A/N: I am such a klutz! I wasn't paying attention at what I was typing that I accidentally deleted it… Okay, at least I get to start over this chapter and make it look better than what I have typed the last time… Oooh, the last chapter was terrible… I was in such a bad mood… Oh, I hope it didn't suck… What if you guys didn't like it?! What if you have left me to rot at the very bottom of ff.net's list?! NO!!!!
Breathe… Okay, I'm much better now… Anyway, I really do hope you haven't ditched my story yet… Sniff… I would be so sad I wouldn't be able to get into a good mood… Oh, Kami, I am such a failure…
Kori: No you're not.
Aki: Sniff… I'm not? *blinks innocently*
Hisoka: Bakazaru.
Aki: Don't call me a stupid monkey! I am not a monkey!
Hisoka: Ch.
Aki: Oh, you are so mean…
Ai: Ne, Aki-chan, I think it's because you cancelled the--- mmph!
Hisoka: Uruse!!
BOOM! (Ai flies off into the air as Hisoka kicks her.)
Ai: You're gonna pay for that one you empathic lemony you!
Aki: Ah, don't worry folks; Hisoka's just—er—not himself. Gomen. Well, here's chapter 14. Hope you like it.
Kori: Yare, yare… *looks back at Ai*
Aki: oh, and people, the 05.12.03 thing is as follows: date/time… day.month.year… military time.
Warning: As usual, insane me… And VagueHints™© are here and there! VH™© are very, very hard to find. Though normally, I try to make them as obvious as possible and as discreet as I can at the same time. That is all. Oh, and much angst. And more misery thrown in with some unexpected deaths, with lingering morbidity? I'll try to show you Muraki-sensei on action… And No, Kori-chan, not that kind of action, the other kind of action… ^_^ Gomen ne, minna-san… I cancelled lemons and limes… Sorry…
Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei. Sigh Assassin info is from Webster's World Encyclopedia 2002. Published by Webster Publishing, 2000. Copyright Webster Publishing, and/or contributors. Title: Tanjo, or birth, translated by my friend, the walking Jap-Eng Dictionary, Ayeka-san. (I thank her so much for tirelessly sending me the translations of the words through SMS… She is so kind…) Poem from my friend, Carlo, his source is from the Internet also: from the first time....(by lisa kathleen johnson)
Information for you dear readers… (And, no, it is not as useless as my information about the milk thing…) Assassin
Assassination is a word born in the context of a religious fanaticism of the most violent kind. Its root has nothing to do with murder, but is a linguistic corruption of the Arabic word for hashish.
In 1090 Hassan ibn al-Sabbah founded in Persia a sect of semi-military religious extremists. His teachings and practices combined features of the most varied traditions, principally selected from Islam. After a short sojourn in Egypt, he established himself and his order in a fortress on Mount Lebanon. There he trained a corps of supporters, numbering at times thousands of men, whom he sent out far and wide to make converts, if necessary by ruthless intimidation. Anyone who opposed his teachings faced death. His, indeed, was a rule by terror.
Al-Sabbah was concerned that his emissaries should not weaken or be overcome by pity but pursue their brutal task fearlessly and with unbounded zeal. For this reason he not only brainwashed them, before sending them on such missions, but drugged them with hashish. The ensuing experience of euphoria, he told them, equaled the joys of paradise sure to be theirs, should they be killed while carrying out their sacred task.
Many a Crusader fell victim to these drugged terrorist zealots. Soon they were identified with the very hallucinogen supplied to them. They became known as assassins, from the Arabic word for the drug, hashish.
The gang did not disband with Hassan's death in 1124, but carried on its nefarious work until the late thirteenth century. With the circumstances of its coining and the narcotic root of the name forgotten, the modern word remains the horrendous heirloom of religion gone astray in one of its most fanatic aberrationsTaken From: Webster's World Encyclopedia 2002. Published by Webster Publishing, 2000. Copyright Webster Publishing, and/or contributors.
