[edited this chapter only slightly. i sorta restructured the Kurosaki family, and added Rui
instead of Nagare. it was only a slight change, since I still have tons of homework. sats next month, i won't be able to work on this for a very very long time. and if i don't rewrite this part, i'll never be able to move on. honto ni gomennasi! these editions were really rough, but... *sigh* burn down my school and i'll wordship you]
Standard disclaimers apply.
-------------------------------
Erosion - chapter 3
by rubie
-------------------------------
Light filtered through the rice papered windows lazily, wisps sneaking past the small cracks in the wooden frame. One settled comfortably just over my right eye, and I frowned in protest. I opened my eyes reluctantly, dimly wondering why I was sleeping face down on the floor. My arms were tangled uncomfortably in a blanket that I didn't remember claiming. The bed was empty but made, shadowed in the far corner.
There was a vague nagging thought that something was missing.
A sluggish racking-through of last night's memories sent a realization crashing through my senses. I sat up quickly, wincing when my back cracked audibly.
Where was the boy?
The caviling thought twisted into ice that settled deep in my stomach.
I hauled myself to my feet, almost tripping over the blanket in the process. The door flew opened with a loud creak, and I scanned the open halls. There was a nagging dread that last nights events was all a confused dream. But I was sure that the boy existed, or was my mind playing tricks on me after almost two weeks of searching?
"Tsuzuki-san!"
The startled voice made me jump before my mind registered the speaker.
"Miya-chan," I whispered with some hesitation. Pale and trembling, she swayed slightly as she stood, watching me with weary eyes. Something was wrong. Did she realize I met the boy last night? But before I could question her, she suddenly burst into tears.
"Miya-chan?" I asked, startled. "Is something wrong?" I bent to offer her some comfort, but her hand shot out and clung to mine tightly.
"Hisoka-sama is ill! And he refuses to see anyone!" she looked at me, eyes imploring. "Doctor, you have to help him!"
"What?" surprised, I could only stare. Miya had tried so hard the last few weeks to keep me from the boy, why was she suddenly encouraging me?
"Master isn't home right now. Hisoka-sama doesn't let anyone come to his room, and wouldn't even touch the food. Kasane wants you to help him, but I don't think Master would allow it. But if Hisoka-sama dies..." Miya's was beginning to sound hysterical, and she spoke as if she wasn't even aware of her words. "Master'll never forgive us. Ever..."
"Where is he?" I asked firmly, giving her hand a squeeze as reassurance. "Hisoka, where is he?"
***
"It's this room, Tsuzuki-san," Miya whispered softly, her voice trembling as she parted the doors. I glanced at the deserted hallway uneasily.
"There are nobody here," I observed.
"No, Hisoka-sama...," Miya's voice drifted. "People don't stay close," she finally admitted, and before I could respond, retreated.
"You are not coming?" I asked, worried, but she was already gone.
Alone, a strange sense of dread settled over me. I knew next to nothing about illnesses. I could picture my treatment for Hisoka, prescribing him multipurpose tylenol. My cover would be blown in an instant. How did Tatsumi and Konoe talk me into accepting this assignment? I grinned my teeth in annoyance. But the door was already open; gathering up my courage, I stepped in.
And shivered.
A heavy blanket of ice settled over my chest painfully. I almost gagged, covering my mouth to muffle coughs. Shadows licked at the walls of the room, entwining itself lightly but firmly over my legs, brushing past the skin. Darkness claimed the body that lay in the far corner, encircling him almost possessively. There was an aura of evil around the boy, so strong that I wondered why I never felt it before.
"Hisoka?" the words left my mouth before I remembered the formalities.
There was no response, but I could hear distant sounds of shallow breathing. I began to approach the still form, disturbed by the silence.
"Get out." the voice was soft but firm, and carried a sense of stubborn authority. I stilled.
"What?"
"Get out!" Hisoka hissed louder as he struggled to sit up. I could barely make out his silhouette against the dark walls.
