Puppet Master by Gaki
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Think of this as a slight intermission to all the angst. This chapter is more on Tatsumi, Oriya and the relationship they share with the other two (Tsuzuki and Muraki).
[1] = Book #8, Kyoto Arc, Flash back of Oriya of a young Muraki asking him this question.
--------------------------
Take a moment.
Sit down in a favorite chair and lean back for awhile. Do you remember? Do you remember that one moment where you weren't alone? Do you remember that one moment you felt alive? Or perhaps you'll remember a moment where you had to make a hard decision in order to make things right.
Maybe you'll see a familiar face again. A face you thought you'd never see again, even when that person never left you. Maybe you'll remember a promise long forgotten and smile.
Or maybe you'll cry.
Sit back. Make a cup of tea.
Do you remember?
--------------------------
The corridor of the building was much the same. It hadn't changed in all the years he'd been here. There on the wall, was the same small crack. They never did fix it. It didn't need to be fixed. It was just a small insignificant crack after all. It could easily be over looked. There were no windows in the hallway of the building. The only source of light was from the dimly flickering bulbs above. Those, too, needed to be replaced sometime soon. He'd forgotten the number of times those bulbs have been replaced. He'd forgotten the number of times he'd seen the same crack on the wall. He'd forgotten all those things.
The only thing he didn't forget was the day he had walked down this same hallway for the very first time.
The only thing he didn't forget was the feeling in the pit of his stomach as he opened the door of the office that would soon be his work place.
He brushed his hair from his face as he walked into the office, moving smoothly around the desks and chairs to reach the filing cabinet. The office was quiet; without Tsuzuki and Hisoka here it seemed less lively somehow. The two would usually be sitting in their chairs beside each other during this time. Hisoka would be either reading a book or looking over mission details. Tsuzuki, forever with a smile on his face for the younger man, would be trying to get him to speak up. That was Tsuzuki for you. He was always trying to make the people around him lighten up with his smiles. Always ready to offer his hand and grin.
It was so easy sometimes to almost forget their job when Tsuzuki was around. He was always smiling, his eyes were always shining brightly and his voice was always light. Sometimes, Tsuzuki reminded him of an actor playing a role. Pretending to be happy so that no one would ever think that he was actually hurting inside, that he was crying behind that grin he wore. Pretending. That was it. That was all he was doing. Pretending and acting. Tsuzuki was always smiling at him, after they were paired up as partners. After their introduction on that first day he came, after he returned from his training with his teacher, that was all Tsuzuki was doing. Pretending, lying to him with his oh so friendly smiles and happy voice. Hiding behind his mask of happiness so that he wouldn't know. So that he wouldn't worry over him. Pretending for his sake.
Pretending that everything was alright when it wasn't. Pretending and lying, like someone he used to know. Someone who was the most important person in his life while he was still alive.
Pretending, smiling at him that she was fine even when he turned his back and walked away, she would cry.
Lying to him that she wasn't scared, wasn't frightened. Pretending that she wasn't hungry even when she wasn't even able to walk any longer.
All for his sake. All that so that he wouldn't know, so that he wouldn't worry.
He hated that. Hated the fact that even though he was right there, he wasn't able to do anything to help. He couldn't chase away the fear and the hunger. He couldn't scare the angry dark clouds in from her eyes and bring sunshine into her life. He couldn't do anything to save her from herself. He couldn't stop her mind from slowly degrading, couldn't stop the insanity from taking over. He couldn't save the one person that was the most important thing in his life.
Nothing, there was nothing he could do but stand there and watch.
He found her outside, kneeling in the grass one day. It was a clear and sunny day, the clouds were littered about in the sky. There was a soft breeze that played with the long locks of his hair as he watched her. It looked so beautiful, her sitting there lost in whatever she was doing. So carefree and wonderful. It almost made him forget the times when she would suddenly cry, almost made him forget the wild looks in her eyes as she held onto him. He almost forgot that not long ago, she was so weak with hunger that she had to stay in bed for over a week.
He didn't want to disturb her. Didn't want to move her from her wonderful place among the grass and make her smile at him. Her painful smiles that tore at him. Her smiles with her teary eyes, telling him that she was happy. That she was happy even when she was going mad.
Closing his eyes, he brushed his hair from his face as he made his way towards his Mother. Heading up the small hill and standing behind her, he cleared his throat to get her attention.
