A/N: *SPELL CHECKED VERSION*
Hello there! This instalment came almost in time, ne?
WARNING: (oh, wow, I never give out warnings ^-^) This chapter has two references to NON-CON. I think is mildly limish. But it's mild, there are no anatomic descriptions or anything, and I didn't use the word 'hardened', or 'engorged', so I'm safe.
Another thing, I have two pieces of fanart (I have fanart, I have fanart! *faints*) that Lyn and Kurikuri made for this fic.
Go to:
Enjoy!!
A SMILE UPON MY FACE
A burst of lilac light filled the halls, only to be followed by a loud explosion a moment later. Hijiri shuddered; just a few minutes before, he'd been able to count to five between the lightning and the thunder. The storm was getting closer.
"The boy is ok, so is his friend." He heard the voice in front of him before the owner's form had finished corporizing. "They're heading towards Tsuzuki's room now. The demon is nowhere near here."
Hijiri hesitated. He didn't want to sound overprotective.
"Do you... do you think we should follow them?"
Aome smothered some invisible wrinkle from her shirt and shrugged.
"If the demon was going to attack, don't you think he would have already?"
"I also find it hard to believe he would wait so long to strike. Tsuzuki is completely defenseless." his voice was soft, frail almost, and he didn't like it. "But I guess you're right, ne? Maybe he changed his mind? Maybe he's not interested anymore?"
"Maybe..." Aome said doubtfully, as she clung to his arm and they both begun walking to inspect their next target. Never mind that every time they finished one spot, they returned to check on Tsuzuki. "I just think maybe we're missing something. There's just something in the air, you know?"
"Can you sense anything? Have you seen anything?" As calmed as his tone was, Hijiri was shaking inside. He already knew the answer to that.
"Look around, Jii-san." she answered wearily "I don't think even the storm is natural."
It was true; he doubted he would have needed his 'eye-sight' to be able to see just how much dark energy was sparkling through the air. But as it was, he could see the black sprouts of energy surrounding them.
"Whatever is going to happen, it's happening soon." Hijiri said, mostly to himself.
Aome subconsciously gripped his arm tighter.
"If we don't find him..." she trailed off, her voice trembling slightly.
"I know. He'll find us."
"Aren't you scared? I... Well, fuck, I am!" she let out in frustration, and Hijiri almost laughs. Almost.
"Yeah, sure I am! That's ok, though. If you still get scared, it means you're still sane." He smiled kindly at her, she huffed.
"What's the worst that could happen? We're already dead, it's not like he can kill us. Right?"
Ah, but shinigami weren't invulnerable! Hijiri thought and frowned. They could feel pain, they could suffer; they could see their loved ones get hurt. And yes, they could be killed, should the opponent prove strong enough. Not that Hijiri feared this demon was. Demons usually were the easiest to dispose. Humans were worse. What he feared, had always feared, was to cause more damage than good; to hurt those he was supposed to protect. And this time, the stakes were just too high for his liking.
But he wasn't about to tell the girl that. She was new, young, her reasons still fresh in her mind and heart filling her with a sort of eagerness and energy he wasn't sure he still possessed. She didn't have to know about the downs when she hadn't even experienced the ups.
"Somehow, I don't find your silence very reassuring." The girl scolded, shaking Hijiri from his thoughts.
"Oh, no! Sorry, I got side-tracked!" He smiled sheepishly, she huffed again.
"Yeah, whatever." she yanked his arm forcefully "Get moving, grandpa. How many rooms left?"
"Eight. And we still need to find some of the kids that didn't report, nor left. I'm not worried though. Surely they just forgot. Kids today!" he sighed, as an old man would, and laughed at his own silliness. Well, he was an old man, wasn't he?
*~~*
Watari hugged his friend's neck and shoulders tighter, minding not to choke him, as the soothing rhythm of Tsuzuki's footsteps threatened to make him fall asleep on the spot.
When he was little, his mom had told him that it rained when angels cried because people were hurting. Almost all moms told their kids the same thing so, from a very early age, Watari had formed his own theory and decided that it was actualy angels having bubble baths and splashing water all over the earth. It was more comforting to believe the angels were having fun instead of crying over silly humans, so it made him feel better about storms.
Now he knew what caused rain. It had been almost disappointing to learn about cloud condensation. But at that moment his mother's first explanation didn't sound so silly after all.
As a man... ok, boy, of science, he also knew that crying was a way for the body to sooth it's owner when they were hurting too much. There were all kinds of chemicals in the tears themselves, that calmed you down when you cried.
It left you groggy, sedated, just as nature was after a strong rain; deadly calm and comforting. So, maybe it wasn't angels crying after all, but rain and tears didn't feel so different from where he stood.
He was starting to feel it, the drowsiness after having cried for nearly half an hour straight- to Tsuzuki's bafflement and distress. Now he felt strangely, inappropriately, good. Calmed.
Riding on someone's back was something you did when you were five, eight at the most. Not fifteen. Yet, in spite of all of Watari's attempts to abandon his childish image, he wouldn't have traded that moment for the world. Tsuzuki didn't seem to mind the weight- Watari was skinny, after all- and the blond found that being treated like a child wasn't so bad when you were feeling so awful.
Watari wanted to smack himself, remembering the tender way his best friend had talked him through his uncontrollable sobs, unaware of the fact that his kindness was causing them to come out harder each time. But the blond had managed to calm down, upon the promise of a banana milkshake if he did so. (*)
Tsuzuki was too good, too kind. Soothing him, comforting him, when his own heart had been breaking. When it was him the one who needed comfort.
Would he still treat him so kindly if he knew the blond had secretely wished for them to break up so many times before? Would they still be friends if he knew his part on the break up? Watari wasn't sure they were friends still; even if Tsuzuki was oblivious of how much of a bastard he was, Watari knew, and that was enough.
'Please, forgive me.' he thought, snuggling closer to his friend and resting his chin on Tsuzuki's shoulder.
The older boy made an awkward movement with his neck, that allowed him to kiss the top of Watari's head.
"Feeling better?" Tsuzuki cooed.
"Uh-huh" the blond mumbled, feeling the knot re-forming on his throat. But no, he would not cry again. At least for Tsuzuki's sake, he'd keep it all inside.
"Good. Now, are you going to tell me what was that all about? You'd think you were the one who got dumped!" there was no reproach in Tsuzuki's tone; just humour. Humour and concern for his well-being, and Watari wanted to crawl into a dark corner and die.
"No." he answered simply.
That took Tsuzuki aback, apparently, because he stopped on his tracks.
"No?" he asked, surprised and just a bit hurt.
"I don't wanna talk about it now." 'Or ever' he finished in his mind.
"I see." The older boy seemed to accept that as an answer, he just resumed his walk and said nothing for a while.
'I'm a coward', Watari sighed. 'I should just tell him the truth.'
"Tsuzuki?" 'No, I can't tell him! He'll hate me!'
"Yes?" Tsuzuki's tone was hopeful.
"Did... Did Tatsumi tell you why... why...?"
"Yes. He thinks... " he sighed, his voice breaking. "He thinks he's no good for me, or some crap like that. I'm not angry with him. I wish I could talk to him right now."
'So do I.' He had a thing or two to say to the blue eyed boy, and no, none of them were 'I love you'. What was he thinking? What had made him lose his mind like that? And he sure as hell was going to ask him what he'd meant the day before. If Watari's suspicions were correct and Tatsumi, indeed, loved someone else...
