"I'm telling you, this is a wild goose chase," Hisoka said again, glowering out the airplane window.
"It's really not that bad, Bon, and you know, I think maybe you should try to get some sleep on this trip. You're looking a little peaked."
Hisoka turned to glare at Watari, who smiled back with an effortless cheer that almost made Hisoka feel guilty for being in a bad mood. Almost.
"I. Am. Fine," Hisoka said, and looked back out the window.
"If you say so, Bon; but if you want a sleeping draught or something tonight, just let me know - Tsuzuki said you've been waking up lots lately."
...Tsuzuki said? Argh; so people HAD been talking about him. Well, that was wonderful, just wonderful. Clenching his jaw, Hisoka determined to stay awake for the rest of the flight, refusing to say even another word. Perhaps his paranoia was justified.
Meanwhile, Tsuzuki, for his part, had never been on an airplane before. His wide-eyed curiosity was such that he couldn't stay in his seat, but instead had gone roaming around and asking questions. It was a sure thing that if he hadn't been quite as endearing, the stewardesses would have grown angry; as it was, however, they only wanted to adopt him.
"Oooh, and what does THIS do?" he asked.
"Well, this cabinet here opens up - like so - and contains all the tiny peanuts we'll be giving you for your journey," one of the stewardesses said, smiling her brightest and thinking what LOVELY eyes this young man had.
"Peanuts?" said Tsuzuki, growing slightly misty-eyed. "You're giving us FOOD?"
"...aww," the stewardesses said out loud without meaning to, and eventually sent Tsuzuki back to his seat loaded down with complimentary snacks. He couldn't possibly have been any happier.
The captain's voice came over the loudspeakers, mentioning some random information about the altitude and what could be seen outside the window. Hisoka scowled.
"Why the hell are we in an airplane, anyway?" he grouched to no one in particular. "We could just have GONE there."
"No, we had to have the experience," Watari said cheerfully, concentrated on folding his vomit bag into a swan. "It has something to do with fitting in at the shrine. They'll be able to tell, you know."
"No, I don't know. This is stupid."
Watari put his half-formed swan down and looked at Hisoka; for a rare, rare moment, he wasn't smiling. "Bon," he said quietly. "What's wrong with you?"
Hisoka was quiet for a long moment; his eyes turned toward the window and his gaze clearly somewhere else, he finally opened his mouth and started to answer.
"PEANUTS!" Tsuzuki announced, and flopped into the seat next to Watari.
Hisoka jumped; he served his partner a glare that would make titanium melt, and then went back to looking out the window. Tsuzuki, unaware of what he'd done to earn such a look, shrunk a little and looked guilty.
Watari was back to smiling; he knew Hisoka wasn't going to talk now. "Oooh, you got PEANUTS!!"
"Peanuts!" Tsuzuki reiterated, and began to share the wealth; Hisoka ignored the shiny packets they tossed into his lap.
"I don't know if they give this many to just anybody, so I think we really need to eat as many of them as we can so no one feels bad," Tsuzuki said, giving his personal philosophy. Watari nodded.
"Oh, well, of COURSE we can't disa-"
A new voice interrupted. "Disappoint? No, no, you don't want to do that. It would truly be heartless."
Tsuzuki and Watari turned; standing by Tsuzuki's seat, looking somehow even more pristine and lovely against the dingy off-white of the airplane's interior, was someone none of them had expected to see.
"...Muraki," Tsuzuki whispered, looking stunned, and Muraki moved right up against his arm rest.
"Tsuzuki-san," he purred, feathering his fingers lightly through Tsuzuki's hair, and Hisoka hissed.
"You!" Hisoka accused, and tried to lunge out of his seat without first removing the seatbelt; Watari, aware of the innocent and ignorant people around them, placed his hands on Hisoka and pushed him down.
"Oh, you must be Muraki," he said, holding the struggling Hisoka down with a frightening one-handed ease and placing his other hand on Tsuzuki for reassurance. "We didn't know you were here."
