Angra Mainyu
Arc Two - Supremacy - Part Two
----------------------------
Sleep, thankfully, was not always required of a Shinigami. At least, not on the constant basis of a living human; the dead could survive a night or two without rest or significant problems if need be. It was that fact that Hisoka had relied on throughout the night, not a second of rest taken as he wandered the streets in search of the other tainted one. His time had been better spent awake in that regard; the other was closer - or closer than they had been when he had begun his search.
Catching a flicker of another mind to the side, Hisoka turned his jade eyes to his unintentional companion, a difficult to read emotion settling in his eyes. While it was not wholly anger, nor hatred, or even a slight touch of understanding or similarity, it managed to be a bit of each. Not all of one, but bits of some warring for control in the pale emerald pools. None could vie for dominance, since he could not yet decide which he should feel given the situation, which was complex at best.
That situation being that he was no longer alone in his investigation, and it was none other than the redhead of Weiß that was voluntarily helping him. Not that he felt he'd needed assistance of any sort; it had simply been a compromise. Ran had followed him from Koneko and he had caught on, his empathy a clear hint as to his being followed; upon turning back and catching the other red-handed the problem of what to do about it had arisen. The assassin clearly hadn't wanted him wandering alone, just as Hisoka did not wish to be babysat; so, indeed, a compromise had been needed to satisfy the moment. In the end it came down to a mind used to Tokyo would know where to go for shortcuts, whereas he had been limited to wandering only towards the faint feeling of the other, with no idea for path or speed. In return, Ran allowed him to continue his search, without much question or conversation. And allowed the assassin to keep an eye on the mysterious Shinigami who had appeared without warning; that much Hisoka was well aware of.
Underneath it all, and what made the teen's anger at the compromise falter, was a soft sense of guilt. Well hidden within the other's mind, but blindingly clear to an empath with as weak of barriers as himself. Something was stewing in the other's mind, and guilt was associated well with it. It was curious, and unsettling; something that he would have to know more about to make a firm decision. Until then he could let the other 'tag along' with him, and act as though he did not need the already precious directions Ran had provided quietly as needed.
Walking along the sidewalk, and avoiding what congestion of humans the early morning hour was bringing, Hisoka turned his attention back to his surroundings, or rather the trace feeling of Muraki's curse upon the soul of another. Only to find that it had disappeared from his mind. He froze, footsteps stilling on the pavement as a hand rose to clutch at his arm, realizing equally fast that the burning in his body had faded away once more. No doubt that the red marks were long faded again, leaving his skin as pale as ever, with no trace of Muraki's presence in his past.
All that meant was the lack of the doctor being around with his influence. That, in turn, left Hisoka up against a brick wall in terms of finding the other person right then and there. Without the similar touch of Muraki's power, he could not just walk up and pick out the victim in a crowd any more than he could a needle in a haystack. The curse, as ironic as it was, was akin to a magnetic in that; he'd need it to have any hope of finding the one small needle of a person in the very large pile of hay.
"Damnit," he muttered, eyes scanning the street for some familiar hint, as useless as that may have been. He wasn't going to give up too quickly, though; his mind opened itself to the sea of emotions that consistently worked through his barriers, hoping to find some hint or image of the doctor's presence. Somewhere to the left he felt a woman's stress of being late, and towards the rear there was a man who seemed to be in dark contemplation of some monetary matter. Nothing defined in thought, simply images and emotions; yet none of them related to the one he needed. The faint disappointment of waking up alone, even though the partner was merely a substitute for another, the lurching of a headache and body upset with motion. That one held him for a moment, his mind wavering on the edge of someone who seemed an entire ocean of minds within one, as though thousands of voices raced through his head without care.
With a shudder, Hisoka pulled himself back within the safety of his barriers, retreating his mind to the small section of his consciousness that was his alone. That was something he did not want to feel again, especially not when there were more important matters at hand. Such as admitting that he had lost the trail.
Sighing, he reluctantly looked at Ran, defeat flickering in his jade eyes before the cold mask that was his own slipped into place. "They're not here," he said sharply. "Or, they were and they just managed to disappear completely. The feeling is gone."
Standing in the slow flow of people traffic on the sidewalk, not many around since the sun rose so early in the morning here, Ran just watched the other Shinigami as he seemed to concentrate and extend his power out to try to snare a hold of the trail they'd been following all night. It was an interesting thing to watch an empath at work he supposed... he'd only met one other similar to Hisoka, and that was Schwarz's telepath. He had never really felt the urge to sit and watch Schuldig play his mind games, rather preferring to just keep himself and his team away from it and not manipulated as the German possibly could.
It had been a long night, though he wasn't really tired. An advantage he supposed of being dead... one did not have to follow the strict criteria of rest and food to keep a body healthy when they weren't alive. Despite some emotional confusion and his feet hurting a bit from walking around all night, he felt completely fine. He'd have to remember to ask Hisoka of the minor differences between being dead and alive. Did he even -ever- have to eat, or sleep? He was a bit hungry. But was that his habitual mind thinking he needed food making him hungry? Minor details to think on though there were far more things to think on.
