Why you should never kick Muraki in the balls
Chapter Six: Insane is insane. Sick is sick.
A story by Kelly
Kelly says: Stupid Blaster-worm. I curse the one who invented it. Do you realize you just ruined my registration for next semester's subject??!! What if my results were lost????!!! If you wanna target Microsoft, why not just destroy the company's computers specifically?? Why the hell do you have to target Microsoft users??? Most of us are just laymen who use Microsoft simply because it's what everyone else uses and that there's no other options! Argh!
*cough*
Sorry about that.
Summary: It's nearly a year after the Kyoto Arc and Muraki is slowly losing himself to despair. This is a story about love, angst, humour, rage and why you should never kick Muraki in the balls. All will be explained. Soon.
Pairings: Not saying.
Warning: Will contain slash, graphic murders, traumatic recollections and the much-needed angst. Slight OOC. Read at your own risk.
Review replies:
Eria: @ . @
Spiget, DK-Adeena, Darkmaster, Yui-mag: Wan, I love lovely reviews ^^
Nel: To answer your question, you must first answer my questions below ~.^
Shaynie: Shaynie-san! Your email addy bounces back! How come? And please, I'd love your help with my blog!
Literary Eagle, Twylise: Yes, Muraki all tied up. . . .ah. . .actually, you'll probably get an inkling here why Muraki needs Hisoka to kill him. Or you might not get it at all. Coz dear Mu-chan is a little. . . .shall we say, confused?
Quotable Quotes From the Questionable sanity of Kelly:
"I know what people are saying. They're saying that my obsession with a gender-changing formula is a sign of repressed sexual desires with a more than healthy share of S&M. . . . . .it's kinda true actually."
~Watari Yutaka~
________________________________________________________________________
Catch me as I fall
Say you're here and it's all over now
Speaking to the atmosphere
No one's here and I fall into myself
This truth drives me into madness
I know I can stop the pain if I will it all away
Don't turn away (don't give in to the pain)
Don't try to hide (though they're screaming your name)
Don't close your eyes (god knows what lies behind them)
Don't turn out the lights (never sleep never die)
~Evanescence "Whisper"~
________________________________________________________________________
He does his best planning at night.
The schemes that his devious mind hatched up were not for the faint-hearted. Gifted with the enviable yet frightening ability to form complete and whole pictures from disparate strands, plots and machinations that could destroy the world had been thought up while lying innocuously in bed.
But tonight was not such a night.
No, Muraki, lying under the warm covers of the futon did not hatch any schemes nor plotted world domination.
He wondered instead, how he managed to sink to a level so low, his only bright and fervent wish is to die.
It had taken hours for the KoKakuRou to settle down after the bouya's little show. More time had to be spent to assuage Oriya's outright interrogation on who was responsible for provoking the boy to such degrees. His denials, given in bored monotones, did little to assure his friend. Yet after long silences filled only with the restless babble of the geishas did Oriya finally relented, leaving him to his peace.
So now he lay, on a thick, comfortable futon, the screens still left wide open despite the chill breeze of dawn and wondered. He wondered why he wanted to die. What ever happened to that bright shear of delight that filled him when he saw his little dolls in that dingy alley that day? Seeing the two of them fighting the oni had served to feed the dying flames of his obsession with power and death. Fueled by that rush, he had gone out and killed his first victim in 6 months.
And he was happy. The throb of ebbing life force spilling into him, the more real gush of warm blood soaking his hands, the death rattle of a young man who met his fate with wide, surprised eyes. . . .Muraki had rejoiced then. He thought that finally, finally, he was able to shake off despair's dark shadow. That he could once again, be himself.
But there is much to be said about denial.
He had gone on to the next victim with pure relish like an addict given another shot. But this addict was unpleasantly surprised to find that the rush he expected wasn't there. Oh, he was still excited, yes. But that was it. Even as he drank in the effervescent life force, the only emotion he could dredge up was boredom. All he could think about was what's taking her so bloody long to die?
