Disclaimer: The wonderful world of YnM is not mine. belongs to a certain
talented person whose name is too holy for me to utter here. what am I
saying? Ah well. let's just say that I do not own YnM. I'm just making
things worse.
Author's note: To those who reviewed my fic, I must give a huge thankyou and and even bigger apology. I'm so sorry to not have updated this fic for such a long time. how long? *thinks* Five to six months? Ahhhh. you see, my computer was wiped and so I lost all the chapters I've been working on. grrr. and then I had to start again and due to school work, I was unable to continue this fic for a long time. Gomen and forgive me. *sniff* I'm so sorry.
Chapter 1- Never say Fear
************************
Hisoka calmly browsed through the books on the shelf, fingers grazed softly over the spines as his eyes swept swiftly over the names. He sighed as he dropped his hand. Having read almost all of the books in the library, and because of Tsuzuki's latest disaster with the library, the GuShoShin brothers had solidly refused to order new reading material until the purple- eyed idiot payed for the damage.
Tsuzuki... it all comes back to Tsuzuki Asato. Always. And Hisoka is just a pawn in the dangerous game of his partner's dark life. Except nothing involving Muraki had arisen recently and Hisoka had begun to wonder whether he would ever get a chance to destroy the bastard. Yet he knew better than to lower his guard, knowing full well that the homicidal maniac would wait for one of his victims to loosen their wariness and then, when least expected and all seemed safe, the net drops.
Sighing again, Hisoka decided to head for home. It was late, well past midnight and he certainly wouldn't want an over worried Tsuzuki fussing over him the next day, enquiring as to why he didn't rest properly and call Watari to examine him. At least it wasn't Muraki...
The petite boy allowed himself a little smile at the irony, walking silently out the door. The full moon above him illuminated his way a little and some of the heat left over from that hot summer day remained.
Despite this, as Hisoka approached his apartment, he could not help but shudder. Something was wrong. The air around his small accommodation was wrong. Frowning, and ever so cautious, Hisoka opened the door... and gave a tiny sigh of relieve. There was no one in his apartment.
Taking off his shoes, he tiptoed into his room. But, as soon as he set his foot down, he regretted it. The dark scent of death hung over the whole room and Hisoka nearly collapsed from the intensity of the feeling of doom. He knew, then, what it meant.
The door behind him clicked shut, locked and silence settled in again. Hisoka could feel his own breathing, hear the booming pounding of his heart and the painful throbbing of fear in his head. No... he couldn't show it... he wouldn't...not ever... not to that person at least.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He smiled at the sound of the door closing, letting his soon-to-be victim get a feel of what was to come later. There was no hurry. The brat would never be able to escape or call for help, not in the near future. The man by the window turned and focused his sight upon the frozen boy at the door.
'Welcome home, brat.' He said too softly, a touch of venom seething into the words. The sudden anger in the eyes of his puppet was too amusing for him not to laugh.
'What do you want... Muraki?' A boyish voice hissed at him after the laughter subsided.
'What else do you think?' Answered the amused voice, dripping now with poisonous lust. Slowly, deliberately, the silver haired man moved towards Hisoka, smiling that smile insane murderers get when they kill.
Grabbing Hisoka's arms, Muraki shoved them frightened boy unto the bed and settled comfortably over him. The older man licked his lips as he tasted the fear leaking through the emotions from the boy. He loved the taste of fear in his victims, especially tender, pretty ones like Hisoka because it made blood taste sweeter, riper, and richer. Muraki began to remove the annoying clothing as he kissed the small body beneath him, relishing in the delight of pain.
'Ahhh... Kurosaki...do you know how much I enjoyed that night? That delightful night under the full moon, crimson with the blood the darkness... just like tonight...' Muraki purred sensuously into Hisoka's ear.
Dragging a sharpened nail across Hisoka's bare chest, Muraki lapped up the blood the shallow cut produced, savouring the metallic richness. Heat gathered between his legs as he gazed lovingly over the pale skin, decorated most beautifully with the scarlet marks of the curse, almost glowing. With a feral grin, Muraki slit Hisoka's wrist, neck and thigh, carving over the curse sigils, twisting that fragile mind with his unrelenting hatred and laughing with the piercing screams of pain and fear. The blood flowed like a torrent, over him, over all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fear... the meaning of the word shrouded the violations that happened there, deepened the mysteries of the darkness. As the young boy screamed over and over again, his mind lost in the crimson sea of memories. Memories he'd been trying to forget for all this time, yanked to the surface so ruthlessly by the man who killed him many years ago.
He wanted to fight this, to drive the sadist away... back to the darkness, back to the place where he came from. His mind... so brittle and unbalanced, was ripped to pieces of crimson strips by Muraki's endless torture. Hisoka caught fragments of memories, those of joy and comfort he had... so precious now. They were all pulled away, into the whirlpool of fear and anger, engulfed by the perverse hungers of that man. No matter how hard he tried, Hisoka couldn't keep any of them with him, only the shards of red glass, slicing through his heart and soul, tearing away all that was valuable to him.
He clung to the edge, grasping for his memories... He screamed through the murky bloody sea... was it blood? His blood? The smell of sakura blossoms filled his lungs, lovely and deadly. The red haze that covered his mind reflected off the shining blade embedded in his flesh. Pain, blissful pain, seared through his consciousness and the hoarse whisper of a killer sealed the darkness within his mind.