As the jade-eyed boy told him he'd lost the trail, the redheaded blade expert of Weiß sighed softy but nodded, a bit disappointed as well. He wasn't sure what exactly he'd been expecting to find on this search through the streets of Tokyo, but he'd been expecting... something. Or hoping... Though the night had hardly been a waste, at least not on his part. Though he was hardly about to reveal all deep dark secrets to the boy and hand to him as much trust as Weiß had... some of his wariness of the Shinigami had dissipated. The boy simply reminded him a bit of... the others of Weiß, in ways. And of himself. It was almost as if looking into a darker mirror version of himself questing ever so for revenge... Though Ran had at least succeeded in his vengeance in his life, he wasn't forever plagued for all eternity on delivering justice...
Well... perhaps not... He still had the particular fate of his sister to deduce and then to revenge possibly. As well as the fate of his teammates and his -own- life...
Frowning lightly, Ran watched a few people pass by, seeming to feel something well in him as they passed... the same something that was dispelled even before he could pinpoint what it was when someone else passed by. Intriguing... he'd never felt that before when just walking down the street, surrounded by the various people going about their lives. Lifting his hand to brush the crimson silk of his bangs hanging over his face away, his deep gaze met with Hisoka's. "We should return to Koneko then..." he said in his usual soft but strong tones. His gaze left the boy's and he looked at one of the buildings near them and then to a street sign to see just where they'd ended up. A short touch of a pained emotion flared through him at the thought of returning to his home but he tried to brush it off quickly before he could name what it was... what he was feeling at the inevitability of going back to the others of Weiß who were, or would be soon, waking to their first day of knowing they were dead. Because of him. They'd surely have things to start learning to prepare themselves for their new positions in existence, so there would be no hiding in his room or on the fire escape for him today to get away from their accusing and hating looks.
Trying to brush all of that deep angsting and self-loathing and guilt ridden thoughts away with the reminder he was with an empath who he didn't need syncing himself with his emotions again, Ran turned to head down the street back towards the flower shoppe. He should get back before they started thinking he ran out on them. Got them killed and abandoned them... what a wondrous leader he'd be. With how far they were from the apartments, he could probably be back by the time he usually woke up. "We're not far."
--
Blink.
That was different and slightly unexpected. For a second, Omi wasn't certain he'd gone to his friend's room as much as Youji's, but a glance around the half-nude playboy confirmed that it was the soccer player's abode, with the playboy in it. Which led him right back to the unexpected thought, as in why Youji was in Ken's room. As far as he knew, there wasn't anything between them. Was there?
"Youji-kun, are you... - and Ken-kun?"
Blinking again, the youth shook his head and cleared his throat. That wasn't his place to ask, nor was it really important in the current matter. What they did on their spare time was fine. And, come to think of it, Youji had brought Ken upstairs to bed the night before, so, honestly, it wasn't that hard to assume all that was running through the teen's mind already.
Damnit, Omi, mind out of the gutter before Youji decided to tease.
Coughing a bit more, he held up the file of information for the older male to look at if he so wanted. "It's information about the Summoner's Office," he finally managed, trying to keep his mind on the more serious matter of their deaths instead of what Ken and Youji were doing at night. "I got it this morning from Kritiker... Manx sent it to me."
/Youji-kun, are you... - and Ken-kun?/
The blonde had to smirk at that. It did rather look that way especially since he was in Ken's pajama pants, which were a bit too small in the leg length to go much further past his shins.
Grinning widely, he ignored the bit of information Omi held in his hands and leaned against the doorjamb. Sticking his thumb into the waistband of the pants, tugging them dangerously low on the one end, the smirk widened and his emerald gaze smoked over into that 'I'm eyeing something delicious and beddable' look. His voice also took on that same quality as he drawled lazily.
"No Omi... we're not. My tastes run a bit... sweeter... more blonde... more genki... and definitely cherubic. Know anyone that fits the bill, Chu?" He winked lightly. Leaning forward he sniffed lightly along the boy's neck and murmured softly, "Didn't you just turn 18, Chu?" Continuing with his light seduction and with a light lick along the boy's ear, Youji snapped the file out of Omi's most likely distracted hands and immediately straightened as if nothing had happened at all. "Whatcha dig up my little Chu-ie Morsel?"
--
The sound of voices speaking woke Tsuzuki up from his trance-induced sleep, violet eyes blinking away the sleep in his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head. Shinigami did not need sleep, but there were times when the familiar pattern of resting was a comfort after a stressful day of work. Or diving deep into memories that were best left undisturbed. But everything was fine now; he had made peace with the Tern Bird and found that center of stubborn strength that made him unable to give up even when he wanted to. That part that clung to life even while the rest of him tried over and over again to leave it, only to become a Shinigami when he did so.
Standing up, he ran a hand through his hair, his lips parting in a yawn as he glanced around the room. The murmuring voices were too faint and distant to make out the words, but Tsuzuki knew that they were talking about him. Or rather, about the Summoner's Office and the Shinigami. Glancing up the stairs, he pondered for a moment about listening in to the conversation then rolled his shoulders in a shrug. They still had things to work out between them and he would just be butting in where he did not belong. Besides, he was getting hungry.
Picking up his shirt, he pulled it on, humming tunelessly to himself as he buttoned it up halfway. Picking up his coat and tie, Tsuzuki draped them over the couch, and grabbed a box of pocky to make a light snack while he waited. Five minutes later, the pocky was gone and he was still hungry. Eyeing the chocolate liquors, he pondered the merits of eating them then remembered how he acted while slightly sloshed. Hisoka would be mad if he got drunk off of candies while working. He normally yelled at him when he wasn't working and drunk as well. Giving Hisoka a mental count of five more minutes, Tsuzuki threw away the empty pocky boxes and eyed the candies.
