Told you it wouldn't be long...it was mostly done, just separated for easier reading. Enjoy it. It doesn't happen often.

Evanescent Days: Track 01

Everybody's Fool v.1

Yami No Matsuei Alterverse

by Daemonchan

:warning: SPOILERS! AU - 3 years following Kyoto. Kurosaki family information stolen from Gensoukai and Kamakura Hen. All that stuff with Kurikara never happened. Manga and anime based. Translations from theria(dot)net.

:author's note: Going quicker now. So much explaining of this world to do. And it gets worse from here on in...Oh, and I'm REALLY making this up as I go along...

:disclaimer: nothing in this fic but the storyline is mine. Lyrics borrowed from Evanescence and characters from Matsushita-sensei.

kogatana-little katana; small blade or sword

:thanks: xangel of death sarah,

:additional note: my mailing list was erased by yahoo. if you were on that list, please resubcribe... http/groups. yahoo. com/group/daemonchan

:lyrics:

-Yatonokami-

Impressions and telepathic thought

- - - - -

In the same breath of Suzaku's final scream there came a terrific roar as Sohryuu rose from the tempestuous waters of Kasane's lake, locked in battle with the demon.

Tsuzuki yelped and tried to dodge the blast of super-heated water and steam that accompanied the water dragon's angry roar. "It's definitely not a yuurei!" he shouted to Tatsumi. The secretary didn't bother to reply to the obvious comment, instead dodging steam and water to finish drawing the shadows together to ensnare the angry beast. Sohryuu was larger and stronger than the beast, his coils crushing the demon's obsidian scales.

"Hold him, Sohryuu!" Tsuzuki called, and Tatsumi took his cue to send the shadows again, this time drawing from beneath the two dragons to the darkest, deepest areas of the lake. An enormous hand, demon enclosed in it's tight fingers, rose high above the water, denying any aqueous power to its captive. It began to roar and scream, struggling to bite the ephemeral fingers of its shadow prison.

Shivering with wet in the dawn air, Tsuzuki stood beside Tatsumi, staring up at Sohryuu and the demon. "Sohryuu says it was summoned by the Yatonokami. It stole the likeness of Kasane's body from Rui's mind. It is their punishment."

"Punishment?" the secretary echoed, hand clenching unconsciously. The shadow fist mirrored and the demon roared again. Sohryuu responded, questioning it.

"The Yatonokami is afraid. It does not know if it will survive Nagare if he should die. And with Hisoka dead...the Yatonokami has summoned the other demon as well, its last chance to outlive the curse." Tsuzuki's face tightened. "It is their punishment for failing to produce an heir. Rui to be haunted by her dead sister, Nagare by his beloved wife."

Tatsumi was suspicious of the demon's eagerness to betray the Yatonokami. "Why does it tell us this?"

Another tense moment passed as Tsuzuki communicated with Sohryuu. "It says it owes no allegiance to the Yatonokami. It was a fluke that he had been trapped within the form and set to haunt the Kurosaki. He has been dying for years. He asks..." The dark haired shinigami stopped suddenly. "He asks that we kill him. He cannot go back to the Makai as he is."

Mercy for demons was not an encouraged practice for shinigami. They were petty creatures, delighting in the torture of humans, dead or no. Sealed and destroyed, a fate met by any demon who thought to cross the forbidden barrier between Makai and Chijou.

"Can you do it?" Tatsumi asked, steeling himself against the inevitable care and pity that rose when he asked such things of his colleague. Tsuzuki was still quite human, even after several decades as shinigami.

Surprisingly, there was no hesitation. With a gesture to Sohryuu, the demon met a swift death in the water dragon's impossibly strong coils, body crushed and broken. It began to dissolve into ash before it even hit the water, nothing remaining but what would now become part of the very lake it haunted. Sohryuu faded with a farewell roar to his master.

The thoroughly drenched pair of shinigami managed their way back to the main house, leaving a black silt water trail that followed them from the newly purged Kasanekefuchi. Tsuzuki pouted the entire way, lips trembling miserably as the cool morning air chilled him further. No one met them at the door, and they had no choice but to enter the house as they were, water and all.

"We should report to Nagare. I'm sure he'll be expecting us."

Even Tsuzuki caught the irony of the statement. Nagare had most likely been praying that the demon of the Kasanekefuchi would finish off his problems for him.

