Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei belongs to Matsushita Youko. I don't own it
and make no claim to.
This story is loosely based on the manga and the anime, taking components from both. Some liberalizations taken by me to suit my plot. Hope I don't offend or confuse.
So on with the show!
Chapter Four - Trimming the Roses
By Lockeheart
********************
Cherry blossoms were ridiculously fragile. Beautiful to behold but short-lived, the pale pink petals were an ironic testament to human existence. Oriya Mibu watched the delicate wisps of colour float to the ground, dancing upon unseen currents of air. It was early morning, the time of rest for KoKatsuRou, but not for Oriya Mibu.
He reached out his hand palm first and gently caught a pale pink petal. It was almost ethereal, there in the palm of his hand, a simple but beautiful thing. He closed his fist around it; crushing it's perfection. People were like the cherry blossoms . . . elegant in their short existence, and even in their death; but oh so frail.
Dawn signified a new day, a new beginning. But for Oriya, head of the Mibu Clan, it did nothing more than herald the next revolution of the wheel of fate. His family held tradition in high regard, the idea almost a cornerstone to the entire Mibu bloodline. Tradition was of great importance, it signified who and what made a person. It reminded people where they came from, and where they were to go. For Oriya, it was nothing more than a slap in the face.
Fate led him upon a path he vowed to never follow. Tradition trapped him in an existence that was little more than a gilded cage. For Oriya, head of his family and owner of the KoKatsuRou, this new day was nothing more than another day of catering to the people in whom the public placed their trust. In another twisted sense of irony, Oriya himself held power over those politicians, his house privy to all their dark secrets. It was power that, while intoxicating, did nothing to quench the thirst of Oriya's soul.
Rising gracefully from the large rock he sat upon, Oriya watched the birth of a new day with little concern. He felt his gaze irrevocably drawn to the descending pale petals that scattered across the well kept garden. Beauty in death . . . the cherry blossoms taught a simple lesson. When he died, would he be as graceful in his last moments? Oriya pondered that thought as he strode across his garden to stand in the middle of its glory.
Breathing in deeply, Oriya noted absentmindedly that the pond would need to be skimmed. The cherry blossoms were beginning to conceal the clear water beneath and the playful koi that lived within it. Oriya let his gaze wander to the rose bushes that were finally beginning to show signs of new growth. Seeing the red buds reminded Oriya bitterly of a certain silver haired man who had left his life.
The flower was another satiric thing within Oriya's existence. The red rose was favoured by Muraki, and the nature of the rose suited the cold but beautiful man. Oriya shook his head slightly, eyeing the flowers with a kind of sadness. To gain sizable blossoms, it was necessary to cut off the infant buds. This accepted slaughter gave way for other greater beauty. In a sense, Muraki did the same, trimming out the weak and unneeded people within humanity, in an attempt to gain human perfection. At least, in Muraki's eyes he saw them as mere stepping stones to a greater ideal, but to Oriya it was nothing short of outright murder.
Oriya snorted softly at that thought. Muraki's official work on genetics was quite clever, and had the research not been destroyed, would have been beneficial to humanity. It was his unofficial work though, that had it been discovered, or let alone used; would have caused a moral dilemma of epic proportions. Along with the approved research, Muraki's darker projects also burned, and for that Oriya was moderately grateful. His devotion to a long time friend discouraged him from saying anything to the authorities, but it did not make him wish for different paths in life. Oriya's path was perhaps not as immoral, but still in darkness.
Muraki's path had strayed a long time ago from the ethical path of a doctor, and had become tainted with selfish desires. Oriya's continued acquaintance of Muraki was more for the man Muraki once was, and whom Oriya believed still existed in the twisted shell Muraki had become. It was ironic in a sense, he who was head of one of the most influential factors on the leaders of Japan, was ensnared by a single man.
Oriya gently reached out and picked one of the roses, raising the beautiful flower to the growing morning light. Yes . . . Muraki was like this flower. As much as he played the role of the gardener, trimming the 'roses' for greater beauty, Muraki was just as vulnerable as the people he experimented with. Entangled in his own web, to Oriya it seemed as if towards the end, it was not Muraki who chose his path, but rather the path refused to let him go.
Oriya unsheathed his katana and raised it to the blossoming daylight. Perhaps, like Oriya, Muraki also felt ensnared by a path he willingly began, but now could do nothing but blindly continue for lack of alternative? The blade glinted lightly in the rising sun, and Oriya just stared at the unsheathed blade, lost in memories.
Oriya shook his head at the foolishness of those thoughts. Everyone could choose their path, nothing truly forced a person to live a certain way. Not that circumstances, or other contributing factors could not and would not strengthen the belief that one did not have a choice. It was the resignation to live with the consequences of those decisions that bound people to paths they would rather leave . . . just like Oriya . . . just like Muraki.
To think of Muraki like a gardener in a field of roses - that metaphor glorified actions that were little more than immoral. Why he still deemed Muraki a friend, even after knowing what he truly did . . . was beyond understanding even for Oriya. It just was. Love, in whatever form it chose, tended to be blind that way.
Even towards the end, Oriya had been unable to sway Muraki from his chosen path. He watched from afar as his friend stepped further and further away from him, bound on a bloody path which only he could see the outcome. Oriya's companionship had not been enough to prevail over Muraki's dark obsessions. It was not enough to bring back that man from the past that Oriya had been drawn to, not enough to bring that good man back from where ever 'he' had fled. When Muraki had come to him that dark night, Oriya had known in his heart that it would be goodbye.
Dampness crept into Oriya's eye and he wiped at it angrily. To remember caused nothing but bitter memories and pain. Best to let the dead lie and continue on with his life. While Muraki may have escaped his path, Oriya still had his to journey upon. Oriya looked about his silent garden in sorrowful silence. It was wishful thinking to envision 'what ifs'. Muraki was dead, burned in the fires that had consumed the research building that held his research, both moral and immoral. Who Muraki once was, buried in the twisted shell he had become; that man would never come back. Perhaps it was righteous justice, that Muraki's lifelong research was destroyed in the fires that also took his life.
Muraki had abused his relationship with Oriya, using the head of the Mibu family to find sympathetic ears in the halls of power, and funding for his morbid projects. People were easily swayed by the engaging man, and Oriya was bound by Muraki's charm as well. As twisted as Muraki had become, there was something that drew Oriya to the man, like a moth to the flame. Oriya looked to the red rose in his other hand, and twirled the delicate stem slowly.
Muraki.
Why even now in his death, did the man still have a hold on him? Oriya tightened his grasp on the delicate rose and winced slightly as a sharp thorn bit cruelly into his flesh. The small drop of blood that welled from the wound was bright upon his skin, and Oriya could not help but think it was bitter irony. Like the flower, Muraki had drawn him in and mesmerized him, only to wound if he tried to get closer.
Had Oriya known what Muraki was intending to do, perhaps he would have acted differently. But deep within Oriya's heart, he knew that even if he would have known that night that Muraki would have died, he still probably wouldn't have been able to sway Muraki from his path. Instead he was left here in the land of the living, mourning the loss of a man who exploited their relationship. Oriya threw the offending rose into the air and grasped his katana firmly. Sometimes, it was better to let things die, than to have them continue on with their false life. He swung unerringly at the falling rose, and cut the flower in half.
Remembering the shinigami that had come to him, those caught up in Muraki's deadly final hand; Oriya recalled the fierce determination of the youngest of them. The sword fight they had engaged in had brought forth the youth's real desires, and for Oriya, it had been enough. Love was a fragile thing, and even though he had lost his claim on Muraki, Oriya was sure that green-eyed shinigami had kept his alive.
The katana glinted in the streaming morning light, and Oriya pressed the flat of the blade against his forehead gently. Born into a family priding tradition, Oriya took up activities that befitted his families status, but also ones that suited himself as an individual. He was a member of a dying race, a family seeped in tradition, and the ways of old.
Breathing deeply, Oriya let go of all his troublesome thoughts, and let his body take over. The endeavour of wielding a sword adeptly was hinged on a person's ability to focus. Desire swayed how accomplished one could become in the art of swordsmanship. Oriya swung his katana into the beginnings of a graceful kata. It was an activity that Muraki had thought little of, save for the usefulness of a sword to end a person's life. To Oriya, the art of swordsmanship taught lessons that modern day living could never provide.
The silence of the garden soothed him, the only disturbance the katana's voice as it sliced through the air, and the silk of Oriya's kimono whispering quietly with his movements. Here, Oriya was at peace, for these precious moments with the rising of the sun, Oriya belonged to no one but himself. The burdens of the KoKatsuRou and the smooth operation of both its guises were almost a different life. The boundaries and limitations of tradition and family did not haunt Oriya here in the complex dance of the sword.
Here in his garden, Oriya could contemplate his cherry blossoms and rose buds, and all the entangled thoughts attached. In the still of the early morning, his burden did not seem so heavy. Here, Oriya was just Oriya.
The wooden gate to the entrance of his garden squeaked softly and Oriya eyed the offending gate silently. His people knew to leave him in peace during this time of the day, so this was unusual. As a figure stepped through the threshold Oriya could do little more than stare in absolute shock. His katana slid out of his nerveless hands to thud softly onto dew covered grass.
The broken rose lay beside the fallen katana, an unlikely pair there in the rising sun.
********************
Oriya accepted the items he had requested from one of his servant ladies, making sure to block her view of the interior of his bedroom. He closed the door, and listened as her footfalls receded from his senses. Sighing softly, Oriya turned around and carried his small burden to the edge of his futon, kneeling to place them on a small stool there.
"Are you afraid for her to see me?"
Oriya turned to look at his unexpected guest and shook his head slightly. "What do you think? Rumours are already going to be flying wildly just from my calling for bandages and such. They know that I have someone here - just not who." Oriya turned his attention to the bundle before him and unrolled the cloth. "It is bad enough that I am entertaining a ghost, best not to let the help think I am mad just yet."
Muraki eyed him with faint amusement, and Oriya could not help but shiver slightly under the man's gaze. "They are much too loyal to you to think you are mad - at least not to your face." Muraki was half clothed, his shirt and jacket carelessly tossed across a chair. Seeing Muraki there, half naked, if injured in his bed made Oriya blush . . . almost. "And to think that I am a ghost . . . you underestimate my abilities Oriya."
"Perhaps I did," Oriya knelt down beside Muraki and picked up one of the bandages. He raised his eyes to Muraki's. "I thought you were dead."
Muraki looked down to the minor wounds on his body and shrugged. "What can I say Oriya? When I am determined, I always get what I want. You know that." He frowned and gingerly touched a gash along his forearm. "Although I will admit, tonight I was careless."
It had to be a dream. Muraki was dead, burned in the fires that had concluded his encounter with the shinigami. The man who lay in his bed, half undressed and wounded . . . couldn't be Muraki . . . could it? Oriya brushed a stray hair away from face and turned his attention to the roll of gauze in his hand. Unless he had gone mad, than there could be no doubt. Muraki was alive.
He lifted the gauze in his hand and began to unfurl it. "Why are you here Muraki?" Oriya raised his amber eyes to meet aloof mismatched ones. "You pulled me into your plans, asking me to delay those who you said were your enemy, exploiting our friendship to further your plans. I honoured your request, even though in my heart I could not understand what had possessed you to dabble in things beyond comprehension." Oriya felt his chest tighten slightly with emotion but he needed to know, to hear Muraki's explanation. "How did you survive that terrible fire?"
Muraki's eyes locked onto Oriya's own, and Oriya couldn't help but feel shivers down his spine. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy[1]." Muraki flexed his arm, wincing slightly as the movement aggravated his wounds. "Let's just say dear Oriya, that I have some very powerful allies now."