Well, maybe one wouldn't hurt...
--
'You make it hard to breathe
It's as if I'm suffocating'
Her very presence seemed able to suck all of the air from a room, pulling away all of the living essence as ones nearby are left gasping for breath. Every strangled pull for breath in vain, just making them seem to sink further into darkness and loss. Already dead long before they could scream. Long before they even felt the first pains of slow suffocation of loss of blood and lack of oxygen... The bewitching beauty was careful to not let any of her true self show until it was too late.
And it was indeed too late.
'And when you're next to me
I can feel your heart beat through my skin'
What was it about feeling the final beat of a person's heart beneath their flesh that gave her what she needed to survive? Where some had a blood lust for death, a craving for the fast beatings of a heart as it struggled to pump blood to torn flesh through mangled limbs, she simply enjoyed it. Needed it on some level that far exceeded that of primal hunting urges that some humans acted on... She needed it, she craved it. It was what she was created for. Created and bred in a world of destruction and darkness which was the antithesis of the world of the living. Watching the blood flow and being the one to make the incision and the tears was what allowed her to stay here. The river of dark crimson fluid fueling her similar to how the open portal to the hell realm. It was the same tortured depravity of her home world.
'It makes me sad to think
This could all be for nothing'
Some she didn't even have to kill herself. A few careful words and twisted promises... and their souls were hers. Their bodies were in her possession and hers to do with as she so pleased. And they -so- longed to please their mistress. One she watched as he dug his own fingers into his chest to rip out his heart, screaming as he plunged hard to break ribs. Hoping the demoness would grant him immortality before the last of his blood spilled to let the wet warmth coat the ground, the coldness of death replacing it. But her soft sweet laughter joined with the screams. All of his wishes were for naught. He would be given nothing from her because she had already gained what she needed from him. His eternal soul, his blood, his death. His damnation.
'I wish there was a way
For you to see inside of me'
This was what she was. This was what she craved. Destruction and death in manners she chose and thought fitting. Not the planned destruction the oracle desired, wasting time and delaying talents. There should not be limitations on the art of chaos... Not the uncontrolled crumbling the other demon created which could fall back on her. There was no deep motivation and logic save for destruction... of everything but herself. Something which she could not have since she was indebted to the ones who summoned her and therefore must abide by their plans for mass destruction. There were even laws she must abide by so long as she was in the form which they provided. She was a creature unlike all, the embodiment of fear and loathing and everything else. And such things were not patient beings... but they were devious... and intelligent.
The pale morning light fell over the girl as she made her way through the streets of Tokyo... even with all of her killing that night, not a single drop of crimson was on her dress. Not difficult when bodies were drained before being crushed and pierced. But demons were also curious beings in their own ways, delving into the deeper inner psyche of humans just to destroy them much easier. Curiosities could be dropped just as easily as they were picked up. She was also a creature sensitive to the elements... though hardly psychic powered like the ones who had called her, the demon residing in the form of Fujimiya Aya could sense things. And one thing she sensed now was something of another realm... something the living would never accept. Stories of the undead living among the upper world traveled even down to the inner depths of hell where she came forth.
And she sensed something not from this realm... or the next. But another, far above her reach. So damn her if she was curious. Deep midnight blue eyes peered curiously at the rising sunlight shining on the closed shoppe front of Koneko, the girl standing a block away. Staring at the building that had housed the ones so crucial to Schwarz's plans at one time... Curious though, could ones from another realm figure into the living oracle's visions?
Figuring there was only one way to truly find out, the girl stayed where she stood. Just waiting to see what would happen next. What an interesting day this could prove to be.
(We don't own 'What Do I Have To Do'. Stabbing Westward does.)
--
Only once he had assured himself that his slowly made admission was, indeed, true did Hisoka fall in step with Ran's, keeping a touch to the side and a half pace back from the other. Pale pools of green still kept attention on their surroundings, his loss of the cursed feeling hardly translating into complete defeat in searching out the other. They were still nearby, or had been before everything faded; he would find them, even if he had to rely on luck alone. He was well overdue for some good luck, so there was still hope in that.
There were times when Hisoka forgot how unnerving his empathy could be for others. Being a gift he could simply not shelve and ignore for hours at a time, the youth had been forced to accept the sheer existence of it. Through that, as inadvertent as it was, he learned to live first around it, and then with it. No good came of denying the existence of his empathy, something he learned long ago. His parents had tried to forget it existed, but that had not erased it - all that had resulted was the lesson that he would have to learn to live with it, and being locked up in a room all his life for it. Overall, it was easier to simply accept the gift than to be bitter for it - his bitter anger was better directed elsewhere anyways.
However, as a result of his casual acceptance of the gift, sometimes Hisoka failed to notice the counsel he took from it. There were times when he simply acted on the impulse of another, or perhaps felt their surface impression and answered unspoken questions or insecurities. Such as the present, when Ran's sudden emotional pain flared up and into his own mind, carrying with it soft images of the man's faint fears. The upset of being the leader who led them to death, the insecurity ever associated with being rejected, and the thoughts of how they would accept their deaths, and perhaps not his. It was breeding grounds for an eternal problem; something that Hisoka did not have the patience to deal with.