Author's note: Waaa. that was terrible wasn't it? Well I just love bringing out Muraki's sadistic side to. amuse my humble self with. It'll also be appreciated if you review this story so far and give me a few advices and criticism. The flames would keep me warm on this freezing day. . *shiver*
Author's note: To those who reviewed my fic, I must give a huge thankyou and and even bigger apology. I'm so sorry to not have updated this fic for such a long time. how long? *thinks* Five to six months? Ahhhh. you see, my computer was wiped and so I lost all the chapters I've been working on. grrr. and then I had to start again and due to school work, I was unable to continue this fic for a long time. Gomen and forgive me. *sniff* I'm so sorry.
Chapter 1- Never say Fear
************************
Hisoka calmly browsed through the books on the shelf, fingers grazed softly over the spines as his eyes swept swiftly over the names. He sighed as he dropped his hand. Having read almost all of the books in the library, and because of Tsuzuki's latest disaster with the library, the GuShoShin brothers had solidly refused to order new reading material until the purple- eyed idiot payed for the damage.
Tsuzuki... it all comes back to Tsuzuki Asato. Always. And Hisoka is just a pawn in the dangerous game of his partner's dark life. Except nothing involving Muraki had arisen recently and Hisoka had begun to wonder whether he would ever get a chance to destroy the bastard. Yet he knew better than to lower his guard, knowing full well that the homicidal maniac would wait for one of his victims to loosen their wariness and then, when least expected and all seemed safe, the net drops.
Sighing again, Hisoka decided to head for home. It was late, well past midnight and he certainly wouldn't want an over worried Tsuzuki fussing over him the next day, enquiring as to why he didn't rest properly and call Watari to examine him. At least it wasn't Muraki...
The petite boy allowed himself a little smile at the irony, walking silently out the door. The full moon above him illuminated his way a little and some of the heat left over from that hot summer day remained.
Despite this, as Hisoka approached his apartment, he could not help but shudder. Something was wrong. The air around his small accommodation was wrong. Frowning, and ever so cautious, Hisoka opened the door... and gave a tiny sigh of relieve. There was no one in his apartment.
Taking off his shoes, he tiptoed into his room. But, as soon as he set his foot down, he regretted it. The dark scent of death hung over the whole room and Hisoka nearly collapsed from the intensity of the feeling of doom. He knew, then, what it meant.
The door behind him clicked shut, locked and silence settled in again. Hisoka could feel his own breathing, hear the booming pounding of his heart and the painful throbbing of fear in his head. No... he couldn't show it... he wouldn't...not ever... not to that person at least.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He smiled at the sound of the door closing, letting his soon-to-be victim get a feel of what was to come later. There was no hurry. The brat would never be able to escape or call for help, not in the near future. The man by the window turned and focused his sight upon the frozen boy at the door.
'Welcome home, brat.' He said too softly, a touch of venom seething into the words. The sudden anger in the eyes of his puppet was too amusing for him not to laugh.
'What do you want... Muraki?' A boyish voice hissed at him after the laughter subsided.
'What else do you think?' Answered the amused voice, dripping now with poisonous lust. Slowly, deliberately, the silver haired man moved towards Hisoka, smiling that smile insane murderers get when they kill.
Grabbing Hisoka's arms, Muraki shoved them frightened boy unto the bed and settled comfortably over him. The older man licked his lips as he tasted the fear leaking through the emotions from the boy. He loved the taste of fear in his victims, especially tender, pretty ones like Hisoka because it made blood taste sweeter, riper, and richer. Muraki began to remove the annoying clothing as he kissed the small body beneath him, relishing in the delight of pain.
'Ahhh... Kurosaki...do you know how much I enjoyed that night? That delightful night under the full moon, crimson with the blood the darkness... just like tonight...' Muraki purred sensuously into Hisoka's ear.
Dragging a sharpened nail across Hisoka's bare chest, Muraki lapped up the blood the shallow cut produced, savouring the metallic richness. Heat gathered between his legs as he gazed lovingly over the pale skin, decorated most beautifully with the scarlet marks of the curse, almost glowing. With a feral grin, Muraki slit Hisoka's wrist, neck and thigh, carving over the curse sigils, twisting that fragile mind with his unrelenting hatred and laughing with the piercing screams of pain and fear. The blood flowed like a torrent, over him, over all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fear... the meaning of the word shrouded the violations that happened there, deepened the mysteries of the darkness. As the young boy screamed over and over again, his mind lost in the crimson sea of memories. Memories he'd been trying to forget for all this time, yanked to the surface so ruthlessly by the man who killed him many years ago.
He wanted to fight this, to drive the sadist away... back to the darkness, back to the place where he came from. His mind... so brittle and unbalanced, was ripped to pieces of crimson strips by Muraki's endless torture. Hisoka caught fragments of memories, those of joy and comfort he had... so precious now. They were all pulled away, into the whirlpool of fear and anger, engulfed by the perverse hungers of that man. No matter how hard he tried, Hisoka couldn't keep any of them with him, only the shards of red glass, slicing through his heart and soul, tearing away all that was valuable to him.
He clung to the edge, grasping for his memories... He screamed through the murky bloody sea... was it blood? His blood? The smell of sakura blossoms filled his lungs, lovely and deadly. The red haze that covered his mind reflected off the shining blade embedded in his flesh. Pain, blissful pain, seared through his consciousness and the hoarse whisper of a killer sealed the darkness within his mind.
Author's note: Waaa. that was terrible wasn't it? Well I just love bringing out Muraki's sadistic side to. amuse my humble self with. It'll also be appreciated if you review this story so far and give me a few advices and criticism. The flames would keep me warm on this freezing day. . *shiver*