7: A Nightmare Brought to Life
A low thunder whispers over the horizon, echoing as if to toss back and forth some impossible conversation, where it finally catches it, crushing it amidst a stroke of lightening. Within an ancient castle far from the familiar shores of Japan, the small storm lingers, but somehow avoids the large stones that form upon such a desolate hill. It seems the storm revolves around a darkness it can never quite grasp.
"Welcome to my home." invites a low, charming voice, despite the strain behind it. "Enter freely and go safely, leaving something of the happiness you bring."
This is recorded memory, remember, not the here and now, but as if the very man stood upon those very castle steps, Kurosaki Hisoka appears through the doorway, slipping inside just barely enough to escape the falling drops of rain. "Muraki-sama?"
"Hai, I am Muraki Kazutaka." the figure who bid Hisoka enter replies.
He is a frail man. Tall and well-built, at least in a way that suggests he was once quite powerful, though he appears weakened now, as if by some unknown, unnatural force. Silver hair falls wildly past his shoulders, while a single, silver eye peers out at the world with a dull sheen of faded life. The other remains hidden completely, veiled by strands of spun silk. He would be handsome had he some vitality left. He is handsome. He would be beautiful. Breathtaking.
"Come in, Boya. The night air is so cold. I'm sure you are in need of food and rest. Please..." Muraki gestures onward into the castle, before beginning to head that direction himself.
Complying, Hisoka picks up his bags and enters fully, studying the castle's interior as he walks. Just as he is about to put his bags down again in order to turn back and shut the large, metal door behind him, it suddenly slams shut, causing him to jump nearly three feet forward. Turning back, there are no signs of anyone else there; the wind must have forced it closed.
The wind forced a metal door closed? Well, whatever helps you keep your delusions, I suppose.
Following Muraki up a winding staircase, deeper into the haunting depths of the castle, Hisoka eyes his surrounding with persistent hesitance. Silently, he scolds himself for being so childish. After all, how rude would it be for him to show fear and unease in front of his client?
"I have brought the information you requested regarding the properties in Tokyo." Hisoka begins, laying out his briefcase on a table in the large dining hall he has been led to. "Also, my superiors were wondering - "
A firm hand is politely laid to rest on Hisoka's shoulder. "Kurosaki-kun?"
"Ha...hai?"
"You have traveled far. Let your host see to your pleasure before you see to his business." Muraki grins, guiding Hisoka away from the briefcase and towards the elaborately decorated dining table.
Dinner has been set up, enough for one, and a single candle illuminates the table at one end, seeing as how most of their surroundings are lit by meager lamps on the stone walls.
"I do hope you're hungry." the beguiling man states with a sly smile, much like that of a cat slinking over rooftops at night.
"I am, actually." Hisoka admits, allowing himself to be seated at the table, and staring down hungrily at the dishes in front of him. The spread is a lavish assortment of traditional Japanese cuisine.
Muraki circles Hisoka, coming up next to him on his other side, and gestures at the prepared meal. "Please, dine as you wish. And...forgive me for not joining you, but...I have dined already."
Smiling up in gratitude, Hisoka begins to eat, pouring out instant complements at the meal's authenticity and taste. As he eats, Muraki eventually joins him at the table, sitting on his left, and though Hisoka knows it is impolite to stare, he finds his eyes constantly drifting towards his companion.
Though they are far from Japan - lost in the mysterious lands of Transylvania - Muraki is dressed in old-fashioned robes, reminiscent of ancient Japanese emperors. Hisoka would have found this rather peculiar had he not been informed that Muraki's ancestors aren't originally from the Transylvania region, but that they had come from the distant island he, too, calls home.
"I must say, it is a comfort that you take your ancestral roots so seriously." Hisoka comments, pausing in his meal to drink from a glass of wine next to his plate. "The food, your dress, designs in this palace, and especially your recent decision to move to Tokyo. It is a fine city."
Muraki releases a quiet laugh. "Fine indeed. But more importantly, it is a crowded city. I lose myself sometimes in imagining the bustling streets, peopled with the mad whirl and rush of humanity. How marvelous it must be to live amidst that banquet of life."
Suddenly, in the distance, a cock crows mournfully, signaling the beginning ascent of the morning sun. Muraki starts slightly, a reaction unperceived by Hisoka as he finishes his meal.
