A/N: I don't seem to update as often as I used to anymore, ne? sigh I'll see what I can do about that. Another thing is, last chapter I put the links to those fanarts Lyn and Kurikuri had done, but they didn't show, for some reason. And now it won't let me upload the chapter if there's a link. I'll se what I'll do about that.
Enjoy!
A SMILE UPON MY FACE
Thick, cold raindrops hit Tatsumi's face with a vengeance, He didn't know if it was him or reality, but he couldn't remember rain falling quite as hard in all his life. The mere sound of it was enough to drown any attempted thoughts. Not that he would have been able to think otherwise.
All he could see was the boy's face. The empty expression on it was entrancing, in a morbid sort of way. It was so familiar, and yet he couldn't quite place it. Of course, he knew the boy; he'd surely seen him before. What was it about that boy...?
His eyes caught a sight of the puddle forming underneath him. The entire park was muddy beyond belief, but this was a definitively different kind of puddle. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him, but the mud underneath him was turning awfully red.
That was enough to shake him out of his daze. As cold as it was, he didn't hesitate to take off both his blazer and tie. His blazer- now soaked- went immediately around the naked, shivering form before him. The tie was soon wrapped tightly around the boy's wounded wrist.At least he was still alive, Tatsumi mused, watching this virtual stranger shake almost convulsively as he stared with his big black eyes into nothingness. He was a stranger, wasn't he? Tatsumi remembered seeing him... he had the name at the tip of his tongue and, if his brain had been working properly, he would have surely remembered by then.
But it wasn't that what struck him as familiar, he realised. The surreal sense he was getting from the entire ordeal had nothing to do with who was actually in front of him.
Those eyes, that lost expression... why did it hurt so much to look at them? He tried to shake those feelings away and focus on stopping the bleeding, but just wrapping up the wound was enough to knock the air out of his lungs.
"You did this... didn't you?" he whispered to the unresponsive boy. "You did this to yourself."
He, at least subconsciously, knew exactly of whom he was thinking about. But he didn't want to imagine- not even for a split second- that he had ever looked so lost- so gone.
Yet he knew... he had done the same thing. Several times. And the most disturbing part of all, what was hitting him so hard, was that although he wanted to convince himself that he didn't understand how someone could be so stupid as to do something like that, he knew very well the kind of emotions that could drive a person over the edge like that.
He'd felt like doing it himself a few times. He'd never done it, though; never even tried to try. But that didn't mean he was stronger than them; it only meant those feelings were stronger in them. And the sole idea of those feelings reaching such an intensity that they would actually win, left him breathless.
Tatsumi numbly picked the boy up, intending to take him back inside and out of harm's way when Hisae-san ran out, pale as a sheet and fretting horribly.
"They say the roads are closed, Tatsumi-kun! The ambulance can't get here!"
He wanted to freak out, to feel nervous, but inside all he felt was like a distorted noise; as if his emotions had gone completely berserk and his body was still trying to figure them out. He simply nodded and begun walking inside.
It wasn't until he was halfway through the halls that he actually realised where was going, so shocked he was. Though shocked might not be the right way to describe his state; more like on auto pilot. At least it seemed his feet were doing a fine job on their own, because they were leading him in the right direction.
Hisae-san was following him closely, asking all kinds of understandably stupid questions. For once, he couldn't be the adult amongst adults. This had hit him as hard as it had her, and honestly, he couldn't care less that she was distressed.
All he could think of was seeing Tsuzuki again; make sure he was alright. Make sure his eyes were still alive.
===============================================================
Their conversation was abruptly cut short when, after a deafening thunder, all the light bulbs in the infirmary exploded, one by one, until the room was bathed in darkness. Hijiri jumped instinctively, while Aome comically threw herself at him like a little girl.
He patted her hair mockingly.
"Afraid of the dark, are we?" She pulled away fast; with his 'good' eye, he caught the sight of the beginnings of a blush that had nothing to do with their previous proximity and he laughed.
"Shut up, Jii-san!" she spat, offended. "I'm not scared, I was just startled."
Hijiri put the photograph away and got off the exam table with a sigh.
"What was that, anyway? It didn't feel like a mere short circuit, did it?"
Aome, who didn't have the advantage of a 'night' vision, clumsily joined his side, her arms slightly stretched forward to feel her way there.
"Did you see how they went out? That wasn't an accident." her voice trembled slightly.
