Fearing

Don't fear any kind of weapon. Only fear what you or someone else can do with it.

A/N: WARNING! This chapter is probably disturbing and not for the weak hearted at one point. There is a rather small or fair size of gruesome details about blood etc. If you don't like that, you may want to skip that part. It's marked for those people.

Please review and tell me what you think!

~*~*~*~

Tsuzuki sat back into the seat, eyes still focused on his young partner. They vacation was beginning to turn into a nightmare, which also caused Hisoka to become…well, insane basically.

His thoughts went back to Yukio, who was currently sleeping beside his brother in a chair or something. The man's statement had angered Tsuzuki greatly at the time. He had gotten up and began demanding for explanations that he knew Yukio wouldn't know. Tsuzuki regretted it also. It wasn't Yukio's fault yet, he felt like spitting every angered thought at the man.

After the argument, Tsuzuki ended with shoving Yukio out of his way and stomped down stairs, well not really since he didn't want to wake Hisoka. They haven't spoken since. It's been what? Perhaps three hours already.

Two hours ago, Tatsumi had called again. He had informed Tsuzuki that they, as in Watari and himself, were coming tonight. They had gotten a flight to Jamaica and were also able to get the train tickets as well.

The thought of Tatsumi and Watari coming at night made Tsuzuki think of evening, and when he thought of evening, he though of sleep. Everyone else was asleep, anyway. He was beginning to doze off himself, wanting to collapse into the same peaceful expression on Hisoka's face.

Tsuzuki yawned and did just that.

~*~*~*~

"I still think you're pushing the boy's limits. We still have three days for the attack. No need to rush," James said, watching intensely as his second group was splitting into their appropriate teams to practice.

Anthony scowled and leaned back until he was against the wall. "Honestly," he said, "I believe everything is going perfectly well. Even Yukio fell right into place. He too knows the boy must be sacrificed."

"Come now, Anthony! You're joking, right?" asked James. "Hey! Team four of Fortunes #12-16! No wondering around with the other teams! Begin your lesson or you will be punished once more! Hurry!"

"Giving them numbers is so pathetic, really."

James glared at the older man. "I was instructed by Rosa to give each a number, remember? I recall even you have a number."

"Number one and don't forget it," proclaimed Anthony, keeping his hood over his face. No one but Rosa, James, Zenshin, and Yukio had ever seen his identity. "Rosa is still a fool."

"Hush!" cried James. "She can hear you probably."

"She left, James. She's researching the area where the warning attack will be," assured Anthony.

The groups had gotten into teams and were beginning their training.

James groaned and went over to a group near the far end. "All right, which one of you isn't concentrating. Don't bullshit me because I can tell."

How can he when he doesn't know how to read minds himself?

"You!" James pointed a boy towards the middle. He possessed beautiful golden eyes and straight jet-black hair that was tied in the back. "Come forward."

The boy swallowed and cringed visibly. He took the few steps until he was only a foot away from his master. "Yes, Master."

"Don't ever fool around again. You've been slacking off number 14," explained James, crossing his arms in a motherly manner. He hated when he was criticized for his weak ability, but didn't mind. Either way, his intelligence was far greater and he could frighten his training groups easily. "Perhaps a two hour punishment will do you good."

"No! I'm sorry!" the boy cried, kneeling down and bowing his head for mercy. Little droplets were forming on the ground with each tear that trickled down his young face. "Please…"

James shook his head. "You know my standards. One mistake, and that's it. I don't allow flaws in my training program. Perfection is a necessity here."

Anthony sighed, standing. He truly thought James's idea, as a small punishment, was inane. But, Anthony enjoyed it. Since, he himself, was the small punishment. Usually, if James couldn't get a hold of him, he would either increase the punishment or place them in a pure black room until Anthony was free.

"No! Please! I'm afraid to go near him again!" he begged, clinging to James. The other similar aged students all looked away refusing to meet his sorrowful expression. Each of them has at least had a small punishment once.