'He loves me.' he thought, in a mixture of happiness and anger. He shook that thought away.
"Tsu?"
"Yes?"
"How much... I mean. " Watari took a deep breath. "How much would you be able to forgive?"
Tsuzuki stopped walking again, though this time, he knelt down to deposit Watari on the ground, next to the wall and 003- who'd been riding on Tsuzuki's left shoulder- next to him. Watari, recognising that his words had probably been a mistake and there was no way Tsuzuki wasn't going to ask about it now, leaned his back to the wall and sighed tiredly.
Tsuzuki knelt in front of him and brushed some rebellious hairs out of Watari's face. With the most gentle of smiles, he spoke.
"Explain."
Watari lowered his eyes.
"What if... Would you still be my friend if I mess up real bad?"
"Watari," Tsuzuki cupped his chin with one hand, forcing him to look up. "No matter what, you'll always be my friend."
"But what if...! What if I did something awful!!" The blond cried, feeling the tears forming again.
Tsuzuki pulled him in for a hug.
"'Tari, I don't care. I love you. I might be angry, but I'll always love you, ok?"
"Ok," Watari sniffed. There was no way Tsuzuki had taken his question as hypothetical. Tsuzuki had all but forgiven him, without even knowing what had happened!! He might have doubted it, because what he'd done -what had he done, exactly?- had been too awful. But he'd never doubt Tsuzuki; he was many things, but a hypocrite wasn't one of them. "I love you too, you know?"
"Yeah, I know. Now," Tsuzuki pulled out of the embrace and brushed Watari's bangs out of his face. "I don't ever wanna see your face so sad again. It's scary!!"
Watari snorted.
"I guess I've been a little hormone-ish lately, haven't I?"
"Yes! And not only you! Everyone, even me!" Tsuzuki said, mock horror. "Do you think there's something in the food? Please, not the food!!"
"Baka!" Watari swatted his arm. Not too hard though. He then sighed and shook his head. "We should go find Hisoka, huh? If he still waiting for you, he's probably grown roots instead of feet."
"Oh!" Tsuzuki's eyes glimmered suspiciously. "Wouldn't he make a cute tree? With all kinds of pretty flowers on his head? Though he's kinda short for a tree. Maybe a bush?"
"Baka." Watari laughed.
It was so easy to feel better around Tsuzuki. Watari just hoped his friend would actually forgive him, should he find out the truth. No; *when* he found the truth, because the blond knew he would eventually.
*~~*
"You're mine." a deep voice whispered huskily into Kenji's ear, as the owner of that voice traced his hands through the boy's bare hips. "You'll always be mine."
Kenji knew he had replied something along the lines of 'forever'; but it hadn't been him. It was never him anymore. He was forced to sit back, so to speak, and feel every single touch, every violent kiss, without being able to do anything.
It felt like he was being choked to death, while his body, instead of asking for help, kept begging for more. After a while though, when Kenji realised he was not going to die, he just stopped struggling. There was no point; his body wasn't his anymore.
It was hell, every walking hour of living like a puppet, but the boy had to cling to something to keep his sanity so, every time the other would come to him, Kenji would simply remember the time when he'd thought he loved him.
He pushed away the memory of his dead parents, of the beatings and the humilliation. He should have known better than to believe him when he said he loved him so passionately. Coming from him, Kenji should have known it would only end up hurting him.
But how was he supposed to know it would go this far? Maybe, if he wasn't around, he would stop. If Kenji managed to have control for long enough, he could end his own pain and stop him at the same time. If he died, wouldn't that be the perfect revenge? But he didn't want revenge, did he? He loved him.
There was no place for 'what ifs' in his mind anymore. He just imagined that he wasn't being used; that he would have said 'I love you', anyway; even if it hadn't been him the one to say it when the words left his lips.
So he let himself be taken, again, and pretended they were making love like at the beginning. It was better than to admit to himself that the one he'd given himself so completely had betrayed him in such a way.
*~~*
He'd given up in trying to get help from the outside a while back; as loud as his screams were, there was no reply. He could hear the sound of a storm outside, and he knew that would only help drown his cries all the better.
A loud thunder struck somewhere nearby, making the ground shake. It set off the alarm of several cars and Hisoka knew he had to be near the parking lot. That, if he was still inside the school grounds at all, and even then, he didn't know his surroundings well enough to have an idea of where he might be. Surely not the main buildings.
Though his eyes were used to the darkness by then, there wasn't even enough light for him to see the outlines of the objects around him. Every now and then a lightening would give him a second or two of clarity, and he thought he could see shelves with something shiny on them. But that was it. He was in deep, deep shit.
Hisoka cursed under his breath; his headache was edging on monumental, but he refused to give up. He was *not* turning into the next victim; that just *wouldn't* happen. As he struggled, he wondered idly how long it would take them to realise he was gone. Would anyone care?
Surely not his parents. Those two would probably be relieved if he winded up dead. It would even give them an excuse to show off socially just how great parents they'd been, making public their grief in the most pompous way possible. Hisoka wouldn't be surprised if he ended having a monument in the town's square.
His friends? Well, a week ago, he would have said no. But that was different now, wasn't it? There was no use in hoping they'd save him, but Hisoka did feel a little better at knowing that at least *someone* would notice he was gone; eventually.
Not that he was anywhere near giving up, but that thought did help him get a little of his strength back. It might have been useless, but if he had to die trying to free himself, he would. He struggled with his bounds again, but there was no use. They just wouldn't give, as hard as he pulled.
If he'd been tied to a chair, at least he could have tried to topple it over, and hope it would break; but it appeared that he was tied to a column of sorts- one that left him with his shoulders in the most awkward of positions. No use in trying to topple that over, huh?
Hisoka strained his eyes to see something, anything, that would give him a clue as to where he was and if he was alone, just waiting for the next lightening, in hopes this time he'd get a better look. The last thing he remembered was talking to Muraki so, it was natural for him to assume that the white haired boy had found a similar fate as him.
But even if Muraki had been unconscious, there would still be *some* emotions coming from him. And though Hisoka thought he could recognise Muraki's presence at some point, the white haired boy was no longer there.
That left the possibility of whoever it had been that had attacked them, to have taken Muraki somewhere else, to do god knew what. The urgency to get out of there became stronger with that thought. If something happened to Muraki, when he'd been right next to the boy, Hisoka would never forgive himself.
Yet, there was something off with that reasoning. In Muraki's lingering emotions, he couldn't feel any fear or pain. Of course, if the attacker had taken him when he was still unconscious, it would make sense. But it wouldn't explain why he felt amusement in the residual feelings; or why he couldn't pinpoint anyone else ever being there.
The floor creaked, taking Hisoka out of his musings.
It creaked again, and again, and Hisoka knew it was footsteps he was hearing. Should he be relieved, or scared? Well, if it was the attacker that was coming, he already knew Hisoka would want to escape. There would be no surprise if he heard him ask for help, right?
"Hey!! Hey, in here!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, but regretted it a moment later.
A wave of emotion hit him; hard. It was the same amusement from before, and the footsteps ceased. Another lightning hit and Hisoka was able to see the contours of a door this time. Oh, that and a shadow of foots from under it.
The door opened. Hisoka was surprised at how small the room he was in really was. In the darkness it had felt like a never ending void; in reality, it wasn't bigger than a closet. A storage room of sorts, if the crosses and broken images of saints were any indication. He was inside the chapel then? Who was so sick as to tie someone up in a chapel?
What he couldn't see, was the face of the person standing right in front of him.
