How hard could it be?
Author: Aki Konoe/darkness1315/devil-angel-asuka
rika: ah... looks up nervously as Aki backs off from the knife- wielding rika rika-san, I am so sorry... gulps please, please, I am too young to be a Shinigami!!! Don't kill me!!! NO!!!
Kanberry: Oh... wipes away tears of joy from her big round eyes Thank you so much! It's always good to hear people liking my story! Reviews given by endeared reviewers makes us so inspired and desperate to write more... Oh, yeah, I like your name! It sounds so sweet! (That... or its just my craving shedding again... I need sweets...drools hungrily) anyway, I'll be sending you my story, (my other one, my Yami-Gravi crossover, since I have too many editors for this one story) and you could help me with my other under construction Yami fic titled Never make out in front of children... Sorta like that... anyway, thanks again!
Master of Buttons: I know, I know, you changed your name, but I like calling you Master of Buttons... Its kinda cute for me... I like it! So don't you try to berate me or correct me, you hear?! cough anyway, as always, I would like to thank you so much for being there reviewing tirelessly and of course, for agreeing to be my beta... You see, my next chapter is supposed to be the climax... I'm so irritated since I don't know how to end it! I wish I have internet here at home so I could email you any time to ask for help... sigh Oh well, anyway, fellow Claustrophobic, I'll look for those lemons! puts on a miner's hard-hat and flips the flashlight switch on Wait for my other fic! I want to make you laugh once in a while... One shot, but very much Shounen-ai-ish... or Yaoi-ish... whatever... Domo Arigato again for reviewing!
azdriel: a new reader!! Yey!! azdriel-san, thankies! I love-y your review-y! (Excuse my mannerisms... I love putting -ishes and -ies...) You're a huge help, really! hugs azdriel You're a dear! aki rambles on, ignoring the fact that azdriel is turning purple Not just to my writing career but also to my drawing career... technically... You see I was looking for names for my manga... So, again, thanks! I am so sorry for not giving Kori-chan's piccie right away. I left all my files in the Philippines, and I'm here in the United Sates of America with nothing but an old Toshiba laptop of my aunt, no Internet connection, and no anime channel in the telly. Tough luck... anyway, thanks again!
anomis: You're a new reader too?! great! I'll contact my editors when I get a hang on my files... and I'll beg them to help me with my angst- problem... Don't worry, their grief will end... sooner or later... (I hope...)
Angela Wong: Thank you so much! I'll send you my other Yami fic's chapter, the crossover one...No, not that... my other fic... will you edit my Ayashi no Ceres fic? Please? Oh, and maybe I'll let you in a little secret about the couple/s... So, thanks again!
Shu-chan: I know you didn't review here... (Only neji-kun did) And I must say, you have disappointed me... sniff I cry. cries Bad, bad shu- chan! sniff hiccups sniff Oh, I tried calling you, and this person answered the phone, so I said, "Hello, may I speak to Silvia please?" And then she started talking in German or something, and then, she hung up on me, and then... I stared dumbstruck at my cellular phone, wondering what the hell happened, and why am I so tongue-tied, and then when it sank in, I thought... "Oh God, help me... That was so stupid..." really, I'm scared calling now since I think she's mad or something... You gotta call me, okay? Or else, I really won't email you anymore! Oh, and, of course, because I felt like a bloody prat, I blame it on you for not answering the phone! I'll email you my number okay?
ManderNaner: Oi Manda, you have got to help me! (Have you seen Shrek 2 yet?) Puts on Puss in Boots' adorably-irresistible-cat eyes (I need you to help me out with my plot, you could be one of my Plotmistresses! Sorry kyo-kun, I borrowed your concept...) Check out my site okay? You could leave your message there... I guess, since I can't check me email much... (I hate firewalls! I need to contact Neko-chan 'cause she's our resident hacker so I can override it...)You should see Kashino Rei's pic, he is so hot! You could have it!
Inami-chan: have you finished it yet? sorry to ask you like this, but I really need you to help me out! Please, okay?!
the Invisible Fan: hah! dies the invisible fan says my fic is good! I'm so good, am I not?
Kori: dream on, yaoi-obsessed-girl-whose-dreams-contain-explicit- content who doesn't even have a social life and a love-life. Chuckles evilly
Aki: I do not have dreams like that! You have wet dreams you know that! I do not... blush okay... so maybe once, but that's it! And I do so have a social life... whispers before my Grandparents became my mum being so overprotective that I can't even go out of the apartment to the neighbour's apartment and play Tekken 3 on the 6 and 7 year old brothers' PS1... That's how I became obsessed with the Internet and okay, I'll cut them some slack... that's just my current state right now... but I was already obsessed with writing since I discovered this site... sigh
Hisoka: Leave it to the insane fanfiction authors to make our lives a living hell. sigh glances at Kori Don't you think so, Kori-san?
Kori: nods in agreement You're right.
Aki: grumbles Ungrateful OCs... okay, 'Soka-chan... that means you don't want to know what happened to my dream about you and Tsuzuki having... a ... let's say... a rather erotic time in the...uhm.. where was that again? Why don't I write it down to make it happen? Oops, I forgot, I'm irritated that you guys aren't being so nice as I want you to be! sigh fake mourning woe to me!
Hisoka: What?! What is it?! Will---hey, wait a minute! Omae wa kurosou! brandishes a katana that appeared in mid-air What do you mean by that?!
Aki: Kyaaaaaa! help me!!! runs I was just kidding!
okay, invisible fan, thanks a lot, but I've got to go and escape 'Soka-chan's wrath!!!! Oh, want a Tsu x Soka picture? I could give you one!
Hisoka: Stop giving me away! swings the katana above her head
Aki: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!