Ignoring his please, James hauled the boy up by his arms and dragged him to Anthony. "I'm sure you will find him amusing again. A stubborn one, he is. Two hours and I want him back in his dormitory."

Anthony chuckled at the boy, leaning close, hoping to frighten the tremulous form. He never spoke to anyone of the training groups either unless it was his own. He nodded at James and shielded the boy with his cloak. They both vanished instantly, although there was a small cry of horror from the boy reverberating.

James gave a malignancy smile. He rarely ever had this side to himself unless training or in combat. He knew he was already corrupted with power and greed. Why else would he befriend Anthony?

Within the next two hours, the boy would be tortured with every fearful thought that was imaginable. Anthony only allowed the torture to come from the boy's mind, creating an illusion. Despite it's lack of reality, it would seem perfectly real and deadly to anyone who was caught in it.

That thought caused James to ponder on Hisoka. For, Anthony did the exact thing. And within two hours, he knew Anthony would bring Hisoka into another illusion of what he feared most. Hurting his beloved whom he would think…would betray him.

James cackled and turned to see the groups staring at his form, obviously frightened and disgusted by his routine.

"Anyone else want to join him?"

It did not take even a split second for the training to intensify quickly.

James stared at his watch. It was 7:06.

~*~About an Hour Later~*~

Hisoka gave a silent yawn, stretching his arms high above his head. His joints pulled loose and were almost completely ready to be used once more. The thought of hunger was his reason for awakening. Anyway, he felt as if though he slept for at least five or four hours, which is a treat for him.

Searching his surroundings, his eyes landed on Tsuzuki, sunk into a chair, snoring softly.

Hisoka's heart ached and blood began rising to his cheeks. He knew their relationship was going to fall apart if he didn't control himself. Tsuzuki would say it was not his fault, yet, Hisoka felt it still was his fault for not able to have the strength to resist the attacks.

He spun his legs over the mattress and stood up. Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away form his closest friends and headed into the kitchen.

"I guess Yukio must have fallen asleep with Zenshin," Hisoka said quietly to himself. He would have liked to check on Zenshin's current condition. However, he swore he needed to eat now or he would collapse on the fifth step. Well, actually, he didn't want to wake Yukio or Zenshin up.

Entering the kitchen he noted the time on the microwave. It was 8:05 in the evening. Had so much time gone by that quickly already? Must have.

Hisoka began fishing through the cabinets, locating some soup, vegetables, fruits, cereals, breads, pastas, and various juices and sweats. He decided to make some chicken soup for everyone.

He first thought he should quickly use the bathroom and clean up, but then realized the bathroom was upstairs. Instead, he just decided to wash up to his arms in the kitchen sink, to prevent the food from getting any strange bacteria in it.

As he began running the sink, he heard a loud snort of some sort. He instantly shut off the sink. He headed back to the living room, and found Tsuzuki still asleep. The man must have just heard the water and shifted his head to the other side.

While his eyes were once again glued to Tsuzuki, he caught sight of the man slightly shivering. Well, it was rather cold.

Hisoka went to the door and snatched his and Tsuzuki's coat and headed back to the elder. He leaned forward carefully placing his coat gently over Tsuzuki's shoulders then proceeded to cover the man entirely with the longer one.

"Idiot. You're going to get ill one of these days," he scolded, gently nudging the broad shoulder. He went back into the kitchen to wash up and get the materials.

Once done cleaning, Hisoka grunted as he reached high up to grab the vegetables he needed to slice up. He then opened the refrigerator and found some sliced chicken.

"Eh…They're still too large. I guess I'll cut these too," he announced, setting the food down on the empty counter.

Within the lower cabinets, he discovered a large enough pot to use and set it upon the stove, which was still off.

First, he thought, I'll slice up the food. Unlike his partner, Hisoka usually always sliced the food first. Tsuzuki had his routine of getting the water boiled and such then slicing the food as the water boiled.

He began sliding open drawers, trying to find the one where the utensils were kept. By the third one, he found a large yet slim knife lying alone inside.