Oriya frowned at Muraki's cryptic comment, but said nothing. What could he say? Muraki's business had always been beyond his understanding, and in some respects, it was better he did not know. "Well . . . I suppose that I should just be grateful that you survived," The rolling emotion within Oriya was strong, but he kept it all away from his face. There was no need to let Muraki know just how much his arrival here threw Oriya out of balance. "But it would have been kind Muraki, to give me word that you lived. At least then my troubled soul would have been at ease."
Frowning slightly, Muraki reached out a hand and gently brushed at Oriya's hair, a very intimate gesture, and Oriya fought not to jerk from Muraki's touch. "You really are beautiful when you are angry Oriya." Muraki smiled and let his hand drop from Oriya's hair. "Especially when you are trying not to show it."
Oriya shook his head and focussed his attention on the gauze in his hands. "Do not toy with me Muraki. I am not like your other dolls." He flashed a look of anger up to Muraki. "I am only helping you now because we are friends, but even friendship has its limits."
Raising his hands in mock surrender, Muraki leaned back against the propped up pillows behind him. "I'll remember that."
The tone of Muraki's voice was deadpan, so Oriya was not sure if Muraki meant the phrase as a threat or as an understanding. Brushing his hair out of the way, Oriya picked up a wet cloth and gently dabbed at one of the wounds on Muraki. "Why are you here Muraki?"
"Can't I come to visit an old friend?" Muraki said with an unconcerned tone. Oriya frowned at Muraki but refrained from commenting.
"You never just 'drop by' for a visit. There is always an agenda with you Muraki." Oriya smiled softly up to Muraki. "You told me you would disappear, never to trouble me with your presence anymore." Oriya tightened his grip on the gauze in his hands. "Did it even occur to you that perhaps it would bother me more not to have you here?" Oriya laughed softly at how childish his words were.
He was lamenting something that he could not change, something that was thoroughly Muraki. Throughout their relationship, Muraki always was perplexing, even before he had stained his hands in the blood of innocents. It was just who Muraki was. Oriya sighed and edged closer to the edge of the futon. "So why do you renege on your promise? What do you want now Muraki?"
Muraki's eyes were cold, and Oriya looked away from them and pulled on Muraki's arm to gently begin bandaging the singed flesh. Silence filled the room, and Oriya had almost given up on Muraki even contemplating his questions, when Muraki spoke. "I came . . . because I know you won't betray me." The words were quiet, and Oriya fumbled slightly in his administrations. A cool hand touched upon Oriya's cheek, drawing his face up to look at Muraki's own. "You have always stood by my side, through thick or thin."
Oriya pulled his face away from Muraki's hand and turned his attention back to what he had been doing. "You speak flowery words as usual Muraki. But I wonder if you really believe them." Oriya frowned slightly and brushed back his long hair. "You always speak nice to me when you want something, even now with your amazing ascension from the grave, I am sure you are still wanting the same."
"You wound me." Muraki's voice sounded almost pained, and Oriya wished if only for a moment that he could believe that Muraki cared anything for him beyond their friendship. "You are one of the few people I consider a friend Oriya . . ."
The emotions passing between the two of them, Oriya could not label, only that it hurt and healed at the same time. "You have a funny way of showing your friends you care." He smiled softly and shook his head. "You cannot even begin to understand what I have gone through."
"If you ask, I will leave."
"You know I will hold you to that, you know that Muraki?" Oriya could see Muraki's nod of consensus from the corner of his eye and he let loose another soft sigh. "The authorities said you were dead, the body almost unrecognizable. I went to identify the remains . . . do you know how painful it was to see my friend supposedly dead?" Oriya felt his chest tighten as he spoke the words. He had mourned his friend's death in isolation, and had not spoken about anything that had happened then to anyone.
"I'm sorry Oriya."
Oriya snorted at the words and tied off the bandage around Muraki's arm. "Somehow I am not convinced you really mean that, but I do appreciate your effort at sincerity." He darted his eyes up to Muraki's own. "These wounds are recent, they can't be from the fire in Kyoto . . . What have you gotten yourself into Muraki?" Oriya looked Muraki directly in the eyes, trying to will a decipherable reply to his questions. Muraki's tendency to speak in vague terms frustrated Oriya, was it too hard for Muraki to trust him?
It was almost unnoticeable, but Oriya could have sworn he saw a flicker of anger cross Muraki's elegant face. "I have started up on a new venture Oriya. My partners are disagreeable, but powerful." Muraki touched his newly bandaged arm thoughtfully and Oriya felt Muraki's piercing gaze fall upon him. "We were completing phase one of our endeavour, but it seems we underestimated the reaction of our targets."
It took some restraint in Oriya not to raise his eyebrows in confusion. He calmly grabbed another bandage and began to address another wound on Muraki's shoulder. In times like these, it was better to just listen to Muraki talk than to question - usually things got clearer as the doctor voiced his thoughts. "It was suppose to be simple. Lambs often run the way you want if you stamp out the path you want them to take. Especially with the proper enticement, it is incredible just how easy it is to manipulate them."
Muraki stared off to the far wall of Oriya's bedroom, and Oriya just let Muraki talk. "But sometimes, when an animal is cornered, they rise beyond expected reactions, and a lamb can quickly become a ferocious tiger. We underestimated their strength, and in essence, plans have changed." Muraki turned to look calmly at Oriya. "I'm just confusing you, aren't I Oriya?"
Oriya abstained from commenting, instead focussing on tying off the bandage around Muraki's shoulder. "Why can't you trust me Muraki?" Oriya raised his eyes to look up into Muraki's own. His words were blunt, and a little harsh; but they were honest. "I may not approve of your actions, but we are friends and we were much closer once upon a time." Oriya stilled in his administrations to brush his fingers along the length of Muraki's forearm. "I have done everything you have asked, even when I doubted you. Am I nothing but a servant to you rather than a friend now?"
For a fraction of a second, Oriya could have sworn he saw a flash of sorrow upon Muraki's face, but it quickly vanished, lost in Muraki's usual indifferent expression. "There are just some things Oriya, that I will not reveal to you ever. Unlike me, there is still some decency left in you. I will not be the one to destroy it." Muraki pulled away from Oriya's light touch. "I must succeed in this endeavour, everything depends on it."
Oriya shook his head disapprovingly. "Why is it always all or nothing with you Muraki? Why can't you just walk away from it? Why does it matter so much?" He felt like screaming, Muraki's words frustrated him at the same time warmed him. "Why?"
"Because I've lost almost everything Oriya." Muraki touched his bandaged arm thoughtfully. "If I am to gain even a fraction of what I lost . . . I must succeed here. Nothing will deter me from what I desire, not Tsuzuki or his pathetic sidekick, not my business partners, not you." Muraki glared cooly up to Oriya. "Save your pleas for someone who cares."
Oriya could do little but glare angrily back at Muraki. "You are a bastard . . . you know that?" He finished the last of the dressings for Muraki and stood up. "Is it so wrong for me to care? Hell! I don't even understand why I even bother with you anymore!"
"You bother, because we are friends." Muraki looked up at Oriya with a disarming look and the anger Oriya felt vanished. Muraki reached out and gently grasped Oriya's arm. Oriya felt himself being pulled down to sit upon the edge of the futon. Oriya shivered slightly as Muraki's hand trailed lightly up his arm to cup his cheek. "You really are beautiful."
Oriya tried to pull away from Muraki's deceptively gentle touch, but was deterred by Muraki's other arm snaking it's way behind his head to grasp the nap of his neck softly. "Muraki . . ." His voice was quiet there in the stillness of the room, and Oriya felt as if time had stopped.
"I wish . . ." Muraki's voice echoed the hushed tones of Oriya's, and Oriya's eyes widened as Muraki pressed his forehead against his own. There were only a precious few moments that Oriya had ever seen Muraki this way, his barriers lowered. Muraki caressed the line of Oriya's face. "I wish I didn't have to . . ."
Oriya sat still, willing for Muraki to finish his words, but was disappointed when Muraki drew away from him instead. The warmth of Muraki's touch lay upon his skin, and Oriya felt almost betrayed. For a single moment, the man that he had fallen in love with, the man who Oriya had watch shift into the cruel man Muraki now was, had appeared.
"I won't stay long."
"You never do."
The silence between the two of them was enormous, and Oriya felt that if he didn't leave the room he was going to do something he would regret. He needed room to breathe, time to think. Muraki's arrival had thrown everything within him into chaos. Was his only function in Muraki's life little more than to provide the man companionship? He smoothed out his kimono and flashed a displeased glance to the injured man.
"For friendships sake, I will let you stay for now, even with your cryptic explanations." Oriya stepped across his bedroom to the sliding door that provided an escape. Frustration welled within Oriya, and it was not just because of Muraki's miraculous survival.
"You asked me once long ago . . . that if you died before me, even if it was false, would I cry even one tear for you?" Oriya turned to face Muraki, raising his eyes to meet Muraki's own. "Well I did."
Oriya turned and opened the sliding door, not waiting to hear Muraki's response, or even if the callous man would even respond. It was just something Oriya felt he needed to say. He slid the door closed and stepped across the wooden platform and back down into his sanctuary, leaving behind a man who confused his heart.
********************
The garden soothed Oriya's weary soul, and eased his troubled mind. Oriya spied his dropped katana and mentally berated himself. Ghost or not, Muraki's appearance shouldn't have derailed his sensibility. A swordsman never abandoned his weapon like that, to do so was disrespectful and irresponsible. Oriya picked up the katana gently, and wiped the accumulated dew on the sleeve of his kimono. Unlike Muraki, the sword never hurt him, or abandoned him.
Oriya held his katana upright, the hilt smooth and familiar like an old friend. He needed to find his balance, he needed to just be. Closing his eyes slowly, Oriya breathed in slowly and began the complex motions of one of his katas. He needed to pretend, if only for a moment, that Muraki wasn't here in his house.
The fluidity of motion calmed the turmoil within him, and Oriya let all his troubling thoughts of Muraki slowly fade. The relationship between him and Muraki was bizarre, but oddly right. He opened his eyes and let his gaze travel over the closed door to his bedroom, all the while moving through his sword motions. Sometimes chaos was a welcome thing . . .
When a man in a trench coat 'materialized' in his garden, Oriya hesitated for only a second. There were very few beings that he knew of that had those kinds of abilities. The man stood by the pond, watching Oriya's deadly dance with the katana. If the shinigami was rude enough to enter without permission, Oriya would not give him the courtesy of acknowledging his presence.
Oriya observed the intruder through the corner of his eye, never missing a step of his complex kata. Dressed in black, the man seemed almost the antithesis of Muraki, at least in appearance. The man seemed warm, unlike Muraki's coldness and seemed to have the air of one whose life has been long and tiring, despite how young he looked. As Oriya inspected the trespasser, startling amethyst eyes rose to meet his, and Oriya knew he could no long keep up the pretense of his ignorance.
He stopped and lowered his katana into an unassuming stance. "Do you often spy on people?" He turned his head to acknowledge the violet-eyed man's presence. "Your friends from before at least were polite and turned visible for me."
The startled expression on the other man's face was amusing and Oriya fought the urge to smile slightly. The man was an unwelcome visitor, let him be embarrassed. He brushed a hand through his long dark hair and eyes the man with a cold glare.
"You can see me?"
Oriya snorted slightly at the question and raised his amber eyes to meet confused violet ones. "Obviously. I wouldn't talk to a figment of my imagination now would I?"
"But I'm - "
"Yes I have already gone through this. You are invisible to the normal human eye; a shinigami." Oriya tapped the side of his head by his eye thoughtfully. "Some people are more inclined to seeing . . . spiritual energies than others." Oriya sheathed his katana in one quick motion and stood in the clearing impatiently. "So are you going to continue gawking or am I going to have to throw you off of my property?"