It was sinister; he couldn't see the vitreaux from where he was, but it was playing with the light behind the mysterious person, dancing in surreal colours with each lightening around his shadow.
Was he, though? Mysterious, that is. Hisoka caught a wisp of white hair and his breath caught on his throat. So, it had been Muraki after all? Why was it that it filled him with sadness?
If Muraki was responsible for his current dilemma, then why? He couldn't feel anything; nothing that would hint a desire to kill him. There was that darkness he'd felt before. He'd felt the turmoil in the white haired boy's heart. Had the darkness finally won?
The lack of emotion coming from him now was very disturbing. All there was, was that freaking amusement that was starting to annoy Hisoka to no end. The idea of Muraki being the psycho was more than plausible, and yet...
He wasn't moving. Muraki just stood there, still, gazing down at him. With the light coming from the outside, Hisoka could now see the boy's face. It was dead; emotionless.
Muraki finally stepped into the room silently. Just two steps forward and he was right in front of him, letting Hisoka get a close up of the boy's knee.
He still couldn't decide if he should fear the boy or not. The circumstances spoke for themselves. There was no way Muraki could have escaped, if there had been someone else. His reason was screaming at him to fear him, but Hisoka's heart told him that he should give the boy the benefit of the doubt.
Hisoka took a shaky breath as Muraki kneeled in front of him, way too close for comfort, straddling his legs that, at the moment, where his only defense. The white haired boy fingered the ropes and from such a close angle, he could see he was thinking hard about something.
"Does it hurt?" Muraki asked, frowning.
What kind of question was that? Yet Muraki's expression was dead serious; almost concerned, even though he couldn't feel anything.
"Yes, it hurts. Will you untie me already?" Muraki didn't lift his eyes to look at him; he just kept on absentmindedly running his fingers through the ropes. Hisoka sighed in relief when he felt Muraki loosening the knots. Maybe he'd been wrong. "Thank god." He whispered, and immediately heard Muraki snort.
"Thank god?" the boy asked curiously. "I don't think god cares one way or the other." Muraki declared, and Hisoka could hear the smile on his voice.
"Shut up and untie me!" he all but snarled.
"It's bleeding." Muraki said, dispassionately, gently caressing the red skin of his wrists. Before Hisoka had time to yelp, Muraki had buried his face on the crook of his neck, depositing a feather-like kiss at the base. "So beautiful." the white haired boy whispered, as he nibbled Hisoka's ear.
"What... What are you doing?!" Hisoka shrieked, as Muraki's hands begun travelling down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing his way down. Hisoka was confused, scared, by the boy's tenderness in that aggressive action, and completely frozen with panic.
'This is not happening, this is not happening!' Hisoka's mind whirled; yet Muraki kept touching him, kept stirring a memory long forgotten and inciting a fear Hisoka knew all too well, although it was the first time he felt it.
"You are so much like him." Muraki ignored him and his obvious discomfort, and went on with his ramblings, interlacing words with kisses. "Both of you took something that belonged to me. Do you think that's fair?"
"I don't know what you're talking about! Let go of me!"
Finally, he reached the last button and oh-so-gently, Muraki slipped the fabric off Hisoka's shoulders; his gaze lingering over his now bare chest with a hungry look. Hisoka felt tears welling up, but they weren't from grief, or fear. Not even humiliation. In truth, he couldn't know why he was crying; why was he making himself look even more defenseless into the other boy's eyes? And why, oh why, couldn't he feel anything from Muraki!?
Muraki brushed Hisoka's bangs thoughtfully, smiling at him, and then leaned to lick the tears away.
"Are you scared? Do you fear I'll hurt you like you hurt me?" the white haired boy's tone was seductive. His hands started caressing his chest and back, slowly, as his lips played patterns on his neck and shoulders.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?! Get *off* me!!"
Hisoka's breathing started to quicken, and it wasn't out of pleasure. Whoever thought that someone could enjoy something like that, as gentle as the rapist could be, was seriously deranged. He tried his best to kick him off. Of course it didn't work, but if he couldn't kick him, at least he'd turn himself into a very uncomfortable seat.
"C'mon;" Muraki purred, "Ask me. Ask me what I'm going to do with you." Hisoka shuddered as Muraki's hands went to unfasten his belt. (**)
"I'm not going to, you freak! I'm not a doll you can play with!" he yelled.
Hisoka held his breath, preparing himself for the worst. And then Muraki stopped. His hands still gripping the buckle, Muraki stared down at it. His fingers started to tremble and Hisoka saw *it*.
It was like being hit in the head all over again; and suddenly he was in a very plush bedroom. There were heavy curtains all around, preventing any light to come from the outside. The room was packed with dolls; all kinds and sizes, and in the middle, a little boy held one in his arms.
There was so much pain, so much loneliness. The boy hugged the doll tighter and kissed its still face.
~'I love you, mom.'~ the boy whispered, and then affecting his voice to make it sound a few tones higher, he held the doll at eye level and moved its head as if it were talking. ~'I love you too, Kazutaka.'~ A solitary tear ran down his face and the perfect white haired boy looked up to meet Hisoka's gaze.
Hisoka was brought back to the 'here' and 'now' by a hard slap hitting his face. He saw Muraki- the seventeen year old Muraki- looking at him with fire in his eyes. Hisoka didn't know if he should be relieved or even more scared, because now he could feel the other boy's anger. And boy, was he angry.
"You little fuck!!" the boy growled, slapping him again and again, until the slaps were punches. "You disgusting son of a bitch! You *had* to take her away from me!! Why?!" Hisoka's head spinned; he was seeing stars from the beating he was receiving, and numbed from the whirlwind of emotions invading him. "She never said it!! She never got to say it!! And it's your fault!!"
One precise punch to his temple, and Hisoka knew no more.
*~~*
The cafeteria was deserted. Tatsumi let the sound of the rain falling outside sooth his battered nerves. They were in severe need of soothing, he mused, absent-mindedly running a finger across his sore jaw. He almost desist of the idea of dinner altogether, because the though of chewing alone sent shivers down his spine. But his stomach won in the end; he'd just have to hang on until tomorrow on a clear broth.
There wasn't a soul around, and Tatsumi was thankful for that; even if it was slightly discomforting. The entire school had taken on the appearance of a set for an old horror movie. Lets just say, he'd never enjoyed those kinds of films.
He remembered then, a game Tsuzuki had forced him to play on several occasions. The boy would whimper and whine until he agreed, grudgily, and they both tried to guess, if their lives were a movie, what characters they would have played. To him the activity was ridiculous and an absolute waste of time.
Now, he thought with a smirk, he found himself thinking about it. If this was a horror movie, then which characters they'd have played suddenly became of utmost importance.
It had taken around two hours to evacuate the school. In any other circumstance, at any other time, it would have probably taken almost an entire day. Tatsumi figured none was eager to stay; and he sure couldn't blame them. The police had been of help, deciding to take the information of every student from the school records, instead of retaining them there until they were finished.
It was just a matter of knowing; if the killer had left with the mass of students, then they weren't part of the cast, so to speak. A shudder ran down his spine; in the event of the killer still being there, they would be the protagonists. Another thunder roared through the schoolyard; Why was it that last option didn't sound so remote?
Yet here he was, eating alone at the cafeteria. It'd been half an hour since he'd realised Tsuzuki wasn't showing his face; why was he still there? Shouldn't he be able to overcome his petty apprehension to make sure the two who mattered most to him were safe and sound? As it was, he actually wanted to get up and face the two boys once and for all; face their hatred should it be any, and find out where he stood.
