A/N: My thanks to those who reviewed! Bee-san: Thank you, thank you *bows*.
Ruby-Tears: thanks for the suggestion, I did exactly that after you said
so! Rinny: Why is it we just love it when our fav characters get tortured??
Haha, I loved writing that bit when Kyo got all whacked up! (Sadistic me).
Truthfully, Kyo is perhaps my fav bishie in my YnM universe (considering
the fact that I made him up & he doesn't really exist in the real YnM. . .
. ah well, I don't care!)
Minna: To those who would have liked to read more on Tsu x Soka or Tats x Watari, I'm afraid I won't really be focusing on them coz there's already so much fanfic on them that I feel like if I did another one, I'd just be repeating other fics.(Remember what I said in the Prologue? Or was it Chapter 1? That I took the liberty of making Tsu & Soka getting together already). I think almost everyone had covered every sort of conceivable plot for them! Made me crazy when I tried to do one so that's why I just went ahead with Kyo. Ah, now there's a whole bottle of mischief waiting to be released!
Oh yeah, since nobody (besides Ruby-Tears, thank you) voted on the lemon thing *grumble*, I'll be going on ahead with me and Ruby-Tears choice: Full- Bodied- Tastefully-Graphic-Lemon! You've been warned!
Pairings: Yada yada yada.
Disclaimer: To loosely quote another fanfic author whom I can't remember the name (Gomen!), if I was the one who owned YnM, I won't be doing fanfics coz I'd be too busy watching Kyo and Taka make out!
CHAPTER 7: The Many Forms Of Evil
Kyo and Hisoka scowled respectively at the wall.
And scowled some more.
Hey, it's not my fault you guys are stuck here, the wall protested.
Kyo and Hisoka both ignored it and continued scowling even more.
As the wall had pointed out, the both of them were stuck in Kyo's hospital room, under direct orders from Tatsumi himself. If, say, it had been their respective partners ordering them to do so, they would have cheerfully ignored it.
But since it was Tatsumi. . . . well, one would only cross the Kagetsukai if one had a death wish.
So they were stuck here. The rest had gone to the staff meeting Kacho had called concerning the latest murder, and when Kyo and Hisoka had gotten up to join them, they found themselves being pinned down by that perfect glare that only Tatsumi could pull off.
"You are both," he declared, spectacles glinting evilly with reflected light, "not going to this meeting. You," he pointed at Kyo, "are still recovering. And you," this time, he pointed at Hisoka, "have also just recovered from that spell. I will not have you exposed to the sight of another one of his murders. I don't want any relapse."
Hisoka looked furious at the announcement. He was, by God, not some weakling who'd faint just at the sight of a dead body and he's recovered perfectly fine, thank you, and was about to open his mouth to say so when Tatsumi turned up his glare a notch higher.
"Yes?" the Kagetsukai asked politely. On the wall behind him, several man- shaped shadows had loomed up and were rubbing their hands in gleeful anticipation. "You were going to say something?"
"Ah," Hisoka eyed those shadows nervously. "Nothing."
"I'm glad you understand then." With that, he walked out briskly, followed by Watari and Tsuzuki who threw back apologetic looks over their shoulders. They too, weren't crazy enough to cross the secretary when he was in *that* mood.
So there they were, stuck in a boring little hospital room, nothing to do until somebody deigns to come back and tell them what's going on. . .
"He is *so* not getting any tonight," Hisoka muttered to himself resentfully.
Kyo decided that it wasn't really his business to ask the boy on what he meant by 'not getting any'. But he felt sorry for Tsuzuki all the same.
After an hour, Kyo and Hisoka were about to discuss the merits of sneaking out and eavesdropping on the meeting which was going on for far too long for just one more murder when Tatsumi, Watari, Tsuzuki and Kacho walked in to the room. All four of them looked more than a little grim as they regarded the two boys seriously.
"What's wrong?" Hisoka asked, apprehensively. His empathy was telling him that there was a lot of uneasiness mixed in with more than a little fear, radiating from the four men. His stomach churned and he was suddenly glad that he didn't take any of the chocolates earlier. He might have well thrown up if he had.
Watari took a seat on the bed beside Kyo and said hesitantly, "Well, there was another murder, the same M.O.," Kyo rolled his eyes in exasperation, "and, there's something else."
"What?" Kyo asked. He frowned suspiciously at his partner. "Why on earth are you staring at me like I'm suddenly on my death bed or something?" he demanded.
For an answer, Watari reached into his coat pocket and for a moment, Kyo had the wild thought that Watari was going to give him the chocolates back but instead, he took out an envelope and gave it to him.
The envelope was heavy in his hands, made of those expensive paper which usually has a watermark embossed into it, creamy with age. He stared at it in confusion. Nobody really used this kind of paper anymore, except for really rich people. It was too pricey for one thing. The envelope on the back was sealed with red wax, but there was no identifying mark on that thin wafer.
"What's this?" Kyo asked, his voice filled with puzzlement. They weren't giving him a letter forcing him to resign, were they? Kyo wondered from where all these crazy thoughts were coming from.
"Turn it over," Watari instructed gently.
He did that and on the front side of the envelope, in beautiful, cursive script that was usually practiced a few hundred years ago, was written his name: Shiozaki Kyo.
For some unidentifiable reason, that elegant penmanship sent a chill down his back. He felt as though he should recognize that handwriting somehow.
"I still don't get it. Who's it from?" he waved the envelope at them. "Don't tell me EnmaDaioh suddenly took up letter-writing or something."
