Trigger warning: there is a bit more description about Hisoka getting raped so proceeded with caution.

"Tsu-Tsuzuki!" Hisoka stuttered. All the moisture in his mouth had left, making him feel as if someone stuffed a bunch of cotton balls on his tongue. Hisoka's stomach churned, twisting into knots of fear, nervousness, happiness, anger, and so many other emotions. Hisoka barely managed to stumble to his feet before launching himself into the bathroom and vomiting into the toilet. Hisoka's head felt as though it was about to split in two, like someone was driving an axe right through the center.

Oh right, Tsuzuki actually did drive an axe through Hisoka's head once. But he was possessed. It was only one of the memories that assaulted Hisoka's mind.

They didn't come one at a time, oh no. That would be too easy and peaceful. And the entire universe was hell-bent on making Hisoka as miserable as possible by taking away all the happiness he had ever had. Instead, the lost memories came in all at once. The dam had finally broken and Hisoka's forgotten years had all rushed to fill the gaps as quickly as possible.

Hisoka became aware that he was now staring at the ceiling, only to have his head crack on the bathroom floor a second later. His vision blacked out. He didn't know for how long. It could have been hours, minutes, or seconds. Whatever the case, when Hisoka did manage to pry his eyes open, the memories had slowed to a trickle. The last one to fall into place was Tsuzuki, tucking him into bed and telling Hisoka he loved him.

Hisoka bit down on his hand at the memory, hard enough for the skin to break and the blood to start pouring out. He squeezed his eyes shut, continuing to bite down on his hand. He would not cry now. He could not cry now. Taking a few deep breaths, Hisoka leaned against the wall and let go of his hand. He stared at the ugly half moon tear on it. He had to stay strong. Yamada was working for Muraki, that Hisoka was sure about. So he might still be keeping an eye on him, even in his own home.

Hisoka suppressed a shudder. The thought of that man watching all of the time made Hisoka's skin crawl. If Tsuzuki was here, he would wrap Hisoka up in his trench coat and get him some tea. But he wasn't here.

"All my fault. It's all my fault," he whimpered. Five months ago Hisoka wasn't strong enough to fight off Muraki. He could feel the mad doctor's hands on his skin. He could feel the pain, the humiliation. He remembered begging for Tsuzuki to come save him.

The curse marks once more burned their way onto his skin, swirling around his body to create that delicate and beautiful pattern that made Hisoka scream. Five months ago, Muraki once again stripped him. But instead of putting another curse on Hisoka, he merely traced the patters already there. Hisoka could still feel his tongue, his fingers, his lips tracing over the patterns, setting fire to Hisoka's skin to the point where he wanted to tear it off. Muraki had called him beautiful that night.

Launching forward once more Hisoka continued to vomit, though nothing really came up now except for bile. Hisoka wanted Tsuzuki to come through the door and tell him it was all a bad dream. But that wouldn't happen. Hisoka was weak and had gotten himself captured. That was the reason Tsuzuki wasn't here now. He had given up his freedom to keep Hisoka safe. He had given into his worse nightmare all so that Hisoka could live again.

"Idiot," Hisoka managed to choke out. It wasn't right for Tsuzuki to go through so much pain for someone who wasn't even worth it.

Finally, Hisoka's tremors began to die down. His head was still pounding and his stomach was twisting. But he didn't feel like vomiting again. Hisoka pulled himself off the floor and went to rinse his mouth.

He caught a look at his reflection. It was a mess. His skin was pale and ashen, his eyes were red and puffy. And his hair was a knotted mess packed down with sweat. He could see his cheek bones looking more hollowed and pronounced than the last time he looked in the mirror. And there were dark, ugly circles under his eyes.

Shaking his head, Hisoka stumbled out of the bathroom. He looked down at the sweater he was wearing, blushing as he remembered stealing that from Tsuzuki some time ago. Giving himself one last hug in the sweater, he let the emotions Tsuzuki had left on it wash over him once more. He smiled softly as he felt things such as happiness and a strange obsession with apple pies and cinnamon roles worm their way into his memory. It was almost as if Tsuzuki was actually here with Hisoka.

He had stolen the sweater after a particularly bad week of nothing but nightmares. He wanted something he could sleep with so that he wouldn't feel so alone. He didn't want to feel scared of every shadow and every crack. Tsuzuki would have probably shared a bed with Hisoka if he had just asked. But Hisoka's pride and unwillingness to accept any help stopped him from asking. So the next obvious logical step was to steal this ugly-ass sweater from the eighties that should have been burned years ago. Hisoka sighed once more before taking off the sweater and kicking it far under the bed.