He saw her back stiffen slightly before the dark head that was so much like his own turned around, a smile ready on her face. He tried to smile back, but he couldn't because it hurt. It hurt to pretend he was happy when he wasn't.
"Seiichirou! Look!" she said happily, turning around to face him. "Look!"
Looking down at his Mother, he kneeled down next to her as he asked, "What is it?"
Smiling wider, she held up her hands to him. Her hands which were currently covered in thick mud. "I made rice balls, Seiichirou! I made rice balls! I made them for you!"
Staring stupidly at his Mothers dirty hands, he felt hot tears welling up and spilling over his face. Rice balls, she said. She'd made them for him, she said. Feeling something inside of him breaking, he lunged forward and pulled his Mother into his arms, hugging her with everything he had. She went on, her voice muffled, saying how long it took to cook the rice. Saying how hard it was to form the perfect round rice ball for him.
She went on, asking him now. Why wouldn't he eat it? Wasn't he hungry? Was he waiting for her to eat first? It was okay, she ate already. She had already made some for herself.
And all he could do was hug her tightly as he cried. Saying the only thing he could think of at that moment.
"I'm sorry."
Closing his eyes, Tatsumi shoved the memory away. He didn't want to remember it. Didn't want to remember the shock, the terror and the horror of finding his Mother with dirt on her hands and her happy voice telling him to eat the rice balls she had made. Opening the drawer of the cabinet, he quickly put his files away before slamming it shut. He winced at the loud bang. Glad that there was no one in the office to see his sudden action, Tatsumi leaned forward, resting his forehead against his hand as he squeezed his eyes shut. His shoulders raised and fell with his breathing, his chest moving up and down as he pushed his emotions down. He swallowed, the motion sounding loud to his ears.
Opening his eyes slightly, he gazed at the top of his shoes for awhile.
They were the same; he had thought when he first worked with Tsuzuki. Oh, they looked nothing alike. It was in the way they smiled. It was in the way they tried to smile for him. They tried to pretend for him, so that he wouldn't worry. And in the end, it drove one of them crazy. In the end, it killed one of them. Raising his head, he gazed at his now empty hands. It drove one of them crazy, pretending to be happy for him. And it was his fault. In those three months, he knew Tsuzuki was suffering. He knew that behind that too happy smile was a tear streaked face. Whenever he would try and ask about it, Tsuzuki would only smile, shaking his head, saying that he was fine. That he was okay.
It was slowly killing him, he knew, being happy for his sake. It was slowly killing Tsuzuki.
It was just another case. A simple one at that. All they had to do was to lead a stray soul back onto the right path. A soul who refused to move on. The soul of a child, who had fallen over a bridge and drowned. It was just another simple case, it didn't require much work.
Yet, it was still hard. He found him standing there on the bridge. He was searching for it, that bridge that Tsuzuki had somehow found so easily.
So, there they were. Standing quietly on the bridge as Tsuzuki watched something. Slightly curious at what his partner was looking at, he moved closer. Stopping a few feet behind the violet eyed man, he held his breath at what he saw.
It was a little boy, no older than nine playing on the bridge. He was laughing, he sounded so happy. His laughter was light and clear, and it stung in his ears as he continued to watch silently. The boy hopped, giggled and then hopped around in a circle. All awhile he was humming happily. Acting as if he was still alive but he didn't know. How could a child so young know that he was in truth already dead?
So young, too young, to know the difference between life and death. And it stung somewhere in his chest as he continued to watch the little child play.
That's when they came. A couple dressed in simple clothing walking past him and onto the bridge. The man, perhaps somewhere in his late 30s, was holding onto the umbrella over their heads. His wife was holding a small banquet of flowers in her hands. They were a handsome couple, walking beside each other like that. He watched them silently, his eyes following their movements as they stopped, looking over the railing of the bridge.
He turned his attention back to the young boy as he stopped and smiled brightly at the couple. That's when he realized it, they were his parents.
"Mama! Papa!" The little boy smiled, running over to them, his arms open. "Mama!"
He didn't want to watch any longer, but he couldn't turn his face away.
Closer he ran to them, his eyes shining brightly with joy. "Papa! You came back!"