I refused to budge, fixing my eyes firmly on his face in defiance. The boy seemed to consider in silence, before picking up his pillow to fling it. It landed several feet short, and the boy slumped forward, gasping from the exertion. I fingered the ofuda in my pocket silently, watching as thin shoulders heaved, trembling. I could kill him right now, and put him out of his misery. I could free him from this icy household, where everything was a mask of lies. Then I could go home, leave this maze behind. But...
The boy's jade eyes suddenly fixed on me accusingly. I froze.
"Miya-chan told me you were very sick," I stuttered. "She wanted to see if I could help."
The boy didn't respond. I retrieved the pillow by my feet, and approached him slowly.
"But you look better now. How are you feeling?"
Hisoka was silent at first. "My caretaker resigned. And Miya-san is afraid of me," he said finally, eyes distant as if talking to himself, then turned to glare at me angrily. "You can't help me."
"We'll see," I smiled at him reassuringly.
"I'm feeling better," he mumbled, looking away.
I smiled broadly, purposely ignoring the hidden message of his statement. I knew he wanted me to leave. The boy was alone; servants feared being around him, his own caretaker deserted him, his parents never seemed to visit him. I wasn't going to leave easily.
"I'm sorry about last night," I said, settling next to his futon. Hisoka shifted away immediately. "You know, I hit your head against the wall when I tried to turn on the light," I grinned sheepishly. "Does it hurt?"
I touched his head lightly, but he reeled back as if struck. I blinked in surprise as he glared at me with cold eyes.
"No," he finally said.
"Really? I'm really sorry though." I stole a glance at the frail figure, leaning stiffly against the wall. Why was everyone so frightened of him? He was only a young boy; they were being unreasonable. "You go into that room every night, don't you?" I asked him carefully. "What do you do?"
"It's peaceful there," he whispered.
"You don't like company?" I glanced at the boy again, but he turned away, facing the wall.
"No." His words was soft, but I knew they were a dismissal.
I chose to be oblivious though, shrugging off his words carelessly. "Hey, what happened this morning?" I asked, "What happened to make Miya-chan come crying to me at five in the morning?"
The boy didn't respond. He continued to stare at the wall, eyes framed with thick lashes large in the still dim room. His body was tense under the blankets, as if my very presence upsetted him, but I stubbornly waited for an answer. I had been waiting almost two weeks to meet him, and I wasn't going to give up this chance easily.
Finally, he sighed in defeat. "Nothing," he said with the tone of finality.
And then he was silent again, settling deeper in the thick blankets that seemed cold despite their appearance. Unlike his mother and Kasane's kimono, the sheets were stark white, lined with an intricate red embordery that must have caused their maker much pain. But somehow, it didn't seem to fit him; they clashed with his jade green eyes and pale skin like a lonely flame in snow.
"I'm not going to leave, if that was what you're wondering," I said softly, unmoving.
The figure tensed in anger, turning to fix me with a harsh glare. "You...," he hissed, green eyes burning. But I sat unflinchingly, watching him carefully. Hisoka trailed off, turning to stare back at the wall. "I had a dream," he said with a sigh.
"What sort of dream?"
My words seem to freeze him, and the eyes he turned back at me were filled with a coldness that I remember mirrored in Nagare's eyes. "That doesn't concern you," he said, voice firm with authority.
My throat was suddenly dry, and I stared at Hisoka in frozen shock. The boyish youth and innocence that he carried, despite his stubborn anger, was suddenly lost in an instant. Dimly, I wondered what his family had done to him, to make him a mirror of his father. Was Nagare like this as a boy? If it was, I had severely wronged him.
Hisoka drew a sharp breath, his body rigid. His jade eyes were wide in shock or surprise I didn't know, and for a moment, I thought he was suffering from another attack of his mysterious illness. But then he struggled to sit up, keeping the covers wraped tightly over his body. I reached out to help him, steading him against my arm, but he pushed me away with surprising force.
The sliding doors suddenly flew open with a breath of frosty wind, and Rui stood behind them, regarding us silently.
"What are you doing here?" Rui asked carefully, each word falling like ice on marble.
"I was called," I said, meeting her eyes unwaveringly. She wasn't my master; I could care less what she thought of me. "That is what I was called here for, isn't it?"
