[18 July 2013] Edited, because I notice people are still reading this old, old story, and I'm horrified at the grammar of my old self. -_- Also taken the opportunity to straighten out warnings in Author Notes.

Author Notes:

Hyah, sorry for the really long delay. It's not that I'm evil that I left you at the cliffhanger… just that I barely had time to write in the past few weeks. So please don't kill me.

The usual warnings, but worse. The rating is R now. (I apologize to unsuspecting readers whom I might have dragged along.) This chapter beats even the rape scene in sexual hints, and beats all previous chapters in morbidness. ^_^0 And I'm starting to wish I studied psychology for all the explanations I have to make here.

To Sunflower000: Hisoka was pointing the gun to Muraki's stomach, but Muraki tried to divert it upwards and so the bullet ended up in his shoulder. As for Tsuzuki, he was rather depressed that Hisoka didn't return his feelings, and subconsciously, he was still burdened by his past when people condemned his power. Muraki made use of this to confuse him and bring out his dark side. I thought of this dark side as somehow similar to the Multiple Personality Disorder. When one personality is in control, the other fades to the background, though it may still be conscious. (Just remember that this is my own imagination… heheh. I'm too lazy to do the research at this point of time.)

Italics are thoughts.
"Quoted italics" are flashback dialogues.
—Italics between dashes— are Hisoka's telepathic thoughts.

A Wing Short of Flying

..

This above all; to thine own self be true.

- Polonius, in "Hamlet" by William Shakespeare

..

Chapter Nine: The Deceit

..

.

"You're conscious," Tsuzuki said. "About time."

Struggling to sit up, Hisoka looked at him with dazed eyes. Tsuzuki waited patiently until they focused properly.

"Wh—" Hisoka spoke, but only a screeching sound came out. The boy rubbed his blemished throat shakily, then coughed and swallowed before trying again. "Where… is he?" he managed finally, the voice dry and rough.

"His room," Tsuzuki gave a random answer. He didn't care where Muraki had gone; it wasn't his concern if the doctor missed the show.

"He's still… alive?"

It was almost hopeful. What, did he think such a small wound could kill a man? He was still so green.

Tsuzuki nodded his answer rather nonchalantly. "Treating his wound now, I suppose."

Had his tone been too flat? Hisoka looked at him silently, searching his eyes.

Those green eyes…staring so…

He felt a strange sensation of déjà vu, looking at those eyes. The only firm element on this youth's skinny frame.

Like a mirror.

He felt as if there was something he should remember, but what? There was a constant buzz in his brain that kept interfering with his thought. In this sudden anxiety he felt the gun hidden in the folds of the blanket under his hand.

Hisoka broke the eye contact. "Why am I still alive?"

Because you need to be conscious to be able to feel the pain.

Aloud, he said, "I stopped him, remember?"

"Did he do anything to you?" Hisoka had jumped to the next question, seemingly ignoring his answer.

Tsuzuki wondered why he had to comply with a brat's curiosity. Ah, but this would build up the surprise. Few things were more delightful than the shocked expression on a prey's face.

Back to the question, Tsuzuki reminded himself. Muraki's face in pain was the first thing he recalled. Then, their kiss.

"Nothing much," he settled with, at length.

He noticed Hisoka's shoulders jolt ever so slightly, but the youth's face remained impassive. Too calm.

You have to show me the pain.

The boy breathed in deeply. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I said I'd kill him for you, but I couldn't."

"Kill him for me," Tsuzuki repeated thoughtfully. "If I wanted him dead I'd have killed him myself."

"But you shouldn't," Hisoka said, and in a smaller voice, "One kill, and you'll be lost forever."

"You can't really say that when you yourself have tried to kill, can you?"

Hisoka didn't answer.

Shall I use the gun? No… there isn't any fun in that.

"Tsuzuki?"

"What?" Tsuzuki drew closer. I should have asked for the knife.

"Can you get me the book I was reading?"

"Where?"

"… Never mind."

"I'm asking you where it is," Tsuzuki said, rather annoyed.

"You don't remember. It's okay."

Tsuzuki huffed impatiently. "Okay then." What is he trying to pull?

The conversation was making him restless. It was getting difficult to play along when he couldn't remember his previous encounters with this boy. His memory kept flickering in and out of his mind like dying fireflies.

I'll end it here, then.

"I don't like that gun either," Hisoka said, "so you can put it away now."

It took Tsuzuki a second to understand what he meant.

Then he smirked, pulled the gun out, and threw it on the floor. "You ruined my surprise."

"You don't need that weapon anyway."

"You want a slower death, then?"

"I want my chance to fight. At least I can die without regret that way."

"Underestimated you," Tsuzuki grinned. "You're quite interesting."

"Still, not enough for you to let me escape."

Tsuzuki shrugged. "It was a better deal I made with him."

Hisoka started to untangle his legs from the sheets. Tsuzuki caught his shoulders fast, pushing him against the headboard. "You're not going anywhere."

"I wasn't planning to," Hisoka said, a hint of sadness in his gaze. He pushed himself up against Tsuzuki's hold, and kissed him.

It was the last thing Tsuzuki expected.