Those murders were bait. You wanted to bait Tsuzuki and us. You succeeded. So why didn't you follow through with whatever you were planning with?
He froze suddenly, the hissed accusation from the boy ringing sharp in his ears.
What was his purpose in killing those people? To affirm his hold on life despite his every wish for it to not be so? To once again be the Muraki Kazutaka that was the bane of the Shinigami?
He shifted restlessly under the covers. He could not deny the death wish that plagued his every waking moment. He had expected it even. The entirety of his adult life was spent finding ways to exact the ultimate revenge on the monster that ruined his life. To have that driving force taken so abruptly away was to destroy his purpose of living. The only reason he had yet to take a knife to himself was Oriya. He could not kill himself in cold blood like that. Not when to do so would hurt Oriya. He loved his friend too much to do that. Not when Oriya was the only one to ever love him despite the monster that he became. All in order to kill another monster.
You'll fail. Because I am going to kill you.
Long, pale fingers spasm, clutching silver white hair tight and tugging ferociously as though the pain would drive the words and memories away. Curling up into a tight ball, Muraki tugged and tugged, not even caring when snapped strands started to drift down to lie like silver threads on the futon. The paradox that he had put himself into infuriated him.
He wanted to die.
Yet he killed more people, drinking their essence which was how he prolonged his life and increased his power in the first place.
But he still wanted to die.
So he killed more people.
Thus attracting the Shinigami's attention.
But when it did occurred, all he wanted was for them to leave him alone.
But he still want to die.
But he can't kill himself. That would make Oriya sad.
So he provoked the boy, Hisoka. Goading him into pulling the trigger.
But he still wasn't dead.
Absurdly enough, a poem he read long ago drifted through his mind. I find this world to be easily distressed, yet I cannot fly, for I am not a bird.
The sun was a fiery corona, burning the morning sky. Like a well-oiled machine, the restaurant came awake, serving the regular patrons that visited the place for more mundane reasons such as breakfast. The upper stories this side of the restaurant was quiet since it only housed the owner's quarters and the occasional special guest. When a certain albino guest is in residence, everyone knew better than to interrupt him with invitations to eat or even to clean his room.
So nobody witnessed the wreck that was Muraki as he tried to make sense of his own mind.
________________________________________________________________________
By 2.30, Oriya had gotten extremely worried.
Muraki was by no means a heavy sleeper. He tended to awake with the coming of dawn, the only times he'd get up late was after being out all night. Even then the latest he'd wake up was at eleven. So when 2.30 rolled by and still not a peep was heard from the main guest suite, Oriya got a little. . .agitated. After asking in the kitchens, he'd found out that no meal had been sent to Muraki's room nor did his friend asked for one. After also making sure that no, Muraki had yet to even step out of his room, Oriya, armed with a laden tray and a heavy heart, picked his way carefully to Muraki's room.
The caution he took with every step was almost laughable. If one didn't know any better, it would appear as though the room he approached contained a raging chimera instead of a friend who just woke up late. Stopping outside the as yet closed shoji (Muraki cherished his privacy like a squirrel cherished his nuts), Oriya balanced the tray nervously between suddenly sweaty hands and wondering, for the thousandth time, why he put up with the man.
"'Riya-chan? Whatcha' doin'?"
Startled, Oriya let out an oath, nearly upsetting the tray. A small hand had grasped his kimono and was tugging in childish impatience. At his accidental epithet though, a birdlike giggle came somewhere near his knee.
"Mama says that's a bad word!" came the triumphant crow. "'Riya-chan used a bad word!"
The solid wood column seemed a tempting thing to bash his head against. Sighing, Oriya looked down and gave the little giggling sprite a strained smile.