Kuonkii/neji-kun: don't even try to tell me that I can't call you neji-kun anymore in my fic and review reply. Or else I'm not going to email you anymore. glare And yes, it's a threat. Okay, neji-kun, my ever-so- loveable email-mate, you bloody prat, (kidding) thank you but I need you to give me the area code there so I could call you guys better since I think maybe, just maybe, I dialled the wrong number that I must've imagined that all you people there speak only one language and that I was schizophrenic... (which I'm not) okay? I do not want to hear, (ironically) an "I don't know, aki-chan..." Okay? Have a nice day.
How hard could it be?
Chapter 14: Blurry Eyes
Death
It is not death, that sometime in a sigh
This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight;
In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night;
That this warm conscious flesh shall perish quite,
And all life's ruddy springs forget to flow;
That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal sprite
Be lapp'd in alien clay and laid below;
It is not death to know this-but to know
That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves
In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go
So duly and so oft-and when grass waves
Over the pass'd-away, there may be then
No resurrection in the minds of men.
Thomas HoodChapter 14: Blurry Eyes
1
09.12.03/13:30 (Two days earlier)Nervously he trudged his way through the halls, which reminded him vividly of things he had done in the past. Where a familiar face always cheerful, smiling, although despondent f the things he does. He, who was his pilgrimage, neither disapproves nor approves of his actions; he just waits in the shadow of his footsteps, ready to strike the moment he was needed. He, who was his companion, was a mere shadow of his, who was always there, open arms and open smile, always welcoming him. He owes him a lot, he knows that, but at least, little by little, he had been able to return the 'kindness' shown and given to him...
Glancing at the clock nearby, on the shelf at the upper-left corner of the wall opposite his right side of the body, in the dimly lit hall, feeling the dark red carpet of fine fur underneath his feet, he edged closer to it, to see what time of the day it was, since all the shutters were, of course, shut. He regrets the fact that he left his tool for vision, and wishes to go back in the bedroom where he once lay.
1:30 p.m., the clock ticked on; the second hand slowly beginning to shift in its place.
Grasping both his wrists, he trudges on, feeling the pain increasing in his veins as the dark red marks on his clothes began to dry, his stench beginning to be familiar to his senses. Ah, the sweet smell of blood. Yet he was confused as to why he was the one bleeding, and not his victim. His veins torn, he scrambles now, desperately trying to find something to stop the bleeding, for he might stain the carpeting,. But who would notice it, but him? After all, the carpet was the colour of blood. And after all, did anyone care of him?
Stumbling now, he stopped, his body resting on the floor, his breathing going very slow, and he tried to move his head as he fixed his blurry gaze at the end of the tunnel. He reached a bloody hand and gasped for one last breath, as he finally let go of his consciousness.
And at that, everything faded.11.12.03/10:30Yesterday was a huge mess. He went out for a while, and before he left he had knocked on his sensei's shoji, asking him if he would like to come, or at least, escort him out of the KuKaKurou for a walk since he seemed to need a breath of fresh air once in a while. He was given the answer concerning the softness of a pillow and sickness. He was sure the sensei was fine then. If he only knew that this would happen, he wouldn't have left. He was in a frenzy, up to that day, and, well, he was stressed. Overly stressed. It was for a fact that he really cared for the sensei, and yet, he was there, giving him a heart attack, and the first thing he ever did when he regained a bit of his senses was greet him "Hello..." and it was delivered very casually indeed, that he had to restrain himself from strangling him. Was he planning to give everyone a scare and send them straight to the ER?! What the hell was wrong with him?! It wasn't his brain... (or was it...?) anyway, he didn't normally hurt himself, nor did he normally say hello very casually to him... Okay, so maybe once,... and it made him tingle all over... but this time was really serious and it was freaking him out already. Has his best friend lost it, or what? Okay, so maybe he had lost it earlier in his life, but the time back then and the time back now was different. Times change, people change, and definitely situations change... And this time, it was so insane already that it was not to be taken with humour anymore! His sensei would be the cause of his death someday. Sooner or later, he would be lying in his coffin... And his girls would be crying, and well... he wasn't sure if sensei was going to cry... yeah right. The man doesn't have emotions. Nor was he sure that the man even knew how to cry. Or what a tear is. Technically, he would know what tears are, and he might even give a definition of what tears are: liquid secreted from the tear ducts when emotionally moved or upset.
Here he was desperately trying to get his attention, whistling. Raising his voice a little louder that usual (if he screamed, he might get killed) coughing irritatingly (just like how that bloody prick who calls herself the High Inquisitor named Dolores Umbridge), and trying to squeeze a baby chick in his hand just to get it squealing. Of course, it irked him, but he was desperate... (slicing up the 16-year-old Shinigami was no problem... crushing the chick was disgusting...) Well, mission impossible. This was hard. No, it was difficult. No, that's almost the same thing... it was... it was...
"The snow is beautiful, ne?"
He blinked. Did he just... ask a question?
Silence welcomed the question as would a target would welcome a gun's bullet. He eyed the man in front of him, a rabbit wary of an intruder in its field. He licked his lips nervously as he rummaged through his battered brain for words to say. He decided not to answer, and waited a long minute which seemed to stretch for hours into oblivion, where time did not exist and where time did not matter. Everything stilled. He awaited, in bated breath, as the next sentences caught him off-guard; he sounded like a 5- year old child whose intelligence surpasses the most intelligent kid in the neighbourhood, as if seeing snow for the first time in his life and marvelling at the sudden wonder that dropped from the sky. The words pelted the silence between them like bullets shattering its construct.
"It is a blanket of white clouds that covers the dull colour of the ground... Isn't it beautiful?"
He found his voice and finally said, "Um... Yes. It is. Are you feeling okay?"
"I feel tired."
"Would you like anything?" He eagerly inched his way towards his best friend, slowly rising up from his seat on the floor, and he had almost reached a hand when his friend fixed him silvery-white eyes at him. He stopped in his tracks to stare at those eyes... Wearisome were those eyes that he had to look away... The usual glow was gone and it was replaced by the look of a very old man waiting for his life to end, his December...