"I'm sure you didn't, or something would have happened already," Muraki said, looking highly amused. His eyes, always intense with that possessive brand of hunger, ranged over the three men before him. "I do hope Suzaku doesn't decide to visit us in here; there really isn't enough room to function, you know. These aisles - so cramped." And he stretched, arching his back and tossing his head in a way that earned him highly appreciative looks from other people in the cabin.
"Mm, that's nice," said Watari, clearly unimpressed. "Please go away now."
There was silence for just a moment; then Muraki smiled. "As you wish - ah, I don't know your name?"
"No, you don't," Watari said, and smiled quite brightly.
Muraki chuckled darkly. Turning back to his seat - and just brushing the skin of Tsuzuki's cheek with his fingertips as he did so - he continued chuckling, finally disappearing behind the curtain that led to first class without looking back.
"...how did he know? How did he...did he...." Tsuzuki was speaking quietly, but his voice was too high, edged with panic.
Hisoka's, on the other hand, had gone deeper; he growled. "Fucking bastard... I'm gonna kill him! Lemme go! Let GO!" And then he jumped; Watari's eyes were barely an inch from his own.
"Shhhhh," Watari said, one hand on his shoulder. "We're in public, Bon; you need to keep it down." His voice grew even more quiet. "And Tsuzuki needs your strength - all right?"
Hisoka stared for a moment, unused to this almost invasive closeness, and glanced beyond Watari to Tsuzuki.
Tsuzuki hadn't moved. His eyes locked onto the first-class curtain as though it were the gate to hell, he sat utterly still, hands gripping the arm rests, face pale, a spill of shiny silver peanut packs across his lap.
"Tsuzuki," Hisoka said. "Tsuzuki."
After a moment, Tsuzuki looked.
"It's all right. He can't get us. We won't let him. Okay?" Hisoka wondered if the lie he felt showed in his eyes; he dreamed of Muraki. And in his dreams, Muraki always won.
Tsuzuki latched onto the security Hisoka offered like a drowning man to a buoyant piece of wood. "Yes. Okay. I'm going to the bathroom now." And scooping up the peanuts, he scurried down the aisle toward the back and slipped into the restroom cubicle, locking the door behind him.
"I think he'll stay there for a while," Watari said lightly, and resumed trying to fold his swan. "Thanks. He appreciated that, you know."
"Yeah," Hisoka muttered, looking at his hands; they were clenched in his lap, trembling, and pale. Yes, for Tsuzuki's sake, he could be strong; but there were times he had to wonder if anyone would do the same for him.
The group of three standing huddled by the baggage claim was worthy of notice for a few reasons. They were beautiful, for starters; all stunning to a man, every angle and inch perfect and without flaw. Of course, the fact that they were also acting paranoid was a fairly effective deterrent to anyone who wanted to bother them.
One of the three, blonde, somewhat effeminate, seemed to be the calmest. "Oooh, poor 003," he said, darting forward quickly to pluck a small perforated box from the belt; he was back between the other two before most even registered he'd moved. "Mou, were they nice to you?" he spoke into the box, holding it up and peeking inside the air holes.
"All right, we're done," said Hisoka, looking around and clutching a dark blue duffle bag to his chest as though it contained something priceless. "I don't see him. Let's go."
"I... this isn't my bag," said Tsuzuki with a miserable quaver in his voice, looking more closely at the burgundy duffle bag he'd mistaken for his own. "That means we have to... we have to..."
"Was there anything in it that you can't replace in the local stores?" Hisoka demanded, and Watari started to say something.
"No, there wasn't - "
"Then let's go," Hisoka said, and Watari placed his hand on both Hisoka's arm.
"Now, fellows... you're freaking out a little," he soothed, trying for the logical course, but the look he received in response from both his companions made it clear there would be no further discussion.
"Ah... well, okay," he said, acquiescing, and without another word, Tsuzuki and Hisoka each grabbed him by one elbow and steered for the door. 003, his box tucked tightly under Watari's arms, flapped in an irritated manner.
"Mou, I'm sorry," Watari apologized to the uncomfortable bird as they left the airport. "I guess some things can wait for no man...."