"Eri-chan," he sighed again. Little Eri was the daughter of a faithful patron of the KoKakuRou, a Ikegami Shimpei, one of the few people who have yet to discover the other side of the elegant restaurant, coming instead for the polite, attentive service and quality food. Oriya much preferred it that way. Having people who are innocent of the restaurant's major profit venture help him keep his somewhat shaky faith in the goodness of the world. Ikegami's family was one of it. The first time the family came, together with little Eri, the 7 year old had taken an immediate liking to Oriya, exclaiming that 'Riya-chan' is really pretty. Like a rambunctious puppy, she had also taken up the delightful, if somewhat trying habit of trailing him around, using his long hair as a guide and when the occasion warrants it, an attention-getter.
Normally though, he never let the girl follow him up to the second floor, where the geishas keep their quarters, and especially not this wing of the second floor. As much as he loved Muraki, he also knew Muraki. He preferred Eri alive, hale and healthy. Not broken, bleeding or dead. The other workers must have not noticed her. When it suited her, Eri could be quiet as a shadow. Usually when she was up to no good.
"Eri-chan" he tried. "You know you shouldn't be up here."
He was cheerfully ignored in favour of the closed shoji.
"What's inside, 'Riya-chan? And why you taking food in here? Is someone sick?"
"Why are you, Eri-chan. Mind your grammar."
"'Kay. Why are you taking food inside? Is someone sick?"
She also had a one-track mind sometimes.
"It's nothing, Eri," he said hurriedly. "Why don't you go back down? Your parents must be loo-"
Too late. With all the innocent naivety, guilelessness and bravado of someone too young, she had slid the shoji open. And Oriya, laden as he was with the tray could do nothing to stop her.
Oriya managed to restrain the string of colorful descriptives that would have Eri shrieking in delight. Heart pounding, mouth dry, Oriya hurried in after her, jostling the tray and nearly upsetting the miso.
"Eri-chan!" he hissed in panic. "Get out of. . .here. ." his mouth dropped open in slack-jawed surprise.
Eri was bouncing on Muraki's unmade futon, the man himself still under the covers though sitting up and eyeing the energetic bundle on his knees with something akin to dazed surprise. What had Oriya gaping in astonishment was Muraki's less than stellar appearance.
Damn, Muraki looked like hell.
His shirt was rumpled beyond salvation and his hair a veritable mess of flyaway silver-white mop. But what really got Oriya's attention was the parchment-like hue of Muraki's once fair skin, the dark purple shadows that colored underneath his eyes and that spots of blood were dotted all over his hair. The reason became apparent a moment later as his eyes fell on clumps of hair, glimmering in sunlight and strewn like silver threads all over the covers of his futon.
"Shit," he whispered softly. All unnoticed, Oriya hurriedly put the tray down and tried to think of a way to approach his apparently unstable friend while still keeping his own skin intact and Eri preferably alive.
As Oriya fretted in a most un-Oriya-like manner in a corner, Eri bounced and asked Muraki, which in Oriya's opinion meant she had signed her death warrant, "Are you sick?"
________________________________________________________________________
"Are you sick?" Bounce bounce bounce.
Oriya cringed and waited for. . . .something. His body was tensed for action; either to run and snatch Eri up to safety, fight off Muraki or maybe even plead for Eri's life. But his worries appeared unfounded for the moment.
Muraki, instead of snatching Eri off into a whirl of white light or even killing her outright, blinked slowly and said, hesitantly, "I'm. . .sick?" He brought up a pale, trembling hand, covering his scarred eye which thankfully, was blanketed under a fall of hair.
"Yeah! Yeah!" Bounce bounce. "Are you? 'coz when I'm sick, mama always bring me food up and 'Riya-chan got you food too so you gotta be sick right? Are you are you?"
A bewildered shake of the head, tossing the already messy hair this way and that. "I think I'm insane, not sick."
Eri appeared puzzled by the rather weird admission while Oriya worked himself up into a full scale panic.
"How can you tell that you're insane?" Eri demanded. "If you're insane, how can you know you're insane? If you're insane, you're insane. I don't think you can still say that you're insane coz then you'd just be doing insane stuff and not sitting around saying you're insane!"