"No. Leave me be."
"But---"
"Please, Oriya-kun... You have done enough. Thank you... But please, I ask you one thing, leave me be... Please..."
He closed his mouth shut, and looked down at his feet. He finally let out a sigh and turned to leave the room. He heard him mumbling, "... my doll... grown so big... gone so beautiful...".
Before he went out though, he halted and addressed these words to him:
"Whatever happens, they would never be able to touch you."2
He was lying on his back that morning, still not wanting to get up, and he still didn't want to do anything... Until he heard a soft knock asking him to escort his parents out of the house; he didn't like the glow of the sun that much, and he preferred the softness of the pillow and for the love of God, couldn't they let him sleep? The intruder of his dreams suggested he needed to walk. He reasoned he was sick and didn't feel like going. He felt like he was sick anyway, and dreamily, he dozed. After a while, he finally got up and settled himself on the window sill. He watched his parents leave that day. Was he happy? Perhaps he was. He climbed down the stairs later on, and found a pair of eyes similar to his, with a smile plastered all over the face that mirrored his; a sneer that sent those chills down his spine, even up to this day.
There were so many times he thought of his brother as a nice person, but those images he had created to believe in was always proved to be just what they truly are... Illusions, hallucinations... All of those were counterfeits of what he had conjured in his mind... And he was desperate to know why.
Days passed, he came to live with them, and he watched in awe, how similar they were, even though they were not born from the same womb. He was quiet, never talked about his brother, an he wondered, if they could ever be close. He felt a strong barrier between them when he saw the real colour underneath that sallow skin of his. He wondered how much was done to his brother that made him such a terrible soul, miserable and seeming alone... seething with ominous rage and a perplexing personality added atop to everything. He even wondered if it was because of him, Kazutaka. Was it? Or was it not?
A few more days passed, months, perhaps, and when he saw that his parents were shot, bleeding, he drastically looked for help. But when he turned around, there was no one... And soon, he let go of his thoughts and locked his mind for a while. After the incident, his parents were buried, and that was when he saw the true light in his brother's eyes. What it truly contains, but he couldn't quite understand it... His brother was smiling... Sneering actually, and was very happy indeed. Kazutaka never did understand him...
And now, there he was, on the floor, desperately trying to ask his brother the question on which the most genius of minds once stumbled on for sure. The question with which there was no specific answer, a question on which the psychologists ask the ones sentenced to death.
"Why?!"
He just laughed, and laughed, and laughed... And he wanted to kill him.
BANG!
One shot was enough, his brother was dead; on the ground he fell, lifeless body and cold eyes still glowing. He saw the butler, holding the gun, looking at him, worried, and he sought refuge. After that his journey began...
09.12.03/13:00
Facing the mirror he silently whispers to himself what could've happened, if he had him in his arms... If only he could have taken him long before... Why have they not met? Why have he not been able to know the answers to his questions... Why was he supposed to be the one to suffer greatly after a huge mistake? Was it all because of him? Why?!
Why? why? Why? Why? WHY?!?
"Why...?" He kept on saying, trying to grasp every theory he could think of, but it was just too much. Why, why,Why?! Why does it have to be so hard? Why does it have to be like this? Why did he have to kill? Why did he have to look for something he could not look for? Why couldn't he just leave this thing alone... But it seems that everything was about him... And everything was supposed to be connected, and everything would have to be the same the next day, asking himself the question that had been haunting him for years, and years. For eternity, it seems, he had been suffering because of that question unanswered...
These were one of those times when he thought of the things he had done. He was not repenting. All he wanted was to ask his brother that question. All he wanted was for once, kill his brother with his own hands... Revenge, as you might call it, but it will fulfil him so much, he might change all of a sudden, but since he failed, FAILED, FaIlEd... fAilEd... FAiLED... he could not undo the mistake, MISTAKE, MiStAkE... MisTAke... he had done... And everything else... Why? Why? WHY?! WHy? WhY?
WHY???!
Haunted by his memories, he looked at his arms... Oh how poor was that soul underneath that red blood moon was... Unfortunate to have stumbled upon what he was doing that night, and so the soul became a part of his revenge, since he did look like his brother, the hair... the skin...and so maybe that was why he cursed the boy... But it led him to another discovery, the one he had started the journey for... Amethyst eyes, and brown hair, the same person his grandfather had written all those records about... the one who never died all those years, until he committed suicide. Slashing those wrists of his... maybe it was a very effective way, wasn't it? So, he got up, and out he came to the kitchen, nobody noticed that he held a knife in his hands... A kitchen knife... Used for food, was it? Never to be used as a killing tool... was it? Honour thy food, and never stain it... What? Wasn't it used for killing the same food we eat? The plants were once alive, the meat were those living things that moved before hey were killed, and this very same knife was used to kill it more.
He breathed heavily and went up to the room, staring at the knife, he sighed more. Was it supposed to be put inside his chest? He might survive... Was he supposed to stick it in his throat? Some people lived and suffered after that... was it supposed to be used anywhere else? His blood had stained nothing, but his own body, and he is repenting now. He must shed it so that this earth would swallow him up and never give him back to those shadows of death. He wanted desperately to have him, the answer, his salvation, but he can't... And when he saw him again, those same cold eyes that withheld power, he shuddered for he thought that he would definitely be able to kill him this time, once and for all. What has happened to him? What? Was he going crazy? No... he was not feeling himself... Was it some after effect of someone? Who was doing this to him? Who was reminding him of his past so much? Who was trying to make himself killed? No, please, he wanted it desperately to stop. Those screams that echoed in his head a long time ago... he must not feel this way.. Who was toying with him?
Kill yourself now...
"...No... Who are you?!"
The voice inside your head...
"No...I can't...I still have a chance to do it..."
You are a failure, admit it...
"No I am not..."
Yes you are...Remember?
"...I..."
Yes you do remember...
"Yes...I do..."
Who killed your parents?
"Saki..."