Hisoka made a face. "Look," he hissed at them both. "Let's just GET a taxi, GET to the damned temple, and DO what we came here to do. Why we can't just transport, I don't know -"
"Energy traces!" Watari said cheerfully, and Hisoka continued.
" - but I say we get in there, get done, and get out. There's nothing here we need to look at, anyway."
Watari started to say something, and then suddenly, he lurched. "Oops!" he said, and came to a stop. "Are you all right, Tsuzuki-san?"
Tsuzuki didn't bother to answer because he'd was busy picking himself up off the floor. "I'm SO sorry!" he was exuding at the young woman whose boxes he'd tripped over, and proceeded to concentrate on trying to help her put them all back on her cart. The girl, for her part, was anything but upset; in fact, she seemed amused.
"I'm SO sorry, and - oh no, is this breakable? If it is, I'll pay for it, and ah, I didn't mean to sort of hold it too long I'm not a robber or anything oh here, let me get that..."
Hisoka sighed and rubbed his face. "Tsuzuki," he said, then gave it up. If Muraki wanted to catch them, he'd have had plenty of time by now; so this meant instead of directly attacking, he was stalking. Great; just great.
"Oh... no, I've got it," the girl was saying, plucking packages from Tsuzuki's arms and piling them back onto her cart; there were quite a few. The pile, nearly completed, was almost as tall as she was.
"Thank you for being so kind," she said, and Tsuzuki beamed.
"I'm sorry I knocked everything over - I hope it's all right," he said sincerely, and the girl smiled at him without blushing - quite a feat.
"Everything's fine. And I think your friends are waiting for you."
Tsuzuki turned to see Hisoka's impatient scowl and Watari's smile; he blushed and shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. "Eh... better go, now. Um... bye."
"Bye," she said, still patient, but not at all trying to be alluring, and Tsuzuki backed away. She watched him until he'd rejoined his friends and the three of them - huddling as if they expected demons to come out of the floor any minute - exited the building.
"Silly," she said quietly to herself, and resumed pushing her cart.
"You know you didn't have to do that," Hisoka said, apparently making up for his earlier stint of silence by twice as much arguing. Truth be told, he was frightened for Tsuzuki, and frightened badly; the appearance of Muraki always meant psychological and physical attacks on his partner, and although he would never admit it, he was worried.
"Well... YOU could have helped," Tsuzuki said feebly, and hunched down a little in his seat.
Watari, still between them, patted both their legs in the most absolutely non-sexual, comforting way imaginable. "Now, now... what's done is done. We need to get to the hotel and then see if we can schedule a tour for the temple tonight."
"...schedule a tour?" Tsuzuki asked, surprised. "Um... doesn't that seem a little... weird?"
Watari nodded. "It's part of the problem; this temple, once one of the Great Repositories back in the days of Ang, now has pretty much been turned into nothing but a tourist trap. You have to actually schedule a tour to go in and see it."
"Guess they don't have many converts," Hisoka muttered at the car window, and Watari shrugged.
"It's not their goal, Bon," he said. "And since they're doing what they wanted to complete, I guess it's safe to say that they're a success."
003 seemed to agree; finally free from its box, it perched happily on Watari's shoulder and snuggled under the covering of his hair, against his neck. After a ruffling, muffled "hoot" of concurrence, it closed its eyes and went to sleep.
"Awww," Watari said, his own manhood clearly not threatened by the acknowledgement of something cute. "Now, THAT'S a Kodak moment!" Having no idea what he meant, his friends looked at him oddly, then gave up trying to understand. The rest of the trip to their hotel was silent.
"I'm just SO glad they accepted owls at this hotel!" Watari said happily, walking with a spring in his step and his hands in his pockets. Slighty behind him and to the left, Hisoka and Tsuzuki walked side by side.
"After the security deposit we had to give them, I don't feel grateful," Hisoka muttered in justifiable irritation, since the deposit had come out of his wallet.
"We'll get it back, Hisoka," Tsuzuki encouraged, smiling hopefully - although his smile was still at only half-power, which Hisoka pretended not to notice.
