Yep...c'est the next chapter/part/whatever-you-call-it. This took forever to write, way longer than the last part. Like two weeks. And then I scrapped the last half and rewrote it . But you probably don't want to hear about that...so. Read on!
Briiing!
Bring! Bring! Brii-
"Hello?" an exasperated Oriya asked, picking up the phone.
It was a hard day at the brothrel. The customers were being extremely difficult and demanding, and the women were rowdy. Not Oriya's best day.
And on top of all that, Muraki was in the room, even after he promised not to return. His reasons were something nobody could fathom.
And his presence, of course, normally meant that Oriya's blood pressure rocketed, even on a good day. This day was definitely not good. And it will only get worse.
"Hello," a cool and curt voice answered from the other end, "Is Muraki Kazutaka there?"
"Yeah." Oriya tossed the cordless phone over to Muraki, who was at a table drinking a cup of tea as if nothing had ever happened between them in the past couple of months.
As if he still wasn't swathed in bandages to protect the burns all over his body.
Muraki caught it and brought it to his ear. "Hello?" he asked.
A calm voice answered. "Muraki. Stage One has been completed." There. That one simple message, probably meaningless to anyone else but him. Whoever was on the other end began talking quickly, as Muraki nodded and hmmed as he was supposed to.
"So everything is ready?" he confirmed, looking as if he were a child on Christmas Day. "Yes, I will begin Stage two immediately. I will not fail this time." The other disconnected, and left him staring at the phone while Oriya looked at him curiously.
"I'll be gone for a while," Muraki told his friend, "Please don't come looking for me." Oriya nodded, this was a given. Never look for Muraki without his consent. One can not find him if he does not want to be found, and the best prize you could hope for your efforts is probably be a quick and painless death.
Oriya also knew enough not to ask about the call, and knew Muraki well enough to know that he probably didn't want to know. Still, that cold voice was so...strange. He had heard it before, but couldn't pinpoint the memory.
Weird. He usually had good memory.
Maybe he was growing old.
Oriya almost chuckled. He was growing old - too old for Muraki's games anymore.
Tatsumi walked - nearly stumbling - into his soft chair in his office. Another tiring day of accounting, rule-enforcing, arguing, and general-taking-care-of-things-around-the-building behind him.
The pages he was supposed to be doing to get ahead of his work seemed so uninteresting now, the words swimming together before his eyes.
He rubbed his eyes. Maybe he was getting too old for this kind of job. Or maybe it was just Tsuzuki.
Yes, that must be it.
Tsuzuki, now more demon than human (only physically though). Tsuzuki, who was dead, then alive, then dead again. Tsuzuki, who appeared the same (apart from those fangs...), and yet somehow seemed to have changed so much, which frightened everyone. Tsuzuki, who nobody knew what to do with.
The other employees' concern were well justified, of course. Who wants a half-human, half-demon co-worker with twelve shikigamis and the power to destroy the whole of Meifu without even blinking? One who only recently learned how to control his powers? One who had changed so much, and yet still seems so much the same.
Because, oh yes, Tsuzuki had changed a lot. Sharp canine teeth, extra-sensitive senses, and incredible reflexes being the most obvious, although these alone would be enough to unnerve most. He had diamond-sharp claws as well, although Tatsumi was sure that nobody but he and Tsuzuki knew about those.
Tsuzuki just seemed...different, somehow. That glow of happiness - which had warmed him for so long - was gone, although he knew how much Tsuzuki tried to hide that from everyone. It was almost painful seeing how much that shinigami was hiding.
As well, Tatsumi now had new respect for Hisoka. Being by the violet-eyed shinigami all the time, receiving the stares with no more than a twitch of an eyelid. Those two were made to be partners, that he knew for sure.
But enough talk about Tsuzuki, who had been foremost in his thoughts for most of the day. Now, with everybody already home for the night, it was time for him to get some work done.
He picked up his pen and turned on the nearby radio.
(Yes, he had a radio in his office, contrary to popular belief. He enjoyed music, a love he had taken up as a child.)
A calm, soothing jazz began playing and Tatsumi smiled slightly as he carefully noted down figures and numbers. The music was not enough to sooth his panic when seeing how much the department in debt, though.
Finally, half and hour and several songs later, he put his pen back down and yawned. Time to go home, Tatsumi thought, filing away the papers. As he opened the door, however, the fax machine beeped and printed out a piece of...something.
He grunted and ripped the sheet out. Hmm...another assignment request? Oh well, he'll give it to Tsuzuki and Hisoka in the morning-those two were positively driving him up the wall with their restlessness. Time to give them something to do, and this assignment seemed harmless enough.
Tatsumi began humming the jazz tune as he set the paper on his desk and left the building.
So preoccupied he was with his work, Tatsumi completely missed the dark shadow that followed his every move.
