Puppet Master by Gaki
AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's embarrassing to say that this chaptered confused me while I wrote it. It's all Muraki's fault! Yes, when in doubt, blame Muraki. It makes you feel so much better. xD I also had fun writing this chapter. Erm, yea xD
[1] = I remember
being told that young children, around 4/5 and under, can see ghosts. And
that ghost are afraid of babies because they're so innocent. It's just an
Asian story type thingie. Also, nothing important about these three children,
they're just there. xD
[2] = Muraki said this in Chapter 8.
[3] = Another tall tale. I remember my Mother telling me this. ^__^
[4] = Book#1 Nagasaki Arc. Muraki said so himself that he
kept an eye on Hisoka in his last three years on Earth. So I toyed with
the idea a bit in my head. xD
--------------------------
Some people are known to be indecisive. Having a hard time picking one thing from another, most would say, "I don't care. You pick."
However, a person can't always be like this. Letting others make the decision for you isn't always a good thing. One must make your own choice. You must practice your right to pick as a human being.
So the next time a person asks you if you'd like cream with your pie, say yes or no.
Don't say, "I don't care."
Once again silence greeted him. Only this time, it was a silence of confusion. He watched as his younger self frowned at the answer he'd given him, head tilted to one side in thought. Looking at himself, Hisoka was amazed at how opened he used to look. He could see clearly every emotion the young Hisoka was going through. The youthful face full of expression while the older version was one set in stone. How he'd changed.
"Why don't you know?" He asked himself.
"You are a puppet."
"Demon!"
"YOU'RE NOT MY SON!"
"This is your grave."
Staring down at himself, Hisoka tried to find a good answer. But he couldn't find any. Kurosaki Hisoka was only a name he carried around with him. He wasn't him anymore. He was just an empty shell that pretended to be Kurosaki Hisoka. The real Kurosaki Hisoka was the one standing in front of him right now. The real Kurosaki Hisoka was a child that believed in his parents. The real Kurosaki Hisoka was a child who giggled and posed in a beautiful kimono for his Mother.
The real Kurosaki Hisoka was under that large stone, covered in dirt and was nothing but bones.
He wondered slightly if anyone else ever had a problem like this. Faced with their younger self, being asked a question that they thought they would have the answer to. It would be so easy to just lie and tell his younger self that he was him. That he was that little boy who looked up with him with those large green eyes and convince him that they were the same person.
How do you convince yourself that you are the same person you were when you were but a child?
He found that he couldn't. He couldn't say that.
He couldn't lie to himself.
Turning away from the emerald gaze, he struggled with an answer. Only to look up sharply when a voice called out his name from across the garden.
"Hisoka!"
"Hisoka!"
With a big smile and a short giggle, he saw his younger self turn around as he quickly ran to hide behind a bush. Three young children around the same age appeared from behind the side of the house. One of them was a young girl with her hair in short pigtails, running quickly to try and catch up with her other playmates as they tried to find the young Hisoka. He watched stupidly as the children giggled, calling out his name.
"Hisoka! Hisoka!"
"Where are you?"
"Come out, Hisoka!"
He recognized these children. He knew them, each of them. He remembered playing hours on end with these three children in the garden. He remembered he used to have endless fun with these three. The joy of actually having playmates to play with when no one was around. No one knew of these three children, of course. If they did, he'd never be allowed into the garden ever again. He didn't want that, these three were the only friends he had. To be in the garden and not see them wouldn't be fun.
So he kept these three as a secret from everyone. No one knew he had playmates, not even his parents.
They didn't know because…
"Hisoka! Come out wherever you are!"
"I think I see him!"
"Over there!!"
… these children weren't real.
"The doll or the boy?"
Amethyst eyes still glaring at the offending figure near the window, Tsuzuki pulled the limp body of his partner closer. If what Muraki has said was true, then there was no way he could pick between the puppet in Muraki's arms and Hisoka's body in his own. Letting his eyes fall from the ever present smirk on Muraki's face, he looked into the puppet's dull green eyes. They reminded him of Hisoka's own eyes at the moment. Dull, dead and not reflecting anything back. He once again thought of the abandoned puppets in the workshop and how they too reminded him of his stoic partner.
Hisoka was like a puppet. Locked away in a room, he was like a puppet that was thrown away once a child found a better toy to play with. Forgotten and abandoned, he lost all hope of ever being touched by gentle hands. And like a puppet, he can be easily manipulated to do whatever his player wanted him to do. He couldn't control his own movements, he wouldn't be free.
He mentally shook his head.
To say that Hisoka was like a puppet wasn't completely right.
Perhaps, he should say that puppets were like Hisoka. Cold and emotionless, you can never tell what a puppet is thinking. Much like Hisoka himself. Locking all of his thoughts and emotions within himself, it was hard to try and understand him.
