This chapter is Tsuzuki's POV.
Disclaimer: I don't own Yami no Matsuei, or any characters or settings the series contains.
I just finished my first case with my new partner.
Now he's missing.
I've been looking for him all day. We were supposed to meet with Konoe, but he never showed up. I checked his house, but he wasn't there, either.
I hope he hasn't left.
I honestly don't know where he would be. I looked throughout the office, despite most of the day having been a day off for us. He wasn't anywhere inside, not at his desk, or the library, not even the Mansion of Candles.
I don't understand why he would be outside. It's cold, and pouring rain, but I haven't searched the grounds yet, so perhaps he is out here.
I really hope he hasn't left.
Getting my hopes up was stupid.
I'm so tired of losing partners. I want someone to stay with me, to prove I'm not more trouble than I'm worth.
I hoped Hisoka would stay.
It was stupid to think he would.
I've come to the sakura grove, the last place left to check. After this I should probably just go home if I don't find him. He'll just be one more partner who has abandoned me.
Wait...there, ahead...is that him? I can see a person lying on the ground, some distance away. Small, pale, slim...Hisoka!
Why is he lying in the mud in the rain? Is he hurt?
I hurry closer, worried about my partner. He raises a hand before I reach him. I can see his muscles tighten even through the haze of falling drops.
He screams suddenly, terrified, for no apparent reason. The sound startles me, and I freeze, watching him in shock as he claws at his face and arms. He screams again, calling for help, crying out against an invisible foe.
I can't help but wonder if he's gone mad as I rush to his side. His eyes, usually such a vibrant green, are dull and unseeing. It's disturbing to see him like that, just like when I caught him trying to sneak into the secret documents room.
He's still fighting, raising bloody scratches on his skin. I realize with horror that not all the crimson lines are blood. Some are magic-a curse, written into his skin and flaring to life.
I have to stop his thrashing before he really hurts himself. I catch hold of his arms, holding him down. He's kicking me now, but I shift position to hold his legs under me as well.
I'm calling his name, trying to wake him from the day terror that has ensnared him. He doesn't respond to me, but I can see tears leaking from between his lashes.
He goes limp suddenly, and I realize that he's given up. He knows that he can't free himself. I watch sadly, nearly overcome with worry as his head falls to the side, tears flowing freely down his face. I can feel him shaking, and I call to him, over and over, hoping to break him free of his mental terror.
Finally, he opens his eyes. The leaf green irises once again reflect light; though they are filled with such fear that I almost wish he hadn't opened them. He stares at me for several seconds before he recognizes me.
Once I know that he won't do any further damage to himself, I move off him, allowing him to get up.
He doesn't try to move, though, aside from shutting his eyes again. He's too pale and too thin, with dark circles under his eyes. I can tell that he hasn't been sleeping well, and I doubt he's eaten much.
So I scoop him up out of the mud to carry him back to my house. He's lighter than he should be, and cold. He's probably been out in the rain for a while.
He clings to my shirt, shaking, and still crying, though I can tell he's trying not to. He doesn't put up a fuss at being carried as I suspect he normally would have, which goes far to say how tired he is.
Within minutes he has fallen asleep, and his grip on my shirt lessens ever so slightly.
I make it back to my house with no trouble, though it is a bit difficult to get out my key, unlock, and open the door while holding him.
I take him to the bathroom and try to wash some of the mud out of his hair and clothes before I remove his soaked garments and exchange them for a dry shirt of my own.
His skin is still too pale, and cool to the touch. He looks small, frail, in my shirt, the hem of which reaches to his knees.
I carry him to my room and put him to bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and plucking a stray sakura petal out of his hair. His face has relaxed, and I realize he's fallen into the dreamless sleep of the extremely exhausted.
I smile sadly, looking at him. It's horrible to think about all he had to go through in life.
I move away from the bed, exchanging my own dripping, mud covered outfit for a clean shirt and pair of pants. I ignore the soggy pile, choosing instead to pull a chair closer to my bed so I can watch over my partner.
I'm glad that he didn't leave. I really wanted him to stay...because...
...he needs me.
He needs me to show him compassion.