The four men looked at each other uneasily, an unspoken question passing from one to the next. Finally, Tatsumi sighed. Apparently, he was chosen to break the news.
"The envelope was found by the police at the murder site, pinned to the body."
Kyo and Hisoka both stared at him then back at the innocent looking envelope in horror and sick fascination. Kyo dropped the envelope onto his lap as though it burnt him, staring at it.
"Why didn't anyone open it?" He asked calmly. He was quite proud at how his voice sounded so relaxed. There'd be plenty of time to run screaming down the hall later. For now, he wanted to know why he was suddenly getting a letter from a psycho (hadn't he heard of e-mail?) and why was he the one who had to open it (damn their respect for his privacy. That does not extend to letters from murderers. He was quite happy if they had opened it and just read it to him instead).
"It's been sealed with more than just that wax," Kacho spoke up. His normally craggy face was even craggier now with lines of worry creasing it. "It's sealed with magic. Even Tsuzuki can't open it. Apparently, the murderer wants no one to open it but you."
"Damn his attentiveness to hell," Kyo scowled. He picked up the envelope again and stared at it for a full minute, turning it over and over in his hands. Finally, he sighed and shooed Watari off his bed. "I'm putting up a barrier. In case it's another one of his 'game'," he explained.
With that, he bowed his head in concentration and a shimmering wall of incandescent blue encircled him. The ward in place, he took a deep breath and touched the red wax hesitantly.
It crumbled away at that soft touch. They were right, it was tuned to open only for him. Fingers that were shaking slightly opened the flap and they withdrew a single parchment from within, made of the same heavy and rich paper as the envelope.
There was another map on it, beautifully drawn, which Kyo recognized as a part of Kyoto he had always visited when he was alive, with another 'X' marking a nondescript alley. There were only a few words printed underneath it, with that same, elegant scrawl:
Monday, 11.30 p.m.
Besides that, there was nothing else. With a frown, he even turned the envelope upside down, shaking it to see if there was anything stuck inside.
Nothing.
With another frown, he dissolved the barrier and the rest of them crowded close, demanding to know what the envelope contained. He showed them the note and they read it in silence.
"It's Tuesday now," Hisoka spoke up. "So that lunatic has over a week to do whatever it is he plans to do."
No one asked whether or not he's going. It was understood and a given fact that he had to. They have no choice after all. They were no closer to finding out the identity of this murderer anymore than when they first got the case. Of course, what was also taken for granted was that they were not letting him go alone. Besides, the letter had said nothing about him bringing backup.
Each of them digested this information until Tsuzuki finally asked the question that had recently plagued their minds but were reluctant to say out loud. His eyes were filled with apprehension as he asked them, "Have you guys noticed that he seems to know us quite well? I mean, each trap seemed to be specifically designed for one of us. Well, two of us so far now, actually. And now, he even knows Kyo's full name."
Hisoka nodded in agreement. "Aa, the first one was a trap made of shadows, for Tatsumi-san."
The secretary looked troubled but he didn't contradict Hisoka.
"And the second trap was for me. He knew I was an empath."
"But how?" Watari burst out in agitation. "It's not as though we come out with a weekly newsletter or something to advertise about ourselves!"
"And nobody outside of my family really knew about me and my empathy or how I look like," Hisoka added. "They didn't even publish an obituary in the local paper when I died," he said, matter-of-factly.
Everyone winced in shared sympathy. The boy had a hard life when he was alive. If you could even call what he had a *life* that is. Tsuzuki fervently prayed that his whole family would get the boils. It was the least punishment for anyone who treated their own child like that.
"Actually," Hisoka said slowly, a faraway look in his eyes, "someone does know about us. Knows us and our abilities quite well in fact. . ."
It was Tsuzuki that answered him, his voice filled with such loathing that Kyo started in surprise. "Muraki."
________________________________________________________________________
And it was Tatsumi who accompanied Tsuzuki and Hisoka to KoKakuRou, the restaurant/high-class brothel owned by Oriya Mibu, Muraki's longtime friend and reluctant accomplice. It was the best place (and only place, they had admitted grudgingly) to find Muraki. Or at least, find *out* anything about Muraki. Oriya had seemed to be more than a bit disapproving of his best friend's chosen obsession (though he didn't actively tried to stop the crazed doctor) and the last time they had encountered him, he seemed to rather like Hisoka. This time, they hoped he liked Hisoka enough to spill the beans on Muraki.
Though Kyo had wanted to join them and see for himself in person this infamous 'Muraki Sensei', he had to bow to the wisdom of staying behind. He really didn't feel up to destroying any more magical traps yet. Besides, he had added cheerfully, he had promised himself that he would run down the hall screaming in fear after reading the letter, so would everyone please excuse him?
Watari then announced that he would join the boy too. After the first initial run, they were joined in by Saya and Yuma, complete with trailing ribbons and frilly dresses as they tried to pin Kyo down for a makeover.
Kyo had screamed even louder then.
It was fine when he had a female body but really! Not when he was completely male!
And so, on that fine, Tuesday afternoon, the three Shinigamis made their way through the upper class part of Kyoto where Oriya's place of business was located. Though much could be said about his chosen form of business, Tatsumi had to acknowledge that Oriya had taste and style as they came again to that fateful garden at the back of the restaurant where more than a year ago, Hisoka had battled Oriya for Tsuzuki's life.
The place hadn't really changed, Tatsumi noted. It was still as peaceful as ever, koi fishes flicking dreamily in the small pond, shaded by a maple tree. The garden was immaculately swept and smelled of the tobacco which Oriya was fond of smoking. The man was also there, but unlike that night, he was not sitting casually on the verandah, relaxed as can be when visited by Gods of Death.