Hijiri took pity on her and retrieved an ofuda from his pocket. After a few whispered words, the slice of paper lit with a sort of green fire that illuminated the room barely but seemed to be enough to sooth his partner.
"At this stage in the game," he said while he motioned her to follow him out of the room, "I would think twice before calling anything an accident."
Precognition wasn't exactly the best of powers; it was vague and it never gave the person baring it enough information to actually understand what they were seeing. Aome, for her part, didn't have visions about the future. It was more like a pull; she could usually know what way to go, or when the hammer would fall, but nothing more.
When he'd first been paired up with her, he'd moaned and whined about having to not only deal with a cocky teenager, but with one that would provide him of no help in a case. She couldn't even summon shikis yet!
But at that moment, when she stopped dead in her tracks staring into nothingness with her eyes rather glassy, he knew right away that what she was 'sensing' was intense. That on itself was scary as hell.
She gasped loudly when whatever had possessed her subsided, gripping Hijiri's arm tightly enough to hurt.
"He... he's angry and..." she stuttered and if it hadn't been for the fact that her face looked a pale green because of the light, Hijiri would have sworn she looked four shades whiter.
"Is? As in, present 'is'?" What the hell? That was a first. Aome couldn't, never could, see things related to the here and now.
"He showed me... What he'll do to... to..." a lone tear escaped her eyes. Aome shook her head violently, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
Hijiri was out of words. Seeing her so affected by what she'd sensed, or seen, made something inside him snap. Hijiri saw everything in a different light. He'd been letting his feelings interfere with his job.
He was the senior shinigami in this case; that a rookie like her would be scared or a little lost as to how to proceed was more than understandable; she'd never dealt with a case of such gravity. But he'd been a shinigami for over 60 years. In his life, and after-life, he'd seen things way worse than this case.
He knew what he had to do, and that didn't include letting some lame ass demon toy with his partner's mind. The only reason he'd let the demon live for as long as he had was, ironically, Tsuzuki and the others. He hadn't wanted to make the demon angry; to start a fight that could bring a lot of casualties he wasn't ready to accept.
And though there was a big chance that they might get hurt; and though he'd cut his right arm to spare them any kind of suffering, he had a job to do and wouldn't help anyone if he just sit around like a scared infant.
If something happened to Tsuzuki, then it would hurt like hell. But he had to keep his feelings in check and make sure that demon didn't hurt other, unknown people as much as he had to protect Tsuzuki.
With a clarity of thought he hadn't had in days, Hijiri took Aome by the hand and virtually dragged her through the halls. There was no more time for play.
===============================================================
It had been a while since Muraki had stopped hearing the rain- or anything else for that matter. In his ears all there was, was a low, persistent buzzing. The inside of his mouth tasted salty, even though he hadn't cried at all, and his tongue felt spongy. All of himself felt as if he'd been drugged.
He had the vague memory of bringing a blanket and a tray with food for someone; perhaps it had been for the person now huddled in his arms? It made sense, too; that boy looked like hell. If there was anything in need of his care, it would have been him.
It was a pity, he decided, how that pretty boy's face was now marred with bruises and cuts that most certainly didn't belong there. He thought he could remember admiring that same boy's skin, but now it was clammy where it wasn't swollen. A sin, really.
The white haired boy rocked the listless body in his arms a little, absentmindedly humming. He really didn't remember how he'd gotten there, but the place was beautiful. Someone had taken the time to light all the candles and their gleam was warming his numbed self. It seemed as if someone had been readying the church for a ceremony. Had it been him?
It felt like it could have been him. He had the nagging feeling that he'd had something to do, and had got sidetracked. But now he couldn't remember the task, nor the distraction, so he just rocked the boy in his arms a little more.
Who would be so vicious as to make so much damage on such a beautiful, innocent creature? He brushed the sweat soaked bangs thoughtfully. There wasn't a hint of pain in those delicate features. Whatever oblivion had taken him, the boy was unaware of the suffering he should have been in. Was that a good thing?
The buzz in his ears turned into a low whisper. Muraki thought he could remember seeing someone in that church, beating that boy into unconsciousness, and being able to do nothing to stop him. He'd wanted to stop him, he realised. Now he couldn't put a face to that person, but he knew it wasn't a face he liked much.
He tried, with all his might, to remember who it had been, but the memory eluded him completely, leaving only a sense of dread and disgust in its place.
