So, this is almost over. There will be one more chapter unless you think it should end here. I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed; your encouragement is what keeps me, or any writer, going. And I'd like to thank Gold, too, for being so patient and for proofreading my writings.

Disclaimers: Yami no Matsuei and all the characters involved in this story do not belong to me.

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            A Waste of Time [Five: Return]

            They didn't know what to say, no one knew how to start.

            So it they sat mechanically, the three of them at the same time, trapped in a suffocating silence, waiting for someone —or something—to break it. It was Hijiri who finally spoke up, glancing first at Tsuzuki and then at Hisoka.

            "We have a problem," he said, slowly, almost mumbling, and certainly half-wishing that he hadn't spoken at all. "And it's something we can't deal with ourselves since it concerns you—" here he fixed his eyes on Tsuzuki—"and I guess we have hidden it for time enough." His eyes darted, tellingly, to the scarlet-faced Hisoka.

            "It wasn't my intention to overhear it," Tsuzuki said, trying to make things better but he only succeeded in making Hisoka even more nervous about what Hijiri would say next. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine with me."

            "No, it was good that you heard it, since I don't think either of us would have summoned enough courage to—well, to walk up to you and say it," Hijiri admitted sincerely. "It's just foolishness to pretend that nothing happened because, well, it did. And we might need your help to get out of this mess we got ourselves into."

            Tsuzuki and Hijiri stared at Hisoka, expecting him to say something, but he kept quiet, knowing that he would only make things worse, not being good with words unlike the other two. Instead of saying anything, unlike what had been expected, Hisoka only nodded slightly. It was his way of asking Hijiri to proceed. The violinist took a deep breath and continued.

            "We are both feeling for you, Tsuzuki, something that goes a little further beyond friendship, and it's no use for us to argue over it when we have no idea how you feel about it—" here Hijiri paused briefly—"or about us."

            Tsuzuki fidgeted a little, wondering how he should handle it. He did not want to hurt either of his friends. He too took a deep breath. "I like the two of you very much," Tsuzuki began. "But saying whether I like one better than the other is a very hard thing for me to do. It depends on many things, and one of them is time, which I've had plenty with you, Hisoka and very little to spend with you, Hijiri. If I'm right, you are asking me to choose one of you…"

            "It's not like that!" Hisoka looked up sharply, almost distressed as he reached the point where he couldn't just listen and still keep silent.

            "It is," Hijiri said, sadly. "Because I can't seem to find another way to do it."

            "It can't—shouldn't— be like that." Hisoka knew that such a choice would hurt his partner grievously. "That would be unfair, and we…"

            "That's what I'm trying to say," interrupted Tsuzuki, holding up his hand. "There isn't a way to choose, I can't do that. Not when I know one so well and barely know the other, when one is alive and other is not, and I could go on with the list until you are both tired, but that's a waste of time when in the end the answer will still be the same—I can't choose. It's unfair, Hisoka is right, and someone might end up hurt no matter who I choose."

            "And if he can't choose we can't decide who won and we can call it a tie," Hijiri said, lowering his head.

            "It wasn't a war to start with." Hisoka could feel the disappointment hanging in the air, and he wasn't sure if it was Hijiri's or his own. He didn't bother raising his shields despite the fact that the numerous emotions swirling around him were beginning to give him a headache. He wanted to capture every emotion felt, maybe even a stray thought, anything that would help him have hope again, help him believe that none of that had happened and soon he'd be able to sit with Tsuzuki and deal with his problems his own way. But he couldn't seem to pick out something that would give him that hope…was there really nothing? Reality was deception, and there was plenty of it around him.

            "So, is that it?" Hijiri asked, also finding it hard to believe that it had ended so soon.

            "I guess so," Tsuzuki murmured, and suddenly everything was awkward.

            "Better than I had expected," Hijiri remarked, and Hisoka suddenly wondered if Hijiri had expected Tsuzuki to choose him, Hisoka, over Hijiri., going back to his usually cheerful self, as if willing to forget that there ever was such a conversation. "So, you're going home today? It isn't snowing anymore."

            "Aa," Hisoka whispered.

            "Home sounds good and we have to go back to work anyway," Tsuzuki said, smiling. Hisoka knew that this was an escape, since Tsuzuki wouldn't mention work under normal circumstances.

            "Oh, yes, sure," Hijiri said, shyly, almost forgetting that they had to work. "Well, I hope you will come again soon?"

            "Of course," Tsuzuki answered cheerfully.