Instead, he was pacing back and forth, furiously chewing down on the stem of his pipe and when he saw the Shinigamis coming in, his face positively brightened.
They stopped in surprise. They had not expected the man to look. . . to look. . . well, to look *happy* seeing them.
"Thank God you're here! I was about to go out of mind trying to think up ways on contacting you!"
They blinked at him.
"Well, you can't seriously expect me to go and murder someone just to get your attention!" he said impatiently at the look on their faces. "Besides, I don't know any magic that will make you guys notice. Well, what took you so long?"
It was Tsuzuki who finally spoke up. "Took us so long to do what?" his face filled with bafflement.
"Ah, you're Tsuzuki-san I take it?"
Tsuzuki nodded.
"I asked, what took you so long to come tell me what you did with Muraki. That's what!" he exclaimed exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in disgust. "The least you could do, if you had wanted to kick his ass, was to at least inform me of what's going on! I've been driving my girls crazy by pacing here all this time. They say it disrupts their concentration," he added thoughtfully.
If it was possible, the Shinigamis looked even more baffled. Tatsumi asked, hesitantly, "Ah, Oriya-san, we came here to ask *you* on where Muraki is. Or if you know what he's been doing these past month."
The pipe fell from Oriya's suddenly slack mouth, bouncing on the wooden floor and scattering cold ashes everywhere. He sounded horrified as he asked them, "You mean it wasn't you?"
________________________________________________________________________
They were sitting in Oriya-san's private sitting room, and like the restaurant/brothel, it was decorated in the traditional Japanese way, tatami everywhere with a low, mahogany table, shining dark with polish. Ever the polite host, Oriya had a serving girl came in and they were now nursing cups of hot green tea.
The man himself now sat with them, his own tea untouched as he regarded them with a troubled expression on his face. His hair was as long as ever and he brushed his bangs out of his eyes impatiently. On any other man, such long hair would have made them look positively gay but it suited him, like those old-time samurai who was currently relaxing in his private abode. He also had the skills of one, his sword fight with Hisoka proved that.
Now though, he just looked lost and worried as he heard their story of the now eight murders, the traps, and just recently, the letter addressed to Kyo. His fingers had tightened so hard on his cup that his knuckles turned white when they described to him the murders.
"It wasn't Muraki," he declared firmly. He saw the skeptical looks they gave him and sighed impatiently. "I know Muraki. He may not always tell me what he was up to but I would *know*. He can't hide those kinds of things from me. I know him too well for that."
"But maybe this time you *didn't* know. It's entirely possible, considering the kind of man Muraki is," Tsuzuki protested.
"It's not him," Oriya repeated stubbornly. "Look, ever since that. . . .incident involving you two," here he nodded at Tsuzuki and Hisoka who looked stonily back, "he hasn't been the same." He noticed Tsuzuki opening his mouth again to point out that conflicting statement and he quickly held out his hand, stalling him.
"What I meant was, he hasn't even killed anybody the whole year."
The Shinigamis faces became, if possible, even more skeptical.
"Well, he hasn't shown up in any cases this past year and more hasn't he?" Oriya demanded.
Tatsumi nodded reluctantly. "Aa, he hasn't."
"That's because he's been here this whole time moping. When you destroyed his lab that time, you've destroyed something. . . . something important. He lost purpose after that." The expression on his face warned them that Oriya would refuse to explain what that 'something' was, so they didn't press him.
"He's only started to come out of his shell these few months and you had NO idea of the hell I went through to achieve that."
"Why though? Why go through all that? Just because he's your best friend?" Hisoka sounded almost furious with the man. His fists clenched in his lap, he glared at the man who had made him realize just what he was fighting for that night. Who had made him realize his love for Tsuzuki and everyone at the Shokan Division, the same person who continuously protected the madman that had killed him and put them through hell.
Oriya glared back at the boy. "Were you deaf boy, when I told you why the last time we fought? I said it then and I'll say it again. There's a reason for Muraki's insane actions. He was fighting for the same reason as you were. You helped to take away that reason that same night!"
They both continued to glare at each other for a long minute, but it was Hisoka that broke his gaze first. "Gomen," he muttered.
Oriya sighed, his face softening. "No, it's okay. Besides, who ever said that we had a choice on whom we fall in love with?"
At this, Tsuzuki and Hisoka glanced at each other and blushed.
Tatsumi cleared his throat meaningfully, "Ah, Oriya-san? You were saying earlier that you were waiting for us? Can you explain why?"
Oriya's face became troubled again. "A month ago, I was woken up in the middle of the night by the sounds of crashing coming from Muraki's room. Hell, he woke everyone in the. . . restaurant up. Scared my girls.
Anyway, I went to see what happened and," his hands tightened reflexively again on his cup, "Muraki was gone."
"Maybe he just left without telling you?" Tatsumi suggested.
"No," Oriya shook his head. "His room was in a total mess. It looked as though he got into a fight with somebody and somebody got hurt pretty bad, judging from the blood I found."
"Maybe he just had a. . . manic rage, trashed his room , hurt himself and still left without telling you goodbye?" Tsuzuki spoke up.
"Are you sure being Shinigamis didn't turn you deaf?" Oriya snapped. "I just said that he was getting better, didn't I? And I should know if he was going to have a fit. Kami knows how many of them I had to help him get through the past year."
Tsuzuki apologized and after that, they sat in silence, contemplating on what Oriya told them.
"Can you show us his room?" Tatsumi asked suddenly.