"I have lingered too long, I'm afraid." Muraki explains, rising slowly from his seat at the table. "Such endless nights call for early morning rest, and I must retire. I leave you to rest as well. You will find your room just down the hall, and are free to continue dining until you are satisfied." Then, before going off to his own bedroom, Muraki slips up closely behind Hisoka's chair, and whispers into his ear. "One thing, Boya: you may go anywhere you like in the castle, except where the doors are locked, which of course is somewhere you would not wish to go. My ways are not necessarily your ways, and you may discover many strange things. Had you my eyes and my knowledge, you would better understand, but you are young and inexperienced. Please, trust me when I warn you to be cautious."
Hisoka represses a deep shiver, unsure what to make of his client's lingering presence, so close to him from behind. Before he can spend much time dwelling on it, however, the cock crows once again, and Muraki recoils, backing towards the hallway leading to his room.
"Oyasuminasai, Kurosaki-kun. And...Ohaiyo." he winks, and with a flourish of his many robes, he is gone.
-----
Pages turn, again and again, expressing now a different night in Kurosaki Hisoka's experiences with the intriguing Muraki Kazutaka.
Hisoka is sitting on his bed in the guest room Muraki has provided him with, diligently attempting to replace a button that has fallen off his jacket. Skilled in many domestic tasks, he is an accomplished sewer when situation calls for it, and he works swiftly, the small needle and thread slipping in and out of the fabric like the flitting of a fish darting in a stream.
From outside his window, a wolf howls hauntingly in the distance, forcing a shiver of foolish fear to ripple down his small spine. Though he is facing away from the door and cannot see the figure steadily approaching him from behind, Hisoka senses the expansive presence of someone watching him, and stiffens.
Muraki walks silently, his steps undetectable, and even the door refrains from making a sound as he enters Hisoka's room. Hisoka is vaguely aware of him, however, and looks closely at the mirror he has placed on his nightstand, giving him a rather broad view of the areas of the room behind him. He can see the slightly open door, the far wall, and his dresser, but he cannot - of course - see Muraki.
The wolf howls once again, startling Hisoka sharply, which causes him to jump and pierce his finger with the needle he had still been holding. He sucks in a sharp breath of air through tightly clenched teeth at the sting of pain, and when he holds his bleeding finger up to the light, an oddly delicious sigh escapes from the unseen spectator behind him.
"Who's there...?" Hisoka whispers, no longer believing that deceptive reflection. Rightly prompted, he begins to turn.
"You needn't face me." Muraki calls softly, halting Hisoka's movements. "I don't mean to disturb you. Only...to study you. To learn the curve of your neck..."
Deeply unnerved, Hisoka shudders, and sets his sewing aside. "I will be leaving in the morning. I never intended to stay a full week, and since our business is nearly finished - "
"Kurosaki-kun?"
"...hai?"
"You've cut yourself."
Hisoka looks down at his injured finger, noticing that a few drops of blood have fallen from the wound and are now staining his bedspread. "So I have..." He begins to lift his finger to his mouth, but his hand is suddenly snatched up as Muraki appears beside him and pulls it towards his lips instead.
"Allow me..."
Unlike the heat he would have expected from his own mouth, Hisoka finds Muraki's to be oddly chill, and the feeling of the older man's tongue darting about his finger is a far cry from any comfort level he would hope to maintain with a client.
At first entranced, Hisoka now finds this act revolting, and tugs his hand away, guarding it protectively as he leans back, away from Muraki's hovering form.
"Where are my things?" he asks bluntly, unable to look anywhere but at Muraki's silver eye boring hungrily back at him.
Muraki merely stares, licking his moistened lips.
"Answer me! All my papers are gone. Everything. My notes, letters, even the deed to the property - still unsigned."
A wicked smile. "Forget the inconvenience of such small disappearances." Muraki dismisses. "Now, tell me of my new home."
"I've told you already! Again and again for a whole week." Hisoka laments, scrambling off the bed and backing fearfully away. "It's an older building, shrouded in darkness."
"I commend you, Boya. How I love the shade and shadow, the solitude and potent quiet of the night."
"There is no quiet here." Hisoka shoots back, pressed against the wall next to his bed, unjustly terrified of Muraki's advancing figure. "Day and night I am surrounded by the sounds of digging. And the boxes - a dozen, at least. What of those?"
"Pay no mind to that." Muraki smirks, and with a nearly unseen gesture into his robes, he suddenly produces the lost deed. "Please, Kurosaki-kun, finish what you started and sign the deed to my new home. It lacks only your signature."
