Tatsumi had seen little of his partner and friend in the last few days. Granted, there was a lot of paperwork piling up and expenses needed to be stopped from rampaging. But he had always had time for Watari and even if he buried himself in work, his lover just barged into the office and brought with it a moment of normality and relaxation.
There had been no whirlwind storming into his office. There had been no meetings over a cup of specialty coffee. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Watari at all. He came home to an empty apartment, feeling cold and lonely in bed like he hadn't felt in decades. He missed his lively companion, the evening discussions, the casualness, how they watched a program together, how the slender body accommodated him when they lay together…
Tatsumi sighed and forced himself back on his report.
There was a knock on the door and he frowned. There were one or two individuals who actually knew how to knock, but others usually just came in. When the door opened, he was surprised to see that the man entering usually belonged to the last category.
Tsuzuki, balancing two mugs of coffee, shot him a brief smile. "Busy?"
"No," Tatsumi answered warily.
Tsuzuki Asato was a man with several faces. There was the outermost personality, the cheerful, sometimes very child-like one who loved sweets, who could pout like a four-year-old and whom you couldn't be mad at for a very long time. It was the personality that charmed people, that was soft and gentle and loving. It was the innocence. Then there was the layer just underneath, the slight edge to the innocence, but still warm and gentle. But more serious. More aware of the evil of the world and handling it still.
And there was the innermost part, the fragile human being that was still dealing with so many things, with guilt and shame and pain and suffering. It was a soul that had been torn apart many times and was only held together by the sheer willpower of the man, by his ties to people who worked with him, who supported him, who listened to him.
But underneath it all raged a darkness, a power, that rivaled Enma-Daiou's. Tsuzuki Asato was the most powerful shinigami in Meifu. His power was a darkness brought forth by what Tsuzuki was, by his genealogy, his DNA. Tatsumi didn't know how much of his friend wasn't human, but considering everything… a good part of him. His eyes were a dead giveaway, as was his ability to gather twelve shikigami around himself! Among them Touda, who Tatsumi wouldn't want to face even when the lethal creature had a good day. But Tsuzuki… he had fought for this particular entity, had freed him, had done everything to keep him free. Was it that strange innocence that refused to see the darkness, or was it the darkness yearning for an equal?
"Coffee?" Tsuzuki now offered and held out the cup.
Tatsumi took it and met the violet gaze, frowning a little. Tsuzuki… knocking at the door… offering coffee.. and then he saw the serious expression.
"Something the matter?"
A wide, cheerful smile was the answer, momentarily erasing the expression. "Just thought you needed a caffeine boost."
Another frown. "I see. And?"
"And nothing."
"Tsuzuki…"
A sigh. The black dressed man sank into the chair opposite Tatsumi's desk. "You okay?"
Now where was that coming from?
"Of course I'm okay."
"Good. Just asking."
"Tsuzuki…" He put a warning into his voice.
And the amethyst eyes snapped from cheerful and teasing to serious.
"Seiichiro, what's wrong with Yutaka?"
Tatsumi felt the breath leave his lungs, shocked by both the personal address and the topic. "Wrong?" he echoed.
"Don't tell me you haven't noticed that he has taken to hiding in his lab, slaving over whatever it is, how he seems so different. I haven't talked to him in over a week. Watari is my best friend, but he shies away from contact. Hisoka tells me he's getting something weird from him."
"Weird?" he echoed again.
"Weird. As in – it's not him any more. I'm not saying possessed, but something has changed. Did the two of you break up?"
He sucked in another breath. "No!" he blurted and the shadows twitched.
Shit.
Tsuzuki smiled a little. "Good. Just checking. Now… what's wrong?"
Tatsumi stared at him, cursing the perceptiveness that hid underneath the innocent façade.
"I don't know," he finally said.
And what's it to you? Since when did my personal life become of such interest?
Tsuzuki leaned forward. "Then find out. He's your partner. Your lover. As a friend I can do only so much until he kicks me out. Actually, he doesn't have to because the lab's locked. Whatever he works on, he's serious about it. Very. As his lover, you are the closest person to Yutaka. Seiichiro…"
He was mesmerized by the intense expression and blinked to tear his gaze away. "I'll talk to him."
"Not just talk. Listen, too."
And then the smile was back, the carefree, humorous, cheerful version. Violet eyes changed from serious to fun. It was such a startling change, so unexpected, and still, after seventy odd years of knowing the younger shinigami, Tatsumi should be used to it by now. Seventy years where Tsuzuki kept the world at bay, let others only see what he wanted them to, and where he controlled a power that made him a dangerous man to piss off. Terazuma had found out the hard way once, but only once, and it hadn't really helped their relationship.