Rui shifted her gaze almost apathetically. Instead, she looked to her son, eyes bearing silent threats. But Hisoka was silent. Instead, he sat stiffly from his position at the bed, staring at his mother with a barely concealed anger in his eyes.
"You didn't tell me a doctor came," the boy whispered.
What?
"You didn't tell him?" I asked. "I was sent here to treat him, and you didn't tell him a doctor was even here?"
My words sounded strangely accusing. Rui turned to me with an irritated scowl. With firm strides, she walked towards us and called down the hall.
"Miya-san, please take the doctor to his room."
"No, wait," I said quickly. Hisoka turned to fixed me with a glare, but didn't protest. My grin only widened.
It was time to be more assertive.
"I would like to eat breakfast with my patient."
***
Nothing was right. Nothing was ever right here.
Silence settled in the dinning room of the late winter morning heavily, and each breath of air felt like a mouth full of icy water, constricting the lungs and choking the throat. Not a bird's scream echoed from the mountains in the distance. Even the sun seemed frozen, the shafts of light that filtered through the trees were stiff and incompliant. Only the sakura dared to whisper, dragging whisps of snow through the sliding doors that parted to welcome them.
No one spoke. Rui seemed to be seething inside, despite her firm hold on her expressions. And the boy still avoided his food, staring at the woven mats as if they were the only things truly existent. I opened my mouth, then thought better of it. Everything just felt... wrong, as if the walls were echoing an inner rage. Sitting in this room was like sitting on the parterre of an ancient temple, beside columns eroding from the harshness of time.
Perhaps asking to eat breakfast with Hisoka was a bad idea. I should have known his mother would insist to eat with us. The boy no doubt would be happier in his room, in the warmth of his own bed, doing what he wished to do. Forcing him to sit with us like this was cruel; he looked ready to crumble and collapse into a heap of white robes with red embroideries.
"Eat," Rui said.
In the frozen morning, her voice was shattering. Her words were obviously meant for Hisoka; he didn't respond, and continued to stare as if there were no one in the room. Were the two like this every time they were together? A mother and son, addressing each other like strangers. Rui spoke to his child harshly with a commanding and apathetic tone. And Hisoka's painfully neutral expressions spoke of careful self-control. Living in such a could household must have grinded him into submission. But he must have been so bitter inside...
I should really say something.
"If you don't like the food, I can get you something when I go to the village later," I offered.
The boy didn't respond to my words, but gripped the wooden bowl with both hands mechanically. For I moment, I thought he would hurl it at me, by the way his hands shook with either anger or fatigue and his eyes glazed. But he began to eat, carefully but obviously not enjoying his meal. His face contorted, as if each bite was disgusting and distasteful. He crammed the food in his mouth, and when they refused to be chewed or swallowed, washed it down with water. It looked more like an act of frustration rather than hunger. I wondered what I said wrong.
I searched my mind for something else to say. "Are you cold, Hisoka? You look really pale."
The two looked at me in surprise, and I wondered if I said something wrong by using a too intimate form of his name. I wasn't sure why I did, but calling him by anything else seemed unfitting.
"No," he finally whispered.
"The house is really cold in the winter. You should install a heater here."
"No," he repeated.
"Are you tired? You look tired."
"No."
I chewed my chopsticks in frustration. Rui wasn't even trying to pretend to eat anymore, watching me through silent eyes. It would be nice if she would leave. Her silent threats were becoming annoying, and her efforts to keep the buried tensions within the household hidden were painfully obvious. But I was here as a doctor for his child; private issues did not concern me. Why did she perceive me as such a threat?
"I was quite surprised to see you, Hisoka. By the way everyone spoke about you, I thought you were a myth," I admitted. I knew I had willingly angered Rui, but I didn't care.
Rui stood up in one swift fluid movement, and the floor boards protested as she walked stiffly out. If that was meant to intimidate me, she had failed. But Hisoka remained unmoving, staring past as if nothing had happened.
I chewed my lip, attempting to find a way to break the cold tension that lingered between us. "It looks like its going to be a nice day outside. Do you usually go out?"
"No."
"Does anyone take you outside sometimes?"