Chapter 13: Tanjo
(Stage one: Act two: Dance of the Phantom)
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1
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05.12.03/23.00
Ever since he was a child, he dreamed of being a police officer. He loved the action, the excitement, and the risk that came with the job. He only disliked the paperwork (like everybody else) that he had to do after each case. He didn't mind that much, but his boss grills him to finish it or else he wouldn't get paid. Anyway, he was born and raised into a family of police officers; women and men alike in their family, in every generation became officers, or rather, some became experts on medicine, and some, entrepreneurs... Whichever they took, it always involved the police…He was the one who took on his father's pride and occupation. He had died a few weeks ago, in the same case he was handling now, his death was the one that drove him, as a son, to carry on the mission, no matter what it takes, though he knows he hadn't been over his grief just yet… and he had been most impatient about it because it wasn't moving. Literally. I mean, he was just there, undercover, trying to find the culprit, and Mr. Culprit was nowhere to be seen. And he rarely fails in a case. Actually he hasn't failed in any case. He was, after all, one of their best cops, and one of their brightest in their district, and he doesn't want to lower their prospects. His father was a very good cop, and he doesn't want his father's name to be stained by just some asshole that killed because he was told to. And he doesn't care whether he caught the man dead or alive. That was what they told him too.
Tokyo was a busy city where business runs and time flies so fast, that you would think that you have just come in, then you would just come out as quick in the office. He often felt that way. But now, time took on a standstill. In his current place, anyway, he could not believe that he was enduring this just for the sake of helping others. So he reverted to the other reason, to keep him going. He swore to his father's grave that he was going to catch that assassin, no matter what, and he would do it even by himself. As far as their information was, this assassin, always left a mark on its victim; but somehow, it often killed those dirty mafia and gangster people, especially the heads of each organization. He wasn't even sure whether he was on the good side, or the bad side. All he knows was that his father was killed, and he killed the good people also. This person killed even high school kids, and other innocent people. And he doesn't want innocent kids getting killed, and so he volunteered on going undercover as a high school student of the new victim, or rather, suspected victim, after all, he was only 21 and had one of the killer looks of a high school basketball player. Others often teased him of being undercover himself, pretending to be 21 when he was really 17.
And now, he examined the picture that contained the crest, a faint indentation on the skin. It was as small as a ring's circumference, with a scorpion in the middle of a ring of vines. He hasn't seen it before, and he was wondering what organization the perpetrator was in. He often thought of huge organizations with the heads laughing at the slow uptake of the police officers. But somehow, he was an exception. Information states, that every mark was exactly the same replica as the other, though it wasn't seen much on other victims, it was concealed by a very faint mark, like a burn that was not exactly a burn, a seal, a dry seal of the sort, that had the lightest imprint that you wouldn't think it was there at all. You would surely miss it if you don't look up close.
"Haneda," A voice behind him called in a tried way. She leaned on the doorframe, her hair slightly mussed. He guessed she had it wrung over her hands earlier; she often did that, whenever she was goaded.
"Yes?" He swirled his swivel chair around and faced the speaker, holding a test tube in his right Latex-gloved hand, with what seems like white-silver hair floating in some chemical in it.
"I would like to ask what has happened to the case." The speaker pushed her hair away from her face, which was tired and her eyes were watery, but her voice nevertheless lost its authority. You could tell she was in a higher-ranking officer.
"Oh, I was just looking for clues, but so far, the child hasn't been harmed. Though of course, I should be on another family's rooftop to look after him, I wanted to check on the evidence, and the mark on the latest victim's neck." He smiled at the stressed officer by the doorway; she seemed to grin as well. But the grin came and went as quick as a blink, and she strode in the room towards him.
"Who went to look after him?"
"John. And Ling." He said as he faced his worktable. He shook the tube, swirling the chemical and water in it in a circling motion, and he got what he wanted. His colleague was standing beside him, watching the tube also.