Tsuzuki slumped in his chair and yawned.
"Another bad night?" Hisoka asked, finishing up a report on one of Watari's older computers. Pity that the Department couldn't afford newer ones.
Tsuzuki just nodded, then brightened. "Maybe the break room has some more of those yummy chocolate donuts. That'll help!"
Hisoka sighed, shaking his head. "C'mon. Work on your report. What are you looking at on that computer, anyway?" He leaned over to catch a glimpse of a picture of a black-haired, pale skinned man, before Tsuzuki hurriedly closed the page. "That was that?"
"Nothing. I was bored."
Hisoka shook his head again. "Whatever. Your time. But you should really work on your report, or else Tatsumi will be out for you blood."
"Tatsumi will be out for whose blood?" A certain blue-eyed, brown-haired secretary asked, stepping into the room. Tsuzuki scrambled for his papers and pen, trying to look as if he was actually doing some work.
"Nobody's," he replied quickly.
Tatsumi shook his head. Tsuzuki, you don't fool me for a second.
"Anyway," he said, "We have a new assignment for you two. Meet Konoe and me in the office in half an hour."
"'Kay," Tsuzuki said, excited. But knowing him, he'll probably be late for the meeting, no matter how excited he was.
Hisoka reached into his desk and pulled out a book. "We'll be there," he murmured, burying his nose in the fantasy novel.
Tatsumi nodded and turned to leave. Hand on the doorknob, however, he looked back and stared at Tsuzuki. "Oh, and I expect both of your reports by this afternoon, new assignment or not. Especially since I take care of your paychecks."
Tsuzuki's eyes widened, as he started scribbling madly at the page before him. All thoughts of chocolate donuts were forgotten.
Tatsumi supressed a chuckle and walked out of the room, already readying himself for his own mounds of work waiting on his desk.
Watari walked into Konoe's office with a charred lab coat slung over one arm.
"Yo, hi," he said, waving his hand. "Hey, Chief, have you seen Tsuzuki? Or Tatsumi? I need to ask him for another research grant. From Tatsumi, I mean."
Konoe shook his head. "No, I haven't, Watari. What do you need Tsuzuki for? And why do you need another grant?"
"Tsuzuki asked for some things, and I have them in my office and I need to give them to him." Watari smiled sheepishly. "And well...I have a few other projects that...didn't work out the way I wanted them to."
"Hence the burned lab coat?"
"Heh heh heh...yeah."
Konoe thought for a moment, then finally said, "Watari, could you make something for me? I'm sure the department can cover the costs of such a thing, providing that it isn't too expensive, and can actually work."
For a moment, Watari looked taken aback. But he quickly recovered his composure. If his life had taught him anything, it was to never look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Sure, Konoe. What do you want me to make?"
Konoe folded his hands. "Something that can transfer energy from one place to another...preferably between people. I've been having an idea for some time now, and I'm sure that this invention can keep shinigami safer. Plus, there's all the broken..." he went on, but Watari had already stopped listening after the first sentence, too busy thinking up ideas for his newfound project.
An invention! Fully paid by the department! This was too good to pass up.
"Now, will you make this for me?"
"Sure, Chief Konoe. Of course!"
Tsuzuki frowned. "So, you're saying that there is some kind of murderer prowling the streets of Kyoto, killing other criminals? And that the criminal's souls never make it here, and instead, are lost? And Hisoka and I are to find the murderer and the souls and bring them back here, if possible?" He shuffled a stack of papers that were clipped together, looking through them.
"Why Kyoto?" Hisoka muttered, shuddering. He had enough memories from there to last a lifetime.
Tsuzuki wholeheartedly agreed.
Tatsumi sighed. "Yes, I agree that going there may not be the best choice for the two of you, but you are the only shinigami we have that aren't already on an assignment. The assignment, otherwise, does not seem difficult, and if this case is left alone any longer, it may seriously back up the court schedules."
"So, when do we start?" Hisoka asked, "The sooner we start, the sooner we finish and put it all behind us."
"You can start right now, in fact," Konoe said. "But be careful - especially you, Tsuzuki."
Tsuzuki laughed. "What more could happen? I'm dead after all."
Ignoring the last comment, Tatzumi added, "Oh, Tsuzuki, don't forget your report-" But by then, the two were already gone.
Tsuzuki and Hisoka materialized in one of Kyoto's back alleys.
Tall grey walls of rundown buildings bordered either side, and broken concrete lay beneath. Wilted skeletons of weeds lay scattered among the cracks, probably choked by the heavy smell of garbage and rot that seemed to hang perpetually in the air.
"Have you finished your report?" Hisoka asked his partner, stepping over a pile of...something. He didn't want to know what.
Tsuzuki grinned sheepishly. "Nope." He stuck all of the assignment papers into an inside pocket of his trench coat, all senses finely tuned for any signs of people around them.