The microwave already read 8:45. (a/n: this is suppose to be slow, but, eh.)

~*~*~*~

James yawned lazily, but kept a stern look. He marched slowly around each team, analyzing each position and at times, thoughts.

"Remember, the enemy will show no mercy. Keep your mind on one idea and do not get distracted. Even if your teammates have fallen you do not aid them. Continue your own task. It's only a matter of time before you will become experts and will take the final task," he said almost cruelly. He watched as many of the children shuddered at the thought.

The last task was the most painful one indeed. Each person over the age of 12 goes through the last task as the first. According to what James told them, those over 12 provide a threat if not taken over completely. And in order for that to ever occur, they take the last task instantly. Your very soul is taken.

Everyone knew James's soul was taken as well, however, his was not at all like the children's last task. He willingly sold it for greater power, allowing him to walk freely as if though still with a soul. The only true difference between James and the other soulless bodies is that Rosa can shatter the glass in, which carries his soul, immediately killing James. Rosa, however, cannot shatter the other souls. This is because it makes them perfect and obedient. James, on the contrary, is not perfect and obedient.

The only way the soulless bodies could die is simply by being killed by another. Usually if this does happen, then the glasses will crumble into pieces of dust, freeing the soul. The only problem is that the Warlock has created such a way where the souls will be kept and will be given to him to feed off. Just like…

"James! James!"

James snarled and spun around to see Rosa entering. Wonderful…

"What is it, Rosa?" he asked, appearing pleased to see you. "I was told you were away."

Rosa nodded with her smile so beautiful and seductive it made James sick. "I was indeed away, mi amor," she whispered, placing a soft kiss against James's lips.

He felt like gagging. She had this odd tendency to toy around with others this way. James found it repulsing.

The chanting of his group paused. He knew what they had done. Each time Rosa or James entered, they ceased to continue their tasks and kneeled down like the obedient slaves they were.

"I was just double checking the area where our warning will be set," Rosa exclaimed crossing her slim arms over her chest. She wore a lot of dazzling jewelry. "It seems there will be about one hundred personas where we plan to attack. A good amount to frighten everyone off."

James mentally groaned. He found this almost pointless. Chase people off because of an unknown attack, then chase them around the globe again to torture them and make them nothing my sad and soulless toys, and blah blah. Of course, he did not say this to himself in his mind at the moment for Rosa would sense it.

"Of course, Rosa," he simply agreed. "Now, what do you want?"

"Impatient, verdad?" she asked, smiling. "I want you to tell Anthony that I Hisoka by the last day of the attack. No excuses. The Warlock wants him as a gift by the day of the battle. And we do what we can to please him."

James ignored her. She made no sense at times. Especially, with her thick Japanese accent and her Spanish words mixing in. It was so irritating!

"I'll do what I can, Rosa," was all he said.

"Wonderful. I'll be away for a few hours. Good bye, amor," she declared softly, blowing him a kiss before snapping her fingers and vanishing off.

"Show off."

He studied his clock as he turned his group. They had begun chanting or doing what it was he assigned them to execute.

It was 9:03

~*~*~*~

(Slightly gruesome part for those who don't want to read it-skip this little section)

Hisoka gulped. For some odd reason the knife caught his attention clearly. It wasn't the fact the weapon was left alone in an entire drawer, but something else. It almost felt as if though it was crying out to him.

"This is pathetic," Hisoka said in a fierce whisper. "It's nothing but a simple utensil for slicing your food. Or…other meat areas…of the body." He paused, shocked by his own words.

He studied the deadly object seriously. It had a beautiful well made wooden handle. Spotless of any thought that it had ever been used. An oak color was tightly wrapped around it, reflecting the light of anything that shone upon it. Attached to it, was the long, approximately five inches in length, razor blade. Hisoka was amazed at how vividly he could spot his own reflection, as if though he was looking into a mirror.

He shook his head, feeling ridiculous about how much detail could describe such an object. His hand began reaching for it.

"Aah!"

