In the Ashes of Jericho
By: Vain
12.25.01
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I don't own Yami no Matsuei or Hisoka or Oriya—Yoko Matsushita does. I simply enjoy covertly borrowing them, tormenting them for my own amusement, and then returning them and sneaking away again. Hehehehehe. Oryia's characterization is based on the anime series, not the manga, hence his perpetual relaxation ( ^_~ ) and this little work of art occurs about two months or so after the Kyoto Arch.
This contains sexual themes, and YAOI (YnM—duh), so if you're a prude, go away. And DO NOT flame me. Flamers are idiots.
Compliments, corrections, and constructive criticism are more than welcome, though. ^.^
Read and review please!
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"Chaos was the meaninglessness of day-to-day life,
and if we were to die right now,
our lives would have been nothing but meaningless.
~Anne Rice
The Vampire Lestat)-()-()-()-()-()-()-( )-()-()-()-()-()-()-(
Chapter Two:
How Do I Love Thee?
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Tap, tap, tap, tap . . .
Hisoka looked up from his book and arched an eyebrow.
Tap, tap, tap, tap . . .
He looked back down.
Tap, tap, tap, tap . . .
Hisoka looked up again.
Tap, tap, tap, tap . . .
The book slammed shut.
Tap, tap, tap, tap . . .
"Tsuzuki."
Tap, tap, tap, tap . . .
"Tsuzuki."
Tap, tap, tap, tap . . .
"Tsuzuki!"
Tap, tap, tap, tap . . .
"Damnit, Tsuzuki!!"
WHAM!!
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked over at the pair's desks while a confused Tsuzuki stared with wide violet eyes at his hand. Just a second ago, he could have sworn that he had been drumming his fingers against the desk. Now the back of his hand stung and Hisoka's hand was on top of his. He ignored the warmth that went through him at being in contact with Hisoka and gave his partner his cutest grin. "Heh . . ."
The boy glared at him sternly. "Tsuzuki, you are driving me insane."
Tsuzuki slid his hand out from beneath Hisoka's and rubbed the back of it absently. "I . . . Sorry, Hisoka."
The younger shinigami settled back in his seat and re-opened his book. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Hisoka looked up from his book and scowled darkly. "Now you're lying."
When Tsuzuki stared at his desk instead of answering, Hisoka closed his book, set it down on his desk, settled back in his chair, and crossed his arms and legs. "We solved the case. You've earned a break. You may as well relax—when do you think it's going to be slow like this again? No doubt Tatsumi will find some nice tedious paperwork for us to do soon enough."
He picked up his book again and the two sat in silence for a moment, then he looked up again. Tsuzuki was staring down at his desk forlornly and Hisoka had the rather nagging feeling that things weren't quite right.
He gingerly reached out with his empathy and involuntarily clenched a fist as his mind was inundated with other people's emotions. He grimaced and plowed forward anyway, determined to discover what had so upset his partner. When he found the place where Tsuzuki's mind should have been, it felt like a wall of solid steel: hard, smooth, impregnable, and cold. His retreated hastily and put up his shields.
"Ai . . . Tsuzuki . . . What's wrong?"
Tsuzuki looked up again and pasted the smile back on his face. "Nothing," he repeated, raising his hands as though to ward off the words. "It's nothing, Hisoka. You know me—"
"Yes, I do, Tsuzuki. Which is precisely why I know that you're lying to me. And lying badly."
The other man looked down at his desk again and Hisoka scowled, a warning tone leaking into his voice. "Tsu~zu~ki . . ."
He shied back. "Soka-chan—"
"Don't call me that."
"Hisoka, I'm fine!"
" . . ."
"Honest."
When he only got a glare in response he smiled again and took an enormous bite out of the donut on his desk.
"BON!!!"
The glare deepened to a look Tsuzuki and Watari referred to as "The Glare" as Hisoka's green eyes flickered to the beaming blond scientist making his way across the room towards them. Watari was so preoccupied with not spilling a large, bubbling Erlenmeyer flask of milky blue fluid that he ran into several people on his way to the two shinigami's desks.
Hisoka eyed him and the suspicious flask warily. "Watari."
