Disclaimer:
I forgot to put this disclaimer the last time... might as well, ne?

Yami no Matsuei belongs to and was created by the brilliant Matsushita Yoko, all rights reserved. Ü I only borrow the characters for my humble creations.

This is my first Yami fic, created in the middle of the night. Shonen-ai (boy x boy) and mild sexual content [lime] so pls. do not read if that makes you uncomfortable. All the rest of you, enjoy! Constructive criticism is very welcome. ü

Kurosaki Hisoka

#1 visit me in dreams

Somewhere in the night, he was lying in bed. Not asleep, but almost. The Tokyo apartment Konoe had assigned to him wasn't big and in general quite ordinary, but he preferred it that way. Aside from the cardboard boxes filled with his possessions, the blinds he'd put on each window [he'd meticulously taken off the musty white curtains] and the futon in his tiny bedroom, the flat was bare and dull. All the walls were clean and spotless but absolutely white. Blank.

Hisoka buried his head underneath the pillow. He felt drained, but his mind was alive and buzzing. His thoughts moved like speeding cars in the highways of his brain, electric and zipping at top speed. But there was only one thought: Tsuzuki's face buried in a piece of cake, smiling wide and disarmingly, his clothes pulled loosely on him. Hisoka sighed and turned over.

What was wrong with him? It was certain that there was something between them; that spark that was a little more than just friendship and tenderness that came up when he hugged him, tried to force ice cream down his throat, or carried him home when he passed out… It made him all warm yet at the same time hot and tingly. As if something was crawling underneath his skin, disturbing him, yet…

He got to his knees, made his way to the window and parted the blinds. In the dark misty night, he could see hints of the moon. But there was always that day, wasn't there? Muraki's cold eyes resting on him, his sinister hands moving inside his thighs beneath that moon, that blood red moon. The torture, the rape. The curse carved onto him amidst pleas of terror and pain. Then dying.

Considering the manner of his death and all those years of pain during the 'sickness', death had been wonderful. It had been beautiful. He had closed his eyes, the light seemed so bright and cool it blinded him, and everything seemed to slow down and quiet. An incredible lightness had suffused his entire being, and in the blink of an eye he was gone.

Yet the freedom of it all had not concealed or destroyed the need for knowledge. Of his death, his murderer. He had become a shinigami to find that Pandora's box containing the memories of Muraki's mechanical eye on him, of sakura falling like rain from the sky. And now the twisted doctor violently stripping him of his innocence had made him terrified of being with anyone. Like Tsubaki-hime. Or Tsuzuki.

Even if he wanted it so much.

In between all his musings, he thought randomly of going to the kitchen for a soothing hot chocolate. As he rose, he found himself shoved back to the futon, a strange and sudden weight bearing on him. It pinned him to the ground. He writhed and gasped, struggling to get up and see it – all he saw was dark and he could not move or scream. It was as if a gag of plastic had been jammed into his throat.

"Aah--"

Hisoka.

He bit down on his lips, trying to make even a muffled shout, though the terror in him had seized all control. There was an instant thought of Muraki but judging by his emphatic ability it didn't match. Sensing the doctor was like staring deep into a dark, dizzying void. The presence of this creature on him was powerful and insidious but its emotions were solid and full, basely dark, lustful, evil. It desired something.

Hi. So. Ka…. Hisoka…

There was something so terribly inhuman about the voice. Hisoka had no way of telling whether it was speaking to him in words or through telepathy. It pierced right through him. Its laughter was ominous and resonant: echoing like the distorted cackle of a vulture circling a carcass.

What do you want, Hisoka? Whatever it is, I can give it to you. I have such power. Hisoka…

This is a dream, he thought. He banged upon the door of his consciousness, scared and desperate. He felt so helpless. I have to wake up, I have to wake up. Tsuzuki…Tsuzuki…

Aah…the violet-eyed one. The one who was to succeed Sarganatos. He's who you want…

Terror blinded him. He writhed again underneath the weight of this inhuman beast. Don't you dare touch him! He thought angrily, the thoughts searing through his mind and heart but was unable to bring the words to his lips.

Would you like me to give him to you?

Don't you dare do anything to him!

You would like him wouldn't you? In return, there is much you could give to me…

So much.

The beast laughed again, the horrible sound echoing and reechoing in the small room. Then it leaned forward, slowly, until its great dark face was directly over his. Hisoka's heart was thundering, his entire body shaking. Its scarlet eyes illumined with a flash and with a sinister smile, it pressed its lips upon Hisoka's. He gasped.

His eyes opened. The dream was over. It was 5:41 am.