The man in the trench coat fidgeted uncomfortably and suddenly his form 'solidified' for the lack of a better term to Oriya's eyes. "Well that is an improvement at least." Oriya eyed his guest critically. "Who are you?"
"You are Oriya Mibu . . . are you not?"
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes Oriya raised an eyebrow to the shinigami's question. "Yes I am him, what is your business with me shinigami?" Oriya flickered a glance to where he knew Muraki lay. Was it just coincidence that a shinigami had come here at the same time Muraki had miraculously reappeared in Oriya's life? Oriya eyed the man critically, and was surprised when the man did little more than stare back at him.
Oriya sighed quietly and rubbed at his temples. Was it Muraki's talent that constantly brought Oriya trouble? "Are you here to take me?" Despite his previous encounter with the shinigami, Oriya knew that the primary business of the mythical beings was the taking of souls. "Cause if you are, I think I would welcome it. My soul is weary of this existence." Oriya smiled grimly at the shocked man before him.
"I'm not here for that . . ." Oriya watched as the man twitched uncomfortably under his gaze. "I'm actually looking for Muraki Kazutaka. I was told by my associates that he is a friend of yours?" Finally, they were starting to get somewhere.
Oriya crossed the distance between the two of them, stopping at near the edge of the pond. "Pity." This conversation bordered the line of annoyance. "Are you going to tell me who you are? Since you seem to know who I am, it seems terribly unfair don't you think?"
"His name is Tsuzuki Asato."
Oriya didn't need to turn around to know that Muraki stood in the threshold before the garden. The look in Tsuzuki's eyes was one of rage and surprise and Oriya felt that perhaps this shinigami had been one of the 'targets' that Muraki had spoke of.
"Muraki . . ." The menace in Tsuzuki's eyes was unmistakable to Oriya and he discreetly placed his hand upon the hilt of his katana. "I had a feeling you would flee here."
The sound of footsteps informed Oriya of Muraki's approach, not that the tenseness in Tsuzuki's stance wouldn't have provided him the same information. Oriya turned just enough so that he could see both Muraki and Tsuzuki in his field of vision. The tension was undeniable, and Oriya would be damned before he let something happen here in his establishment.
Muraki had redressed himself, the scorch marks on his usually pristine white jacket unmistakable. If Muraki showed any pain from his injuries, Oriya could not discern the man's discomfort. "Flee is such a cowardly term, I prefer strategic retreat." Muraki smiled slightly towards Tsuzuki.
"I think the term monster suits you much better." Tsuzuki clenched his fists in anger and Oriya looked back and forth between the two talking men in slight alarm. "We haven't finished our dance from before!"
Muraki raised his finger to tap his chin thoughtfully. "Oh yes . . . I recall a certain boy messing up the spell I worked so hard to prepare." He flashed a smile to Tsuzuki which served to inflame the shinigami even more. Oriya glared at the two men in rising anger, was he invisible? "Pathetic Hisoka, his concern for you caused him to get himself rather wounded.
Oriya noted that Tsuzuki used great will not to rise to Muraki's bait. Violet eyes glared coldly at Muraki. "Where is the child's soul Muraki? What was the purpose of murdering a child?"
Murder a child? Oriya glanced toward Muraki, confusion pulling at his heart. He had known that Muraki had delved into dark things, but this was the first time he had actually heard of Muraki's exploits. What had Muraki stepped into?
"You should know I would do anything for you dear Tsuzuki." Muraki's smile was cold, and Oriya felt dread spread throughout him. Muraki was killing again? "Besides, it seems as if you have greater concerns than a missing child. Tell me Tsuzuki, is my doll dead [2] yet?"
Even Oriya was unprepared for the immense speed at which Tsuzuki moved, instead finding the angry shinigami grasping the collar of Muraki's jacket. "You bastard!!" Tsuzuki shook Muraki violently and dropped the silver haired man like a sack of potatoes. "I should kill you right now for all you have done."
On the wet grass, Muraki still just calmly smiled up to Tsuzuki, and Oriya shook his head. "My, my . . . so ferocious Tsuzuki. But tell me, what will happen to poor Hikaru's soul if you slay me here?" Muraki gracefully got to his feet and brushed at his pants. "And don't forget Hisoka . . . who knows what will happen to him?"
"Shut the hell up!" Tsuzuki waved his hand in a dismissing motion in front of him. "You are going to tell me what I want to know or so help me . . ."
"We have already discussed this before, dear Tsuzuki. You can't kill me, your code forbids it." Muraki calmly folded his arms across his chest, and Oriya couldn't help but feel anger toward Muraki.
Oriya stepped between the two of them, interrupting the staring match the two men were unconsciously having and glared angrily to both of them in turn. "I don't know what he has done to you Mr. Asato . . ." Oriya turned his head to Muraki. "Nor do I know why you Muraki are so adamant in your desire to cause this man trouble . . . But whatever the case, I want you both to leave." Oriya shook his head angrily, it was too much, too soon. "I will not let you two fight here in the KoKatsuRou."
Oriya turned to eye Tsuzuki warily. "I am not sure just what Muraki has done, and I don't want to know. But it troubles me that you thought to come here to find Muraki. I am not his keeper or his leash. I do not condone or encourage his heinous actions, and it offends me to think that you would believe me to be a part of them." Oriya shook his head and pinned Tsuzuki under his gaze. "I am sorry for whatever has befallen your friend, from what I recall of him, he had a fiery spirit. Whatever has happened to him, I am sure he will survive."
He knew he was treading on thin ice here, but Oriya had just about enough surprises this morning. He looked to Muraki and let eyes convey the anger he felt. "I helped you now because you are a friend Muraki, but I will not let you drag me into one of your schemes." Oriya unsheathed his katana and held it loosely but ready to be used. "You said before if I asked you to leave, you would. So I am asking you, leave me Muraki, and don't come back here unless you have something genuine to say to me."
The tension in the garden was fierce and Oriya was amazed that not one of the men had lashed back out at his tirade. He held his katana defensively, not willing to underestimate either one of his 'visitors'. It was probably that action that saved Oriya's life.
The small pond in the garden erupted in an explosion of water, and Oriya barely had a chance to register that fact when he found himself face to face with a pair of glowing gold eyes. What it was, or why it was there, Oriya did not have time to comprehend.
It was . . . breathtaking. It was a lowly word, but the only one that Oriya could think of to describe the creature that had emerged from the pond. It was a woman, but a pale shadow of one. Clothed in a crimson dress, the pale skinned beauty was a sight to behold. It's hair was long and lustrous, deep ebony against the shadowy bat wings that sprouted from it's back. In her hands she held a coiled whip, it's tip covered with deadly barbs. Yet even with all of that, Oriya felt his gaze affixed to those glowing gold eyes.
Awareness seemed to seep away from Oriya as he beheld those golden eyes, and the 'woman' smiled coldly at him. A set of sharp fangs protruded from her smile, and she lunged forward. When the deadly whip lashed at him, it was his katana that protected him from impalement, even held loosely in his hands. The katana fell to the ground, embraced in the deadly hold of the whip. A set of arms wrapped around Oriya and gently pulled him into an embrace, blocked off his line of sight from the creature. It was only then that Oriya felt his senses come back to life.
He shook his head to clear the mental fog that had enshrouded him and Oriya grasped the arm of the figure that had saved him. He looked up and saw that the one who had grabbed him was none other than Muraki himself. "Muraki . . ." Oriya could do little but stare in shock at the man. Why had Muraki saved him?
"Aww, you're no fun Muraki. I haven't played with a male this pretty in a while." The woman flipped her hair away from her face coyly and batted her eyelashes at Muraki innocently. Her eyes glowed brightly. "It's only one human, let me play with him."
Muraki glared coldly at the creature and Oriya felt Muraki's arms tighten possessively around him. "Back off Kiiyue, your petty tricks won't work on me, so stop it already." Muraki waved his arm dismissively in front of him, the other still wound around Oriya's form. "This one is under my protection." Muraki slowly let go of Oriya and stood up straight. "What are you doing here?"
The woman toyed with a lock of her hair playfully. "Do you think you can really protect him from me Muraki? You are either bold or stupid. I hope for my Lord's sake it is the former." The demon woman flapped her bat wings slightly and raised a single eyebrow. "When Chymos didn't return to the castle to inform us of your progress, my Lord sent me to gather information." She flitted her gaze over to Oriya and smiled coldly. "Never let a human do a demon's job . . . or something like that." Kiiyue flicked her whip casually and Oriya watched his katana fall to the ground with a dull thud.
Oriya quickly retrieved his fallen weapon and backed away from the demon and Muraki slowly. Was this one of the allies that Muraki spoke of? He stole a glance back to Tsuzuki who stood forgotten, the shinigami also seemingly stunned into inaction by the newcomer. What in God's name had Muraki gotten himself involved with?
"That demon, Chymos you said?, he was useless. Instead of sticking to the plan he decided to play." Muraki shook his head angrily and raised his cold eyes to Kiiyue's. "If he is the type of the 'help' your Lord is to send me, than I think I am sorely mistaken in the usefulness of this partnership."
Kiiyue tilted her head slightly and smiled. "It is in a demon's nature to play. Toying with your prey, feeding off their fear and anger; it is intoxicating to us." She tapped the handle of her whip lightly against the side of her head. "You do the same, even now with that shinigami and his partner, you toy with them." She pointed over to Tsuzuki who glared hatefully back at her. "See? Even now when we are suppose to be working, you play Muraki."
"A demon?" Oriya didn't even realize he had spoken the words aloud until he found three sets of eyes staring at him. Oriya ignored all of them save for one. "Haven't you stained your hands enough Muraki? What has possessed you to work with such creatures?"
Muraki tilted his head slightly and Oriya was dismayed by the cold look his friend gave him. "If you value your life Oriya, you will leave here now. I cannot guarantee your safety." Muraki then dismissed Oriya like he was nothing and turned to the demon. "Kiiyue, tell your Lord that I have things under control; despite his assigned 'help'. Chymos is gone, presumably destroyed in the fusing of the two spells. I have traced the spell and will complete phase one of the operation alone."
"Muraki!" Tsuzuki spat the word out contemptibly. Oriya watched as Tsuzuki turned his head to Muraki, the anger in the violet eyes apparent. "What have you started? What have you done to Hisoka? Where is the child's soul?!"
"Awww . . . I think you have made him angry Muraki." Kiiyue smiled and hefted her weapon. "Stupid shinigami, always simpering and grovelling to your 'God'. It makes me sick." Her eyes glowed brightly and Oriya made sure to look away from the glowing orbs. "How does it feel shinigami to be a part of the destruction of Meifu?"
"Shut up Kiiyue." Muraki's voice was chill in the garden, and Oriya could feel spiritual energy building in the area. "We don't have time for this. The spell, while corrupted, is still functioning. We can still salvage the mess Chymos has made." Muraki took a couple of steps towards the garden gates, his form tense. "Go back to your master filthy beast."
A bolt of blue energy crashed into the demon woman, causing her to shriek horribly. Tsuzuki stood defensively, his hands glowing slightly from his departed projectile. "Like hell you two are leaving here. I came for answers and I am not leaving without them." Oriya raised his katana defensively, sensing the beginnings of a battle. "I will not let you harm Hisoka any further Muraki."
Muraki eyed the wounded form of his winged companion calmly. "Poor Tsuzuki . . . so clueless." Oriya watched as a sickly red light enveloped Muraki's form. "I'm surprised Tsuzuki that you haven't rushed your partner back to Meifu, especially considering the condition he is in." Muraki tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder why? Perhaps your Enma has forsaken you?" Muraki nodded his head in mock politeness to both Tsuzuki and to Oriya.
"I'd love to stay and chat, but we really must be going. Wheels are being set in motion, and I don't have time to play at the moment." Muraki nudged the form of Kiiyue slightly with his foot, causing a growl of anger to come from the winged demon. "Really Kiiyue, you are too slow. Get up."