But between him wanting to go, and him having the courage to do so, there was a huge abyss.
He couldn't honestly regret his actions, though. With time, Tsuzuki would understand. Maybe Watari wouldn't- specially if the blond made the connection between his words the day before and the break up- but it he ended up alone for the rest of his life, then so be it. He would not drag Tsuzuki into a certain hell, just because of his happiness. Tsuzuki deserved better.
A sudden movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Tatsumi turned his head to look through the wide glass doors of the cafeteria that led to the garden. At first, all he could see was the deluge outside but, straining his eyes a little to find what he thought he'd seen, he caught a glimpse of white coming out of the bushes. The white proved to be someone; a very naked someone, that dully stumbled out of his hiding and fell to the ground.
It was a boy, Tatsumi realised, and his heartbeat started to speed up. The boy tried to pull himself up, but his arms gave up on him. Although he was naked, Tatsumi could see something dark on the boy's arms.
The blue eyed boy leapt from his seat, knocking his frugal dinner off the table. It was blood.
"Hisae-san!! (***)" Tatsumi screamed, and a young woman, an orderly, came rushing from the kitchen wearing a startled expression.
"What is it, Tatsumi-kun?" she asked worriedly, though Tatsumi didn't know if she was worried for him, or for her job.
"Call the cops, an ambulance; NOW!"
~Tsuzuku~
(*) I couldn't contain the urge. Sorry for ripping you off Kara *-*;
(**) Muraki's holding *Hisoka's* belt buckle, not his own, so he's actually touching him at that moment. Hence, the empathic-telepathic thingy.
(***) From the 'Last Waltz' Arc. Sorry, I couldn't help myself, again -.-;.
Answer to those little things that fill my hear with joy and my ego with air. eh...yeah, Reviews. Oh, BTW. It's possible this chappie will get this fic to 200 reviews *faint* So, whoever gets the 200, gets a price, ok?
Kara Angitia: See? I paid the price! No vengeance now, right? And no worries, no one can possibly review *every* chappy! Hugs.
LYK: Oh, I'm so glad no one threw something at me because of Midori being Hijiri!! *phew* But does it make sense? I know it was a surprise but I tried to keep him IC as much as I could under the circumstances (like, him being that much older and all) Just between you and me, and it's the last I'm saying about the subject, I was afraid because I never seem to feel the same way about stuff as other people do, so I wasn't sure people perceived their own cutting as I did, so I was kinda relieved I didn't screw that up. *sigh* Hugs friend.
Mel-chan: Hey there! *waves* Did it go well? The singing thingy? I'm glad I helped, if only a little!! *chuckles* More Muriya next time, I promise. You didn't think the last Muriya scene was a bit sappy? I don't do sap very well, I don't know why. Same with lemon, heh heh. Huggles.
dodger-chan: I didn't review "That which isn't sex", because I was afraid I'd seem a tad stalkerish. But I loved it. I just wonder if you were going through an angsty phase? So sad!! T.T You'd be surprised at how often I forget about eating and sleeping because of writing! lol, I can be very obsessive. Glad you liked Hijiri and Aome, I'm starting to grow fond of those two li'l buggers. Hugs.
Loki's Rose: Eeep! Multiple review!! *dances around in glee* The idea of a beta reader makes me skittish; I don't wanna impose on someone like that, but if I ever reconsider, you'll be the first I'd call :D Yes, I wanted to make it clear that Tatsumi *did* love Tsuzuki. If you ignore that little fact and jump straight to Tatari, it would be...nice, but unreal? I dunno. Yes, Muraki is a sneaky little thing, ne? It's more fun like this! Phew on you liking Aome. She was a necessary character, since shinigami work in pairs. And phew on you finding out it was Hijiri and not being disappointed!! I'll torture Hisoka and Watari a li'l more *mwahahaha* Hugs.
Nsib: Lol, sorry, but torturing 'Soka was just too tempting! He is a sorta problem magnet, huh? You thought it was nostalgic, the part with Hijiri? I guess it was... Anyway, hugs!
Mayu Kawaii: Ok, ok! Prometo que voy a tratar que Muraki no haga llorar a Ori-chan tanto!! Pero no me ahorques al psicópata o me quedo sin argumento!! *chuckle* Un abrazo y gracias por el review!
Kurikuri: Oi! You really played the Kreutzer? *envious* It's one of my favourite pieces of music. I took violin a while back, but quit after just a year- stupid me- I still have it, the violin. Hijiri's story is sad; makes me wanna hug him, poor thing. Anyway, I should stop rambling, heh heh. Hugs and thanks for that gorgeous kawaii chibiness-filled drawing!!
Kyraille Fade: Oh, I don't believe in fate either. At least not the, what you are is already destined, kinda destiny. But I don't mind playing with it in fics. Still, not everything is written about Muraki. Things are about to get even more interesting for him, I think. And yes, I still don't know how all the Tatari fans have managed to wait so long, but things are happening. Soon. Huggles you silly.
Schatten Wonderwolf: Ah, no! No te lo mencione para q' dejaras un review! Solo que se prestaba por el comentario que habías hecho de Tatsumi/Muraki. Igual, que suerte que te gusto. Creo que ese día estaba hipersensible o algo. Quiero decir, de 195 reviews para este fic, ni una es mala. No se de que me quejo. Aunque no sera malo? Que ni una sola persona me haya dicho que esto es horrible? Ya veo, todos ustedes estan conspirando para hacerme creer que la historia es buena!! *risa maniaca* Oriya es torturable, que suerte que Hijiri te pareció bien, yay por los cambios de escena...me falta algo? Me encantan los reviews largos! Aunque cortos no me molestan para nada *-* Nos vemos later, el capitulo de 'The 'g'.., no esta listo todavia. Mañana, o pasado a mas tardar. Besos.
lyn: Gracias de nuevo por el fanart!*squeak* Los capítulos de transición apestan, ne? Pero si, se viene el desenlace. Aunque con lo que tardo la introducción y el nudo, puede que falten otros diez capitulos? lol- La verdad, la mitad sabia que Midori era Hijiri, la otra mitad se sorprendió, asi que vos estas bien *.* En cuanto a Muraki y su 'futuro', no afirmo ni niego nada. Solo te puedo decir que nada esta dicho, heh heh (soy mala) Hey, si se ve a la legua que Tats esta re enamorado de Tsu; lo que no me convence es que Tsu lo quiera a Tats... es triste, pero Tsu solo le causa dolor a mi secretario favorito. Acerca del icono de LD, tiene que ser en ingles la frase? Que tal, " Is that hope in your eyes, Kazahaya?" Aunque sigo sosteniendo que "Your fly is open", es la mejor opcion, lol. Voy a seguir pensando en una, *mumble* No me molestan los reviews largos. Para nada!! Je je, cuanto mas largo mejor!! BTW, leiste Tsubasa? Yo estoy medio renuente. Soy re fanática de CCS, y ese manga me da miedo. Esta Touya siquiera? Hugs.
xXLi'l Yu JahXx: Now you know what happened to 'Soka. Heh heh. Anyway, semi-onesided relationship I think it's the best way to describe Muriya. Because it is one sided, but...not, quite? Huggles.
azdriel: Muraki me da pena, aun en el canon. No me voy a poner a explicar porque, tengo una imagen ke mantener. Pero no todo esta dicho... Que suerte que adivinaste!! No te pareció que estaba extremadamente OOC? Besos!!!