Swiftly, Muraki moves to the end table and sets the deed down, producing a pen as well, and gesturing Hisoka over to make the contract legal. Hisoka hesitates, questioning Muraki's acquisition of the deed when it had been with his other now lost possessions. Nonetheless, all he longs for is to escape the unsettling world he has found himself in, and so he moves forward, keeping a watchful eye on his companion as he takes the pen and signs the deed as he has been instructed.
"You shall be greatly rewarded for your services, Boya. Trust me on that."
"I want to leave."
No reply.
"I want to leave now."
Muraki bows his head in a wicked smile, the deed once again hidden amongst his robes. "I'm afraid that is impossible."
"Why?"
"Because…I have no intention of letting you go."
Hisoka's large, green eyes widen, not merely at the words Muraki has chosen, but at the hidden meaning in his tone, in his eyes, in his overpowering presence. Suddenly, Hisoka realizes he is indeed a prisoner, and there is no escaping this prison if he does not act now. In a desperate rush for the door, he leaps past Muraki, but just as he reaches it, it heavily slams shut.
"I am afraid I have all I need of you, Kurosaki-kun. Your work is at an end."
"No…" Hisoka breathes, clutching at the immovable door. "Let me go. You have no reason to keep me here, whatever you are. Please…"
"Kurosaki Hisoka!" Muraki's deep, increasingly powerful voice erupts, spinning Hisoka to face him with the sheer force of its resonance. He raises a ghostly white hand, transfixing Hisoka as if putting him under a spell. "You belong to me now, and I am afraid I cannot allow you to leave."
Slowly, against his will, Hisoka begins to move back towards the bed, grasping his head in pain. "No…I must tell them…tell them of the digging…of the boxes of earth…"
"Do not worry, Boya, I shall carry your memory with me, and eagerly take your place by your partner's side."
"Tsuzuki…" Hisoka whimpers, fighting with all he has left to keep himself from lying down on the bed, though Muraki's control over him is forcing him to do just that, and soon, too soon, he is lying flat on his back. "Be safe, Tsuzuki. Dear, God, do not fall to this creature as I have…"
"Oh, believe me, Boya, he will do much more than fall..."
A snap of Muraki's long, white fingers silences every mere hint of noise echoing throughout the room, and while he stands at the foot of the bed, two new figures appear at either side, seemingly out of the air to obey their master's command.
They slither up from the ground, hovering close to where Hisoka's head lays on the pillow, appearing like fierce though beautiful apparitions. They look almost like sisters, with similar features, though one has hair cropped at her shoulders and the other's hangs down her back in two, thick braids. One's eyes glow an eerie yellow while the other's glow red, and when they smile down at him, both have canines to rival any beast his nightmares have ever imagined.
Flowing cloth of white drapes their deceptively fragile bodies. They are brides--beautiful brides of Death itself.
"What are you...?" Hisoka gasps, his limbs still unwilling to obey him in his hopes to escape.
The vixens loom over him, leaning in close so that he can feel their lack of breath dancing across his skin.
"No! Stay away from me!"
Muraki's encompassing laughter fills the space of the room like fog enveloping the night. Hisoka can see him at the foot of the bed, looking somehow taller and more imposing than before. His eyes gleam, his hair seems to shimmer, and his beauty is all the more enhanced with the strengthening of his once weakened constitution.
The vicious pair on either side of him begin to kiss and lick at his face and neck, their small hands caressing down his chest and undoing the buttons of his shirt. Those hands are as ravenous as their mouths, and they tease mercilessly at his flesh when his shirt falls open, not letting up despite all his cries of protest.
"He's so pretty, Master." the one with longer hair coos, running her tongue along his collar bone. "Oh, please, can we taste him?"
"Yes, oh please." the other agrees, lightly nipping down his torso.
Muraki's voice becomes stern, though at its edges it is filled with something Hisoka longs to overlook, though he knows he cannot. "Soon, my treasures, but not yet. When I have gone, then you may do with him as you please. But for now...he belongs to me, and I shall be the first to taste him."
Hisoka is shaking--every inch of him--and the expression on his young face is one of pure horror as Muraki approaches. The vixens do not back away, but merely move lower, keeping their attention on his chest and thin torso as Muraki comes up beside Hisoka's left, and grins.
Fangs. Glinting menacingly in the faint moonlight from outside--which has become the shade of frozen blood--they carry with them a strange sense of sensuality along with fear. Hisoka is instantly ashamed for thinking such a thing, but he cannot deny the strange warmth beginning to swarm in his stomach, as if Muraki is commanding his body to react.
"It only hurts a moment, like the prick of a pin..." the count whispers, his words flown by feathers to Hisoka's ears. He is leaning far over the younger man now, his too beautiful face only inches from Hisoka's. "Then...it becomes something so...pleasurable...you will be begging for me to take you..."