"They'll get used to being dead," he said suddenly, speaking as though replying to something Ran had said, when there had been nothing but silence. "And they'll know it wasn't your fault. Unless you shot them, or ran them through, or whatever, you're not at fault. The only murderer is the demon that was summoned, and that's what has to be dealt with. Stop worrying about it and give them some bloody time; twelve hours means nothing when they have countless years to think about it."
Lapsing back into silence, Hisoka brought his green gaze back towards the street, spying a dark-haired girl roughly his age standing on the corner that they were approaching. Tilting his head, he felt a faint curiosity from her filtering into his mind. There was also a bit of proud defiance in her aura, which stood out sharply against the sheer darkness that was the rest of her apparent soul. There counted only two times in his life he had ever felt such lack of humanity in anything, the first being Muraki and the second being one of the four lords of Hell when it had possessed Tsuzuki. All-encompassing darkness, a pure evil that craved destruction and hid so well in the body of innocence. It was more than enough to snap him alert. Holding out a hand to the side, a signal for the other to stop, Hisoka rested his other hand on his rip, seeming quite casual. If his sense of direction was still functional then the girl was looking at the street with the assassins' home, and flower shoppe. With the feeling of darkness about her, he decided to assume she was staring at the Koneko. "They aren't open yet," he said bluntly, hardly expecting any sort of surprise from the young woman. With the sort of otherworldly void about her, he figured that she well knew of his approach. "So you're not welcome here at all."
--
Distracted was hardly the word for it.
Sapphire eyes, widened in surprise at the words and actions, stared at Youji for a moment while the youth's jaw hung slightly open. That had been unexpected, roughly on the level of finding Youji in Ken's room, wearing a pair of Ken's pajama pants. Both left Omi in quite the state of uncertain surprise, with no real response to them necessary. Certainly, he should have expected some joke to come from Youji, perhaps suggesting his had a perverted mind from surfing all those porn sites that the playboy sometimes seemed convinced he did - which, he would truthfully defend that he did not do - but to see and hear the seductive shift in the other's manner was something he wasn't accustomed to. Worst of all, it was getting harder to tell when Youji was being a tease or being quite serious.
Mental note was made that turning eighteen made one a perfect target for the playboy's teasing. Omi figured that a rejuvenating formula of sorts might back him down again to the more stable land of hacker porn teasing. He wasn't sure if this whole new land of seductive teasings was something he was up to handling.
Coughing, he refocused himself on the matter at hand: The Summoner's Division. Not Youji and the confusing matter of where the playboy drew the teasing line, but rather the important matter of their deaths and what Kritiker had told them about.
Still blushing somewhat, the red shade having touched his cheeks shortly after Youji's actions, Omi cleared his throat and glanced at the sheets Youji was looking through. "I didn't dig it up so much as Manx set it to me," he explained quietly, not wanting to wake up Ken, if his friend was indeed still sleeping. "I tried looking online for anything about the Shinigami or EnmaCho, but all I found were stories without evidence. Stuff about Meifu and ghosts, that sort of thing. Then I got this -" pausing, he pointed to the papers in the playboy's hands, "- in an email. It's new orders from Kritiker explaining that the Summoner's Office does exist and that we are now to work with their agents and accept what they told us last night."
Trailing off, he waiting for that to sink in before speaking again. The next words he had to say were something that could be called unbelievable, but he had found proof to the contrary. It was real, except extremely hard to accept, especially for him. "Like I said, Manx sent it to me," he added, his voice echoing a certain source of hesitation. "I double-checked, the lines were true. But... She's not supposed to work for Kritiker anymore, Youji-kun. Her ties with the organization were severed after Persia died. Not really knowing what to do, I looked further into the source of the email, and you'll never guess where it came from. Persia's office, with his personal authorization coded to it. It's real, Youji-kun... We're dead, and he's telling us that we are."
Letting his words fade, Omi bite his lip lightly, shifting his weight more onto one foot as he wrapped his arms across his stomach. The meaning of what he had just said was still settling in his mind. There was only one person that had known how to attach Persia's authorization codes to anything, and that had been Takatori Shuuichi, Persia himself. Omi's own uncle, for that matter, who had died in his arms when they went to kill Reiji for their 'final' mission. It was a death he had dealt with, putting his family behind him with that last relative gone. Now, though, he wasn't sure what to think.
Ken on the other hand was a moderate sleeper. It took a little longer than Youji to awaken. He'd gotten as far as Youji's question about Omi's gathered information when he woke up. He just hadn't felt like actually moving. Instead he listened through closed eyelids at what the two... or rather Omi was calmly pointing out.
Sitting up he rubbed at his eyes and shook a hand through his shaggy hair. There. Hair groomed for the day. Padding quietly over to the assemblage at his door, Ken scratched at his abs before puling up the cotton biker shorts up to a more modest level. He really had to pee but that could wait. And did he really have to pee or was it just that habitual sensation of having to go really bad in the morning.
Well if they suddenly found themselves standing in a puddle, they'd have their answer, wouldn't they.
Yawning a bit he poked his head under Youji's arm to stand in front of him. Damn lanky bastard taking up the whole door way. "So does that mean Persia is one of us? That would explain why we kept getting missions from him even after we all nearly saw Reiji kill him."
"Ken I didn't know you were so coherent in the morning! Nice of you to wake up."
"Bite me Kudou."
"Like you did last night?"