"It's no use," Oriya shrugged. "I had it cleaned up. Didn't like seeing it like that."
"But Hisoka's here and he might be able to pick up something. . . do you mind, Kurosaki-kun?" Tatsumi turned to ask him.
The boy stared back at him thoughtfully, then said, "You think there's a connection?"
Tatsumi nodded. "It can't hurt to try. The murders just started recently, Muraki was forcefully taken, and now we suddenly find ourselves with a killer who knows us too well. I'd say it's too much of a coincidence, don't you think?"
Hisoka thought about it. Experience had taught him that trying to read Muraki or any of his residual emotions was likely to make him retch. The man had a depth to his darkness that made Hisoka cringe back from trying to understand. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he *wanted* to understand.
But, if what Oriya said was true, then maybe Muraki had gotten out of his madness, maybe he really had gotten better, maybe. . . and maybe pigs had started flying, he thought sourly. Still, they didn't have a choice.
He sighed in defeat. "All right. Let's go."
________________________________________________________________________
Muraki's room was situated above the garden, at the back of the restaurant and far away enough from the streets that it seemed as though the room was in a little private world of its own. The room was, as Oriya had mentioned, clean. Any form of debris or whatever was gone.
Hisoka stopped just behind the threshold, experience concerning Muraki warning him that to rush into anything that had to do with the silver- haired psycho was dangerous and stupid. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind, shutting out the other emotions filtering in from all over the restaurant, and focused on the room before him.
Pain.
A faint trace of anger.
Regret.
Despair.
Hopelessness.
Love.
It was no use, he had to go into the room itself to get anything concrete. Step by step, he entered the room as cautiously as one would enter a den of snakes. His stockinged feet crunched softly on the tatami mats and he extended his empathy even more softly and slowly. It would be embarrassing to have a fit here.
More pain.
More regret.
More anger.
More love.
MADNESS.
Hisoka hissed and clutched his head in pain. Unaware, he had fallen to his knees as he tried to stop the outflow of dark, bitter madness from drowning him in its black wave of pain.
No, he won't give in. He was stronger than this, dammit! He gritted his teeth and with all his strength, slammed his shields back in place.
The sudden feeling of emptiness that covered his mind was a blessed relief and he sighed, his body sagging. Somebody caught him before he could slump on the floor and he opened his eyes to see Tsuzuki cuddling him protectively. "Are you okay?" his voice low with concern.
"Aa," he nodded. "Just too much, too fast, as Kyo would have said. What did I touch just now?"
Tsuzuki pointed with his chin to something on the boy's left.
It was a porcelain doll. Blond, curly hair and blank eyes. Muraki's doll.
Hisoka grimaced. Great. A new feature to be added to his future nightmares about the guy. "Oriya-san?" he called out.
"Yeah?" The man was waiting by the door along with Tatsumi and earlier, Tsuzuki, so that Hisoka would not get confused with their emotions as well.
"Where was the exact spot which seemed to be the center of their struggle? I'm not getting anything specific from around here."
Oriya strode in and went to stand near the balcony. "Over here. This was the spot with the most. . . the most blood." There was a catch to his voice and the man quickly walked out again, his back stiff.
Hisoka waved off Tsuzuki's offer of a supporting hand and went to the balcony unaided. His empathy had admittedly grown stronger over the year and he recovered fast now from blinding emotions. But not since he had gotten stronger with his empathy had he gone headlong into something with Muraki in it.
What if he was still too weak to face the man? Or his madness?
He took a deep breath. You won't find out by just staring at that spot like an idiot, he scolded himself. Oh well, it's now or never.
With one decisive move, he knelt down and pressed his hands on to the tatami. And lowered his shields.
Pain, so much pain. Pain filled his mind, his body, his universe. So much pain!
Abruptly, something else replaced it. Something besides debilitating pain.
Crippling fear.
What made him nearly sat down in complete, utter surprise was that the source of fear came from Muraki. There was no doubt about it. Each person's emotions and feelings had a unique feel to it. Put him and Tsuzuki in the middle of crowd blindfolded, and he could unerringly point out where the amethyst-eyed man was.
It was definitely Muraki radiating that fear.
And something else was underneath that feeling of fear. The cause of that fear itself.
EVIL.EVIL.EVIL.EVILEVILEVILEVILEVILEVILEVIL
It was too much, he had never felt something so disgustingly pure in all his life. Even Muraki's brand of evil seemed tame beside it. Muraki's was something dark and scary, yes. But it still had the vestiges of human traces in it. This was just evil evil evil evil evil evil evil oh god make it stop evil evil evil evil evil evil ev-
"Hisoka!"
He felt somebody wrench his arms away from the tatami and he sobbed in relief. "Oh god, he was so scared, so scared, I'm so scared, Tsuzuki I'm so scared so scared he's so afraid!" He was half-aware that he was babbling almost incoherently and he couldn't stop his sobbing. He clutched Tsuzuki closer to him and was crying into his chest, still babbling about fear and evil. Make it stop. Please, make it stop!
He didn't even feel the sleep ofuda pressed onto his forehead but he welcomed the oblivion anyway.
~to be continued~ ________________________________________________________________________
A/N: And how's that for a cliffhanger? Huh? Huh? Huh? *cough* Sorry. You know, I tried highlighting my hair earlier with Loreal's Highlighting Hair kit and it didn't work. Maybe coz my hair is too black, too long and too thick. Dammit all, that was good money wasted. *Cough*
A/N 2: Actually, there was supposed to be more to this chapter but I noticed I was exceeding my usual length of pages & I didn't want to give you guys eye strain. Actually, I'm getting eye strain from typing this.