The kiss was soft, but engaging, and he found himself responding readily. There was a feeling of great relief, somewhere deep, deep down…

"Isn't this what you want? Not some bothersome emotions that achieve nothing."

His feelings were returned at last.

Tsuzuki jolted at that thought. What? I definitely do not love him! I was going to kill him!

He pulled back with difficulty. "What are you tr—"

"Mmh," Hisoka closed the gap once again.

And yet this felt so good.

Muraki. It felt almost like him. Firm, brave, not hesitant like what he thought the boy would be.

Ah, he'd forgotten they used to be together.

Tsuzuki found himself weighing between the two of them. One was his equal, who knew just how to satisfy his needs. Another was… a lovely slave.

A sly part of him wanted them both.

— But you know how dangerous the doctor is. —

Huh?

Tsuzuki shook his head. Was it his own mind talking to him again? There were so many thoughts that didn't feel like they belong to him.

— Why don't you kill him instead? —

There it went again. A familiar mind-voice, but he couldn't place it.

And Hisoka's skillful massage on his neck wasn't helping matters.

— Kill him while you can. He will kill you someday. —

But the doctor could give him what he wanted, the pleasure he craved. Surely he could handle playing with a little fire…

— Haven't you got what you want now? —

Tsuzuki paused.

…Sure, this is what I want… right?

There was that annoying tug at the back of his mind, though. Conscience? What did he care about conscience? He'd be foolish not to take up this offer. Totally laid out before him, those tender lips, those green crystals…

Hisoka was clutching the chest of his shirt with one hand, brushing his thigh with another.

Oh, the doctor can go to hell.

He grabbed Hisoka's waist, pulling the young boy fully into his embrace. His hands roamed at the edges of Hisoka's clothes, seeking the boy's skin.

Haze and lust took over.

— Burn. —

Fire. Fire in his memory, the smell of flesh burning.

— Burn it all down. —

The heat building inside his body, the rush of adrenaline.

Out of nowhere, a flame materialized on the door handle. Tsuzuki barely noticed it as he continued pressing down on Hisoka, crushing that small body under his own.

"Scream now," he breathed into Hisoka's ear as he squeezed his gaunt hip mercilessly.

Hisoka let out a choked cry.

Not good enough.

Smoke invaded his nostrils, and he turned to see what remained of the door collapse to the floor, enveloped in flames.

The beautiful sight of fireflies.

Hisoka pulled him down again.

— More. Again like that time, burn more… —

The room was getting unbearably hot, almost too difficult to breathe in. He could hear Hisoka's broken gasps, but then again, it might be because Tsuzuki was biting down at his neck.

The boy was way too tolerant of pain, in Tsuzuki's opinion. He could never get enough agony in those lifeless jades.

"Aren't you worried about the fire?" he asked, tangling his fingers in Hisoka' hair and jerking it playfully.

"You won't die from it," Hisoka answered in-between his heavy breathing. "That's the important thing."

"I want you to live."

Tsuzuki froze. That voice rang like thunder inside his head, yet no one had said it.

"Tsuzuki?"

The fire traveled on, onto the walls and floor, out of the room.

"What…" he winced at the headache, "…what do you mean?"

Hisoka reached up to touch his cheek. "Nothing. Forget it."

— Don't care. Just keep it burning. —

But the ringing voice didn't go away. Tsuzuki grasped the sheets and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to contain the sudden dizziness.

As he opened his eyes again, he caught Hisoka's worried look.

Another flicker of memory.

It feels like I'm reading my own emotions in those eyes…

In a flash, he remembered. This boy was empathic. And telepathic.

Hisoka touched his arm hesitantly. "…Are you all right?"

"No!" Tsuzuki snapped, his voice strained. "You… you were sending all those thoughts to my mind!"

Hisoka stared, then pulled away.

"You found me out," he replied flatly, his face betraying no emotion.

"What the hell are you trying to do to me?!"

"I want you to kill him," Hisoka said, watching the flames absently. "I wanted to do it myself, but I couldn't."

"You sure have some guts to use me for your revenge." Tsuzuki glared. "And after all that talk that I shouldn't kill."

"Tsuzuki…" the small voice sounded so sad, "… if this were really you I wouldn't have let you kill."

That sharp pang again. Tsuzuki cursed, trying his best to bear the pain.

— No, do not return yet, Tsuzuki… —

Who…

— You must not remember. —

Inside my mind… who…

— Please… not now… —

"Tsuzuki-san!"

The call pulled him out of the chaos in his mind. He turned to the doorless entrance. Of course, there Muraki was. He was busy spraying the fire-extinguisher around him. His expression was a mixture of shock and displeasure.

— Kill him, now. —

Tsuzuki flinched at the telepathic intrusion.

"If this is your idea of killing, Tsuzuki-san…" The mild reproach was obvious in Muraki's tone.

"You have a problem with that?" Tsuzuki retorted, hiding the feeling of disorientation.

Too much smoke.

"We had a deal, remember?"

"And it's up to me how I accomplish that."

"I'm just worried that you might… enjoy yourself too much and forget about it," Muraki eyed Hisoka's disheveled clothes.