Ken's eyes practically bulged out of his head at that, "WHAAAAT?!"
"Come on. The secret's out. Omi knows we're sleeping together and I just invited him into my harem. Aya's next."
"We're not... I'm not... Ew! No. OMI!!! Hey! Hands off Aya or I'll kill you!"
Grinning Youji turned his attention back to Omi. "See why we're not screwing each other Omi? Ken has the hots four our little Aya."
Ken turned and swiftly banged his head on the doorjamb in mock agony. "Why me. If I weren't already dead I'd be wishing it now. All we need now is for Aya to walk in."
The exchange between Youji and Ken was enough to drag Omi out of the little spiral of thoughts that had claimed him since realizing that Persia was the source of the new information. Depression and immersion in memories of what it had been like to be the odd-one-out on the team and related to the Takatori bloodline was nothing to aim for, therefore the light smile touching his lips after the little stretch of teasing was more than welcome.
"Daijoubu, Ken-kun," he said warmly, reaching out and putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, supportive as ever. There wasn't much more that he could contribute beyond saying that it was fine, since he had little-to-no experience in the sort of territory Ken was entering in terms of infatuation (or whatever term better suited it). After all, he had a grand history of Ouka and nothing else, and that was hardly suitable for founding sage advice. Anyone using a relationship ending in discovery of blood relation and then death for advice could generally be called insane, and Omi was not that.
As much as Omi would have liked to dwell on the topic and make sure Ken was okay, or see if there was anything he could do to help, Omi well knew that there were more important matters at hand. Weiß's new ordered association with the Shinigami was the major one, followed closely by whether or not said assassins would be okay to work with that.
"Maybe I should go show the information to Aya-kun," he ventured slowly, his mind working through the possibilities of what they could do next. "And check to make sure our visitors are still around; they have as much a right to know this information as we do." Sighing softly, Omi glanced towards Ran's door, hesitating in his resolve slightly. After the incident between the redhead and Ken the night before, the genki youth was not sure how sane it would be to try to approach the stoic assassin. Then again, the moods of others hadn't always stopped him from bringing information or questions that plagued him in the past, but with Ran, it was a more delicate matter. He'd precariously walked the line of the other's patience before, when he'd been trying to resolve his own troubled family ties, and he didn't like to upset the katana wielder any more than necessary.
--
Walking along slightly in front of the other male without a complaint, Ran glanced back at him at his reply to something he hadn't voiced. His pale lips parted but then he just continued walking, knowing all too easily that he was an empath. That was definitely going to take some getting used to. He just shrugged softly and continued walking, unfazed for now by the man's assurances it wasn't his fault or the thought that it was now. Ran was a very odd in many senses of the word... he sometimes it seemed wasn't content to go on unless he had something to avenge, or something to criticize himself for. The man seemed to thrive on angst and loss and pain like no other, every hurt he felt just pushing him on harder and further and stronger than before. Though he wasn't really pleased with the idea of his trusted team despising him and looking at him in anger for his indirect cause of their deaths, it wasn't going to really ever stop the male. Just give him something else to brood about.
He didn't reply to Hisoka's words as they just continued on down the sidewalk, moving past people easily with his hands slipped into his pants pockets. As they neared Koneko he wouldn't have been able to continue forward motion even if he had wanted to, his muscles falling still and frozen as he caught sight of the dark haired girl just half a block away. Ran couldn't yet see her face or profile but the long cascades of raven's wing hair were unmistakable, though he was used to seeing those silken tresses pulled into long plaits about her shoulders.
Deep violet eyes just stared for a moment at the girl's back, a light glare being sent Hisoka's way on instinct for his rude words to her. That was his sister... the one he'd started all of this for...
As expected, the girl was hardly surprised at all by the pair's approach and she turned at Hisoka's words, regarding him with dark blue eyes. A light breeze moving down the street stirred her hair as she peered at the two. The blonde's arrogant slightly defensive stance was noted but Aya's gaze fell more on the redhead who was staring at her as if she were some beautifully blessed and long sought after beacon of light in the pitch darkness. Though the true Fujimiya Aya was still locked deep in her own mind in an endlessly repeating pleasant dream of laughter and smiles, the demon knew a few basic facts of the host form it held.
One very prevalent fact being the one that she was now facing the only remaining family member of this vessel. A very... dead family member at that.
"I didn't come here for flowers," she replied in a soft quiet voice, casting her eyes down to look up at the two demurely through her lashes, toeing her shoe innocently and shyly against the ground. Her soft melodic tones were different from what Schwarz heard, the pitch sweeter and losing some of that timeless quality her dark age had given her, letting the feminine tones seem to reverberate down to the very depths of one's soul and chill it. She figured the full power of her voice wouldn't fit with what she had here in front of her. Wouldn't match the part of the innocent imouto she could play.
"Oniichan..." Her voice was just a soft whisper as the wind tossed her hair in front of her face, hiding the darkness of her irises. She knew all of the redhead's attention was already on her so she had no need to repeat her little trick of pulling all eyes to her.
Eyes that had been glaring at the other Shinigami returned to look at the girl at the soft whisper, it taking every bit of his willpower to not just run to her and gather her in his arms. Holding her close and letting nothing harm her or ever take her away. After so long he was finally seeing her standing right there before him... the early morning light seeming to glow on her dress and giving her a light of her own. Making her look like a fallen celestial being standing among the mortal. When she was really as far from one as one could get...