"Hmm," he said with a smile.
"What are you trying to find out?" She asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she leaned on the table.
"I am trying to find out if this lock of hair is real." He said, without bothering to explain. He was just looking at the hair thoughtfully, jotting down notes on a sheet of paper.
"What?" She blinked.
"I am trying to find out if this lock of hair is real or not, because the culprit might be using a wig or it had dyed it's hair which could further confuse us with other persons, or even dead people." He said, placing the tube in a rack.
"Why couldn't you just take the DNA samples?" She asked.
"One, it would take a long time to do that, two, it is clear that this wasn't pulled by the victim, it was cut by the victim, Or it could even be done by the killer himself."
"Why would the killer cut his own hair?"
"Imagine me pulling on your hair, you have to escape because you might get caught, and you have a blade in your hands."
"Oh. I see."
"Could you be so kind as to hand me the Bunsen burner over there?"
"Yeah. Here." She handed he burner to him. "What're you gonna do? Burn the whole office down?" She chuckled a little on her joke, which she obviously meant seriously. "It could take a few renovating here and there."
"I am just going to heat the tube a little to make the chemical work."
"Aha," he said at last after a few seconds."
"What?" She asked, peering at the tube.
"We've got an albino in our midst."
She looked at him; he was smiling. She got the message and grinned as well. She quickly left and headed for her office.
"Oh, and Era," He called out before the woman reached the outside.
"What?"
"Please check out his cousin also. I'll be there in the morning."
"You're always a step beyond me, Miko."
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2
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He smiled.
He smiled because everything was going out well as planned. He chewed on the tobacco and looked outside the window. He finally crossed the room and headed for the balcony, watching the horizon, thinking of the day he found out about her. He smiled wider as the memories of her childhood came back to him. Sure, he was cruel, but just to train her, and to keep her from using her skills the wrong way… And not use it against him.
His father, Senior Kasunagi, was a child born by two civilizations mixed together. His father was of course, Japanese, and his mother was French-American. So, more likely, they bore two sons, who were like them… but somehow, the last and third one was the same yet different. They loved them equally, well, at least their mother did, but their father had liked his brother better, the younger one, and even the one that followed him.
His brother was a well-off person. Their father very well liked him. He was of course, jealous, just like any brother would be. But when their father died, he was given almost half of the family's wealth. Their mother died, happy to see him with his wife, and son. He had grown up to dislike his brother, but when he realized a fact, a truth, he saw a new hope, a new life. It was very unfortunate of him to die, at such a young age.
At the birth of Kasunagi Hajime's daughter, he knew what was going to happen. But then, Hajime died. He had been happy, a little, and he also felt sorry. They were found by their youngest brother, Circe, when the accident, or murder happened; how he had gotten there, he doesn't know. Circe was a very unusual boy ever since, and until now, the man held secrets underneath that intricate mind. He was a mass of complexes, and he prided on it. Circe wasn't even a real child. Adopted. Their mother had called him Circe, and they had, eventually, but their father gave him another name, their father's name. Often, he would call him Circe, but he usually called him by the name he gave him; he doesn't know why his father even bothers since everyone in the family had taken on the name Circe. Kasuka never was told of things much, after all. He was rather kept to himself. And as he chewed on his cigar more, intently gazing as he leaned on the balcony's railing, he wondered. Sure, his brother was his 'partner' on this business they were running. But the man had taken on the responsibility of taking care of their niece, the one Hajime abandoned. He doesn't bother with the nephew, he thinks of him dead; after all, the kid has cancer.
Their niece grew up to be fine, and he trained her very well; martial arts masters, musical instruments taught to her, and she was an actress. A fine one indeed, but she rather much played in theaters than the movies. She disliked fame. After all, they had told her that their father was killed because of fame. She didn't believe it much though. She dances fine; she sings well, she has a brilliant mind. But her mind was much more than being able to understand Einstein's E=mc theory of relativity. She held something that could destroy; her knowledge was too vast. And he feared.