"No."
"Would you like to come with me to town today?"
"No."
I grimaced. This conversation was going nowhere. I dimly wondered why he even chose to stay in the room, considering how my attempts at a conversation had progressed. I had expected him to be more talkative after his mothing left the room, after the absence of the seemingly impenetrateable barbed wire. His frustration towards Rui was rather obvious, however suppressed it may be to him. "You don't like your mother?" I asked softly, and immediately regretted it. It was a sensitive subject, and we were not intimate. I had no right to ask him such question, but the words escaped before I could stop myself. "I'm sorry," I said quickly in an attempt to correct myself.
Hisoka paled, or rather it was only the light. It was impossible to tell. But he made no attempt to answer. Sakura renewed its efforts to paint the floors with that bloody pink. The dull silence became an incessant buzz.
A failing bird screamed in the distance as the wooden bowls crashed to the floor. Hisoka tripped over his food tray and stumbled on unsteady feet to the courtyard. The ice cracked and splintered as his bare feet met the earth. He fell to his knees, then retched in the garden.
***
"He's bulimic?" Tatsumi's voice sounded incredulous.
"Either that or anorexic," I said. "He doesn't eat. But when he does, it just comes right back out."
"Tsuzuki-san..." Tatsumi sounded tried. "You only saw him for a couple of hours. He may not eat, but that doesn't mean he never eats."
I glanced at his image in the laptop. "Hisoka is ill and dying because he has some sort of eating disorder." I pointed out. Somehow, even as I said that, it didn't sound right.
"Kurosaki Hisoka is dead. He only appears to be alive because something is holding his spirit to his body. And eating disorders don't do that."
I sighed in defeat. "Yeah, I suppose."
"Besides, no one in Kamakura has even had documented cases of anorexia. The Kurosaki family has never had any eating disorders in the past," he continued.
I nodded slowly, "Then Hisoka's uncle killed him."
"What?" Tatsumi's glasses slipped as his eyes widened in shock.
I paused in thought, unsure if I should continue. It was cruel, unthinkable, hateful. I couldn't imagine anyone desiring for the death of his own nephew. But in the Kurosaki household, it was hard to say. "The master has an older brother whose bitter about not being the family heir. Hisoka's death would directly benefit his children." I could barely keep the anger out of my voice as I spoke.
"That seems more plausible," Tatsumi mused.
I was silent, watching the night filter through my screened windows. Hisoka had done nothing wrong. He had hurt no one. He wasn't guilty of anything but his birth. "I don't think its fair for him," I said finally.
Tatsumi didn't answer. My words probably worried him, so I searched my mind for something else to say. "But that doesn't explain why Hisoka's still alive."
"No, that makes a lot of sense. Kurosaki Nagare's older brother to reduce suspicions, so he drew Hisoka-san's death over a long period of time. The illness is actually more of a spell or curse tying the spirit to an already dead body. Extended periods of drugging a body can produce a similar effect. This uncle may have been slipping small doses of poison in his food. That could explain both the eating disorder and the illness."
That was cruel. Killing a person was already painful. How could he kill his own kin: a person that he had known since his birth, and watched him as he grew through the years? The guilt would be unbearable.
But then, if Tatsumi was correct, someone would have to be by Hisoka at all times to administer it. His uncle was never in the estate; a servant perhaps? Miya-chan was the only person I could think of, but I couldn't bring myself to suspect her.
"Tsuzuki-san, it seems that your assigned partner retired a few days after you were suppose to meet her. We could send GuShoShin as a substitute," he paused to smile encouragingly. "Or, I may be able to spare some time and join you in a couple of days," Tatsumi added quietly.
I glanced up at the laptop that blinked, and demurred about the faltering electrical supply of the rural countryside. There were shadows of sympathy and understanding on Tatsumi's features.
"I'm fine," I said with a reassuring smile, "But, that'll be great."
End of chapter 3
--------------------------------
humm... notice when Hisoka says he doesn't like his family, he's always talking about his father? What about his mother? Why doesn't he ever mention her? humm... anyway, this is my take on the Kurosaki family. If you would like to hear me rant, go to the author's notes, but i think reading that gives away the plot of the entire story, so, I'm not gonna link the author's notes until I finish XD
comments, questions, concerns welcome! still draft version *sigh*
Standard disclaimers apply.