Somewhere off in the distance, sounds of a fight met their ears, followed by dull wooden thunks, and a shattered-glass crash.
Hisoka scowled. "Do we really need to rescue all those murderers from this killer? I mean, if we don't we'd probably be saving dozens of lives right there. The killer will take care of them."
Tsuzuki turned away and began picking his way out of he alley. "Yes, maybe if we don't do anything, that'll happen. Sooner or later, he'll make a mistake, and kill an innocent. No one, not even the worst murderer, deserves to have their soul taken away. Nobody."
A long pause.
"Not even Muraki?"
Tsuzuki stiffened, and turned to look at his partner, to gauge his emotions. Hisoka's calm, but challenging expression stared back.
Tsuzuki hesitated. "No, not even Muraki," he said as the two reached the mouth the alley.
The sounds of the street fight have faded by then, and the two walked silently side by side, each wrapped up in their own thoughts.
Finally, Tsuzuki broke the silence. "What should we do, first, Hisoka? Investigate, or check into the hotel?"
Hisoka answered without looking. "Investigate first, then check in."
Tsuzuki nodded. "That's smart. We can look into police records, to see if there are any patterns between the murders."
Aside from the murders being murderers themselves. It was an unspoken fact between the two, but it may as well have been shouted out loud, their thoughts so finely attuned to each other.
Their thoughts on the same level, and both sullen and quiet as they walked through the better streets of Kyoto. Being there was taking a toll on them both mentally and emotionally, as well as bringing back unwelcome memories. Even other people around them avoided them, skirting around huge crowds or just averting their gaze from Tsuzuki and Hisoka. Whether consciously or subconsciously, they knew that this was a pair to be avoided.
The two reached a large, but nondescript building. Made of red brick, and surrounded by green-and not yet flowering-plants, the building could have been practically anything, anywhere, and still fit in. Kyoto Police Department was written in large block letters above the main doors.
"Closed?" Tsuzuki asked in disbelief, reading the small sign on the door. "What kind of police department closes?"
"One that is too busy to receive any new cases," Hisoka replied, looking around. "There were a lot of murders around here, remember that. They must be really busy." He paused before continuing. "Either way, we should sneak into the building later on, try to find what we can by ourselves. It's not like the police are going to hand over information to us."
Tsuzuki nodded. "Yeah, but during the night. Now, can we get some ice cream? I think I saw a stand on our way here." He reached into a pocket for money.
Hisoka shook his head. "Baka!" he said, "We should be checking into our hotel, not buying ice cream!"
Tsuzuki sighed. "Fine. Ice cream later?"
He nearly dodged Hisoka's hit. Nearly.
"Ouch! That hurt!"
"I think this is the place," Tsuzuki said finally, half an hour later. He took out one of the sheets they have been given. "Sure looks like it." He rubbed the side of his face where Hisoka's fist hit him while looking up at the inn.
Hisoka snorted. Typical of Tatsumi - housing shinigami in the cheapest, most run-down places ever. Although being technically immortal and probably not coming out worse for wear after staying in one of these inns, it wouldn't hurt him to have them stay in someplace better? Like, say, someplace one-star, for once?
Tsuzuki sighed, checking into the inn and taking a key that looked about just as old-fashioned as the building's owner. "I guess we have to take what we can get," he said, unlocking a chipped wooden door that had most of its paint peeling off. Not that the lock does the place much good, Hisoka mused as he entered the small room, the door looks as if a single push could sent it falling down.
Tsuzuki frowned at the door, as if thinking along the same lines, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "I bet this place doesn't even have cafe or a sweets shop!"
"At least it has a bathroom." Hisoka offered.
"And if we're lucky, one that works." Tsuzuki shot back with unusual temper. Kyoto was bringing back unwanted memories for him, ones that he'd prefer to have stayed hidden in the misty folds of his mind.
Hisoka looked at him strangely. "What's with you, Tsuzuki? We've done nothing but argue since coming here."
Tsuzuki shook his head and lowered his eyes. "Sorry, Hisoka. This place is getting on my nerves, that's all. Anyway, it's almost seven. If we go now, we'd have enough time to eat dinner before searching the police station." He said, said, eager to change the subject.
Hisoka rolled his eyes but let the argument go.
Tsuzuki and Hisoka left the building, earning more than a few stares for the obvious companionship of the strange (and unsettling) adult and standoffish teenager.
Not the least of the stares came from a dark figure who stalked the two with practised ease.
Tsuzuki was wrong about one thing, at least - the killer never made a mistake.
Enma laughed.
Which was a rarely heard sound in the Meifu court. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the way you see it), no one was around to hear the loud, booming, satisfied, laugh.
Which suited Enma just fine. No one to hear, then there was no one to pester him for information, or look at him strangely. Although he could most probably fend off such polite, respectful - and yet still probing - questions with the careless wave of a hand.