Ever since she was born, he had feared her. And now, he fears her more.
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3
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07.12.03/10.58
It has been a day or two, and he was rather not feeling himself.
You might call it a sickness, an illness, a very disheartened state. This was almost the same as the last time, the one back in that psycho's lab, and he was really out of focus. He occasionally lost track of things, well, at maybe for that day, after the revelation he shared with himself last night; and it was getting worse. Everyone in the office noticed, and they avoided the questions that might get him lower than what he was in.
from the first time....
(by lisa kathleen johnson)
from the first time i saw you, i was afraid to talk to you,
From the first time he ever saw him, he had this feeling of hope bubbling in him ever since… And, well, since he was the one who took him out of that trance years back, he was afraid, really, to lose him… And because of a stupid promise, he was now held back from killing himself. It was just unfair, he thought, he wanted to die again, totally diminished from this world, or whatever, and just end everything.
from the first time i talked to you, i was afraid to hug you
And as he stared at the blue sky, an empty heart throbbed in pain, regret, and… nothing else. Just those two emotions swallowing him and drowning him in his misery, he sat, as if it had been years from creation, as if he was the one who was examining what he has done… He sat away from the crowd, away from the inquisitive stares and the worried looks on the faces of whom he called friends. I would've done the same; yet, I have never been away from the people around me… And like me, he wanted to scream. He wanted to scream his agony, let out the pain in his heart, and let his misery dissolve little by little with the sound of his scream into the air. But he couldn't. And so, it grew and it grew, until he was just staring off, in a trance-like spell, an immobile person who had lost all its ability to feel anything, to realize anything… He was dense, yes, but he had emotions still, though we know that it is also his fault, and Hisoka has a share in it… (If he hadn't put up those stupid, stupid ofudas, would he be sulking like Tsuzuki down in Chijou too?) But, as if the world hated him so much, he was reminded of the memory of a few days back…
from the first time i hugged you, i was afraid to kiss you
"I hate you…" He repeated under his breath, pondering on the suddenly foreign words… After a while of repeating those words in your head, just like how we do to our own words, it suddenly goes wobbly, kind of unfamiliar all of a sudden, and we ponder on how it was made, where it was derived, from which did it come from… And he was like a very, very weird kid, more like a doll; eyes glazed, lips slightly moving, whispering to the non-existent person…
from the first time i kissed you,i was afraid to love you,
"I… Hate… you? I… Love… you…" He whispered. And he cocked his head to the side, looking still on to the distance, as if he had seen something so tantalizingly incredible, that he couldn't take his eyes off of it. It is hard for me to explain his current state, for it was a very strange sight, and seeing him like that, just makes you stand in awe and wonder. How on earth did he become like that?!
AND now that i love you, i'm afraid i'll lose you
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08.12.03/11.35
Two days of failures. Two days had passed, incomplete rest had showered him with stress over the weekend with his new partner, a coffee mug with its special weapon: Caffeine. Black. No sugar, no nothing, just as so he could find anything related with the case.
His scream filled the air. And it was Monday. First day of the week and he was screaming like a madman. His temper was out. Luckily for him, he had been able to control himself. I had just started to believe that he followed his 'motto' seriously… Though it wasn't really, it was just one of his 'beliefs'; a well-mannered person, never loses his poise. Yeah right. Who says a person can't snap and scream out? He said so. He thinks that you can still control yourself… Until you have had enough. And, well, the fact of the matter of all this rambling is that, he had just snapped, and lost his poise. In front of the ladies… And the gentlemen… To make it really short almost the whole school.