The blond beamed at them both and chirped in a singsong voice. "Good morning, Tsuzuki!! Good Morning, Bon!!" 003 cooed in greeting on his shoulder.
Hisoka's caution was not put to rest. His gaze latched onto the flask in his friend's hand. "Can we help you, Watari?
He regretted the question the minute he said it. Watari's honey-brown eyes flared with a pure glee that would have been borderline sadistic and more than a little bit insane in anyone else. The scientist grinned and leaned down towards the boy.
"Yes, you can, Bon!"
Hisoka narrowed The Glare to focus on the flask. "And what is that?"
"This?"
The question sounded utterly innocent and anyone who knew Watari knew that that spelled trouble. The blond waved the flask carelessly through the air as he gestured and the liquid within sloshed perilously close to the lip of the glass. "This is just a little something I've been working on. It's blueberry flavored—I think. You like blueberries, don't you, Bon? Tsuzuki said that you like blueberries."
The Glare was then turned upon Tsuzuki who responded with a rather dopey-looking grin. "You said that you loved those muffins, Soka-chan!"
Hisoka was close to grinding his teeth.
Watari closed his eyes in an expression of ecstatic joy and shoved the flask in the boy's face. "That's why I knew that you would love this!!"
"I don't love anything." Delicate hands rose and shoved the flask back towards Watari. "Especially not if it came out of your lab or Tsuzuki's kitchen."
Tsuzuki pouted and Watari wilted. Then the moment passed.
"But, Soka-chan—"
"But, Bon—"
"Don't call me that, baka. And no, Watari, I will not swallow that vile concoction."
"You're such meaney!"
"It's not vile!"
"Always have been, and yes it is."
"But—"
The clock struck twelve and Hisoka stood up so quickly that he nearly knocked Watari down. "Lunch break." The boy grabbed his jean jacket and pulled it on, turning to Tsuzuki. "Are you coming?"
Tsuzuki stood and shook his head. "I have to talk to Tatsumi. You go on ahead."
The emerald-eyed shinigami's lips tightened and his expression hardened. "Tsuzuki—"
He waved the boy away and started off towards Tatsumi's tidy little office. "I'll see you after break, okay?"
Hisoka glared ineffectually at his partner's back for a long moment before he turned away. "Fine then."
003 cooed and Watari watched the two shinigami walk off in either direction. "I have no idea," he muttered to the little owl on his shoulder.
He followed Tsuzuki and was somehow not the least bit surprised to see the dark-haired man duck into the lounge. Watari watched him coolly for a moment as he placed his hands on the counter and heaved a long, shuddering sigh. Watari shook his head. This was beginning to get ridiculous.
"Just tell him already."
Tsuzuki jumped and turned bright red. "Oi!! Watari, don't do that!"
The blond scientist entered the lounge and shut the door behind him, his face uncharacteristically stern. "Really, Tsuzuki! You're driving everyone up the wall, making Tatsumi-san crazy, and now you've just went and got Hisoka all worked up for blowing him off. Things would be so much better if you would just swallow your pride and tell him."
The violet-eyed shinigami twisted uncomfortably to avoid Watari's accusing eyes, a pained expression on his face. "But what if—"
Watari smiled and set the flask with the potion on the counter. "Tsuzuki . . . Hisoka is your friend. He cares about you. He ran through a wall of fire for you . . . You have nothing to lose."
"I could lose him . . ." Tsuzuki dropped his head so that his hair hid his face. "Watari . . . I've never kept a partner for so long and he's so . . . so . . ." He clenched his hands. "If I lost Hisoka I think I'd just die, Watari."
A chill ran through the scientist as Tsuzuki looked up, his eyes looking blank and glassy. "I couldn't lose him."
The door opened and Tatsumi walked in. Both shinigami froze, startled as the Secretary of Hell pour himself a cup of Green Tea. He poured in some honey, stirred it up, and then fixed Tsuzuki with a harsh look of reproach. "Then go find him and talk to him."
The violet-eyed shinigami turned away. "I . . . can't."