They stopped sharply as they stood before the door that would lead to the waiting room where Nagare had first seen them. The shoji slammed back, presenting the surprised shinigami with the enraged face of Nagare's older brother, Kurosaki Iwao.

The face was that of an older Nagare, with crow's feet at the corners of ordinary brown eyes. His black hair was streaked with gray, long like the younger's, pulled back severely, like an ancient shogun. The kimono was of a quality that was equal to anything Nagare owned; obviously Iwao didn't suffer from not being named head of the family. He hadn't even bothered with courtesy in his visit, still wearing his shoes, instead of tabi or house slippers.

Tatsumi bowed deeply as Iwao passed, elbowing Tsuzuki to get him to do the same. The man passed without noticing, as if the shadow master were part of the furniture. Only the sound of the elder Kurosaki's shoes could be heard, the slap-clunk of wooden geta, until they too passed into silence as Iwao exited the manor.

Tsuzuki kept his eyes trained on the floor, watching the growing puddle of water spread from his feet. A stray piece of pond weed hung wetly down his forehead, directing water from his hair across his nose and lips. He dared not move until Tatsumi did.

"Iwao!" came a shout from within Nagare's sitting room. Tsuzuki could only see two white tabi clad feet as they too rushed past, pursuing the elder brother. "Iwao, please! Matte!"

The sounds of Nagare disappeared into the house, replaced by two familiar voices approaching. Watari, carrying his doctor's satchel in one hand and Miya's arm in the other, stopped with what sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter as they came upon Tatsumi and Tsuzuki looking like two nearly drowned rats.

"What happened to you?" Watari blurted, trying unsuccessfully to choke back a laugh at the bedraggled pair. Tsuzuki was splattered liberally with pond muck, dark hair streaked with black scum and dripping brown water onto his clothes and the floor. Tatsumi was in a similar state, but managed to look more dignified.

"We," Tsuzuki began, "were exorcising the demon in the lake. What were you doing?"

Miya came to Watari's defense. "Rui-sama had another attack. Watari-sensei was doing his job."

Tatsumi let Tsuzuki vent his accusations, knowing that Watari was bound by his oath as a doctor to assist Rui should she need it. This superseded the sincere promise he had made to Tsuzuki to look after their youngest member while they were gone. Speaking of which...He'd better sideline Tsuzuki before he decided to pick a fight with the already guilt ridden Watari.

"Where is Hisoka?"

- - - - -

I couldn't remember a time I'd seen my father so angry. In my mind, he was always a cool shadow of a man, watching without care as I was trained to take his place, as my unwanted powers developed, as I sickened and slowly died.

He'd appeared in the graveyard soon after the grave robbers left and only my empathy saved me from a nasty confrontation. Familiar words drove themselves into my head, my powers caught unaware.

Iwao, you bastard! Why?

My former hiding place was needed once again, and I tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I still didn't trust Tatsumi's assurance that Father wouldn't recognize me. And again I questioned Enma's wisdom. Why the hell am I here?

It would have been better if Father had screamed when he came upon the desecration. Instead, caustic anger I had never been able to forget cut into my mind, shattering my long held walls. His thoughts poured into my head and I felt myself fading under the strength of his personality.

I have finally pleased, Father. Tonight...

A younger Iwao, storming away from an even younger Nagare, waiting patiently outside their father's chambers. Nagare biting back tears, wanting nothing more than to be friends with his brother.

"Enter, Nagare-san," his father beckoned and Nagare didn't hesitate as he knelt at his father's feet, sure that he was about to have all his hopes realized.

"I bestow upon you the responsibility of this household, protectors of Kamakura, descendants of honored Ren-sama. Do you swear to uphold this, to sacrifice your life as Ren-sama once did, and to follow traditions, including producing an heir at an appointed time?"

The words were hollow, having been repeated since time immemorial among those chose to head the ancient house. Nagare found himself nodding, too caught up in his excitement to really listen to what the oath was asking of him.

A blow to the side of his head brought him down. "Say it aloud, baka!"

"I...I do. I swear," he promised quickly, hand holding his face. It was not the first time his father had hit him, but he had a feeling it was the last. The older man seemed to lose vigor then, slumping back into an awaiting chair. He waved at a bamboo tray set with a single opaque glass.