He was so mad at everything else. It was a side effect. For some people, for example, couples, or really close friends, when you're far away, you would now if the person is alright, or not. Sometimes, there is this connection that links you to one another… Like emotions; you needn't be empathic just to feel one another… And sometimes, you feel, or act out what the other is feeling, or you get the opposite effect. Like what he was doing now. Unlucky for him, he was an empath and the Trigonometry quiz he just had made him cranky. Crankier than he had been that morning... And he had been using Tsuzuki's pen, which further reminded him later on, on how miserable he was, and how it was really getting worse; and now the pen resides still in his hand. Of course, he wasn't aware of that, since it was like his property now, since he was very fond of sign pens and Parker ones for that matter. He had harboured it from Tsuzuki without the older man knowing… And would or could Tsuzuki refuse? And since they're not even talking to each other, he couldn't give it back.
He screamed as loud as he can in agitation. The whole school heard, after all, he was on top of the school's roof. And he was trying to figure out the case. And he had just noticed something about the video from the first day they started… There was one person killing the butler (poor man… He had a dream… he wanted to be an actor…), and as he zoomed it closer, to see if there had been anything left out, there it was, a shadow by the stair, a very small one, and it was… Approximately, as small as an average school kid. But that couldn't be right, could it? And he couldn't get a hold of Tatsumi again! He had deliberately cut off his phone or something… Was it punishment for not finding out anything up to now? He scrunched up his air in his hands and frowned. He had crawled underneath the shade of the shed of the doorway, reading the files, clicking on the laptop, (which he had picked up while he teleported from the lavatory to the dorm rooms) and grumbled.
"Why the hell does this have to happen to me?!" He shouted, but not as loud as before. His previous scream was a non-verbal one, but the sound and intensity of it was enough to make you squirm, especially with one of his death glares…
"Ne, Kurosaki-san…" Somebody piped from behind him. He nearly jumped out of his skin, but he had regained his poise as soon as he saw who it was. At least, he thought, he's not as stuck up as Rei… It was the boy whom he had to look after, or rather, a decoy they assume, and he worked really hard… just to watch over him, trying to solve something that was really lacking the right amount of evidence, and… he also disliked the fact that the boy had just gotten into that school, a transfer, and now, he was going to get killed; it was too much hassle, but its better if he does look after Takenori Miko rather than Yokohama Reiji. The brat doesn't know what to do with his life, while Miko-san, is very humble.
He was peering at Hisoka, who immediately shut the laptop, and had closed the folder in a swift move. It had a profile about Rei, and he was afraid of what Takenori might think… Especially since there is yaoi everywhere… And even yuri…
"I hope I didn't startle you," he said as he sat down beside Hisoka. The snow was falling lightly on the ground, but the sun was still shining. He wondered how long Takenori had been behind him.
"No, not at all…" Hisoka said. He rubbed his hands together, making them warmer, and wished that he had taken the damn mittens from the closet while he took the laptop.
"What're you doing up here?" he looked at Hisoka, curiously cocking his head to get a better view of the shinigami.
"I was just trying to do things… Quietly, and… I just wanted to be alone."
"Oh… 'Quietly' huh? So why'd you scream the whole roof down?" he chuckled.
"I couldn't get it done… I told you I tried, but I failed…" Hisoka said. He started to gather his things, and he wanted to get up from the freezing floor, to get away from civilization first… Or just plainly go back to Meifu. JuuOhCho was better than attending the whole day's classes.
"You're going?" He frowned at Hisoka; light brown locks brushing his eyes while he lifted his head too look at him.
"Yes… Oh no!" He said, as the paper's contents began spilling… He had snatched a piece of paper form he ground, containing all Reiji's vital stats and info quickly, in fear of being caught as a shinigami. The others are okay since those were blank, and Takenori picked them up, helping Hisoka out. Then Hisoka had an idea. He let his shields down a little, feeling the familiar wave emotions sometimes made him feel, and he started to see how Takenori is…
Curiosity…Curiosity…Doubt…Want… Wait a minute?! Want?! What does want have to do with this?! Hisoka felt more…
Eagerness…Determination…Anger…Doubt…"Um, thank you, but I really have to go…" Hisoka said, and he left in haste.