Tsuzuki shook his head angrily and slowly formed another ball of energy in his hands. "I told you before Muraki, there are worse things than death. Take a single step closer to Hisoka and you will wish that you had never met me." Tsuzuki blasted another bolt of energy towards Muraki and Oriya watched in shock as Muraki just stood there.
Scarlet energy crackled to life in front of Muraki forming a shield that dissipated Tsuzuki's projectile. Oriya cringed slightly at the display of power. While he was a master swordsman, he could do little against chi energies. Was Muraki not going to honour his promise to leave?
Muraki smiled calmly as the light from the energies flared down and shook his head in disapproval at Tsuzuki. "Really Tsuzuki. We have done this already. Let me show you something new I have learned, a useful spell really." Oriya watched Muraki's eyes narrow and stood in numb horror. Is this what his friend had become?
"Just kill him Muraki!" Kiiyue had finally stood up, her black wings askew. She barred her fangs at Tsuzuki. "We got the target, he is useless."
Oriya watched as Muraki just shook his head sadly at the raging demon. In the tone of a parent to a child, Muraki spoke back to the demon woman. "Really now Kiiyue, is everything just play and kill to you? I told you, get out of here demon!" Muraki turned his attention back to Tsuzuki. "Now Tsuzuki, I have a really intriguing spell I've been dying to try out. I hope you don't mind being my guinea pig."
Magical energies wove between Muraki's outstretched arms, and to Oriya, it looked like a twisted game of 'cat's cradle'. "I had a bit of time to work this one out, considering you and your partner went and destroyed my life's work." Muraki raised his hands higher and the rising energies increased. "What can you do to stop me from taking away your precious partner if you cannot use your powers?"
Oriya looked back and forth between Tsuzuki and Muraki, anger and apprehension filling his being. What was going on? Had the world gone insane? He had to do something, anything to stop Muraki from shedding more blood. Oriya ran forward towards the two combatants.
"I don't believe you - " Tsuzuki started to reply to Muraki's comment, but a lash from the demon woman's whip cut his words short. Kiiyue smiled coldly at Tsuzuki.
Muraki smiled at Tsuzuki and finished the last words of his spell. "NULLIFY." Oriya fell to his knees as a blinding ball of dazzling colours flew from Muraki's hands to strike Tsuzuki where he stood. Oriya watched as Tsuzuki's blue shield wavered, then collapsed as the swirling magics enveloped the violet-eyed man.
"Get the hell out of here! All of you!" Oriya staggered to his feet, his katana drawn before him. Fury and horror consumed him, and the question running over and over in Oriya's mind was just 'Why?'. He did not want to be a part of Muraki's dark world, to have his life bound to Muraki's own bloody one, even though in his heart Oriya knew he was already bound to Muraki.
The swirling energies dissipated and Oriya looked over to find Tsuzuki kneeling on the ground, his arms pulled over his head protectively. The spell didn't destroy the shinigami . . . Oriya lowered his blade a fraction of an inch and watched as Tsuzuki slowly stood up.
Tsuzuki held his hands in front of him and looked at them in shock. "What have you . . .? Where are my . . .?" Tsuzuki looked towards Muraki in mute horror. "What have you done to my powers?!"
Muraki eyed Tsuzuki critically like he would an experiment and Oriya felt his stomach drop. "Nothing really Tsuzuki. I've just locked them up for a bit. I need you to stop interfering for a moment and let me complete my task." Muraki spoke to Tsuzuki in a quiet but deadly tone. "I unfortunately haven't perfected the spell to be permanent, but it will do the job." Muraki smiled sickly and his crimson energies flowed around him.
Oriya watched as Muraki slowly rose into the air, suspended by the horrible web of energy he had created. He glanced back to Tsuzuki who seemed almost frozen, shocked at what Muraki had been able to accomplish. "Muraki!!" Oriya yelled towards the doctor, anger flowing through him. Was nothing sacred anymore?
"Wretched shinigami! I'll make you pay for damaging my beautiful skin!" Kiiyue screeched horribly and raced towards the immobile Tsuzuki. Oriya turned and watched the demon speed towards Tsuzuki, her deadly whip raised. "DIE!!"
"NO!" Oriya sprinted forward, his katana raised. Shinigami or not, Oriya would be damned if blood spilled in his garden. Demons, magics, it didn't matter; Oriya was still a master swordsman, and that counted for something . . . didn't it?
Oriya stopped in front of Tsuzuki and braced himself, the cruel edge of the whip arcing closer to his tender flesh. The demon woman was no longer beautiful, but rather a frightening distortion of what she had been. The deadly blades flew closer and Oriya stood his ground, his katana raised defensively. Dimly Oriya could hear voices yelling, presumably at him, but in the heat of the moment, nothing mattered save for the opponent in front of him.
Arms grabbed him from behind and a weight pushed Oriya to the ground. Oriya glanced behind him and saw that Tsuzuki was above him, and he had been the one to urge him to the ground. The deadly whip of the demon streaked above the two of them, ripping through the upturned tail of Tsuzuki's trench coat instead of human flesh.
Kiiyue cried out in annoyance at Tsuzuki's and Oriya's actions and Oriya glanced toward the demon in apprehension. Didn't he just say he never wanted to be dragged into Muraki's schemes? Oriya pushed himself up off the ground to defend himself once again. He could see that Tsuzuki had also rose from the ground, his appearance shaken. Oriya was not sure what was meant by powers bound, but to the shinigami it was probably devastating.
The winged woman barred her fangs at the two of them and started to rush forward, only to be paralysed by a web of crimson energy. Oriya looked up and saw that Muraki had thrown the energy net, the look on his face one of great annoyance. "Damn it Kiiyue! Can't you even listen? I told you go back to your master!"
The woman struggled fruitlessly against the bindings of the web. "And I told you doctor, demons play with their prey! He is helpless! Destroy him now!" Kiiyue attempted to spread her wings and somehow they began to slice through the energy web. Oriya watched her actions in morbid fascination, then looked up to Muraki. Kiiyue's eyes flashed in anger and she shook her head in disappointment. "I told you before doctor, you must either be bold or stupid to stop me from doing what I please. Apparently you are stupid!"
Tsuzuki grabbed Oriya and pulled him back, and Oriya let the shinigami do so. Shock was such a pitiful word to describe what he was feeling. Why had Muraki stopped the demon from attacking? Weren't they suppose to be allies?
"And I am telling you one last time Kiiyue, go home." Muraki's voice was calm but deadly and Oriya stared at his friend in dismay. "I won't have any more of your kind messing up things. The target is first and foremost our priority. It would do you well to remember that Kiiyue."
Oriya watched as the demon woman glared scathingly up towards the doctor, and then she turned her gaze to Oriya and Tsuzuki. "Hmph. Fine then. I suppose there are more important things than playing." She eyed Oriya up and down suggestively. "Better watch you back handsome, interfering in a demon's business can be an unpleasant experience." She turned her gaze to Tsuzuki who just stared back at her. "Lucky day for you today shinigami. You get to live - for now."
The demon woman bowed mockingly to the two men on the ground and glared up to Muraki. "Careful doctor. Sometimes even allies have a falling out." With that she jumped backwards into the pond, not even leaving a ripple in the water.
"Muraki!!" Oriya turned to see Tsuzuki yelling up to the floating doctor. "Stay away from Hisoka! I'm warning you!" The wind picked up, flinging Tsuzuki's shredded coat ends into the air.
Smiling coldly, Muraki hovered in the sky, supported by his crimson net. "There is nothing you can do dear Tsuzuki. Your powers are bound for the time being." Muraki tapped the side of his head gently. "Do try to follow the conversation Tsuzuki."
"Muraki?!" Oriya called out his friend's name, confusion evident in his voice. Where was Muraki going? Why was he consorting with Demons? Oriya took a couple of steps towards the doctor. "Stop this!"
Muraki turned his gaze to Oriya, his eyes cold and hard. "I'm sorry Oriya for involving you in this, I will endeavour to maintain my promise this time." Muraki shook his head, and Oriya could do little more than stare in shock at his friend. "Don't shed any more tears for me Oriya, it doesn't suit you." The emotional backlash of Muraki's comments floored Oriya to the ground. "Goodbye Oriya."
Oriya shook his head angrily at Muraki's words, and held his katana defensively in front of him. "You bastard. I knew you were selfish, but not this selfish." Perhaps it was the high emotions in the area, or the tension, but Oriya didn't care. Muraki was walking away from him, on a path bloodstained and shunned by God. If Muraki left now, there would be no chance left to find the man he cared for inside the twisted shell Muraki had become. "Muraki!"
"Find yourself someone else to love Oriya. I cannot return your feelings." Muraki shook his head slightly and returned his gaze to Tsuzuki. "I welcome you to try to stop me Tsuzuki, but I am warning you, it will be a worthless effort." Muraki began to move. "I will take Hisoka, and in turn destroy everything precious to you."
Oriya just stared at Muraki, his heart numb inside. Muraki had known . . . he had known how Oriya had felt, and he still used him. Oriya lowered his katana and watched Muraki fly away, Tsuzuki chasing after him. Idly Oriya wondered just how Tsuzuki was going to stop Muraki from taking Hisoka away from him. Muraki had told Oriya earlier that he always gets what he wants. With his powers bound, Tsuzuki would just like Oriya, he would lose what was precious to him.
Oriya dropped to the ground, his emotions drained. Today had been just one surprise after another. Nothing would be the same . . . and if any of the cryptic comments Muraki had made were true, nothing would be for the rest of the world either. Oriya looked down to his katana, and spied the rose he had cut in half earlier that morning.
He had attributed Muraki to the frailness of a rose, but Oriya had forgotten that he too was just another of those roses. Oriya laid his katana beside the broken flower and rose to his feet. He too was just another rosebud to be trimmed to gain a greater goal. Muraki had not murdered him, but he had killed off something that was as integral to Oriya as his life itself. Oriya walked back into his house, leaving his katana in the garden.
The broken rose lay beside the fallen katana, an unlikely pair if there ever was one.
********************
Author's Notes:
So um yeah . . . if you have read this it means you are still following my story. My updating has slowed down - real life and well just plain old writer's block have come to test me. Hopefully I will be able to get going faster with all of this - time will tell eh?
1. This is a famous line from Shakespeare's Hamlet - Act I Scene V. I am just borrowing the line. I thought it was fitting.
2. Yes I know that Hisoka is already dead, but the shinigami are given a second life so to speak. They can still lose it and perish. Both Tatsumi and Tsuzuki have alluded to fates worse than death . . . so I hope you can see that.
I am not sure about Oriya's character. I get the feeling that there is something between Muraki and him, whether it is love or just friendship, but well that is writer's prerogative. I hope that Oriya didn't seem too 'womanly', but I wanted to show just how out of his league Oriya really is, and despite what he feels for Muraki, just how little he understands his 'friend'.
I believe that Muraki does have feelings for Oriya, but in an attempt to protect Oriya and perhaps himself, he continually pushes Oriya away. Ever heard of the phrase "need to be cruel to be kind?" Not to say that Muraki is a loving and caring person by any means - but he still is human, despite all his heinous actions. Muraki isn't stupid. He knows his path is a bloody one. When you love someone, you try to protect them, don't you? Once again twisted Muraki emotion. :)
Thanks once again to all who are still reading and following my story. I hope I haven't confused everyone to death. I know it is kinda moving slow, but I promise it will be picking up pretty soon. I have a tendency to focus on the characters emotions, rather than just plowing through the action. But yes there will be action! *yeay!*
Oh yeah, Kiiyue, Chymos and Hikaru are all original characters, created by me for my story. They are mine got it! And yes, I did say Hikaru. You didn't think I would have Muraki kill off a child and not have her matter would you? *evil laugh*
This story is loosely based on the manga and the anime, taking components from both. Some liberalizations taken by me to suit my plot. Hope I don't offend or confuse.