-------------------------------
Erosion - chapter 3
by rubie
-------------------------------
Light filtered through the rice papered windows lazily, wisps sneaking past the small cracks in the wooden frame. One settled comfortably just over my right eye, and I frowned in protest. I opened my eyes reluctantly, dimly wondering why I was sleeping face down on the floor. My arms were tangled uncomfortably in a blanket that I didn't remember claiming. The bed was empty but made, shadowed in the far corner.
There was a vague nagging thought that something was missing.
A sluggish racking-through of last night's memories sent a realization crashing through my senses. I sat up quickly, wincing when my back cracked audibly.
Where was the boy?
The caviling thought twisted into ice that settled deep in my stomach.
I hauled myself to my feet, almost tripping over the blanket in the process. The door flew opened with a loud creak, and I scanned the open halls. There was a nagging dread that last nights events was all a confused dream. But I was sure that the boy existed, or was my mind playing tricks on me after almost two weeks of searching?
"Tsuzuki-san!"
The startled voice made me jump before my mind registered the speaker.
"Miya-chan," I whispered with some hesitation. Pale and trembling, she swayed slightly as she stood, watching me with weary eyes. Something was wrong. Did she realize I met the boy last night? But before I could question her, she suddenly burst into tears.
"Miya-chan?" I asked, startled. "Is something wrong?" I bent to offer her some comfort, but her hand shot out and clung to mine tightly.
"Hisoka-sama is ill! And he refuses to see anyone!" she looked at me, eyes imploring. "Doctor, you have to help him!"
"What?" surprised, I could only stare. Miya had tried so hard the last few weeks to keep me from the boy, why was she suddenly encouraging me?
"Master isn't home right now. Hisoka-sama doesn't let anyone come to his room, and wouldn't even touch the food. Kasane wants you to help him, but I don't think Master would allow it. But if Hisoka-sama dies..." Miya's was beginning to sound hysterical, and she spoke as if she wasn't even aware of her words. "Master'll never forgive us. Ever..."
"Where is he?" I asked firmly, giving her hand a squeeze as reassurance. "Hisoka, where is he?"
***
"It's this room, Tsuzuki-san," Miya whispered softly, her voice trembling as she parted the doors. I glanced at the deserted hallway uneasily.
"There are nobody here," I observed.
"No, Hisoka-sama...," Miya's voice drifted. "People don't stay close," she finally admitted, and before I could respond, retreated.
"You are not coming?" I asked, worried, but she was already gone.
Alone, a strange sense of dread settled over me. I knew next to nothing about illnesses. I could picture my treatment for Hisoka, prescribing him multipurpose tylenol. My cover would be blown in an instant. How did Tatsumi and Konoe talk me into accepting this assignment? I grinned my teeth in annoyance. But the door was already open; gathering up my courage, I stepped in.
And shivered.
A heavy blanket of ice settled over my chest painfully. I almost gagged, covering my mouth to muffle coughs. Shadows licked at the walls of the room, entwining itself lightly but firmly over my legs, brushing past the skin. Darkness claimed the body that lay in the far corner, encircling him almost possessively. There was an aura of evil around the boy, so strong that I wondered why I never felt it before.
"Hisoka?" the words left my mouth before I remembered the formalities.
There was no response, but I could hear distant sounds of shallow breathing. I began to approach the still form, disturbed by the silence.
"Get out." the voice was soft but firm, and carried a sense of stubborn authority. I stilled.
"What?"
"Get out!" Hisoka hissed louder as he struggled to sit up. I could barely make out his silhouette against the dark walls.
I refused to budge, fixing my eyes firmly on his face in defiance. The boy seemed to consider in silence, before picking up his pillow to fling it. It landed several feet short, and the boy slumped forward, gasping from the exertion. I fingered the ofuda in my pocket silently, watching as thin shoulders heaved, trembling. I could kill him right now, and put him out of his misery. I could free him from this icy household, where everything was a mask of lies. Then I could go home, leave this maze behind. But...
