Dark Adaptation

by Hickok

NEW CONTENT ADDED! Bound to the eternal contract, can a life of sin be so easily shed? Muraki has all that he desires, yet so much remains unanswered. What manner of darkness unfurled between the walls of Muraki manor? Muraki x Tsuzuki and Oriya x Watari

21. Cutthroat Eurynomous: Part 4

Dark Adaptation

Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei or Descendants of Darkness. I filed for them in the divorce but Yoko Matsushita got everything but the goldfish. Not that the goldfish wasn't worth it… love ya Fluffy.

A/N: Behold, the next chapter of Dark Adaptation! (Grandiose gesture) You are so happy dear readers, that you have all simultaneously wet yourselves!

Muraki: I'm pretty sure they didn't, NaPap. Don't delude yourself. And by the by, is that lemon scene any closer now?

NaPap: (Checks clipboard) Ah yes… in the chapter after the next update.

Muraki: You mean to say that it is at last in the foreseeable future?! I can scarcely believe it!

NaPap: Oh Muraki… (Hugs Muraki) It's Watari and Oriya's lemon scene.

Muraki: … (Tightens grip around NaPap until her face goes blue)

Watari: Yay, that's good news for us! (Hugs Oriya)

Oriya: It certainly is. (Stares dreamily into the distance)

Muraki: This is ridiculous! This is chapter 21 and there hasn't been one sex scene between Mr. Tsuzuki and myself! Most other fanfiction writers would have us married by this stage!

NaPap: (Dying) You… wouldn't think… it was so… weird if this… was a… (Hack) real novel!

Muraki: You are nowhere near the standard of a true author! Tsuzuki and I will have our lemon scene and it will be soon! I kill you! (Snaps NaPap's spine clean in two)

Tsuzuki: Um… Muraki? I have to wonder, just how is NaPap expected to write the lemon scene, if you have just obliterated her from the face of the earth?

Muraki: Simple. I will bring her back as a soulless corpse and manipulate her very move just as I did Maria. Only NaPap will be attached to her computer just like that boy in one of Dean Koontz's novels.

Watari: (Shudders) Provided NaPap is outfitted with a diaper, right?

Muraki: Perhaps if she had written more smut she would be deserving of a diaper.

Watari: I say we don't even bother allowing her to continue with the writing of this story. Whack her with the T-Virus and let's all sit around and laugh while she turns into a shuffling man eating brain dead zombie.

Oriya: … How will we tell the difference?

NaPap: You shuts the Hell up!

Tsuzuki: Eeek! She's a ghost! (Hides behind Muraki)

Muraki: (Pervert voice as he gropes Tsuzuki) Oh my…

NaPap: I'm the author, dummy! Sorry but you can't just kill me off. How would you get your lemon scene written then?

Muraki: (Mutters) I'd write it myself…

NaPap: You can't write. You have no artistic skill.

Muraki: Never seemed to stop you…

NaPap: Right. Just for that, you're getting a Turban. (Turban appears on Muraki's head)

Muraki: Damn you!

Watari: (Laughs and points at Muraki)

NaPap: (Giggles evilly) Well, hello everyone! And welcome to chapter 21 of Dark Adaptation! The only good thing I can say about this chapter is that it means we're now only two updates from a verifiable lemon! (Sighs impatiently) I'm starting to piss myself off with these ridiculous delays and that's certainly saying something! On the bright side though, my finances have never been better…

Oriya: Mr. Tatsumi is performing serviceably then?

NaPap: Yes. Thanks to him, I was able to buy that new pair of shoes I've been coveting for some time. (Drapes self over Tatsumi, who is now permanently locked to NaPap's desk, computer and calculator) How's my hot little accountant doing?

Tatsumi: Struggling… if you didn't spend all your money on anime, skimpy clothing, video games and high heeled shoes, there might have been just enough left over to place a deposit on an apartment.

NaPap: … So scold a woman for spending her hard earned cash why don't you…

Saki: I'm looking forward to the next update. That's my favorite.

Muraki: Now I know I'm worried.

Tsuzuki: I'd more worried if it was the Count's favorite chapter.

Count: (Smiles slyly. Not that you can tell)

NaPap: (Pokes her corpse with a stick) Now, I know I said that this was a split chapter between Oriya and Muraki but this turned out longer than I expected and I have to keep the timeline intact, so Muraki's chapter will be updated after this one. It's already been written so it won't take long to get here, so all your MuTsu fans don't be a Muraki.

Muraki: Don't be a Muraki? What do you mean by that?

NaPap: It means they should do what you don't and keep their pants on!

Muraki: … Classy.

NaPap: Well, it's an Oriya chapter all and I hope you can enjoy it for what it is! There are some major revealing points in this chappie, so watch for them. Also, some new characters turn up! Not OC's but characters from Yami that appeared briefly in the manga! You'll see what I mean. (Reviews notes) I've really outdone myself these past couple of weeks and have written a number of chapters in advance, so updates should be coming quite steadily following this! With that being said, you can be guaranteed a lemon chapter in due time. Thanks as always for your patience!

Muraki: (Grumbles incoherently)

Oriya and Watari: (Snuggle satisfactorily)

Say, where is my shame, when I call your name?

So please, don't set me free; I'm as heavy as can be.

I will do you harm; I will break my arm

I'm a victim - of your charm.

I want to be dead; when I am, I lament.

I can be so mean; you can beat me.

I would like to shame you; I would like to blame you...

Just because of my love to you.

Oh, love itself is - just as innocent as roses in May.

I know nothing can - drive it away.

Oh, love itself is - just as brief as a candle in the wind.

And it's greedy - just like sin.

Alone... but sane...

I am a... love... suicide...

'Cause love itself is - just as brief as a candle in the wind.

And it's pure white - just like sin.

-Love Suicide- (Theme of Rule of Rose)

Oriya

I have always known that I was strong. Even when I was a young boy, before my muscles had started to take shape, I had known that I would grow up to be an exceptionally powerful man. Not only strong mind you but big. By the 8th grade, I was taller than all my classmates and almost twice as broad across the chest and shoulders. Muraki had, at the time, been weedy in comparison to me. Only in his twenties did he start to flesh out substantially, shooting up like a stalk and working out just enough to sculpture his previously slender and pale body. He hadn't favorable genetics, Muraki. Both his parents had been quite slender people, his mother especially, of whom Muraki most took after. My mother had been exceptionally tall, in contrast to both men and women. She stood at 6'1, whilst my father was an inch shorter. I had inherited his broad and powerful build, passed down from our ancestors who once served as the principled Wolves of Mibu in the Meiji era. I had been guaranteed an almost impeccably strong and resilient body; never mind what my disability accounted for.

I had always known I was strong. But the day that had really sealed my confidence in my curse was shortly after I had inherited Kokakuro from my late uncle. I was twenty-three years of age, at the height of my physical prowess, though still carrying a residual limp from my accident. I had arrived back from a business meeting to find one of my girls slaughtered in the entrance hall, whilst the others lay sleeping in their bedchambers, unaware. I remember opening my mouth to scream but nothing coming out. The wound across her neck was a clean cut, precise and devastating. Blood had been splashed across the interior walls, coating everything from the floors to the light bulbs.

I had never seen a dead body before and wasn't prepared for how horrifying the experience was. I had no idea how I was supposed to handle it. My hands reached out to perform an act that was as mysterious to me as it was to anybody else and felt the delicate membranes of which comprised the universe tug, alerting me to the presence of another in the nearby vicinity. My disability… it's a little hard to explain, unless you have experienced it yourself. The closest approximation I can make is that of a spiders web, with myself as the spider, perched in the far corner within the shadows. When something enters within the range of my web, they are caught in the delicate membrane and every single, minute movement they make from that moment on, I can feel. Every breath, every blink, every tiny heartbeat and how quickly the blood pumps through the body. It is similar in part to mind reading, in that I can easily interpret what a person is feeling and indeed thinking by their movements, facial expressions and the internal processes of their body. There was really no way of blocking it off either, which sometimes made me feel as mad as most people in Kyoto took me to be. I was fine with that. Having this ability, this curse, gave me a great deal of leeway to add to my already substantial amount of blackmailing power that came as an accessory to this life I had entered into.

So that night, the night I had found my girl murdered, I reached out and freely concentrated, in such a way I might not normally have allowed myself. They were close enough to be snared by the 'membranes' and the pulses I felt thudding back along the connecting lines shocked me. This presence, felt no fear, very little excitement. They were pure and simply pleased. I actively focused on touching that pulse, only to feel my probing mind battered back, as insubstantial as cigarette smoke. Now I was more than a little intrigued. Intrigued and terrified, all rolled into one. I reached out with my mind again and felt a dark, tangled force rush back at me along the connecting membranes. I had never experienced such an encroachment before and tried to visualize a defensive method in order to combat it. I imagined a great pair of scissor blades coming down and snapping through the membrane, breaking the connection and locking out the darkness that hurtled towards me like water through a pipe.

I knew I had to confront the killer. Scared though I was, I was equally confident in my physical presence. My strength and my built in weapon. I leapt over the sticky pools of blood that I would later learn had stained the floor beyond repair and followed the intrusive presence into the garden beyond. My emotions were flinging about every which way and I could barely concentrate on keeping my mental guard up. Images flew into my mind from all sides. Dark thoughts, terrifying emotions. I felt malicious intent, acting purely in his or her own self-interest. The body was calm; the chemical compounds of the brain fired their synapses without irregularity. I could have been facing the most cold hearted murderer any one of my thriller novels might have thrown up, or an average Joe that just happened to pass by at an inopportune moment.

But then I felt something else… a burning sensation. A driving force, like a parasite that had attached itself to whoever this person was. It was manipulating them, promoting the dark instincts and pushing them towards violence and carnage. I felt my body quaking from the sheer horror of these dark tendrils worming invasively into my consciousness. I was frightened but underneath that fear, I was compelled to confront this presence with nothing short of persuasive ferocity. I barged into the outside area and felt that darkness slam towards me. I quickly crashed the scissor blades shut, blocking my mind off and leapt into the garden, wincing as my bad leg took the brunt of my weight behind it. In a way, I suppose I sort of expected to see him standing there. Gore coated, eyes shining with malicious nature and mouth drawn upward into a slight, self-satisfied little smirk. Unconsciously I had sensed this moment was coming for years before the blade fell. Yet now it was here, I had no expected reaction other than sorrow and disbelief.

"Did you do this?!" I cried. My heart was broken.

Muraki tilted his head towards me lazily. "You came home early, Oriya. How unfortunate. I was hoping to have this cleaned up before you saw."

"Why?" I questioned, my vision blurring with hot angry tears. I broached the distance between us subtly; just enough to reach the strings out and draw the web. I half expected Muraki to shake free or repel me but at that stage it seemed he had not yet fully practiced his powers and wasn't able to sense what I was doing. "Why would you do this to me? Your oldest, dearest friend?! How could you?!"

"When you throw meat before the dog, you must expect the dog to take the meat." Muraki said and it was truly then that I began to refer to him as such, in both my mind and speech. By addressing him by his family name, I threw an effective bridge between us. A distance I would maintain from that day until now. "This is my right, Oriya. I am surrounded by vibrant, delicious souls and by absorbing that energy my own power can grow and prosper. With the death of your girl, I have become stronger. Thanks to you, I am well on my way towards realizing my dreams."

"Your dream?!" I spat, swiping at my face as a tear spilt over my lower eyelid. "How could you think that justifies killing that poor girl? Don't thank me for that, Muraki! I've covered for you, for those others that you killed because they mattered not to me. But this-"

Muraki looked a little confused by my words. "But this is okay, isn't it? After all, you are my friend. You swore you would help me and this, Oriya my friend, this has been of great service to me."

"Shut up!" I swore, tightening my fist at my side. I felt the membranes stiffen in my grasp and if they were visible to the naked eye, one might see a series of sharp, strings clenched between my fingers, stretching outward into the darkness to where Muraki stood. I hadn't yet realized what was happening but it was not of my own conscious accord. Yet I knew the consequences, if not the exact method. "Don't speak of me as your friend, having betrayed my confidence this way! We made a deal, you and I that you would never breach the walls of my home with your cruel ways! And now – you have done the utmost unthinkable!" I pointed out to him with my spare hand, judging the distance between us. "Don't believe you wont pay for this, Muraki!"

He laughed. He simply laughed and the fierceness in my veins escalated twofold in response to his arrogance. I had been hurt by his betrayal and I knew that if I did not establish some basis for our continued resolve at a peaceful acquaintanceship, then he would only continue on to more terrible acts against those that were in my protection. He would, because I had let him and to give him that silent permission was the most cowardly act I was possible of.

"Pay?" He repeated the word as though it were foreign to him. "You mean to say that only now that someone under your roof has been killed by my hand, you draw the line? How hypocritical, my dear Oriya. How delightfully duplicitous." He tilted his head very slightly and I corrected the line of the membrane vaguely to coordinate the distance. "This is what I'm all about now. Someday, you'll understand that. You may even appreciate this about me."

"No!" I roared and the emotion of that one word astounded even myself. I was usually such a composed person. Men of my size and strength have little need to actively suffer our feelings. "You're my friend and I will protect you for as long as we are both upon this earth but I will not allow you to manipulate me to your own ends, do you understand me, Muraki?! I will not! And you will never ever come upon this house with intentions to harm those within it again, do I make myself clear?"

Muraki smiled again and I felt my temper twitch impatiently. "You do, my friend. But unfortunately, that is not a promise I can easily make."

"You shall," I recall saying. "Or you will wander in darkness, blind to everything."

He raised an eyebrow. "In which you mean to say?"

My disability expanded that night and I learnt how it might be used to accelerate my already profound skills as a martial artist. To describe it, I could say that it is most easily explained by saying that I have a means of drawing on power from some outside source, accessible from within my own body. But I cannot simply draw in an entire portion at my will but rather incorporate small parts of it, by visually ascribing a percentage. For example, the night I had fought the childlike guardian of death, I had shut my eyes and focused on the gateway within myself. I imagined it opening and prescribed an equivalent of 20 percent increase of my functioning ability. This fraction was more than enough to combat the boy and almost destroy him. I had never drawn in more power than that, knowing how dangerous it would have been to my mortal body. It was a delicate balance and even incorporating twenty percent foreign element was enough to tire me, driving pain through my essence and into my brain. That night when I found Muraki with the blood of my girl on his hands, I activated that ability for the first time, without even realizing it.

I shut my eyes and felt something stir inside of me. Something strained against some metaphysical doorway. I visualized unlatching the locks, unsure of what I would release in my doing so. The doors cranked open a bare inch, my eyes flinging open in physical correspondence and power poured through me. I let in only a very meager portion, possibly only 8 percent before sealing off the doors. It was enough. I felt my body lifted high, the residual aches from my accident a mere memory and every influx that thudded through the membrane surrounding me, was as easy to read as child's scripture. I saw Muraki as I had never seen him before, a systematic branch of vital arteries, organs and pouches beneath his flesh where the mana resided. I saw him and could have laughed at the utter simplicity of it all. To destroy anything with this power behind me was embarrassingly easy.

I felt as myself but also as another. Someone stood behind me and I was connected to them by the strings of their own membrane. I was the puppet on the ends of the puppeteers' strings, dictating my own directions. Muraki showed no sign that he had noticed any change in me and I gave no reason for him to suspect anything.

"In which I mean to say," my voice was still my own, I was almost relieved to find. "That if you ever kill anyone who is under my protection again and I will take your other eye."

Muraki held his hand up to his face, pressing his fingers across his glasses. "Educate me, dear friend. Which eye are you referring to, for I have two upon my face?"

The world shifted about me and I was moving before he had a chance to register it. I had amazed even myself, the speed in which I had breached the space between us… Twelve yards at least, in an approximation of a single second. I now stood behind him and my hand was dripping juices.

"You haven't realized it yet," I said, looking over my shoulder at him, his body as unaware of the devastation done unto it as his mind was. "But you have only one."

I hope never to revisit that place again, the night I had struck my dear friends eye from his face and listened to his screams of horror and pain, as the red rivulets poured down his pale cheek and soaked his body. I hated having to do that to him. But I'd had no choice. Because I had taken that measure, Muraki had learnt to respect me and had never insulted my power again. He had never touched another woman in my service. We had gone past that place, where for some time we had hated and feared one another and he was already starting to forget why he had come to be wary of me in the first place.

Judgment had been done unto him by mine own hand. I hadn't even realized I'd had it in me.

I was a strong man. Physically, emotionally, mentally. I knew that very well and that night only sought to prove it. If I could strike down my very dearest friend, then I knew I could face up to anything the future threw at me.