No you idiot... you did...
"I did?"
Yes you did...You let him do it...You let him do it!!!
"NO!!! I DIDN'T MEAN TO!!!"
Muraki Kazutaka coiled slowly, crying, tears of pain rolling down his face as the voice kept on tormenting him again and again, and his past flashed in front of his eyes, all of his victims crawling up to him, from every corner of the room, and the one who shone out was the one he cursed, that same green eyes grinning with baneful glee... they reached cold hands to his throat, and green eyes took the knife from the floor, and traced a line on his skin, following the path of life, his veins... throbbing with pain, it opened, and out came the blood...
And he took it in his hands... And did the same...
That's it... Kill yourself now... kill yourself now!!!
Muraki traced the path marred on his skin with the edge of the knife. Slowly, he bled, the pain increasing as his blood forced its way out of the opening he had made. He trudged his was out of the room to find his burial place; a place where he could lie peacefully in... Where he could altogether bury his sins and his whole life's memoir and forever be with those who loved him most...
Making his was through the maze of walls and doors, he finally collapsed on the red fur carpet that masked the bloodstains dripping from the wounds on his arms... and at that, he held to himself no more.
11.12.03/10:45
Sombrely, the girls bowed their heads and walked away from the door from which they waited expectantly. They do owed the sensei a lot; quietly, they prayed for his injuries to heal. They worried too, but the degree of their anxiety was nothing compared to their master... their master was, is, very close to the sensei, in the sense that he was like a brother already, and it was not a pretty sight to see their master like that. For a day, they'd seen the change that engulfed him like a hawk feeding on its prey. Overnight he had aged and he was not his usual poised self, he merely looked at them with eyes of pure ice, determined to stop the perpetrator of his dear sensei's soul and mind. And he swore to make matters settled, when the score had gone to their vicinity.
"Girls, lock up the doors, we are closed for now."
"As you wish, Oriya-sama..."
Whispering and glancing were all they could do, monstrous was their master's wrath that he had that glint in his eyes like a madman's revenge had gone to its peak of success, gone was the usual warm smile he always held and it was replaced by the scowl that had come when at first he glanced at the ruins of his past life's painting. His memoirs of the night the death of his sensei's ego and deterioration of his friend's soul and mind had begun was still on his mind, all the while seething with rage as he glanced at his friend's door.
"You will not open for anyone, understand? You shall do some inventory for the meantime. Understood?"
"Yes sir."
Slowly, they marched one by one, and off they went to the back of the building. He took out the rarefied blade on which he fought with the Deaths that had come in his presence before, buying time with the battle, and his memories of it was splattered with blood and the rotten smell of unfinished business.
With one swift move, he made the pact that shall change things from there on, marking the ground with his words and with his own blood, a pact of pure hatred and purpose, to protect the one he truly cherishes. 311.12.03/12:54That day, after all the confusion had somehow settled, he marched his way reluctantly to school, occasionally glancing at his sides. Somehow, he felt empty. But since every one was acting weird, he brushed it off, dismissing it as something unimportant.
"Um, Kurosaki-san, have you seen Lena?" Kida fervently approached a very agitated Hisoka who was trying to mix some of the chemicals laden in front of him.
"Why're you asking me?"
"Because she seems to be hanging around with you more this past few days... She's been, like, acting so weird..."
"Yeah, like, so weird..." Maki supplied from behind him. "She had burst out when the play, was like, cancelled, and was like, so furious, like, she even screamed at Kida..."
"So...you're looking for her because...?" Hisoka didn't bother to look at them and continued to pour in the base liquid.
"Don't you ever listen? She's not around okay, and we figured that you could've, like seen her or something..." Sheila piped in, as she neared them.
"Look, I'm, like, busy, and apparently as you can see, she's not, like, with me, is she?" Hisoka snapped sarcastically as he turned around to look at the three girls.
Forlorn and really worried, they backed away and proceeded with their work. Chem. was supposed to be a time to be quiet, Hisoka thought. And Lena seems to ruin everything even if she wasn't around. Funny though, he seems to have a little canny feeling at the back of his mind that he knows the reason of Lena's absence. Still, he had his own problems to deal with.
He grumbled an oath as his work began to ooze out of its container.
Later that day, as he walked his way out of the tangle of teenagers that flooded the hallway, he was thinking of going back to Meifu to see what can be done about the case since he couldn't reach Tatsumi... (Tatsumi's cellular phone is currently buried under the ashes in a dumpster. And his office phone suffered the same fate.) He found himself face-to-face with a brown-haired someone. More like bumped into. And as he looked up, a swordsman, a katana in its sheath was placed over his shoulders by one arm, and the students were looking at them expectantly. The words fell from those lips like an oath, eyes glinting with malicious danger and only a few words were needed to convince Hisoka to grant Mibu Oriya's request, or rather, demand. And so as to save a lot of trouble and a lot of innocent lives. Who wouldn't say yes to a person whose face clearly screamed bloody murder?
"Meifu or murder."
A giggle in the dark corner of the hall was unheard as amused eyes followed their retreat.
Two days ago, it was such a huge mess: they had to repel Tsuzuki and pry his fingers from Watari's lapels. Watari was almost on the verge of crying for he really didn't know what to do if it weren't for Terazuma who in the process had a huge blow coming from Tsuzuki himself for the older Shinigami had no self-control at the time, and Tsuzuki was totally crazy that he almost killed the poor man... Fortunately, Tatsumi was quick enough to stick the ofuda on his forehead, and soon, he fell asleep. They carried Tsuzuki to his own apartment and left him there, Watari a constant watchman, and Tatsumi a shadow that visited every now and then, checking at the both of them. Tsuzuki was still asleep, and it was good that the matter with Tatsumi's office was finished and dealt with, but unfortunately it had gone to ashes again, because Watari had left one of his Bunsen burners that had amazingly survived the disaster he had caused back then, and now, not only was Tatsumi's office burned crisp, but so was half the library, and the other half had managed to survive amazingly enough.