The boy's jade eyes suddenly fixed on me accusingly. I froze.
"Miya-chan told me you were very sick," I stuttered. "She wanted to see if I could help."
The boy didn't respond. I retrieved the pillow by my feet, and approached him slowly.
"But you look better now. How are you feeling?"
Hisoka was silent at first. "My caretaker resigned. And Miya-san is afraid of me," he said finally, eyes distant as if talking to himself, then turned to glare at me angrily. "You can't help me."
"We'll see," I smiled at him reassuringly.
"I'm feeling better," he mumbled, looking away.
I smiled broadly, purposely ignoring the hidden message of his statement. I knew he wanted me to leave. The boy was alone; servants feared being around him, his own caretaker deserted him, his parents never seemed to visit him. I wasn't going to leave easily.
"I'm sorry about last night," I said, settling next to his futon. Hisoka shifted away immediately. "You know, I hit your head against the wall when I tried to turn on the light," I grinned sheepishly. "Does it hurt?"
I touched his head lightly, but he reeled back as if struck. I blinked in surprise as he glared at me with cold eyes.
"No," he finally said.
"Really? I'm really sorry though." I stole a glance at the frail figure, leaning stiffly against the wall. Why was everyone so frightened of him? He was only a young boy; they were being unreasonable. "You go into that room every night, don't you?" I asked him carefully. "What do you do?"
"It's peaceful there," he whispered.
"You don't like company?" I glanced at the boy again, but he turned away, facing the wall.
"No." His words was soft, but I knew they were a dismissal.
I chose to be oblivious though, shrugging off his words carelessly. "Hey, what happened this morning?" I asked, "What happened to make Miya-chan come crying to me at five in the morning?"
The boy didn't respond. He continued to stare at the wall, eyes framed with thick lashes large in the still dim room. His body was tense under the blankets, as if my very presence upsetted him, but I stubbornly waited for an answer. I had been waiting almost two weeks to meet him, and I wasn't going to give up this chance easily.
Finally, he sighed in defeat. "Nothing," he said with the tone of finality.
And then he was silent again, settling deeper in the thick blankets that seemed cold despite their appearance. Unlike his mother and Kasane's kimono, the sheets were stark white, lined with an intricate red embordery that must have caused their maker much pain. But somehow, it didn't seem to fit him; they clashed with his jade green eyes and pale skin like a lonely flame in snow.
"I'm not going to leave, if that was what you're wondering," I said softly, unmoving.
The figure tensed in anger, turning to fix me with a harsh glare. "You...," he hissed, green eyes burning. But I sat unflinchingly, watching him carefully. Hisoka trailed off, turning to stare back at the wall. "I had a dream," he said with a sigh.
"What sort of dream?"
My words seem to freeze him, and the eyes he turned back at me were filled with a coldness that I remember mirrored in Nagare's eyes. "That doesn't concern you," he said, voice firm with authority.
My throat was suddenly dry, and I stared at Hisoka in frozen shock. The boyish youth and innocence that he carried, despite his stubborn anger, was suddenly lost in an instant. Dimly, I wondered what his family had done to him, to make him a mirror of his father. Was Nagare like this as a boy? If it was, I had severely wronged him.
Hisoka drew a sharp breath, his body rigid. His jade eyes were wide in shock or surprise I didn't know, and for a moment, I thought he was suffering from another attack of his mysterious illness. But then he struggled to sit up, keeping the covers wraped tightly over his body. I reached out to help him, steading him against my arm, but he pushed me away with surprising force.
The sliding doors suddenly flew open with a breath of frosty wind, and Rui stood behind them, regarding us silently.
"What are you doing here?" Rui asked carefully, each word falling like ice on marble.
"I was called," I said, meeting her eyes unwaveringly. She wasn't my master; I could care less what she thought of me. "That is what I was called here for, isn't it?"
Rui shifted her gaze almost apathetically. Instead, she looked to her son, eyes bearing silent threats. But Hisoka was silent. Instead, he sat stiffly from his position at the bed, staring at his mother with a barely concealed anger in his eyes.