A/N 3: Isn't it lovely that for once, Muraki is the victim? I find it so endearing. . . poor Mibu-chan. . . *sniff*. Anyway, I'm digressing. Review! ^ . ^
Minna: To those who would have liked to read more on Tsu x Soka or Tats x Watari, I'm afraid I won't really be focusing on them coz there's already so much fanfic on them that I feel like if I did another one, I'd just be repeating other fics.(Remember what I said in the Prologue? Or was it Chapter 1? That I took the liberty of making Tsu & Soka getting together already). I think almost everyone had covered every sort of conceivable plot for them! Made me crazy when I tried to do one so that's why I just went ahead with Kyo. Ah, now there's a whole bottle of mischief waiting to be released!
Oh yeah, since nobody (besides Ruby-Tears, thank you) voted on the lemon thing *grumble*, I'll be going on ahead with me and Ruby-Tears choice: Full- Bodied- Tastefully-Graphic-Lemon! You've been warned!
Pairings: Yada yada yada.
Disclaimer: To loosely quote another fanfic author whom I can't remember the name (Gomen!), if I was the one who owned YnM, I won't be doing fanfics coz I'd be too busy watching Kyo and Taka make out!
CHAPTER 7: The Many Forms Of Evil
Kyo and Hisoka scowled respectively at the wall.
And scowled some more.
Hey, it's not my fault you guys are stuck here, the wall protested.
Kyo and Hisoka both ignored it and continued scowling even more.
As the wall had pointed out, the both of them were stuck in Kyo's hospital room, under direct orders from Tatsumi himself. If, say, it had been their respective partners ordering them to do so, they would have cheerfully ignored it.
But since it was Tatsumi. . . . well, one would only cross the Kagetsukai if one had a death wish.
So they were stuck here. The rest had gone to the staff meeting Kacho had called concerning the latest murder, and when Kyo and Hisoka had gotten up to join them, they found themselves being pinned down by that perfect glare that only Tatsumi could pull off.
"You are both," he declared, spectacles glinting evilly with reflected light, "not going to this meeting. You," he pointed at Kyo, "are still recovering. And you," this time, he pointed at Hisoka, "have also just recovered from that spell. I will not have you exposed to the sight of another one of his murders. I don't want any relapse."
Hisoka looked furious at the announcement. He was, by God, not some weakling who'd faint just at the sight of a dead body and he's recovered perfectly fine, thank you, and was about to open his mouth to say so when Tatsumi turned up his glare a notch higher.
"Yes?" the Kagetsukai asked politely. On the wall behind him, several man- shaped shadows had loomed up and were rubbing their hands in gleeful anticipation. "You were going to say something?"
"Ah," Hisoka eyed those shadows nervously. "Nothing."
"I'm glad you understand then." With that, he walked out briskly, followed by Watari and Tsuzuki who threw back apologetic looks over their shoulders. They too, weren't crazy enough to cross the secretary when he was in *that* mood.
So there they were, stuck in a boring little hospital room, nothing to do until somebody deigns to come back and tell them what's going on. . .
"He is *so* not getting any tonight," Hisoka muttered to himself resentfully.
Kyo decided that it wasn't really his business to ask the boy on what he meant by 'not getting any'. But he felt sorry for Tsuzuki all the same.
After an hour, Kyo and Hisoka were about to discuss the merits of sneaking out and eavesdropping on the meeting which was going on for far too long for just one more murder when Tatsumi, Watari, Tsuzuki and Kacho walked in to the room. All four of them looked more than a little grim as they regarded the two boys seriously.
"What's wrong?" Hisoka asked, apprehensively. His empathy was telling him that there was a lot of uneasiness mixed in with more than a little fear, radiating from the four men. His stomach churned and he was suddenly glad that he didn't take any of the chocolates earlier. He might have well thrown up if he had.
Watari took a seat on the bed beside Kyo and said hesitantly, "Well, there was another murder, the same M.O.," Kyo rolled his eyes in exasperation, "and, there's something else."
"What?" Kyo asked. He frowned suspiciously at his partner. "Why on earth are you staring at me like I'm suddenly on my death bed or something?" he demanded.
For an answer, Watari reached into his coat pocket and for a moment, Kyo had the wild thought that Watari was going to give him the chocolates back but instead, he took out an envelope and gave it to him.
The envelope was heavy in his hands, made of those expensive paper which usually has a watermark embossed into it, creamy with age. He stared at it in confusion. Nobody really used this kind of paper anymore, except for really rich people. It was too pricey for one thing. The envelope on the back was sealed with red wax, but there was no identifying mark on that thin wafer.
"What's this?" Kyo asked, his voice filled with puzzlement. They weren't giving him a letter forcing him to resign, were they? Kyo wondered from where all these crazy thoughts were coming from.
"Turn it over," Watari instructed gently.
He did that and on the front side of the envelope, in beautiful, cursive script that was usually practiced a few hundred years ago, was written his name: Shiozaki Kyo.
For some unidentifiable reason, that elegant penmanship sent a chill down his back. He felt as though he should recognize that handwriting somehow.
"I still don't get it. Who's it from?" he waved the envelope at them. "Don't tell me EnmaDaioh suddenly took up letter-writing or something."
The four men looked at each other uneasily, an unspoken question passing from one to the next. Finally, Tatsumi sighed. Apparently, he was chosen to break the news.
"The envelope was found by the police at the murder site, pinned to the body."
Kyo and Hisoka both stared at him then back at the innocent looking envelope in horror and sick fascination. Kyo dropped the envelope onto his lap as though it burnt him, staring at it.