So on with the show!
Chapter Four - Trimming the Roses
By Lockeheart
********************
Cherry blossoms were ridiculously fragile. Beautiful to behold but short-lived, the pale pink petals were an ironic testament to human existence. Oriya Mibu watched the delicate wisps of colour float to the ground, dancing upon unseen currents of air. It was early morning, the time of rest for KoKatsuRou, but not for Oriya Mibu.
He reached out his hand palm first and gently caught a pale pink petal. It was almost ethereal, there in the palm of his hand, a simple but beautiful thing. He closed his fist around it; crushing it's perfection. People were like the cherry blossoms . . . elegant in their short existence, and even in their death; but oh so frail.
Dawn signified a new day, a new beginning. But for Oriya, head of the Mibu Clan, it did nothing more than herald the next revolution of the wheel of fate. His family held tradition in high regard, the idea almost a cornerstone to the entire Mibu bloodline. Tradition was of great importance, it signified who and what made a person. It reminded people where they came from, and where they were to go. For Oriya, it was nothing more than a slap in the face.
Fate led him upon a path he vowed to never follow. Tradition trapped him in an existence that was little more than a gilded cage. For Oriya, head of his family and owner of the KoKatsuRou, this new day was nothing more than another day of catering to the people in whom the public placed their trust. In another twisted sense of irony, Oriya himself held power over those politicians, his house privy to all their dark secrets. It was power that, while intoxicating, did nothing to quench the thirst of Oriya's soul.
Rising gracefully from the large rock he sat upon, Oriya watched the birth of a new day with little concern. He felt his gaze irrevocably drawn to the descending pale petals that scattered across the well kept garden. Beauty in death . . . the cherry blossoms taught a simple lesson. When he died, would he be as graceful in his last moments? Oriya pondered that thought as he strode across his garden to stand in the middle of its glory.
Breathing in deeply, Oriya noted absentmindedly that the pond would need to be skimmed. The cherry blossoms were beginning to conceal the clear water beneath and the playful koi that lived within it. Oriya let his gaze wander to the rose bushes that were finally beginning to show signs of new growth. Seeing the red buds reminded Oriya bitterly of a certain silver haired man who had left his life.
The flower was another satiric thing within Oriya's existence. The red rose was favoured by Muraki, and the nature of the rose suited the cold but beautiful man. Oriya shook his head slightly, eyeing the flowers with a kind of sadness. To gain sizable blossoms, it was necessary to cut off the infant buds. This accepted slaughter gave way for other greater beauty. In a sense, Muraki did the same, trimming out the weak and unneeded people within humanity, in an attempt to gain human perfection. At least, in Muraki's eyes he saw them as mere stepping stones to a greater ideal, but to Oriya it was nothing short of outright murder.
Oriya snorted softly at that thought. Muraki's official work on genetics was quite clever, and had the research not been destroyed, would have been beneficial to humanity. It was his unofficial work though, that had it been discovered, or let alone used; would have caused a moral dilemma of epic proportions. Along with the approved research, Muraki's darker projects also burned, and for that Oriya was moderately grateful. His devotion to a long time friend discouraged him from saying anything to the authorities, but it did not make him wish for different paths in life. Oriya's path was perhaps not as immoral, but still in darkness.
Muraki's path had strayed a long time ago from the ethical path of a doctor, and had become tainted with selfish desires. Oriya's continued acquaintance of Muraki was more for the man Muraki once was, and whom Oriya believed still existed in the twisted shell Muraki had become. It was ironic in a sense, he who was head of one of the most influential factors on the leaders of Japan, was ensnared by a single man.
Oriya gently reached out and picked one of the roses, raising the beautiful flower to the growing morning light. Yes . . . Muraki was like this flower. As much as he played the role of the gardener, trimming the 'roses' for greater beauty, Muraki was just as vulnerable as the people he experimented with. Entangled in his own web, to Oriya it seemed as if towards the end, it was not Muraki who chose his path, but rather the path refused to let him go.
Oriya unsheathed his katana and raised it to the blossoming daylight. Perhaps, like Oriya, Muraki also felt ensnared by a path he willingly began, but now could do nothing but blindly continue for lack of alternative? The blade glinted lightly in the rising sun, and Oriya just stared at the unsheathed blade, lost in memories.
Oriya shook his head at the foolishness of those thoughts. Everyone could choose their path, nothing truly forced a person to live a certain way. Not that circumstances, or other contributing factors could not and would not strengthen the belief that one did not have a choice. It was the resignation to live with the consequences of those decisions that bound people to paths they would rather leave . . . just like Oriya . . . just like Muraki.
To think of Muraki like a gardener in a field of roses - that metaphor glorified actions that were little more than immoral. Why he still deemed Muraki a friend, even after knowing what he truly did . . . was beyond understanding even for Oriya. It just was. Love, in whatever form it chose, tended to be blind that way.
Even towards the end, Oriya had been unable to sway Muraki from his chosen path. He watched from afar as his friend stepped further and further away from him, bound on a bloody path which only he could see the outcome. Oriya's companionship had not been enough to prevail over Muraki's dark obsessions. It was not enough to bring back that man from the past that Oriya had been drawn to, not enough to bring that good man back from where ever 'he' had fled. When Muraki had come to him that dark night, Oriya had known in his heart that it would be goodbye.
Dampness crept into Oriya's eye and he wiped at it angrily. To remember caused nothing but bitter memories and pain. Best to let the dead lie and continue on with his life. While Muraki may have escaped his path, Oriya still had his to journey upon. Oriya looked about his silent garden in sorrowful silence. It was wishful thinking to envision 'what ifs'. Muraki was dead, burned in the fires that had consumed the research building that held his research, both moral and immoral. Who Muraki once was, buried in the twisted shell he had become; that man would never come back. Perhaps it was righteous justice, that Muraki's lifelong research was destroyed in the fires that also took his life.
Muraki had abused his relationship with Oriya, using the head of the Mibu family to find sympathetic ears in the halls of power, and funding for his morbid projects. People were easily swayed by the engaging man, and Oriya was bound by Muraki's charm as well. As twisted as Muraki had become, there was something that drew Oriya to the man, like a moth to the flame. Oriya looked to the red rose in his other hand, and twirled the delicate stem slowly.
Muraki.
Why even now in his death, did the man still have a hold on him? Oriya tightened his grasp on the delicate rose and winced slightly as a sharp thorn bit cruelly into his flesh. The small drop of blood that welled from the wound was bright upon his skin, and Oriya could not help but think it was bitter irony. Like the flower, Muraki had drawn him in and mesmerized him, only to wound if he tried to get closer.
Had Oriya known what Muraki was intending to do, perhaps he would have acted differently. But deep within Oriya's heart, he knew that even if he would have known that night that Muraki would have died, he still probably wouldn't have been able to sway Muraki from his path. Instead he was left here in the land of the living, mourning the loss of a man who exploited their relationship. Oriya threw the offending rose into the air and grasped his katana firmly. Sometimes, it was better to let things die, than to have them continue on with their false life. He swung unerringly at the falling rose, and cut the flower in half.
Remembering the shinigami that had come to him, those caught up in Muraki's deadly final hand; Oriya recalled the fierce determination of the youngest of them. The sword fight they had engaged in had brought forth the youth's real desires, and for Oriya, it had been enough. Love was a fragile thing, and even though he had lost his claim on Muraki, Oriya was sure that green-eyed shinigami had kept his alive.
The katana glinted in the streaming morning light, and Oriya pressed the flat of the blade against his forehead gently. Born into a family priding tradition, Oriya took up activities that befitted his families status, but also ones that suited himself as an individual. He was a member of a dying race, a family seeped in tradition, and the ways of old.
Breathing deeply, Oriya let go of all his troublesome thoughts, and let his body take over. The endeavour of wielding a sword adeptly was hinged on a person's ability to focus. Desire swayed how accomplished one could become in the art of swordsmanship. Oriya swung his katana into the beginnings of a graceful kata. It was an activity that Muraki had thought little of, save for the usefulness of a sword to end a person's life. To Oriya, the art of swordsmanship taught lessons that modern day living could never provide.
The silence of the garden soothed him, the only disturbance the katana's voice as it sliced through the air, and the silk of Oriya's kimono whispering quietly with his movements. Here, Oriya was at peace, for these precious moments with the rising of the sun, Oriya belonged to no one but himself. The burdens of the KoKatsuRou and the smooth operation of both its guises were almost a different life. The boundaries and limitations of tradition and family did not haunt Oriya here in the complex dance of the sword.
Here in his garden, Oriya could contemplate his cherry blossoms and rose buds, and all the entangled thoughts attached. In the still of the early morning, his burden did not seem so heavy. Here, Oriya was just Oriya.
The wooden gate to the entrance of his garden squeaked softly and Oriya eyed the offending gate silently. His people knew to leave him in peace during this time of the day, so this was unusual. As a figure stepped through the threshold Oriya could do little more than stare in absolute shock. His katana slid out of his nerveless hands to thud softly onto dew covered grass.
The broken rose lay beside the fallen katana, an unlikely pair there in the rising sun.
********************
Oriya accepted the items he had requested from one of his servant ladies, making sure to block her view of the interior of his bedroom. He closed the door, and listened as her footfalls receded from his senses. Sighing softly, Oriya turned around and carried his small burden to the edge of his futon, kneeling to place them on a small stool there.
"Are you afraid for her to see me?"
Oriya turned to look at his unexpected guest and shook his head slightly. "What do you think? Rumours are already going to be flying wildly just from my calling for bandages and such. They know that I have someone here - just not who." Oriya turned his attention to the bundle before him and unrolled the cloth. "It is bad enough that I am entertaining a ghost, best not to let the help think I am mad just yet."
Muraki eyed him with faint amusement, and Oriya could not help but shiver slightly under the man's gaze. "They are much too loyal to you to think you are mad - at least not to your face." Muraki was half clothed, his shirt and jacket carelessly tossed across a chair. Seeing Muraki there, half naked, if injured in his bed made Oriya blush . . . almost. "And to think that I am a ghost . . . you underestimate my abilities Oriya."
"Perhaps I did," Oriya knelt down beside Muraki and picked up one of the bandages. He raised his eyes to Muraki's. "I thought you were dead."
Muraki looked down to the minor wounds on his body and shrugged. "What can I say Oriya? When I am determined, I always get what I want. You know that." He frowned and gingerly touched a gash along his forearm. "Although I will admit, tonight I was careless."
It had to be a dream. Muraki was dead, burned in the fires that had concluded his encounter with the shinigami. The man who lay in his bed, half undressed and wounded . . . couldn't be Muraki . . . could it? Oriya brushed a stray hair away from face and turned his attention to the roll of gauze in his hand. Unless he had gone mad, than there could be no doubt. Muraki was alive.
He lifted the gauze in his hand and began to unfurl it. "Why are you here Muraki?" Oriya raised his amber eyes to meet aloof mismatched ones. "You pulled me into your plans, asking me to delay those who you said were your enemy, exploiting our friendship to further your plans. I honoured your request, even though in my heart I could not understand what had possessed you to dabble in things beyond comprehension." Oriya felt his chest tighten slightly with emotion but he needed to know, to hear Muraki's explanation. "How did you survive that terrible fire?"
Muraki's eyes locked onto Oriya's own, and Oriya couldn't help but feel shivers down his spine. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy[1]." Muraki flexed his arm, wincing slightly as the movement aggravated his wounds. "Let's just say dear Oriya, that I have some very powerful allies now."