"You didn't tell me a doctor came," the boy whispered.
What?
"You didn't tell him?" I asked. "I was sent here to treat him, and you didn't tell him a doctor was even here?"
My words sounded strangely accusing. Rui turned to me with an irritated scowl. With firm strides, she walked towards us and called down the hall.
"Miya-san, please take the doctor to his room."
"No, wait," I said quickly. Hisoka turned to fixed me with a glare, but didn't protest. My grin only widened.
It was time to be more assertive.
"I would like to eat breakfast with my patient."
***
Nothing was right. Nothing was ever right here.
Silence settled in the dinning room of the late winter morning heavily, and each breath of air felt like a mouth full of icy water, constricting the lungs and choking the throat. Not a bird's scream echoed from the mountains in the distance. Even the sun seemed frozen, the shafts of light that filtered through the trees were stiff and incompliant. Only the sakura dared to whisper, dragging whisps of snow through the sliding doors that parted to welcome them.
No one spoke. Rui seemed to be seething inside, despite her firm hold on her expressions. And the boy still avoided his food, staring at the woven mats as if they were the only things truly existent. I opened my mouth, then thought better of it. Everything just felt... wrong, as if the walls were echoing an inner rage. Sitting in this room was like sitting on the parterre of an ancient temple, beside columns eroding from the harshness of time.
Perhaps asking to eat breakfast with Hisoka was a bad idea. I should have known his mother would insist to eat with us. The boy no doubt would be happier in his room, in the warmth of his own bed, doing what he wished to do. Forcing him to sit with us like this was cruel; he looked ready to crumble and collapse into a heap of white robes with red embroideries.
"Eat," Rui said.
In the frozen morning, her voice was shattering. Her words were obviously meant for Hisoka; he didn't respond, and continued to stare as if there were no one in the room. Were the two like this every time they were together? A mother and son, addressing each other like strangers. Rui spoke to his child harshly with a commanding and apathetic tone. And Hisoka's painfully neutral expressions spoke of careful self-control. Living in such a could household must have grinded him into submission. But he must have been so bitter inside...
I should really say something.
"If you don't like the food, I can get you something when I go to the village later," I offered.
The boy didn't respond to my words, but gripped the wooden bowl with both hands mechanically. For I moment, I thought he would hurl it at me, by the way his hands shook with either anger or fatigue and his eyes glazed. But he began to eat, carefully but obviously not enjoying his meal. His face contorted, as if each bite was disgusting and distasteful. He crammed the food in his mouth, and when they refused to be chewed or swallowed, washed it down with water. It looked more like an act of frustration rather than hunger. I wondered what I said wrong.
I searched my mind for something else to say. "Are you cold, Hisoka? You look really pale."
The two looked at me in surprise, and I wondered if I said something wrong by using a too intimate form of his name. I wasn't sure why I did, but calling him by anything else seemed unfitting.
"No," he finally whispered.
"The house is really cold in the winter. You should install a heater here."
"No," he repeated.
"Are you tired? You look tired."
"No."
I chewed my chopsticks in frustration. Rui wasn't even trying to pretend to eat anymore, watching me through silent eyes. It would be nice if she would leave. Her silent threats were becoming annoying, and her efforts to keep the buried tensions within the household hidden were painfully obvious. But I was here as a doctor for his child; private issues did not concern me. Why did she perceive me as such a threat?
"I was quite surprised to see you, Hisoka. By the way everyone spoke about you, I thought you were a myth," I admitted. I knew I had willingly angered Rui, but I didn't care.
Rui stood up in one swift fluid movement, and the floor boards protested as she walked stiffly out. If that was meant to intimidate me, she had failed. But Hisoka remained unmoving, staring past as if nothing had happened.
I chewed my lip, attempting to find a way to break the cold tension that lingered between us. "It looks like its going to be a nice day outside. Do you usually go out?"
"No."
"Does anyone take you outside sometimes?"
"No."
"Would you like to come with me to town today?"
"No."