Be strong for Tsuzuki, strong for Tsuzuki... "Yeah, sure. I'll believe that when I see it."
And in total disregard for the discussion behind him, Watari interrupted. "We're HERE!" he announced, executing a little skip and tossing his hair for joy. Tsuzuki and Hisoka looked up, and gaped at what they saw.
The temple of Shigoto was huge; utterly, excrutiatingly big, not at all humble or modest or in any way remotely a denial of the flesh. Gold edged the scrolls and lettering engraved into the stone of the frontispiece; promises and wishes of health, wisdom, and humility hung from the rooftop, fluttering prettily in a light breeze. People - mostly foreigners - moved in and out of the temple in a constant stream, chatting, laughing, and taking pictures. Tsuzuki made a face.
"What the hell is THIS?" he demanded, sounding oddly offended.
"Tourism!" Watari replied, and joined the nearest line of people going into the temple.
"...why did we have to go on the plane, again?" Hisoka asked as they were walking through the entrance, and Watari pointed.
"See that?" he said, indicating men in hooded monk's robes standing against the distant walls on either side, cloaked in shadow.
"Whoa," said Hisoka.
"Exactly," Watari said. "This temple's going through a weird, weird phase right now; you see, the CORE of it is still powerful - still what it should be, really. But the outer edges - the management, the landowners, whatever you want to call them - are going in exactly the opposite direction. It's common enough for religions organizations these days; if they want to survive, they have to make money - but if they're 'spiritual,' they'd prefer to focus on other things. This place just happens to be the posterchild for the conflict."
While Watari was speaking, the three of them had finally reached the front of the line. A smiling young man, his head shaved, was standing there, accepting "donations" as a sort of pass into the temple. Technically, they couldn't force someone to give, of course - but a "suggested donation" of 3500 yen per person was deemed perfectly reasonable for the artifacts and floor show ahead.
One by one, all the people smiled right back at the young man and dropped the yen into his seemingly bottomless basket. "May you find freedom from your belongings," he blessed them all, and if he saw the absurdity in what he was doing coupled with what he was saying, it didn't show on his face.
Watari finally stepped up. "Hello!"
The bald priest looked at him. "Greetings, traveller."
Watari beamed; the priest smiled. No one moved; and then, as if his arm had grown tired, the priest "accidentally" shook his basket a little; coins jingled.
"Ooh - oooh, yes, ah - Bon? Do you have it?"
Looking startled for being called upon the second time in as many hours to cough up the cash, Hisoka glared hard at Watari as he walked up to give the priest the suggested amount. He knew Tatsumi would pay him back from the Meifu's fund later, but that wasn't the point; it seemed he was simply the only one of them frugal enough to have that kind of money on hand as they wandered around.
"Sankyuu!" Tsuzuki blurted in butchered English, and the priest smiled and waved them on. There was no wish for them to be free from their belongings; all three men noticed, but as they walked, no one brought it up.
The entrance hall was utterly cavernous. The ceiling arched so high above them that it was greyed with dust motes and distance; perfectly carved, it was more beautiful than many buildings they'd seen over the years. There was no furniture of any kind - empty, ancient stone greeted them, and it resembled nothing so much as an empty Catholic cathedral - with one exception: there were no windows. The hall grew darker as they walked.
Hisoka was muttering. "...next time one of YOU guys get to pay..."
"Hey," Tsuzuki said quietly, walking a little closer to his companions. "Those guys in the cloaks - they're following us."
All three of them were more than expert at this point in subtely looking around; a moment's observation showed that this was indeed the case.
"Well, that's unfortunate," Watari said, and Hisoka looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because we have to get into the inner sanctum - they're probably security, and we really don't want to use any magic or powers or they'll probably panic."
Tsuzuki sighed. "Too right; they'll sense our energy more than they do already, and won't know what we are. So what do we do?"