And I need him too, I think
Disclaimer: I don't own Yami no Matsuei, or any characters or settings the series contains.
I just finished my first case with my new partner.
Now he's missing.
I've been looking for him all day. We were supposed to meet with Konoe, but he never showed up. I checked his house, but he wasn't there, either.
I hope he hasn't left.
I honestly don't know where he would be. I looked throughout the office, despite most of the day having been a day off for us. He wasn't anywhere inside, not at his desk, or the library, not even the Mansion of Candles.
I don't understand why he would be outside. It's cold, and pouring rain, but I haven't searched the grounds yet, so perhaps he is out here.
I really hope he hasn't left.
Getting my hopes up was stupid.
I'm so tired of losing partners. I want someone to stay with me, to prove I'm not more trouble than I'm worth.
I hoped Hisoka would stay.
It was stupid to think he would.
I've come to the sakura grove, the last place left to check. After this I should probably just go home if I don't find him. He'll just be one more partner who has abandoned me.
Wait...there, ahead...is that him? I can see a person lying on the ground, some distance away. Small, pale, slim...Hisoka!
Why is he lying in the mud in the rain? Is he hurt?
I hurry closer, worried about my partner. He raises a hand before I reach him. I can see his muscles tighten even through the haze of falling drops.
He screams suddenly, terrified, for no apparent reason. The sound startles me, and I freeze, watching him in shock as he claws at his face and arms. He screams again, calling for help, crying out against an invisible foe.
I can't help but wonder if he's gone mad as I rush to his side. His eyes, usually such a vibrant green, are dull and unseeing. It's disturbing to see him like that, just like when I caught him trying to sneak into the secret documents room.
He's still fighting, raising bloody scratches on his skin. I realize with horror that not all the crimson lines are blood. Some are magic-a curse, written into his skin and flaring to life.
I have to stop his thrashing before he really hurts himself. I catch hold of his arms, holding him down. He's kicking me now, but I shift position to hold his legs under me as well.
I'm calling his name, trying to wake him from the day terror that has ensnared him. He doesn't respond to me, but I can see tears leaking from between his lashes.
He goes limp suddenly, and I realize that he's given up. He knows that he can't free himself. I watch sadly, nearly overcome with worry as his head falls to the side, tears flowing freely down his face. I can feel him shaking, and I call to him, over and over, hoping to break him free of his mental terror.
Finally, he opens his eyes. The leaf green irises once again reflect light; though they are filled with such fear that I almost wish he hadn't opened them. He stares at me for several seconds before he recognizes me.
Once I know that he won't do any further damage to himself, I move off him, allowing him to get up.
He doesn't try to move, though, aside from shutting his eyes again. He's too pale and too thin, with dark circles under his eyes. I can tell that he hasn't been sleeping well, and I doubt he's eaten much.
So I scoop him up out of the mud to carry him back to my house. He's lighter than he should be, and cold. He's probably been out in the rain for a while.
He clings to my shirt, shaking, and still crying, though I can tell he's trying not to. He doesn't put up a fuss at being carried as I suspect he normally would have, which goes far to say how tired he is.
Within minutes he has fallen asleep, and his grip on my shirt lessens ever so slightly.
I make it back to my house with no trouble, though it is a bit difficult to get out my key, unlock, and open the door while holding him.
I take him to the bathroom and try to wash some of the mud out of his hair and clothes before I remove his soaked garments and exchange them for a dry shirt of my own.
His skin is still too pale, and cool to the touch. He looks small, frail, in my shirt, the hem of which reaches to his knees.
I carry him to my room and put him to bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and plucking a stray sakura petal out of his hair. His face has relaxed, and I realize he's fallen into the dreamless sleep of the extremely exhausted.
I smile sadly, looking at him. It's horrible to think about all he had to go through in life.
I move away from the bed, exchanging my own dripping, mud covered outfit for a clean shirt and pair of pants. I ignore the soggy pile, choosing instead to pull a chair closer to my bed so I can watch over my partner.
I'm glad that he didn't leave. I really wanted him to stay...because...
...he needs me.
He needs me to show him compassion.
And I need him too, I think