"Okay…"
Takenori Miko bent down as his eye caught sight of something small, soft, and fluffy.
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She was very unlucky. Yes, she was. And she was not feeling good. One, her colleague had just found out something, and now, she was in front of the computer, tap-tapping away; it had been a day, and she was getting tired. No, she was tired. And her eyes ached. Her back ached, she had a migraine, and she tried to dissolve the stress with a nice cup of coffee. Two, unfortunately for her, they were out of beans, settling her self with instant coffee. Three, the lack of machines was irritating, there were no DNA scanners, and there wasn't even a decent computer in their division! Lastly, she was very goaded. She scrunched her hair again, facing the (damn) computer. She paused as she checked out the gorgeous beauty despite the very pale complexion; she was searching for albinos, not sure whether it would be of some help; the Internet was a miracle, for a very slow case. Finding persons instantly, was something she liked, but on this case, she was losing her temper.
"Come on, come on…" Yep, she was a very unlucky woman on that day. The server was slow. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay sloooooooooooow. "Oh man, I wish I could just have some decent evidence and some decent machines… All we have are stupid, useless, junk…" She muttered.
"Matsumada, Matsumoto… Nagase… Suzuki…there isn't much!" She grumbled.
Ring… Ring… Ring… She picked up the phone.
"Yes?" She snapped at the disturbance.
"Hey, how's it going?" the familiar voice said.
"Miko! I told you don't call during class hours!"
"Cool down, Era… Its lunch,"
"What?! Already?!" She glanced at her watch.
"Remember the little bear in the bushes?" The voice said, not minding Era's grumbling.
"No."
"The one next to the dead body of one victim, in the bushes, the one I found at that time, and when we came back, it was gone?"
"What? You mean the one with the little heart?"
"Yes."
"What about it?"
"I found it."
"What? Are you sure?"
"Yep. And it think I know who the culprit is."
"You do?! Well, that's great! Come on down here, and let's see if there is something up with that bear."
"Okay. See ya. I need to check him out first."
"Who the bear?" She giggled.
"No! The suspect!"
"I was just kidding. Sheesh…"
"Right. See ya." Click.
Era smiled at herself. Now, this is going to be interesting. New heavy clues meant bigger fish.
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Kurosaki Hisoka trudged to his bedroom that afternoon, all weary. That afternoon was definitely going into a very wrong turn. It perplexed him when he didn't see Kori that day, and even Claire… And he had lost the bear… Which could've been the next clue on which the person they were looking for is… And now, even Lena's girlfriends were asking him if he had seen her anywhere.
He settled his things on the floor. Wednesday was exhausting, and he was glad to know that there were only two more days left for the week, then Semester break was in their hands. He sighed. When Takenori met him on the roof earlier, his heart leapt with panic; he was afraid to be revealed.
He had looked up something in the files… One police officer had written down, on one case, the most previous one, that there was a 'bear' near the victim's body in the bushes. This officer, Haneda Miko, said that after a while, when they looked back, it was gone. They described the bear as small, with a bear. It pretty much fitted the key chain's features. He took out his bag to look for it; it was gone. He checked his pockets, his jacket… It was gone.
Oh well.
He climbed on the bed, exhausted, not minding that he still was clad in his uniform and collapsed. He fell asleep almost instantly…
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4
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Would it be a big difference? He thought to himself. To lock her up without the serum, or just plainly hit her on the head to forget, then lock her up? But my, my, she still had to put up a fight… he felt the bruise on his arm.