"Well, this is where being on the airplane was important!" announced Watari, one finger pointing in the air. "By being near so many people (in travel especially) for such a long time, we picked up some of THEIR energies like burrs - it happens to everyone, you see. However, it makes us feel a little less weird. We should be able to blend in after a while goes by and we haven't done anything."
"And you really couldn't have explained that to us earlier?" Hisoka asked in disbelief, and then Watari suddenly stopped. Hisoka bumped into him, and Tsuzuki bumped into Hisoka; altogether, they were lucky they didn't bowl over the person who'd moved up to stop them.
This person, as a matter of note, did not seem to find it odd that they'd piled into one another. "Pardon me," he said, hands folded neatly together inside the sleeves of his yukata.
"Yes?" asked Tsuzuki, who seemed to have gotten his act together first.
"Are you the three from heaven?" said the man, and the three companions blinked.
"Um... not exactly?" offered Watari, but the man seemed satisfied with his own conclusion.
"We've been waiting for you," he said, and bowed very low. "Please - this way." Swiftly, he turned and began walking.
"Well... THAT'S unusual, too," Watari said, scratching the top of his head. "What do we do? Tsuzuki?"
Tsuzuki was aware on some level that the authority of this choice had been shunted to him; serious, not smiling, he watched the retreating man for a moment and came to his decision. "Whatever else is going on, I don't think he means us harm. He believed what he said. Come on - if we get into trouble, we'll deal with it." And he followed.
Watari nodded, pleased that Tsuzuki had taken the lead, and turned to Hisoka. "Shall we, Bon?"
Hisoka watched the man and Tsuzuki with great depths of suspicion, not liking it, not liking anything, but the fact remained that he would follow Tsuzuki to the ends of the earth if need be - not that he was consciously aware of that. "Right," he said, and steeling himself, took off after Tsuzuki.
Watari smiled as though this were all exactly as he'd hoped it would go and trailed after, content to be last.
Being in first class, Muraki had of course exited before everyone else. It would have given him enough time to lie in wait, it was true, if he'd planned on some sort of sneak attack; but since his business here had nothing to do with Tsuzuki or any of his lovely companions, there hardly seemed to be a point. Miracle of miralces, the airplane had landed ten minutes early, and Muraki intended to put that extra time to use.
Leaving the airport and hailing a cab, he made his way to the wealthier hotel district and finally got out at Palm Way. The street was aptly named; twenty meter tall Yaeyama palm trees from the island of Ishigak had been transported to the main land, lining the streets on both sides in many-fronded splendor, and the buildings on either side had definitely been designed to match. Elegant glass and steel gleamed everywhere; one bold architect had even included pink stucco imitation in an attempt to increase the slightly exotic feel of the atmosphere. Ignoring it all, Muraki walked on.
Ocean wind stirring his hair, he finally came to the end of the walkway, which terminated at a line of soft, white sand leading down to the ocean. It was beautiful; a resort rare enough to cost an arm and a leg and make its patrons feel every minute was worth it. Standing and watching the surf for only a moment, Muraki sighed walked into the last hotel on the pier.
It had a completely different design inside than out; no longer continuing the theme of metal and glass, the inside of the hotel abruptly transported its guests to feudal Japan, including ornately painted paper dividers and folded paper lanterns with electrically lit bulbs cleverly hidden inside. All the employees walked with their hands neatly folded inside their sleeves, faces painted white, hair artfully coifed on top of their heads. Ignoring them all - but earning appreciative and slighlty lustful looks from all he passed - Muraki went into the nearest elevator and pressed the button for the seventh floor. The elevator was new, well maintained, and quick; within only a few moments, he had reached the room that was his goal.
Pulling a key from his pocket, he entered without knocking. The smell of blood, acrid and metallic, wafted into the hall as he opened the door; most of it dissipated almost immediately after he shut it again, but not quite enough. In the end, blood could never be completely washed away, and this was something Muraki knew too well. Amused, he spoke for half an hour to the person waiting for him in the room, and then he left.
He wondered if he should warn Tsuzuki. No... perhaps not; it would be far more interesting just to see what would happen.
Humming a cheery song, Muraki went home and thought on the subject no more.