Hisoka merely turned away impassively. Tsuzuki had half expected the youth to blush in embarrassment.

"Or are you still afraid to actually do it?" Muraki taunted.

"I don't—"

And suddenly all his memory rushed back to the surface, causing him to freeze in place.

The blinding light. The screeching explosion. The flames that engulfed the whole field together with all who were standing there, the burnt smell…

His first kill, and his last.

"Monster…!"

Recognition dawned on his face.

"No," Hisoka whispered, horrified.

Tsuzuki looked at him. Hisoka.

The youth's eyes were liquid. Guilt, regret, apology…

"Why do you return now?" he whispered. "Tsuzuki."

Tsuzuki didn't know how to answer that. He didn't even know how he had left his own body, on the first place.

"He was right," Muraki's voice startled him. With a swift move the doctor had placed a blade on his cheek.

"!"

"You should have stayed the way you were… the way you really are." Muraki sliced the flesh, making both Tsuzuki and Hisoka gasp. "Well, let's see if this—" he smeared the blood on Tsuzuki's lips— "can bring you back."

Tsuzuki's eyes glinted, and fire re-ignited from the ashes near Muraki's feet in an instant.

The next second it flew back towards Tsuzuki.

Tsuzuki cried out in surprise as the heat seared his skin. What the—

Muraki smiled broadly. "Ah, so it works. That was close." He reached into his pocket with his free hand, and took out a piece of white paper with black symbols written on it.

"Surely you don't think I'll leave such an invincible power as yours out of my investigation?" he said. "Spiritual forces are not beyond science. You caught me with surprise the first time… and since then, I've promised myself it won't happen again."

Tsuzuki stared.

"I've just found this spell, that can repel your psychic powers. Comes in handy at a time like this." Muraki cut a fresh wound on top of the first one, which had started to heal. "So, is our deal still on? I would hate having to… eliminate both of you."

"You can't kill me," Tsuzuki stated coldly.

"Ah, your exceptional body cells." Muraki smiled. "But I've told you there are limits to everything in this universe, Tsuzuki-san. I know the cells' recovery rate. I need only to beat that."

Tsuzuki's eyes narrowed. Was it just a bluff? "You said it was not achievable by normal means."

"Paranormal phenomena call for paranormal treatment. I'm not a scientist for nothing."

After seeing how his fire was repelled, Tsuzuki was ready to believe that.

— Don't. —

His gaze darted to the side to find Hisoka. He'd almost forgotten the boy's presence.

Hisoka's eyes were directed straight at Muraki, and they were gleaming unnaturally. Tsuzuki's eyes widened.

With a clang, the knife on Tsuzuki's cheek fell to the floor.

Telepathy?

Muraki grunted as he bent over, clutching his temples.

A telepathic assault.

Tsuzuki knew from his own experience how bad that could be. Hisoka had definitely controlled that power every time he talked in Tsuzuki's mind. The only time it was unshielded was when he projected his nightmare in his feverish sleep. It almost drove them insane that time, and that was while the boy was unconscious. This time it was done deliberately, with all his strength focused on it—

Speaking of which, he didn't have much of that left.

Hisoka was beyond pale now. On that white skin, the shimmering large green eyes were a scary sight. The look intent on killing.

Fascinating.

As if in a trance, Tsuzuki turned to watch Muraki thrashing about in his terrible headache, finding no relief from any physical pain he inflicted on himself.

He knew what that felt like. The persistent buzz inside the head, knocking at the skull, threatening to shatter the brain. Like what he'd felt earlier.

Like what he felt now.

A voice inside whispered: Just a little bit more.

Hisoka's head thudded on the headboard, having exhausted all his strength.

Too bad…

Muraki fell sitting on the floor, leaning on the leg of the table. He was sweating all over, and his face was still contorted in pain.

Tsuzuki's gaze fell on a piece of paper on the floor. The protection spell.

Within seconds, it turned to ashes. Without the energy support from its caster, it was easy to destroy.

Muraki didn't seem to notice. He was too busy trying to breathe.

Tsuzuki smiled.

He caught Muraki's last horrified look before the chemical caught on fire, before the table combusted, before the flames consumed even the metal the table was made of. After that he could only see a figure wrapped in the flame, thrashing wildly in overwhelming heat.

For the briefest moment Tsuzuki had a terrible déjà vu: blazes the color of the sun, as far as eyes could see; the crisp sound of jumping flames, the smell of flesh burning… But this time there were no screams, no haunting faces, no tears from his own eyes.

He kept his gaze on that brightly shining form as its movement slowly subsided, wobbling for a long torturous period, before it finally fell to the ground.

The room collapsed. From the corner of his eyes he registered Hisoka's form cuddling beneath the layers of sheets and blankets. He dragged himself to an open space, avoiding the falling pieces of the ceiling.

The fire kept burning.

Brilliant at the moment of departure…

He didn't scream at all.

A weak conscience at the back of Tsuzuki's mind jolted in shock at the morbid thoughts. But he couldn't help them. Nor could he tear his eyes from the scene before him.

It had danced in flame, entranced in pain.

Fluttering like a dying butterfly on the window…

Then it fell.

It fell down…

.

..