And so, in that alleyway, confronted with this insane feminine presence, which had decimated the bodies of five grown men, I felt not as fearful for my life as perhaps I should have been. I was quietly confident, just cautious enough to confirm that I was no madman. All I was certain of was that this creature stood between my home and myself. Yutaka was unconscious in my arms and hurting in more ways than one. He required immediate attention and I was unable to give him that, whilst our route to safety was blocked.

I decided I would fight the demon. Just like that.

I was afraid but no coward. And somehow, I was positively looking forward to it. Though I did hold those four men in contempt for what they had subjected Yutaka to, it did not alternatively put this creature in the right for slaying them in such a brutal manner.

And to think… I had forgotten to wear decent shoes. I felt my nose wrinkle at the thought of fighting in those desecrated remains my feet swathed in only the delicate pair of yard sandals I had leapt into when Seki had drawn me here. It would be sheer luck if I didn't manage to break them.

The girl was still watching Ichibana, though her expression was not quite so carefree as it had been. There was something calculating about the way her eyebrows were centered and I knew by opening up the pathways between us, that she was considering the possibility that the djinni was familiar to her. I pushed it a little and focused hard, tugging on the metaphysical membrane in order to access this creature before me. I could sense its' strength and confidence and knew how much damage each of its four limbs could bestow with a single blow. I sensed that she was both agile and alert, open to the subtler movements of the world around her, such as I was. There was a strange constriction in the typography of her frame however and I tightened a few bounds here and there, coming to a most alarming discovery.

I smiled to myself. "You are not what you seem. Are you, boy?"

The demon smiled at me and I saw that his eyeteeth were exposed. I was quite skilled at sizing up sexual situations – never mind my disability, it's part of my job description – so I was able to decipher that expression the instant it appeared. The boy was pleased by my appearance.

"And you," he replied cordially, licking his bottom lip tellingly. "-do not disappoint." He set one hand upon his dramatically curved hip, extending the other out in a gesture of invitation. "Allow me to introduce myself, if somewhat belatedly. I am the one who is remembered best as Prince Eurynomous; Sire of the Infernal Regions, the Cutthroat Devil of the Fourth Hour in the Order of the Nine. Since the year 3040 BC, I have worked tirelessly in order to obtain the undivine protection of each and every King and Queen of Hell."

"None too shabby a title." I conceded, drawing a slightly sarcastic smile across my face. "Am I required to curtsey? Or should I merely prostrate myself before your mighty wall of the dead?"

A smile, a patient smile stretched along the slender portions of the feminine creatures face.

"You possess a certain piquant wit that I cannot help but admire, oh beautiful one." He expressed in that generic voice. "Though you would not be foolish to preserve your manners in this case. I am an ageless presence and have drifted downward through time, long beyond those days that have slaughtered the many who were born by my bedside." His eyes slowly fluttered shut, expressing dark and sensually captivating lashes bowing to the arch of each bloodless cheek. "Of all the beating hearts and the unliving objects in this town, only one exists that is older and more powerful than I. It is both wise and deeply admirable that you maintain such circumspection of me. The Greeks equally revered and feared my name. They called me the Corpse Devourer, for the taste of the long deceased was my most guilty pleasure."

He reached outward to me, bearing that same slight smile that was near to impossible to interpret, even for one as astute to the perceptions of the flesh as I. Suddenly, he was standing before me, moving so quickly to occupy that space that even my advanced reflexes had been unable to follow it. He was shorter than I had first interpreted, standing a minute four foot ten at the very least. There was no denying the power of his presence, petite though he was. My breath caught in my throat as his long acrylic fingernails brushed along my chin and slipped downward dramatically to caress the distended arteries of my neck. The action was not seductive in the least but closer to that of a child indulging some newfound curiosity.

"I am a connoisseur of the flesh and bone of mankind; for like fine wine the nectar of the corpse is most sweet, when it has dwelt in solitude for the duration of determined time within the confines of its glass or coffin."

These were words that were even able to disturb the mind of one such as I and I'm certain this Cutthroat was more than aware of it. I stepped away from him, distancing myself from this bizarre creature.

The Cutthroat's smile fervently relaxed back into the soft flesh of his ghost like lips and his now serious expression drifted back to attend to Ichibana. Yutaka's head suddenly tilted back violently, tipping over the side of my arm and hanging there. I adjusted my hold in order to bring his neck back into alignment and carried him over to the opposite wall of the alley from the one that he had vomited against. I set him down gently, running my hand across the side of his beaten features and whipping free the tie worn at the base of my loose styled ponytail. I tied his wet, vomit strew hair back out of his face and propped him up as best I could, hoping that it would be comfortable enough for the time being. I couldn't sense that his body was under any serious strain from the position, so I let well enough alone and returned to my feet, fully intending to face the demon.

But whilst I had been tending to Yutaka, the boy creature had turned about and was directing the entirety of his attention towards Ichibana once more. Something about this purposeful connection made me just the slightest bit uncomfortable. I knew that Yutaka trusted the djinni astutely but then again, he trusted me, didn't he? And hadn't I manipulated his actions from day one, delaying the case by drawing his efforts towards me rather than focusing them on his job? Ah yes, I could not verily confirm that Yutaka was a good judge of character and if both these mystical creatures were to align and turn against me, not even my disability would be enough to spare me.

But Ichibana showed no sign that he was considering switching sides. Nor did I assume, was he simply allowed to do so. Yutaka was intelligent enough to have seen to that. The pair simply continued to eye one another off, and the implication was neither sexual nor antagonistic and thus, it was inscrutable to me. I had no alternative but to wait and try not to focus too much on the small hill of dismembered bodies the cross dressing wheedling was digging his high-heeled pumps into.

"We know one another, you and I…" The Cutthroat murmured, so softly that if it had not been for my curse, it would certainly have gone unnoticed. "You are familiar to me as am I to you. What is your name, little one? I cannot sense your essence with my limited magical ability."

Ichibana's head was tilted slightly to the side and he was smiling.

"Hephaestus, big brother." He said and just like that the gore riddled boy was smiling along with him and there was a great sincerity in that face where before only existed a dark void.

"Well, I'll be…" The demon said, beaming as though this were a reunion taking place at the International airport rather than a gore-strewn alleyway. God, what was wrong with these creatures?! "We've been wondering what happened to you, Your Highness. I apologize for my treatment of you earlier. If I'd had known - … Well, I must commend you on this comely form you have chosen for yourself."

"I was about ta say the same thing ta you, Eury!" Ichibana – Hephaestus exclaimed, making a soft clapping noise with both hands. "Ye've got a weird sense o' humor, man! I ever tell ya that?"

"All the time, yes." 'Eury' said congenially, brushing at the stains riddling the hem of his mini-skirt. I stood patiently, content to see how this all panned out and whether or not it would work in my favor. "What happened to you, dear boy? Fourteen years it has been since Mitkiel sent your highness out to devastate the souls of Obama. You were to return with the acquired essence, as a means in assisting him in the restoration of his body, isn't that correct? What ever became of you? Your guardians were concerned."

"Didn't mean ta make ye worry, big brother. See, Mitkiel and I – we had us a misunderstanding." The djinni said in a downright homey voice. He and the demon shared an entire unspoken conversation, the boys bloodstained fingers set against the feminine slope of his chin.

"Ah, I see now. So you would not stand for that any longer, Your Highness."

The djinni shook its' head. "Ye know me, bro. I ain't one fer watchin' a kid suffer."

"So it was you who cost us that almighty goose chase across the continents," the demon said, eyebrows furrowing down. "What impetuous actions. And you only got the boy in more trouble by alluding to his selfish desire to be free from his contract."

Ichibana hung his head and I could sense his shame. "Tell 'im when ya see 'im, as I know you will… tell 'im Nii-san is very sorry. He was trying to gather enough souls energy, so that he would have the strength to fight you when ye all came fer 'im. But… the Ministry o' Hades took exception to my actions and I was captured by a Guardian 'o Death. I have been held in is service for fourteen years and could not save the boy whilst held by these bounds."

"Foolish." Eurynomous said and though I had no idea as to who this 'child' was that they were referring to, I understood that there was an underlying level of fondness for him or her and Ichibana had taken a great risk in attempting to spare their… life? "You may not realize it but that Guardian undoubtedly saved you. You have been protected by ambiguity these passing years and Mitkiel had long since given up on you, as had we: your peers and tutelary. You don't mean to suggest that it was this manner of guardian that was responsible for binding the once legendary 'Dark Scourge of 1698?'"

The demon flicked a finger contemptuously in the direction of Yutaka as he made mention of 'this' in a sour tone of voice. I felt the anger rising in my chest and very nearly cranked open the doorway within my soul, allowing the dark gift access to my body. But I restrained myself at the last minute. Itching though I was to end this discussion and race home with Yutaka swathed in my arms, I knew it was pointless to engage in violence if there was an alternative absolution. I bit my tongue and held my ground, biding my time.

Ichibana chuckled nervously. "Yeah, ye don't gotta tell me! I'm totally embarrassed by it!" He laughed a bit more and then cut himself off when he witnessed my volcanic expression. The look on his own face was comical, as he swallowed back a rather abstract lump from the sounds of it and glanced upward into his 'brothers' face. "Look, what I mean to say Eury is that – we… well, Watari may not be the most favorable person to work for, but I'm still in his charge so… if you wanna get down and dirty with his hot hunk of stuff boyfriend here, that's not technically my concern but it's in my contract to protect the bubble brains best interests and I get the feeling tall, dark and handsome over there might just qualify. What I'm saying is…" He sounded as nervous as the high school nerd asking head cheerleader to prom night. "… if you choose to go to fisticuffs here, I got no choice but to intervene and let's face it… I really ain't in the best state right now to be fightin' anyone. I think I've got an onboard guest, if you catch my drift…"

I did not. The demon on the other hand, did.

"How many times is this now?" He requested with fond impatience. Ichibana raised five fingers, his expression hinting slightly in favor of modest embarrassment. For a moment, the demon seemed torn.

"Aye, Pumpkin. You need to learn to protect yourself better." The demon groaned, rubbing his temple with his fingers, suggesting that a headache was imminent. I could feel the symptoms already setting off within his mind and they were starting to travel along the membrane to manifest themselves in my own body. It was enough incentive for me to cut through the cord. A migraine was the last thing I needed, especially in a situation where I needed to focus my mind one hundred percent. I was actually a little surprised that a demon could suffer such a nominally human complaint.

Eurynomous was silent for a long time and I could tell without reading him that he was thinking deeply on whatever subtle information it was that Ichibana had fed him. Djinni and man waited patiently for the verdict and I wondered how long it would be before anyone else stumbled upon the scene and further complicated matters. I spared a prayer for a speedy conclusion.

After what felt like a millennium of delay but was in reality only four or so minutes, the demon offered a lazy shrug. As though this decision had not been of great importance!

"Alas, I suppose it cannot be helped…" He said raking long beautifully maintained fingernails back through his stripy head of hair. "Michael, you have caught yourself a break on this occasion but don't think I won't be back to test your skills at a more opportune moment. At which point, Hephaestus, I mean to convey that you might find a more convenient location for your butt at that aforementioned moment, rather than right next to his. You catch my meaning, Your Highness?"

Ichibana flashed an okay sign and gave a respectful bow. "With both hands, Your Excellency. Thankyou so very much for this."

The boy-creatures eyebrows arched downward, producing a regretful expression. "You do realize of course that by the directive of my contract, I am bound my Mitkiel's will to express the course of events that have occurred tonight? This naturally includes your resurgence, my dear."

Ichibana looked more than a little put out by this but continued to be both polite and courteous, which was more than I had grown to expect of him.

"I understand. But make sure that Mitkiel understands in his turn that I am the servant of the Ministry now and I am bound in my charge to protect my master and his interests." He smiled and I saw the satisfaction beam outward from his pale, overly made up features. "Make sure that Mitkiel knows that now we have crossed paths again that he is truly my enemy and I will protect those he deigns to purify in his self-righteous standard."

The demon offered a gruff utterance, impossible to interpret and pursed his lips. All I could construe from his posture and expression was that he was displeased about the agenda upon which he was about to embark.

"As… you wish. Oh beautiful and foolish one"

The boy stepped down off of the pile of bodies, the eviscerated organs squishing with each movement of his feet. He fiddled distractedly with the pulpy flesh clutched in each hand, the bloodied juices dripping through the gaps of his fingers and disappearing into the wet darkness below.

"Seems a shame to waste such potentially delicious bodies…" The boy murmured, raising the compressed flesh to his face and inhaling the scent. I was once more grateful that I had severed the line between us. The idea that I might have shared any part of this… the scent of blood… I never desired to interpret the sweetness in such a sacrilegious act. "If only I had the time to properly corrode them… for the flesh to oxidize and rot, for the skin to fall from their bones… don't you agree?"

Ichibana gave a forced grin. "Well to be honest… human meat ain't all that appealin' ta me. Gives me the hiccups. I'd rather a good aura any day."

The boy glanced back over his shoulder at me and expressed his maligned interest with a none too disturbing smile.

"How delicious it would be to watch that magnificent body of yours decay, Michael. If it were my decision alone, I would not hesitate to devour that succulent flesh from your bones." He flashed me a set of ironically white teeth and then flipped back his layered hair, as though the matter were irrelevant after all. "Oh well. Perhaps when next we meet, I might have the good fortune to sever one of your limbs. I can take home a doggy bag."

He let fly with a hysterically glancing laugh and then in what I can only ascertain to that creatures craven humor, smacked the mushy body matter into Ichibana's unfortunately extended hands. As the djinni stared at this 'gift' with wide eyes and a trembling smile, the petite creature made his exit up the wall of the alley, disappearing into the sky above from where the light rain fell. I heard a sound from the darkness above and looked up to see what appeared to be an enormous gray steed, stationed with its eight legs positioned on the buildings either side of us, its great head craned down to follow the demons movements as he leapt up towards it. The stallions eyes glared with red light, froth spitting out from its rubbery lips with every snort, mane tangled and rising up from its neck like a series of snakes in attack formation. I intentionally stepped backwards, positioning myself before Yutaka without entirely thinking about what it was that I was doing.

But the beast had no malign intentions towards us. It waited patiently for the demon-boy to draw close, parting its' mouth so that one delicate hand could sneak inside and take a hold of the great yellowed teeth. The demon swung itself upward using this leverage and landed on the stallions' broad back, with both legs hanging from the left hand side. How typically ladylike the posture. How utterly despicable to imitate such gentility when he was covered from head to toe in gore!

"Our session has concluded, Tatchomu, albeit abruptly." I had to strain in order to hear the spoken words. "Let us be off. Mara awaits us. Let's not make the dear child impatient for our arrival."

The beast let out a deep snort, spraying the alley walls with frothed horse saliva. We were too far down to be affected by it but I felt the heat from the blast, even through the rain. Having exhumed itself thoroughly, the horse relinquished its footholds on the cement roofing and lurched forward and upward so dramatically, I threw my arms up, half expecting those great hooves to come crashing down upon us. This was of no concern as I was soon witness to. The horse ran across air, just as easily as its earthbound cousins hugged the open plains. I wondered why no one else was witness to such a phenomena but realized almost instantaneously that my abilities allowed me to see what would have been veiled to normal human beings.

Normal… huh… to think that I make that distinction now without even intending it.

There was a great void of silence once the demon and its' steed had departed. I was left standing there before a pile of horribly disfigured carcasses, wondering just how the hell I was going to avoid being thrown in jail over this one. I actively sought through my internal catalogue of possible favors I could call in but nothing I had on anyone could account for what I would inevitably ask of them!

As soon as the demon was out of sight, Ichibana hurled the pulpy mess onto the ground and hastily brushed his hands off onto his caramel colored trenchcoat. It would stain naturally but this guys' wardrobe came from thin air, so it wasn't of great importance to him.

"Why did he back off?" I wondered softly, still not understanding the discreet suggestion the djinni had made before.

"I told him I might be pregnant." Ichibana said, giving me a sad but cheeky smile. It took me a moment to effectively access this. At first I nodded, thinking nothing of it. Then the reality took shape in my mind and my face contorted in what I'm sure was comical confusion.

"Are you?" I further questioned. The djinni jerked his shoulders upward lackadaisically.

"Might be. I've got the usual symptoms."

"Usual symptoms? Aren't you a male?"

The creatures' smile grew larger. "You humans… so quick to distinguish male from female based on what a body appears to be on the outside. Can you tell if a starfish is male or female? Is a sponge a boy or a girl? No. That's how we djinni are. Our internal biological organs are both male and female; we simply ascribe a physical gender for outward representation. I chose a male body because I had a great love for a human who was male. But that shouldn't suggest I'm male or female for that matter. I can get pregnant just as easily as any woman. Believe you me, now is certainly not the first time!" He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, a little shyly. "I was actually kinda hopin' that ye might be able to help me confirm it. Ye know? Cause o' yer, 'special gift' and all that. Ye should be able to tell, right?"