A sudden wave of fear and panic collided with him just before his fingers stroked the wooden handle. His eyes grew wide at what thoughts were erupting from his own mind.

There he was, griping the knife in a manner a killer would clutch it. Before him was his Tsuzuki, concerned and slightly frightened. He watched himself advance on his one true friend, raising the weapon high above him before striking with a deadly blow into Tsuzuki's chest.

He grinned insanely, removing the knife, and plunging it into the left eye, turning and turning until Tsuzuki shrieked from the gruesome agony inflicted upon him by his partner. Again, Hisoka took the blade out, diving it into the gut this time, repeatedly thrusting the blade deeper and deeper with each blow.

Green eyes lifted to meet one amethyst. Blood had soaked the body everywhere, oozing countless ounces of organs, skin pieces that were torn off, and blood. Hisoka watched with horror as he began laughing softly and stood straight. His illusion person leaned over to place a kiss on those blood-drenched lips. Licking his lips hungrily, Hisoka backed away and held the knife sideways.

"Tsu…Tsuzuki…I can't…" He gasped. No matter at what length he went to use all his strength, he could not stop the images.

His other self whispered something inaudible and slashed the weapon deeply and directly at Tsuzuki's throat, killing the elder instantly.

Hisoka gasped and not even knowing snatched the knife in the process of recoiling back. His hand went instantly over his lips, trying to keep himself from vomiting at the thought. The hard pressure against his back caused Hisoka to spin around and find the sink.

Quickly, he turned the faucet on cold and proceeded to splash his face with water a few times, soothing the sensation of vomiting into his gut twisting uncomfortably.

Gasping and shutting the faucet off, Hisoka leaned on his elbows, eyes shut. He slowly opened them again, to find the knife in his grip.

For a moment, he had the crazy urge to scream and chuck the thing as far as possible. But then, his minds felt as if though he it was loosing complete control and fading into a blank world.

He left the kitchen, cautiously creeping towards where Tsuzuki slept.

What feared him the most now was not the weapon, but what he could do with it.

~*~*~*~

9:04 was what Anthony read. He smiled proudly as he gently lied the boy down into his respectful bed, covering him with a sheet afterward. He truly did enjoy himself with this young one. Anthony was certain he would not need to see him anymore.

He spun into his cloak, fading from the dormitory he was in, into his personal room. Confirming no one had tried to enter or meddled with anything that belonged to him, Anthony shoved his hood to the back, allowing his eyes to focus clearly.

He sat down on a large pillow that was well designed with beads and jewels from Egypt. It was given as a gift, along with many of his other India like furniture. He found the cushions inhabitants in India use were much more comfortable than any others he tried did.

Reaching over, he drank a golden goblet full of dark red wine and set it down upon a tiny marbled table especially created for him. Beside him he took a picture of Hisoka and Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki had his arms firmly around his partner, who was flushed and at the same moment shooting a dirty look at whoever took the photo.

"Well, now. I have one splendid minute before shoving you forcefully into another illusion, Hisoka," he whispered in a hush tone.

He stood up and stretched before removing his cloak and long sleeved shirt; then removed his shirt that lied underneath the previous, leaving him with a simple tank top. He strolled toward his smallest desk that held a mirror, and seized a handful of dark colored beads. Each bead possessed a symbol from some sort of dark warlock that were once legends, yet still exist to Anthony.

With his free hand he took some herbs and bottles of liquids. He went back to where he had previously sat; only instead, he sat farther ahead so that he lied within the center of a large empty space.

Carefully, he set all his tools down and then crawled into his luxurious 'relaxation spot' (where the pillow and such furniture rested) and fished out a bottle of black and red ink and an ancient brush.

Settling himself in the center, he took the brush and dabbed it gently within the black and red ink creating a deep blood color. Anthony began drawing a pattern around his body on the ground with little effort. Most people like himself would have taken over twenty years to master the patterns of all dark arts, but Anthony was considered a precocious man. Well, that's what he was told often. He believed he was just much more experienced with such dark matters.