Ja Ne!
Hello there! This instalment came almost in time, ne?
WARNING: (oh, wow, I never give out warnings ^-^) This chapter has two references to NON-CON. I think is mildly limish. But it's mild, there are no anatomic descriptions or anything, and I didn't use the word 'hardened', or 'engorged', so I'm safe.
Another thing, I have two pieces of fanart (I have fanart, I have fanart! *faints*) that Lyn and Kurikuri made for this fic.
Go to:
Enjoy!!
A SMILE UPON MY FACE
A burst of lilac light filled the halls, only to be followed by a loud explosion a moment later. Hijiri shuddered; just a few minutes before, he'd been able to count to five between the lightning and the thunder. The storm was getting closer.
"The boy is ok, so is his friend." He heard the voice in front of him before the owner's form had finished corporizing. "They're heading towards Tsuzuki's room now. The demon is nowhere near here."
Hijiri hesitated. He didn't want to sound overprotective.
"Do you... do you think we should follow them?"
Aome smothered some invisible wrinkle from her shirt and shrugged.
"If the demon was going to attack, don't you think he would have already?"
"I also find it hard to believe he would wait so long to strike. Tsuzuki is completely defenseless." his voice was soft, frail almost, and he didn't like it. "But I guess you're right, ne? Maybe he changed his mind? Maybe he's not interested anymore?"
"Maybe..." Aome said doubtfully, as she clung to his arm and they both begun walking to inspect their next target. Never mind that every time they finished one spot, they returned to check on Tsuzuki. "I just think maybe we're missing something. There's just something in the air, you know?"
"Can you sense anything? Have you seen anything?" As calmed as his tone was, Hijiri was shaking inside. He already knew the answer to that.
"Look around, Jii-san." she answered wearily "I don't think even the storm is natural."
It was true; he doubted he would have needed his 'eye-sight' to be able to see just how much dark energy was sparkling through the air. But as it was, he could see the black sprouts of energy surrounding them.
"Whatever is going to happen, it's happening soon." Hijiri said, mostly to himself.
Aome subconsciously gripped his arm tighter.
"If we don't find him..." she trailed off, her voice trembling slightly.
"I know. He'll find us."
"Aren't you scared? I... Well, fuck, I am!" she let out in frustration, and Hijiri almost laughs. Almost.
"Yeah, sure I am! That's ok, though. If you still get scared, it means you're still sane." He smiled kindly at her, she huffed.
"What's the worst that could happen? We're already dead, it's not like he can kill us. Right?"
Ah, but shinigami weren't invulnerable! Hijiri thought and frowned. They could feel pain, they could suffer; they could see their loved ones get hurt. And yes, they could be killed, should the opponent prove strong enough. Not that Hijiri feared this demon was. Demons usually were the easiest to dispose. Humans were worse. What he feared, had always feared, was to cause more damage than good; to hurt those he was supposed to protect. And this time, the stakes were just too high for his liking.
But he wasn't about to tell the girl that. She was new, young, her reasons still fresh in her mind and heart filling her with a sort of eagerness and energy he wasn't sure he still possessed. She didn't have to know about the downs when she hadn't even experienced the ups.
"Somehow, I don't find your silence very reassuring." The girl scolded, shaking Hijiri from his thoughts.
"Oh, no! Sorry, I got side-tracked!" He smiled sheepishly, she huffed again.
"Yeah, whatever." she yanked his arm forcefully "Get moving, grandpa. How many rooms left?"
"Eight. And we still need to find some of the kids that didn't report, nor left. I'm not worried though. Surely they just forgot. Kids today!" he sighed, as an old man would, and laughed at his own silliness. Well, he was an old man, wasn't he?
*~~*
Watari hugged his friend's neck and shoulders tighter, minding not to choke him, as the soothing rhythm of Tsuzuki's footsteps threatened to make him fall asleep on the spot.
When he was little, his mom had told him that it rained when angels cried because people were hurting. Almost all moms told their kids the same thing so, from a very early age, Watari had formed his own theory and decided that it was actualy angels having bubble baths and splashing water all over the earth. It was more comforting to believe the angels were having fun instead of crying over silly humans, so it made him feel better about storms.
Now he knew what caused rain. It had been almost disappointing to learn about cloud condensation. But at that moment his mother's first explanation didn't sound so silly after all.
As a man... ok, boy, of science, he also knew that crying was a way for the body to sooth it's owner when they were hurting too much. There were all kinds of chemicals in the tears themselves, that calmed you down when you cried.
It left you groggy, sedated, just as nature was after a strong rain; deadly calm and comforting. So, maybe it wasn't angels crying after all, but rain and tears didn't feel so different from where he stood.
He was starting to feel it, the drowsiness after having cried for nearly half an hour straight- to Tsuzuki's bafflement and distress. Now he felt strangely, inappropriately, good. Calmed.
Riding on someone's back was something you did when you were five, eight at the most. Not fifteen. Yet, in spite of all of Watari's attempts to abandon his childish image, he wouldn't have traded that moment for the world. Tsuzuki didn't seem to mind the weight- Watari was skinny, after all- and the blond found that being treated like a child wasn't so bad when you were feeling so awful.
Watari wanted to smack himself, remembering the tender way his best friend had talked him through his uncontrollable sobs, unaware of the fact that his kindness was causing them to come out harder each time. But the blond had managed to calm down, upon the promise of a banana milkshake if he did so. (*)
Tsuzuki was too good, too kind. Soothing him, comforting him, when his own heart had been breaking. When it was him the one who needed comfort.
Would he still treat him so kindly if he knew the blond had secretely wished for them to break up so many times before? Would they still be friends if he knew his part on the break up? Watari wasn't sure they were friends still; even if Tsuzuki was oblivious of how much of a bastard he was, Watari knew, and that was enough.
'Please, forgive me.' he thought, snuggling closer to his friend and resting his chin on Tsuzuki's shoulder.
The older boy made an awkward movement with his neck, that allowed him to kiss the top of Watari's head.
"Feeling better?" Tsuzuki cooed.
"Uh-huh" the blond mumbled, feeling the knot re-forming on his throat. But no, he would not cry again. At least for Tsuzuki's sake, he'd keep it all inside.
"Good. Now, are you going to tell me what was that all about? You'd think you were the one who got dumped!" there was no reproach in Tsuzuki's tone; just humour. Humour and concern for his well-being, and Watari wanted to crawl into a dark corner and die.
"No." he answered simply.
That took Tsuzuki aback, apparently, because he stopped on his tracks.
"No?" he asked, surprised and just a bit hurt.
"I don't wanna talk about it now." 'Or ever' he finished in his mind.
"I see." The older boy seemed to accept that as an answer, he just resumed his walk and said nothing for a while.
'I'm a coward', Watari sighed. 'I should just tell him the truth.'
"Tsuzuki?" 'No, I can't tell him! He'll hate me!'
"Yes?" Tsuzuki's tone was hopeful.
"Did... Did Tatsumi tell you why... why...?"
"Yes. He thinks... " he sighed, his voice breaking. "He thinks he's no good for me, or some crap like that. I'm not angry with him. I wish I could talk to him right now."
'So do I.' He had a thing or two to say to the blue eyed boy, and no, none of them were 'I love you'. What was he thinking? What had made him lose his mind like that? And he sure as hell was going to ask him what he'd meant the day before. If Watari's suspicions were correct and Tatsumi, indeed, loved someone else...
'He loves me.' he thought, in a mixture of happiness and anger. He shook that thought away.