"Drink, and seal yourself to the Kurosaki, to Kamakura, and the duties of Ren-sama."

Nagare approached the glass with trepidation. The liquid just below the lip was deep brown, looking, much to his dismay, like old blood.

"Drink!" his father thundered, half raising from his chair. Nagare didn't dare hesitate further and swallowed the contents of the cup in several gagging sips. The liquid was vile, and left his throat burned. He threw the cup down after he finished, turning to his father.

His father looked infinitely old then, much older than he should have, hair nearly white at only forty years of age. He was smiling, a pitiful look that chilled Nagare's mind.

"Curse of Ren-sama, God Killer of Kamakura!"

A burning pain began radiating in increasing spikes from his abdomen. Nagare stumbled against the table and brought it crashing to the floor with him. "Father...what..."

His father did not move from his chair, his face oddly peaceful. "The true curse of the Kurosaki. A fitting end for such a son."

The Yatonokami filled Nagare's mind, centuries of hate and rage building into a powerful scream that ripped from the younger Kurosaki son's lips. "What have you done to me?" Nagare managed, as he rose to his feet.

"What was done to me, by my own father, and his father before him. To be head of this family you must take the spirit of the Yatonokami into your body, until you produce as heir to take your place..." He could hear the sneer in his father's voice. "But, you, Nagare... I fully expect the Kurosaki curse to end with you." The old man smiled maliciously. "Be thankful. You saved your brother Iwao from this fate. A fate you will come to realize that you deserve."

BREATHE!

My self came crashing back into my body, saved only by the grace of my father moving swiftly away from the graves, a new purpose in mind. Pain blossomed behind my eyes, the final impression from my father.

Kill you, Iwao...

I was torn. Morbid fascination brought on by the revelation of my father's sordid past made me want to follow him, to glean what I could of my family from his chaotic thoughts and emotions. Years I'd been tutored about the family and Kurosaki Ren...nothing could have prepared me for the truth of my father's sad life. Still, I hadn't seen any of my partners before leaving the house to follow the strange summons, and hadn't tried to report in. Tsuzuki must be nearing meltdown about now.

No, there would never be another chance for me. Enma-sama had sent me here for a reason, and I hoped it was this.

With that purpose firmly in mind, I set off after my father.

- - - - -

Tsuzuki had been running for their room before Tatsumi had even finished the question, Watari following guiltily. Miya remained, hands fluttering helplessly at her sides. Tatsumi decided to see if she was still as willing to reveal what she knew of the family today as she had been last night.

"Where is Kurosaki-sama?" Tatsumi asked, masking his suspicion at the patriarch's sudden departure. The door had barely closed behind Iwao before Nagare was storming down the hall, teeth bared in rage.

Miya smiled tightly. "He visits Hisoka-sama's grave...whenever Iwao-sama comes."

"Never his son?" Tatsumi probed gently, somehow knowing the sad answer before the maid could give it.

"Oh no," Miya corrected sadly, her eyes falling. "Hisoka, his son...It's almost as if he never was...They are buried at the same headstone, but you'd never realize that there were two by the same name..."

Tatsumi was suddenly glad that Hisoka was resting. There seemed no end to what father did to son, even after death. "Let's collect Tsuzuki and the others. I'd like to visit Hisoka's grave if we may."

"Of course, sensei," Miya answered, bowing slightly. They hadn't made it ten feet before Tatsumi was knocked to the ground by a wet bundle of inu, Tsuzuki in hysterical tears as he gripped the collar of Tatsumi's ruined suit.

"He's gone! Probably thought we'd abandoned him...maybe even kidnapped..."

A well placed smack sent the shinigami backward, eyes swirling with the pain. Tatsumi stood, adjusting his glasses and looked to the more coherent Watari for an explanation.

"He hasn't been gone long. He changed clothes and is probably still here on the grounds."

"Think, Tsuzuki. Where might Kurosaki go?"

Slightly sullen, Tsuzuki rubbed his sore cheek. "I don't know. His room?"

Watari shook his head, a denial that was too quick for Tatsumi's liking. "He would have had to pass Rui-sama's room and neither I nor Miya-san saw him."

That left another possibility. The same idea rose in Tsuzuki's mind and he shuddered violently, hands going to his shoulders.