"I certainly owe you for avoiding a confrontation with that creature just now but if it's quite alright with you, perhaps it can wait until later?" I looked over at Yutaka, at his damaged face and body, my heart positively palpitating with sympathy for him. He was harder to read then most people and I avoided connecting my mind to those that I wanted to share intimacies with, for good reason but now when he was so close and his body in such trauma it was almost inevitable that his pain and discomfort ebb into me. It seemed cruel but I forced myself to snap the shield in place, separating my mind from his. I needed to be top of game right now and empathizing with his injuries was of no use to him in the great scheme of things. "Miss Thang said that he had used Angel's blood to poison, Yutaka. If I remember correctly, that stuff's supposed to be quite toxic if imbibed by Guardians of Death, so he must be in a pretty bad way, both internally and physically."

"Yowch. Hell yeah. Don't envy 'im." Ichibana said, twirling a strand of his plum colored hair distractedly. His eyes were boring into my forehead as though a hole had been drilled directly into the cores of my brain. "Was it my addled mind or did Eury refer to ye as… Michael just now?"

I too had noticed that but had dismissed it as some kind of strange pun. It was hard to think about anything other than caring for the sick guardian.

"Mmm? What of it?" I asked, not particularly concerned with discussing it at that moment. Ichibana seemed to catch my meaning and he dismissed the possible continuation of the conversation, liberally leaping over the pile of bodies to stand at my side. We both looked down upon the unconscious form of Yutaka Watari, so helpless. Suspended there in the rain and darkness.

"I've waited fourteen years for a moment when 'e would be this weak." The djinni whispered, an almost maniacal glint in his blood-red eyes. He reached out and ran his nails down the blonds' scraped chin, feeling the texture of the drying blood between the pads of his fingertips. "I could easily slaughter his bony little butt right here and be free from my entrapment."

He clearly didn't view me, as an obstacle in this circumstance and as such his decision to do nothing at all, remains a mystery to me even now. Having uttered those sinister words, the djinni was content to leave them swaying in the wind and leaned away from the guardian, tilting his head back to bring my face into account. He made an abrupt movement with his hand and a great orb of light washed over the alleyway proper, encasing us all within it. I met his eyes, wondering if he was about to make good his threat. But he only exchanged my glance with grim perpetuity.

"Hot stuff, take Bubble-brain back ta Kokakuro. He needs to purge whatever remains of that blood within his body. Make sure he drinks plenty of water when he awakens but don't feed 'im nothin' till the mornin'. His system needs to be entirely flushed, including that which is already in his digestive system. I've thrown an Obscuring Cloak over the entire alleyway. If anyone peeps in, they'll see an empty passageway. That should hopefully buy me enough time to remove the bodies to a secure location."

"There'll be questions." I said and the djinni nodded.

"Of course. You humans are always full of questions. But I'll arrange it so that ye won't be needin' ta do the answerin'. Now git goin'."

I had no other choice then to trust Ichibana but my heart still would not rest easy. I could only pray that this wouldn't come back and bite me in the ass later. I nodded once and turned my back to the djinni, easing myself down into a squatting position and biting back the residual aches shooting through my joints. Premature arthritis; bad family history. Yutaka didn't stir in protest as I lifted him into my arms, pulling the upper piece yukata around his body securely, so that he almost resembled a baby swathed in its bedclothes. The blonds' breathing was shallow and small, unnatural even for someone in an unconscious state. I wondered whether it would be wise to have seen him to a hospital but the inevitable blood test would have confirmed that he was not human. Surely I would not be thanked for the trouble that would come about from acting in such a way! Concerned though I was by his state, the only reasonable course of action I could take was to return back to Kokakuro with him and follow the djinni's directions in caring for him.

Once I was sure that the guardians' extremeties were covered, I stepped back up to the rear door of the club and managed to twist the door handle with one hand, whilst balancing Yutaka by the bridge of my other arm. I glanced back down the alleyway and was grateful to be met with the scene of a dingy but wholly unimpressive brick and cement lane staring back at me. Using my ability I was able to sense the reality behind this curtain but normal human beings would be easily fooled. Unless of course they stepped inside the illusion.

I wondered how Ichibana might deal with this, if it were to happen? I figured it was perhaps in my best interests not to stint on this and removed myself from the scene, slipping back inside the club and weaved my way out of the supply area, emerging into the employee break room. No one was there thank goodness, so I didn't have to explain myself. Doing so as casually as possible, I stepped out into the club proper and marched in resolute confidence towards the entrance, ignoring my name as Natsuko called out to me. If anyone had seen Yutaka's condition, there would have been questions. And questions would have led to an investigation. And an investigation into me was just the sunshine I needed to slap me with all of Muraki's past felonies that it had been my bad fortune to have assisted in burying.

I carried Yutaka to the front of the bar, subject to the various hoots and hollers of the milling adolescents who must have assumed that I had picked up some blond hottie. A group of teenage girls were standing in a circle around my motorbike, admiring the sleek machine from all angles. I was unusually impatient that night and it was perhaps needless of me to have battered their drunken giggling bodies aside as I did, but I had no interest in being kind to people I cared nothing for. Paying no mind to the incredulous stares I received, I swung my leg over the wide leather seat of the bike, attempting to keep as much of myself in my thin undergarment as possible. Judging from some of the shrill exclamations from the girls nearby, I hadn't been nearly as successful in this endeavor as I'd hoped. Fortunately, Kokakuro wasn't too far by bike, so it shouldn't have been terribly difficult to balance Yutaka as I drove. I just hoped this whole thing didn't end up with the both of us laid up in hospital with all the skin scraped off of our bodies. Yutaka didn't have much left to lose!

I tucked the blond in against the line of my body, placing his long legs on either side of the bike seat so that he would remain upright as we drove. There was only one bike helmet and considering the damage already done to Yutaka's head, it only seemed reasonable that he wear it. I gently slid it down over his bloodied head of hair, hooking the straps under his pale chin. The bike groaned to a start and I pulled away from the curb, leaving the twittering throngs of adolescents coughing in the exhaust. Unpleasant of me, I suppose but I honestly couldn't bring myself to care. Yutaka was the focus of my concern at that moment; everything else went by the wayside.

Unknown

Ichibana had been in the process of deciding just where to begin his cleanup regime, when two figures entered through the alleyway from the street beyond. They passed casually through the Obscuring Cloak and approached Ichibana casual as you like. The djinni reacted instantaneously to their presence, spinning his head sharply and examining the intruders in the passing of a heartbeat. The figure at the forefront was tall and slender with such deliberately androgynous features that if Ichibana hadn't known better, he would have taken her for a feminine man. Following in her wake was an equally tall and tender faced gentleman, who reminded the djinni unequivocally of Watari's friend Tsuzuki. He had the same dark messy hair and wore his suit in an identical slovenly manner. This was clearly a cleverly designed farce however, because even as he navigated his way towards where the djinni was standing, the young man was pulling his suit back into place and brushing his hair down from the middle part, soothing out the messy tangles. Ichibana relaxed his nerves, recognizing at least one of these figures.

"Could have used your help twenty minutes ago, Kira."

The demonic exorcist clucked her tongue impatiently, her beautifully shaped eyes taking in the catastrophic scene before her with one controlled glance.

"You just be thankful I turned up in time to turf your ass out of that fancy netting you got yourself wrapped in." She stated, brushing back the trailing ends of her straight blond hair back over one shoulder. Though they were on opposite ends of the spectrum, so to speak, Kira and Ichibana shared a long and involved history together. Back in 1703, shortly after his furious reign ended in Germany, Ichibana had returned to his homeland of Japan and set up shop within the quiet fishing city of Shukunegi, making a quiet living by tormenting the villagers and upsetting the delicate balance on which they scheduled their quiet every day lives. Kira, having met her death at the age of twenty-two but youthful enough in appearance to pass for someone substantially younger, had been sent out on her maiden voyage in order to suppress the activities of this rogue djinni. Back then, she had only been a humble Guardian of Death, much like Hisoka Kurosaki when starting out. It soon came to the Ministry's attention however that she possessed a natural ability for dealing with supernatural beings, in particular demons. Ichibana had only been twenty-three at the time and was positively delighted to be deemed important enough to be hunted down by the infamous Ministry of Hades. Four hundred years had passed since then and the alignment between Kira Tsukiori and Ichibana of the Jann Tribe had always been ambiguously skewed, to say the least. It regularly alternated between the former attempting to trap and restrain the latter, to a dramatic turn about in which the pair would find themselves forced to work side by side in order to defeat a greater threat. In so saying, Kira had afforded Ichibana a considerable amount of leeway in his exploits and it was this factor that had forced Enma to eventually dispatch a Guardian other than his most trusted agent to finally capture the djinni.

Even now, not a great deal had changed between them. The demonic exorcist and the djinni had, in a bizarre fashion, grown up together and had been consistently involved in the process of one another's development since they had been merely sprouts bursting out into the tangled garden that was the supernatural realm.

Back then, even four hundred years ago, Kira had been a tomboy. For whatever the reason she had always felt more comfortable dressing in predominately male clothing and it seemed as though her feelings on the matter had not changed a wit. She was dressed in a sharply sculptured blue suit, that highlighted the slender contours of her body exquisitely. Her bright green eyes were able to engage your very soul, with silent talk of the days she had existed in this world and all the manner of things that had befallen her during this time, that only death could have afforded her. Ichibana always considered her attractive and never minded that she preferred to dress like a man. He had always considered that to be the main appeal; that you were required to tug that masculine garb aside in order to expose her more feminine assets.

They'd had their moments, the two of them. Sometimes, like this moment, they were nothing more than childhood friends. Other times they afforded a more compromised admonition to their arrangement and surrendered to whatever impulses might have taken them at the time of their reunion.

It had been some time but Ichibana thought her as lovely as ever.

"Been a while but you haven't changed a jot." He said, looking her up and down with what she surely took to be offensive interest. She had always been an elegant woman, regardless of her momentary weaknesses. "Still dressing like a man, I see." The djinni shrugged vainly. "Suppose that's the way ta go when yer tits are as small as yours. Say, I'm curious; are you still blonde all the way down?"

It was a credit to the exorcist's sophisticated nature in that she was able to simply shrug these indignant words off with a polite smile. She had grown accustomed to the djinni's uncouth nature many centuries ago and whilst others might have been appalled by the crudeness of his ways, Kira understood his nature only too well.

"And you're still as rude as ever. How about sheathing that sharp wit of yours before I unsheathe my crucifix?"

The djinni knew he had overstepped the mark and an involuntary shudder pierced through his toned body. The symbol of the crucifix itself was not the problem, mainly that it was made from silver and that stuff burnt his essence like a son of a bitch. "Okay… point taken… Listen, what brings you and your beauty spot to Kyoto?" Kira unconsciously touched the spot beneath her eye, feeling just the tiniest bit insecure about his pointing it out. But Ichibana had now diverted his attention to the suitably composed face of the young man that had since leant his weight against the far wall, clearly trying his damndest not to stare at the horribly eviscerated bodies to the djinni's back. "And who's this sweet little lump of flesh? I thought you independent agents didn't need partners ta go about yer business."

"We don't." Kira established, smirking just a bit at the attention her 'company' was receiving. From her own experiences with the young man, she wagered that he was most likely not averse to being regarded as a sex object but he had changed quite a bit since those days she had first made his acquaintance. It almost made her laugh when she thought back to what a provoking and arrogant kid he had been. It was something she should not have enjoyed as much as she did but poetic justice was always the most delicious. "But this case is… particularly unique. His majesty had little choice but to make this boy a Guardian of Death. Inexperienced though he is."

"Ah… I get it…" Ichibana mused, still examining the boys reclining figure with such fervid attention it would have surprised no one should the clothes have incinerated from his back. "He's something of a protégée ta you, right?"

"Right…" The exorcist confirmed, raising a curt eyebrow at Ichibana's continued attempts to mentally undress the boy with his eyes. "Aye, this is certainly not how I imagined my twilight years to be but there you go. He seems to be quite capable, despite my earlier impression of him. Come here." She gestured to the boy to come closer and he complied without hesitance. She did have him well trained, Ichibana thought with heavily inflected satisfaction. "This is Kenyle. Kenyle Fujisawa. Deceased less than a year."

"Nice to meet ya." Fujisawa said, offering Ichibana his hand and then gripping it for just that little bit longer in order to appraise the djinni's features with the detailed scrutiny their close proximity afforded him. It seemed that he examined Ichibana's profile from all angles, not limiting his attentions to above the waist. "Wow… you're even prettier than the blond guy… You've got great skin. Guess you get that a lot, eh?"

"Oh occasionally. And right back at ya!" The djinni smirked, recognizing a fellow pervert when he saw one. Kira chuckled, confirming as much.

"You'd best watch yourself, Ichibana. Fujisawa's a queer and he sure isn't shy about it. He's got a real knack for stealing other people's boyfriends right out from under them. Quite literally, most of the time."

"Can't a guy appreciate a pretty face?" The young man, well, whined, though he didn't seem particularly offended by Kira's words. They were clearly accurate.

"The trouble with you is that you don't stop appreciating, Fujisawa. That's what got you dead in the first place, remember?" Kira had snatched the lobe of the boys ear and was directing him back towards the alley wall that he had been leaning against. Ichibana leaned close to her once the protégé was out of earshot and whispered his concerns.

"Less than a year dead, huh? Isn't that a little early to be sending him out on field missions?"

Kira shrugged, burying her hands into her pockets in her uniquely masculine manner. "Well, that was my argument but… Kenyle's situation is, like I said earlier, unique."

The djinni nodded, opting to afford them some privacy in not pursuing the specifics of his situation any further and choosing instead to focus on what was applicable to him and his master. "You still haven't explained what you guys are doing here. Not that I didn't appreciate yer help earlier and all but Watari's already been sent in by the Summons Section to investigate the Kokakuro murders. Is there something else goin' on here that I don't know about?"

The exorcist laughed, giving the djinni's cheek a condescending pat.

"There's always plenty going on that you don't know about, djinni. The King of Hades has sent me in with Fujisawa because whispers of a great disturbance in the demonic realm has reached the ears of our majesty. We have reason to believe that the Summons Section requires some immediate support."

"Crickey…" Ichibana exclaimed, bringing his beautifully manicured nails up to cup his cheek. The mere mention of the King of Hades was usually enough to bring a shudder down his spine and a migraine to his brain. "Watari oughta feel pretty honored havin' a wildcat like you on his team."

She had always been a strong and intelligent women Kira Tsukiori and she didn't stand for nonsense. She simply let this comment slide over her, with barely the minimalist recognition. "Thanks for the compliment. Now, judging from the information we obtained from Yutaka Watari's most recent report, the suspected perpetrator of these heinous acts is believed to be none other than your old employer, correct?"

Ichibana nodded. "Mitkiel's altered mark appeared beneath the bodies of the Kokakuro victims. Not to mention Eurynomous' little visit tonight. He's still in the employ of Mitkiel and from what I gather, he set the mark of the Shukusatsu against Watari's body."

"That's only how it has been made to appear." Kira insisted, reaching into her inside breast pocket and withdrawing a carefully rolled cigarette, prepared in the event of idle moments such as these, in which it was moderately difficult to keep her hands readily occupied. Ichibana watched her light up and draw on the cylinder with palpable envy. Had he not suspected himself pregnant, he would have forced her to share with him, such was their routine. "If I recall correctly there were some significant mistakes in the prose woven into the sigil, indicating that the mark might have in fact been administered in an attempt to defer blame to Mitkiel. An inferior attempt at best."

"Ye don't say…?" The djinni mused, taking a step back so that he did not inhale any second hand smoke. If he was pregnant, the last thing he wanted to do was pop out a deformed baby. "Got any proof to back that up, sugar?"

"You know my line of work doesn't run on conclusive evidence, Ichibana." The exorcist sighed wearily, expressing her thoughts on the matter with that one forceful exhale. Agents that reported directly to the King of Hades and operated individually in specific demonic activity where to the Guardians of Death as the FBI is to rural police officers. It was harder, more engaging work but there came a certain pride attached to their status, that afforded them the right to strut and gloat accordingly when dealing with the lower ranks of the Ministry of Hades. Ichibana knew Kira was consistently hardworking and diligent but she had a lot on her plate right now, at work and in her personal life. He thought she handled what had to be difficult existence with both verve and grace. "When dealing with demons, you can really only go on your own intuition and in this case my feelings were right on the ball."

"So… you do have evidence that Mitkiel is being framed for these latest attacks? Well why not just say so to begin with?" Ichibana exclaimed with quaint frustration, tilting his hands upward in physical definition of his slight irritation.

Kira shook her head, denying his assumption credibility. "Mitkiel's definitely involved in this but he wasn't the one responsible for the murders in Kokakuro. We know this because the demon-god was in direct contact with His Majesty Enma, employing our assistance in detaining the one whom we establish to be the true instigator of the crimes committed within Kokakuro".

