More of Tatsumi's past plus an angry, frustrated Watari coming your way. Stay tuned.
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Tsuzuki checked in on Watari, finding the young blonde at his computer, alternating between the glowing screen and five or six books littered about the table housing the monitor and keyboard. 003 was fluttering around, staying out of the way, offering little comments every once and again that Watari acknowledged with an inarticulate reply. Tsuzuki shook his head.
"What are you doing?"
Watari spun around in his chair. "Rescuing Tatsumi."
"…And how does this constitute to rescuing him, might I ask?"
Tired and bloodshot amber eyes fixed on him. "Tsuzuki, what is the first thing you would do if Bon got kidnapped right now?"
"Go shake down Oriya Mibu for information."
"And that's your first mistake," Watari replied. "After what happened last time, I doubt Oriya would be so inclined as to helping Muraki out, you see. I'm sure he would much prefer keeping his hands clean of any mess the doctor could potentially make. So there is no reason why I need to reinforce this by going and roughing up the man, who most likely wants to be left the hell alone."
"So what about all of this?" Tsuzuki inquired.
"Research. Ways I can use my limited abilities to my advantage. So far, I haven't come up with much to support my hypothesis, but what I have found might be sufficient enough. I just don't want to chance anything."
Tsuzuki grimaced. "But shouldn't you be out there? Tatsumi could be…"
"I know!" Watari shouted, effectively cutting him off, slamming his fist down on the table. "I know everything Muraki could be doing, I know everything he is doing, all of the pain Tatsumi is suffering I can feel it too!"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" Tsuzuki replied quickly, backing off.
Watari's expression softened. "I know, I know, Tsuzuki."
"I don't want him to die," the violet-eyed man choked out.
"I don't either, which is why I'm trying to figure out a way to stop Muraki and bring Tatsumi home safely. He's going to pay for hurting him, mark my words. Kazutaka Muraki will rue the day he ever looked upon my face."
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Time passed for Tatsumi, the seasons changing in his mind, snow and rain and heat alike, and he found himself standing on the porch of his family's home one summer evening. His mother sat on that same porch, barely a foot away, nursing his infant sister, Kana. Presumably, his father was working to eke out a living to support his small family. Little Seiichiro, now about four years old, was jumping around the backyard, his feet bare and dirty. Giggling, the small brunette boy was chasing fireflies, trying to carefully catch one in his outstretched hands.
"Mama!" he shouted triumphantly, running over to the porch with his tiny fingers cupped around something. "Mama, I caught one!"
"Let me see," she requested.
Little Seiichiro uncurled his hands just wide enough to show his mother the glowing firefly inside.
"See, Mama? It's magic!"
The dark-haired woman leaned over, her hands curling around her son's. He looked up at her, grinning widely, his innocent blue eyes full of wonder and youthful amazement. Her face was full of sorrow, masked by her tender affection for her boy.
"Seii, if there was magic in this world, you'd have a better life than what I've given you."
"Mama, are you sad?" Seii asked, trying to devise a way to hug his mother without letting go of his firefly or crushing it to death.
"A little."
"I'm not making you sad, am I, Mama? I don't wanna make you sad, Mama."
She smiled, ruffling his hair. "You're a sweet little boy, my Seii. I hope the girl you marry realizes how lucky she'll be to have you. Now let that poor firefly go home to his family."
"Yes, Mama."
He watched the firefly lazily dance out into the night, blinking with its phosphorescent glow. Tatsumi watched the fireflies skittering about the yard, watched his smaller self still leaping from stone to stone in the small rock garden, leaving little footprints in the carefully raked sand where he'd misstepped. His mother sighed, still fanning her pale face.
"Every day you grow to look more like your father, Seiichiro," she said to herself, "and every day it breaks my heart a little more."
Tatsumi sat down beside his mother and rested his hand on her shoulder. He could not feel it, the soft, fluid feel of silk beneath his fingers or her perfumed flesh. He could not feel anything but the wood beneath his feet, and even that felt cold and unforgiving, like everything else around him.
"Don't be sad, Mama," Seii called out, balanced on a rock. "I'll keep you safe forever. Promise!"
Tatsumi gasped, his chest constricting. His mother turned, staring right at him, her eyes wide and unblinking, her pale face gone gray with the pallor of death. He could smell the horrific stench of blood and decay, a pool of vivid red spreading across the clean silk of her carefully embroidered kimono. It was the same, the same as before, the same nightmare he'd woken from screaming so many nights. Only there was no one here to hold him close, banish the deep dark shadows that he couldn't control. His head buried in his hands, he could do nothing but scream in terror and pain, waiting to wake up.
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Notes: Holy Hakushaku, Batman, that sounds like foreshadowing to me. Will Tatsumi be all right? Will Watari rescue him in time? Is Tsuzuki going to intervene and go after the mad doctor? Who knows?! Well, I do, but…