The sun was sinking slowly to the west; he was in a very good mood despite the situation he was in. The girl was very obedient; that or it was just the authority his dagger beamed out underneath all the gloom that downed on her when she suddenly walked in on him doing something very important. What was he doing? He was doing his act; practicing… She had stood there earlier, in her little doorway, and she slammed the door shut first when he tried to approach her. She just needs to cooperate more. He was kind, wasn't he? He was very easy to talk to, isn't he? If you followed what he wanted, it would be easy, but going against his conditions makes him… Pissed. If there were any words better for the sentence that would perfectly match his feeling at the time, I could've made it better, but truth be told, he was just pissed. Unbelievably. He usually held his charm and his morbidity until the last minute… He was a very cunning man, he had always believed in that. But hey, who was he to complain? He was going to get paid after all, and besides, he was in debt. And so he served the one he was in debt with, with all expertise regarding his work. He was a saviour after all, and he saved their act; their play. The 'they' were his very good friends running the whole business. Very nice of him to help out, isn't it?
He strode towards the balcony, where a figure stood. A few days back, he was called into their presence, to their mission to carry out the play… And when he had picked up the information from his friend's crewmember, he saw his doll. Well, at least he thought it was his doll. He needed to leave right away after all, so he didn't see him that much, staring from the window from one of the classrooms.
"She is very stingy." His friend had commented, lifting a cigarette to his pale lips.
"Yes, I know. She had put on a struggle. But is so easy to deceive; when she wakes up, I'll give her the serum again." He replied as he faced his friend's backside.
"Muraki-san,"
"Please, Circe, just Muraki."
"Very well then, Muraki, I would like to thank you… This had been going out well. We would be expecting Danné's arrival, and it had been hard to work since we need her to act out for the girl…"
"When would be her arrival?" He asked as he looked at the sun sinking.
"Tomorrow at the very least."
"She is a beautiful child; do take care of her, I advice you, she is a key to unlock your problems." Muraki said.
Circe, as he was addressed, looked down on the grounds. It wasn't his home, it wasn't his manor, but it pretty much feels like his very own, when he was a child. And he replied rather solemnly, "Yes, I know…"
"As much as I have been endeared to the child, I fear of losing my temper also, but I do care for her… I shall do everything to offer you my services, as much as what she has done for me…" Muraki whispered.
"Thank you."
"Now, shall we get on with the matter? You must explain now, when the play is due, and I will do my best to heal some of the mistakes…" Muraki said with a very nasty grin. "Shall we look at her now? She must be very sick now…" He said, referring to the girl in her room.
"Yes, very well." Circe butted the cylinder between his lips on the ashtray near them, making sure that he wiped it clean afterwards and letting the ashes fly of from the balcony.
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5
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Oblivious to the world, it seems, Watari Yutaka crept up behind an unsuspecting Tsuzuki, but he stopped dead on his tracks. What he saw made his heart drop to the pits of hell. Metaphorically speaking. But it did make him… let me see… to put it simply, he was very sad to see his friend in that state. He knew Tsuzuki well enough to know that he was depressed. Almost like the state he was in back then in Muraki's lab, when he almost wanted to let his own Shikigami swallow him in its flames. But then, bon was around, and had saved him for his won good, and his own benefit also. They were like two sides of a yin yang… While the other was black, the other was white, but still held darkness and light. Catch my drift? Tsuzuki was the white side, concealing the small ball of darkness underneath all those fake smiles and fake laughter. While Hisoka, being dark hid his soft side underneath his own mask of seriousness and 'maturity'. But all of them loved both just the same. Watari loves both shinigami, and was desperate to know what had happened the past days, to ask Tsuzuki why he was in that condition… And of course to help them also, he did kind of made things a bit more complicated. Okay, a lot more complicated. But it was Tsuzuki's and Hisoka's fault also; Tsuzuki for being dense, Hisoka for being 'cold', but you couldn't really blame them, could you?