The couple didn't turn around; they didn't smile and welcome their son back into their arms. They couldn't because he was already dead. The boy didn't know that, so he frowned and came closer to them. He wanted to look away, oh how he wanted to look away. Yet he couldn't. So he watched as the small child raised his hands to hold the larger ones that belonged to his Father, only to stop when his Mother whispered brokenly into the still air.
"I miss you. I miss you so much."
She dropped the banquet of flowers into the river below. Her husband tightened his arm around her shoulders, his voice thick with emotion as he spoke in his deep voice.
"… let's go home."
Nodding, her hands covering her face as she cried, she turned back around and followed her husband.
They didn't take notice of him as they walked by. They didn't take notice of the son they left behind as he stared dazedly into the river below. The only people who noticed were Tsuzuki and him. Only they noticed the fear in the little boy's face. Only they noticed the slight shaking of his shoulders as he turned his face towards them, his eyes wide.
And only he noticed Tsuzuki's fists shaking at his sides. Only he noticed the unshed tears in his partner's face as the little boy ran towards them.
And when the boy stopped, staring up at Tsuzuki with his eyes overflowing with tears as he cried brokenly, "Mister… you, you can see me, right? You see me, don't you? Why… Mama and Papa. They…" He was the only one who noticed the way Tsuzuki slowly fell to his knees before the young boy, his hand reaching out to touch, but stopping half way. Only he noticed how Tsuzuki tried to smile as he brushed the boy's tears from his face.
"I'm sorry." Tsuzuki whispered. "… I'm sorry."
And the boy cried, throwing his arms around Tsuzuki as he screamed out mournfully. "I want to go home!! I want to go home!!"
He saw the way Tsuzuki clung onto the child as tightly as the boy clung to him. And when Tsuzuki looked up at him, his arms so tightly around the weeping boy, he was the only one who saw the tears in his eyes as he smiled.
"… I'm okay, Tatsumi."
"… Tsuzuki-san…"
He stood back up, pushing his glasses up as he turned around to walk back into his office. That had been the last case they had together. He couldn't stand to see the expression Tsuzuki had showed him countless of times before any longer. Smiling even when he was crying. Pretending. Lying. He couldn't stand it. It was as if his life was repeating itself in his death. As if he was being mocked by the Gods.
He couldn't make his Mother smile a true smile when he was alive and even in death, he couldn't make his partner smile a happy smile either.
He ended their partnership because they were lying to each other. One pretending to be alright and the other pretending that everything was alright. A partnership based on lies would never last long. It probably would've ended sooner, had he noticed the signs earlier.
He ended their partnership because he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help, to change those tear filled smiles into real happy ones. He left because he was afraid. He was afraid of failing once again.
"Yo! Tatsumi! I've been looking around for Tsuzuki and I can't seem to find him! Do you know where he is?" A cheery voice asked, bringing him out of his depressing thoughts.
Steadying himself, Tatsumi turned around to face the other man. Blue gazed into curious golden brown as he pondered over his answer.
He stood up as Tsuzuki raised himself up, his eyes dry and red from crying. Though, behind the redness there was a determination in Tsuzuki's eyes. A burning will to save his partner. As he continued to look into those eyes, he felt at ease and yet at the same time sad. He wasn't like Tsuzuki or Hisoka. His eyes didn't burn with that much determination.
He took off his glasses, rubbing the smooth glass as he spoke. "I will g-"
"No." Tsuzuki cut him off, looking over at him. "There are only three players in this game, Tatsumi. I won't let another person fall into it. I will go."
He stopped and Tsuzuki went on, his face hard. "I'm his partner. I'll bring him back. Please, Tatsumi… let me do this alone."
"… Tsuzuki-san."
"… Tsuzuki-san, won't be coming in to work today." He closed his eyes, pushing his glasses up. "… Neither will Kurosaki-kun."
Watari raised an eyebrow, his usual perky expression sinking in to reveal a more quiet and serious nature that he only used when he knew something was wrong. It wouldn't have been strange to find that it was only Tsuzuki that wouldn't be in, but to have Hisoka not going into work either was different. The young boy had never missed a day of work. Watching Tatsumi for awhile longer, trying to find out what the other man was trying to hide, he finally spoke up.
"… I suppose you won't say why."
Blue eyes looked into his own as Tatsumi spoke. "They will be fine."
"But Tatsu-!"
"Watari-san," Tatsumi cut him off smoothly, turning away from the blonde haired scientist. He paused for awhile, remembering the burning fire within Tsuzuki's eyes as he said he would be the one to bring his partner back, before speaking up once again.
