Author's Notes: I apologize for the mini-hiatus. Moved out of the dorms into a gorgeous apartment and had to get all my stuff here, plus the hecticness of finals and art projects, then changed my major:3 Sorry for the shortness of chapter, but somehow this size feels more appropriate. Sometimes they'll be longer though, not saying they'll always be so short.

Disclaimer: YnM and everything within not mine, 'cept for plot and OCs.

-snerks- darkrini, thanks for the return review! I'm slow to plot so most things I write have to cook and simmer down, y'know. I don't usually cliffhang too badly.

-hugs Stratus5 back- Thanks so much! I prefer quality updates to quantity updates as you can tell. Sorry for the short chapter!

Hi Literary Eagle, -laughs- YnM merchandise? That's an idea… but I wouldn't know where I'd get purry, living ribbons. :)

Hey happygreendragon, thanks for reviewing!

'Ello TheOneYouCallWe, that's ok. Really. Yes it was shorter, and I think it might continue being shorter. :(

To all Readers: Thanks for reading!

This chapter was a breeze to write but a blackhole to edit. XD Enjoy!

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"What progeny could issue from such convoluted beginnings?
Inside the womb of Ellen sperm met egg.
A long poison, still virulently strong
from the past of flayings, witches, burnings,
went into that fusion

The helpless embryo passively received its legacy
of fear, intersticed through the cankered being. (What does
fear do to flesh that should be spirit's beginning?)…"

by Eithne Strong, from Flesh.. the greatest Sin


Left arm still in a sling, he walked his paces within the fertility clinic, nodding to other doctors, and charming flocks of women (many men turned away in irritated envy) wherever he went, even if the long silky hair half pulled away from his face, hid the grotesque lump that had been his right ear. Tight skin scarred him from the disfigured earlobe along his cheekbone and straight down his neck and farther. His eyes flicked up at the clock, break for lunch.

He left the offices into the cheerfully dull sunny weather. He preferred windy cloudy days, or when a typhoon passed overhead. The strength of the gods pushing against the world with all their might, yet ironically never able to annihilate the sentient prolific creatures that overpopulated it.

Under the carefully pruned shade of a tree, he sat down with his warm can of tea and obento, meticulously unpacking it.

"You bastard!"

Several people looked his way when someone shouted at him. He merely lifted an elegant eyebrow, looking up at the stranger knowing precisely who it was in an instant. "And who might you be?' He purred in his best 'innocent' tone.

"Don't give me that. Why the hell did you do it!"

He was grabbed quite forcefully by the front of his jacket, half-picked up off the bench he sat upon. "I see, so Tsuzuki prefers older men is that why, Boy? To think, you would accelerate the growth of cells in a state of—"

His doll snarled at him, letting him fall on his rear abruptly retreating away from him, as he should. Muraki did entertain the notion of provoking him, since it was a delightful idea to observe and monitor his doll in his present state, all lean angles and a filled out face, and because over the past few days their connection had weakened substantially.

He briefly speculated over whether his size had brought enough change upon his abilities to nullify the careful construction of his link, then dismissed the thought only partly because his lovely Tsuzuki appeared, a mite out of breath and rather irate.

"I thought after Kyoto –huff–you would have known better than to interfere with human souls!"

"And nonhumans too?" He countered easily. Tsuzuki had stepped into it; was it a doctor's fault that he couldn't let a weakness alone when it came to the amethyst-eyed beauty?

He stiffened like the doctor had hit him, and Muraki smirked at his reaction. He hadn't changed at all.. Tsuzuki-san. Now if I only knew the reason for his unexpected visit.

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Holding up a hand to pause Tsuzuki's furor, my doll had recovered. He had grown an aggressive disobedient backbone; I grew increasingly annoyed and bored from my toy's obvious jealousy of my affections with Tsuzuki. It was the maker who came first, not the product.

"Tell us why you took your stepbrother's soul and placed it within a demon body."

That, I was not expecting as my eyes widened slightly at what was said. Saki?

I smirked, murmuring in a tone that beset the look in my eyes. "I am terribly sorry to ruin your belief that I am a vortex of villainous intent. However, I sincerely enjoyed your visit. Now, of course, if you wish to ask for my assistance…" I leered at Tsuzuki intently, who hadn't managed to get more than a meter from me when the boy had begun to speak so impertinently. I leaned closer towards him shortening the gap between us; he was very defenseless against my smiling allure.

But, of course, the boy interfered again; I shouldn't be surprised of his unenviable forwardness, but it was a bit unsettling to watch my toy act unafraid of me. I narrowed my eyes at him as he loudly declared I would do no such thing, probably sensing that I wouldn't offer help free of charge, and grabbed my Tsuzuki-san to disappear to that land of the Dead. He truly was a selfish little boy, but at the moment that wasn't my concern. Saki's soul was unharmed, and within a demon vessel no less. Now, what mattered was whom I would have to exterminate to take him back.