"Don't...please..." Hisoka pleads.
But, after all, the Devil is only interested in mercy if he can benefit more from the sacrifice than from taking what he wants. This time...he would much rather be taking.
Muraki's lips curls back into a haunting smile, showing off those sharp fangs all the more, and soon his face disappears from Hisoka's view as he leans in towards the blonde's gently curving throat.
A pin prick--Muraki had not lied--and in the moments that follow, Hisoka becomes devastatingly aware of how true Muraki's other words had been.
Every nerve in Hisoka's body springs to life, kindled anew, and he gasps aloud--a pitiful cry--his limbs no longer frozen by Muraki's spell but by the thrilling rush of sensation running through his body. To say it is pleasurable does not do it justice. His body is reacting on every level, and he can faintly hear the vixens hissing and giggling at the tension it his wrought upon his extremities.
On one hand, he can feel a part of his life slipping away between Muraki's lips. But on the other, he is filled, enraptured by sensuality like nothing humanity could ever know.
Muraki begins to pull away, but Hisoka's hands spring up, gripping the man's shoulders to hold him in place.
"...ah...don't...uhh...please...don't stop..."
Light dances across Muraki's exposed and bloody fangs. "It is your partner I want most, dear boy. But...if you insist on asking for destruction, I will grant it to you, as payment for what you have done for me." Muraki shifts, eyes suddenly blazing as he strokes Hisoka's cheek too tenderly. "Now...my dear, little doll...I want to hear you scream..."
A part of Hisoka's mind jolts back to reality, and he realizes what he is about to be subjected to. The thing is, he has asked for it, and there is nothing he can do to escape from the fate he has chosen.
He hates himself. He hates the world and all its conventions.
Soon, he begins to feel his clothes stripped away by the vixens' attentive hands, while Muraki's tongue leisurely laps at the wound on his neck. The combination of sensations, as well as visions of what is to come, carry his mind to thoughts of his partner--a man he has now inadvertently condemned.
"Tsuzuki...forgive me..."
Muraki laughs again, his voice vibrating against Hisoka's neck, and he pulls back just enough, before plummeting down, sinking his teeth viciously into that same flesh once more.
"AHHHH!"
-----
"No!! Hisoka!" Tsuzuki cries, slamming the journal shut and tossing it across the room in horror. "No....how...how could this have happened...?"
"Calm down, Tsuzuki-san." Tatsumi soothes, attempting to place his arm around Tsuzuki's shoulders in consolation.
Tsuzuki brushes him away and jumps to his feet, his violet eyes lit up like fireflies, dancing within the growing darkness of the room. "The things he went through! The things he had to face all on his own! I should have been there to protect him!"
Tatsumi gets to his feet as well, adamant in calming Tsuzuki down, and places a very firm hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder--one that will not be so easily dismissed. "Then you can protect him now. If these events happened as the journal says, then we must be cautious. We must be alert. This Muraki could very well be in Tokyo as we speak."
"Oh God!"
"But panicking will help no one. You must keep your head if you hope to fend off this threat. Do you understand me?"
Caught by Tatsumi's fierce, blue eyes--eyes that demand full, unwavering attention--Tsuzuki feels his shivers lessen and his rapid pulse return to normal before he has even begun to consciously make the decision to calm down on his own. Something behind those eyes speaks volumes, displaying power and experience Tsuzuki finds greatly humbling.
"Go to your friend, Tsuzuki-san, and be a comfort to him in these harsh times." Tatsumi instructs, his grip on Tsuzuki's shoulder loosening with a sense of ease and strong support. "The horrors ahead we shall all face together."
Suddenly, Tsuzuki is nodding, and with surprisingly little apprehension, he finds himself heading out of the room to do as the good doctor has told him. He pauses a moment at the door to smile in gratitude, but still, at his core he knows to be fearful of what lies ahead of them.
Walking to the far side of the room where Tsuzuki had thrown the journal, Tatsumi plucks it gently from the floor, holding it in his hands as if it contains more than just a tale of evil, but evil itself.
"You shall not escape me this time...Muraki."
A/N
How can any of you possibly forgive me for abandoning this fic for so many months? By yelling at me through reviews. :-P Actually, I am so ashamed, I will understand if you have completely forgotten this fic even existed, but if you remember, and if you have been kind enough to read this new installment, I hope you will have faith in my ability to finish this fic. It really does mean alot to me and I want to see it done.
Crim