Hopefully posting this will put my story back on the Yami fic list here... no idea why it wouldn't be, but FFN apparently hates me this week.
Chapter Ten
It's like Akimiya says. Somehow I get through the night. The next day. The week. Every minute seems to drag out into an eternity, but I survive each eternity and emerge on the other side unscathed. At first I spend every spare moment I get with Tsuzuki in spirit, but it doesn't take long before I figure out that I can only keep that up for so long. The constant expenditure of energy, especially given the fact that I haven't been eating and barely been sleeping, is taking its toll. A far worse price, however, is the constant separation from my own body. Even when I'm not actively trying to be with him now, my consciousness drifts. Everything is disconnected, disjointed. I'm starting to wonder if I've actually lost myself beyond finding.
Especially when I consider that I'm not even sure whether or not it's this or the grief that's causing the disconnection.
There's really only one way to find out. "Akimiya?"
He glances up from the papers he's been shuffling through. We're between assignments, doing some cleanup from the last one. Rika took over Tsuzuki's job in the lab, which worked quite nicely. "What's up?"
"I-I have a favor to ask you."
He looks at me again, closer this time. "Yeah?"
"Can you stop taking Watari's potion for a few days? I'm testing a theory."
He does so without asking questions, for which I'm profoundly grateful. It helps, at least in that I'm not actively drawn towards Tsuzuki anymore, but the feeling of separation doesn't go away. I think I may have permanently severed my soul from my body, as bizarre as that sounds.
"Rika? Is Watari in?"
Rika gives me her wide-eyed innocent look, which I've learned really isn't as innocent as it seems. "Yeah, he's in his office. I don't think he's busy."
"Okay. Thanks." I knock on Watari's door, cringing. I don't think he can help, but I have to try, because I can't live like this. "Watari?"
"Hmmm?" He looks up as 003 flitters around his head.
"Can I talk to you for a sec?"
"Sure, c'mon in." He puts aside whatever he's futzing with and gives me a serious look. He is capable of being serious at times, despite all evidence to the contrary. "What's wrong?"
I try to find a way to phrase it, and can't. There's no real way I can put it without feeling like an idiot. "You know that I can use my empathy over long distances, right?" He nods, looking confused. "And . . . and I can always find Tsuzuki . . . so I have been."
He blinks for a minute, then looks fascinated. "You have?"
I nod miserably. "Aa . . . if I stretch out far enough I can feel his presence, and he can feel mine. I knew it was stupid, but I-I couldn't help it, and . . . and now I think I've been doing it too much, because I never feel here anymore. Everything gets all fuzzy." I spread my hands out in my lap, half-expecting to see my own legs beneath them. I feel that transparent, and desperately ashamed to have to admit what I was doing.
Watari taps a pencil against the desk for a minute. "It's probably temporary," he finally says. "I've seen it happen before with telepaths and empaths who've used their powers too often or too much. If you rest for a few days, don't do anything with it, you ought to recover."
"I thought of that, but . . ." I laugh shakily. "I'm not sure I trust myself."
"Well," Watari says reasonably, "ask to stay at Akimiya's for a few days and let him block your empathy. That'll do it as effectively as anything else would. And . . ." he pauses. "He'll understand, you know. He won't think less of you for it."
"I know." I swallow hard, my eyes burning. "Thanks."
For a minute he looks like he's going to say something else; some words of comfort or understanding, but he doesn't. I suppose he knows that they wouldn't mean anything, not really.
Akimiya understands, and accepts, and then tells me it works out well because we've got a mission anyway. "Think you can do it without your empathy?" he asks.
I manage a wan smile. "I did for six months before Watari made you that potion."
"True enough. Let's go see Tatsumi-san. Don't worry, I won't mention this to him."
He didn't have to say that, because I already knew it to be true, but it's comforting all the same. Tatsumi relates the details of the case to us in his normal, even tone. It isn't until almost the end that I realize he's left out something very important. "Ah, Tatsumi . . . where are we going?"
He blinked at me. "I forgot you didn't know; I told Sakamoto-san earlier. Tokyo. Ginza, to be precise."
Tokyo. The last known whereabouts of Tsuzuki and Muraki. This really couldn't be timed any worse. I let out a shaky breath. Both Tatsumi and Akimiya are watching me very closely. "Tatsumi, will you do me a favor?"
He nods slightly.
"Order me not to try to find him." I push my hair out of my face. "I know it's a bad idea, and I know I shouldn't, and at three o'clock in the morning 'should' won't mean a damn thing to me. Tell me I can't."
Tatsumi opens his mouth, probably to protest, at the very least tell me that it really isn't within the realm of authority, but then he stops. If nothing else can be said of Tatsumi, he's a remarkably perceptive man, and I suppose the look on my face probably gives away what I've been doing. It isn't as if I've been terribly with-it in the past few days anyway. "All right," he finally says. "You're not allowed to try to find Tsuzuki, or Muraki, and if you see either of them you must leave right away. Understood?"