"Tsu?"
"Yes?"
"How much... I mean. " Watari took a deep breath. "How much would you be able to forgive?"
Tsuzuki stopped walking again, though this time, he knelt down to deposit Watari on the ground, next to the wall and 003- who'd been riding on Tsuzuki's left shoulder- next to him. Watari, recognising that his words had probably been a mistake and there was no way Tsuzuki wasn't going to ask about it now, leaned his back to the wall and sighed tiredly.
Tsuzuki knelt in front of him and brushed some rebellious hairs out of Watari's face. With the most gentle of smiles, he spoke.
"Explain."
Watari lowered his eyes.
"What if... Would you still be my friend if I mess up real bad?"
"Watari," Tsuzuki cupped his chin with one hand, forcing him to look up. "No matter what, you'll always be my friend."
"But what if...! What if I did something awful!!" The blond cried, feeling the tears forming again.
Tsuzuki pulled him in for a hug.
"'Tari, I don't care. I love you. I might be angry, but I'll always love you, ok?"
"Ok," Watari sniffed. There was no way Tsuzuki had taken his question as hypothetical. Tsuzuki had all but forgiven him, without even knowing what had happened!! He might have doubted it, because what he'd done -what had he done, exactly?- had been too awful. But he'd never doubt Tsuzuki; he was many things, but a hypocrite wasn't one of them. "I love you too, you know?"
"Yeah, I know. Now," Tsuzuki pulled out of the embrace and brushed Watari's bangs out of his face. "I don't ever wanna see your face so sad again. It's scary!!"
Watari snorted.
"I guess I've been a little hormone-ish lately, haven't I?"
"Yes! And not only you! Everyone, even me!" Tsuzuki said, mock horror. "Do you think there's something in the food? Please, not the food!!"
"Baka!" Watari swatted his arm. Not too hard though. He then sighed and shook his head. "We should go find Hisoka, huh? If he still waiting for you, he's probably grown roots instead of feet."
"Oh!" Tsuzuki's eyes glimmered suspiciously. "Wouldn't he make a cute tree? With all kinds of pretty flowers on his head? Though he's kinda short for a tree. Maybe a bush?"
"Baka." Watari laughed.
It was so easy to feel better around Tsuzuki. Watari just hoped his friend would actually forgive him, should he find out the truth. No; *when* he found the truth, because the blond knew he would eventually.
*~~*
"You're mine." a deep voice whispered huskily into Kenji's ear, as the owner of that voice traced his hands through the boy's bare hips. "You'll always be mine."
Kenji knew he had replied something along the lines of 'forever'; but it hadn't been him. It was never him anymore. He was forced to sit back, so to speak, and feel every single touch, every violent kiss, without being able to do anything.
It felt like he was being choked to death, while his body, instead of asking for help, kept begging for more. After a while though, when Kenji realised he was not going to die, he just stopped struggling. There was no point; his body wasn't his anymore.
It was hell, every walking hour of living like a puppet, but the boy had to cling to something to keep his sanity so, every time the other would come to him, Kenji would simply remember the time when he'd thought he loved him.
He pushed away the memory of his dead parents, of the beatings and the humilliation. He should have known better than to believe him when he said he loved him so passionately. Coming from him, Kenji should have known it would only end up hurting him.
But how was he supposed to know it would go this far? Maybe, if he wasn't around, he would stop. If Kenji managed to have control for long enough, he could end his own pain and stop him at the same time. If he died, wouldn't that be the perfect revenge? But he didn't want revenge, did he? He loved him.
There was no place for 'what ifs' in his mind anymore. He just imagined that he wasn't being used; that he would have said 'I love you', anyway; even if it hadn't been him the one to say it when the words left his lips.
So he let himself be taken, again, and pretended they were making love like at the beginning. It was better than to admit to himself that the one he'd given himself so completely had betrayed him in such a way.
*~~*
He'd given up in trying to get help from the outside a while back; as loud as his screams were, there was no reply. He could hear the sound of a storm outside, and he knew that would only help drown his cries all the better.
A loud thunder struck somewhere nearby, making the ground shake. It set off the alarm of several cars and Hisoka knew he had to be near the parking lot. That, if he was still inside the school grounds at all, and even then, he didn't know his surroundings well enough to have an idea of where he might be. Surely not the main buildings.
Though his eyes were used to the darkness by then, there wasn't even enough light for him to see the outlines of the objects around him. Every now and then a lightening would give him a second or two of clarity, and he thought he could see shelves with something shiny on them. But that was it. He was in deep, deep shit.
Hisoka cursed under his breath; his headache was edging on monumental, but he refused to give up. He was *not* turning into the next victim; that just *wouldn't* happen. As he struggled, he wondered idly how long it would take them to realise he was gone. Would anyone care?
Surely not his parents. Those two would probably be relieved if he winded up dead. It would even give them an excuse to show off socially just how great parents they'd been, making public their grief in the most pompous way possible. Hisoka wouldn't be surprised if he ended having a monument in the town's square.
His friends? Well, a week ago, he would have said no. But that was different now, wasn't it? There was no use in hoping they'd save him, but Hisoka did feel a little better at knowing that at least *someone* would notice he was gone; eventually.
Not that he was anywhere near giving up, but that thought did help him get a little of his strength back. It might have been useless, but if he had to die trying to free himself, he would. He struggled with his bounds again, but there was no use. They just wouldn't give, as hard as he pulled.
If he'd been tied to a chair, at least he could have tried to topple it over, and hope it would break; but it appeared that he was tied to a column of sorts- one that left him with his shoulders in the most awkward of positions. No use in trying to topple that over, huh?
Hisoka strained his eyes to see something, anything, that would give him a clue as to where he was and if he was alone, just waiting for the next lightening, in hopes this time he'd get a better look. The last thing he remembered was talking to Muraki so, it was natural for him to assume that the white haired boy had found a similar fate as him.
But even if Muraki had been unconscious, there would still be *some* emotions coming from him. And though Hisoka thought he could recognise Muraki's presence at some point, the white haired boy was no longer there.
That left the possibility of whoever it had been that had attacked them, to have taken Muraki somewhere else, to do god knew what. The urgency to get out of there became stronger with that thought. If something happened to Muraki, when he'd been right next to the boy, Hisoka would never forgive himself.
Yet, there was something off with that reasoning. In Muraki's lingering emotions, he couldn't feel any fear or pain. Of course, if the attacker had taken him when he was still unconscious, it would make sense. But it wouldn't explain why he felt amusement in the residual feelings; or why he couldn't pinpoint anyone else ever being there.
The floor creaked, taking Hisoka out of his musings.
It creaked again, and again, and Hisoka knew it was footsteps he was hearing. Should he be relieved, or scared? Well, if it was the attacker that was coming, he already knew Hisoka would want to escape. There would be no surprise if he heard him ask for help, right?
"Hey!! Hey, in here!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, but regretted it a moment later.
A wave of emotion hit him; hard. It was the same amusement from before, and the footsteps ceased. Another lightning hit and Hisoka was able to see the contours of a door this time. Oh, that and a shadow of foots from under it.
The door opened. Hisoka was surprised at how small the room he was in really was. In the darkness it had felt like a never ending void; in reality, it wasn't bigger than a closet. A storage room of sorts, if the crosses and broken images of saints were any indication. He was inside the chapel then? Who was so sick as to tie someone up in a chapel?
What he couldn't see, was the face of the person standing right in front of him.
