frowning hard. It most definitely wasn't here yesterday.
Someone had been here! He switched on the nightstand lamp and peered around the room. To his astonishment, set by the French window, a white-clothed table laden with long tapered candles and a plate covered with a silver dome. The doctor walked slowly to it, trembling. More roses in the center, the table laid out for one. And the plates and silverware looked polished and expensive. Lifting the heavy dome, hot steam wafted from mounds of scrambled eggs and strips of bacon.
Dropping the dome with a clang, Muraki stepped away from the table, giving rise to panic.
"Who's here!"
Nothing but the sound of his strained voice. He closed his eyes and steadied himself.
All this put here last night? But how? The steam rising from the food gave a clue that it must have been made recently. But Muraki heard no noise which made him think back to the peaches he consumed. Were they drugged? But he didn't feel any aftereffects, no grogginess or dizziness. Going to the wall and switching the light, he immediately notices the clothes that he had dumped were gone. Throwing the doors open the clothes were hanging neatly back on their hangers and looked pressed.
The clothes that he wore and tossed in heap were also gone and replaced by a clean set; shirt, pants, tie, underwear, dress jacket. Ignoring it he marched into to the bathroom to see what mischief occurred.
He stopped short.
Lit votive candles were laid on the floor, leading a path to the tub. More of the small white candles set on the rim of the large marble which was full to the brim of bubbles. Muraki inspected it close up and saw rose petals floating in the scented steamy bath. His mouth set in a grim line, the pale blonde stomped to the shower, shed his pajamas and stepped into the stall. A blast of cold water shocked him fully awake and he bore it for a few minutes. He needed that stimulus to keep his temper in check. He started up the hot and got the spray in a comfortable temperature all the while his brain grasping what was happening so far. It had occurred to him that the entity was watching every move he made. Sleeping, eating, showering. And it infuriated him. But at this moment, he didn't give a damn if he was giving this bastard a show. He soaped up his pale skin in short hurried strokes then ducked his head under the spray. As his fingers scrubbed his scalp another thought came through.
Was he being courted? The idea seemed absurd, but the signs seemed to point in that direction. The rose on the nightstand, the breakfast, and clothes laid out suggested that very thing. He had similarly seduced his dark-haired lover in this fashion.
No. He was being mocked. It was all a joke; he was being pampered now only to be tortured later. All this would be taken away as suddenly as it appeared and it was best to ignore it all now. After a quick rinsing the doctor turned off the water and stepped out, drying himself with a thick towel keenly aware his naked body may be on display. Tossing the damp towel to the floor, he proceeded to brush his teeth. He stared at his reflection not surprised by the smudges of fatigue under his eyes. In the bedroom he bypassed the laid-out clothes and dressed in what he picked out.
With a sudden flash of insolence, Muraki yanked clothes off their hangers throwing them to the floor. Perhaps it was childish, but given what little he had to fight with, seemed appropriate. And it felt good.
Next, to the kitchen. And he was going to eat something more filling than fruit but something he made. A sandwich, a piece of fruit and a glass of water helped. Now, to the barrier. Walking along its perimeter, Muraki placed both hands and began his incantations. He would start in one area, run through every spell he knew, move a few inches down and begin again. It was tedious work but perhaps if he kept at it there would be some give to the barrier's energy. But how long would it take?
Muraki spent all morning reciting all the spells of release over every inch. By the time he made his way back to the starting point, the sun was high above.
Asato
Going inside the house, he took his place in the leather chair. He was weary but sat straight.
Beloved? Are you well? I dreamed of you last night. You looked so beautiful and real. And to wake up and find you not there was...
Swallowing, Muraki continued.
Asato, there was a breakfast table laid out, left by this entity no doubt. I didn't touch it. The tub was full of rose petals, there were candles put around the room. Obviously, this entity is mocking me and until it shows itself I will ignore everything. I checked the barrier around this prison and drew up more spells, all that I could think of but nothing gave. I will continue to find a weak spot.
Muraki sighed deeply, fully immersed in his conversation with Tsuzuki.
Beloved, are you taking care of yourself? Please stay strong. We will see each other again. We've never been apart this long and...and I hate this! I hate not seeing you, not holding you, not kissing you. Not hearing your laughter, seeing you smile. Asato, I miss you terribly.
The hours ticked by slowly and the doctor woke with a start. Frowning, he looked toward the window, the sun was now west, long shadows stretched across the floor. He must have been dozing. He stood up, stretching and went to the kitchen.
The table was set for dinner. Waiting for him. Muraki approached the table cautiously. This time the place setting was different; different candles, different kind of silverware. He lifted the silver dome and underneath was peasant under glass. His hand was trembling with anger. Apparently the entity was slipping in and out without his knowing. With a grimace he dropped the lid and turned away from it.
Humph. Apparently the bastard doesn't know EVERYTHING. That USED to be my favorite dish. Asato's lamb stew replaced that.
He ate a slice of bread, an apple and a glass of water to wash it down. Making a decision, the pale blonde went to the living room and stood in the middle of the room. He had had enough.
"You must know by now that I refuse anything that is offered me! Why don't you get to the point of all this and show yourself, hmm? The sooner the better as your accommodations are quite mediocre!"