But no such questions were asked, which was better for the questioners. Enma didn't want to have to kill any of his employees as they have served him loyally for many years, but he will if he had to.
He didn't want the secret to come out before it was ready, after all.
But with his plans coming to fruitation so quickly and well, there was only a matter of time before all of Meifu - heck all of the worlds - to see exactly what had been going on right in front of their noses all this time. So many decades set with planning this, and now it was all coming to a conclusion.
Soon, there will come a time where everything will be black and white, where it will either be one or the other.
But Enma was quite sure that it will be he who would win in the end.
"And he left! Without giving in his report!" Tatsumi fumed quietly, in the privacy of his office. "And he didn't hand me his bills from last month, either!"
When Tsuzuki came back from Kyoto, he was in for it.
Anyone who happened to be passing by the door of Tatsumi's office might be inclined to believe that their secretary was finally going crazy. And nobody will blame Tatsumi for losing it, either.
But, in this case, he had a very good reason to be angry. What else would you be when you've found out that the reports and bills that you've been pressing Tsuzuki to hand in for weeks were actually finished, sitting in the bottom of his junk drawer, and smeared in icing and other bakery delights?
Tatsumi dumped the Ziplock bag full of the illegible official papers unceremoniously on his desk, ready to confront Tsuzuki when he got back. Really. A few missing or late papers now and then was okay, but this? This was taking lazy, messy, and irresponsible a little too far, Tsuzuki.
Tatsumi pushed his glasses farther up on his nose, and took a deep breath. And let it out. And took in another.
Calming himself.
If he was being truthful to himself, Tatsumi might have realized that a small portion of his anger, at least, was from worry. Already, he was regretting sending Hisoka and Tsuzuki on this case.
But Tatsumi wasn't in the mood for being truthful, and he took out the department's monthly bill in hopes that comforting, familiar numbers would help sooth him.
He should have known it wouldn't.
"Watari!" Tatsum shouted, bursting into the blonde's laboratory. Watari's head snapped up, and the vial of liquid in his hand slipped, spilling the bluish chemical all over the table.
The scientist swore, and hurriedly soaked a nearby cloth with another chemical and began mopping it up.
"Watari!" Tatsumi repeated, not worried in the slightest about that liquid might do. He was more worried about the piece of paper clutched in his hand - the department's monthly bill. "Why did your sector use almost double the amount of money than any of the others?" he demanded.
Watari blinked, then chuckled nervously, still moping up the spill. "Oh - about that..." he started.
Tatsumi's gaze was steely. "About what? What were you making this time that was so expensive?"
"It was a request from Chief Konoe." Watari replied, pausing in his cleaning to look up. "He wanted me to make a -" he stopped himself, biting his lip.
"Make a what?" Tatsumi's stare became even icier, if that was possible. "What justified putting this department into even more debt?"
Watari sighed. "He wanted me to build an energy-transferring device," he explained, "And I made one that worked pretty well...except that maybe it used a bit too much money to produce...Ask him if you want to know all the details-actually, don't. I was technically supposed to keep this a secret, but since you are the secretary..." Watari was cut off when the cloth he was using to wipe the table started smoking. "Whoops." He dunked the whole cloth into some solution, and started wiping again. "And if you do talk to him, don't mention me, okay? I promised," Watari said, keeping his head down. "Anyway, I'm almost finished it, and it's really cool, see? It can…" his voice trailed off when he realized that Tatsumi wasn't paying the slightest attention to his findings.
Tatsumi frowned, folding the bill back up. "Why did he need an energy-transferring device? There's no need for one, and no one has ever requested an invention before. Definitely not from you."
"Hey!" Watari pouted.
Ignoring him, Tatsumi turned for the door. "Well, next month, you better watch your spending. I'm probably going to have to cut your budget now, and if you go even one cent over-" No one can sound quite as frightening as Tatsumi when he felt like it.
"Okay, okay!" Watari said hastily, if a little disappointedly. "I get it...I won't make any more of my sex-change potions." He chuckled. "Although it was pretty funny the last time..." He froze at Tatsumi's glare.
"I'd be watching your every penny," Tatsumi threatened once more, then swept out of the room.
Watari stared at the closed door. "What's with him?" he asked 003, who'd been sitting peacefully on a nearby computer. The owl hooted and shrugged.
In truth, Tatsumi didn't know why he was so snappy, himself.
It's just paranoia, he told himself, walking down the hallway, shoes clapping against the cold linoleum floor. Everyone in this division was paranoid these days, what with various wreckings of the library, Kyoto, and now, the dead-turned-living-turned-demon Tsuzuki.
But Tatsumi couldn't help wondering whether he should actually look into this matter. It could be just nothing, he reasoned, but it could be part of something important. But what if it was actually nothing, and Chief Konoe was just curious? How humiliating that will be.