Bon was a very complex person, perplexing even to Watari, for he could never figure out how bon reacts to things… But at least, he knows some things for sure: Hisoka was very fragile. He couldn't put it in any other way. He really was fragile underneath all the Big-Boy-Act. He was hard to cope up with, and he knows Tsuzuki had been doing his best, and fortunately, and amazingly, Hisoka improved…Little by little did it. After all those years, Tsuzuki had finally cracked the ghost out of its shell… And after years of his hard work, Tsuzuki had ruined it in just one night too. Which was kind of stupid. No, it was stupid; and Watari wanted to help as much as he can, even if it meant that he had to go down there and explain to Hisoka, but he was surely to get a slap or something. But if he explained, it might just get worse. So he decided then and there that Tsuzuki should explain it himself. But on second thought, would anyone be able to explain to Tsuzuki when he was in that state?
He sighed as he approached Tsuzuki's unmoving body. Watari knelt down, and Tsuzuki didn't even glance at him. He doubted if Tsuzuki had lost it or Tsuzuki was just plainly dense, that he didn't even feel the air Watari's coat had made when he crouched down. Until…
"Ne, Watari-san… Do you hate me?" he asked, unblinking, and still staring into the distance.
"What---of course not! Why would you say that?" Watari asked gently.
"I… Don't…know…Hisoka does, doesn't he…?" He asked the scientist.
"No…" Watari sighed. He remembered Tsuzuki's exact words last Friday, and it made him feel a lot sadder and desperate to make them get together. Tsuzuki went silent. He remembered yesterday clearly.
Tsuzuki had appeared suddenly as Tatsumi put down the phone. After a few minutes, when Tatsumi was explaining something back at the staff table while he stood up to get some coffee, Tsuzuki had asked Tatsumi if he could just get another partner.
"Tatsumi-san, can I please have another partner?" he had asked pleadingly, he looked sad… Watari was just as shocked as Tatsumi and dropped the mugs he was holding.
"Tsuzuki explain." Tatsumi's words were short, precise, and he beckoned the amethyst-eyed Shinigami out of the doors, all depressed.
"But…why is he saying these words to me…?" Tsuzuki asked after a while. He turned to Watari with blank eyes, and a very pallid face; must be because of the events…
"Tsuzuki…" he started, not sure what to say. "I… You better talk to him…"
"He doesn't want to… Watari, I don't know what to do!" And at that, he broke down, grabbing the lapels of Watari's coat and drowning himself under the clothing's fabric, pouring his emotions down with the tears, letting out the pain…
Watari had just started to comfort him, when Terazuma came out, rushing to him like a madman.
"Watari! Quick!"
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A/N: Ah, 25 pages… That was so tiring… Anyway, I am so sorry, really… In a few more weeks, I'll be going to the U.S. and I won't be able to update for a very long time, but I am thankful for your reviews. Hope you review again… I might just be able to use the Internet there…
Ella-chan: Don't answer the last question… (#6) I know you're reading my fic, and you're a Filipino. But I also know (unfortunately) that you like my other YnM story, the crossover with Gravi waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more than this one, but I beg you, SEND ME AN SMS OR ELSE YOU"RE GOING TO BE KILLED! NOT BY AN ASSASSIN ANYMORE, BUT ME!!! There. Thank you. Oh, and, Chapter one is posted now… Please read 'Till death tear us apart' thank you for your time.
But before I go:
Questions from the insane mind of Aki Konoe:
1.Would there be a sequel to this story? Or would you like a sequel? (but actually, the Gravi-Yami crossover I'm writing is sort of related to this story… You can call it a sequel…)
2.Who have guessed whom the assassin is??
3.Who wants to know more about Ai's brother?
4.Who wants Muraki to be doing the killing? I'll be going for the majority here…
5.Do you guys want more angst between the two (Hi-chan and Tsuzuki) or fluff? Majority is what I'm after…
6.Who lives in the Philippines or is a Filipino reading my story? (Just asking, 'coz I am a Filipino, and would love it if you guys just send me an SMS once in a while… *Sniff* Woe to me…!)
A/N: Anyway, thanks a lot! See ya!
Ji de wo ai ni…
---Aki Konoe---
Yaoi clan member of the SPC's Yaoi-sts