And today, there was no mistaking the person who came to pay the Shinigamis a 'visit'. He had Hisoka with him, and the boy, with much disgust seen on his pallid face was totally unnerved and was furious that he wouldn't let the 'visitor' touch him. He was cornered by one furious swordsman, and paid Hisoka a visit in school, and since he couldn't do much within a ring of students (who looked like potential carcasses in the near future), could he say no to the request?
Hisoka was almost spitting out with rage until he felt Tatsumi's hand on his shoulder. Hisoka looked at him, pleading and confusion marred in his green eyes, asking him a silent question. How Hisoka was convinced to bring him there was unknown still, since the boy clearly refuses to elaborately tell the whole story of the incident's earlier occurrence.
Watari was desperately trying to catch his eye, but well, as anyone would, Hisoka plainly ignored him. Whether Hisoka sensed Watari's efforts or not, it was reasonable for someone in his shoes. But it was unfair, you see, it was also partly Hisoka's fault for not explaining how he understood things, and because of his pride and sort of a cowardly state of accepting his own fault at things, (even though we see him as someone who berates Tsuzuki most of the time) he had a hard time admitting it was because of his misreckoning. And so, the misunderstanding grew. Tsuzuki, dense as ever, wouldn't snap out of his trance and so, things had gone to worse.
And now, Hisoka sat apprehensively next to the secretary who always had a face ready for every occasion. No matter how gruesome it is. Tatsumi sat opposite Mibu Oriya outside the JuuOhCho office. On the table was Oriya's katana, placed horizontally between them. Tatsumi offered tea as a sign of much respect though the visitor isn't that worthy of their respect, specially Hisoka's since he is, after all, Muraki's subordinate, friend, constant hideout, and might I remind you that he was the one who almost decapitated him when Muraki kidnapped Tsuzuki?
"Pray do tell me, what is your business for coming here?" Tatsumi offered a small smile, though still unfailingly rigid, and he had pushed those glasses up the bridge of his nose, a trademark which was Tatsumi nonetheless.
"Let me explain..." 411.12.03/13:00
"Let me explain..." A quick glance at Hisoka and a snarl invaded his lips from his previous smile. Really, who said that he should be happy to do this anyway? This wasn't a favour. This wasn't a nice little tea party with little sweet smelling flowers and nice little lace table cloths. This wasn't supposed to be his activity for the day! This wasn't part of his itinerary; according to his life plan, he should be spending time being happy, for Kami's sake!! No, this wasn't a time to be polite. He demanded answers, and he wanted them right away. Why should he explain? Oh. That. He just wanted to calm himself partly because he wanted to strangle this boy who looked at him as if he was some kind of dirt on the floor that should be wiped clean right away, or just left there because it was so unsanitised that they were afraid to touch it; and partly because he wanted everything to turn out okay for that day. He didn't want this conversation to end up with blood all over the place. And besides, if he even started anything, he knows he'll be outnumbered.Oh, the joyous lives of those who live only for loyalty and perish for love.
It was hard enough for him to explain this to a man whose face was a portrait of serenity untainted. Merciful Kannon, help him. The blond man beside him, towering over them was no help at all. So, alright, he doesn't know him at all, but the icy and calculating stare was making him uncomfortable. He tried to smile, but he ended up smirking, and eventually laughing at himself. They waited for him until he finished. Damn that man, those eyes were warmer than an ice berg, and he was just waiting politely, sitting there with his hands folded neatly on the table, not even drinking his tea. Tatsumi, was it?
"I'm sorry. I just find it... amusing." He finally said. "I mean, I'm here in the Land of the Dead, asking you this... There is no way you could go down to the Land of the Living, just like that, right?" Oriya snapped his fingers, then delicately slid them over the rim of his cup before drinking his tea. A sip; and then a glance at Tatsumi.
"I don't think I'm following you," Tatsumi said. "But regarding the about the trips to Chijou, we do have certain rules to oblige with."
"Right..." Oriya languidly looked at him and smiled a small smile.
"You don't believe me, do you?" Tatsumi countered quietly.
"Maybe, maybe." Oriya whispered, looking at his cup. In the corner of his eye, the blond man with the lab coat bent down and whispered to Tatsumi, who nodded and then went away, excusing himself in a hurried whisper.
"I am a secretary here, and I am sure you understand that I am a busy person," Tatsumi started.
"So just what the hell did you come here for?!? Did your sensei order you to tell us the date and time he will cause havoc again? Is this some kind of sick new change of plans?!? What the fuck---" Hisoka had finally burst out and had stood up, slamming his hands on the table, rocking the china and spilling the tea. Tatsumi held out his hand to stop him from further screaming another string of curses and oaths enough to fill a bowl and even a whole pot equivalent to a square breakfast fortified with Vitamins and Minerals. Want the special surprise? A fistful in the face.
"Hisoka-kun, please, that is enough." Tatsumi warned.
Oriya chuckled, but there was no mirth in his laugh, it was an ironic parody of what he felt. He could feel the anger from the boy, but he cared not for he knows that cutting him up right then and there would do nothing for both him and Muraki. He was seething with rage as he sat back down again. He merely shrugged his shoulders and answered.
"You boy, must be so damaged to hate him that much."
"Mibu-san, if you would be so kind as to stop taunting my colleague here, I would like to discuss your business of coming here. Please, surely you have problems of your own, and we have ours. We wish to deal with this as quick as possible." Tatsumi said, his voice still calm, and his expressions still void of any tension and exasperation, but he truly was tired of this kind of thing.
Hisoka must have been really deaf or he just wanted to die right then and there. "Well, if you were in my place, you would understand, wouldn't you? Why don't I show you what your beloved left me?!?" Hisoka pulled on his uniform shirt, snapping the buttons open before Tatsumi could even stop him. He stood up, and there, he stretched the fabric further to reveal a liberal amount of skin. Ugly crimson red marks blossomed on his skin, and Tatsumi had to flinch. Oriya just stared at him.