He took a few steps forward, smiling at the girl softly as she turned to face them, the white flowing skirt billowing about her lean legs like a ballerina's skirt. Every single moment done with an unnatural grace. But it was the dress that caught and held his attention for an extended moment, making the slight bit of warmth which had blossomed run cold. He could easily remember seeing a dress similar to that on a dark haired girl... just before crimson blood flowed and chaos poured thick and death coated over them all. "You're not my sister..."
Jade eyes narrowed, suspicion of the girl - or rather the creature, as he assumed with the hints so blatantly defined to him - clearly tainting the captivating depths. Her innocent act was persuasive, he would admit that, but the depth to which her voice touched him woke him from whatever captivation the sweet nature could have held him in. Her pure essence phased through his mind, leaving him feeling colder than ice, telling him of the endless void that should have been the warmth of a human soul and emotion.
Intent on the form of Aya, Hisoka managed to remain clear of Ran's surprise, his mind too busy simply dealing with the darkness to be taken by the other's shift in mood. That hardly freed him from experiencing sensations and certain images from Ran, of a family, warmth, comfort, and protection. Things long lost, destroyed many times over by forces beyond his control. All of it focused around the form of the girl, someone who was not who she apparently seemed.
"No, it's not," he said quietly, in a half-conscious response to Ran's statement. Risking a momentary look to the other - risk in that Aya had been moved to 'enemy' status due to the sheer coldness housed in the body thus had to be treated as dangerous - Hisoka made no move to disguise his own return glare to Ran for the response the redhead had started at his own actions. There were times when empathy could prove further use, in showing him the first reaction anyone had to a situation; it was the first impression that showed the truth of the person, and not the carefully schooled verbal response. Something that he knew and used to keep from being betrayed ever again.
However, he could go into that later. First there was a young woman to deal with, one with a dark soul and only god knew what powers and purpose.
"Then why are you here?" he asked bluntly. "If not for flowers, you must want something."
"Oh but I am," the girl said in her soft sweet voice in reply to Ran, darkened blue eyes blinking softly at Hisoka's 'get lost' words other as if in confusion. The redhead's initial reaction to her sweet kind appearance had been encouraging, the exact type of thing she was looking for and even though it passed, it was enough to make her keep up that appearance to throw him off guard. She decided then what she did want from her little trip here. Even though she was a bit outnumbered, she wasn't worried in the least. Worst came to worst she could run or take flight if these Shinigami proved a bit more than she judged.
Even as she kept up the cute demeanor, inwardly she smiled. Humans really were so simple and pathetic in their own ways. But this one... he wasn't truly a -threat- in her world, but the existence of someone who cared so very much for the being who originally had this body could prove to be troublesome in the future. Not enough to break the true Aya out but someone like that would be best to be watched... and under the demoness' own control. There were really two clear purposes for a demon brought forth: destruction and possession. Possession if done right could be a smaller and more creative form of destruction, owning a person completely they'd follow one's every command. Even if that command is to ruin and destroy everything they once loved.
And she wanted to own this one who so loved her host body. If things went well, she would be walking away from here with a new little pet who'd protect her against his former friends if they came out. He'd be entertaining on the plane ride to Germany she and Schwarz were supposed to go on later today.
Invisible powers flexed out from her to wrap around Ran to the very core, trying to tighten around his very soul so she could pull it to her grasp and possess him. Instead of the cold powerful void one usually felt when she did this, she tried to give a feeling of warmth, a final long awaited reunion with his sister. This always went so much better if they were willing and didn't fight the soul possession. "I am your sister, Ran... Come be with me. We can be together, forever... Come away from here and just be with me."
As she continued to strengthen her hold on him and tried to coax him to allow it, a tiny smile was sent Hisoka's way in reply to his question though she didn't speak any words. She wanted simply what she wanted. And it couldn't be found in any store. And she would allow little to stop it.
Ran sighed softly as he felt the girl's powers wrap about him, soft and comforting but...wrong. Everything was wrong. Her reaction to seeing him finally, even the confident way she held herself. His sister had always been shy and used him as protection, usually holding to his arm when they met people they didn't know. With a quieter confidence as this one had. The warmth was nice but he was still resistant. The resistance grew as he felt her experimentally tug at his very soul, causing a flash of pain to go through him, his body fighting that separation and his own natural powers which hadn't come to full awakening trying to strengthen his soul to protect himself. His knees shook lightly and he put out a hand to lean against the wall, still feeling the pulling as the demon was determined to get what she wanted even if he didn't want to give it.
"Iie..." was all he managed to say, his hand on the wall closing into a fist, a light glance going to Hisoka, the slight pain showing in his violet eyes that the empath was already most likely experiencing from him as the demon attempted to pull his soul to her own hold.
--
The penthouse apartment was quiet. Waking up from his light sleep, Brad looked blearily at the ceiling, letting the images and visions that had wormed their way into his sleeping mind fade. Sleep. The one thing that was both a blessing and a curse to the precog. It allowed him a way to rest and work the previous day's information out, but it also was the time when he was most vulnerable to the power of his sight. He didn't dream like normal people did; that part that gave him his visions also made sure of that.
When he was younger, Brad had wished to be normal. To have a loving family and good friends. To be able to dream and think about a wife and 2.5 kids and a dog. Not saddled with a gift that no one else believed in and to be considered crazy by all around him. The control he had over his ability had taken a lot of time and effort, so he had a good reason to flaunt it. Even though there were times when that power scared him.