"You won't." The light glared sharply off Tatsumi's glasses as he adjusted them on the delicate bridge of his nose. His expression didn't change one iota. "I've never known you to be such a coward, Tsuzuki-san."
For an instant Tsuzuki stiffened as though he'd been struck, but then his shoulders slumped once more. "Yes you have, Tatsumi."
Tatsumi's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he said nothing as the slightly shorter man slunk out of the room.
Watari frowned slightly at his co-worker after Tsuzuki was gone. "How tactful."
The dark-haired man grunted and walked over to a box of pastries that had miraculously survived Tsuzuki's morning raid. "He's dragging his feet."
The scientist snorted. "That's no reason to beat him over the head. He already feels bad enough, all things considered."
"I want him to be happy, Watari."
"I want them both to be happy," the blond replied with a hint of challenge in his voice, "but even I know better than to try to remove this particular fly from his forehead with a hatchet."
If Tatsumi had been a lesser man, he would have flinched. Instead he merely dumped out his tea and turned around with a scowl that normally sent any sane person running to the hills.
Fortunately, Watari did not exactly classify as a sane person. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Tatsumi adjusted his glasses again, a nervous habit he'd never quite been able to break.
"What are you suggesting, Watari-san?" the Secretary asked in a decidedly chilly voice.
Watari smiled sweetly. "Nothing. I'm just saying that Tsuzuki is still . . . delicate. Even more so than usual. Just one wrong move . . ." his voice trailed off suggestively and he adjusted his own glasses in a gesture that was almost mocking. "Well," he said softly, "it could be very bad, you understand. And even with his empathy, Bon is not one to notice or understand something like this unless it's forced down his throat first. It's actually quite obvious if you consider his life experience. As far as I can see, he's never known a kind word and his only experiences with intimacy were quite . . . unpleasant." His honey-colored eyes bored into Tatsumi for a moment. "You do understand, don't you?"
Tatsumi said nothing else and after a moment Watari turned and walked out of the room with an inaudible sigh of disgust. And people wondered why he spent all his time in the lab . . .
003 hooted curiously on his shoulder and the scientist rolled his shoulders uncomfortably as he pushed open the door to his lab.
"He's angry," he told the little owl in regards to Tatsumi. "And frustrated."
He closed the door behind him and scowled slightly, the unusual expression marring his face for the briefest instant before vanishing. 003 flew off his shoulder to perch on what used to be a blender as the blond shinigami flowed over to a cluttered counter and began rooting around in the lower cabinets.
"But you're right," he continued, his voice muffled by the cabinet. "There's more going on than meets the eyes. Even with Bon." He found what he was looking for—a corroded D Cell battery—and stood. When he turned back his companion, his golden eyes gleamed and his smile was almost feral. "But until they get their acts together, this does certainly promise to be an interesting ride, neh, 003?"
003 hooted in agreement.
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Their swords leaned against a bench and they were both sitting down in the grass, Hisoka leaning back against Oriya's chest. The older man's arms were wrapped around the boy in a gently protective embrace and Hisoka's slender arms were pressing Oriya's close to him. Occasionally his delicate fingers would move to trace small, intricate patterns on his lover. The youth sighed and tilted his head back a bit to stare the blue sky, a foreign expression of peace soothing his fragile features. The wind blew and sakura petals fluttered to the ground like pink snow.
"It's beautiful here," he murmured.
Oriya squeezed him tightly and nodded, his long hair shifting with the motion. "Yes." He looked down into his lover's face and smile benevolently. "You pushed yourself hard today. It everything alright?"
The boy snuggled back into the man's arms. "I . . . it's Tsuzuki. I'm worried about him. He seems to be angry with me."
"Do you know why?"
"No." Hisoka sighed in frustration and tilted his head back a bit more to feel the sun on his face. "He won't let me in."
Oriya was silent for a moment. "Do you love Tsuzuki-san?"
The question caught Hisoka off guard and he stiffened. "Love? What do you mean 'love?' "
Oriya shrugged slightly and loosened his grip so that Hisoka was free to escape if he wanted to. "Love. How do you feel about him? Do you like to touch him? Hold him? Do you make excuses to be near him? Do you forgive him things that you would never for—"
"Do you love Muraki?"