"Why didn't anyone open it?" He asked calmly. He was quite proud at how his voice sounded so relaxed. There'd be plenty of time to run screaming down the hall later. For now, he wanted to know why he was suddenly getting a letter from a psycho (hadn't he heard of e-mail?) and why was he the one who had to open it (damn their respect for his privacy. That does not extend to letters from murderers. He was quite happy if they had opened it and just read it to him instead).
"It's been sealed with more than just that wax," Kacho spoke up. His normally craggy face was even craggier now with lines of worry creasing it. "It's sealed with magic. Even Tsuzuki can't open it. Apparently, the murderer wants no one to open it but you."
"Damn his attentiveness to hell," Kyo scowled. He picked up the envelope again and stared at it for a full minute, turning it over and over in his hands. Finally, he sighed and shooed Watari off his bed. "I'm putting up a barrier. In case it's another one of his 'game'," he explained.
With that, he bowed his head in concentration and a shimmering wall of incandescent blue encircled him. The ward in place, he took a deep breath and touched the red wax hesitantly.
It crumbled away at that soft touch. They were right, it was tuned to open only for him. Fingers that were shaking slightly opened the flap and they withdrew a single parchment from within, made of the same heavy and rich paper as the envelope.
There was another map on it, beautifully drawn, which Kyo recognized as a part of Kyoto he had always visited when he was alive, with another 'X' marking a nondescript alley. There were only a few words printed underneath it, with that same, elegant scrawl:
Monday, 11.30 p.m.
Besides that, there was nothing else. With a frown, he even turned the envelope upside down, shaking it to see if there was anything stuck inside.
Nothing.
With another frown, he dissolved the barrier and the rest of them crowded close, demanding to know what the envelope contained. He showed them the note and they read it in silence.
"It's Tuesday now," Hisoka spoke up. "So that lunatic has over a week to do whatever it is he plans to do."
No one asked whether or not he's going. It was understood and a given fact that he had to. They have no choice after all. They were no closer to finding out the identity of this murderer anymore than when they first got the case. Of course, what was also taken for granted was that they were not letting him go alone. Besides, the letter had said nothing about him bringing backup.
Each of them digested this information until Tsuzuki finally asked the question that had recently plagued their minds but were reluctant to say out loud. His eyes were filled with apprehension as he asked them, "Have you guys noticed that he seems to know us quite well? I mean, each trap seemed to be specifically designed for one of us. Well, two of us so far now, actually. And now, he even knows Kyo's full name."
Hisoka nodded in agreement. "Aa, the first one was a trap made of shadows, for Tatsumi-san."
The secretary looked troubled but he didn't contradict Hisoka.
"And the second trap was for me. He knew I was an empath."
"But how?" Watari burst out in agitation. "It's not as though we come out with a weekly newsletter or something to advertise about ourselves!"
"And nobody outside of my family really knew about me and my empathy or how I look like," Hisoka added. "They didn't even publish an obituary in the local paper when I died," he said, matter-of-factly.
Everyone winced in shared sympathy. The boy had a hard life when he was alive. If you could even call what he had a *life* that is. Tsuzuki fervently prayed that his whole family would get the boils. It was the least punishment for anyone who treated their own child like that.
"Actually," Hisoka said slowly, a faraway look in his eyes, "someone does know about us. Knows us and our abilities quite well in fact. . ."
It was Tsuzuki that answered him, his voice filled with such loathing that Kyo started in surprise. "Muraki."
________________________________________________________________________
And it was Tatsumi who accompanied Tsuzuki and Hisoka to KoKakuRou, the restaurant/high-class brothel owned by Oriya Mibu, Muraki's longtime friend and reluctant accomplice. It was the best place (and only place, they had admitted grudgingly) to find Muraki. Or at least, find *out* anything about Muraki. Oriya had seemed to be more than a bit disapproving of his best friend's chosen obsession (though he didn't actively tried to stop the crazed doctor) and the last time they had encountered him, he seemed to rather like Hisoka. This time, they hoped he liked Hisoka enough to spill the beans on Muraki.
Though Kyo had wanted to join them and see for himself in person this infamous 'Muraki Sensei', he had to bow to the wisdom of staying behind. He really didn't feel up to destroying any more magical traps yet. Besides, he had added cheerfully, he had promised himself that he would run down the hall screaming in fear after reading the letter, so would everyone please excuse him?
Watari then announced that he would join the boy too. After the first initial run, they were joined in by Saya and Yuma, complete with trailing ribbons and frilly dresses as they tried to pin Kyo down for a makeover.
Kyo had screamed even louder then.
It was fine when he had a female body but really! Not when he was completely male!
And so, on that fine, Tuesday afternoon, the three Shinigamis made their way through the upper class part of Kyoto where Oriya's place of business was located. Though much could be said about his chosen form of business, Tatsumi had to acknowledge that Oriya had taste and style as they came again to that fateful garden at the back of the restaurant where more than a year ago, Hisoka had battled Oriya for Tsuzuki's life.
The place hadn't really changed, Tatsumi noted. It was still as peaceful as ever, koi fishes flicking dreamily in the small pond, shaded by a maple tree. The garden was immaculately swept and smelled of the tobacco which Oriya was fond of smoking. The man was also there, but unlike that night, he was not sitting casually on the verandah, relaxed as can be when visited by Gods of Death.
Instead, he was pacing back and forth, furiously chewing down on the stem of his pipe and when he saw the Shinigamis coming in, his face positively brightened.