"Enma, I hope not," he whispered. "I'll go." He looked up at Miya, uncommon seriousness in his amethyst eyes. "Where is the sakura tree, Miya-san?"

:without your mask
where will you hide:

The servants at Iwao's mansion bowed low, refusing to answer anything Nagare asked. It was obvious that they had been expecting him, standing ready to escort as he crossed the threshold, exchanging his geta for slippers. They merely escorted him to the main room where Iwao saw to guests. His brother sat on a dais in a large chair that more closely resembled a Western throne, a deep red wood carved with images of dragons and phoenixes.

"Please return what you have taken. I don't want things to be worse between us."

Nagare knelt at his brother's feet, desperate to defeat the past that had created such animosity between the two brothers. Iwao watched disdainfully, face indifferent.

"I have no idea what you mean, Nagare. What of yours could I want?"

The man on the floor flinched, knowing that Iwao's acerbic hatred was because of their father's last wish: that Nagare be the head of the Kurosaki house.

Father always favored you, Iwao. I was less than dirt to you both. No matter how I tried.

"The remains of my daughter. Please return them."

Iwao rose and came to stand in front of his prostrate brother. "I told you, I don't know what you're talking about."

With a growl, Nagare leapt up to tackle the shocked Iwao, taking both to the tatami mats on the floor. "You think I don't know what happened that night! Do you enjoy having the proof of your guilt under your own roof?"

Reaching back into the tie of his yukata, he drew a kogatana, placing the blade inches from Iwao's nose. "You strangled her! Because she was a girl!"

Staring down the blade to his brother's murderous visage, Iwao managed to sneer. "I was following tradition, the tradition that has kept our family in power for centuries. How convenient that you were out of the house that night, sent on important family business."

Nagare could feel his reason slipping away, lost beneath a wave of hatred. He screamed then, raising his arm to bury the short blade in his brother's hateful face.

-No.- came the undeniable command of the trapped god. -Iwao will be dealt with. I have plans for him as well.-

The blade intended for his life instead was buried in the tatami next to the elder Kurosaki's head. With a vicious shove, Iwao freed himself from Nagare's grip. The blade made a cracking rip in the floor, the younger man falling back with a cry of pain. The elder climbed to his feet, trying to look as if his brother's murder attempt hadn't rattled him.

"Why, Nagare? Why would father choose you? I was first born, I am the legitimate heir to this family! "

Why indeed? I tried so hard to please Father, and in the end...the curse was payment for my love.

Was it true then? Had Nagare so fully hidden himself in his position that he'd failed to realize the sad truth of his role in the family?

"I will be head of this family," Iwao hissed venomously. He nodded to his two bodyguards, the still figures slipping into quiet action. Iwao delighted in the archaic, the figures looking just like samurai stepped out of history. They did not touch Nagare, but waited at his arms, with the clear intent to remove him from his brother's sight.

With wounded pride, a defeated Nagare lifted himself from the floor. "No, Niisan, I'm afraid you won't." He laughed harshly. "And if you knew what it truly meant to be head of this family, you wouldn't wish for it so passionately."

He could hear Iwao's incensed sputtering behind him, but brushed past the samurai guards to take himself from the scene of his terrible epiphany. He had been helpless growing up, trapped by his need to please his father and brother. Then he had been the sacrifice for Iwao, he had been born to bear the necessary misfortune.

Now, he had the power, the power to change it all. He gripped the hilt of the blade intended for his brother's death and walked slowly from the last of his family.

- - - - -

:can't find yourself
lost in your lie:

Nagare ceased his journey home in a splash of frigid water, kneeling in the shallow river that separated the lands of the Kurosaki from the village. The kogatana he had intended to murder his brother with was still in his hand. Bringing the blade up, he stared into the highly polished metal, grimacing at the sight of his bound eyes.

There was nothing left. Iwao had finally destroyed any hope Nagare had ever held at repairing the rift between them. His body was nearly possessed fully by the demon within; he felt less human with each passing heartbeat.

There was only one honor left to him, only one gift he could give to his daughter, his wife...and his poor dead son.

-Nagare...don't you dare to...-

It ends here. The past comes full circle. Father knew. The kogatana's blade was frigid, much like the water he knelt in. His legs had gone numb and the fine silk yukata destroyed. Gooseflesh rose where he touched the small sword to his neck.