            Hisoka nodded in agreement, but seriously hoped that they never had to step into that house again. He stared at the window and felt relieved that he could no longer see pure white flakes coming from the sky, though snow still covered rooftops and trees. Home sounded very much appealing now, his room, his things, the place he was used to living in, not that strange house. More than anything, he felt the need to talk to Tsuzuki in particular, maybe open up a little –why not? Tsuzuki was already able to see through him anyway –and hopefully explain the situation better. He wanted his partner to hear his version of the story; it wasn't quite as simple as Hijiri had put it. Hisoka hadn't wanted Tsuzuki to choose, in the first place.

            But, most of all, he wanted to go home.

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            There were no bags to be packed, nothing to be left behind for a reason, so leaving wasn't a complicated task. Hijiri waited for the shinigami at the door, which was still somewhat difficult to open although he managed to, somehow. Hijiri did his best not to look sad as he wasn't looking forward to this departure at all. But there were things in life that just couldn't be prevented from happening. Good byes were one of them, happening everyday like they meant nothing, but were still rough enough to break hearts. And there he stood, ready to face another good bye.

            "So…you'll come again, right?" Hijiri asked, as Tsuzuki and Hisoka met him at the door.

            "Yes," Tsuzuki said, reassuringly.

            "Come back any time you want to," Hijiri told them. Come back soon.

            The shinigami were already outside when Hijiri called them back. Without any warning, the violinist threw his arms around Tsuzuki in a tight hug, and didn't let go for quite a while. Then he pulled away and did the same to Hisoka, a shorter embrace, but before he pulled away, Hijiri whispered for no one but Hisoka to hear.

            "Take care of him. And of yourself."

            "Aa. I will," Hisoka whispered back, as Hijiri returned to the door.

            "I'll see you later."

            Tsuzuki waved as they left, and Hijiri watched them go. So, that was it. No good byes, just a later that might not come at all. A departure so gentle that it didn't even hurt, but felt like it had never happened, that perhaps it wasn't a departure or eternal parting…perhaps because there was an open door behind, an invitation that was always open. Suddenly Hisoka found himself walking home with Tsuzuki like they did everyday and wondered if all of it hadn't been just a long daydream. But the conversations, the feelings—they were all vivid in his mind, and although he tried to believe that it was an illusion, he could clearly see that it was not.

            And they walked in silence, in spite of all the things that still had to be said, of the talk that Hisoka had imagine they'd have as soon as they left Hijiri's house, none of which seemed even close to happening. Silence was comfortable or so it must have been to Tsuzuki, but it bothered Hisoka. His partner had raised his shields, so he couldn't even try to look inside, or search for something. There was nothing, and he'd have to deal with that.

            When they finally reached their street and Hisoka could see his house in the distance, he felt a lot better. They'd find a way to live with all that had been said, they always did. And it wasn't like Hisoka was about to give up on the person he liked the most because of a small rejection that didn't even feel like one. Instead, he decided to try a little harder to captivate Tsuzuki. He knew that friendship was only one step away from love, and since he already had Tsuzuki's friendship, the rest would come with time. All he had to do was wait. And Hisoka could be patient when it was convenient.

            As they entered their garden, killed by the weather but still beautiful for Hisoka, Tsuzuki crouched on the ground, made a snowball and threw at his partner, hitting his arm.

            "Why did you do that?" Hisoka asked, frowning as he brushed off the snow.

            "Because I felt like it," Tsuzuki said cheerfully. "Come on, Hisoka, haven't you ever had a snowball fight in your life?"

            No, Hisoka hadn't, but having a snowball fight with Tsuzuki sounded good, as much as he wanted to enter the house for it was cold outside. He made a small snowball and threw at Tsuzuki, hitting his shoulder. Tsuzuki countered the attack, his laughter echoing in the air. Hisoka couldn't tell how much he had missed that laughter; he couldn't recall hearing Tsuzuki laugh like that since they went to Hijiri's place. The supposed fight went on for a few more minutes until they were both shivering and wet from the melting snow. Without an official sign they stopped attacking, and Hisoka couldn't help but smile, shyly and secretly, as Tsuzuki struggled to find his keys in the many pockets of his coat.

            "Ready?" Tsuzuki asked, playfully.

            "Open the door already."

            So Tsuzuki did, and Hisoka was about to walk into the house when he found himself suddenly pulled back, and scooped up in strong arms that carried him inside. In spite of the cold, he felt his cheeks burn.

            "Put me down!"

            But Tsuzuki didn't obey him. Hisoka still struggled for a few more seconds before quieting down and enjoying one of the sudden displays of affection that he was getting so used to.

            "Home, sweet home." Tsuzuki said, cheerfully. And he was right, for in Hisoka's mind, nothing could be better than coming home.

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