It was sinister; he couldn't see the vitreaux from where he was, but it was playing with the light behind the mysterious person, dancing in surreal colours with each lightening around his shadow.
Was he, though? Mysterious, that is. Hisoka caught a wisp of white hair and his breath caught on his throat. So, it had been Muraki after all? Why was it that it filled him with sadness?
If Muraki was responsible for his current dilemma, then why? He couldn't feel anything; nothing that would hint a desire to kill him. There was that darkness he'd felt before. He'd felt the turmoil in the white haired boy's heart. Had the darkness finally won?
The lack of emotion coming from him now was very disturbing. All there was, was that freaking amusement that was starting to annoy Hisoka to no end. The idea of Muraki being the psycho was more than plausible, and yet...
He wasn't moving. Muraki just stood there, still, gazing down at him. With the light coming from the outside, Hisoka could now see the boy's face. It was dead; emotionless.
Muraki finally stepped into the room silently. Just two steps forward and he was right in front of him, letting Hisoka get a close up of the boy's knee.
He still couldn't decide if he should fear the boy or not. The circumstances spoke for themselves. There was no way Muraki could have escaped, if there had been someone else. His reason was screaming at him to fear him, but Hisoka's heart told him that he should give the boy the benefit of the doubt.
Hisoka took a shaky breath as Muraki kneeled in front of him, way too close for comfort, straddling his legs that, at the moment, where his only defense. The white haired boy fingered the ropes and from such a close angle, he could see he was thinking hard about something.
"Does it hurt?" Muraki asked, frowning.
What kind of question was that? Yet Muraki's expression was dead serious; almost concerned, even though he couldn't feel anything.
"Yes, it hurts. Will you untie me already?" Muraki didn't lift his eyes to look at him; he just kept on absentmindedly running his fingers through the ropes. Hisoka sighed in relief when he felt Muraki loosening the knots. Maybe he'd been wrong. "Thank god." He whispered, and immediately heard Muraki snort.
"Thank god?" the boy asked curiously. "I don't think god cares one way or the other." Muraki declared, and Hisoka could hear the smile on his voice.
"Shut up and untie me!" he all but snarled.
"It's bleeding." Muraki said, dispassionately, gently caressing the red skin of his wrists. Before Hisoka had time to yelp, Muraki had buried his face on the crook of his neck, depositing a feather-like kiss at the base. "So beautiful." the white haired boy whispered, as he nibbled Hisoka's ear.
"What... What are you doing?!" Hisoka shrieked, as Muraki's hands begun travelling down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing his way down. Hisoka was confused, scared, by the boy's tenderness in that aggressive action, and completely frozen with panic.
'This is not happening, this is not happening!' Hisoka's mind whirled; yet Muraki kept touching him, kept stirring a memory long forgotten and inciting a fear Hisoka knew all too well, although it was the first time he felt it.
"You are so much like him." Muraki ignored him and his obvious discomfort, and went on with his ramblings, interlacing words with kisses. "Both of you took something that belonged to me. Do you think that's fair?"
"I don't know what you're talking about! Let go of me!"
Finally, he reached the last button and oh-so-gently, Muraki slipped the fabric off Hisoka's shoulders; his gaze lingering over his now bare chest with a hungry look. Hisoka felt tears welling up, but they weren't from grief, or fear. Not even humiliation. In truth, he couldn't know why he was crying; why was he making himself look even more defenseless into the other boy's eyes? And why, oh why, couldn't he feel anything from Muraki!?
Muraki brushed Hisoka's bangs thoughtfully, smiling at him, and then leaned to lick the tears away.
"Are you scared? Do you fear I'll hurt you like you hurt me?" the white haired boy's tone was seductive. His hands started caressing his chest and back, slowly, as his lips played patterns on his neck and shoulders.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?! Get *off* me!!"
Hisoka's breathing started to quicken, and it wasn't out of pleasure. Whoever thought that someone could enjoy something like that, as gentle as the rapist could be, was seriously deranged. He tried his best to kick him off. Of course it didn't work, but if he couldn't kick him, at least he'd turn himself into a very uncomfortable seat.
"C'mon;" Muraki purred, "Ask me. Ask me what I'm going to do with you." Hisoka shuddered as Muraki's hands went to unfasten his belt. (**)
"I'm not going to, you freak! I'm not a doll you can play with!" he yelled.
Hisoka held his breath, preparing himself for the worst. And then Muraki stopped. His hands still gripping the buckle, Muraki stared down at it. His fingers started to tremble and Hisoka saw *it*.
It was like being hit in the head all over again; and suddenly he was in a very plush bedroom. There were heavy curtains all around, preventing any light to come from the outside. The room was packed with dolls; all kinds and sizes, and in the middle, a little boy held one in his arms.
There was so much pain, so much loneliness. The boy hugged the doll tighter and kissed its still face.
~'I love you, mom.'~ the boy whispered, and then affecting his voice to make it sound a few tones higher, he held the doll at eye level and moved its head as if it were talking. ~'I love you too, Kazutaka.'~ A solitary tear ran down his face and the perfect white haired boy looked up to meet Hisoka's gaze.
Hisoka was brought back to the 'here' and 'now' by a hard slap hitting his face. He saw Muraki- the seventeen year old Muraki- looking at him with fire in his eyes. Hisoka didn't know if he should be relieved or even more scared, because now he could feel the other boy's anger. And boy, was he angry.
"You little fuck!!" the boy growled, slapping him again and again, until the slaps were punches. "You disgusting son of a bitch! You *had* to take her away from me!! Why?!" Hisoka's head spinned; he was seeing stars from the beating he was receiving, and numbed from the whirlwind of emotions invading him. "She never said it!! She never got to say it!! And it's your fault!!"
One precise punch to his temple, and Hisoka knew no more.
*~~*
The cafeteria was deserted. Tatsumi let the sound of the rain falling outside sooth his battered nerves. They were in severe need of soothing, he mused, absent-mindedly running a finger across his sore jaw. He almost desist of the idea of dinner altogether, because the though of chewing alone sent shivers down his spine. But his stomach won in the end; he'd just have to hang on until tomorrow on a clear broth.
There wasn't a soul around, and Tatsumi was thankful for that; even if it was slightly discomforting. The entire school had taken on the appearance of a set for an old horror movie. Lets just say, he'd never enjoyed those kinds of films.
He remembered then, a game Tsuzuki had forced him to play on several occasions. The boy would whimper and whine until he agreed, grudgily, and they both tried to guess, if their lives were a movie, what characters they would have played. To him the activity was ridiculous and an absolute waste of time.
Now, he thought with a smirk, he found himself thinking about it. If this was a horror movie, then which characters they'd have played suddenly became of utmost importance.
It had taken around two hours to evacuate the school. In any other circumstance, at any other time, it would have probably taken almost an entire day. Tatsumi figured none was eager to stay; and he sure couldn't blame them. The police had been of help, deciding to take the information of every student from the school records, instead of retaining them there until they were finished.
It was just a matter of knowing; if the killer had left with the mass of students, then they weren't part of the cast, so to speak. A shudder ran down his spine; in the event of the killer still being there, they would be the protagonists. Another thunder roared through the schoolyard; Why was it that last option didn't sound so remote?
Yet here he was, eating alone at the cafeteria. It'd been half an hour since he'd realised Tsuzuki wasn't showing his face; why was he still there? Shouldn't he be able to overcome his petty apprehension to make sure the two who mattered most to him were safe and sound? As it was, he actually wanted to get up and face the two boys once and for all; face their hatred should it be any, and find out where he stood.