Ichibana felt a queer, professional persona take over him and thought it had something to do with Watari's command over him. He was due to report all information he obtained back to the Guardian, who had clearly designed the djinni's instilled commands with a purpose in actively pursuing the maximum level of facts that could be afforded. What a pain… He had no choice but to submit to this sudden whimsy however. Besides… he was curious also, loathe though he undoubtedly was to admit it. "So what are we looking at here?

"Something quite peculiar." Kira mused, twirling the dwindling cigarette between her long fingers. "A Popo Bawa."

Now that was peculiar, even in Ichibana's experience. It had been four hundred years since his arrival on this plane and he had yet to set eyes on this enigma of a phantom, long presumed to be extinct. "You don't say? A Popo Bawa, huh?" The djinni set his fingers against the delicate curl of his chin, eyes trained toward the ground in contemplation. "Can't say I saw that coming."

"It's quite a tangled web." The exorcist agreed. "What I can say for certain is that this creature is causing Mitkiel a great deal of grief. Trouble enough that he came crying to His Majesty Enma for assistance. This Popo Bawa is something of a fanatic. Just as some religious fanatics will kill and enact devastating atrocities in the name of God, it seems this creature is committing punishments in Mitkiel's name."

"And let me guess;" Ichibana began with a knowing roll of his eyes. "Mitkiel, being the proud demon, doesn't like any lower level entity using his name and enforcing his methods to instigate his own brand of power?"

"Exactly. Those demons are a complicated lot."

Ichibana bit back what he felt was a well deserved comment about how women were equally convoluted creatures themselves but figured that little barb was best left for a less serious conversation. He went with his second thought instead. "Well you knew what you were getting into when you chose to specialize in them."

Kira laughed, the effect making her seem that little bit more feminine in retrospect. Only when she was genuinely happy could an outsider beget the woman that hid beneath this clever guise of masculine surliness. "Yes, I suppose that I did. You are a complex lot, though you are certainly… intriguing in your own way."

Ichibana felt that there was an intentional nuance in the girls words and pounced on it as a hungry feline cages a nimble bird between its claws. An opportunity to rekindle a residual spark was certainly too enchanting an offer to allow to pass by the wayside without the slightest bit of attention.

"Is that why you helped me out back there? Do you still find yourself… intrigued?"

Though Ichibana had always preferred men to women, he knew that if he were to ever settle down in his ways, Kira would be the one that he would choose to 'goody two shoes' around with. He would always desire to play the field, that was the nature of the beast but he always counted Kira as his number one girl and had unashamedly told her as much.

The exorcist look unaccountably tired, simply considering what Ichibana was suggesting. She dropped the cigarette against the wet cement and ground her sensible, flat heeled black shoes into the burning ember until it was completely extinguished. Ichibana wondered if she was simultaneously making a metaphorical point.

"Now let's not go involving ourselves in that sordid process again, djinni." She groaned, brushing frequently gnawed upon nails back through her increasingly dampening head of hair. That light drizzle still fell upon Kyoto. "It's simply tiresome being with someone who is too mysterious for comfort."

Ichibana laughed at this. "Baby, you're the mysterious one. You become more mysterious to those around you with every passing moment."

The djinni made a valid point and Kira had to admit it. "True. But at least you knew what I was about. You made me question my sexuality… male body or no. Plus, I would always question your whereabouts if not directly to your face. You've always been a fun loving guy Ichibana. … And from what I gather you've recently had just a little too much fun. Loving." She indicated the djinni's still flat, non-showing belly but the point was distressingly clear. She'd heard enough of his and Oriya's discussion to know that the djinni might have been expecting in the near future. Ichibana frowned, not appreciating the shoe now that it was squarely on the other foot.

"Ha ha, hardy-ha. Now who's being a smart ass?"

"Well it's not as though you don't deserve it." Kira said fairly, gesturing back to Fujisawa who still appeared quite absorbed in examining the djinni from all angles. Ichibana wondered if he was counting his eyelashes. "The boy here spoke to your boss in the club and confirmed what we've known for some time. That blond bimbo has barely scraped the surface of this investigation."

Ichibana felt just a bit of raw anger seep into his mood and realized with no small amount of shame, that it was a defensive impulse. "Hey! I happen to be rather fond of that blond bimbo, missy."

Kira held up her hands, indicating that she meant no great offense in her interpretation of Watari. "Well I'm sorry but you must confess; he hasn't made great headway in regards to this case."

"He has his reasons." Ichibana stated wondering why he felt this sudden overpowering need to stand up for the man that had kept him bonded for the better part of fourteen long years. "There's a significant factor that is impacting his progress. Call it emotional baggage."

Kira mused on this, clearly not finding it an acceptable means to delay an investigation progress. Sometimes she was so strong, she completely fell out of touch with what it was like to feel weakness. "Hmm… incidentally, I have some information that I might ask that you pass on for me. Fujisawa and I infiltrated the coroners department, where the bodies of the deceased girls were being stored until appropriate funeral arrangements had been made. The first two females had been removed by their families but the third, the orphan girl, had remained there until a living relative might have been contacted. Imagine our surprise when we removed the body in order to examine the wounds first hand, only to find that it was not the recorded dead girls face that we were confronted with, but the face of the one reportedly institutionalized at the hospital."

Ichibana literally felt his features freeze over with shock. An odd sensation, particularly since this information should not have impacted his emotions to the degree that it did. This was Watari's concern, not his. "Ye mean… the girl that supposedly survived… is now dead?"

"According to the information we gathered in our brief examination of the corpse, we estimate that this girl – Kiekemi wasn't it?" She glanced back to Fujisawa for confirmation and received his nod of approval. "Has been deceased for a little over a week now."

"The same date as the killings within Kokakuro…" Ichibana confirmed, mentally counting back in his mind. A thought came to him. "But then, what of the girl within the hospital?"

"Naturally that was our next point of call. We arrived at the hospital to find the bed empty. Apparently the girls father came to get her. They checked out early this morning."

"Not a bad cover story…" Ichibana admitted. He didn't have to like it but how could you argue the clarity of that?

Kira shook her head fiercely, her face taking on that distinctive hard edge it always acquired when she was figuring something out. "Quite so. If not for the fact that we extensively covered this Kiekemi's family background. Her only living relative is a younger female cousin currently living in Takamatsu. We found her father's name on the List of the Deceased. He was killed in a boating accident when the girl was barely five years of age. Her mother died in childbirth. The man that retrieved her from the hospital was certainly not Kiekemi's father because the girl that was hospitalized a week ago was not Kiekemi at all."

"This girl was never intended to die… her neck was not gashed like the other girls…" Ichibana pondered over as much of the case specifics as he knew of it and nothing appeared to hold true to what they had thus learnt. The entire investigation appeared to crumble the more Kira revealed of it. And then a brilliant, wonderful, fantastic thought came to mind. "But if she wasn't Kiekemi… and Kiekemi is actually being held in the morgue… there's only one person that girl could be…"

"Yes." Kira said, nodding. "The other blond one; Seki."

This was great news to Ichibana and he knew Watari would be even more substantially enamored of it but there were still a number of things that didn't make sense here. "But how was her identity hidden for such a sustained period of time?"

It was Fujisawa he answered him this time. Apparently he had grown bored with just standing back out of the way. "The girl has been in a coma for a week, only awakening for very brief periods. She was in and out of consciousness like a light. And the guy we're dealin' with is a mimic. It only stands to reason that he might have thrown a Mask across the girl, making her appearance that of Kiekemi's until such a time that her body was repaired enough that she might be…" He trailed off here, either feeling as though he had said too much, or perhaps having nothing more to say at all.

Ichibana pushed for the option that he might have a more extensive interpretation to share. This was important to Watari and owing to his contract, it was as such important to Ichibana too. "'Might be…' what exactly?"

The boy shrugged carelessly, though it was not from lack of concern but alternatively his lack of extended knowledge on the subject itself. "Who can say? I know even less about how demons operate than you guys do. This is still all rather new to me."

"Right, right, of course." Ichibana immediately felt a little bad for landing the pressure on him, especially so soon after his death and he backed right off, directing his questions toward Kira again."Listen, have you guys checked the List of the Deceased for Seki's name?"

Kira seemed a little offended that Ichibana had questioned their responsibilities in adhering to what was a standard procedure at the outset of a typical murder investigation but bit her tongue in order to prevent herself from responding with something crass. "Yutaka Watari was sent to investigate the Kokakuro because there was the possibility of demonic interference. Now that it has been confirmed I have been sent in to personally deal with the involved supernatural parties. As for the List of the Deceased well… what the Summons Section failed to mention was that this Seki's spirit is acting rather… well erratically."

"'Erratically' meaning…?" Ichibana pursued.

"Well, it is recorded as being missing but now we know that's not the case, as she is not deceased at all. However, on occasion her name has flashed on and off of the List of the Deceased. It's as though she is passing between life and death…"

"Great." Ichibana muttered, looking sidelong towards the wall on his right. It subjected him to the apathetic stare of the inanimate. "I don't know if that's going to make blondie feel any better…"

"Beg your pardon?" Kira inquired, slouching her head side long in order to gain his attention. Ichibana immediately brought his head back up, smiling that big fake grin he often enforced when attempting to conceal an unattractive emotion.

"Oh nothing… look, it's been lovely catching up but I've really gotta get this shit out of sight."

"Do you require assistance?" The exorcist was already rolling up her sleeves, behaving as though the prospect of physically handling these mutilated carcasses was all in days work. Ichibana held up his hands, warding her offer from enacting itself.

"From you? Ease up there little darlin', no point in worrying your pretty little head about it. This ain't a job for a lady. Even a lady who looks like a man." He established with his trademark teasing smile that had made him renowned on precisely three continents to date.

Kira stared at him, possibly trying to decide whether it was worth slamming her knee into his groin. But hey, she was used to it. You couldn't expect anything less from someone you had grown up with. Even if you had grown up together intending to kill one another at every available turn. "That was… almost charming." She finally decided.

"It's what I'm famous for." The djinni's smile never faltered. Kira chuckled softly, bringing her sleeves back down to align atop her delicate wrists. She snapped the cuff buttons back into place, securing herself back within her safe male façade. It was almost a shame, the djinni thought forlornly.

"Well, that's fine with me. Fujisawa and I have to be getting along, we're due for direct contact with Mitkiel at daybreak and god knows the boy here is eager to take to Prince Eurynomous' heels." Fujisawa scuffed the ground with his feet like a bull preparing to charge. Ichibana appreciated his wit at such a dangerous prospect but felt the edge of concern slide insidiously into the pit of his belly.

"Yer gonna speak with Mitkiel?" He asked Kira's impassive features. The exorcist didn't appear the least bit concerned.

"Yes. Rest assured, I won't say a word to him of your involvement."

"Oh, I believe Eurynomous will take care of that." The djinni established sullenly. "You just be careful, all right? That guy has a foul mind and a taste for a pretty face."

"I'll keep that in mind. Though I hear that demon prefers men to women so perhaps it is Fujisawa that had best watch his rear?" Kira smirked over one shoulder and couldn't help but laugh at the scowling vision that had become of her young protégé, the implication of her words having not been lost on him.

A remaining errand came to the forefront of the exorcists mind and she figured it best dealt with while she had a confidant of Yutaka Watari's in her presence. His Majesty had firmly deigned that it wait not a second to be delivered, these words of his…

"Oh and Ichibana; Watari has Fujisawa's contact details but he's not yet aware that he and I are acting agents in the investigation so do me a favor and clue him in as soon as you have the chance to do so. We'll be stopping in at Kokakuro tomorrow, to fill him in on and the details and we'll discuss whatever we can confirm with Mitkiel at tomorrow mornings meeting."

"I'll make sure he gets the message." Ichibana sighed and flashed a genuine smile. He felt purely happy for what he would be telling Watari in the morning. It was nice to be the bearer of good news every once in a while. "There's a lot you've said already that is going to make a world of difference to him, you know."

"In addition, I have a message from His Majesty Enma himself." Moving right along to her unhappy errand. Not unhappy particularly to her mind but it was surely going to cause some negative feelings once the required demands had been set in place.

"Right, let's have it."

Kira's voice took on a professional tone that didn't even sound like her own. It was firm and authoritative, no trace of humor detectible within her slightly husky pitch. "For his illegal dalliances with one of the True Life's Enma is issuing Yutaka Watari an official warning. He is to annul all current intimate arrangements with the client Oriya Mibu or disciplinary action will be taken in order to correct his behavior."

Ah… so this wasn't going to be the exclusively happy chat Ichibana was anticipating. The djinni could sense some gigantic hissy throwing fits in the imminently near future. "I hardly think the threat of disciplinary action is enough to make Watari back off, missy." He thought again of Oriya's indisputably beautiful features, the five percent body fat, the gentlemanly disposition and the tightest butt this side of Japan. … Nope. The threat of thumbscrews wasn't likely to force Yutaka Watari to fax Oriya his marching papers and an issued verbal warning was definitely not going to have an effect on his lust addled half-brain.

Kira gave Ichibana a very scolding look. "It's not as light hearted as it may sound, Ichibana. Should the warning fail to make a difference, Yutaka Watari faces unspecified suspension from the Summons Section."

"With pay?" The djinni asked hopefully. Kira rolled her eyes, realizing that this wasn't having the intended effect it was supposed to. Perhaps Yutaka Watari would be more receptive than his servant, though the impression that she had received from others suggested that Watari was a man who did what he liked regardless of what anyone else thought. He even tested his obscure chemical remedies out on his coworkers, for gods sake!

"No he does not receive pay and he might be stripped of his title as a Guardian of Death."

Ichibana wrinkled his nose sympathetically. "Damn that's mean. But it's weird, I've never known Enma to take such interest in the romantic affairs of the guardians before."

Kira secretly thought the same, though it wasn't really of great interest to her so she didn't see fit to mention it. "Those guardians of death…" She mused, voice thoughtful. "Would it not be easier for them to simply keep it in the office?"

"… Yeah. An office romance would be less complicated." Ichibana said sarcastically. But thinking about the Summons Section office made him consider something that he had been terribly remiss of before. "Hey, wait a minute… How did Enma even know that Watari was having it off with the spunky guy?"

"You know, I'm actually stuck for that myself." The exorcist admitted, placing her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side. "It was strange; when he called me in to speak of that matter, he appeared to have a disturbingly intimate knowledge of what had passed between them."

"… How intimate?" Ichibana asked, feeling suddenly worried and even a little embarrassed for his two humans. Kira's slightly curled lip was enough of an indication as to how in depth Enma's description had been at the time. She had never been much for blushing and when she was embarrassed, Kira would express it by either biting her lip, or curling it upward slightly.

"Intimate enough to make me feel inclined to leave the room."

"That bad, eh?" Ichibana groaned, wondering just how on earth he was supposed to broach this topic with Watari after the night he'd had "…But how could he possibly know that…? I know he has camera's all over the Summons Section… He didn't get you guys ta bug Kokakuro did he? Not that I mind an audience myself but come on! Is a little privacy in a brothel too much to ask for?"

"Don't look at us." Kira said, shrugging her shoulders laboriously. "Besides the depth of His Majesty's knowledge into the affairs of the blond were such that I doubt he would be able to ascribe the delicate sensations to memory simply from viewing a video tape." She stinted on this a while but seemed to come up with nothing satisfactory in order to explain it. "I don't know."

Ichibana tried to squeeze as much from her as possible. Watari would want to know every itsy bitsy tiny detail if he was supposed to break up with Oriya because of it. "He didn't say a word to you of his decision?"

Now it was Kira's turn to be sarcastic. "Oh yes. We discussed it heartily during one of our annual pajama parties. Then we braided one another's hair and had a pillow fight." She threw her fists down in a childish gesture. just to indicate how pointless and asinine Ichibana's question had been. "Exactly how chummy do you take His Majesty and I to be?"

"Well… chummier than most…" Ichibana's thoughts then went off in their usual perverted direction and he broke the thread of the conversation just long enough to ask an informed question. "Is he still as handsome as ever?"

"… Oh, I don't know… who can say?" Kira said, shrugging. She was never very good at these sorts of matters, being even less of a girly-girl than Ichibana. The djinni stole a glance towards Fujisawa who confirmed his question by mouthing 'Oh yeah' and exhaling dramatically whilst fanning his face. Yes, Enma was still a pretty face. What you got to see of it anyway.

It was a nice distraction but Ichibana's thoughts came back to Watari again and he felt that cold wave of remorse steal over him.

"Damn, what a thing to dump on a guy." He groaned, running a hand back through his hair. "Poor bubble-brain… he's not gonna know which way to yank his face."

Ichibana's original language had been German, so Kira simply presumed that something had been lost in translation with this saying. She'd certainly never heard it before herself.