An immobile figure of Saint Michael Archangel () stared at him inquisitively from the altar. Muraki stared back, mesmerized by the weight of such stare. It almost seemed real. The white haired boy was hypnotized by the cold marble eyes. Was he really staring at him? Why did he feel guilty under that gaze?
'Snap out of it, boy.' A voice scolded in his mind.
He had a hard time making out the words, less alone recognising that they hadn't been spoken out loud. When he did realise though, he wasn't so much startled as he was baffled. It was a familiar voice, but one that shouldn't have been there. It wasn't his mind voice. Was it?
'I give you a simple task and look at you!' the voice mocked. 'I should have known it was too much for a little boy to handle.'
The words stirred something inside him, but he couldn't tare his eyes from the angel's face. A little voice- his own mind voice, dulled under the numbing noise of his mind- told him that the angel couldn't stop him. As angry and vengeful as the marble figure looked, there would be no punishment; no retribution. Heaven wouldn't hit back.
He frowned, confused. What side was he on again? He stared down at his hands in contemplation, trying to decipher something about them that was puzzling him.
And then it struck, hard and piercing as the worst of pains, the memory of whom he'd seen beating the boy in his arms. Blond, thin hair; a vicious, unrepentant smile. Muraki wanted to scream, because in his memory, Saki was both the attacker and the attacked, and he didn't know were he, himself, had been. He'd stood there, watching detachedly; but at the same time, he'd hit, hard, and liked it.
That was what was puzzling him about his hands. They were a furious red on their own account, but they were also covered in blood.
He pushed the boy away from his body as if he burned, causing him to fall with a loud thud on the stone floor. Awareness begun reaching him; Muraki laughed hysterically as he stared fixatedly at his hands. It had been him. He was the monster. How could he forget?
It was so obvious too; he was meant to be a monster. Everyone in his family had been one, why would he be any different? Besides, he wanted to be a monster, didn't he? He wanted it because... because it was the only way to beat Saki. He couldn't re-kill him; he would never be able to hurt him like he deserved. All Muraki could do was try and be better- or worse- than him. Take away his glory. He'd been the firstborn, after all. It was his right.
He stood over the still form of his 'victim', considering his next move. He knew what he had to do; it was an easy task and the boy's beauty made it all the more appealing. Not to mention the reward. He'd gone as far as to set the mood; chosen the most perfect of places to defy whatever powers that be. Even after his little loss of control- one of which he was not proud, since it could have cost him his plans. Why would he want to back out now?
Because, in truth, something inside him was stopping him. What could it be? He wondered. What deluded part of himself would want to pass on such an opportunity?
A vision of black hair and warm smiles invaded his mind-eye. Muraki froze, his eyes opening wide.
"No!!" he screamed at the turmoil the image brought.
Oriya.
Oriya said he cared, he said he loved him. And he'd planted the doubt. Now there was a small, almost unnoticeable part of himself that wanted to hope again, to trust himself.
'You're not evil.'
His memory reminded him of the words- the touches- and his hands begun shaking with emotion.
"You don't fucking know me." he hissed, saying what he'd wanted to answer that time. But his mind reminded him that Oriya had replied to that too, even if he hadn't said it out loud.
'I know you. Whatever you might do, or might have done already; it doesn't change the fact that you're not a bad person.'
"Shut up!!!" he yelled in spite himself, starting to shiver. "You liar! Fucking, ass-kissing liar!!"
It just couldn't be true; there had to be something Oriya wanted. Everyone wanted something. No, he wasn't a petty little boy starved for affection. The promise of love wouldn't change his mind. Love was a lie, anyway.
Affection, compassion; they were something people invented to justify being near others to get what they wanted. There wasn't such a thing as love.
And yet... when had Oriya asked for anything in return? He'd been there, day in and day out, by his side. He'd endure teasing, lying, deceiving, and he was still there; always trusting him, giving him the benefit of the doubt, the support he'd needed to not just give up and off himself. Muraki knew, he'd always be there.
The white haired boy wrapped his arms around himself, curling up into a tight ball against one of the pillars. His eyes landed on Hisoka, a virtually 'innocent' boy that had been brought to that holy place to be defiled so he could find the answers- the peace- he was seeking. Muraki started to cry.
===============================================================
Tsuzuki was starting to worry; Hisoka was nowhere to be found. He couldn't possibly have left; not with the weather outside and not without telling anyone! Something had to be wrong, but Tsuzuki couldn't bring himself to weigh the options.