Oriya sighed. "I don't know. Things were never like that between us . . . we didn't talk so much."
Hisoka snuggled closer to the older man, his eyes locked on the green grass. "But you were lovers, right?"
He didn't need to look up to know that Oriya was nodding his head. "Yes. We were lovers."
"And you would accept him again if he returned to you?"
"Yes. I would. Does that mean that I love him, though? I know him. I understand him. I admire him . . . But do I love him? I don't know. I did love him, but I don't know if it's how you mean. I would have died for him, though, and done so happily. I will always accept Kazutaka. Nothing can change that. Would you accept Tsuzuki-san if he walked in here and told you he loved at this very moment?"
Hisoka closed his eyes. "Tsuzuki would never do that."
A sigh left Oriya's lips and he pulled the boy closer. "But you would accept him, neh? This is our fate, I think. Our penance."
A shiver wracked Hisoka's small frame then and Oriya bent down and gently kissed the boy's neck, suckling on the flesh until a small bruise blossomed. A soft moan slipped past Hisoka's lips and he closed his eyes, tipping his head back for better access and lifting one hand to grip Oriya's hair. The man obligingly nipped at the bruise and lightly ran his tongue over the abused skin.
Hisoka inhaled shakily. "You're trying—ah!—to distract me."
"Mmmm." Oriya lifted his head up and smiled faintly. "Is it working?"
He received a half-hearted glare in response. "You're nothing but a con artist."
Both his hands slid down to the space between Hisoka's legs and one hand began to stroke the inside of his thigh as the other one started to rhythmically squeeze the youth's growing hardness through his jeans. He smiled in gratification when his ministrations elicited as small whimper of need and his lover lifted his hips slightly, seeking to increase the contact. "So is it working?"
"Mmm . . . Yesss . . ."
Oriya kissed him then, slowly shifting their positions until Hisoka was lying on his back on the grass and he was on top. The youth's hair splayed around him and the sunlight turned it golden, giving off a halo affect. He looked pristine—pure and innocent and untouched—more like a creature of myth than something real, solid, and very much alive beneath him. The youth stared up and his emerald eyes seemed to blaze with an inner fire that made Oriya want him all the more.
His flower bud lips parted. "What?" The word was a breath and Oriya felt something in him melt at the sound. Hisoka blinked and blushed a lovely scarlet. "Is something wrong, Oriya?"
"You're a virgin."
Hisoka blushed at the wonderment in the other's voice, awkward and flustered. "Y—Nuh—I . . . He—"
"He," Oriya interrupted gently, "did what he did without your consent, little love. He took. You never gave him anything." He leaned down and whispered the words with a gentle accent as though the effort could make Hisoka understand. "He took, little love, and you . . . You are pure and clean and so lovely . . ."
Hisoka turned his head to the side so that he didn't have to look into Oriya's eyes. ". . . How could you care for him so much?"
"I don't know. It's who I am." Oriya tilted his head to the side. "He was a monster: yes. But I loved him nonetheless. I can love a monster." He leaned down. "Just as I can love death. Just as I can love you, little god of death." Hisoka's eyes widened and Oriya smiled as he stared into the shocked boy's face. "Shhhh . . . Don't say anything. I look at you, my little love, . . . I look at you and I see my own mortality. I look at you . . ."
Hisoka wrapped his arms around Oriya and leaned up, burying his head in the slope of Oriya's neck. "Shut up, Oriya. Just . . . You're such a . . ."
Oriya smiled again and held him close.
A sudden beep made them both jump. Hisoka raised a wrist and frowned at his watch.
"Oi!! Let me up. Lunch break is over and I have to get back."
The older man reluctantly crawled off him and stood, helping the other to rise to his feet.
"You shouldn't have skipped lunch," he chided.
Hisoka shrugged. "I never really eat anyway. Besides, I can just grab something at the office."
The brunette turned and bent down to collect the swords. "Be sure you practice you lunge stance. And watch your left side—you left it wide open."
"I will. Goodbye, Oriya."
"When will—" He turned around and the words died on his lips. Hisoka was gone.
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