"Well, it's to be expected when a Guardian gets involved with a human. It's only likely to end in heartbreak." She was expectantly frank but then again, she had to be. Her job and lifestyle provided that she be realistic, in all manner of applications.

"To be expected, eh?" Ichibana repeated. The conversation was souring and he didn't wish to part with Kira on such terms, so he altered the course of their exchange slightly. "But hey, on a higher note, how's the little belle goin'? Single parenting suitin' ya?"

It was a generally accepted fact that Guardians of Death, in particular male Guardians of Death, were not equipped with the same sexual reproductive functions that they possessed in life. Though everything still worked adequately in regards to sex, conception was impossible, the sperm born through the ejaculation process entering the body already dead, much like the Guardian of Death from which they came. Female Guardians were slightly different in that they still possessed a completely functional reproductive system. They still underwent a menstruation cycle and continued to produce healthy eggs, that were capable of being fertilized by the male seed should the female Guardian engage in a sex act whilst she was ovulating. Dating humans was not so much forbidden as it was a faux pas and even now, there had been no female Guardian of Death impregnated whilst serving within the Ministry of Hades. Except for Kira. Who had had a little accident as she so tactfully chose to phrase it. Enma had wanted the pregnancy aborted, fearing that anything born from the union of a Live One and a Guardian of Death could only be devastating but Kira had pleaded a favor in keeping the baby. Because she was one of Enma's favorites, she was allowed to go through with the pregnancy. That had been nearly eleven months ago. Ichibana knew that she had gone off on a mission to some Catholic School where a demon was at large during the first term of her pregnancy and greatly disapproved of her taking that risk. Such was her profound ability however, that Kira had been able to continue working with her usual skill and finesse and still keep her baby protected from the dangers presented during the job.

The demon exorcist nodded, a faint flicker of fondness twisting her lips upward. She was a good mother and she loved her son infinitely. "Fine, fine. Some days are harder than most. Not to mention it's a bastard trying to find a good babysitter in my line of business."

It was a good chance to gauge her current relationship status and Ichibana didn't hold back. "What? The guy who knocked you up too busy shoveling fries ta lend a hand?"

Kira shot him an unappreciative look and stuck her tongue out. "Not that it's any of your business anymore but I haven't had anything to do with that man since Akiru's birth. I decided to raise him on my own and I'm totally fine with that."

Ichibana smiled, pleased beyond his ability to adequately voice it. "Well… you learn somethin' new everyday."

The moment between them was courteously broken by Fujisawa clearing his throat. Ichibana couldn't blame him for being bored but couldn't the kid see how important it was for him to firmly establish his interest in getting back into the demon exorcists man pants?

"Kira? Hate ta rush ya but… we really should get going."

Kira nodded, appearing none the bit disappointed by her young partners intrusion. Ichibana wondered if her hormones were as badly repressed as- … well no, that was a lie. Ichibana never let his hormones get repressed. That was just unhealthy. Just look at what it had done to Oriya. "Yes, of course. Be with you in just a moment." She turned back to Ichibana, fixing him with a stern glare, discouraging his continued advancements. "Do let Watari know what I have told you tonight. And don't go forgetting Enma's directive either. It's vitally important that the message reaches Watari's ears."

The djinni made an ok sign with his fingers, trying not to think about how much he wished that the two of them were alone, so that he could press that slender body against the nearest wall and rip those distressingly masculine pants down around Kira's ankles. But he had learnt from experience that should he have ever implemented his hormones when she wasn't in the right mood, he would earn a very hard smack around the head with the flat end of her artsy demon fighting sword. Best restrain himself and hope that she might come back to him when and if she was ready and willing.

"I hear ya, honey. You be sure ta take care of yerself." They were old friends, so it was okay that he take her hands in his own and plant a light kiss against her cheek. That was not imposing himself and she knew that, so he was not rewarded with a box about the ears for which he was always grateful to avoid after conversing with women.

"You too. I shall see you tomorrow." The demon exorcist turned without further ado and walked with Fujisawa towards the head of the alleyway. It was such an abrupt and unsatisfactory way to end things that Ichibana felt it his duty to set the mood back to rights again.

"Hey Kira?" He called tentatively.

The blonde turned her head, her expression expectant of what she undoubtedly knew was coming her way. "Yes?"

The djinni leered suggestively and brought one heavily mascared eye down in a heavily laden wink of insinuation. "Baby or no baby, your ass has never looked better."

It worked a treat, bringing out that warm humor very rarely present in Kira's face and making everything seem a little less grim in comparison. Her intrinsic response was simply to grin and stick her middle finger up over her shoulder as she and the young pervert disappeared into the lights from the highway.

It had been a long evening with plenty of food for thought but Ichibana didn't waste a further second in fruitless contemplation. That could wait until later, when there weren't five heavily mutilated bodies to subtly dispose of.

The night loomed large before him with the end a fleeting shadow receding into the distance.

It was time to work.

Oriya

I pulled in at Kokakuro and parked the bike back in the garage, where I was certain I had left it chained up previously. It was then that Yutaka finally stirred and I almost dropped him, the degree of his revival being so alarming. He shrieked loudly and thrashed in my hold, crying out when he registered the pain from his various afflictions. Tightening my grip just enough to render him still, I rushed up into the entrance hall, liberally bouncing free of my clogs and leaving them spread-eagled on the stoop. Yutaka was sobbing loudly enough to wake the household and I was forced to smother his cries with my hand.

"Yutaka, calm down! Everything's fine now, we're home. You're safe. Easy now."

I carried the guardian into the closest living area, seating myself down on the floor and nursing him against my body, rocking him back and forth until the sobbing ceased. When I was sure that he was calm, I moved my hand away from his mouth and instead used that hand to brush his bangs back off of his tender face.

"Oriya…" His accented voice was raspy, damage having been done unto his throat. "Oriya I…" His face crumpled and tears started running down his poor beaten cheeks. I held him affectionately, clinching his body against mine and soothing him with hushed susurrations.

"We should go get you cleaned up, honey. You're in a pretty bad way." I said, forcing my own weary body back to its feet. I carried the blond back through the entrance hall, walking past the locked doorways to where the murders had occurred and heading for my bedroom. Yutaka clung to me tightly as I made my way into the bathroom and when I sat him down on the closed toilet seat and told him to wait whilst I went to get his pajama's together, he sank his battered face down into his hands and sobbed helplessly, legs coiling up tightly against his body. I felt my own eyes turn to water at the pathetic sight of this cheerful and confident man being reduced to the state of a frightened child.

"I'm only going to the next room to get your pajama's, Yutaka. I'll only be gone a moment. Be brave. Nothing else is going to hurt you, I promise."

I pulled myself away from him and made my way out of my room and back into the hallway proper, turning right to follow the wall into the guest bedroom. The Gushoushin was still sleeping but 003 was nowhere in sight. I didn't dwell on this for long and set to work searching through the guardians bag of belongings, pushing aside bundles of clothes and underwear – most of the g-strings getting tangled around my fingers in the process. As I struggled to unhook several that had somehow managed to knot themselves together, something stirred behind me and I heard a gasped exclamation.

"Mr. Mibu!"

I glanced over my shoulder, lace and string dangling from my hands and an unintentional expression of guilt dawning across my features.

"It's not how it looks." I said stupidly. The Gushoushin just gave me one of those looks that are easy to interpret, difficult to describe. Basically it suggested that a lawsuit was impending.

The fowl floated up off of his futon, stubby arms crossed over his chest. "Mr. Mibu, if you were that keen to admire Mr. Watari's underwear, you could have just asked. I'm sure he would have been more than happy to lend you a pair or two."

I waved my hand around erratically, trying to free the thongs from my fingers. They snapped to and fro, battering at the back of my hand but remained firmly tangled together. I could only imagine how bad this looked.

"Yutaka… he had a little accident while out on duty tonight." I explained, reaching out into the bag with my unoccupied hand and sifting through the clothing, seeking out anything that might have resembled pajamas. "He needs some help getting washed and changed tonight. I just came in to get him some clean clothes and underwear. … I'm really not a pervert."

The Gushoshin continued to stare at me, scrutinizing my expression with its own keen glare. It took him a minute or so of silent introspection but it seemed that he ultimately decided to trust my words, because he pointed with one feathered finger towards Yutaka's neatly made futon.

"He keeps his pajama's under the pillow. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and let you take the underwear but I'll be checking with Mr. Watari in the morning, just so you know. Don't make me regret it, Mr. Mibu."

"I assure you that my intentions this night are nothing if not noble." I assured him, wishing I could apply this to the last few days of outright deception I had embarked upon, just to ensure that Muraki wouldn't raise his hand to harm another person. "If you do not believe me, then go check on him yourself. He is in my bathroom, in a terrible state of affairs."

The Gushoshin gave a brief nod and then floated over towards the doorway. "Not meaning to be rude, Mr. Mibu but I believe I will go and check on him, just to be sure. I must keep well informed of my partners' condition. Feel free to continue your… em, foraging in the meantime."

I scoffed, insulted that I might be placed on the same perverted level as Muraki. Just goes to show; you can be judged by those you associate with. This left me with a great deal to work with, considering whom my current company was. No offense Muraki but you've got to admit, you're not the most positive person to assort with.

I rustled under Yutaka's pillow and pulled out the neatly folded clothing he had tucked beneath. A blue pair of baggy pajama pants with drawstring, quite conservative if you didn't take into account the two paw prints located on the back, allocated to a buttock respectively. The top was a black high-necked pullover with the quotation; "I had a nightmare, I dreamt I was a brunette" written across the chest area. I stifled a snicker. Considering that this was coming from a man whom openly confessed that dark haired men were his type, it was kind of cheeky. Cheeky… but cute. I had to admit, his attitude appealed to me.

I gathered the pajama's up and selected one of the more conservative pieces of underwear that was still sanctioned about my fingers. As I was extricating the last few thongs and replacing all the clothing neatly back in the suitcase, the Gushoshin came floating back in, his expression grim.

"His injuries… they are residual. That's uncommon for a Guardian. What exactly happened?" He asked me, in a low, serious tone of voice. It felt very strange, this tenor being directed at me from a creature that resembled your average, run of the mill garden capon. Granted this was an average, run of the mill garden capon with all the functioning capacity of a human being and more so.

I wasn't informed enough to explain the situation in length, I figured that was best left to Yutaka when he was in a better frame of mind. So I simplified it as much as possible.

"A group of men, being orchestrated by a demon… took issue with him." I sounded very stereotypical country, even to my own ears. When my speech took this pattern, it made me realize just how far removed from Tokyo I had become; how much more of a Kyoto boy I was now. "He can explain it to you better in the mornin'. But I think it best that I tend to him now."

He looked a little unsure about placing Yutaka in my care, the Gushoshin. "Well… you're right about that, Mr. Mibu, that's for sure. Will you be putting him to bed here?"

I thought on this. "I… figured that it would be best if I remained with him. Moving him about a great deal might aggravate the injuries. If you approve, I thought I might just set him to rights in my bed for the night. My attentions being nothing but to sleep by his side of course." I dipped my head downward, feeling that respect was due. The pullet responded favorably and though he didn't seem happy about any aspect of these developing events, it appeared that he possessed enough faith in me to entrust Yutaka to my custody.

"He is in your hands then. There is little I could do to alter the turn of events, anyhow." The blue clad fowl sank down into his pillow and hefted a deep weary sigh. "This is one of the many reasons it is dangerous for Mr. Watari to embark on a field mission. He has not been specifically trained to handle confrontational situations. And on top of that, he has no partner on which to rely!"

I nodded, climbing to my feet and clutching the accumulated clothing against my chest. "He does seem to take unprecedented risks. I did advise him against going out tonight… well, demanded really. I just… didn't realize that a Guardian of Death could be so… fragile."

"I've never seen Mr. Watari in such a state before…" The Gushoshin mused, eyes downcast. "Please Mr. Mibu just… do your best for him. There's little assistance that I can provide in this sort of situation."

"I will." I said, making my way back over to the doorway, anxious to get back to Yutaka. "You can rely on me, Mr. Gushoshin."

The fowl nodded, some semblance of a smile stretching outwards across his beak. "I knew that I could."

He didn't elaborate on his subtle insinuation but I caught his meaning anyway. He could trust me, he meant, because he knew how I felt about Yutaka. Which was quite an assumption to make, considering that I wasn't a hundred percent certain on those feelings myself. I was very fond of him, that much I could affirm without fear of later contradiction. And I was attracted to him; physically, emotionally and mentally. I had connected with him on a level that I had with no other person I had ever known. His mind was fascinating to me, his kindness sensual and heartwarming.

I left the Gushoshin to whatever assumptions he had made and returned to the bathroom in my room, turning on the shower just as soon as I had stepped inside. I adjusted the temperature so that the water was only luke warm, knowing well that the showering process was bound to be painful and hot water would only aggravate the wounds. Once there was a steady stream beating against the porcelain floor, I set the pajama's down and knelt before Yutaka, grasping his wrists in my hands and gently pulling his palms away from his face. His eyes were blank, like an empty void, the same kind of expression worn by those that have been subject to trauma. One side of his face was so swollen; I doubted that he was able to see out of it.

"I've got to get you cleaned up." I told him, taking his shoulders and gently pulling him into a standing position. He whimpered softly but managed a small nod, hissing at the pain that even this minute action caused. I reached back and pulled the hair band free, allowing the bloodied and vomit strewn locks to fall free down the length of his back. He removed his own glasses and reached out to set them on the sink, his arm fussing about in mid-air as he attempted to gauge the distance. He was still incredibly out of it, his actions trancelike, as though he had induced a powerful hallucinogenic. I relieved him of what had become a tiresome burden, placing the glasses aside and then reaching out and setting my hands on the upper layer yukata that he still held tightly about his slender body.

"I'm going to undress you now," I said slowly, making sure to keep my voice even and gentle. Considering the degradation he had just endured at the hands of those cretins in the alleyway, I wanted to ensure that he felt both safe and comfortable in my touching him and removing his garments. This was certainly not something that could be easily orchestrated without some residual feelings of fear and it would have broken my heart if I thought for one moment that Yutaka might have shrunk from my hands with tears and protest.

But he did not cry out and resist the process. With a simple nod, he shrugged free the yukata, allowing it to pool in wrinkled folds around his booted feet.

"Okay…" He said, his voice straining to be heard above the limitations placed against it by the bruising about his throat. "…gentle… it hurts… k?"

"All right, honey." I assured him as I clutched the lapels of his jacket and pulled it backwards to follow the line of his arms downwards. He slumped suddenly and I snapped one arm around his lower back, pulling his limp body against me. I couldn't trust him to stand without support, so physically weak he had become.

"I'm sorry…" He whispered, clutching at my upper arms with his broken fingers, sinking his face into the crook of my neck. The heat of his injuries radiated against my flesh as though they burnt alive with a very real fire. "… don't think my legs… can hold me… sorry…"

"Oh… that's fine, sweetheart." I said, stroking his hair back in order to soothe his weary features. My heart verily ached for him, for this strange, sweet guardian of death. "I'll take care of you. Just relax your arms back. That's it… there you go…"

I pried the jacket free from his upper body and shoved it aside, wincing in sympathy at the black and purple bruises already beginning to well on his now exposed arms. There was a strange peppering of scar tissue welling from the joint of his left elbow but I dismissed this as residual damage from the previous beating and gave it not a second thought. I worked on his t-shirt next, slowly pulling it up over his chest and working his head out from the turtleneck. His hair flopped back down over his shoulders, trailing in waves onto his chest and down the line of his spine. Under different circumstances, I would have allowed myself to enjoy the appealing imagery. Yutaka possessed quite a comely swimmers build and though he was not what you might call toned; he was proportioned just adequately enough to still appear masculine. Sex starved as I was, my hormones weren't difficult to ignite and Yutaka positively delighted my senses. Even witnessing him in such a vulnerable state as this! I couldn't deny, terrible though it was, that there was something undeniably appealing about it.

I forced these feelings back, understanding full well that they were inappropriate to entertain when Yutaka was defenseless like this. Concentrating entirely on the task, I lowered my hands to unbuckle the front of his pants, urging him back to seat himself on the toilet when I had worked the trousers down past his bottom. Removing his boots enabled me to pull the tight navy blue pants off, until he sat before me, kept modest only by the skimpy black and red thong sanctioned crookedly about his hips. I hooked my fingers under the thin straps, smiling unconsciously when I thought back to the incident in the bedroom only minutes beforehand. I probably wouldn't be able to look the Gushoushin in the eye from here on in.