In the end, Tatsumi decided not to do anything. After all, this strange nervous sensation was just paranoia.
Right?
Tsuzuki bent over the sink, scrubbing furiously at his hands until, finally, he gave up and dried his hands on the tiny tattered towel next to the sink. The water draining away was tinged grey with ash.
"You never give up, don't you," Hisoka commented from the bed, looking at Tsuzuki's raw hands.
"It. Never. Comes. Off." Tsuzuki muttered, baring his teeth in frustration. "I've got most of my power under control, but I can't help burning a small layer off everything I touch. And the ash is basically glue."
"It doesn't harm you, does it?" Hisoka asked.
"No. 'Course not." Tsuzuki replied. "But it's so annoying, knowing that your hands can never be clean." He ran his tongue over his sharpened canines, another constant reminder that he was not what he once was. His ears twitched at every new sound, and he ran his hands over the cloth of the bed sheets - almost unbearably rough with his heightened sense of touch.
Hisoka thought for a moment. "When we get back, we could probably get Watari or someone to find something to help that."
Tsuzuki shuddered. "Watari? I'd probably get turned into a fish, or something. Anyway, we're not here to talk about me. Have you found anything in the police station?"
Hisoka sighed. "No. That place has even tighter security than Tatsumi's wallet. And even when I did get into the files, there was basically nothing there that we didn't already know. Nothing at all."
"I didn't get anything, either. The police have just as much trouble with this case as we are." Tsuzuki replied, flopping onto the bed.
"Well, there's always the crime scenes. Police always forget some evidence." Hisoka suggested.
"Yeah, sure. Tomorrow, though. I'm beat."
Hisoka nodded, and that was all it took for Tsuzuki to close his eyes and drift away to a place where sooty hands and difficult cases did not exist.
Tsuzuki opened his eyes to the stained, white-washed ceiling of the inn.
"Morning, already?" he muttered, raising his head off the pillow. "Hey-Hisoka. Are you up yet?"
He turned his head to where Hisoka was sleeping, and stifled a scream.
Hisoka's blank right eye stared back at him, its sibling lying on the bloody sheets. The boy's arm was ripped off at the shoulder, and black burns blazed on his skin. The blood was everywhere.
And he was not breathing.
"Hisoka!" Tsuzuki cried, jumping up.
"Tsu...zuki..." Hisoka murmured softly, looking strangely angry. His eyelids fluttered.
"W-wait-don't move. I'll get you bandages." Tsuzuki ran to the small bathroom to grab the towel, but when he saw his reflection out of the corner of his eye, he froze.
In the mirror, he looked like Muraki. No, he was Muraki. The black hair was still there, and when he opened his mouth, so were the demon fangs. The voice that his tongue spoke was his-definitely his-but not much else was. The silver eyes-one big and one small-were Muraki's. And so was the pale, pale skin, the high cheekbones, the delicate mouth drawn permanently into something in between a flirtatious pout and a self-satisfied smirk.
Tsuzuki lifted one hand to touch his reflection, to see if it was really real, when he saw his hand.
Blood was everywhere. Not his, but Hisoka's.
Staining his T-shirt and soaking through his shorts, caught under his finger nails and pooling in the palm of his hand. Quickly, Tsuzuki turned on the tap and scrubbed his hands raw, but no matter how hard he would try to wash the blood off, it stayed on his hand. Water overflowed, tinged red, but the blood on his hands didn't disappear. If anything, it grew, overjoyed by the attention Tsuzuki was stressing over it.
An accusation.
"Enjoying your handiwork, I see."
Tsuzuki's head snapped up, and he searched around for the source of the voice. He was sure there wasn't anyone else in here, apart from Hisoka and him...
"You can't see me?" The voice chuckled again. "Look up. I'm right in front of you." Tsuzuki's reflection smirked.
Tsuzuki backed away, still rubbing his hands furiously on the towel, stunned speechless. Somehow, he tripped, and fell against-no, through the bathroom wall. He landed with a dull thud on the ground.
His reflection stepped out of the mirror, and looked around appreciatively.
"Do you like your new room, Tsuzuki?" it asked, eyes glinting cruelly. "Suits you better, doesn't it?"
Gone was Hisoka, the bathroom, the run-down inn - a place, however cheap, was still habitable. This place, an empty moor filled only with smoke and mist, deprived of all colour, was a place where nothing could live.
Dark blackness gathered at the edge of the horizon, looking as if it will invade and suffocate what little he could see any second. The ground was dry, packed dirt, sometimes dotted with a few withered shrubs.
"Good thing you're dead, huh?" his reflection winked. "After all, you're going to stay here for quite a while. Fitting for a murderer, hmm?" it raised its eyebrows. "Especially one who kills his own partner!"
"What?" Tsuzuki said, horrified from his position on the ground, "I didn't kill Hisoka! Why would I?"