Scared him because he dreaded to wake up without it. Or to find that he could no longer contain it.
Frowning at his rambling thoughts, Brad snagged his glasses from the nightstand and slipped them on, the world coming back into focus. Kicking off the blankets, he got to his feet, stretching the last of the kinks from sleeping before he went through his usual morning preparations. First some coffee, followed by a short shower, then pulling on a pair of sweat pants and going to their gym for an intense two-hour workout.
The rhythmic exercise of shadowboxing and hitting the punching bag helped in settling the visions of sleep into their proper places. It also relaxed tense muscles and was a far more satisfying way to vent previous frustrations than taking the way of other members of Schwarz. He was not about to go hunting for a warm body to fulfill his carnal needs, nor did he feel the need to. Despite how much Schuldig muttered, being celibate was good for the leader of this particular wolf pack. It made him less likely to be influenced by anyone else.
He kept on moving through his practice, his body dripping with sweat by the time he was done, his black hair soaked and his glasses refusing to stay in place. He supposed that maybe he should get contacts for his boxing, but the glasses were useful props as well as allowing him to see properly.
Toweling off, Brad moved from the gym to the kitchen for some more coffee, knowing that soon Farfarello and Schuldig would be slinking back after their night of their fun. Aya was another question. So much was switching concerning the possessed girl that he wasn't sure what would be happening next. As much as Brad hated to do so, he had to wait for the visions there to become much clearer before he can move.
--
The decision to return and observe the house of the new dolls he wanted was turning out to be quite the efficient one.
Such Muraki decided as he approached the ledge of the roof, atop the building across from Koneko. His one natural eye, the eerie silver as unnerving as ever, gazed down upon the sight of his puppet, Schwarz's puppet, and the unclaimed one in their impromptu meeting. Glancing at the possessed young lady, he shrugged softly, correction himself. Aya was not so much Schwarz's puppet as she was a dangerous creature barely contained by them. One that they stood to lose for their inattention towards her power and worth.
The demon was a prize they deserved to lose, considering their disrespect for him the night before. The Irishman, in particular, had been most defiant in the face of their informational benefactor. Without Muraki, Schwarz would not have summoned the creature, and without the creature's arriving gift, they would not be immortal. Such said that a certain level of worshipping respect, or at least polite reverence for the man who held such information that passing tidbits were enough for immortality. But nothing of the sort had happened; instead there had been a verbal game of chess, and no catching of attention from the others. Even the sheer absence of one was like an insult. Certainly no way to treat the services he had paid them, and that which he could offer them through an alliance.
Considering the insolence that had been shown to him, no matter how slight it may have seemed, Muraki watched the scene below with interest. Perhaps a lesson was to be learned by Schwarz, and the situation could prove the teacher. He knew well that his chosen doll, the jade-eyed blond, had the ability to free the sleeping soul of the girl and through that reject the demon; perhaps that was something he could use to his advantage. The host had been touched by his power, to keep the soul asleep for the perfect summoning, and it would be simple for him to awaken her through that contact. No doubt it would alert his dear puppet, but that was simply a chance to take in order to reap the endless benefits of forced education. Besides, the boy was so amusing in his intense, uncontrollable anger, it would be interesting to watch his upset show.
Smiling in the mysterious, and oddly taunting, fashion he preferred, Muraki extended his influence once more. Had the moon been out it would have stained to a dark ruby, but for now no true evidence existed of his power. It was at a peak in the night hours, but more than sufficient to awaken his cursed dolls and let them know of his calling to them. The boy would likely realize first, but the girl would respond too. It just took time to awaken the sleeping soul.
--
Nearly every motion being made by the redhead was being mirrored at a slower rate in the blonde. Though free of the minds, Hisoka could feel the overwhelming grasp of the creature reaching out to his companion, knowing that the creature in the innocent form was trying to take something. Had it been anything physical, the jade-eyed youth would not have known the depth of the power's grasp, but the soul was metaphysical, linked to the mind. And, through that, linked to the emotions of the person. As such, the pain Ran felt indeed did phase to his being, bringing a cold sweat to his brow. He could feel the resistance of the other, the hurt that resulted in it, but there was nothing he could do but be silent witness to it.
At least, that was all he could do if he allowed himself to be swallowed by the other.
However, Hisoka had been careful to keep a small distance between he and Ran, habit telling him that in the face of even presumed danger it was smarter to stand alone, so that a partner or ally could be free of a direct hit, and vice versa. That distance saved him from reaching out to the other for support, leaving his legs the only support he had until he regained full control. Without the contact between them, Hisoka was distant, and sync he had experienced the day before almost impossible to reoccur. He had the space and will he needed to escape it.
"He said no," he spoke coldly, straightening slowly, anger showing in his gaze as it rested on the girl. "So let him be." Curling his fingers into a fist, the young Shinigami raised his arm, trembling slightly as he fought to keep his mind as his own. Summoning up the control over his spiritual energy, Hisoka let his arm drop at a slant, invisible force being released in the action. It was like a wave of formless power, the only sign of it being the path of cement being torn up by it as it drove straight towards the girl. That, though, was hardly sufficient to simply free Ran from the other; or, rather, it was up to the skill and power of the thing before them to deal with his counter-attack. With hope it would distract enough to free the redhead, but Hisoka was not known to be an optimist. His reaction had done what he needed, showing clear defiance in his own mind, and freedom that allowed him to regain control.