Watari stirred behind him and begun snoring lightly, distracting Tsuzuki from his thoughts. He turned on his heels, deciding to leave his friend back in his room before continuing with his search. Poor Watari, he'd been exhausted after his little break down.
He was still dead curious about what could have caused it, though in his mind he'd formed one or two theories. If Watari felt so guilty about something that obviously concerned him, shouldn't he be worried?
But no, Tsuzuki shook his head; he'd already tried to imagine what was the worst Watari could have done to him, and still come up with the knowledge that it could be forgiven. He of all people should know, feeling so guilty over something that it would be enough to bring you to tears at the sight of the person you've hurt, didn't mean you'd have the courage to tell them.
It wasn't entirely out of cowardice; it was just a matter of not wanting to hurt this person even further. It might have been wrong, but he could understand it. Watari was sorry, truly sorry. It didn't matter what it was; as far as he was concerned, it was all water under the bridge.
But he also knew that, unless Watari opened up, he'd never be able to free himself from the guilt. He had to find a way to make him talk, to find out what had happened so he could ease the blond's worries.
At the moment though, his priority was to leave Watari sleeping safely and go find Hisoka. He had a bad feeling about the whole thing; leaving Watari alone didn't make him exactly happy, but he couldn't waste time looking for someone to look after him. Besides, the only person he could think of for that job would be Tatsumi, who'd pulled his own disappearing act.
Tsuzuki could only pray everything was alright.
Somewhere between him leaving Watari on top of the bed and him walking to the door, the lights went out in the entire building. He froze, feeling a familiar fear tug at the corners of his mind. From the window of the hall though, he could see that some lights were still on in other buildings and he sighed in relief. It was just a power shortage caused by the storm; nothing to fret about.
It would be a lot of fun to try and go downstairs in complete darkness, he thought, without the slightest hint of humour. Whatever happened to the emergency lights? He knew those halls as well as the back of his own hand though; if he got over his apprehension, there shouldn't have been a problem for him to make his way around.
Yet there was a part of his brain that wouldn't let go of his trepidation. A side of him was screaming for release; a part of himself long since denied and forgotten. His memory reminded him of the last time that pull had been strong enough that he'd gone against all better judgement and used his ability. It was not a pleasant memory, but surely it was enough to dissuade him of ever trying that again.
By the time he'd reached the foot of the stairs, his eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness. It was for that reason that he didn't notice right away the faint reddish glimmer, so dark and dim it wouldn't have been enough to illuminate his way, but enough as to draw some sinister shadows around him. His fears sky-rocketed and he was half way from deciding to run back up to lock himself in his room when a low, vile voice reached his ears.
"I've been waiting anxiously for this moment." The voice- that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere- had a strange drawl; not quite an accent, but more like Tsuzuki could tell whoever had spoken to him hadn't used Japanese- or any language for that matter- but some sort of 'higher' language that his brain had seemed to interpret without a problem. That was scary on itself; having that macabre voice directed at him did the rest of the work in completely freaking him out.
Tsuzuki took a step back, gripping the rail for dear life.
"Who... Who's there?"
"Ah, I don't think you know me... But I sure know you. You're quite popular amongst our kind."
"Our kind?" he asked, fearful. Somehow, he already knew the answer; the uttering of those words though, was the confirmation of every fear he'd had about his origin, so he refused to acknowledge it.
A pang of pain shot through his skull; Tsuzuki fell to his knees, hands going straight to his temples. He could almost feel his pupils dilating and he gasped, sensing right away how his eyes 'opened' to all the things he'd been willingly blind to. "No..." he whispered, pleaded, but it would fall on deaf ears. "Please... stop..."
And the shadows now took form. The reddish gleam was now an angry testimony of death and evil. Tsuzuki could see. The laughter that followed did little to sooth his panic. As much as he tried to close his eyes, it wasn't a physical sight that this creature had awoken; there was no escape.
Just when the violet eyed boy was about to give in to his impulse to whimper like a little boy, the red blaze dimmed and mixed with a warmer, more comforting green.
Tsuzuki looked up, hopeful as the laughter died down.
"Well, well." the voice said, rather amusedly. "It seems we'll have to postpone this for another time, ne? But don't worry, Tsuzuki-san. We'll meet again. Until then..." the voice had turned now into nothing but a whisper in his mind. "I'd look after the ones I love, if I were you. You wouldn't want them to get hurt."