Satisfied, he leaned back, careful not to touch the drying ink, and took one of the scented bottles. Slowly, he began pouring it around the design, slightly smearing the areas where it hasn't dried. He did this intentionally. It had the scent of a decomposing body, which Anthony found comforting.

Tossing the bottle onto the pillows, not wanting it to shatter, he took the other two bottles and repeated his last action, only he scattered the scents on certain areas of the large design.

"Oh, looks like it's almost time," he said knowing mentally the clock in other rooms had shifted to read 9:05. "Almost time to play." He was pleased at how quickly he had done this.

He briskly took the herbs and crumbled them in his right hand. He leapt from his spot, landing five feet away from the pattern and drew his dagger out from his belt (many of his simple tools where tied to his centuries old belt.) Now, with his left hand he slashed his right forearm, letting a pleasurable sound escape his throat.

Placing his wounded arm down, he allowed the blood to flow smoothly into his hand, blood mixing with shredded herbs. He knelt and smeared his hand over entire pattern.

Lastly, he took the picture and held it with his bleeding hand, the blood immersing into the paper. Smirking, his eyes flashed a brilliant crimson and the pictures were flown slowly into the center of the dark pattern with the dagger then tossed upon it.

Throughout the entire moment, Anthony already knew the presence of the Warlock was there. He had requested to speak with the boy once. Anthony had agreed.

As the Warlock approached, he began to chant.

~*~*~*~

Tsuzuki had not bothered to stir since last, leaving his entire body venerable. His breathing was a soft snoring, but quiet and gentle. He had melted into the coats, allowing the warm flow of blood to return to his cheeks. He no longer shivered.

Staring down at the man, Hisoka studied him as he had done with the knife. The man's hair was flickering over shut amethyst eyes with every intake of breath. His lips were only slightly parted, but barely. And his expression was of happiness and pleasure.

A tiny droplet had streaked down Hisoka's left cheek, curving at the chin and plunging. It landed straight on Tsuzuki's nose. The man scrunched up his nose and sniffed, but did nothing more. He was still in a deep slumber.

"Tsuzuki…"

Hisoka's eyes narrowed at the name he spoke. His heart raced violently, causing a dull ache within his ribs. He knew he could not trust himself. But currently, he felt helpless to control any action he made.

Something's wrong with me. I can't stop it…

He drew the dagger high above the man's peaceful form.

Don't…. Don't do it. Don't be weak!

He tried to shriek for help or warning to awaken Tsuzuki, but his throat had ceased to exist at the moment. He was going to kill the man he loved.

Stop it! Whoever is doing this, stop it! Leave me alone!

Oh, Hisoka, don't be afraid of your own desire to kill. Kill him.

The voice distracted Hisoka far too much that he was unable to hear the loud knock repeating itself against the door.

No…Who are you?

Kill him!

No!

Don't deny it, child! Your blood is racing angrily for the desire to kill. You will have your hands soaked into your body, carrying the guilt. You are like that man you feared and hate.

Muraki…

Your insanity will bring you to a good friend of ours.

Your voice…

I suggest you kill him now, sparing yourself from the agony of your own illusion. Kill what will betray you. He only uses you like that man! He uses you for his own selfish ways so he won't be alone! You're nothing to him!

He uses me…

Hisoka's arm shook viscously.

Yes.

He will kill me from the inside.

Break his heart before he can kill yours.

Killing is my only escape.

Hisoka's tears began streaming down nonstop at every wretched thought of betrayal that had occurred within his short life and the after. Refusing to watch his horrid action, Hisoka turned his head away just as the weapon descended with such great speed Hisoka felt his arm throb.

The door blasted open with two figures alarmed standing at the entrance.

"Kurosaki-kun! Stop!"

The knife plunged harshly into fresh and clean flesh, tearing it to shreds.

~*~*~*~

A/N: Oh my. Anxious to know what happens to dear Tsuzuki? I loved this chapter for some odd…reasons. Please do review! It was rather shorter than the others, but still interesting, no? Did you all like it?