"Well, if you weren't a nosy little brat and had been good enough to stay in your little room then he wouldn't have killed you, would he?" Oriya spat out.
"Wha---?! You mean that if your friend was a murderous psycho that you can't stop because you're so weak that you follow his orders like a hungry puppy, you mean to say that his victims are the ones supposed to stay out of his fucking way?!" Hisoka screamed, feeling unsure of his sanity being intact still.
"Hisoka! Please! Stop it this instant!" Tatsumi took the boy by his shoulders and shook him. "Get a grip of yourself!"
Hisoka, half-blinded with tears, finally drew in a shaky breath, and softly he said, "If you need me, I'll be in Chijou, I'm sorry, Tatsumi- san." He then disappeared.
Tatsumi massaged his temples and sat back down again. The sooner he finished this matter in front of him, the better. "Mibu-san, please, let us just get to the point and finish up. I would like to get back to work and I still have to type up a report for this."
"Yes. This concerns Muraki-san., so I was wondering, have any of your... colleagues gone near him?"
Tatsumi blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Just two days ago, Muraki-san had severed his veins with a kitchen knife. He attemted sudicide. He went to Tokyo the day prior the incident, and he seems okay. Since he had mentioned something about that boy, I presummed that either he did something, or his partner did something to him." Oriya leaned on his hand for support. Suddenly, he felt nausea seeping into his head.
"Mibu-san, I assure you that my two colleagues are in no condition to hrt him. They are deathly afraid of him,"
"I found an address, I saw him somewhere and I followed him, it led to the school where that boy is, and so I thought---"
"You thought wrong, Hisoka-kun was on an assignment---"
"Isn't his partner...the one Muraki had been..."
"Mibu-san, Tsuzuki is in no condition to torment Muraki. He is sick." Tatsumi said with a tone of finalization in his voice. He stood up and picked up the katana on the table; he handed it to Oriya who had stood up also, and Tatsumi escorted him down to Chijou.
"Hisoka..."
Tsuzuki Asato was the unluckiest fellow I have ever seen. Besides me, that is. He was still sleeping and was still in the nightmare he himself had created. Watari almost slapped him on the face for being so thick. He figures that Tsuzuki really didn't see the jealousy that the boy had wrapped himself up with, and so, he merely sighed in exasperation. Grinning now, as an irate Tatsumi entered the room, feeling the Kagetsukai's shadows creeping behind him with the same irate atmosphere, he stood silently and walked towards him, raising an eyebrow indicating an inquiry of his own. He had walked out on the odd visitation of an old 'acquaintance' for he didn't like the man much.
"It was... fine..." Tatsumi whispered.
"He was that much, wasn't he?" Watari glanced at Tsuzuki.
"Yes. He was confused, really, and he didn't believe me when I said that Tsuzuki was not in shape to torment Muraki." Tatsumi massaged his right temple and sat down a chair beside him. "Is he all right?"
"Yes. He's still dreaming and he seems to have a nightmare, but I can' wake him up."
"That can't be." Tatsumi frowned.
"What can't be?" Watari glanced at Tsuzuki.
"I gave him a Dreamless Sleep." Tatsumi sighed.
"Oh he is in a terrible state."
"You can say that again..."
"How was bon?" Watari folded his arms in front of his chest. He was rather a bit annoyed of the boy being so 'deaf' and so... quiet as though he was some kind of 'mute' person.
"He got into this screaming match with him and it somehow concerned his death. He had ripped off his shirt and showed his curse scars. He went to Chijou shortly after that. I had to shake him before he came to his senses... Oh dear Enma..." Tatsumi winced. He massaged his temples again as he relayed the whole incident to Watari.
"It was that bad, huh?" Hearing what happened to Hisoka and what Oriya said to him, Watari couldn't help but feel sorry.
"Correct." Tatsumi looked tired. Mibu Oriya was just too much to handle, what with a katana earlier placed in between the two of them, and him being unarmed. With Hisoka adding in to the scene, screaming, well... He needed a new job.
"So... Should we help them?"
Tatsumi sighed. "We can't."
Watari looked at him and sat down afterwards, a gesture of defeat and glanced at Tsuzuki once again.
"I guess all we could do is wait..."5
10.12.03/13:30
Fluffy, feathery, frothy white clouds sailed across the sea of blue that draped over the world; the wind blew low, and cool, the sun was hiding, and any minute, it would be falling, sinking, from its place to settle in its throne of light, where the horizon meets. The people were unaware of the time, passing merrily, laughing, cheerfully talking to each other in jubilant manners; furtive glances from the girls by the corner of the park whispering desires and delusions to each other, the boys showing off to them, and giggling and squabbling about football season (I meant soccer... it sounds better to me that way...) and basevall; car rides and night outs, bar hopping and the latest trends... Teenagers. Such hormones they posses. It was blasé to the park dwellers that stay there until the brink of dusk watvhing all the people pass by, where they try to relax and enjoy a nice family day, a date with a lover, where they could create their own worlds in their little places, under a tree, on a bench, on the grass underside the blanket of rays and luscious delicacies. Life was going on as usual, and they savoured it by risking a few more personal hours to be with their destined partners. And it sure was worth it. But somehow there were still those who lay content just reading a book, or sitting alone listening to music, staring at the bright cerulean water, glistening with the elation radiating from the passer bys. And it seems that everything around them lights up and breathes the very same air they breathe. They hold on to the moment, cherish it until they have to part from the world they have created temporarily... Sad? No, they could always do it everyday. And they continue living to the next day, and to the next, to the next, and to the next... Until their destinies crash on to the dirt. And they fall. Permanently. They never get up anymore, because their lives have come to an end by that time.