"Lift your bottom, Yutaka." I urged, going so far as to wrap my arm about his bare midsection, hefting him upward just enough to create some space between the flesh of his buttocks and the toilet seat. Yutaka tilted his head forward, groaning softly as I removed the thong and set it aside, intending to have all of his clothes washed when available time presented itself. My eyes inadvertently scanned the guardians' body. He really was lovely to look at. Not universally sculptured but rounded in all the right places and rather sensuous in his naturalness. His neck was especially pleasing. I hadn't had many opportunities to enjoy the sight of it, Yutaka most often opting to hide it beneath high-necked shirts. It was a shame really. It was so long and slender, that feminine sway from the line of his hair downward, to the pale arch of his throat… I allowed myself a small luxury in a brief visualization of how it might feel to trail my lips up and down along his neck. It was erotic and mildly satisfying, just enough to speed up my breathing pattern substantially. I found myself reaching out, just meaning to stroke my fingers down along either side of the guardians bruised throat and was immediately refuted midway by Yutaka's shaking hand, battering uselessly at my wrist.

"No…" He groaned, managing to curl his fingers around my own and forcing them away from his neck. "… don't… I can't…" He trailed off, leaning forward to press his forehead against my cheek, his palm falling against the wall of my chest. "Please…"

My eyes dropped down to follow the line of his back and I moaned sympathetically at the various cuts and bruises adorning his body – the grime clinging to his pale skin, the patches of flesh that were completely rubbed raw.

Yutaka leaned forward dramatically and I helped him stand up, bringing his body in close against mine so that his weight was effectively stationed. We moved towards the shower and I realized only then, that he was not going to be able to stand up on his own. I would have to get in with him. If it were a bath, I could have sat him in it and remained outside of the tub but in doing this, Yutaka would be forced to bathe in his own filth and the idea of him marinating in the water like a disturbing broth was enough to make me cringe. A shower it had to be. All the blood, flesh and grime would be washed away.

I held Yutaka steady with one arm, alternating each hand in order to strip my own clothes off. Once I was naked, I steered him into the shower, sliding the door shut behind us and submerging his body beneath the warm stream of water. I winced understandingly as the blond cried out in pain. The pounding water must have caused his assorted injuries to sting maddeningly. I apologized continuously as I held him in place, using a sponge to clean the dried patches of blood from his skin. The water in the base of the shower turned a light shade of pink, swirling about our bare feet and then sliding down into the darkness of the drain. Yutaka tilted forward, pressing his forehead against the tiled wall of the shower and bracing his arms on either side of his head. He sobbed softly, staring down to follow the waters movement into the plughole. His crying slowly ceased and was replaced instead with a contemplative silence.

"Where would you go… where sin's washed away…" He murmured thoughtfully, his words making no sense to me but keeping him calm at the very least. I ran the sponge down along the line of his back, being careful not to press too hard against his bruises. I groped about on the shower rack, eventually coming across a bar of soap suitable for sensitive skin. Starting from the back of his neck I scrubbed away the dirty footprint one of Yutaka's assailants had left and worked my way down soaping then rinsing the guardians pale skin. He stood beneath the nozzle, entirely still throughout the whole sorry process. It took a little over ten minutes to work free the majority of dried blood and grime from his back, legs and bottom. His tan lines were now exposed, making him seem more real to me, more vulnerable even and somehow, more human. A triangle of pale flesh against his buttocks suggested his normality, a man who liked to laze in the sun. Someone who was not too far removed from me.

"Oriya…?" His voice was so soft; I had to dip my chin over his shoulder in order to hear it. "Does every room… in Kokakuro… have a…a bathroom …?"

I didn't understand where this was leading to but I supposed it contributed to keeping Yutaka's temperament level, which was more important than anything right now. I caressed the back of his neck, consciously separating the lower halves of our bodies to prevent any inappropriate reactions that might have unintentionally occurred as a result of any accidental contact.

"Yes. Each room has an adjoining ensuite." I told him, running my hands up into his long head of hair, feeling out the dried clumps of blood and working them out as best I could. "Why should this matter? You do realize you have your own bathroom, right?"

Yutaka took a deep breath and it was clearly a trial effort to speak at great length, though he pushed himself forwards anyway.

"Even room where murders…" His voice not so much fell as oozed out from his bruised and split lips. I forced him to stand upright, bringing his head underneath the nozzle so I could dampen his hair.

"Yes, even there, Yutaka. And if you think it's important, we'll have a look in there tomorrow, when you're hopefully feeling better. Right now, you need to let me take care of you. Okay?"

He nodded but didn't seem happy about the delay. Honestly, if this did indeed contribute towards solving the case, I was just as eager to investigate as he was. But Yutaka's condition required immediate attention and there wasn't much that could have been done to swiftly remedy it. Whatever thoughts he was having, would just need to be put on hold.

I turned him gently, lifting his chin so that his face was opened to the stream of water. He cried out in pain and wrenched out of my hold, trying to retreat back into the corner. I slung my arms around his body and pulled him back against me, flinching inwardly at how compromising this could possibly be. Yutaka made a deep sound in his throat and it took me a moment to realize that he was chuckling.

"… to think… I finally get a chance… ta see you naked and it's under these… circumstances…" He giggled low and deep, the back of his head pressed against the wall of my chest, the water pounding down against the willowy arch of his neck. The dried blood liquidized and ran red trails across his chest, along the contours of his curved stomach and into the lines of his loins…

I worked Yutaka around so that we faced one another again. Using the tip of a washcloth that had been hanging from the shower rack, I gently worked damp circles over the facial injuries, removing the blood inch by bare inch. Yutaka leaned into my touch, his knees bent and body curved in against the line of my own. It was entirely possible to have become aroused by the contact established between us and I'll admit, even with my noble state of mind this was an issue to be concerned with. His vulnerability, his helplessness… the way he was now entirely dependent on me. There was something in this tragedy that had bought out an aspect of Yutaka that I had longed to find in any one of my previous relationships. My heart hurt, my heart swelled. I felt awful, I felt wonderful. Perpetually poised between Heaven and Hell. Trapped in Purgatory. The ghost of Kokakuro, Oriya Mibu. That was me and I was he. A man who was good, a man who was bad. A hundred shades of gray.

"Hey Oriya…?" I broke free of my morose thoughts and gazed down at the blond, his eyes shut against the spray of the water. "Can… can you… carry a tune?"

I raised an eyebrow, amused by the nature of this question. "Not in a wheelbarrow, I'm afraid. Why?"

"Tch. Guess no one's perfect." Yutaka chuckled lightly, bringing his hands up to clutch my upper arms, stationing his balance. "I just… just wanted ta… ta hear our song. Make me… feel better."

"Our song?" I thought back to a little over a week ago, when my knee had been injured and the two of us had been groping around in the sitting room like crazed teenagers experimenting in the basement. The radio had been playing that English song… Yutaka had confessed his fondness of it and seemed to have decided that it was to be our song. I was kind of touched by this, impetuous thought it was. "I remember how it goes… my voice is horrible though."

He rested his cheek against my chest, fingers clenching my bicep muscles respectively. "As long as it's your voice… as long as you're singing it… it's beautiful. Could ya sing it… for me? Just like we used to…"

I didn't question who 'we' was. I instead put my mind back to that night, recalling the words that we had analyzed until we were blue in the face. I hated singing under normal circumstances, which is ironic considering that one of my sisters is a famous singer. She must have inherited all the talent in our family because not a one of us besides her could sing to save ourselves. But how could I refuse after he had phrased his request in such an endearing fashion?

I cleared my throat, attention somewhat divided between the various tasks I was currently undertaking. The song was from The King and I, a Western production of some description and the opening was sung by Lun Tha; the female lead character. It was her lines that Yutaka deciphered some manner of comparison between our relationship and the song lyrics. I suppose that's why he believes this song should be our own.

I started to sing, grateful that Yutaka probably would remember little of this the next day. Honestly, I know most people can't stand the sound of their own voice but I sincerely loathe hearing myself sing. To me it was not unlike telling an awful joke in a room full of strangers and being met with an awkward silence. Supreme embarrassment.

Regardless, he wished that I would sing for him and so I did. Because it was what he wanted.

"I have dreamed that your arms are lovely,
I have dreamed what a joy you'll be.
I have dreamed every word you whisper.
When you're close,
Close to me.
How you look in the glow of evening
I have dreamed and enjoyed the view.

In these dreams I've loved you so
That by now I think I know
What it's like to be loved by you,
I will love being loved by you."

I could feel my face flushing a little and I struggled to remember the following verse but found Yutaka beating me to it. He was too weak to make a great effort in belting out the words in lyrical verse but he spoke them with tired sincerity, cheek snuggled in against my chest and arms gradually looping around my back in order to hold his body to mine.

He spoke Tuptim's part of the duet as though they were the sincere words of his heart:

"Alone and awake I've looked at the stars,
The same that smile on you;
And time and again I've thought all the things

That you were thinking too.

I have dreamed that your arms are lovely,
I have dreamed what a joy you'll be.
I have dreamed every word you whisper.
When you're close,
Close to me.
How you look in the glow of evening
I have dreamed and enjoyed the view.

In these dreams I've loved you so
That by now I think I know.
What it's like to be loved by you.

I have loved being loved by you."

I didn't join in with him during the closing lines; that would have just been too corny for words. I did mouth them however and I felt them, which I feel is more important than outward representation dictating the matter. We held each other for a while but lovely though the moment was, neither of us felt like staying there all night and soon after I returned to my task. I soaped Yutaka's body until all the blood and dirt was washed away. His face was still a swollen mess, his nose broken, eyes black and lips puffy but this could be eased with an icepack after the conclusion of the shower.

Once his body was entirely cleaned, I worked some of my shampoo and conditioner through his hair and washed out the vomit and blood that had stained his blond locks. This took a little longer because I had to be careful not to further aggravate his head injuries, in particular the gaping wound at the very crown. It was grueling but it was eventually completed and with a weary sigh, I cut off the water in the shower and lifted Yutaka out, seating him back down on the toilet seat. My own body dripped wide puddles across the tiled floor as I dried and dressed him, combing out his long hair and braiding it, so that it would not become a nuisance during the night. He remained in that same trance like state, a result of the beating, the drug and the alcohol in his system. Having come this far without pause, the nausea must have lifted its' head and sniffed the wind because one minute I was cinching up the ties of Yutaka's pajama pants and the next, he was shoving me back, falling to his knees and twisting around, ripping the toilet seat up just in time. Nothing much came out but I heard the distinct splash of liquid hitting the toilet water, indicating that there was indeed something to be flushed from his system after all. I stroked the back of his head tenderly, and then took a moment to change myself, slipping into my bed yukata and tying my own hair out of the way. I expected Yutaka to shift backward once he was done wailing his guts out but the vomiting eventually ceased and he remained slumped over the squatting toilet, head hanging so deeply into the bowl he might as well have been bobbing for – okay, that simile just went to a very bad place. Moving right along.

"Come on." I urged, gripping him under each armpit and easily lifting him to his feet. He made a pathetic attempt to wipe his mouth clean but only really managed to smack his thoroughly bruised cheek with the back of his hand. I took the liberty and siphoned the excess fluid away with a piece of toilet paper, flushing both it and the vomitus matter when I was done. Then I steered the blond towards the sink and liberally propped him into place, jamming my toothbrush into his right hand.

"Brush." I commanded, producing a tube of toothpaste and squeezing a thick worm of it onto the worn bristles. Yutaka stared at it blankly and then attempted to wedge it between his lips. Toothpaste streaked up his cheek very much reminding me of a toddler attempting to apply lipstick for the very first time. Sighing with a patience I hadn't realized I'd possessed, I reapplied the toothpaste, cleaned off his face and then guided the brush into his mouth, steering his elbow back and forth in order to get the job done. I'd had a lot of practice caring for people this way; there had been a period, shortly after the death of his family when Muraki had not felt the need to exercise self-control and it had always been my 'pleasure' to have gone out of my way to scrape his ass out of whatever curb he'd plastered himself into, whip him home and get his pasty features cleaned up. Never mind that when my Uncle had fallen ill with cancer, he'd required assistance that I had, in that particular instance, been happy to provide. So yes, I was rather used to the process by that stage, never mind those certain nights my girls might have misbehaved, or my sisters and their various misdemeanors. Thank god, I was no longer living at home and enduring a repeat of all that with my baby brother! It seems as though my purpose in life is to clean up after other people. Be it vomit or blood, you can always count on Oriya Mibu to be there with the sponge because he has no life!

Yutaka and I finally worked our way through the teeth brushing debacle and I gave mine a quick once over, though I had already done them previously. I wondered whether it would be sound to mention to the guardian that I had only been driven to his rescue by the departed image of Seki, one of the girls he was investigating and with whom he appeared to share some inexplicable bond with. I ultimately figured that it wasn't the time to be dumping anything big on the boy, especially when his brain was not up to the task of interpreting it. It would have to be a breakfast topic, if anything.

I switched off the lights in the bathroom and carried Yutaka back out into the bedroom. He snuggled deep into the blankets of the bed when I tucked him in, his still slightly damp head of hair nuzzled against the wall of pillows. He seemed content for the time being (he was clearly exhausted and in need of rest) so I snuck back out of the room and tiptoed ninja-like, down to the kitchen. I managed to unearth an old ice-cream container that would prove useful if Yutaka needed to be suddenly sick in the middle of the night and found an ice pack in the staff first-aid kit. Owing to the amount of bruising on the guardian's face, I additionally retrieved a couple of bags of frozen mixed vegetables and wrapped them up in towels, hoping that this might be enough to bring the vicious swelling down. I was just trying to decide if it would be all right to give him something for the pain, when I felt a violent tug against the membrane, alerting me to the sudden and dramatic presence of another. Giving the intruder little time to react, I spun around to face them, yanking a cutting knife from the shelf in which it was kept and leveling it with the blade facing forward, my posture crouched and body all but twitching with sudden volatile energy.

"Ye got any pickles in 'ere?"

I groaned in self-mirth the moment I heard that thick Germanic accent. Sure enough, two seconds later in sauntered Ichibana, shiny clean as though he hadn't just been handling the thoroughly desecrated dead and perched himself atop the kitchen isle, regarding me with something of a bored expression. "C'mon now, Dummkopf. Put that there pointy thang down, 'fore ya break a nail. How'sa boss doin'?"

I forced my body to relax, though it was difficult to subdue such a violent rush of adrenaline, especially after a night like this. Come to think of it… I don't think that I have properly relaxed in years. I took a deep breath and then exhaled, trying to bring my center back level. It was hard and thoroughly unattainable right then.

"You frightened at least ten years off of me, you cheeky bastard." I scolded, sliding the knife back into its slot and then retrieving the wrapped frozen produce I had dropped in my haste to confront what I thought might have been a veritable threat. "Yutaka is… well, he's looking a hell of a lot better than he was before, though just about anything could be an improvement on that. I'm just about to apply a few of these to his face, see if I can't get that swelling to come down a bit."

Ichibana waved one of his long hands dismissively. "Really ain't worth it, hun. Come morning, 'is 'ealin' ability'll kick in and those coupla bruises, cuts – no sweat. Dry up like a country dam. Just give 'im plenty 'o water ta keep 'im hydrated."

"Can I at least give him something for the pain?" I asked, not sounding at all light in the way I directed this question. The djinni considered this momentarily; arms crossed and face introspective.

"Can't see that it would 'urt." He considered, looking back up to meet my gaze and then nodded as he affirmed the decision. "Jawohl, that shouldn't cause any trouble. Coupla painkillers would go over well, like aspirin even. That targets the pain sensors of the body, don't work just fer headaches!"

"I thought I heard your voice in here…" Came a sleepy female purr from the doorway.

Ichibana and I shot a look over towards the kitchen entranceway, to see none other than Sonja, the youngest of the geisha's in my service, lounging against the wooden frame, her sleepwear yukata glancing open daringly at the chest. I was immediately compelled to go over and pull it shut, preserving her modesty but I got the feeling that I wouldn't be thanked for doing so. Of all the girls in my employ, Sonja was the one with whom I had the least rapport. She wasn't crazy about me and I certainly wasn't crazy about her. She seemed to have got it into her head that I had told one of her more provincial clients some private information that I had learnt whilst reading her, or some nonsense. Truly, the prospect of dobbing my girls in to my clients was so far removed from my interests that it was nonsensical to think that I would ever have a hand in it. "What are the two of you doing up so late?"

"Bloke stuff, fraülein y'know. Talkin' 'bout golf, cars…" Ichibana said breezily, his eyes taking appreciative glances towards the sloping cut of Sonja's gown. She smiled with pleasure as she saw the attention she was receiving and ran a hand fussily through her slightly mussed bob of red hair.

"Cars, huh? Sounds kind of boring… no offense, Mr. Mibu." She said, flashing me her dazzling white set of straight teeth. I waved a hand disinterestedly, already sound in the knowledge that my girls considered me to be a big snooze. "Why don't you come with me and we'll find something else to talk about, Mr. Bana? I'm sure we can come up with a topic or two…?"