He has a way of making even polite requests sound like orders, so all I can do is nod.
~~~~
Endless hours stretch into endless days. About a week passes, maybe more; maybe less. I've lost track of time, because that happens when every minute seems like an eternity. Everyone looks at me funny, now. I guess because they all know I'm never going to be the same.
The one way I could be with Tsuzuki was taken away, but maybe it's all for the best. Eventually Muraki would have sensed my presence, and he either would have punished Tsuzuki for disobeying him, or decided Tsuzuki had broken enough of his vow for Muraki to come after me.
Rika caught me repeatedly slicing my wrists the other day. She had come to our office looking for Akimiya, who was off somewhere on some errand or another. I'm not sure why I was doing it. I had just sliced it open and watched it heal, and the effect was sort of hypnotizing, so I kept doing it. Over and over again, hoping that eventually it would work. Eventually I'd keep bleeding and manage to die.
Making Tsuzuki's sacrifice pointless? Maybe. But does it really matter? He'll never know, and in any case, I don't think this can really be called living. And I can't just decide to hold on until Muraki dies; he's cheated death too often to be anything normal. He'll be around for a long, long time, and he'll never release his vow unless I can find a way to force him.
Yeah, right.
Fortunately, Rika agreed not to tell anyone. Though her definition of 'anyone' doesn't include Akimiya, but I knew it didn't. They're the only two people I don't mind letting see me be neurotic like this, so I don't really care. I mean, Rika can't talk. She spent seven months locked in her room in mourning. She isn't about to criticize me.
At the moment, I'm bored. I have absolutely nothing to do, and having absolutely nothing to do is never a good idea when you're monumentally depressed. I suppose I could try to figure out how to kill myself. Shinigami have died before, so there must be a way for it to happen.
I wander down to the library. The Gushoshin greet me at the door. "Looking for anything in particular, Hisoka-san?" Gushoshin Elder asks me.
Slight nod. "Trying to distract myself," I say, and gain looks of sympathy from both of them. "Do you have anything general? A history of the Shinigami or something?" That would include it, I'm fairly certain. "Maybe something on exactly what we are and how we work? Seems like something I should know."
One of them floats off into the stacks for a while and returns with quite possibly the thickest, dustiest book I've ever seen. "This ought to do it," it says cheerfully. I'm inclined to agree. That book is going to keep me distracted until my hair turns gray. I thank both of them and make my way back to the office.
Just as I had expected, there's a chapter on how Shinigami can die or be killed. It's a good thing that neither of the Gushoshin are suspicious by nature, or they probably would have realized why I wanted this book to begin with.
It's actually interesting stuff. Not so interesting that I actually manage to forget why I'm looking it up, but enough to minorly distract me.
The easiest way to kill a Shinigami, according to this, is something that will destroy the body utterly. That, most likely, is why Touda's fire is so lethal. It burns hot enough to consume everything in its path.
Drowning and suffocation don't work; Shinigami don't technically need oxygen. Neither does anything as simple as a gun or a knife, because we regenerate so quickly that it's impossible for that to kill us. Besides burning, decapitation is the other common method. Regeneration apparently doesn't include growing a new head.
In a way, Shinigami are a lot like vampires. Well, except for the sunlight and the stake through the heart bit. Never mind. I'm not making any sense anyway.
This isn't leaving me a hell of a lot of options, really. I just don't think there's any way I can chop off my own head, and I can't summon Touda (pardon me while I laugh in a corner at the image of me ever being that powerful) so I can't burn myself to death.
There's a note at the end of the chapter about how some Shinigami choose to retire, and basically, their bodies are dissolved and their spirits are sent on. That might work, if it weren't for the fact that Tatsumi would never let me do it and quite frankly, I'd be too terrified to try to see EnmaDaioh on my own.
So I'm stuck. I can feel tears of frustration rising and blink them back furiously. Resist the urge to throw the book across the room. I'd wind up damaging it and the last thing I need now are library fees. Though why not? It's not like I spend my money on anything while Tsuzuki's not around. It's not like it really matters. It's not like anything does.
I'm so absorbed in my self-pity and misery that I don't even notice when someone comes in and peers over my shoulder for a second, before reaching over to shut the book. "Whatever happened to not wasting Tsuzuki's sacrifice?" Tatsumi asks quietly.
I really wish I could think if a good comeback, but what falls out of my mouth instead is "Shut up." Way to go, eloquent me.
Tatsumi picks up the book and takes it away, which I consider pretty unfair of him. I mean, what the hell business is it of his if I want to die? It's not like Tsuzuki will ever find out. It's not like anyone here would miss me terribly. They'll probably all be glad that they won't have to listen to my whining anymore.