His reflection was starting to look more and more like Muraki. Was the hair already turning lighter? Was the voice becoming more seductive, more playful, more cold? Or was it just him?
"Look around you," it hissed, "The evidence is everywhere."
A figure stepped out from the ever-changing mist. "I hate you," Hisoka snarled, empty eye socket staring coldly at Tsuzuki. "I hate you and everything that you have done to me. Look at what you've done!" Blood was welling up from the ground, and the shifting wind suddenly sounded like distant human screams. "Can you hear that?" Hisoka murmured. "That is the sound of all the souls you've damned! Because of you, we can never rest, not while our tormenter lives. Not while you still exist. I hate you!" The last sentence was flung into Tsuzuki's face like a barb.
Tsuzuki whimpered. "Hisoka…" he whispered hoarsely. "I would never…"
His reflection laughed. "You would never?" it sneered. "You already have. No wonder Hisoka doesn't care about you at all." Now, it looked more like Muraki than anything else.
Tsuzuki shook his head. "No, that can't be true," he said, more trying to convince himself than in denial.
The reflection—Muraki-reached out, and Hisoka ran willingly into its arms. "See?" it boasted, "Hisoka loves me…he belongs to me. Not you. My precious doll." Hisoka stared out, blank-eyed now, oblivious to everything.
Tsuzuki let out a cry that sounded more like a half-strangled sob. This couldn't be true…it couldn't.
And…was Muraki's outline flickering? All at once, it changed, pale skin becoming even paler, white hair turning black, silver eyes into a colour no one can possibly hope to replicate.
"Hello Tsuzuki. Long time no see, hmm?" Enma said conversationally, sweeping his long robes along the dusty ground. Hisoka stepped away to stand at the emperor's side.
"Enma!" Tsuzuki gasped, backing away. "Get away from Hisoka!"
"Hisoka?" Enma asked, eyes glimmering in mock uncertainty. "You mean this boy here?" he reached out to place a finger on Hisoka's forehead.
Tsuzuki jumped up, almost loosing his balance on the uneven ground. "Get away from him!" he shouted again.
The emperor chuckled. "But what's one lost life among the many you have already taken? And will take in the future? Yes, the oceans will run red with the blood you have spilled."
"No!" Tsuzuki leapt forwards, trying to get between the two.
"This boy is dead, in either case. His life taken from your hands, if I recall correctly. He is of no use to you, and he hates you anyway. Give up, and come to me. You'll be powerful beyond all understanding."
"No," Tsuzuki muttered again, shielding Hisoka from Enma. "I will never come to you."
Enma smirked, a strange expression on his face. "We'll see," he said, reaching for the oblivious boy. "But first, I need to get rid of him." Fire erupted around them, fire as black and hot as Touda's own flames…
"No!"
Tsuzuki's eyes jerked open and he blinked in the darkness, trying to convince himself that it was all...just a dream.
Then he realized that he was standing up, facing the one small window in the room, with a shocked and horrified Hisoka pinned between him and the wall. His teeth were bared and he was leaning in, breathing in the scent of Hisoka's throat...
There was a warm, wet stickiness on his hands, and all over his face, and he knew without question that if the light had been turned on, everyone would see that he was covered in blood, although there wasn't a single mark on Hisoka.
Blood. Everywhere. Running down his shirt, smearing onto Hisoka, pooling at his feet. He looked up, and saw more of the red dripping off the walls and ceiling and onto the floor in an ever-growing pool, though there was none a second ago. Tsuzuki wasn't sure what was reality-this whole situation felt as if it were a dream-but he knew one thing.
Demon.
Murderer.
Freak.
Killer.
MONSTER.
"No!"
Tsuzuki leapt backwards, flattening himself against the door in his horror.
He knew.
Hisoka stepped away from the window, eyes wide in shock. He lifted a hand up to his throat, and fingered his clothing where Tsuzuki had singed them.
"Tsu...Tsuzuki?" he asked, face ashen. "What..."
Tsuzuki took one look at Hisoka, at the overturned room, at the sheets strewn everywhere with red stains on them, at the blood everywhere. He turned, and ran out of the inn, tears streaking down his face.
He didn't know what possessed him to walk through the hallways of the inn.
He was in his late forties, and was already well into mid-life crisis. His joints pained him during the day, and insomnia kept him up at night. He has stooped and heavily-built, with days-old stubble growing on his chin.
Once, he had been a proud man, owning a well-kept inn that had been passed-down through his family. Once, he was young and fit and bright and knew how to make good business. Now, he had fallen upon hard times. Now, his inn was practically unknown. Now, he was just another strange, eccentric older man who happened to own a run-down inn.
But these two new visitors...they were new.
They were young, they were kind, and they were different in ways he couldn't quite explain. After being by himself all this time, it's little wonder that they fascinated him.