"… When a person has something precious they want to protect. That is when they truly become strong." The silence that followed was a pleasant one as the other man absorbed his words. He closed his eyes, repeating it to himself as he thought of Tsuzuki. He will bring Kurosaki-kun back. Tsuzuki-san will bring him back. Behind him, Watari was watching his back, his eyes soft and understanding. A small smile formed on his lips as he crossed his arms, still staring at Tatsumi's back as he replied.
"People who know when to let go, people who let others help when they can't, are also strong. Tatsumi…"
His eyes opened as he heard those words. Turning around slowly, he was met once more with one of Watari's sunny smiles.
"Well, since my test subject isn't here, I'll be going now!" Watari said with the usual perk back in his voice before turning around and walked off.
Still standing in the main office, Tatsumi watched the blonde man as he disappeared.
"… Watari-san."
--------------------------
The weather was always very beautiful in Kyoto. The leaves were always a lovely reddish gold as they hung from the branches above. The air was always clear and crisp. In the city were everything seemed as if it was transported through time, the weather was always beautiful. In the city where the old mixed in with the new, memories were being made every day. Happy times visiting the many temples that littered around the old Kyoto roads. Wonderful sights to see in the beautiful koi gardens, feeding the fishes as they swam around in utter bliss of the human world.
Kyoto was a city where wonderful memories were made. Kyoto was a city where memories were colored by sepia.
It was also in this city that he, Mibu Oriya, came to know someone like Muraki.
Lifting his face up as a cool breeze passed by, Oriya quietly flipped through the sepia pages in his mind to that certain day so many years ago where he came faced to faced with Muraki Kazutaka.
Being the new kid in school was his worst nightmare come true. Being on stage, standing in front of countless strangers, it was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. Sure, in his Father's profession he was used to meeting new people nearly every day, but there was a difference. He was meeting them one on one, getting to know them whereas he was being put up on a stage like a freak show for all the students to gawk at. He flinched, keeping his head down as the Principal read the names of the new students out loud.
"--- Mibu Oriya and---"
He could already see the expression on their faces as he heard his name. Could already hear the words being whispered around even as he stood before them. The glares that he was looking away from as they realized his wealth.
"Mibu? You mean the son of the owner of KokakuRou? Ch' why is he in a public school? Why not one of those fancy private ones?"
"… Did you hear? Some are suspecting that it's also a Geisha house."
"… Shh, he's looking this way."
It continued through out the day. As he walked down the hallways towards his classes he could still feel their eyes on him. He hated it. Hated feeling as if he didn't belong with them and that only added to his hate towards his Father's profession. So caught up he was with his thoughts that he didn't notice another student in his way until they collided. Muttering a soft apology he quickly got down and picked up his pack only to be surprised when a pale hand reached down and grabbed his wrist.
"… Your wrist." A deep smooth voice spoke from above him. "… You practice bujitsu, don't you?"
He paused, not knowing what to do. As he slowly looked up, he could have sworn that his mind was stolen away by the gaze that resembled the moon.
Kyoto truly was a very beautiful city. The color sepia also matched with it. Old and seemingly forgotten, the people who lived in Kyoto could move about as they pleased. It was in this city that he had lived the last thirty odd years of his life. It was in this city that his memories were made and are forever being played back over and over again within his mind. It was in this city, inside this brothel, surrounded by these walls that he could remember the time when the person whose eyes could put the moon to shame really spoke to each other as if long lost friends.
It was never a surprise when he came to visit. It wasn't surprising either when even most of his Geisha have taken a liking to the young man whose hair was like fine moon silk and eyes like the beams of moonlight shining down from the heavens. Always proper and well dressed, he was the perfect gentlemen. Everyone liked him for his well behavior and smooth manner. But that was all they knew about him. They were familiar with his reserved and slightly condescending smile; they were always greeted with his smooth and firm voice but none of them saw beyond that. None of them were allowed to see beyond that.
Only he was. Only Mibu Oriya of the KokakuRou was allowed to see the person behind the beautiful moon.