Ichibana hopped down off of the bench and merrily skipped over to join Sonja but I pulled him back at the last second.

"She's twenty-one!" I snapped, not bothering to hide how appalled I was by the idea that not only was Ichibana quite content to accept free handouts from me but equally concerned by Sonja's strange taste. The djinni did his own tooth flashing number as Sonja proceeded on ahead towards her bedroom.

"Oi, you ain't got no right ta lecture me, meister. Yer the one bonin' a guy who's old enough ta be yer father."

I tried not to think about that too much. "You are about to become a mother… father… parent type… thing… the last thing you should be doing is having more fun-loving!"

"Nix da! Sorry man but I can't resist a redhead." Ichibana looked over and smiled at Sonja's fading back. "There's just somethin' about 'em that makes me wanna – well, open a topic!"

"Might I ask that you speak with me first." I stepped forward, blocking the djinni's exit. He looked up at me with impatient eyes. "There are questions that require answering."

He raised an eyebrow and smiled, distaste evident in his expression. "But of course. Yer curious no doubt. All ye humans have the same drive fer resolution. The same thirst ta clear the clouds of confusion. Ye can't ever rest easy until ye know and know and know. So," He shut his eyes, continuing to smile in that same tired manner I had seen in his face all night. "What is it that you wish te know, Übermensch?"

"What I want to know…? Well… to start-" I reached out and picked up his hands, holding them tightly between my own. I registered just enough strength to keep him from evading me. "That name – the name you told him – that demon. What was it again?"

"Hephaestus." The djinni said and there was no affection in his conversant. "Ye take issue with that title?"

"There was a strong reaction to it, so of course I take issue with it." I stated firmly, moving my palms to grasp his slender shoulders, keeping his attention fully directed towards me. It was impossible to read his signature patterns; my ability bounced back off of him like rubber. All I could do was judge by his physical and facial expressions. "Is Ichibana your true name? Is… your true allegiance to Yutaka? I guess my question is; can you be trusted beneath this roof?"

Ichibana smiled, his long eyelashes fluttering with unintentional diffidence and when next he spoke, his voice was entirely dissimilar to that which I had grown accustomed to. It was slight and androgynous; it echoed beneath itself as it issued from his lips. The accent entirely vanquished and no more a farce to begin with, so I wagered. "Oriya Mibu, you are one who knows not himself and yet you seek still to learn the identity of those around you. If it is so important then let it be known to you, so you can take what little comfort from it that you can." He stepped back and snapped free of my hold, his brilliantly shining eyes flickering as though a hand had passed over candlelight. "Long ago, I served as one of the four chief apostles of the Demon-God Mitkiel. My title was Hephaestus the Forger: the Dark Scourge of 1698; the name given to me by my father and I was born alone for the purpose of sharpening the Victim for his explicit purpose as Pet and Sacrifice. The demon you just met, Eurynomous, he is hardened by the centuries spent in nothing but warfare and fealty. But without hesitance, he took me in and made me his brother."

"So then… why hide behind this name Ichibana? Should it mean nothing to you?" I could not gauge his intentions. He was too well guarded; he battered away my mental probes as though they were as ineffective as swarming mosquitoes.

"Boy, do not worm your way into my mind. An Otherling is immune to the half-witted powers of the Flesh. If you desire answers than you must come upon them the old fashioned way. By request of my speech not of trickery." He reached out to me and I very nearly flinched as his fingers swept back across my forehead, his fingernail tapping slowly first once, then twice, directly between my eyes. "You are different. Just like that man, that Asato Tsuzuki. You have both been born with these great intentions."

"This is not about me." I reminded him. I guess he'd struck a nerve. I hated being reminded that I wasn't normal, though I had come to accept the reality of my situation long ago.

The djinni bowed his head. "No, of course. Forgive me." He didn't lose the smile but I accepted his manner for whatever its intentions offered, minimal as they may be. "For years I served as one of the Apostles of Mitkiel, never averting mine eyes from whatever gruesome, malign tasks were asked of my hand. I bestowed judgment by his supreme will and how I have come to regret that naïve cruelty. The stupidity that is violence. One of those victims designated to mine charge was a man named Isaac O'bana; a simple artist of the 1960's, left widowed by the plagues of Germany. An Amish man. It is his voice that you normally hear whence I speak, not this infernal tenor that is truly my own. Isaac taught me compassion; something I thought human beings not capable of. With all your wars, petty grievances and day-to-day violence, what more could I come to expect of you? And yet… it was a human who I had grown to love more dearly than any other creature I had ever known. Though I could satisfy him in no other fashion then in friendship, I knew very well that his religious principles were what kept him manacled. That he truly loved me. Through him I stood to understand the complexity of your species. It was Isaac who gave me the name Ichibana; a Japanese word he had heard from foreigners to his land. Ichibana, the flower arrangement, symbolizing unification between man, Heaven and Earth. Isaac set into play the destiny that was mine own to play out. I returned to Mitkiel and it was then centuries following my meeting with Isaac, that Mitkiel bought the boy to us."

"Who is the boy?" It was taking some time this inquisitorial. Valuable time in which Yutaka might very well have needed me but I had Ichibana at my beck in this moment and the information he was revealing might never be so freely offered again. I had to take advantage of whatever lenience he had afforded himself.

The djinni lowered his head and presented an expression that told me exactly what his following words did. "Oriya… you know. The pet of Mitkiel. How I grew to love that most precious, innocent child. How too did the others follow in my stead."

"This child… was he yours?"

Ichibana shut his eyes that tired smile wavering slightly. "He was not of my womb, no. Nor of my blood in any manner whatsoever. Regardless of this… that boy grew on me and I soon came to think of him as my little brother. I swore to him that no matter how long it would take, no matter the cost… I would free him." His expression took a sudden turn and the next thing I knew, he had his head buried three feet deep in the refrigerator. "Seriously, ye got any milk?"

I sighed impatiently. "Finish telling me your story first and then you can have all the damn milk and pickles and watermelon you want."

He looked up, eyes wide. "How about toast? With sauerkraut?"

"Sure. Sauerkraut." I said, wondering if I had any even as I promised it.

Ichibana turned back around, bumping the refrigerator door shut with his hip as he did. "The boy and I… I managed to get him all the way out. I took him to Obama and we went into hiding for a while. I was young however… I knew that I lacked the strength to effectively combat Mitkiel's legions, should he send them after me. I attempted to accelerate my magical abilities by absorbing the spiritual energy of the surrounding human souls."

"Just like Muraki." I murmured to myself. Ichibana didn't seem to hear me, because he continued on in that similar spiel.

"But the souls that I devoured only served to attract the attention of the Judgment Bureau. They deployed that Yutaka Watari." His jaw clenched tightly, I could sense his frustration. "He was hardly a field operative and I would have seen him dead by the end of the first day but the boy softened my hand and I was unable to exact the throttling I was once capable of. That infernal guardian pursued me all over Obama and finally bound me to a pentagram, casting the spell of Confinement. The boy and I were separated and for years I was bound in darkness, years was it before that blond pain in the ass trusted me enough to let me out for nighttime expeditions. But by then… it was too late. The boy couldn't take care of himself. Mitkiel's legions found him… they found him. And I no longer possessed the power to travel back and free him a second time."

I felt something hit the floor and I actually had to focus in order to see the tears rolling down the djinni's pale cheeks. He covered his mouth, stifling a sound that he must have been hiding for some time. "I've never spoken of this to anyone… I don't know what it is about you but… you bring this out in the people around you. It's as though… honesty is impossible to be withheld from you."

I stepped forward, trying to be respectful in my actions and touched my hand to the crown of the djinni's soft head of hair. He allowed my contact; he was not a prudish creature.

"This information may have been of great use to Yutaka and myself." I said, thinking that saying so was rather rhetorical. "You should have told us a long time ago."

Ichibana hung his head, swiping his hand across his face. "Many things have changed since my days of service to Mitkiel. Besides… it is not something I eagerly anticipated discussing."

He turned about and fossicked in the fridge for a moment, retrieving a thick slab of salami, a jar of pickles and rummaging up a small container of sauerkraut substitute, whatever that might be. Properly armed with his craving suppressants, the petite creature headed for the doorway, pausing just long enough to turn his gaze sidelong towards me.

"Have ye ever had children of yer own, hot stuff?"

My heart skipped a beat and I wanted to tell him to mind his own business. Yet he had been so honest with me and had asked for no remuneration in return for this honesty. I felt a duty to injure myself, just as he was so doing.

"A few years back… an old girlfriend and I got pregnant." I swallowed back a heavy lump in my throat, frightened by my own candor. "We had the baby for a month. A daughter. But she-" I was suddenly uncomfortable and fidgety, placing my hands on my hips, pressing my lips together. I really didn't want to talk about this. "-she uh… she died. SIDS."

"So you do understand what it's like to lose someone you've come to think of as your own." Ichibana nodded and I registered sincerity in his face for the first time. "I'm sorry."

I wanted to drop the subject. "It's fine. Really. It was seven years ago."

"It's never easy to lose a child. You can be separated from them by years… but you'll always love them. Always long for them. And always find a way of blaming yourself for not being able to protect them." He tapped the side of his nose knowingly and then stepped out into the hallway, clearly off in pursuit of Sonja, his snack food tucked under one arm. "Look… don't mind me, handsome. I'm just ramblin'. Ye'd best go check on the boss. Got a feelin' e's gonna be needin' ya a lot more in the next coupla days. I'll talk ta 'im in the mornin'. Tell 'im what I know. K?"

I left it at that, too tired to pursue the subject any further and lacking the incentive to properly stage an argument against this ridiculous union between a horny pregnant djinni and a horny, probably soon to be pregnant geisha. I left them to whatever tiresome games they were bound to end up playing and rustled up a pack of aspirin, filled a jug of water and carried both it and an empty glass back up to my bedroom. Yutaka was sitting up in bed, his bleary eyes darting all across the room in an attempt to locate me. He exclaimed gratefully when I reentered, sliding the door shut behind me with my butt.

"I thought you'd left me!" He said in that same raspy voice that just broke my heart to be witness to. I shook my head, discouraging his fears and opened the aspirin packet, slipping two out of the silver foil and handing them to him. Yutaka managed to shove the small white pills into his mouth whilst I filled the glass and then assisted him in negotiating the water to his lips. He smiled gratefully at me once they were down.

"Thankyou." Was his simple yet meaningful reply. I was touched by it, nonetheless.

I put the bucket down next to the bed, making sure Yutaka knew where it was. After drinking some more water, he seemed ready to settle and I sat by his side for a while as he snuggled down into the blankets, groaning softly every now and again, clearly discomforted.

"I'll let you get some rest." I told him as I climbed to my feet, fully intending on sleeping in one of the spare rooms in order to afford Yutaka a little privacy in such a vulnerable state. But before I could get my buttocks partially off of the sheets, the blond halted my progress by snagging hold of my yukata sleeve, his swollen eyes staring up at me imploringly.

"No, Mr. Oriya…" He begged, unable to even lift his head from the soft pillows. He really was sick, to be rendered to such a weak state, unable to govern even minimalist control of his body. "… please… please stay with me… I don't wanna be alone… and I'm so cold…"

It wasn't as though I could ignore his request when he said it like that, now could I? Besides, I was weary and yearning for my own comfortable bed, with its designer mattress that would keep my old spinal injury from flaring up during the night. So it didn't take much convincing for me to give in. I climbed in from the other side and allowed myself just the smallest luxury in twining my arm about Yutaka's waspy waist. It was quite warm there, all curled up tight and close to one another, with all the potential of an intimacy I had searched for my entire life. If only this could have fallen under more positive circumstances! If only I could have enjoyed this without feeling as though I were taking advantage of it!

"Thankyou…" I heard Yutaka whisper and my fondness of him beat in the bounds of my chest, like a caged butterfly. "I've… really embarrassed myself, haven't I?"

"Oh, don't worry about that." I assured him, though secretly thinking that he was in for quite a lecture when he was feeling better. "Happens to all of us sometimes."

He let out a small choking sob, the sound mostly muffled by the pillow. "It should only happen sometimes! It's been happening to me my whole life! My whole life! I'm pathetic!"

"Shhh… don't say that." I said in my most soothing voice, running my fingers down the side of his scraped cheek. "You're not pathetic."

He continued to sob in a quiet, defeatist sort of way. "Yes I… AM! You said it yourself, that I treat myself as though I'm worth nothing!" He sniffed, his breath sucking back into his throat in that heart breaking sound one makes when they are in severe emotional turmoil. "I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…"

I had nothing articulate to respond to this with, so I did only what I felt that he needed. I shushed him gently with my voice, hoping the temperate susurration would calm his fevered whimpers and lay my lips against the side of his face, wishing that my kisses were able to heal his wounds as easily as his own were capable of healing mine. I closed what tiny space remained between our bodies and brought him in tightly against me, holding him with the gentle sincerity of my affection. It took a while but eventually Yutaka was able to calm down. He lay there, cheek resting in the crook of my arm (that was starting to go gray beneath his weight, I might casually mention) and simply enjoyed my ministrations; my hand stroking the side of his face, occasionally running back across his still damp hair. I thought now he was calm, he might adhere to my words and whispered directly downward into the delicate curve of his ear.

"Yutaka… you must not beat yourself up over this. God knows, there's not a great deal left to beat! And what's left of you that is still intact, is certainly not worth punishing. People make mistakes; it's a fact of life, cher. Just let it be a lesson to you. To be more observant of your surroundings from now on."

He was falling asleep, thank God. I could hear his breaths evening out, indicating that slumber was not too far off. But he still wanted to talk; he still wanted to fight his right for justification.

"I'm tired of making mistakes…" He said, voice groggy with imminent unconsciousness. "Sometimes… sometimes it seems as though nearly everything I've done… has been a mistake…"

I could feel my patience wearing just that little bit thin. "Oh, stop being so melodramatic." I scolded. He needed to be confronted with the reality of the situation and it was not going to work if he simply continued to feel sorry for himself. Self-indulgence was fine in moderation but people need to be told when it is best to restrain themselves, or it becomes an easy, comfortable addiction. A simple method of salving ones wounds when facing the outside world became too difficult. "What is it that is making you so miserable? I took you for a happy guy and ever since you've turned up, you've done nothing but cry."

He was silent for some time but when next he spoke, the tears and self-pity were mercifully gone from his voice. "I'm sorry… you're absolutely right. I've indulged myself for far too long with this petty behaviour." I sensed his eyes fluttering shut and I wondered again why it was that he would not wear contacts instead of glasses, especially considering how beautiful his eyes were. "It's not you though… you're so nice to me, even when I've caused you nothing but trouble." He chuckled a little at this, so that I would know he was no longer dragging his face through the mud.

I ran my hand back across his face. "It has been my pleasure, having you here Yutaka. Kindness is something that every man deserves, on account of it being a mans duty to offer it. Why on earth would you presume that you should be exempt from your god given right to be treated with compassion?" I ran my fingers underneath his chin, caressing the indent there, wincing at the split upon his lips, already scabbing over.

His voice issued low from beneath my fingers. I felt the words as much as heard them.

"I was… bad."

"Bad?" I repeated, my fingers still stroking the shape of his chin. It was prompt enough for him to continue apparently.

"When I was a boy… I wasn't any better. It was… always my fault. I was always… asking for it… I brought it on myself."

My heart seized in my chest. Something in there was trying to claw its' way out. "What did you bring on yourself?" I spoke like a bad drama actor, giving into the situation.

Yutaka's eyes snapped open. To me, they rang clear like the shutter of a camera. A camera, reflecting back on past negatives, dark images captured forever on the shroud of reel that spooled through its memory and encompassed the reality once caught in the light before it.

"I was bad… that's why it happened. That's why he was looking at me… why he tried to be alone with us… me and Reiku…"

"Who's Reiku?" I asked, losing sense of what we were collectively witnessing for a moment.

"My sister…" Yutaka said, after a drowsy moment of hesitation. There was a shifting beneath the sheets and I realized that he was drawing his legs up tight against his body, as though trying to protect himself from something. His hands started fussing with his hair, pulling it about his face. "We uh… we had this neighbor; Okiko Haruhi, an old friend of the family. Known my folks since they was all teenagers, family history and all that. We was living in Osaka at the time… all eleven of us. Told ya I had nine siblings, right? Reiku was the oldest. She was real pretty. Blond, tall, leggy. Bit too shy to ever be really outgoing with the boys but she got plenty of looks, I can tell ya that! Unfortunately, she got 'em from this guy livin' next door to us, too. He was our… our Godfather. We grew up with him. He babysat us from time to time, always-extra special nice to Reiku and I. I was a real cute kid. Grew out of it, unfortunately but I was quite a good looking tot!" His voice was speeding up and he was running across his words, as though he had ripped open the floodgate and now he couldn't stop what was coming out. "One day my family… went to visit our Grandparents, here in Kyoto. I was entered in a big Science Comp at my primary school… gosh; I was only eight at the time… so I wanted to stay. To think, if I had only gone with 'em, I woulda been okay! Reiku was sixteen and so they said she should stay home with me and they'd get Mr. Haruhi to watch out for us. The day after they'd left, I came home from school and I heard this funny noise in the lounge-room. I looked in and… and it was…"

Suddenly, he clapped his hands over his mouth and shoved his face down into the pillow, a muffled scream, laced with years of frustration filtered out from either side of the makeshift buffer. I lay my hand on the back of his neck, trying to keep it from shaking along with his body. Alas, I knew it could not be helped. I could feel my own body fribulating with anger… and recognition.