I sat down to finish my box lunch as painstakingly and as thoroughly as I handled my surgeries. A flick of my eyes to my watch told me my break was regrettably over.

I had thought his soul had burned up with the rest of Shion University. A pity he escaped those terrible Hell flames, when they disfigured my body… but I was also overjoyed that he was alive.

Heading towards my office, I knew I would find Saki, and then I would kill him as many times as I wanted. After all… the flesh of demons is hard to destroy.


Crushed in complete darkness. Lungs burning as she asphyxiated again. There was so much pushing down from above. She was effectively trapped… fading… Alive yet again with her blood pounding in her ears she could hardly. …
"He didn't do it." Hisoka looked to the side frowning.

I opened my mouth and shut it just as easily. Then who did? My eyebrows furrowed.

"If Muraki got a hold of this Shidou soul, it wouldn't be pleasant." My partner continuing his frown and side-glance, eyes slightly unfocused. "He definitely did not instigate this case, but..."

As much as I hated the man and wanted to do something to him on the behalf of his victims, it was a relief that he was a dead-end and that it was no longer required for the case to talk to him. A relief because as I brought final judgment on others (their souls), I brought judgment on myself which effectively halted my ability to protect the people I cared about, and Muraki could both incense my violent rage and drowning guilt at the same time.

But, for now, I curiously stared at my partner (treading softly over my feelings for him) until he shrugged dismissing whatever he was about to say. Before silence could swallow us further, I chirpily spoke up. "Let's go visit the Gushoushin!"

Hisoka grunted, and we transitioned to Enmacho, home sweet home.


His eyes focused, lifting his heavy head from the chair he was in. A glimmer of intelligence sparked questions. He'd been lost for a long time, but he couldn't recall what or who or how it began. He flexed fingers against the worn upholstery.

He remembered many things. About a blank, ceramic face. A sword. About death and glass and a number of other images that had no basis or theme to connect, beyond a frame of golden curls. The memory was unblinking and fragmented.

Where was he?

His neck jerked as he tried to move; it was almost as if he never knew how. Carefully concentrating he opened and closed his fist, then lifting both arms, hands outward, he shoved them down against the chair in an attempt to stand up. With a noisy clamor the chair groaned as it snapped apart under the force, he felt himself fall back and flung his arms forward to try to catch himself.

He flopped forward onto the ground, knees bent and unhelpful, eyes glazing as he realized how tired he was.

A door opened flooding light into the room as the old wiry man ambled in to check on his precious ayatsuri.


After they passed by Watari's office lab and heard a series of small giddy giggles from within, Hisoka became alert. Most of the ramblings of the scientist's mind were too technical or too disconnected to make sense of them, but the sensitive empath knew better than to visit him.

Looking towards his partner, who was still unsettled by Muraki, he thought about how he had been able to grab him so forcefully, not to mention be so close to the murderous bastard without either being overwhelmed with darkness or insanity.

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It didn't make any sense! First, thoughts were becoming more troublesome around fewer people, with strangers even. Then, Tsuzuki's thoughts and moods were as clear as day, and now I didn't even get sucked into Muraki's murky personality? Just what the hell is going on with me?

I was poked and almost fell on my face, reflexively compensating for Tsuzuki's quicksand mind.

Damnit! He's not making this any easier. Then, he prodded me again as if my side-step was a coy maneuvering to request his contact more. Exhaustion and a slew of other things I'd been pressing back suddenly flooded forward in a torrent, the crack in my wall ultimately ending in collapse. As my walls crumbled, I mentally clung to whatever I could to not get stuck in Tsuzuki's worry, but there was nothing but me and it's hard to hold onto splitting pieces of yourself when you are disoriented.

Why?


Sulking, Sachiya kicked a rock, as he walked over the area he had been summoned away from in the encounter with the soul-possessed demon.

The two 'backup' Shinigami had rushed off after a curt goodbye, leaving him in the dust, the old farts.

The creepy doll shop with a prominently displayed 'Closed' sign in the front window stood behind him. With his camera bag in tow he had scoured the surrounding forest area with no luck, finding nothing as the reports had declared. On a recently cleared area, he sat down with a loud sigh, shaking his head and complaining to the trees.

A burst of dirt ejected upward and sent him to his feet again, bag in hand. "Zombie!" He yelped before the dust cleared and a waxy, slender hand with uneven fingernails clutching weakly upwards came into view.

Alarmed and ecstatic at once, he clasped his hand with hers reassuringly, transitioning to their department's medical ward, the unmarked grave collapsing once the mass it contained disappeared.


A cry of alarm interrupted my work in my lab and, worried, I opened the door to find Bon had collapsed and Tsuzuki was clutching him tightly looking upset, easily holding his weight even with the significant size difference between them.