Confusticate their souls and damn their lives. How come they were allowed to laugh so freels in this hell of a world they tread upon? Taking up everything they cold grab hold of, trying to strive to get to the top and achieve the greatness they dreamed of from before, the dream of having a wonderful life in this reality they were forced to swallow and endure; grieving whenever something had happened, the moment it strikes they fall, but then they want to get up but can't. Sometimes, when they fall, they never do get up. Why? They loathed this world they were in but still wanted it for them only; wanted to comquer everytthing, assume power and end the lives of those hwo get in their way. They use people, and it cannot be stopped for the ones being used were tied to a bond, a promise to live for. It was a cursed world. A blinding reality, and unfolding mystery to enslave you for eternity, mind games, confusing and confounding. Lost in the tangles and gnarls of fibre of the cloth that completed the destinies they held within them, the Goddess of Mercy paying no attentiom to what their wishes were, but enjoyed the sight of them pleading for it anyway. Confusticate those damn people who hurt the others for fun, confound the chagrin and the questions of life, confound those who dare question it, confound those who expect goot to come to them by not working for it, confusticate those who lay about and watch the time go by, counting it until they die, and never move a single damn muscle to make this hell a better place. There was no place liek heaven or hell. It was laready there in their grasps, and it only made matters worse for they could not see it. But there are also those who see it, they are the ones who are pure, who believe, but there are still those who damn the Creator and shy away from him more, still not believing the light that shone on them the first day they were born.
"Confusticate it."
Everything was damned to her; they were all damned; no one could expect thr damnation of cruelty and greed. No one can escape the temptations. Damn everything she ever hoped for, and damn those who came near her to ask her for her mercy. Fuck those who are hurt her, confound them and damn them. She might as well die. But dying meant giving up, and it was not acceptable. She needed to give her life for another after she had done the sacrifice she had prepared. Might as well take out any feeling and emotion she had, to enable her to do it properly. And now, it begins.
Sitting on a cold, metal-wrought chair, tall and thin framed, smooth and shiny, there she stilled, all seriousness marred on her face. She looked almost like a statue as the checking began. She shived the thoughts of the earlier view she had encountered before she had arrived on that place. She never liked it though it was her customary place to begin any other journey to ensure her health. It was random, it was normal, but she hated the feel of the bite it gives her, the cold that stung her, the morphine she smelt whenever she walked in. Quite a doctor this person was, a lunatic, perhaps, but she had taken a bit of liking on him. He was very jolly, talking abour all sorts of gadgets whenever she came, new formulas to recreate the DNA and genetic codes of people, anything about science. He was a graduate of his early years, dedicated to the art, but since there were lots of scientists lurking around and about the competition was fierce, and so his ideas were never acknowledged. So, he dedicated himself to her family. What a coincidence, they helped him, and he helped them, doing their monthly checkups. And he got paid the amount he needes to begin his experiments.
"Now, now, don't worry, it'll be awhile only..." Themounds of things muffled his voice, or more likely, junk his tables and chairs held, behind the book shelves and sracks of books, he searched for the tools he needed.
"I only have a few minutes. Can't it be a little more faster?" She tried, as she could not to sound impatient. He might get into a fit again. He really was a loon. He never wanted to be rushed; his reason was, things should not be rushed, and it must be waited for.
"At least two hours. It can't be done in just a snao of the fingers, my dear lady." He chckled a bit, and hec ontinued to mumble to himself, scaling the measuremnts required for the process.
"Tell me, is this the right viscosoty?" He asked as he emerged from behinf a bookshelf.
"How could you manage to work in this place?" She peered at the glass vial he held befor eher and nodded despite her question.
"Oh, I manage." He shook the glass vial slowly. "Oh good, now I'm almost done and we can begin..." He smiled at her as he pushed his thick glasses up the brdge of his nose.
"Two hours. Does it really have to be that long?" My flight is about seven p.m. and it'd already one-thirty."
"Okay, and hour and a half. It'll hurt though."
"I don't care, after this, I won't feel anything else, would I?"
Silence.
"Hello?"
"What? I mean, oh... yes... certainly..."
"You're hiding something from me."
"Who? Me? No, no, no...Okay, it's done, let's begin."
He escorted her to the back of the room; he opened a steel door which swung inwardly, and it made a creaking noise. The room they went in was cold, that their breaths looked like small fogs. She then sat on the steel chair; she cringed as she felt it bite.
"No, no, you don't sit there..." He said, and then he escorted her to a capsul-like bed, with the top that can be opened and closed... (Imagine a CAT scan) She shook inwardly.
"I---I---can't go in there."
"How come?" He frowned.
"I---I---"
"he looked at her nervous form and figured out what was the matter by glancing at his machine then at how she stared at it.
"Claustrophobia."
Vigorous nods.
"Close your eyes, and relax. I'll give you something that would calm you down."
He scrambled to one of his shelves and took out a needle. He tore the plastic and injected it into a bottle of something she couldn't quite read the label of. He then struck her with it, and she soon fell into his arms. He vision got hazy and she felt herself let go of her surroundings.
6
09.12.03/7:55 (Two days earlier...)
"I could not believe this."
The rest of the drama club couldn't ether... and also the whole school. Even her gilfriends, who weren't in the cast.
"No, no, no, I do not believe this." Makino Lena stared and read the whole bulletin posted on the board again. "Why?! What did I do to deserve this?!" Sniff. Sniff. "Why'd they have to cancel the play?!"
"Lena, what's the matter? It's just a play..."
That ticked her off. She turned to the speaker; Kida, her friend, had yelped as Lena's eyes flashed dangerously at her.
"Just a play?! I DARE YOU TO SAY THAT AGAIN!" Lena bellowed. The whole hallway of students stopped in thier tracks to stare at her. "It's not just a play! It's the play!" Lena grumbled under her breath as she faced the paper again, reading the notice and the reason of the delay. January was so far away... and she had learned all the lines!