He felt cold and lonely. Already he wanted to put the sweater back on. But Muraki had people watching Hisoka. Who knew what kind of deal Tsuzuki had made with the man to keep him safe. Hisoka couldn't risk Tsuzuki's life by giving away the fact that he remembered everything. So he had to pretend like Tsuzuki was just a name he heard in passing. He had to pretend like purple eyes and chocolate cake meant nothing to him. He had to pretend like Yamada was always his partner.

But he wasn't going to let Muraki win. No. This time, the man had gone too far. It was one thing to mess with the Hall of Candles. It was something else entirely to mess with the only person Hisoka had ever loved. He would get Tsuzuki back even if it killed him.

A man like Muraki always leaves a trail. And he is never satisfied. Just because he managed to grab Tsuzuki didn't mean that he would be content with that. There were other victims out there. Others that could be linked back to Muraki. Hisoka began to pace around the room, trying to figure out how to go about finding this information discreetly.

He had access to most of the files of the dead. Those wouldn't be a problem to find. And whatever he didn't have access to he could ask someone to get them for him. He was well liked in the Ministry so that wouldn't be a problem.

In the end, Hisoka would have to go about this as slow as possible and as fast as possible at the same time. Yamada couldn't even suspect that Hisoka was onto them. He would just start with the Dracula case he had first worked with Tsuzuki. Those files would be buried under mounds of other cases but it was a good thing to start with.

"Tsuzuki, just wait a little longer. I'm going to get you out no matter what," Hisoka whispered. He didn't bother flicking off the light and instead fell right into bed. His mind was churning with ideas and hypotheses about Muraki and where he could find him. Hisoka could already tell he wasn't going to get a lot of sleep this month.

oOoOoOo

Hisoka slipped some old case files in with the new ones, trying to look as innocent as possible. He wasn't entirely what Yamada was capable of. Hisoka slipped into his chair and began reading up on a case that had happened back in the 60s. He didn't figure it would help with his search for Muraki, but it did help establish his excuse of wanting to become a better shinigami. A pencil bounced off his head. Hisoka snapped his gaze up to see Yamada spinning innocently in his chair. He was grinning at Hisoka with all his teeth.

"What?" Hisoka snapped.

Yamada smirked, putting his foot on the floor to stop spinning. "Just wanted to see if I could do it. Why are you looking at cold cases?"

"I'm looking over unsolved cases to see where the cases went cold and things that could have been done differently. The better we understand out previous mistakes, the better we can prevent them in the future," Hisoka lied. Yamada threw back his head and laughed.

"My God, you are such a fucking teacher's pet. How is this going to help your uselessness?" Hisoka stiffened under the criticism. Even though Yamada was nothing more than a lying pawn of Muraki's, he still hated when anyone thought he was useless.

"If I'm so useless then how come I do most of the paperwork?" Hisoka asked through gritted teeth. Yamada went back to spinning in his chair. The emptiness inside him began to wash over Hisoka, making his organs clench and his temperature drop. Hisoka was convinced Yamada was there to slowly suck out Hisoka's soul and whither him away to nothing.

"Cause you're too weak to say no. All you know how to do is say 'yes sir', all hoping that one day someone will come along and acknowledge you for it." Hisoka clenched his teeth. He did not need this right now. He had to save Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki was all that mattered. "But you know, kid, I don't think that's ever going to happen. No one needs a needy, psycho kid like yourself hanging around. Just face the facts already and quit," Yamada said. Hisoka took a deep breath. Oh he couldn't wait to find Muraki so he could kick his ass, and Yamada's too.

"If I quit, then you'll actually have to work."

"True." Yamada shrugged. "So make sure the paperwork gets done. Alright, kid?" Yamada said. He stood up and waltzed out the door. He probably wouldn't return for the rest of the day. He was probably meeting with Muraki.

oOoOoOo

Finally, Hisoka managed to get through the last of the paperwork for the day. He also managed to gather several more case files of possible Muraki crimes and slipped those into the bag. He darted out the door, avoiding everyone who might stop him and worry.

Once home, Hisoka flipped on all the lights and set out a map he had bought. There was over 75 case files to look through, and more at the office. Starting with the ones Hisoka knew Muraki was a part of, he marked on the map where they took place. After those were done, he began reading through the other files, seeing if they matched Muraki's style and if so, where they took place. Good thing he wasn't planning on sleeping any time soon.