"Okay!" Tsuzuki announced, a bounce in his voice and body. "Gotta go. Hisoka's promised to get me some cake."
And with that he was out of the office, leaving his empty mug behind. Typical.
Tatsumi stared at the closed door, amazed by his former partner again and again.
"Thank you, Asato," he murmured.
There so much more to you than meets the eye. I'm glad you are our friend.
He planned to talk to Watari tonight, maybe even sooner.

It was just too bad that something interrupted and all his good intentions were blown to bits. A small crisis that turned into a full-blown problem.
It was late when he returned home, cursing Enma, Konoe and whoever else was handy for the workload, but all his curses were swallowed when he saw the sleeping form in his bed, blond hair loosely braided, pale face smoothed out, completely naked. The Shadow Master looked at the man he loved, feeling those emotions again, overwhelming him like nothing else ever had.
Took us years to get to this point, he thought. Years of being colleagues, friends and partners.
After nearly a week, Watari had found his way into his home again. He wanted to touch his lover, hold him close, kiss his lips, run his hands over the smooth, warm skin, but he stopped himself.
Tatsumi prepared for bed as silently as possible, then slipped under the covers. Watari was sleeping on, exhausted as it seemed, and the Shadow Master smiled tenderly. He lay down, eyes on his lover, and finally dozed off.

He had spent the last days looking for a formula to repel demons, to fight them on a chemical basis, not just with magic, but whatever he had tried, it hadn't worked. Frustrated, sometimes close to tears, Watari had finally buried his project and dejectedly resigned himself to the fact that he was neither a researcher nor a scientist.
Failure.
The fact that three days of research couldn't miraculously produce a solution didn't cross his confused mind. He only heard the mocking voice, taunting him. He didn't recall the fact that it took time and patience to find something so complex. He wanted a success. He needed to prove to himself that he was not worthless.
But you are, little shinigami the voice snickered.
So he had crawled back to Tatsumi, into the empty apartment, into the cold bed, waiting. He had dropped off into sleep and not felt his lover snuggle in with him, close to him.
What am I for you? Watari thought as he looked at the sleeping man. Golden eyes rested on the naked shinigami, smiling faintly as he let his gaze linger on the muscular form. The blankets pooled enticingly around Tatsumi's hips, revealing a hint of buttock, and he itched to lay down next to his lover again, touch him, hold him, feel the reassurance of their bodies together.
They keep you as entertainment. Just like he does.
The demon's words kept echoing in his mind and he bit down on his despair. For a week now it was haunting him throughout his waking hours and in his sleep. It taunted him with its knowledge, how it read his emotions, how it knew. The voice never stopped, only faded, but the cold remained.
Had he really defeated that thing? Or had Tatsumi lied for his sake? Had he destroyed it with his shadows?
What are my powers anyway? he thought. I bumble along in the lab. I pursue odd potions. I'm an engineer, not a scientist! What have I to show for thirty odd years of playing with my chemistry sets? Now and then I patch someone up who doesn't really need my help. It's like a reassurance that stems from their human past. Have someone care for their injuries.
Watari closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself, but it didn't work.
I have no function. I am a shinigami, responsible for a district with close to no activities… and my life after death is senseless.
He opened his eyes and looked at his lover.
Seii… What do you see in me? Entertainment? A way to handle the need?
The demon's voice snickered in his head, sneering. The sadistic whispers continued, sowing doubt and fear.
He angrily clamped down on his emotions. Why was he so damned depressed all of a sudden? He had never cared about all of this before, except… except his relationship with Tatsumi Seiichiro. It meant the world to him. It meant his life…
Watari rose from the bed and slipped on his clothes, walking into the kitchen to make himself a coffee. The noise of fluttering wings told him that 003 was following, as she had done so often lately. She had been with him when he had come to tatsumi's place, happily hooting her approval of his choice of overnight stay, and had fallen asleep on her favorite highback chair.
Watari felt shaky, weak, rattled, and he still felt the cold touch of the demon now and then. It had read his innermost thoughts… and his innermost fears.
I don't want to lose you, Seii, he thought. But if I'm just a body for you to relieve your needs, did I ever have you?
Cold fingers closed around the mug and he bit back his tears. Watari rarely cried. He never did so in public or around his friends, and now he was close to a breakdown in Tatsumi's flat.
"'Taka?"
The voice made him flinch and it took everything inside the blond not to wince away. Instead he summoned what strength he had left and turned to face his lover, a smile on his features.
"Good morning, Seii."