"L-l-l-lena... What're you saying?" Sheila tapped her shoulder. When Lena turned, she was all smiling, eyes shining, and they stood there, just waiting fo her to something. And Lena faced them again, prompting them to say something...or anything...and her face just changed like that. From scary to carfree...Weird...They shuddered.
"What? Come on, you gys are so strange sometimes." Lena said as she flipped her long mane over her shoulder and walked away.
"She is acting like, so weird..."
"Yeah...And her eyes looked scary!"
"Guys! I'm waiting!" Lena tapped her foot impatiently.
"Coming!" Her girlfriends scrambled after her, whispering.11.12.03/14:00
Pray do tell, this wasn't what he expected it to be... What part of the whole idea was defective? What pat of his instructions weren't clear? Why does it have to sum up like this?
"Hello?" Drumming fingers on the table, he waited anxiously for the person he called to answer. "Are you still alive? I haven't got all day, I still have to pick her up, you know."
Why hadn't it been another person? Why does it have to be Benedict Braun? Surely there are a lot of people in the whole of Japan and Europe that can make the machines he needed? And sureley there are many of those who are better than him. But since he had no choice... He had to make good use of what he has.
The reciever crackled. Suki waited anxiously in her seat near the phone as she waited for Circe to tell her the news about his niece, and her 'sister'; he had insisted on calling them by thier respective names, the names they ised themselves as a means of protection; they were, after all, in another family's house and they should pay their respects nonetheless. Like it would matter at all...Suki had thought. They're just going to forget about it afterwards. Circe was currently gibbering about how unorganised Ben was.
"What do you mean by 'faulty'?!" Circe almost bellowed but kept his voice toned down a little. If he had, then it would've spoiled the fun since the matter was supposed to be secret, Suki could hear the poor man's voice distinctly, and she higly suspects that it was another round of apologies sent to Circe. Circe's thoughts were echoed by an irritated sigh. Irat, his fingers that were drumming on the table grabbed a pen and twirled it, just to keep it busy, since he was absolutely nonplussed by all of this. Why of why does it have to sum up like this?!
"What do you mean...?" Circe breathed again. Now his green eyes were screaming bloody hell since Danné mattered so much to them. Suki was worrie too, very worried. She finally decided to stand up and stretch. As she moved towards the grand stairs covered with burgundy carpeting, she noticed two figures moving strealthily across the lawn downstairs. What a bunch of idiots. She thought to herself. Smiling ironically, she descended the stairs and picked up the silencer and her pistol. Blue eyes glinting, she signalled at Circe who nodded and she placed the pistol in her coat pocket.
7
11.12.03/15:00
Sitting cross-legged with his katana placed beside him on the waxed floor was Mibu Oriya, a grim expression adorned his face. He had talked to Muraki again about his current 'Suicide attempt', and all he got was Muraki;s mumbling of what went wrong. Three days ago, he was fine, and went to a 'friend' of his, and all of a sudden, he starts this insane idea of failure. He finally decided to seek the answer himself. Assuming that it is the work of thos Shinigamis, he asked Muraki if he had seen any of them.
"He's in Tokyo... He's grown to be so beautiful... so vulnerable... Green eyes..." Muraki had mumbled.
And it was wrong to rummage thorugh his sensei's things, but it was the only way. He found a pice of paper with the address of the place he went to a few days ago, in Toky. He took the plane, and there, he spotted himself the person he needed and it was quite surprising even to himself; Kurosaki Hisoka, looking as lively as any of the kids around him. If you look at it at their perspective.
Holding up his katana upon his shoulders earlier, a display of threat, he had said a few words that he knows would definitely convince the boy to bring him to their secretary. But then Tsuzuki Asato was confined in the hospital... So how could he gotten Muraki inot this kind of insanity? Rising up from the floor, he pondered more. And as he opened the shoji to go to KuKaKurou's main door, he found himseld face to face with a pair of green orbs, a mass of tangled brown hair barely concealed the worry beneath it.
Despite the expression, a blade gleamed and graced flesh. Of Oriya's own unguarded neck.
to be continued
Confusticate--- there is no such word as confusticate, really. J.R.R. Tolkein himself have said this; he used this in his book, The Hobbit... I am merely borrowing it. It is for something called Character Building or whatever. You figure out how it fits in. No harm intended. --U
A/N: have you guys gathered some clues yet? No? Maybe the next chapter might help... Now, I must run off to the KuKKurou to help 'Riya-kun. I promised to help clean since he was threatened in this chapter. Ungrateful characters. Sweatdrop
But first:
Questions from the insane mmind of Aki Konoe:
1.Now do you guys see why I was asking for a cure on Claustrophobia? (Besides, I need it too...)
2.Did you people like this chapter though?
3.Was Oriya okay?
4.Was my PlotKitty revealed?! Because if my Plot was.... guessed easily...well...
5.How was the mUraki-torture? Good? Bad? (I hope it's the former, I might cry if it's not....)
6.Have you read my crossover yet?
7.Have you guys heard of the new X?
8.Where could I get sites for nice (Yaoi-centric) pictures? tries to hide her devilish side
Angel-Aki hits Devil-Aki on the head with a heavy tome titled: Psychology; by Spencer A. Rathus Bad Aki-chan! Bad Aki-chan!
9.Please be honest with me, (I'm kinda stuck in a rut with 5 and 1 fics pending...) tell me if my story sucks or if its good... (I need my ego to swell like a mutated wtermelon so I could write faster)
10.Please, can anyone give me nice little sites on which I can read some mythologies (just to spen my free time on) and other junk like that, then I could pront it out so I have something ot read during my spare time (after writing fics, that is...)
Sincerely loving you folks more and more each day,
Aki Konoe )
Yaoi clan member and/of the Yaoists clan of SPC... (or rather SPU now that they're a university... sigh)
SPC= to CCCom (Culture Crash Comics) fans and readers, this is not the Samahan Para Kay Clarissa. Clear? Salamat po. Merci. Gracias. Thanks. Arigato. Xie xie.