He frowned, not agreeing with his own thoughts. To say that a puppet was like Hisoka and that Hisoka was like a puppet was something he didn't want to have in his head. A puppet and Hisoka were nothing alike. Hisoka could control his own movements; have his own thoughts where a puppet was completely controlled by a string. Hisoka would argue and glare where a puppet would just follow with every pull of the string.
Hisoka was not like a puppet.
But the spirit ward on the doll's head mocked his thinking. He had to pick correctly in order to win this game Muraki had set up. If Hisoka's spirit was actually in the doll, then he would have to get the doll from Muraki's arms. If it was true, then having Hisoka's body alone wouldn't mean anything. True, the body is Hisoka but the spirit itself is what makes Hisoka himself. To just have his body and to bring it back to Meifu would be like carrying a shell.
But, if he believed Muraki's words, then he would admit to himself and give proof to Muraki that Hisoka was indeed a puppet. To say that he would pick a puppet over the body of his partner is to come forth and bow his head down in defeat; agreeing with Muraki that the boy was forever in his control. Picking the doll as Hisoka would be going against his current thoughts that Hisoka was not a puppet. That he was himself.
Yet, if Muraki was telling the truth… Tsuzuki fisted his hands, clinging to Hisoka's body even more as his thoughts tumbled over themselves in his head. This was quite a well thought out game Muraki had set up.
And what scared him the most was that he didn't trust his own instincts to pick out the right answer to the question.
Sweat slided down the side of his face as Muraki glanced at his watch with a smile.
"Time is ticking, Tsuzuki-san. What is your answer?"
He watched, like a person watching a movie in the theaters, the children playing around before his eyes. There was a time where he thought they were real. That they were like those children beyond the walls of the garden. They laughed like normal children, they giggled, played like normal children and yet they can never be real. He watched, unmoving, as his younger self ran from them. Laughter filled his ears, yet he really only heard one. It was a strange feeling. To watch himself play, to see the imaginary children run after him as if they were actually there.
It was normal, wasn't it? To have imaginary playmates?
Yet as he watched on, the children began to slowly fade. The girl with the pigtails became transparent just as her hand touched his slight shoulders. The two boys who were laughing from behind a sakura tree slowly started to fade. Their mouth wide open in laughter but no sounds came out. Soon, all he saw in the garden was himself.
He saw himself running from tree to tree. He heard joyful laughter from only one child as he played by himself, thinking that he was surrounded by friends. He saw the excitement in emerald eyes as the younger Hisoka sneaked a look from behind his hiding place. Hiding from something that wasn't even there in the first place. What he saw before his eyes should be normal.
What he saw was just a child playing with his imaginary friends.
Yet, somewhere in his mind he knew it wasn't normal.
Those three children, the young girl and the two boys, weren't imaginary friends.
Once again the children reappeared along with the sound of their laughter. The young girl giggled merrily as she caught him in a hug, making him fall onto the ground.
"Caught you!"
The two boys laughed along with her.
He felt his skin crawl as he remembered clearly what they were.
They were ghosts. [1]
Soon, the laughter became louder and louder, deafening his ears. Clutching his head, his hands covering his ears, Hisoka stumbled away from the laughing ghostly children. He felt goose bumps forming on his bare arms, a chill running down his spine as the laughter taunted him. Eyes tightly shut so that he would no longer see his younger self playing in the empty garden, he continued to back away.
"Stop it, stop it, stop it." He pleaded over and over again. "STOP IT!"
Louder and louder the laughter rang around him. Soon, there was something else added to the laughter. His name. The children began to chant his name.
"Hisoka!"
"Hisoka, where are you hiding?"
"Where are you going, Hisoka?"
"Come back and play with us, Hisoka!"
"Hisoka!!"
He let out a scream as a hand took hold of his wrist. Opening his eyes, he stared straight into cold silver orbs as a smooth voice spoke softly to him.
"Oya, what do we have here?"
He had to pick. Even if he was against going along with this game, whatever kind of a game it was, he had to pick. He had to pick to save Hisoka from whatever Muraki had done to him. A sudden surge of anger directed Hisoka and not Muraki surprised him. He was angry at the younger man for falling into a trap. Angry at being called an idiot countless of times when Hisoka himself had been an idiot. Angry that Hisoka didn't wait for him. Angry that Hisoka was used as nothing more as a bait to lure him to Muraki. He was angry at Hisoka for not being as smart as he should be.
How could you follow him, Hisoka? How could you when you know what he is capable of?
Muraki took a few steps closer towards him, doll still in hand. "Which one shall you pick, Tsuzuki-san?" He chuckled a bit. "Although, it doesn't really matter, does it? The doll or the boy, we both know the truth." Another step closer, his eyes practically shone with enjoyment. "Your partner will always be the puppet I use to lure you to me."
"No. Hisoka isn't some kind of a puppet. He isn't a toy for anyone to play with!" Tsuzuki glared up at him.