I stand up and redirect my glare at him. "Look, what business of yours is it?" My voice sounds really raw in my own ears. Maybe because I've barely been using it lately. "If I can't live without him, nobody should care except for me."
Tatsumi looks at me impassively, over the rims of his glasses. "I think Tsuzuki would probably care."
"Yeah, but he'll never find out, now will he," I ask, nearly sneering. I'm sneering at Tatsumi. I really must have a death wish. "He's off God knows where doing God knows what and living with Muraki of all fucking people and Muraki's probably . . ." My voice chokes and I make a grab for the book.
Tatsumi holds it out of my reach, putting one hand on my chest and giving me a sharp push backwards. "I've had just about enough of your self-pity," he says coolly. "You've never been particularly selfish, and it doesn't suit you."
I just gape at him. I can't even begin to think of what to say.
"I've been friends with Tsuzuki-san for seventy years," Tatsumi says sharply. "And I've loved him for almost as long. But you don't see me hiding in books and looking for ways to end my own existence."
"You . . . you don't know . . ." I'm almost crying now, but anger is holding the tears back. "You don't know how alone I've been . . ."
"Don't I?" Tatsumi asks quietly, and I try to remember the last time I saw him with anyone other than Tsuzuki that wasn't on official business. He doesn't even seem to have friends the way I do; he's universally respected and liked, but close to no one. The anger runs out of me like water and I sag so quickly that he has to catch me to keep me from falling.
"I'm sorry," I hear myself say into his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
For this first time in weeks, I want to cry. But I can't. I just feel numb.
Tatsumi helps me into a chair and gets me a glass of water. He says nothing.
"I . . . I never even stopped to think that someone else might be hurting," I say. My voice sounds like it's coming from thousands of miles away, spoken by somebody else who's going through this. "I was so wrapped up in myself . . . it didn't even occur to me."
"It's all right," Tatsumi says, but he sounds tired. "There's a distinct difference between the two of us. I'm coping. You're not."
"I don't know how." I stare down at my shirt, my fists clenching. "Even Akimiya couldn't tell me what to do, and he would know if anyone would. I just don't know what to do to make it stop hurting."
"I don't know either." Tatsumi glances around. "My own tactic of burying myself in my work doesn't seem to be doing so well."
I laugh. It sounds like I'm bordering on the edge of hysteria. Maybe I am. I just don't know anymore. I'm so tired I'm not even sure I'll be able to drag myself home.
"Go home and rest," Tatsumi says quietly. "There's nothing else to be done here today, for you, anyway. No more suicide attempts, all right?"
"Can't anyway," I say dully. "I can't summon Touda, don't know how to build a guillotine, and would never ask to resign and be sent on. I'm stuck here, whether I like it or not."
He nods, and I go. Home. Still smelling uniquely of Tsuzuki; it hasn't been long enough for that to fade. Fall into bed without another thought, and even manage to sleep, but I can't stop dreaming of him.
~~~~
I lose track of time. Try Tatsumi's expert advice and bury myself in work. If there are no assignments, I scrounge for something to do wherever I can. I even take it home with me if it's possible. I've managed to keep up the self-restraint necessary to not keep visiting Tsuzuki empathically, which is good. But I've stopped sleeping, which I don't think is as good, and eating. Akimiya keeps taking me out to lunch and inviting me over for dinner and trying to make me eat, but I'm never hungry.
I know that Shinigami can't starve to death, but starvation will have adverse affects the way it would on any human. Loss of weight, loss of energy, lack of concentration, chronic fatigue. Of course, those things are also caused by insomnia, which I've had plenty of trouble with too.
The last time I had this much trouble (read: was this depressed) was when I was trapped in my own nightmares all the time. My solution then was to basically do nothing but sleep; I lay around and wrapped myself in apathy. I totally lost track of reality. I think I might like to do that now, but it isn't working. When I lie in bed and try to sink into that noncaring, I can't. I keep seeing Tsuzuki's face.
//come back to us, please, Hisoka, we all miss you very much . . .//
The last time I was dreaming . . .
//we miss you very much . . .//
I couldn't escape . . .
//I miss you . . .//
But this time it's him who's gone.
~~~~
It finally catches up to me. I wake up and I can't even manage to stand, because I'm just so tired. Even breathing is an effort that seems to take too much energy. I just lie there and stare at my ceiling, lacking even the motivation to reach over and turn my alarm clock off. I just let it keep beeping. I don't know why I ever bother to set it anymore. I'm never asleep when it goes off.
After what seems like forever, but apparently was only about forty-five minutes, of listening to it beep, I come to the inevitable conclusion that I'm never going to be able to muster up enough energy to go to work. I'm somehow not terribly surprised by this; I've been waiting for it to happen. Every day has been a little harder. I've nearly gotten myself killed three times on assignments, either through lack of concentration or because once I passed out while I was supposed to be fighting. Fortunately for me, Akimiya was able to rescue me, and agreed to not say anything about it.