Holding the door open, I chided him. "Bring him in here to lie down!"

Gesturing to follow, I turned to the cot against the wall that I fit into well enough but would be too small for Hisoka, and ushered him to lay him down so I could check Bon's temperature, pulse, and pupils. "What happened?"

"I poked him. That's all." His face was raw and slightly haunted as he stared at Bon's unblinking open eyes.

"Well, other than his pupils being contracted and unresponsive, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with him. I can only deduce that he was overloaded by your 'poking'. He should be fine soon." I managed to grin at him and patted his shoulder understandingly. "Why don't you go out and get some fresh air or something? I'll watch him."

Tsuzuki, that stubborn git, shook his head hands clasped. "I'll wait until he wakes up."

"Fine, fine." I stood up, hands in my oversized doctor's jacket. Was I finally ready to face the consequences? I glanced at his face and his form while 003 hooted tiredly from her perch. A few minutes later, I blew out a stream of air at my heavy bangs, and readjusted my glasses.

"Tsuzuki… the aging potion I made was flawed. He won't be returning to normal any time soon, and I don't know how permanent the effect is. I made an antidote, but he'll reject it because of it's sex-changing side-effect, even though it's temporary, lasting a day at most."

I looked at his eyes to try to read the stony expression. "I also have to apologize for the harassment you both went through." I beamed at him with a relaxed grin, not certain if I'd receive an enraged or stunned Tsuzuki. "I incited it! I couldn't bear not to miss the opportunity to test my newest potion out, and you two were late!" 003 fluttered off her usual stand by the rack of clean test-tubes and Erlenmeyer flasks and nested in my hair, hooting and most likely giving Tsuzuki an aggressive, protective stare.

Tsuzuki's face stilled, almost cold, then erupted into a tentative grin. "I thought you were behind it. The timing gave it away."

My jaw slackened, before I hastily spun around renewing my fervor, holding up a vaguely discolored potion. "Ohhh… Then you must try my newest specialty!" I crowed in glee, cackling.

"Thanks, Watari."

I hated it when he gave me that warrantless, sympathetic look. Couldn't he for once scream and rage at someone? I sighed setting it down and pocketed my hands, giving him an inquisitive, amused look. "Shouldn't I be the one saying 'sorry', not you saying 'thanks'?" I fiddled with my glasses. "I really screwed up, especially since the aging potion had an effect on my spiritual power when I ingested it, and it remained. For a little while, inanimate objects went haywire when I touched them, until I learned to control it. Surely you sensed it or have seen the change in Bon?"

His eyes flickered towards the prone form and nodded, head hanging down against his hand, elbow on his knee. The perfect image of a man in misery. "He's grown distant, almost like it's painful to be around me."

"Well, think about that, Tsuzuki. What is he?"

Knowing the answer, Tsuzuki straightened up in his chair and glanced nervously down at the figure.

"Yes. If his ability has gotten stronger, then it's not because he doesn't want to be around you. It's because you're always in pain."


He was floating. The darkness seemed to still time and hold light captive.

A village in the tatters of a blaze assaulted his vision. Those who asserted pain were dead, but so were the few who had done nothing, fleeing from the uncontrollable purple bolts licking from his form.

Why did it hurt so much to live? Why couldn't people understand the agony every breath, every moment? He didn't remember it being this hard to struggle on.

Blackened hands shriveled by quick-fire reached up, futile in their last attempt to grasp the sky. The wet grass by the river cooled the soles of his feet.

It was Emptiness, and it stretched on and on and on. Never-ending, eternal.

He was a monster.Why was he cursed with this power? Why had EnmaDaiOh-sama chosen him as his servant from all others?

He still wanted to die.

He had frightened his new partner, Tatsumi, when he had sliced himself open, raw and maniac from the orphanage case. Less than a week later, their partnership ended. Poor Tatsumi.

Something fluttered then, in the distance. It caught his attention. He shielded his eyes from its intense light, blinking and unable to adjust to it.

"His parents locked him in a cell." "Their own child?"

Reaching out, he stopped. What was he thinking? He wasn't a part of that. He'd find out what kept that bright soul here and send it on, as he had done to so many before.

The man of white had left him a gift of blood splattered on the concrete, half-congealed before he splashed over it. Stark horror encased him, jolting his being with renewed energy. How could someone be so purposefully malevolent?

'I love you', he whispered out to the light, but never touching, never really voicing it, fearful of the backlash and rejection. He would remain content with the depth of their friendship; nothing else mattered more than the calming presence. It was a selfish wish to want him to remain, rightfully wrought with stress and uncertainty.

Hisoka realized he was dreaming again.

TBC.

A/N: I don't like Muraki and never will, but guess what? I hate bashers and flamers more. :) I hope I wrote him right, (though I'm sure I did.)