Oriya frowned at Muraki's cryptic comment, but said nothing. What could he say? Muraki's business had always been beyond his understanding, and in some respects, it was better he did not know. "Well . . . I suppose that I should just be grateful that you survived," The rolling emotion within Oriya was strong, but he kept it all away from his face. There was no need to let Muraki know just how much his arrival here threw Oriya out of balance. "But it would have been kind Muraki, to give me word that you lived. At least then my troubled soul would have been at ease."
Frowning slightly, Muraki reached out a hand and gently brushed at Oriya's hair, a very intimate gesture, and Oriya fought not to jerk from Muraki's touch. "You really are beautiful when you are angry Oriya." Muraki smiled and let his hand drop from Oriya's hair. "Especially when you are trying not to show it."
Oriya shook his head and focussed his attention on the gauze in his hands. "Do not toy with me Muraki. I am not like your other dolls." He flashed a look of anger up to Muraki. "I am only helping you now because we are friends, but even friendship has its limits."
Raising his hands in mock surrender, Muraki leaned back against the propped up pillows behind him. "I'll remember that."
The tone of Muraki's voice was deadpan, so Oriya was not sure if Muraki meant the phrase as a threat or as an understanding. Brushing his hair out of the way, Oriya picked up a wet cloth and gently dabbed at one of the wounds on Muraki. "Why are you here Muraki?"
"Can't I come to visit an old friend?" Muraki said with an unconcerned tone. Oriya frowned at Muraki but refrained from commenting.
"You never just 'drop by' for a visit. There is always an agenda with you Muraki." Oriya smiled softly up to Muraki. "You told me you would disappear, never to trouble me with your presence anymore." Oriya tightened his grip on the gauze in his hands. "Did it even occur to you that perhaps it would bother me more not to have you here?" Oriya laughed softly at how childish his words were.
He was lamenting something that he could not change, something that was thoroughly Muraki. Throughout their relationship, Muraki always was perplexing, even before he had stained his hands in the blood of innocents. It was just who Muraki was. Oriya sighed and edged closer to the edge of the futon. "So why do you renege on your promise? What do you want now Muraki?"
Muraki's eyes were cold, and Oriya looked away from them and pulled on Muraki's arm to gently begin bandaging the singed flesh. Silence filled the room, and Oriya had almost given up on Muraki even contemplating his questions, when Muraki spoke. "I came . . . because I know you won't betray me." The words were quiet, and Oriya fumbled slightly in his administrations. A cool hand touched upon Oriya's cheek, drawing his face up to look at Muraki's own. "You have always stood by my side, through thick or thin."
Oriya pulled his face away from Muraki's hand and turned his attention back to what he had been doing. "You speak flowery words as usual Muraki. But I wonder if you really believe them." Oriya frowned slightly and brushed back his long hair. "You always speak nice to me when you want something, even now with your amazing ascension from the grave, I am sure you are still wanting the same."
"You wound me." Muraki's voice sounded almost pained, and Oriya wished if only for a moment that he could believe that Muraki cared anything for him beyond their friendship. "You are one of the few people I consider a friend Oriya . . ."
The emotions passing between the two of them, Oriya could not label, only that it hurt and healed at the same time. "You have a funny way of showing your friends you care." He smiled softly and shook his head. "You cannot even begin to understand what I have gone through."
"If you ask, I will leave."
"You know I will hold you to that, you know that Muraki?" Oriya could see Muraki's nod of consensus from the corner of his eye and he let loose another soft sigh. "The authorities said you were dead, the body almost unrecognizable. I went to identify the remains . . . do you know how painful it was to see my friend supposedly dead?" Oriya felt his chest tighten as he spoke the words. He had mourned his friend's death in isolation, and had not spoken about anything that had happened then to anyone.
"I'm sorry Oriya."
Oriya snorted at the words and tied off the bandage around Muraki's arm. "Somehow I am not convinced you really mean that, but I do appreciate your effort at sincerity." He darted his eyes up to Muraki's own. "These wounds are recent, they can't be from the fire in Kyoto . . . What have you gotten yourself into Muraki?" Oriya looked Muraki directly in the eyes, trying to will a decipherable reply to his questions. Muraki's tendency to speak in vague terms frustrated Oriya, was it too hard for Muraki to trust him?
It was almost unnoticeable, but Oriya could have sworn he saw a flicker of anger cross Muraki's elegant face. "I have started up on a new venture Oriya. My partners are disagreeable, but powerful." Muraki touched his newly bandaged arm thoughtfully and Oriya felt Muraki's piercing gaze fall upon him. "We were completing phase one of our endeavour, but it seems we underestimated the reaction of our targets."
It took some restraint in Oriya not to raise his eyebrows in confusion. He calmly grabbed another bandage and began to address another wound on Muraki's shoulder. In times like these, it was better to just listen to Muraki talk than to question - usually things got clearer as the doctor voiced his thoughts. "It was suppose to be simple. Lambs often run the way you want if you stamp out the path you want them to take. Especially with the proper enticement, it is incredible just how easy it is to manipulate them."
Muraki stared off to the far wall of Oriya's bedroom, and Oriya just let Muraki talk. "But sometimes, when an animal is cornered, they rise beyond expected reactions, and a lamb can quickly become a ferocious tiger. We underestimated their strength, and in essence, plans have changed." Muraki turned to look calmly at Oriya. "I'm just confusing you, aren't I Oriya?"
Oriya abstained from commenting, instead focussing on tying off the bandage around Muraki's shoulder. "Why can't you trust me Muraki?" Oriya raised his eyes to look up into Muraki's own. His words were blunt, and a little harsh; but they were honest. "I may not approve of your actions, but we are friends and we were much closer once upon a time." Oriya stilled in his administrations to brush his fingers along the length of Muraki's forearm. "I have done everything you have asked, even when I doubted you. Am I nothing but a servant to you rather than a friend now?"
For a fraction of a second, Oriya could have sworn he saw a flash of sorrow upon Muraki's face, but it quickly vanished, lost in Muraki's usual indifferent expression. "There are just some things Oriya, that I will not reveal to you ever. Unlike me, there is still some decency left in you. I will not be the one to destroy it." Muraki pulled away from Oriya's light touch. "I must succeed in this endeavour, everything depends on it."
Oriya shook his head disapprovingly. "Why is it always all or nothing with you Muraki? Why can't you just walk away from it? Why does it matter so much?" He felt like screaming, Muraki's words frustrated him at the same time warmed him. "Why?"
"Because I've lost almost everything Oriya." Muraki touched his bandaged arm thoughtfully. "If I am to gain even a fraction of what I lost . . . I must succeed here. Nothing will deter me from what I desire, not Tsuzuki or his pathetic sidekick, not my business partners, not you." Muraki glared cooly up to Oriya. "Save your pleas for someone who cares."
Oriya could do little but glare angrily back at Muraki. "You are a bastard . . . you know that?" He finished the last of the dressings for Muraki and stood up. "Is it so wrong for me to care? Hell! I don't even understand why I even bother with you anymore!"
"You bother, because we are friends." Muraki looked up at Oriya with a disarming look and the anger Oriya felt vanished. Muraki reached out and gently grasped Oriya's arm. Oriya felt himself being pulled down to sit upon the edge of the futon. Oriya shivered slightly as Muraki's hand trailed lightly up his arm to cup his cheek. "You really are beautiful."
Oriya tried to pull away from Muraki's deceptively gentle touch, but was deterred by Muraki's other arm snaking it's way behind his head to grasp the nap of his neck softly. "Muraki . . ." His voice was quiet there in the stillness of the room, and Oriya felt as if time had stopped.
"I wish . . ." Muraki's voice echoed the hushed tones of Oriya's, and Oriya's eyes widened as Muraki pressed his forehead against his own. There were only a precious few moments that Oriya had ever seen Muraki this way, his barriers lowered. Muraki caressed the line of Oriya's face. "I wish I didn't have to . . ."
Oriya sat still, willing for Muraki to finish his words, but was disappointed when Muraki drew away from him instead. The warmth of Muraki's touch lay upon his skin, and Oriya felt almost betrayed. For a single moment, the man that he had fallen in love with, the man who Oriya had watch shift into the cruel man Muraki now was, had appeared.
"I won't stay long."
"You never do."
The silence between the two of them was enormous, and Oriya felt that if he didn't leave the room he was going to do something he would regret. He needed room to breathe, time to think. Muraki's arrival had thrown everything within him into chaos. Was his only function in Muraki's life little more than to provide the man companionship? He smoothed out his kimono and flashed a displeased glance to the injured man.
"For friendships sake, I will let you stay for now, even with your cryptic explanations." Oriya stepped across his bedroom to the sliding door that provided an escape. Frustration welled within Oriya, and it was not just because of Muraki's miraculous survival.
"You asked me once long ago . . . that if you died before me, even if it was false, would I cry even one tear for you?" Oriya turned to face Muraki, raising his eyes to meet Muraki's own. "Well I did."
Oriya turned and opened the sliding door, not waiting to hear Muraki's response, or even if the callous man would even respond. It was just something Oriya felt he needed to say. He slid the door closed and stepped across the wooden platform and back down into his sanctuary, leaving behind a man who confused his heart.
********************
The garden soothed Oriya's weary soul, and eased his troubled mind. Oriya spied his dropped katana and mentally berated himself. Ghost or not, Muraki's appearance shouldn't have derailed his sensibility. A swordsman never abandoned his weapon like that, to do so was disrespectful and irresponsible. Oriya picked up the katana gently, and wiped the accumulated dew on the sleeve of his kimono. Unlike Muraki, the sword never hurt him, or abandoned him.
Oriya held his katana upright, the hilt smooth and familiar like an old friend. He needed to find his balance, he needed to just be. Closing his eyes slowly, Oriya breathed in slowly and began the complex motions of one of his katas. He needed to pretend, if only for a moment, that Muraki wasn't here in his house.
The fluidity of motion calmed the turmoil within him, and Oriya let all his troubling thoughts of Muraki slowly fade. The relationship between him and Muraki was bizarre, but oddly right. He opened his eyes and let his gaze travel over the closed door to his bedroom, all the while moving through his sword motions. Sometimes chaos was a welcome thing . . .
When a man in a trench coat 'materialized' in his garden, Oriya hesitated for only a second. There were very few beings that he knew of that had those kinds of abilities. The man stood by the pond, watching Oriya's deadly dance with the katana. If the shinigami was rude enough to enter without permission, Oriya would not give him the courtesy of acknowledging his presence.
Oriya observed the intruder through the corner of his eye, never missing a step of his complex kata. Dressed in black, the man seemed almost the antithesis of Muraki, at least in appearance. The man seemed warm, unlike Muraki's coldness and seemed to have the air of one whose life has been long and tiring, despite how young he looked. As Oriya inspected the trespasser, startling amethyst eyes rose to meet his, and Oriya knew he could no long keep up the pretense of his ignorance.
He stopped and lowered his katana into an unassuming stance. "Do you often spy on people?" He turned his head to acknowledge the violet-eyed man's presence. "Your friends from before at least were polite and turned visible for me."
The startled expression on the other man's face was amusing and Oriya fought the urge to smile slightly. The man was an unwelcome visitor, let him be embarrassed. He brushed a hand through his long dark hair and eyes the man with a cold glare.
"You can see me?"
Oriya snorted slightly at the question and raised his amber eyes to meet confused violet ones. "Obviously. I wouldn't talk to a figment of my imagination now would I?"
"But I'm - "
"Yes I have already gone through this. You are invisible to the normal human eye; a shinigami." Oriya tapped the side of his head by his eye thoughtfully. "Some people are more inclined to seeing . . . spiritual energies than others." Oriya sheathed his katana in one quick motion and stood in the clearing impatiently. "So are you going to continue gawking or am I going to have to throw you off of my property?"
The man in the trench coat fidgeted uncomfortably and suddenly his form 'solidified' for the lack of a better term to Oriya's eyes. "Well that is an improvement at least." Oriya eyed his guest critically. "Who are you?"