They stopped in surprise. They had not expected the man to look. . . to look. . . well, to look *happy* seeing them.
"Thank God you're here! I was about to go out of mind trying to think up ways on contacting you!"
They blinked at him.
"Well, you can't seriously expect me to go and murder someone just to get your attention!" he said impatiently at the look on their faces. "Besides, I don't know any magic that will make you guys notice. Well, what took you so long?"
It was Tsuzuki who finally spoke up. "Took us so long to do what?" his face filled with bafflement.
"Ah, you're Tsuzuki-san I take it?"
Tsuzuki nodded.
"I asked, what took you so long to come tell me what you did with Muraki. That's what!" he exclaimed exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in disgust. "The least you could do, if you had wanted to kick his ass, was to at least inform me of what's going on! I've been driving my girls crazy by pacing here all this time. They say it disrupts their concentration," he added thoughtfully.
If it was possible, the Shinigamis looked even more baffled. Tatsumi asked, hesitantly, "Ah, Oriya-san, we came here to ask *you* on where Muraki is. Or if you know what he's been doing these past month."
The pipe fell from Oriya's suddenly slack mouth, bouncing on the wooden floor and scattering cold ashes everywhere. He sounded horrified as he asked them, "You mean it wasn't you?"
________________________________________________________________________
They were sitting in Oriya-san's private sitting room, and like the restaurant/brothel, it was decorated in the traditional Japanese way, tatami everywhere with a low, mahogany table, shining dark with polish. Ever the polite host, Oriya had a serving girl came in and they were now nursing cups of hot green tea.
The man himself now sat with them, his own tea untouched as he regarded them with a troubled expression on his face. His hair was as long as ever and he brushed his bangs out of his eyes impatiently. On any other man, such long hair would have made them look positively gay but it suited him, like those old-time samurai who was currently relaxing in his private abode. He also had the skills of one, his sword fight with Hisoka proved that.
Now though, he just looked lost and worried as he heard their story of the now eight murders, the traps, and just recently, the letter addressed to Kyo. His fingers had tightened so hard on his cup that his knuckles turned white when they described to him the murders.
"It wasn't Muraki," he declared firmly. He saw the skeptical looks they gave him and sighed impatiently. "I know Muraki. He may not always tell me what he was up to but I would *know*. He can't hide those kinds of things from me. I know him too well for that."
"But maybe this time you *didn't* know. It's entirely possible, considering the kind of man Muraki is," Tsuzuki protested.
"It's not him," Oriya repeated stubbornly. "Look, ever since that. . . .incident involving you two," here he nodded at Tsuzuki and Hisoka who looked stonily back, "he hasn't been the same." He noticed Tsuzuki opening his mouth again to point out that conflicting statement and he quickly held out his hand, stalling him.
"What I meant was, he hasn't even killed anybody the whole year."
The Shinigamis faces became, if possible, even more skeptical.
"Well, he hasn't shown up in any cases this past year and more hasn't he?" Oriya demanded.
Tatsumi nodded reluctantly. "Aa, he hasn't."
"That's because he's been here this whole time moping. When you destroyed his lab that time, you've destroyed something. . . . something important. He lost purpose after that." The expression on his face warned them that Oriya would refuse to explain what that 'something' was, so they didn't press him.
"He's only started to come out of his shell these few months and you had NO idea of the hell I went through to achieve that."
"Why though? Why go through all that? Just because he's your best friend?" Hisoka sounded almost furious with the man. His fists clenched in his lap, he glared at the man who had made him realize just what he was fighting for that night. Who had made him realize his love for Tsuzuki and everyone at the Shokan Division, the same person who continuously protected the madman that had killed him and put them through hell.
Oriya glared back at the boy. "Were you deaf boy, when I told you why the last time we fought? I said it then and I'll say it again. There's a reason for Muraki's insane actions. He was fighting for the same reason as you were. You helped to take away that reason that same night!"
They both continued to glare at each other for a long minute, but it was Hisoka that broke his gaze first. "Gomen," he muttered.
Oriya sighed, his face softening. "No, it's okay. Besides, who ever said that we had a choice on whom we fall in love with?"
At this, Tsuzuki and Hisoka glanced at each other and blushed.
Tatsumi cleared his throat meaningfully, "Ah, Oriya-san? You were saying earlier that you were waiting for us? Can you explain why?"
Oriya's face became troubled again. "A month ago, I was woken up in the middle of the night by the sounds of crashing coming from Muraki's room. Hell, he woke everyone in the. . . restaurant up. Scared my girls.
Anyway, I went to see what happened and," his hands tightened reflexively again on his cup, "Muraki was gone."
"Maybe he just left without telling you?" Tatsumi suggested.
"No," Oriya shook his head. "His room was in a total mess. It looked as though he got into a fight with somebody and somebody got hurt pretty bad, judging from the blood I found."
"Maybe he just had a. . . manic rage, trashed his room , hurt himself and still left without telling you goodbye?" Tsuzuki spoke up.
"Are you sure being Shinigamis didn't turn you deaf?" Oriya snapped. "I just said that he was getting better, didn't I? And I should know if he was going to have a fit. Kami knows how many of them I had to help him get through the past year."
Tsuzuki apologized and after that, they sat in silence, contemplating on what Oriya told them.
"Can you show us his room?" Tatsumi asked suddenly.
"It's no use," Oriya shrugged. "I had it cleaned up. Didn't like seeing it like that."
"But Hisoka's here and he might be able to pick up something. . . do you mind, Kurosaki-kun?" Tatsumi turned to ask him.
The boy stared back at him thoughtfully, then said, "You think there's a connection?"