Muraki smirked. Perhaps if he appeared "ungrateful" it would anger the entity and draw it out. And right now he didn't care if he incurred his abductor's full wrath upon him. It would be easier to deal with than this damn waiting.
"Whatever you hope to achieve it is useless. If you wish revenge on me then show yourself and let us fight. That is what you want, ne? To see me dead?" Muraki spoke calmly enough, but his heart thumped. He waited for any sound or sign. He almost half-expected a voice to boom from the rafters. Nothing.
"Humph. Coward!"
With a toss of his silver head he stalked out of the room. He let it go. For now. He was tired but it was too early to retire. Nevertheless, he went into the bedroom and stretched his long frame out on the wide bed.
Asato, it's been a day...it doesn't matter if it be a week, a month, a year...perhaps that is this being's revenge. To keep me here indefinitely and watch me grow mad. They needn't watch. I'd kill myself before then.
Muraki eyes blinked open. He shouldn't think that. Even though Tsuzuki couldn't hear him, just even thinking that...No. Even thinking Tsuzuki couldn't hear him wasn't right either.
Tsuzuki can hear me, he thought stubbornly. He can.
"Kazutaka! Wake up! Look outside!" Tsuzuki was bouncing on the soft mattress like a young boy on Christmas morning and much to his pale lover's amusement.
"Beloved," Muraki reached for the excited guardian's arms to pull him down next to him. But his lover proved to be evasive and squirmed under the doctor's hold.
"Kazutaka, it's snowing! The first snow of the year. And isn't it beautiful?" the brunette continued, the wonder in his voice apparent.
Muraki grinned widely. You think Tsuzuki had never seen snow before! But his lover's enthusiasm was infectious and the pale blonde couldn't help but be affected by the silver white flakes fluttering softly.
"Yes, beloved. It is very beautiful. Now lie next to me. It's quite early and you're cold. We can watch it from here, ne?" Muraki insisted.
Tsuzuki surrendered with a soft sigh and settled his back against his lover's firm chest. Muraki promptly wrapped his arms around the slim body holding his lover still and kissed a bare shoulder. Both men stared out the picture window in quiet contemplation.
Minutes ticked by. Every now and then Muraki kissed Tsuzuki's cheek and shoulder, his silver eyes fixed on the wintry scenery.
"Would that we could spend every morning like this, beloved," Muraki murmured, his eyes suddenly moist. The beauty of the moment filled Muraki's heart with gratefulness. Lying in a warm bed holding the man he adored, watching the first snow of the season...all of it was so perfect.
Tsuzuki nodded, rubbing his cheek against his lover's, equally touched by the moment.
"We can, Kazutaka. We will," the brunette whispered.
Muraki woke. He sighed heavily, blinking back tears.
Another day in this prison. Of waking up to a rose by his nightstand and breakfast waiting for him. All of which he promptly ignored again. A tub full of bubbles with brightly illuminated candles all around which he again turned away from. After showering, dressing, and breakfasting on fruit and water, he went outside and checked the barrier. Again going all around its perimeter. By early afternoon he sat in the same leather chair to talk to his lover.
Beloved, are you well? Are you eating? I am...all right, physically. There's been no change here. It's been three days. But I feel the beginnings...the slow decent. I don't know...how long I can...
Muraki stopped. He shouldn't convey those feelings to Tsuzuki. He knew that he was reaching the brunette this way and to talk in this defeatist way...especially after the way Tsuzuki reacted to the revelation that the doctor almost killed himself that one night. For days afterward, Muraki comforted, reassuring his lover that he wouldn't do such a deed. But how could Muraki think of going on if he never saw his beloved again?
I want to destroy this place and call this entity out. But...but I could endanger you. I don't know if you're safe or have been kidnapped as well. You could be in a prison such as this one, the same hell as I am, same house, same accommodations. Solitary confinement. Asato...I dreamed of you again. We watched the first snow of the year. I held you in my arms as we lay in our bed and...I was happy.
Tears gathered in the silver eyes, one slipping at the corner. Muraki tasted the salty wetness and cursed. How much longer could this go on? Not long, he resolved. He wasn't going to spend days upon days mentally slipping away. But Tsuzuki...he would be hurting Tsuzuki if he took his life. But...a life without his beloved was not a life he wanted.
But...then the entity would win. It could marvel at the fact that all that needed to be done to push the doctor to the brink of madness was to separate him from his lover for a few hours.
The still atmosphere was disrupted by a door slam. Muraki jolted from his meditation. His heard pounded and he gripped the arms of the leather chair hard.
"Kazutaka!"
Silver eyes wide, Muraki's heart pounded unbridled. An unfamiliar voice. If anything unnerved him more at this moment it was this unknown voice calling out his first name.
"Kazutaka!"
The doctor stood up and straightened his spine. No matter what happened, he had to remain focused and indifferent, not show fear.
Slipping his mask on, he prepared to meet his adversary.
ASATO!!
TBC
A/N: It's been a rough couple of weeks for me, a new schedule to adjust to, new atmosphere AND an illness to get over. Hoping things will smooth over soon. Despite all that, I'm bound and determined to see this to completion as I really hope Muraki and Tsuzuki find each other again! Reviews are SO appreciated! Until next time!