So there they were, sitting across from each other in the slightly darkened room. It was his private room, separated from the rest of the restaurant by a koi garden. It was a simple room; there was a scroll painting of a geisha on the wall behind him. The lady was dressed in a lovely red kimono that brought out the stark white make upon her round face. Across the room on the other wall facing the geisha was a large fan. Upon the old folded pages of the fan was a lovely detailed art of a nightingale. The bird was perched on a thin branch of a cherry blossom tree. Its wings were spread apart, showing that it was either about to fly off again or was getting ready to sing its lovely song.
Either way, the room was quiet. The only sound that was audible was from the breathing from the two life forms and the sound of his tea preparation. The warm mist from the bowl swirled up, breathing across his naked hand before evaporating.
"You are getting better at it." Commented the pale person across from him.
"Yes," he replied, "I've had much practice in it."
There was a soft thoughtful 'Hm.' before Muraki spoke up once again. "I miss our jujitsu practices."
He paused for awhile, and then set his hand back to grinding the tea. "You always were the hands on type of person."
A soft and slightly amused chuckle was his answer before the room once again fell back into silence. The moon was high in the sky, shining down into the koi garden and the room with its unearthly light, and the crickets were rubbing their hind legs together in a course.
There were few things that can catch him off guard; however, the words that Muraki spoke next did just that.
"I have a brother."
He sat down outside the very same room, a fan in his hand. His thick black hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, the weather was getting hotter day by day and leaving it down was killing him. He would've gladly cut down his mass of hair, but he didn't. He didn't and the reason was a very simple one. Simple in his mind at least. He left it long because Muraki liked it that way. There were very few things in life that Muraki actually liked. He liked the taste of warm tea in the morning, especially if it was just freshly made. He liked the color white; saying that it amused him greatly that such a simple color could have so much meaning behind it. He liked dipping his fingers into things unknown, into the unsolved mysteries of life. But those things didn't matter to Oriya, not in the least. The only one that mattered was the fact that Muraki liked his hair long, and so he would keep it long.
Not like he would care if I actually chopped it off. He thought bitterly.
There were very little things that Muraki liked. But the one thing that he disliked, hated with a passion even, the most was his half brother.
He'd never met Muraki's brother in person. He brought his pipe to his lips, brows arching just a bit. No… once. Only once did he saw the person that was Muraki's half brother. Pulling the pipe from his lips, he lifted his face up, exhaling a swirl of smoke up into the Kyoto air as he thought of the darkest day in Muraki's life.
Kyoto's rural area was always beautiful. The endless miles of rice farms reached as far as the eyes could see. It was a beautiful day, the sun was high above in the sky, feeding the trees and crops with the much needed warm rays of life. Dragonflies and butterflies fluttered about around them, dancing in some secret dance that only insects would know of. Showing off to the large forms of the passing humans perhaps. It truly was a beautiful day. Too beautiful even for such a sad occasion.
The death of a family member was always a terrible occasion. Though he did not feel the sadness in his heart for the dead, he did feel a great deal of pain for the still living. Muraki was still only a young man, he'd only passed his high school entrance exam a few months ago, not old enough to live on his own yet. Even though he still had his faithful butler, Oriya still had certain concerns for his friend. One of them being the half brother that the pale haired youth would speak of when they were alone. He did not know much about Saki, though what he heard angered him.
Muraki had told him of the times he had tried to win his brothers kindness, only to be brushed cruelly away with a condescending smirk. Time and time again Saki had cruelly brought Muraki down with his cold words and the young man was slowly being driven mad with such treatment. The harsh treatment from his brother, a brother that was conceived the same day he was, only added to his anger towards their Father who laid with another lady while his Mother was with child.
He wasn't walking side by side with Muraki. Being only a friend of the family, he was walking along side with business partners and other friends of the Muraki household. But as they reached their destination, a family burial ground tucked away from the world and protected by tall trees, he saw the faces of the now orphaned young men.
And what shocked him was that, even as the two sons watched the lid of the coffin that held their Father captive, neither of them shed tears.
Looking back on that day, Oriya found that he really shouldn't have been shocked by that fact. Muraki had never held any affection or compassion towards his father. Muraki's Father was a man of pure business, as a doctor he took his work seriously. Perhaps a bit too seriously. He would spend hours and sometimes even days at work without notifying his family first. Muraki's Father was a man who took work before family. It was probably because of that that his Mother went mad. Or perhaps it was the fact that his Father became more and more distant, spending more time away from home and away from his family with another woman.
Either way, Muraki's Mother was plain mad.