After another ten minutes, I manage to get my arm to move. Shut off the alarm clock and pick up the phone. It takes three tries to dial the numbers correctly. My fingers don't want to bend correctly. Funny, that. I didn't know fatigue affected your fingers.
Tatsumi is already at the office, and comes readily enough when I ask for him. "What's wrong?" he greets me. No hellos for Tatsumi, of course not.
I have to swallow before I can speak, and even when I manage, my voice is hoarse. "I don't think I can come in today."
I can practically see him raising his eyebrows. "Why not?"
"I just can't. I'm . . . I'm so tired . . ." I'm starting to run out of energy to speak. How sad is that? Even my vocal chords don't want to obey me. I've been stripped of my last defense.
Tatsumi sighs slightly. "When was the last time you slept?"
"Catnap yesterday . . . about an hour during lunch. I don't know when before that. I try to sleep but it doesn't work." He better not blame that on me. I do try to sleep, honestly. I just can't.
"The last time you ate?"
"God, Tatsumi, I don't even remember." I'll admit that this is my fault. But I'm just never hungry, and too much food reminds me of Tsuzuki.
"All right. You deserve a break. Take a few days. In fact, if I see you in here before Thursday, I'm just sending you home again."
"Aa." Pause. "What day is it today?"
"It's Monday."
Frown. Process. "Have I been taking any days off?"
"Not that I've seen," he replies.
"Tatsumi . . .?"
"What?"
"How long has it been? I . . . I don't remember."
"It's been five weeks and three days," Tatsumi says, his voice oddly gentle. Five weeks? I've honestly survived without him for five weeks? I didn't think I would even last five days. Tatsumi could have told me anything and I would have believed him. I honestly had no idea.
"All right. I'll see you Thursday?"
"If you want. You can take longer if you need it."
"Aa."
For the first time in days, I sleep. I sleep still holding onto the phone, and it doesn't even wake me with its obnoxious beeping the way it usually will if it's been left off the hook. I sleep so soundly that I wake up in the same position, phone still clutched in one hand, with no concept of how long I've been asleep, but feeling two things. For one, I'm no longer exhausted. I can move, and the world feels clearer. Secondly, I'm ravenously hungry.
Stumbling out to the kitchen. There's almost no food in the kitchen and what there is has gone bad. Glance outside. It's dark, and the clock says nine; so I call Akimiya. He rises to the occasion, brings me over some really good Chinese food, insists on staying with me while I eat it, and tells me that it's Tuesday night. I slept clear through all day Monday and all day Tuesday.
I'm never going to sleep now, and I need something to do. I need a shower. God only knows the last time I took one. I emerge clean, and feeling slightly better. Hell, if I needed cleaning, maybe the house needs cleaning.
It does. It's developed into a sty while I was wandering around half-conscious all the time. I set to work picking up, dusting, cleaning the kitchen, doing whatever will take my mind off everything.
In a pile of dirty clothes, I feel something hard. Take it out.
Muraki's knife. In all the confusion, no one remembered that I had it. If they did, I'm sure Tatsumi would have seen that it was taken away from me. It's the one method of suicide that I might actually be able to use. Not that I would give Muraki the pleasure of seeing me dead by his own hand.
I wonder suddenly, if the knife could kill Shinigami, could it kill him? I have no idea how he's stayed alive all the times that he has, no idea of what he really is. But if the knife enacts a curse, it would stand to reason.
I stand there, staring at it. It's nearly two o'clock in the morning. All I can do is look at it, as an idea starts to tug at the corner of my mind.
It might . . . it could . . . it's possible . . .
I pull on my shoes, pocket the knife, and take off at a flat run. I reach Akimiya's at about twenty past two. He's the only one that might possibly help me. Tatsumi will think it's a bad idea because it's so risky; there are too many ways it could go wrong. But Akimiya might understand, and if all else fails, I'll be able to guilt trip him into helping me anyway.
I have to pound on his door for a good few minutes before he answers. He's wearing a hastily thrown on bathrobe, and I feel myself blush. "I didn't, uh, interrupt anything, did I?"
"Yeah," he says, yawning. "It's called sleep, and it's a habit that most of us normal people indulge in at night." But he stands back to let me in anyway. "What'd you need? Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," I say, and for the first time in weeks, it's true. "I found this while I was cleaning." I hold the knife out to him.
He looks at it with a distasteful expression, and then I can feel his sudden fear roll off him in waves. He meets my eyes. "What are you going to do?"
I put the knife back in my pocket. "I'm going to take back what's mine."
~~~~
Ta da! Cliffhanger! Feedback please?