-Your father knew nothing...nothing...You cannot destroy me.-

I was nothing but a substitute for my brother...

"No," Nagare whispered, gripping the kogatana with white knuckles. "It ends here. My father's last wish..."

The end of the Kurosaki line. The end of the Yatonokami. The end of everything...

A quick movement and the blade arced across his throat. Red life began streaming from the wound as he fell backward into the water, knees twinging in protest. But soon even that minor discomfort was lost in the seeping cold that replaced his life.

He hadn't even removed his shoes before the old maid was pulling at his arm, screaming that Kasane...something had happened to Kasane. "Where is Kasane?"

No one had seen her. Nagare's first thought was for the baby she carried. Why would she wander off so close to term? Miyaka...that was the old maid's name he recalled, was gibbering again. He could only make out a few words between her panic and his own mounting terror that something horrific had happened in his absence.

"Iwao-sama came to help Kasane-sama with the birth. Your daughter...I'm sorry...she was born dead..."

His daughter was dead? Iwao had been here? The nebulous fear settled into an icy pit of knowing in his stomach. Daughter. Iwao. His brother had gotten to the baby...

"Kasane!" he screamed, pushing the old woman aside. "Kasane!" Her quarters were empty, her wardrobe full. The only thing missing were her geta. The lake...

Nagare raced out the door, running as fast as he was able in his formal kimono. His geta were lost quickly, his tabi shredding as he fought his way over grass and rocks to the lake. Soon, he was slipping on his bloody feet, but made it to the lakeshore, falling to his knees in shock.

There, in the dark water, was the light silk of Kasane's kimono, the bow of her obi glinting in the sunlight.

"Kasane!"

He raged into the water, dragged down as his own kimono became saturated. An eternity later found him dragging her onto the shore, ear pressed to her chest. No breath. No heartbeat. Her lips were blue, her skin white and cold. She had been dead too long to try and revive her.

No, she was moving, slowly sitting up and smiling at the frozen Nagare. "Nagare. Come to me."

"Kasane...you...you were dead..."

The corpse smiled gently. "Yes, love, I am dead. Soon...you will be too."

- - - - -

"Tousama..."

I was too late. I followed at what I'd thought was a safe distance, knowing the way to my uncle's mansion even after all these years. I'd waited outside the house after my father had been escorted inside, straining to pick up any impressions. The house was silent and my father too far away for any clear images or thoughts. When he'd left, his mind was curiously blank. I followed again, hoping his emotions would betray what had taken place between him and Iwao.

Too slow. Nothing, no hint in the few snatches of sadness I did sense. Nothing prepared me for what I saw in the river.

- - - - -

Tsuzuki drew back in pain, head tingling with what he knew was an unconscious summons from his partner. Hisoka was in pain, an emotional turmoil that sought out the only other soul that had ever brought comfort. Images filled his mind as he drew out an ofuda, creating the fragile bird that would relay the message to Tatsumi and Watari.

He turned the way he'd come, each step a prayer to the kami that he would make it to Hisoka's side in time.

- - - - -

The water was bright with blood. His kimono was dyed with it. It seemed the entire river bed was tainted with crimson. Was the Kurosaki line nothing more than this precious liquid flowing so easily away? Was this what had mattered so much?

I stepped closer, nearly afraid that the monster in hiding would come tearing from my father any moment. He had fallen on his back, knees still bent. Black hair fanned about him, sticking and cloying to the ruined clothes like old blood. His eyes opened briefly, eyes now human, a plain empty brown that reflected his broken soul.

His blue lips begin moving in a constant litany. "Kasane. Hisoka."

An instant of understanding and pity for my father flooded my heart. He had been nothing but a sacrifice for the family. A spare child to burden with the curse of generations.

I gently knelt in the water, hissing at the cold. The kogatana, his suicide weapon, was still clutched in one pale hand. I reached for the blade, bracing myself against anything that might come from the sorry figure before me.

Nothing. Empty, human nothing. I pry open the fingers, saddened by the cold skin beneath my hand. For a moment the water catches the blade and it slices back across my fingers. I stare dumbly at the blood that begins to well, fat drops falling to blend immaculately with my father's.

The basest of connections to the man who had helped create me...and destroy me.

My father struggled for a moment, eyes widening in shock. "Hisoka...kun..." His eyes closed suddenly and my father stopped breathing.