Maybe that was why he was walking through these hallways, gazing up at the familiar wallpaper, setting his feet upon a route he knew well enough that he could probably find his way around in his sleep.
Suddenly, he sniffed the air. Was that...blood he could smell? Yes, yes, that was definitely the smell of blood, he wouldn't mistake it anywhere.
It was coming from the door of the room he gave the two visitors. He rushed for the door, forgetting all about his aching joints. Before opening it, however, he paused. Should he give the two their privacy? But what if they were in real trouble?
The eerie silence that came from behind the door made up his mind.
Quickly, he grabbed one of the master keys from his belt and opened the door, pushing his way inside.
"Are you two -" he stopped. The room looked like a tornado had whisked its way through it.
Sheets were strewn all over the floor, twisted up and ripped. The thin curtains which covered the ajar window were hopelessly maimed as well. And...were those claws that ripped the wallpaper - and the wood underneath - into ribbons?
But whatever happened, there wasn't any blood. Not a drop anywhere in the room, although the smell hung heavy in the air.
And the two visitors have disappeared.
He shook his head. He must have just been imagining things, and it sure was a good thing they weren't in here. He was about to leave and tally up the damages from his rapidly-shrinking pool of funds when he saw a card on the ground beside a stack of bills and a metal key.
He picked up the money first, then the cheap paper. He held the card carefully, then turned it over and over before finally reading the neat - if hurried-handwriting.
Sorry about the damages, and for our abrupt departure.
Hope this is enough to pay for everything.
That was all - no names, no signatures, no anything. Just a card, the room key, and money.
Quickly, he counted the money. Then recounted. This couldn't be right - there was almost double the amount of money here than he needed. They must have made a mistake.
But there wasn't anyone here to talk to, to give the money back.
Bushy eyebrows raised, he shook his head and left the room, tucking the money into a shirt pocket. He sent a silent thank you to his visitors—whoever they were.
Had he seem the single shimmering form perched outside the window, he may have thought differently. (1)
Konoe shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Shouldn't Tsuzuki and Hisoka have checked in with us by now?" he asked Tatsumi, "I mean, it's been almost a full day...They must have gotten something."
"I'm not sure if it's time to start worrying yet, Konoe," Tatsumi replied, equally nervous. "I'm sure they're just busy."
"Either way, I'm going to call them, just to make sure," Konoe muttered under his breath. He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed. And waited. Finally, someone picked up at the other end.
"Hello?" an unfamiliar man said, and the phone crackled.
"Hello," Konoe replied. "Could I speak with Tsuzuki Asato or Hisoka Kurosaki?"
"Who?"
"They should be two of the people staying at your inn."
There was a pause. "I'm sorry, but currently, there are no people staying in my inn. The last people moved out an hour ago."
What? "Oh. Thank you for your time," Konoe replied. "Goodbye." He hung up.
"Well?" Tatsumi raised one eyebrow.
Konoe sighed, resting his head on his table. "They've seemed to have checked out of the inn." Those two are the reason why he was - he is - so old.
"What? Why would they?" Tatsumi was shocked. "They have no reason to check out so early. What's going on?" Something was wrong - he knew it. Shinigami don't just up and leave a perfectly good hotel on the first day of an investigation. Speaking of, they should be investigating! Something was wrong.
Tatsumi's hand itched for the phone, to call Tsuzuki or Hisoka and demand why they left. But it was pointless, he knew.
Something was wrong...he. This whole case was wrong, like a strange case of déjà-vu. Before, it seemed good to give to the two, but now, Tatsumi wasn't so sure that it was a good idea. Something feels wrong about it.
Tatsumi ground his teeth - subtly, of course. He wished fervently that he could actually do something. He never felt so helpless in his life.
He never thought he knew so little.
Tsuzuki ran, not caring about where he went, as long as it was far, far away from Hisoka.
His mind, as ifstuck on replay, kept going over the scene again and again. Him, leaning over the sixteen-year-old, teeth long and sharp, Hisoka's shocked and hurt face.
What had he been doing?
"But what's one lost life among the many you have already taken? And will take in the future? Yes, the oceans will run red with the blood you have spilled."
No.
"This boy is dead, in either case. His life taken from your hands, if I recall correctly. He is of no use to you, and he hates you anyway. Give up, and come to me. You'll be powerful beyond all understanding."
No.
"We'll see. But first, I need to get rid of him."
"No!"
Tsuzuki shouted out loud, not caring anymore if people saw. But there were no people to be found in these alleyways in which he was running through, no human where he was going...
He couldn't go back, not to Hsioka, not to Meifu. Who would want a demon killer like him?
The blood staining his clothes...his sleepless nights in which he woke up, panting and excited and frightened and exhausted all at once...