But between him wanting to go, and him having the courage to do so, there was a huge abyss.
He couldn't honestly regret his actions, though. With time, Tsuzuki would understand. Maybe Watari wouldn't- specially if the blond made the connection between his words the day before and the break up- but it he ended up alone for the rest of his life, then so be it. He would not drag Tsuzuki into a certain hell, just because of his happiness. Tsuzuki deserved better.
A sudden movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Tatsumi turned his head to look through the wide glass doors of the cafeteria that led to the garden. At first, all he could see was the deluge outside but, straining his eyes a little to find what he thought he'd seen, he caught a glimpse of white coming out of the bushes. The white proved to be someone; a very naked someone, that dully stumbled out of his hiding and fell to the ground.
It was a boy, Tatsumi realised, and his heartbeat started to speed up. The boy tried to pull himself up, but his arms gave up on him. Although he was naked, Tatsumi could see something dark on the boy's arms.
The blue eyed boy leapt from his seat, knocking his frugal dinner off the table. It was blood.
"Hisae-san!! (***)" Tatsumi screamed, and a young woman, an orderly, came rushing from the kitchen wearing a startled expression.
"What is it, Tatsumi-kun?" she asked worriedly, though Tatsumi didn't know if she was worried for him, or for her job.
"Call the cops, an ambulance; NOW!"
~Tsuzuku~
(*) I couldn't contain the urge. Sorry for ripping you off Kara *-*;
(**) Muraki's holding *Hisoka's* belt buckle, not his own, so he's actually touching him at that moment. Hence, the empathic-telepathic thingy.
(***) From the 'Last Waltz' Arc. Sorry, I couldn't help myself, again -.-;.
Answer to those little things that fill my hear with joy and my ego with air. eh...yeah, Reviews. Oh, BTW. It's possible this chappie will get this fic to 200 reviews *faint* So, whoever gets the 200, gets a price, ok?
Kara Angitia: See? I paid the price! No vengeance now, right? And no worries, no one can possibly review *every* chappy! Hugs.
LYK: Oh, I'm so glad no one threw something at me because of Midori being Hijiri!! *phew* But does it make sense? I know it was a surprise but I tried to keep him IC as much as I could under the circumstances (like, him being that much older and all) Just between you and me, and it's the last I'm saying about the subject, I was afraid because I never seem to feel the same way about stuff as other people do, so I wasn't sure people perceived their own cutting as I did, so I was kinda relieved I didn't screw that up. *sigh* Hugs friend.
Mel-chan: Hey there! *waves* Did it go well? The singing thingy? I'm glad I helped, if only a little!! *chuckles* More Muriya next time, I promise. You didn't think the last Muriya scene was a bit sappy? I don't do sap very well, I don't know why. Same with lemon, heh heh. Huggles.
dodger-chan: I didn't review "That which isn't sex", because I was afraid I'd seem a tad stalkerish. But I loved it. I just wonder if you were going through an angsty phase? So sad!! T.T You'd be surprised at how often I forget about eating and sleeping because of writing! lol, I can be very obsessive. Glad you liked Hijiri and Aome, I'm starting to grow fond of those two li'l buggers. Hugs.
Loki's Rose: Eeep! Multiple review!! *dances around in glee* The idea of a beta reader makes me skittish; I don't wanna impose on someone like that, but if I ever reconsider, you'll be the first I'd call :D Yes, I wanted to make it clear that Tatsumi *did* love Tsuzuki. If you ignore that little fact and jump straight to Tatari, it would be...nice, but unreal? I dunno. Yes, Muraki is a sneaky little thing, ne? It's more fun like this! Phew on you liking Aome. She was a necessary character, since shinigami work in pairs. And phew on you finding out it was Hijiri and not being disappointed!! I'll torture Hisoka and Watari a li'l more *mwahahaha* Hugs.
Nsib: Lol, sorry, but torturing 'Soka was just too tempting! He is a sorta problem magnet, huh? You thought it was nostalgic, the part with Hijiri? I guess it was... Anyway, hugs!
Mayu Kawaii: Ok, ok! Prometo que voy a tratar que Muraki no haga llorar a Ori-chan tanto!! Pero no me ahorques al psicópata o me quedo sin argumento!! *chuckle* Un abrazo y gracias por el review!
Kurikuri: Oi! You really played the Kreutzer? *envious* It's one of my favourite pieces of music. I took violin a while back, but quit after just a year- stupid me- I still have it, the violin. Hijiri's story is sad; makes me wanna hug him, poor thing. Anyway, I should stop rambling, heh heh. Hugs and thanks for that gorgeous kawaii chibiness-filled drawing!!
Kyraille Fade: Oh, I don't believe in fate either. At least not the, what you are is already destined, kinda destiny. But I don't mind playing with it in fics. Still, not everything is written about Muraki. Things are about to get even more interesting for him, I think. And yes, I still don't know how all the Tatari fans have managed to wait so long, but things are happening. Soon. Huggles you silly.
Schatten Wonderwolf: Ah, no! No te lo mencione para q' dejaras un review! Solo que se prestaba por el comentario que habías hecho de Tatsumi/Muraki. Igual, que suerte que te gusto. Creo que ese día estaba hipersensible o algo. Quiero decir, de 195 reviews para este fic, ni una es mala. No se de que me quejo. Aunque no sera malo? Que ni una sola persona me haya dicho que esto es horrible? Ya veo, todos ustedes estan conspirando para hacerme creer que la historia es buena!! *risa maniaca* Oriya es torturable, que suerte que Hijiri te pareció bien, yay por los cambios de escena...me falta algo? Me encantan los reviews largos! Aunque cortos no me molestan para nada *-* Nos vemos later, el capitulo de 'The 'g'.., no esta listo todavia. Mañana, o pasado a mas tardar. Besos.
lyn: Gracias de nuevo por el fanart!*squeak* Los capítulos de transición apestan, ne? Pero si, se viene el desenlace. Aunque con lo que tardo la introducción y el nudo, puede que falten otros diez capitulos? lol- La verdad, la mitad sabia que Midori era Hijiri, la otra mitad se sorprendió, asi que vos estas bien *.* En cuanto a Muraki y su 'futuro', no afirmo ni niego nada. Solo te puedo decir que nada esta dicho, heh heh (soy mala) Hey, si se ve a la legua que Tats esta re enamorado de Tsu; lo que no me convence es que Tsu lo quiera a Tats... es triste, pero Tsu solo le causa dolor a mi secretario favorito. Acerca del icono de LD, tiene que ser en ingles la frase? Que tal, " Is that hope in your eyes, Kazahaya?" Aunque sigo sosteniendo que "Your fly is open", es la mejor opcion, lol. Voy a seguir pensando en una, *mumble* No me molestan los reviews largos. Para nada!! Je je, cuanto mas largo mejor!! BTW, leiste Tsubasa? Yo estoy medio renuente. Soy re fanática de CCS, y ese manga me da miedo. Esta Touya siquiera? Hugs.
xXLi'l Yu JahXx: Now you know what happened to 'Soka. Heh heh. Anyway, semi-onesided relationship I think it's the best way to describe Muriya. Because it is one sided, but...not, quite? Huggles.
azdriel: Muraki me da pena, aun en el canon. No me voy a poner a explicar porque, tengo una imagen ke mantener. Pero no todo esta dicho... Que suerte que adivinaste!! No te pareció que estaba extremadamente OOC? Besos!!!
Ja Ne!