Yutaka trembled beneath my touch but his hand found mine and held it tight, this giving him the strength to continue it would seem. He found his voice again but he spoke with great reluctance of this devastating event.

"I'm not supposed to speak about it… that sort of thing happened a lot in those days. It was the fifties, y'know? So we never spoke about it. It was not the done thing. But I… how could I ignore it? My sister… she thought that by giving herself to him, by letting him touch her… that he would be satisfied enough to leave the rest of us alone. She was so selfless… god how I loved her for that. But never mind what she hoped to accomplish. I had uncovered their arrangement. I remember Reiku telling me to run… 'just run Yutaka' she had screamed at me but I didn't understand what was going on. I was so young… and scared. I was sure it was wrong for him to have been… touching her that way but I figured that maybe I had misinterpreted the scenario somehow and so I stupidly stuck around to hear the explanation."

I felt something moving in rhythm beneath the flesh of my temple and knew that pure and simple anger was taking over my body. Blind rage rushed though me, a cold sensation, rather than a heated fury flushing through my veins.

"What happened to you?" I asked, though perhaps I need not have bothered with the verification at all. I had not forgotten those marks I had found upon his hips. The fingernails that had drawn him backwards as he had attempted to pull himself free from something… something that had made the lower portion of his body ache unbearably…

Yutaka snorted disdainfully. "Can't you guess? Reiku she… she tried to hold him back but he locked her away in the hall closet. That man he… he took me into the kitchen and turned on the tap, filling the sink with scalding water. He held my face over it… said if I struggled, or screamed for help or refused to do whatever he said at any time, he would dunk my face down into the water and hold it there while he went about his business. He said… he said that all the flesh of my face would melt off and that my eyeballs would cook like eggs. He-he cut my clothes away using a cleaver – he held it behind my ear and told me… if I flinched, he'd peel the skin from my face like an orange. Oriya… I was so afraid… what else could I do but what he asked?"

"Yutaka…" I whispered and heard my voice turn to water.

"It was those eyes…" He said, shuddering in my hold and sinking his back in tight against my chest as though I might have protected him from the past I had no control over. "I was scared… I can't even imagine what it had been like for Reiku, keeping quiet and satisfying him for all those years, just so he would never touch us. But he got me… he wanted me because she was becoming too old for him and I was a boy and so young. He said… he said it was my fault that he desired me… because whenever I was out playing with my brothers and sisters…" He tilted his head back and I brushed my fingers down his face, feeling the waves of tears coursing across his tattered flesh. "I-I…I was wearing shorts… and a t-shirt…"

"That's bullshit…"

" 'You tempt me with that flesh.' I won't ever forget those words. I showed off my skin and tempted him, so that gave him the right to fuck with me because I asked for it!"

"That's bullshit and you know it, Yutaka!" I grabbed him tight about his body and pulled him against me, sinking my face into his hair and stifling the maddening scream that rose in my chest like a wounded snake preparing to strike. I was filled with such an overwhelming hatred, such oblique disgust to a degree of intensity that it was almost divine. I wanted to tear out into the night with any number of my swords, find the man who had done this unthinkable sin and cause him the kind of suffering that I had originally thought Muraki only capable of exacting. Oh no… the hand that falls upon children is the hand that offers its fingers to the knife. There was not a decent human being alive that would not murder those that have harmed innocent children.

"Yutaka…" I breathed, bringing my hand down to caress his forehead, my lips pressing down into the damp crown of his head over and over again. "Oh cher… how awful… how dreadfully awful."

The guardians' fingers stroked down along my arms, his nails tickling the fine hair. There was still somewhat more to be said, it would seem.

"Mr. Haruhi… knew that his little game was over so… he took Reiku and I next door and… hid us in his basement… a room with no doors and no windows, buried beneath the earth, where he could practice his aberrant sexual fantasies uninterrupted by the outside world. He never actually … ah, screwed me after that time in the kitchen. He tried just about everything else after that. He grew bored with Reiku and kept her around mostly because she knew his secret. He kept us tied to individual posts of the bed with belts around our neck and the pole itself. Just like dogs. It's why I'm a bit… y'know, iffy 'bout folks touchin' my throat. I often wear turtlenecks because they make me feel a little more protected, right?"

I wanted to bundle him up and hide him away from the world. Dear god in Heaven, the things that this man had suffered!

"How long did it last?" I asked, reluctant to hear more but wanting to know everything, if he would let me.

"Only a fortnight. Mr. Haruhi… he… one day he came down into the basement and he wanted to see Reiku and I… well, screweach other. I wasn't even capable of that sort of thing! I was eight for gods' sake! He tried to make us do it but we put up a fight and he shoved me back into this old grandfather clock he kept in the corner. The glass on the casing broke and I just managed to grab a hold of this one big shard. I got him with it… I went straight for his groin. Gave me and Reiku plenty of time to climb up out of the basement and run next door."

"And what of that man?" I asked through gritted teeth. I felt Yutaka shiver in my arms.

"He… he wasn't there when the police went a'knockin'. Somehow, he managed to slip away. I think that little injury I did him might've slowed him down chasing the five year olds though." He laughed sadly, his hands clenching tightly around my own. "I don't know how he did it but he wasn't ever caught by the police. He escaped… he left Reiku and I… we had a few years of counseling but in those days, it was just one of those things you were meant to forget about, y'know? People expected us ta just… get over it and be strong. They eventually got angry if we were havin' bad days."

"Like you could just get over it." I growled, angry with these nameless, faceless people.

"My Mama… she blamed herself for it. A woman she knew quite well had warned her that Mr. Haruhi had messed about with her own daughter and that he was not to be trusted but Mama didn't believe her. After what happened to us though… her guilt just got the better of her. She got sick… cried all the time… Before this happened she and I were so much alike. She was such a vivacious, upbeat, strong woman. It was unusual to see her without a smile but after that incident… it was almost like she grew tired of life. We just watched her fade away and day-by-day, there was another little piece of her gone. She lived until I was in my twenties but she hadn't been herself for years before that. And I missed her… my Papa, he tried his best but he worked out of town a lot, supporting our huge family and he couldn't always be there for us. So… us children just learned to be self-sufficient from very early on. Reiku and I… I don't think they meant it but the rest of our siblings sort of shunted us after the incident. They thought there was something terribly wrong with us and figured that steering clear was the normal way to behave. It was pretty lonely. Reiku fled the scene as soon as she reached 19. She eloped with her boyfriend at the time and ran off into the night, leaving me with only words of promise that we would see each other again. Years later, when I was 18 I met Tamiko… and I don't doubt for a second that it was she who rescued me. I would have died a much younger man if she hadn't found me. And tonight… god to think of what would have become of me should you have not shown up." With a pained groan, the guardian managed to twist himself around, facing me in the darkness. We were so close; I could feel his warm breath against my cheek. "I'm such a freakin' damsel in distress… but still… thankyou, Oriya. From the bottom of my heart, thankyou. I owe you my sanctity and that is greater still then my existence."

I felt a warm, wet sensation press against my mouth and realized that he was kissing me. Purely chaste, I returned the gesture only in a compassionate formality, surprised that I was even able to unclench my jaw enough for this act. I was so angry… and so disturbed that such demented people actually existed. Yutaka Watari… he was a truly gentle soul. How could anyone have done something this deplorable to him? When he had been so young… Jesus, no wonder he had been terrified that night. Those men were bare seconds away from reenacting that disgusting defilement that should never have occurred in the first place, let alone been reproduced. And one week ago, when he had rejected my continued advances within the sitting room… now I finally understood his severe reaction. A child… his face scant inches from boiling water and the blade of a cleaver being pressed against the back of his ear, ghastly threats whispered into it all the while. He must have been so scared… tonight… and then.

I gently prized my lips from his, bringing my hand up to cup the shape of his cheek, fishing the strands of hair that always seemed to hang loose about his face, back behind his ear.

"Okiko Haruhi, right?" I asked, holding my voice as steady as possible. Yutaka didn't register the implications of what his affirmation might have meant. For someone as well connected as myself to know ones name, was a very severe state of affairs indeed. It was the sort of situation that would have sent informed individuals rustling for their plane tickets to Acapulco. The blond managed a small murmuring confirmation and rolled over, curling himself up into a protective cocoon, spooning his right arm about his pillow, keeping the other clutched firmly about my own.

"I'm really tired Oriya… and I don't feel well." He tugged the blankets up closer to his chin and hunkered down as deeply as possible. " Can I go to sleep now? Please?"

I gazed upon him with sympathetic eyes and an affectionate heart. That he would think it necessary to ask! I brushed back his bangs, bringing that same hand forward to stroke the side of his face. The wounds there were already scabbing beneath my fingers.

"Of course. I'll be right here if you should need me during the night."

I felt his eyes snap open. I guess he was surprised that I had allowed the annulment of our conversation. Did I really come off as being such a hard-ass?

"You mean… you'll stay with me?" His voice was incredulous, as though he doubted the sincerity of my words. I felt his fingers fall down over mine, just acknowledging the touch of my hand about his waist. "Just like this?"

I wasn't quite sure what he was getting at here but his posture and tone gave me just enough information to interpret his meaning. What he meant to say was, 'He doesn't want anything more from me? Even when I couldn't do a thing to stop him in this state, he's just content to go to sleep?'

I smiled, leaning down to press my mouth against his temple. "Don't expect from me, what you have received from others. This is what I had intended all along, remember? Looks like we ended up together in my bed after all." I petted his head gently. "I'll stick around. You just go to sleep now. Everything will be all right in the morning. You'll see."

Yutaka was stunned. I could tell by the short silence, the registered widening of his eyes and the slight stiffening of his legs beneath the sheets. Perhaps I was the first of his prospective lovers to have shared a bed with him and expected nothing more from the situation then to simply fall asleep by the side of one another. This possibility depressed me, that Yutaka might have interpreted all men's motives to have been so shallow.

"I love you…" He whispered.

My heart sped up but I forced it to slow back down, understanding full well that Yutaka was simply overcome by his ordeal that night and didn't comprehend the severity of those words. It was too soon for him to have feelings of such an extreme nature. I allowed myself only a small smile in reverence and pressed his head down to rest softly against the pillow.

"Sleep…" I prompted, laying my own weary head down and conceding at long last to bring my sleepy eyes to a close. The night was very quiet. A cicada chirped. The river that framed Kokakuro's boundaries trickled in the distance. It was a beautiful moment. A beautiful scene, caught betwixt of the most disastrous, heartbreaking and horrifying past events and future possibilities, be they good or equally painful.

I felt Yutaka close his eyes at last. His voice fluttered out once more before grateful sleep claimed him.

"I really do… I really do love you… Oriya."

Okiko Haruhi.

By morning, a few of my more disreputable acquaintances would have learnt his name.

And for once, I was sincerely remorseful that I could no longer call on Muraki for that favor.

Okiko Haruhi.

I hoped for his sake that he was already dead.

EC –

NaPap: Man, I am FRIGGIN awesome!

Tatsumi: No you are not! Shut up!

NaPap: Excuse me! You don't get to offer your opinion of me, Tightwad. You are only the money muse. So get cracking and make me some more money! Mama wants to buy a new pair of ankle boots!

Tatsumi: (Grumbles and returns to finance table, sporting one of those weird visor numbers) This would be so much easier if you hadn't crashed your car…

Watari: Eh?! NaPap! You crashed your car?!

Muraki: I see you're still walking. Do a better job next time, eh?

NaPap: Okay, now that's just hurtful!

Tsuzuki: Well you might as well be a paraplegic. It's not as though you move around much…

NaPap: Hey! I do a lot of shopping and dog walking! How would I do any of that in a wheelchair?

Oriya: Lots of people manage just fine. I had to get about in a wheelchair when I broke my back. I was in wheels for a little over a year. I should have been there for the rest of my life but I miraculously got better.

Tsuzuki: How did you miraculously get better?

Oriya: … Don't ask questions! It ruins the plot!

Tsuzuki: There is no plot! What the hell is going on in this thing!?

NaPap: That's for me to know and for you to suffer through, Chastity Boy.

Tsuzuki: You! Shut your big Southern yap!

Saki: Come on, NaPap! Chop chop! Get the next chapter up! (Sighs happily) Finally, I get to be portrayed in a positive light!

NaPap: Now you're giving away the plot! Stop it! Stop it all of you!

Muraki: Was that 'chop chop' thing supposed to be cleaver?

All: …

Muraki: I meant… clever. (Places fingers on chin and looks mysterious) Or did I?

NaPap: … You've been reading my classified files again, haven't you?! Damn that magical eye of yours!

Oriya: I'm still trying to figure out how Saki changed from a floating disembodied head into a real boy.

Watari: Maybe it was a wizard. Or the blue fairy.

Tsuzuki: … Muraki's the blue fairy?

Oriya: Wouldn't surprise me.

Muraki: Oh, you keep that up. Make it easy for yourself.

Saki: Being a floating disembodied head is very slimming. It's all the rage in Hollywood these days. Now that being a size 0 is actually obtainable, the starlets and aiming large and stripping kilos off by removing their bodies completely!

Muraki: … That… is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard of. And I'm the guy who was going to bring my brother back to life by sticking his head back on Mr. Tsuzuki's body, so that should tell you something about the stupidity of that little article!

Watari: Hey, I gotta question!

Tatsumi: Shoot.

NaPap: Excuse me! I'm the boss of this fanfic! ME boss! YOU money muse! Now, what do ya want annoying little blond haired main character?

Watari: … Eh… what I want to know is… was there any point in that Kenyle guy cracking onto me in the earlier chapter?

NaPap: Apart from earning me a flame that I favor you too much, not really. I totally wanted that flame, after all. I was totally asking it by being so nice to you.

Watari: … You're a total cow to me!

NaPap: EXACTLY.

Tsuzuki: Why do you care about that anyway, Watari?

Watari: Oh, no reason.

Tsuzuki: … You totally want him don't you?

Watari: I want everyone. On principle. I am a nerdy ho. I never really expressed it in the manga or anime but I am. Take that Matsushita! NaPap is totally going to redesign my character, even though I don't belong to her at all!

NaPap: … You totally could you know. I'm just far too polite to urinate on your leg.

Tsuzuki: Oh gross.

Oriya: Yutaka, if you really want to date that Kenyle fellow, that's totally fine with me.

Watari: Really?!

Oriya: Sure. We haven't made any great declamations of our relationship yet. We should feel free to date other people too. That's why I'm going to start seeing someone on the side too.

Watari: … Like who?

Oriya: Well, let's see… who am I normally paired up with? (Looks at checklist) I could date that Hisoka chap… or Muraki… or Tsuzuki… or even the Tightwad over there.

Tatsumi: …

Watari: No way! They're all my alternative pairings too, buddy!

Oriya: Or I could date Ukyou… oh wait, she's my cousin. …

Watari: So that means I could date her!

Tsuzuki: Hisoka should date her.

Muraki: No one is dating Ukyou! She is my ex-fiancée and only I get to decide who I'm going to give her away to!

Saki: She was supposed to be with me… you know, before the whole dying debacle got in the way…

Muraki: You're definitely out! (Thinks) She can date my new best friend; The Count.

Count: Goodie!

Oriya: I lose out to this guy?

Watari: Ah, never mind, honey. I guess I'll give Kenyle a miss and just stick with you, for the time being. (Huggles Oriya's arm)

Oriya: Gee, thanks a bunch.

NaPap: Well,

NaPap: Well, I was going to go a special reviewer reviews section to commemorate my return to DA but the damn chapters too long to upload with them! Besides, I'd probably be kicked off if I posted them… so I'll just send the individual responses to my reviewers!

Tsuzuki: One at a time? Man that's going to take forever!

NaPap: It's worth it. But it will take a while longer to get them to you reviewers, because I've been so busy with the chapters! But thankyou for all your kind words and all the reviews and I promise to get the responses to your reviews for the last three chapters out to you as soon as humanely possible! Well, hope you enjoyed the new chapter everyone! Muraki's addition will be up soon, so please R and R until next time when I hope you can join me again! (Passes out from sleep deprivation)

All: …