His hair was such a strange color, especially since he was Asian. Who ever heard of a platinum blonde Asian man? He never asked Muraki about his hair color, it would be rude to ask such a question. But he could never help himself from staring at the silky strands of woven moon. His mouth quirked a bit. That was it. That was what Muraki's hair looked like. Woven moon silk. Beautiful and pale like the moon upon the sky above them.
And like the moon, he was so seemingly close, close enough to touch yet when one would reach out for him they would find that he was miles and miles away. Even after all the years they've known each other, Muraki was still such a mystery to him. It was as if there was something else he was holding back. Something he wasn't willing to share, even with him.
"She used to think the same thing."
Oriya blinked, finding an amused gaze looking back at him as he looked away from Muraki's hair. "What was that?"
A slight smirk as slender hands reached out to bring a cup of warm tea to his lips. Muraki muttered quietly after he swallowed. "My Mother. She used to think my hair was like moonbeams."
He couldn't fight down the slight embarrassment at being caught staring. "I see."
The smirk turned into a smile. "Do you know how to catch the moon, Oriya?"
"… catch the moon?"
A nod. He shook his head, wondering what Muraki was going to do.
The smile turned amused, almost playful in a way. "Then I will show you how to catch the moon."
Lowering his tea cup, Muraki placed it into the bright moonlight that was shining into the room. He pulled his hands back, looking back up at his friend as he continued to smile, his eyes greatly amused.
Confused, Oriya looked down and into Muraki's tea up. And he found, being reflected on the surface of the still warm tea, the moon smiling back at him.
"That, Oriya, is how you catch the moon."
Taking another long drag of his pipe, Oriya wondered briefly what the other man was doing. Oh, he was no fool; he knew Muraki was up to no good once again. He knew Muraki was out to 'fix his puppet' as he had said. It angered him, yes, to find that Muraki didn't cherish human life. But he also couldn't blame him. Muraki himself wasn't treated as a human when he was a child. From his memories of the times Muraki would tell him about his Mother, Muraki was more or less treated as an object, a doll. Something his Mother liked to play with when she had lost to her mind. When jealousy and insanity melted together until she realized that the only thing she truly owned was the son she had given birth to.
He didn't blame Muraki for the things he did. No, he didn't blame him at all. It was Life that had done that to him. It was Life that had turned him from the boy he once knew into the man he was now. It was Life and insanity and jealousy and anger and resentment that had molded Muraki into the seemingly evil person he was today. No, Muraki was not to be blamed for the things he had done in his life.
It was Life's cruel way in messing with people's lives that was to blame.
They were on their way home from school. It was another cold day, the autumn weather was strangely harsh this year and the clouds looked about ready to cry tears of unforgiving wetness down onto them. Yet, they strolled down the sidewalk quietly, as if the first signs of a rainstorm didn't bother them the least.
And it didn't, at least to him. It had been a tiring day and he wanted nothing more than a warm cup of freshly brewed tea to sooth his sore throat.
The winds howled around them, causing some lose leaves from the trees above to fall down. The person beside him stopped walking and, curious, he stopped also. The wind continued to howl as he watched the strands of pale hair play against the breeze.
"Oriya…" the deep voice spoke his name slowly. [1]
He tilted his head to the side, silently urging Muraki to continue. The other teen turned around suddenly, a strange yet sad smile upon his face as he spoke up again.
"Oriya… If I was to die before you. Even if it's fake. Would you cry a single tear for me?"
He was too stunned to answer and when he found his voice, Muraki had already brushed it aside.
Letting his head fall forward, the longer locks of his hair falling into his face, Oriya played that single memory over and over again in his mind. He was stunned, shocked beyond words, when Muraki had asked him that. He hadn't expected Muraki to say anything like that. Hadn't expected Muraki to already be thinking about his own death when he was only a teen of eighteen years. That was the one moment that made him realized that there was so much more to the person he considered his best friend. That even though Muraki shared most of his life with him, there were other things that the other man still held back.
"Oriya, if I was to die before you… a single tear for me?"
He gripped his pipe tightly in his hands, his expression slightly angered. "No… I won't cry for you, Muraki."
The cool Kyoto wind howled around him.
"… Because I won't let you die so easily."
Ahh so sorry for the long wait! I hope this chapter made up for it ^^; I had said that this was an intermission to the angst… only to make it have more angst. ^^; *is a bad author*