Prepared to follow his rare offensive with a barrier against physical counterattack, Hisoka froze. In the interim, almost unnoticed at first, the familiar burning had begun to dig into his very bones, unmistakable in origin. Muraki's power and influence, arisen once more, his own body an endless sort of signal to that. It wasn't so much in heat coursing through the marks on his body that caught his attention so much as it was the feeling in the girl before them. The similarity he had been tracking all night radiated off of her, the meaning of that clear. The victim he had been searching for was right before them, but was hardly what he'd expected.
The question was, what had Muraki done to her? Given her the powers, or made her a host for higher powers?
"What the hell are you?" he added, his voice picking up the dark taint of anger. Not directed at the demon, but at what had been done, and the intent want to know of it.
--
Things came into focus a few seconds later. With a muttered curse, Brad emptied his cup out in the sink and went to change into another of his cream colored suits. Once again the immaculate business man, Brad knocked once on Nagi's door then opened it, not caring if the teen was awake or not at that moment. They had a short space of time to work in, if they wanted to keep their precious demon right where they needed it otherwise the contract would be null and void.
And he for one did not want to find out how much damage their immortality could take.
"Nagi, we have an appointment to keep. Get dressed and come with me now."
Even as he spoke to the telekinetic, Brad dropped the outer layer of his silence, knowing that the German would be able to hear his mental commands even through the sea of humanity Schuldig heard every moment of his life.
//Schuldig, go to the Koneko without being seen and take Farfarello with you. You should be right across the street from our Berzerker right now. I want you to observe Miss Aya but do not interfere unless she looks like she's being beaten by the others there. I should be coming by in a few minutes but not in time for a fight if there is one. Do what you must in order to keep the demon right where it is.//
--
As the invisible outlash of power came at the girl, she dropped her curled hold on the leader of Weiß's soul, Aya having a few other things to deal with. Though she was a difficult little critter to kill, her host body was still flesh and blood and she needed time to focus on how to stop that power coming at her. Watching the concrete shatter as the concentrated power ripped through the air towards her, the demon just let out a little giggle and did a high gymnastic flip out of the way, using the rush of air to help move her backwards. Landing in a low crouch with a knee bent up to her chest and her other leg extended out and balanced on the ball of her foot, her hands pressed to the ground, she just stared with dark eyes at the oncoming outlash of power. The crack in the pavement and sidewalk came to an abrupt halt right in front of her, the energy just seeming to hit her and do nothing. The air in front of her wavered as if in a heat wave and she trembled lightly, taking in the concentrated power.
"So the stories of the Shinigami are indeed true..." she said in a low purr, staring hard at Hisoka through the endless void of her irises, the very depths of an emotionless dark hell in her eyes. "Not impressed." Punctuating her sentence, she released the sharp tremor of power back at the Shinigami, ignoring Ran for the moment. She'd get him soon enough. First she wanted to have a bit more fun with the one who attacked her. And yes... oddly enough the little demon was having fun. The power cresting out from her was hardly as focused and concentrated as it had been when thrown at her from the jade-eyed Shinigami, but that was truly to be expected. She was a destructive creature and was able to throw large amounts of power around. She really cared very little for how much noise the onslaught of energy moving out from her made. Destruction in her mind and abilities was to be... large scale. And she could do large scale. She -liked- large scale.
Feeling some of his stability return as the tight grip about the inner most part of his being was released, Ran thanked whatever was up there for the timing and quickly moved out of the way of the lash of uncontrolled nearly frenzied power. Not even wincing as it struck against a brick wall of a nearby building, he glanced over to the blond moving into a defensive pose, not sure if he was going to send another lash of power at the girl.
Even though it had made her release whatever hold was on him... he didn't know if he could watch that hit the slender petite form of his dear sister. What if the demon just decided to let it all rip the body it was housed in apart? That was his sister's body... the one he'd done everything for. The thought that the summoning had utterly destroyed his sister and all that was left was her body and the demon that called that its own... that thought was not possible in his mind. She -had- to be alive. He couldn't have failed her. Allowed her to be struck down into a coma. Allowed her to be killed by a demon and her sweetness corrupted and destroyed by utter evil.
"Hisoka!" he called out to the boy, his tones hard and authoritive. "You can't... hurt her." He knew how ridiculous that sounded and he glanced to the dark-haired female, watching her so he could see the next attack coming and hopefully avoid it. It had been bad enough to be killed by someone who looked like his sister. He didn't want it to happen again... or... if he even could be killed now that he was dead.
Giggling too brightly for the dark look in her eye, Aya centered her gaze on Ran once more. "See. He -likes- me." She was about to try to just yank harder on his soul to get it to be hers as he was faltering on being able to harm her, when a similar feeling to what the redhead had felt lurched through her. Blinking, she shifted to press her chest against her knee still in the crouched position so she could move readily, feeling a burning sensation flare in her chest as Muraki's influence took hold. An utterly disgusting little presence of sweetness and innocence and something that just needed to be obliterated was stirring deep inside. Something that had been sleeping for so long and had been easy to push into an eternal dream state.
The true Fujimiya Aya was waking up.
Footnotes:
New chapter, apologies for the delay. To make up for it, I'm going to upload more chapters than just this today.
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