"You are Oriya Mibu . . . are you not?"
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes Oriya raised an eyebrow to the shinigami's question. "Yes I am him, what is your business with me shinigami?" Oriya flickered a glance to where he knew Muraki lay. Was it just coincidence that a shinigami had come here at the same time Muraki had miraculously reappeared in Oriya's life? Oriya eyed the man critically, and was surprised when the man did little more than stare back at him.
Oriya sighed quietly and rubbed at his temples. Was it Muraki's talent that constantly brought Oriya trouble? "Are you here to take me?" Despite his previous encounter with the shinigami, Oriya knew that the primary business of the mythical beings was the taking of souls. "Cause if you are, I think I would welcome it. My soul is weary of this existence." Oriya smiled grimly at the shocked man before him.
"I'm not here for that . . ." Oriya watched as the man twitched uncomfortably under his gaze. "I'm actually looking for Muraki Kazutaka. I was told by my associates that he is a friend of yours?" Finally, they were starting to get somewhere.
Oriya crossed the distance between the two of them, stopping at near the edge of the pond. "Pity." This conversation bordered the line of annoyance. "Are you going to tell me who you are? Since you seem to know who I am, it seems terribly unfair don't you think?"
"His name is Tsuzuki Asato."
Oriya didn't need to turn around to know that Muraki stood in the threshold before the garden. The look in Tsuzuki's eyes was one of rage and surprise and Oriya felt that perhaps this shinigami had been one of the 'targets' that Muraki had spoke of.
"Muraki . . ." The menace in Tsuzuki's eyes was unmistakable to Oriya and he discreetly placed his hand upon the hilt of his katana. "I had a feeling you would flee here."
The sound of footsteps informed Oriya of Muraki's approach, not that the tenseness in Tsuzuki's stance wouldn't have provided him the same information. Oriya turned just enough so that he could see both Muraki and Tsuzuki in his field of vision. The tension was undeniable, and Oriya would be damned before he let something happen here in his establishment.
Muraki had redressed himself, the scorch marks on his usually pristine white jacket unmistakable. If Muraki showed any pain from his injuries, Oriya could not discern the man's discomfort. "Flee is such a cowardly term, I prefer strategic retreat." Muraki smiled slightly towards Tsuzuki.
"I think the term monster suits you much better." Tsuzuki clenched his fists in anger and Oriya looked back and forth between the two talking men in slight alarm. "We haven't finished our dance from before!"
Muraki raised his finger to tap his chin thoughtfully. "Oh yes . . . I recall a certain boy messing up the spell I worked so hard to prepare." He flashed a smile to Tsuzuki which served to inflame the shinigami even more. Oriya glared at the two men in rising anger, was he invisible? "Pathetic Hisoka, his concern for you caused him to get himself rather wounded.
Oriya noted that Tsuzuki used great will not to rise to Muraki's bait. Violet eyes glared coldly at Muraki. "Where is the child's soul Muraki? What was the purpose of murdering a child?"
Murder a child? Oriya glanced toward Muraki, confusion pulling at his heart. He had known that Muraki had delved into dark things, but this was the first time he had actually heard of Muraki's exploits. What had Muraki stepped into?
"You should know I would do anything for you dear Tsuzuki." Muraki's smile was cold, and Oriya felt dread spread throughout him. Muraki was killing again? "Besides, it seems as if you have greater concerns than a missing child. Tell me Tsuzuki, is my doll dead [2] yet?"
Even Oriya was unprepared for the immense speed at which Tsuzuki moved, instead finding the angry shinigami grasping the collar of Muraki's jacket. "You bastard!!" Tsuzuki shook Muraki violently and dropped the silver haired man like a sack of potatoes. "I should kill you right now for all you have done."
On the wet grass, Muraki still just calmly smiled up to Tsuzuki, and Oriya shook his head. "My, my . . . so ferocious Tsuzuki. But tell me, what will happen to poor Hikaru's soul if you slay me here?" Muraki gracefully got to his feet and brushed at his pants. "And don't forget Hisoka . . . who knows what will happen to him?"
"Shut the hell up!" Tsuzuki waved his hand in a dismissing motion in front of him. "You are going to tell me what I want to know or so help me . . ."
"We have already discussed this before, dear Tsuzuki. You can't kill me, your code forbids it." Muraki calmly folded his arms across his chest, and Oriya couldn't help but feel anger toward Muraki.
Oriya stepped between the two of them, interrupting the staring match the two men were unconsciously having and glared angrily to both of them in turn. "I don't know what he has done to you Mr. Asato . . ." Oriya turned his head to Muraki. "Nor do I know why you Muraki are so adamant in your desire to cause this man trouble . . . But whatever the case, I want you both to leave." Oriya shook his head angrily, it was too much, too soon. "I will not let you two fight here in the KoKatsuRou."
Oriya turned to eye Tsuzuki warily. "I am not sure just what Muraki has done, and I don't want to know. But it troubles me that you thought to come here to find Muraki. I am not his keeper or his leash. I do not condone or encourage his heinous actions, and it offends me to think that you would believe me to be a part of them." Oriya shook his head and pinned Tsuzuki under his gaze. "I am sorry for whatever has befallen your friend, from what I recall of him, he had a fiery spirit. Whatever has happened to him, I am sure he will survive."
He knew he was treading on thin ice here, but Oriya had just about enough surprises this morning. He looked to Muraki and let eyes convey the anger he felt. "I helped you now because you are a friend Muraki, but I will not let you drag me into one of your schemes." Oriya unsheathed his katana and held it loosely but ready to be used. "You said before if I asked you to leave, you would. So I am asking you, leave me Muraki, and don't come back here unless you have something genuine to say to me."
The tension in the garden was fierce and Oriya was amazed that not one of the men had lashed back out at his tirade. He held his katana defensively, not willing to underestimate either one of his 'visitors'. It was probably that action that saved Oriya's life.
The small pond in the garden erupted in an explosion of water, and Oriya barely had a chance to register that fact when he found himself face to face with a pair of glowing gold eyes. What it was, or why it was there, Oriya did not have time to comprehend.
It was . . . breathtaking. It was a lowly word, but the only one that Oriya could think of to describe the creature that had emerged from the pond. It was a woman, but a pale shadow of one. Clothed in a crimson dress, the pale skinned beauty was a sight to behold. It's hair was long and lustrous, deep ebony against the shadowy bat wings that sprouted from it's back. In her hands she held a coiled whip, it's tip covered with deadly barbs. Yet even with all of that, Oriya felt his gaze affixed to those glowing gold eyes.
Awareness seemed to seep away from Oriya as he beheld those golden eyes, and the 'woman' smiled coldly at him. A set of sharp fangs protruded from her smile, and she lunged forward. When the deadly whip lashed at him, it was his katana that protected him from impalement, even held loosely in his hands. The katana fell to the ground, embraced in the deadly hold of the whip. A set of arms wrapped around Oriya and gently pulled him into an embrace, blocked off his line of sight from the creature. It was only then that Oriya felt his senses come back to life.
He shook his head to clear the mental fog that had enshrouded him and Oriya grasped the arm of the figure that had saved him. He looked up and saw that the one who had grabbed him was none other than Muraki himself. "Muraki . . ." Oriya could do little but stare in shock at the man. Why had Muraki saved him?
"Aww, you're no fun Muraki. I haven't played with a male this pretty in a while." The woman flipped her hair away from her face coyly and batted her eyelashes at Muraki innocently. Her eyes glowed brightly. "It's only one human, let me play with him."
Muraki glared coldly at the creature and Oriya felt Muraki's arms tighten possessively around him. "Back off Kiiyue, your petty tricks won't work on me, so stop it already." Muraki waved his arm dismissively in front of him, the other still wound around Oriya's form. "This one is under my protection." Muraki slowly let go of Oriya and stood up straight. "What are you doing here?"
The woman toyed with a lock of her hair playfully. "Do you think you can really protect him from me Muraki? You are either bold or stupid. I hope for my Lord's sake it is the former." The demon woman flapped her bat wings slightly and raised a single eyebrow. "When Chymos didn't return to the castle to inform us of your progress, my Lord sent me to gather information." She flitted her gaze over to Oriya and smiled coldly. "Never let a human do a demon's job . . . or something like that." Kiiyue flicked her whip casually and Oriya watched his katana fall to the ground with a dull thud.
Oriya quickly retrieved his fallen weapon and backed away from the demon and Muraki slowly. Was this one of the allies that Muraki spoke of? He stole a glance back to Tsuzuki who stood forgotten, the shinigami also seemingly stunned into inaction by the newcomer. What in God's name had Muraki gotten himself involved with?
"That demon, Chymos you said?, he was useless. Instead of sticking to the plan he decided to play." Muraki shook his head angrily and raised his cold eyes to Kiiyue's. "If he is the type of the 'help' your Lord is to send me, than I think I am sorely mistaken in the usefulness of this partnership."
Kiiyue tilted her head slightly and smiled. "It is in a demon's nature to play. Toying with your prey, feeding off their fear and anger; it is intoxicating to us." She tapped the handle of her whip lightly against the side of her head. "You do the same, even now with that shinigami and his partner, you toy with them." She pointed over to Tsuzuki who glared hatefully back at her. "See? Even now when we are suppose to be working, you play Muraki."
"A demon?" Oriya didn't even realize he had spoken the words aloud until he found three sets of eyes staring at him. Oriya ignored all of them save for one. "Haven't you stained your hands enough Muraki? What has possessed you to work with such creatures?"
Muraki tilted his head slightly and Oriya was dismayed by the cold look his friend gave him. "If you value your life Oriya, you will leave here now. I cannot guarantee your safety." Muraki then dismissed Oriya like he was nothing and turned to the demon. "Kiiyue, tell your Lord that I have things under control; despite his assigned 'help'. Chymos is gone, presumably destroyed in the fusing of the two spells. I have traced the spell and will complete phase one of the operation alone."
"Muraki!" Tsuzuki spat the word out contemptibly. Oriya watched as Tsuzuki turned his head to Muraki, the anger in the violet eyes apparent. "What have you started? What have you done to Hisoka? Where is the child's soul?!"
"Awww . . . I think you have made him angry Muraki." Kiiyue smiled and hefted her weapon. "Stupid shinigami, always simpering and grovelling to your 'God'. It makes me sick." Her eyes glowed brightly and Oriya made sure to look away from the glowing orbs. "How does it feel shinigami to be a part of the destruction of Meifu?"
"Shut up Kiiyue." Muraki's voice was chill in the garden, and Oriya could feel spiritual energy building in the area. "We don't have time for this. The spell, while corrupted, is still functioning. We can still salvage the mess Chymos has made." Muraki took a couple of steps towards the garden gates, his form tense. "Go back to your master filthy beast."
A bolt of blue energy crashed into the demon woman, causing her to shriek horribly. Tsuzuki stood defensively, his hands glowing slightly from his departed projectile. "Like hell you two are leaving here. I came for answers and I am not leaving without them." Oriya raised his katana defensively, sensing the beginnings of a battle. "I will not let you harm Hisoka any further Muraki."
Muraki eyed the wounded form of his winged companion calmly. "Poor Tsuzuki . . . so clueless." Oriya watched as a sickly red light enveloped Muraki's form. "I'm surprised Tsuzuki that you haven't rushed your partner back to Meifu, especially considering the condition he is in." Muraki tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder why? Perhaps your Enma has forsaken you?" Muraki nodded his head in mock politeness to both Tsuzuki and to Oriya.
"I'd love to stay and chat, but we really must be going. Wheels are being set in motion, and I don't have time to play at the moment." Muraki nudged the form of Kiiyue slightly with his foot, causing a growl of anger to come from the winged demon. "Really Kiiyue, you are too slow. Get up."