I grimaced. This conversation was going nowhere. I dimly wondered why he even chose to stay in the room, considering how my attempts at a conversation had progressed. I had expected him to be more talkative after his mothing left the room, after the absence of the seemingly impenetrateable barbed wire. His frustration towards Rui was rather obvious, however suppressed it may be to him. "You don't like your mother?" I asked softly, and immediately regretted it. It was a sensitive subject, and we were not intimate. I had no right to ask him such question, but the words escaped before I could stop myself. "I'm sorry," I said quickly in an attempt to correct myself.
Hisoka paled, or rather it was only the light. It was impossible to tell. But he made no attempt to answer. Sakura renewed its efforts to paint the floors with that bloody pink. The dull silence became an incessant buzz.
A failing bird screamed in the distance as the wooden bowls crashed to the floor. Hisoka tripped over his food tray and stumbled on unsteady feet to the courtyard. The ice cracked and splintered as his bare feet met the earth. He fell to his knees, then retched in the garden.
***
"He's bulimic?" Tatsumi's voice sounded incredulous.
"Either that or anorexic," I said. "He doesn't eat. But when he does, it just comes right back out."
"Tsuzuki-san..." Tatsumi sounded tried. "You only saw him for a couple of hours. He may not eat, but that doesn't mean he never eats."
I glanced at his image in the laptop. "Hisoka is ill and dying because he has some sort of eating disorder." I pointed out. Somehow, even as I said that, it didn't sound right.
"Kurosaki Hisoka is dead. He only appears to be alive because something is holding his spirit to his body. And eating disorders don't do that."
I sighed in defeat. "Yeah, I suppose."
"Besides, no one in Kamakura has even had documented cases of anorexia. The Kurosaki family has never had any eating disorders in the past," he continued.
I nodded slowly, "Then Hisoka's uncle killed him."
"What?" Tatsumi's glasses slipped as his eyes widened in shock.
I paused in thought, unsure if I should continue. It was cruel, unthinkable, hateful. I couldn't imagine anyone desiring for the death of his own nephew. But in the Kurosaki household, it was hard to say. "The master has an older brother whose bitter about not being the family heir. Hisoka's death would directly benefit his children." I could barely keep the anger out of my voice as I spoke.
"That seems more plausible," Tatsumi mused.
I was silent, watching the night filter through my screened windows. Hisoka had done nothing wrong. He had hurt no one. He wasn't guilty of anything but his birth. "I don't think its fair for him," I said finally.
Tatsumi didn't answer. My words probably worried him, so I searched my mind for something else to say. "But that doesn't explain why Hisoka's still alive."
"No, that makes a lot of sense. Kurosaki Nagare's older brother to reduce suspicions, so he drew Hisoka-san's death over a long period of time. The illness is actually more of a spell or curse tying the spirit to an already dead body. Extended periods of drugging a body can produce a similar effect. This uncle may have been slipping small doses of poison in his food. That could explain both the eating disorder and the illness."
That was cruel. Killing a person was already painful. How could he kill his own kin: a person that he had known since his birth, and watched him as he grew through the years? The guilt would be unbearable.
But then, if Tatsumi was correct, someone would have to be by Hisoka at all times to administer it. His uncle was never in the estate; a servant perhaps? Miya-chan was the only person I could think of, but I couldn't bring myself to suspect her.
"Tsuzuki-san, it seems that your assigned partner retired a few days after you were suppose to meet her. We could send GuShoShin as a substitute," he paused to smile encouragingly. "Or, I may be able to spare some time and join you in a couple of days," Tatsumi added quietly.
I glanced up at the laptop that blinked, and demurred about the faltering electrical supply of the rural countryside. There were shadows of sympathy and understanding on Tatsumi's features.
"I'm fine," I said with a reassuring smile, "But, that'll be great."
End of chapter 3
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humm... notice when Hisoka says he doesn't like his family, he's always talking about his father? What about his mother? Why doesn't he ever mention her? humm... anyway, this is my take on the Kurosaki family. If you would like to hear me rant, go to the author's notes, but i think reading that gives away the plot of the entire story, so, I'm not gonna link the author's notes until I finish XD
comments, questions, concerns welcome! still draft version *sigh*