Tatsumi nodded. "It can't hurt to try. The murders just started recently, Muraki was forcefully taken, and now we suddenly find ourselves with a killer who knows us too well. I'd say it's too much of a coincidence, don't you think?"
Hisoka thought about it. Experience had taught him that trying to read Muraki or any of his residual emotions was likely to make him retch. The man had a depth to his darkness that made Hisoka cringe back from trying to understand. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he *wanted* to understand.
But, if what Oriya said was true, then maybe Muraki had gotten out of his madness, maybe he really had gotten better, maybe. . . and maybe pigs had started flying, he thought sourly. Still, they didn't have a choice.
He sighed in defeat. "All right. Let's go."
________________________________________________________________________
Muraki's room was situated above the garden, at the back of the restaurant and far away enough from the streets that it seemed as though the room was in a little private world of its own. The room was, as Oriya had mentioned, clean. Any form of debris or whatever was gone.
Hisoka stopped just behind the threshold, experience concerning Muraki warning him that to rush into anything that had to do with the silver- haired psycho was dangerous and stupid. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind, shutting out the other emotions filtering in from all over the restaurant, and focused on the room before him.
Pain.
A faint trace of anger.
Regret.
Despair.
Hopelessness.
Love.
It was no use, he had to go into the room itself to get anything concrete. Step by step, he entered the room as cautiously as one would enter a den of snakes. His stockinged feet crunched softly on the tatami mats and he extended his empathy even more softly and slowly. It would be embarrassing to have a fit here.
More pain.
More regret.
More anger.
More love.
MADNESS.
Hisoka hissed and clutched his head in pain. Unaware, he had fallen to his knees as he tried to stop the outflow of dark, bitter madness from drowning him in its black wave of pain.
No, he won't give in. He was stronger than this, dammit! He gritted his teeth and with all his strength, slammed his shields back in place.
The sudden feeling of emptiness that covered his mind was a blessed relief and he sighed, his body sagging. Somebody caught him before he could slump on the floor and he opened his eyes to see Tsuzuki cuddling him protectively. "Are you okay?" his voice low with concern.
"Aa," he nodded. "Just too much, too fast, as Kyo would have said. What did I touch just now?"
Tsuzuki pointed with his chin to something on the boy's left.
It was a porcelain doll. Blond, curly hair and blank eyes. Muraki's doll.
Hisoka grimaced. Great. A new feature to be added to his future nightmares about the guy. "Oriya-san?" he called out.
"Yeah?" The man was waiting by the door along with Tatsumi and earlier, Tsuzuki, so that Hisoka would not get confused with their emotions as well.
"Where was the exact spot which seemed to be the center of their struggle? I'm not getting anything specific from around here."
Oriya strode in and went to stand near the balcony. "Over here. This was the spot with the most. . . the most blood." There was a catch to his voice and the man quickly walked out again, his back stiff.
Hisoka waved off Tsuzuki's offer of a supporting hand and went to the balcony unaided. His empathy had admittedly grown stronger over the year and he recovered fast now from blinding emotions. But not since he had gotten stronger with his empathy had he gone headlong into something with Muraki in it.
What if he was still too weak to face the man? Or his madness?
He took a deep breath. You won't find out by just staring at that spot like an idiot, he scolded himself. Oh well, it's now or never.
With one decisive move, he knelt down and pressed his hands on to the tatami. And lowered his shields.
Pain, so much pain. Pain filled his mind, his body, his universe. So much pain!
Abruptly, something else replaced it. Something besides debilitating pain.
Crippling fear.
What made him nearly sat down in complete, utter surprise was that the source of fear came from Muraki. There was no doubt about it. Each person's emotions and feelings had a unique feel to it. Put him and Tsuzuki in the middle of crowd blindfolded, and he could unerringly point out where the amethyst-eyed man was.
It was definitely Muraki radiating that fear.
And something else was underneath that feeling of fear. The cause of that fear itself.
EVIL.EVIL.EVIL.EVILEVILEVILEVILEVILEVILEVIL
It was too much, he had never felt something so disgustingly pure in all his life. Even Muraki's brand of evil seemed tame beside it. Muraki's was something dark and scary, yes. But it still had the vestiges of human traces in it. This was just evil evil evil evil evil evil evil oh god make it stop evil evil evil evil evil evil ev-
"Hisoka!"
He felt somebody wrench his arms away from the tatami and he sobbed in relief. "Oh god, he was so scared, so scared, I'm so scared, Tsuzuki I'm so scared so scared he's so afraid!" He was half-aware that he was babbling almost incoherently and he couldn't stop his sobbing. He clutched Tsuzuki closer to him and was crying into his chest, still babbling about fear and evil. Make it stop. Please, make it stop!
He didn't even feel the sleep ofuda pressed onto his forehead but he welcomed the oblivion anyway.
~to be continued~ ________________________________________________________________________
A/N: And how's that for a cliffhanger? Huh? Huh? Huh? *cough* Sorry. You know, I tried highlighting my hair earlier with Loreal's Highlighting Hair kit and it didn't work. Maybe coz my hair is too black, too long and too thick. Dammit all, that was good money wasted. *Cough*
A/N 2: Actually, there was supposed to be more to this chapter but I noticed I was exceeding my usual length of pages & I didn't want to give you guys eye strain. Actually, I'm getting eye strain from typing this.
A/N 3: Isn't it lovely that for once, Muraki is the victim? I find it so endearing. . . poor Mibu-chan. . . *sniff*. Anyway, I'm digressing. Review! ^ . ^