Tsuzuki shook his head angrily and slowly formed another ball of energy in his hands. "I told you before Muraki, there are worse things than death. Take a single step closer to Hisoka and you will wish that you had never met me." Tsuzuki blasted another bolt of energy towards Muraki and Oriya watched in shock as Muraki just stood there.
Scarlet energy crackled to life in front of Muraki forming a shield that dissipated Tsuzuki's projectile. Oriya cringed slightly at the display of power. While he was a master swordsman, he could do little against chi energies. Was Muraki not going to honour his promise to leave?
Muraki smiled calmly as the light from the energies flared down and shook his head in disapproval at Tsuzuki. "Really Tsuzuki. We have done this already. Let me show you something new I have learned, a useful spell really." Oriya watched Muraki's eyes narrow and stood in numb horror. Is this what his friend had become?
"Just kill him Muraki!" Kiiyue had finally stood up, her black wings askew. She barred her fangs at Tsuzuki. "We got the target, he is useless."
Oriya watched as Muraki just shook his head sadly at the raging demon. In the tone of a parent to a child, Muraki spoke back to the demon woman. "Really now Kiiyue, is everything just play and kill to you? I told you, get out of here demon!" Muraki turned his attention back to Tsuzuki. "Now Tsuzuki, I have a really intriguing spell I've been dying to try out. I hope you don't mind being my guinea pig."
Magical energies wove between Muraki's outstretched arms, and to Oriya, it looked like a twisted game of 'cat's cradle'. "I had a bit of time to work this one out, considering you and your partner went and destroyed my life's work." Muraki raised his hands higher and the rising energies increased. "What can you do to stop me from taking away your precious partner if you cannot use your powers?"
Oriya looked back and forth between Tsuzuki and Muraki, anger and apprehension filling his being. What was going on? Had the world gone insane? He had to do something, anything to stop Muraki from shedding more blood. Oriya ran forward towards the two combatants.
"I don't believe you - " Tsuzuki started to reply to Muraki's comment, but a lash from the demon woman's whip cut his words short. Kiiyue smiled coldly at Tsuzuki.
Muraki smiled at Tsuzuki and finished the last words of his spell. "NULLIFY." Oriya fell to his knees as a blinding ball of dazzling colours flew from Muraki's hands to strike Tsuzuki where he stood. Oriya watched as Tsuzuki's blue shield wavered, then collapsed as the swirling magics enveloped the violet-eyed man.
"Get the hell out of here! All of you!" Oriya staggered to his feet, his katana drawn before him. Fury and horror consumed him, and the question running over and over in Oriya's mind was just 'Why?'. He did not want to be a part of Muraki's dark world, to have his life bound to Muraki's own bloody one, even though in his heart Oriya knew he was already bound to Muraki.
The swirling energies dissipated and Oriya looked over to find Tsuzuki kneeling on the ground, his arms pulled over his head protectively. The spell didn't destroy the shinigami . . . Oriya lowered his blade a fraction of an inch and watched as Tsuzuki slowly stood up.
Tsuzuki held his hands in front of him and looked at them in shock. "What have you . . .? Where are my . . .?" Tsuzuki looked towards Muraki in mute horror. "What have you done to my powers?!"
Muraki eyed Tsuzuki critically like he would an experiment and Oriya felt his stomach drop. "Nothing really Tsuzuki. I've just locked them up for a bit. I need you to stop interfering for a moment and let me complete my task." Muraki spoke to Tsuzuki in a quiet but deadly tone. "I unfortunately haven't perfected the spell to be permanent, but it will do the job." Muraki smiled sickly and his crimson energies flowed around him.
Oriya watched as Muraki slowly rose into the air, suspended by the horrible web of energy he had created. He glanced back to Tsuzuki who seemed almost frozen, shocked at what Muraki had been able to accomplish. "Muraki!!" Oriya yelled towards the doctor, anger flowing through him. Was nothing sacred anymore?
"Wretched shinigami! I'll make you pay for damaging my beautiful skin!" Kiiyue screeched horribly and raced towards the immobile Tsuzuki. Oriya turned and watched the demon speed towards Tsuzuki, her deadly whip raised. "DIE!!"
"NO!" Oriya sprinted forward, his katana raised. Shinigami or not, Oriya would be damned if blood spilled in his garden. Demons, magics, it didn't matter; Oriya was still a master swordsman, and that counted for something . . . didn't it?
Oriya stopped in front of Tsuzuki and braced himself, the cruel edge of the whip arcing closer to his tender flesh. The demon woman was no longer beautiful, but rather a frightening distortion of what she had been. The deadly blades flew closer and Oriya stood his ground, his katana raised defensively. Dimly Oriya could hear voices yelling, presumably at him, but in the heat of the moment, nothing mattered save for the opponent in front of him.
Arms grabbed him from behind and a weight pushed Oriya to the ground. Oriya glanced behind him and saw that Tsuzuki was above him, and he had been the one to urge him to the ground. The deadly whip of the demon streaked above the two of them, ripping through the upturned tail of Tsuzuki's trench coat instead of human flesh.
Kiiyue cried out in annoyance at Tsuzuki's and Oriya's actions and Oriya glanced toward the demon in apprehension. Didn't he just say he never wanted to be dragged into Muraki's schemes? Oriya pushed himself up off the ground to defend himself once again. He could see that Tsuzuki had also rose from the ground, his appearance shaken. Oriya was not sure what was meant by powers bound, but to the shinigami it was probably devastating.
The winged woman barred her fangs at the two of them and started to rush forward, only to be paralysed by a web of crimson energy. Oriya looked up and saw that Muraki had thrown the energy net, the look on his face one of great annoyance. "Damn it Kiiyue! Can't you even listen? I told you go back to your master!"
The woman struggled fruitlessly against the bindings of the web. "And I told you doctor, demons play with their prey! He is helpless! Destroy him now!" Kiiyue attempted to spread her wings and somehow they began to slice through the energy web. Oriya watched her actions in morbid fascination, then looked up to Muraki. Kiiyue's eyes flashed in anger and she shook her head in disappointment. "I told you before doctor, you must either be bold or stupid to stop me from doing what I please. Apparently you are stupid!"
Tsuzuki grabbed Oriya and pulled him back, and Oriya let the shinigami do so. Shock was such a pitiful word to describe what he was feeling. Why had Muraki stopped the demon from attacking? Weren't they suppose to be allies?
"And I am telling you one last time Kiiyue, go home." Muraki's voice was calm but deadly and Oriya stared at his friend in dismay. "I won't have any more of your kind messing up things. The target is first and foremost our priority. It would do you well to remember that Kiiyue."
Oriya watched as the demon woman glared scathingly up towards the doctor, and then she turned her gaze to Oriya and Tsuzuki. "Hmph. Fine then. I suppose there are more important things than playing." She eyed Oriya up and down suggestively. "Better watch you back handsome, interfering in a demon's business can be an unpleasant experience." She turned her gaze to Tsuzuki who just stared back at her. "Lucky day for you today shinigami. You get to live - for now."
The demon woman bowed mockingly to the two men on the ground and glared up to Muraki. "Careful doctor. Sometimes even allies have a falling out." With that she jumped backwards into the pond, not even leaving a ripple in the water.
"Muraki!!" Oriya turned to see Tsuzuki yelling up to the floating doctor. "Stay away from Hisoka! I'm warning you!" The wind picked up, flinging Tsuzuki's shredded coat ends into the air.
Smiling coldly, Muraki hovered in the sky, supported by his crimson net. "There is nothing you can do dear Tsuzuki. Your powers are bound for the time being." Muraki tapped the side of his head gently. "Do try to follow the conversation Tsuzuki."
"Muraki?!" Oriya called out his friend's name, confusion evident in his voice. Where was Muraki going? Why was he consorting with Demons? Oriya took a couple of steps towards the doctor. "Stop this!"
Muraki turned his gaze to Oriya, his eyes cold and hard. "I'm sorry Oriya for involving you in this, I will endeavour to maintain my promise this time." Muraki shook his head, and Oriya could do little more than stare in shock at his friend. "Don't shed any more tears for me Oriya, it doesn't suit you." The emotional backlash of Muraki's comments floored Oriya to the ground. "Goodbye Oriya."
Oriya shook his head angrily at Muraki's words, and held his katana defensively in front of him. "You bastard. I knew you were selfish, but not this selfish." Perhaps it was the high emotions in the area, or the tension, but Oriya didn't care. Muraki was walking away from him, on a path bloodstained and shunned by God. If Muraki left now, there would be no chance left to find the man he cared for inside the twisted shell Muraki had become. "Muraki!"
"Find yourself someone else to love Oriya. I cannot return your feelings." Muraki shook his head slightly and returned his gaze to Tsuzuki. "I welcome you to try to stop me Tsuzuki, but I am warning you, it will be a worthless effort." Muraki began to move. "I will take Hisoka, and in turn destroy everything precious to you."
Oriya just stared at Muraki, his heart numb inside. Muraki had known . . . he had known how Oriya had felt, and he still used him. Oriya lowered his katana and watched Muraki fly away, Tsuzuki chasing after him. Idly Oriya wondered just how Tsuzuki was going to stop Muraki from taking Hisoka away from him. Muraki had told Oriya earlier that he always gets what he wants. With his powers bound, Tsuzuki would just like Oriya, he would lose what was precious to him.
Oriya dropped to the ground, his emotions drained. Today had been just one surprise after another. Nothing would be the same . . . and if any of the cryptic comments Muraki had made were true, nothing would be for the rest of the world either. Oriya looked down to his katana, and spied the rose he had cut in half earlier that morning.
He had attributed Muraki to the frailness of a rose, but Oriya had forgotten that he too was just another of those roses. Oriya laid his katana beside the broken flower and rose to his feet. He too was just another rosebud to be trimmed to gain a greater goal. Muraki had not murdered him, but he had killed off something that was as integral to Oriya as his life itself. Oriya walked back into his house, leaving his katana in the garden.
The broken rose lay beside the fallen katana, an unlikely pair if there ever was one.
********************
Author's Notes:
So um yeah . . . if you have read this it means you are still following my story. My updating has slowed down - real life and well just plain old writer's block have come to test me. Hopefully I will be able to get going faster with all of this - time will tell eh?
1. This is a famous line from Shakespeare's Hamlet - Act I Scene V. I am just borrowing the line. I thought it was fitting.
2. Yes I know that Hisoka is already dead, but the shinigami are given a second life so to speak. They can still lose it and perish. Both Tatsumi and Tsuzuki have alluded to fates worse than death . . . so I hope you can see that.
I am not sure about Oriya's character. I get the feeling that there is something between Muraki and him, whether it is love or just friendship, but well that is writer's prerogative. I hope that Oriya didn't seem too 'womanly', but I wanted to show just how out of his league Oriya really is, and despite what he feels for Muraki, just how little he understands his 'friend'.
I believe that Muraki does have feelings for Oriya, but in an attempt to protect Oriya and perhaps himself, he continually pushes Oriya away. Ever heard of the phrase "need to be cruel to be kind?" Not to say that Muraki is a loving and caring person by any means - but he still is human, despite all his heinous actions. Muraki isn't stupid. He knows his path is a bloody one. When you love someone, you try to protect them, don't you? Once again twisted Muraki emotion. :)
Thanks once again to all who are still reading and following my story. I hope I haven't confused everyone to death. I know it is kinda moving slow, but I promise it will be picking up pretty soon. I have a tendency to focus on the characters emotions, rather than just plowing through the action. But yes there will be action! *yeay!*
Oh yeah, Kiiyue, Chymos and Hikaru are all original characters, created by me for my story. They are mine got it! And yes, I did say Hikaru. You didn't think I would have Muraki kill off a child and not have her matter would you? *evil laugh*