"Oh? He isn't a toy? But Tsuzuki-san, he is. He is your toy like he is mine." Muraki turned his attention back to Veronica. "You want to have him in the palm of your hands. You want to see him break down before you. You want to see his tears, his pain and the color of his blood. You are selfish, Tsuzuki-san. You want to be the puppet master who can fully control this boy."
He shook his head violently. "NO! You're wrong! I don't want to control Hisoka! I want to understand him! I want to know him better! I want him to be himself! But most of all I want him to be free from YOU!"
Head tilted to one side, Muraki gazed at him. "Free from me?" He chuckled. "That's impossible."
Tsuzuki narrowed his eyes. "You may think it's impossible, Muraki, but it can be done. I'll free Hisoka from you. Starting now."
Smile slipping from his face, Muraki raised an eyebrow.
Amethyst eyes burning, Tsuzuki continued.
"I know which one I'm going to pick."
It is true that a person can be so horrified that they can't move their limbs. He was rooted into place as he stared up into Muraki's face. The doctor chuckled, pale hand clutching his wrist tighter as he moved closer. Muraki raised his other hand to caress his face. Finally able to move his limbs to avoid being touched, Hisoka yanked his wrist away only to find that Muraki hadn't been holding his wrist as he fell to the hard ground. Muraki wasn't holding his wrist; he was holding the wrist of his younger self.
"I'll ask you again, boy. What do you want?" [2]
He watched with horrified eyes as the younger Hisoka struggled against the hold. He looked past the scene before his eyes to see the large sakura tree and the blood red moon. His breathing picked up, heart pounding loudly in his ears as the memory of that night rushed back to him. A scream caught his attention as he looked back at his younger self.
"Let me go! Please!" He watched Muraki smiled as his younger self finally struggled free, turning around to run. Reaching a hand out, the Hisoka before him gasped out in surprised as Muraki pulled the yutaka from his body. Pulling himself up from the ground, he shook his head.
"No. Stop."
"NO! Please! Stop! Let me go!"
"Stop it."
"Please! Wh-What are you-?!"
"Make it stop."
"Ple-AHH!!"
He covered his ears from the scream. "Stop it! STOP IT!"
"St-STOP!"
"STOP IT! STOP IT!" Tears streaked down his face even as he tried to stop himself from crying. He kept shouting it over and over even as a few feet from where he stood the nightmare went on.
"STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!"
As he stopped to catch his breath, he noticed that everything had stopped. Opening one eye carefully, he gazed around to find that he was no longer in that nightmare. He was seated on his bed in nothing but a hospital gown. Slightly confused, he let his eyes roam around the room. It was empty, he never did have much stuff as a child. The window was slightly open to allow a small breeze in. Pushing himself off of his bed, he walked towards the window to look outside. He couldn't see much though because of a large tree blocking the way.
Turning away, he looked back at his room. It was clean. Of course, when you have no toys to play with, your room would always be clean. There was a desk with a small lamp and his bed. His room. When he was being good, he was allowed to stay in his room. But if he would utter the wrong thing, ask about something he couldn't have known then he was sent to his other room. The room where the window was blocked up by bars, making it seem like a prison. Then again, it was a prison, his personal prison. There was no bed in that room. He would have to sleep sitting up.
"I want…"
Sometimes, when he couldn't take the cold anymore, he would cry softly in that room. Although he would only cry when it was raining. Crying any other time would allow the household to hear his sobbing. If they heard, he would get beaten up. So, he cried with the rain.
He remembered along time ago when his Mother still loved him, she told him that the rain were the tears of the Gods. [3]
He remembered asking her why they were crying.
"They're crying for everyone. They're crying for everything."
Would they cry for him still, he wondered.
The door to his room opened, causing him to jump a bit. But that wasn't what shocked him. Upon turning around to face whoever it was, he felt his heart stop beating and his blood run cold as he recognized the man in the doctor's garb.
Muraki raised an eyebrow, a slight smile on his face.
"Oya, out of bed already?" [4]
"Make your choice well, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki held up the doll again. "The doll with the boy's spirit, or that shell of what he used to be?"
Tsuzuki glared.
He wasn't complete idiot. He knew there was no way he could fully free Hisoka from Muraki. He couldn't free Hisoka from the madman, but he could help Hisoka find himself. He can help Hisoka be himself. He can show Hisoka that he didn't have to be the 'puppet' in a puppet show. He can help Hisoka cut the strings that pulled at his every move. He'll show Hisoka that he wasn't the puppet Muraki proclaimed that he was.
He'll show Hisoka who he really was.
Looking down at his partner's limb body, Tsuzuki brushed locks of blonde hair from Hisoka's pale face. He closed his eyes, memorizing the feeling of having Hisoka in his arms before he opened them again. Looking up at Muraki, he told him his choice.
"I pick…"
I want the truth. Who am I?"Boo, this chapter is short :/