"You're the most wonderful weapon, did you know that, Tsuzuki? You have enough power in you to destroy an entire world, easily. You feel it, don't you? Feel it growling restless inside you. It doesn't like being contained, did you know that?"
"But when the time comes, it will be wonderful. With you, I can destroy all the evil in the world. There will no longer be any need of war, or of theft, or of crime."
"The people who would have to die...they are the ones that do not deserve to live."
Tsuzuki ran, tears of self-hatred streaming down his cheeks.
Now he knew who was the killer of those criminals.
They are the ones who do not deserve to live...
…Do not deserve to live.
Enma was right-there were people in the world who do not deserve to live.
Or one particular demon, to be specific.
Him.
Tsuzuki ran, sobbing, looking for some place where he could summon Touda without killing even more people.
He searched, sobbing, heart and mind and soul broken beyond repair.
Searched for a place to kill just one more.
He never made it that far.
Back in Meifu, things weren't going very smoothly, either.
Tatsumi was worried out of his mind.
Where was Hisoka and Tsuzuki? Why did they leave? What in the world was going on?
Unexpectedly, he slammed his pen against the desk, and massaged the bridge of his nose.
He couldn't calculate this month's figures while worrying about the two shinigami. After two hours trying, he'd finally given up.
He shouldn't let two people have this much control over his life, but it was too late to realize that now. Hisoka and Tsuzuki were part of him now.
There was a knock at the door, startling him out of his thoughts.
"Come in." He quickly rearranged his features so that he looked as calm and composed as ever, not even hinting at the storm of indesicion below the surface.
Gushoshin the younger floated in, carrying a folder of paper.
"Tatsumi?" he said, his voice shaking slightly. "I think you'd want to see this."
Tatsumi's ears perked up, eager for anything to get his mind off his worries. Gushoshin handed the folder to him.
"We've found signs of Muraki. Apparently, he's still alive, unfortunantly," he explained nervously.
Tatsumi's eyes narrowed. This wasn't good. "Where?"
"In Kyoto."
Tatsumi stood up, almost knocking his chair to the floor. Gushoshin tumbled backwards at the force of Tatsumi's panic; it was almost as bad as the time when Tsuzuki disappeared with Muraki after destroying half the buildings in the area.
"When was he last seen?" Tatsumi demanded.
"Yesterday. My brother and I are sorry that we haven't gotten this to you sooner, but we only found this now."
Tatsumi narrowed his eyes. "Why hasn't Watari notified me about this? I've put him in charge of tracking Muraki. Don't tell me he's too busy making his newfound plaything."
Gushoshin nodded.
Tatsumi was striding out of the office with a renewed sense of purpose and uneasiness.
"We need to recall Tsuzuki and Hisoka at once!"
Hisoka sat on the ground just outside the inn. The concrete was warm from the sun, and smooth from years of wear and tear.
He covered his face with his hands, ignoring the stares and questions of passing people.
What just happened?
He remembered in a haze, of being roughly awakened. He remembered staring into the blank, deep violet eyes of a demon who was half-crazed. He recalled being forcible shoved to his feet and pinned against the wall, having sharp claws tear into his skin. He remembered trying in vain to fight back, then realizing that there was no point. Tsuzuki was just too strong. He remembered giving in.
What happened? What's happening?
He remembered realizing that this was not Tsuzuki's fault, knowing this the moment Tsuzuki pulled away, horror and sanity now bright in the amethyst eyes.
Hisoka remembered just standing there staring at the door where Tsuzuki had been standing just moment ago, wondering what the heck just happened, and hearing the owner of the inn coming nearer. He remembered being afraid-of everything. He gave his money-everything he had in his wallet (he didn't trust banks)-so that they could pay off the owner, and then ran.
But what happened?
Something happened to Tsuzuki. Hisoka knew deep in his heart that Tsuzuki would never have hurt Hisoka, intentionally or otherwise. Ever.
Oh, no. Just think of how Tsuzuki must feel right now. His emotionally-unstable partner, who would lead himself to believe that anything was his fault, who's probably going off blaming himself for almost killing Hisoka.
But to go and confront Tsuzuki now...that wasn't a very good idea. For all Hisoka knew, it would just set him off further.
He would wait a few hours, then find Tsuzuki and hope for the best. Wait a few hours, then he needed to be with Tsuzuki. To help, to defend, to comfort, he wasn't exactly sure.
All he knew was that something big has happened, and he was needed. Not just yet, though.
But soon.
Soon, everything will be all sorted out, and everything will end up fine, and it will be a happily-ever-after for everyone.
Hisoka snorted.
Yeah, right.
(1) Yes, the owner of the inn has no name. I suck at making names, especially ones in Japenese. Knowing me, I'd probably accidentally name him SadisticEvilSerialMurderer, or FluffyPinkUnicorns, or Jdsafjejfndjfhjkfhkdhfjdh, or something like that :P So, no name.