And it seemed also, that Muraki, holding a degree in medicine with a head full of arcane knowledge and enough power to summon up demons from other dimensions, had been stumped by a 7 year old.
"I'm not. . .insane?" he tentatively tried, as though waiting for confirmation from the little girl currently shaking her head at what she thought was a display of alarming idiocy for an adult.
"Of course you're not insane!" Eri rolled her eyes dramatically and giggled, patting Muraki's head, in Oriya's opinion, rather condescendingly. "I think you're just sick," she nodded to herself. "Aha, sick. Coz you don't look well. If you're insane you won't be sitting here and saying you're insane, right?"
It was obvious that Muraki was supposed to agree with her. Timidly, he nodded also and eyed the little bouncing girl with fresh confusion. "I'm. . .sick?" he tried once again.
"Very good." Another pat. "So you gotta eat so that you'd get better, okay?"
Another timid nod.
"'Kay! I gotta go now! Mama's gonna get mad if I'm gone too long! Get well soon, ne?" With another last pat, another last bounce and a last giggle, Eri shot up, waved goodbye to the stunned Oriya and ran out of the room. Oriya waited until the last echoes of tiny feet pounding down the stairs faded before turning to Muraki.
His friend still had a somewhat bemused look on his face, compounded by the rapid blinking.
"Kazu?" Oriya asked, hesitant. "Are you alright?"
Muraki shut his eyes briefly and opened them again, the confusion not even diminished slightly. Strangely, hope was mixed in with the confusion. "She said I'm not insane," was his reply.
"Ah. . .right."
"I'm sick so I have to eat."
"Ah. . . ."
Muraki ran out of words then, staring down at his clenched hands on top of the covers as though he had never seen his hands before. The torn strands of hair still littered the covers and futon like so many silver gilt and he picked at them absently.
"I had a headache," he said by way of explanation.
"I understand," Oriya said soothingly. He brought the tray over, setting it to the side carefully. He lifted the black, lacquered bowl of miso soup and placed it gently in Muraki's hand. "Eat up," he smiled softly. "You have to get better right?"
Muraki nodded and began taking careful sips of the hot soup. The rest of the food was finished in silence as Muraki ate slowly, almost mechanically and Oriya, with the utmost tender care, wiped the spots of blood away.
******************
to be continued
******************
A/N: I love Muraki. Have I ever told you guys I love Muraki? Well I do. I love the guy. I don't love his methods of torture and killing but I do love the force and charisma that is so much a part of his makeup. But. . .that force and charisma seems to be missing in this chapter. A rather adorably lost and confused Muraki is what we have instead. Aah. . .still love the man.
Help me out here people; I'm not sure when to end this story. As usual, please vote and this time, I promise I'll let you guys know the result! ^^
Q1: When should the story end?
a) After you guys find out what I mean when I say why you should never kick Muraki in the balls.
b) Continue on my merry way and maybe, make Muraki a Shinigami? It's an interesting concept, as evinced by Evil Asian Genius's "The First Death".
c) Crazily enough, I want to do a YnM/Harry Potter crossover. Can you imagine how cool it is to have Muraki making merry mayhem in Hogwarts??? I was thinking of crossing over either in this story (with the Muraki that's been kicked in the balls but not a Shinigami or a kicked Muraki who's a Shinigami) or after End of the Worlds. What do you think?
d) A mixture of the above. Go crazy.
Q2: Do you guys want to know the pairings?
I was thinking of keeping it a secret till it's very obvious and some of your guesses have even caught me by surprise. So do you want to know? I will be going by majority here.
PS: for question 1, do please give me an opinion. It doesn't matter if you think that since I'm the writer, I can do whatever I want. I really appreciate the support but I would love also to know where you guys think the story should go to. I can't count the number of times when your guesses actually brought my other plots to heretofore unplanned avenues! So do vote, ne? Jaa!