Those last words struck a cord within him, filling him with dread. They were oddly familiar words, but he couldn't remember from when he remembered them. His eyes again adjusted to the change in light. He did like this new greenish glimmer, and it made him feel safe enough to stand. He sought the source with his eyes, but never expected it to be... well, what it was. Because a few feet away from him stood the nurse- Midori, was it?- holding... fire, in his hand?
And he wasn't alone, either. There was a young woman by his side. Both were staring at him with concern. The man took a hesitant step towards him, watching with mild surprise as Tsuzuki shifted his gaze from him to the girl.
"Tsuzuki-chan?" he asked, gently.
The girl locked eyes with him, seemingly in shock.
"Jii-san, I think he can see me." she whispered."Of... Of course I can see you..." Tsuzuki answered shyly. Just as he said it though, the girl gasped, her face filling with surprise and apprehension, and he realised it shouldn't have been so obvious. He wasn't actually seeing her. Not as he'd used himself to see, anyway.
The older man nodded and eliminated the distance between them, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Tsuzuki didn't complain; he was in serious need of comfort.
"I think we need to talk." Midori said, rather sadly.
===============================================================
Oriya turned on his bed; he never, ever, wanted to get up. His suitcase remained abandoned at the side of the bed, clothes slipping out of it as a result of the kick that had gotten it there. He'd told him; he'd told Muraki his feelings and all he'd gotten in return was an 'I'm sorry'?!
Was there a chance that the white haired boy had misunderstood? No; Muraki had to've been aware of his feelings, even before he'd opened his big mouth. Now he'd made himself look pathetic, killing all chances for Muraki to ever see him in a different light and probably ruining their friendship.
And to make matters worse, Muraki had all but confirmed he was the murderer.
Oriya sniffed again. He'd cried so much, he didn't have anything left in him. But he hadn't left. Why? Why couldn't he just accept what Muraki had told him- or didn't tell him- and leave with his dignity almost intact?
His pride screamed at him that he was being an annoying little lap dog. It seemed that way; that he was so desperate for affection that he'd take any crumb Muraki would throw his way, regardless of reality. But in his heart he knew it wasn't true.
Sometimes you just had to accept you loved someone, and love wasn't about happily ever afters. It was about sacrifice; about the other person more than it was about yourself. It wasn't like Muraki was abusing him; he wasn't in a destructive relationship. He just loved someone he couldn't have. But he could very well try with all his might to make him happy.
Though the last few weeks had proved Muraki was as far away from happiness as humanly possible, and though Oriya knew now that he, himself, could do little to bring that happiness to the one he loved, he knew he could, at least, ensure Muraki had both the time and the freedom to find that happiness at some point in the future, with whatever person that could bring it to him.
A ray of hope lit his swollen eyes as the idea dawned in his brain. Oriya wiped his face from any remnant tears with his sleeve and reached under the bed for the katana his father had given him. He almost smiles when he got up from his bed with his new resolve.
He just had to assure Muraki had that chance, even if he had to do it by force.
Tsuzuku
() That is not a reference to the St. Michael's arch. St. Michael Archangel was the angel that banished Lucifer to hell, in case you didn't know .
I'm not sure about how to answer reviews from now on. I'm scared ff.net will freeze my account or something. I can't possibly e-mail you all- not if you want me to update faster than once a year- and I also know that sometimes you get the answer to a question u had about the story from the answer to another review. Help me out?
Fish1: Homework is evil! It should be eradicated from the face of the earth!! sigh I feel your pain. Anyway, I won't deny u if u draw me something. I totally love ur work. Hugs to you.
LYK: Oh, I'm not sure if it'll get included in this story (maybe in the epilogue) but I have this limish Tatari scene in my head for this story and my fingers are itching to write it but I can't yet!! T.T Anyway, glad you are perceiving Muraki the way I wanted to write it. It's even harder to give him a sympathetic side now that he's gone bananas. Hugs you to pieces!
KARA ANGITIA: YAY, YOU WIN!!! Ah, you already got your present. Thanks so much for the 200, I never thought I'd see the day!!! And I think Narissah lending me your hand puppets plus your hammer did the trick to eliminate that evil writer's block! Thankies!!
Nsib: No, no, I wouldn't be so mean as to have Muraki do the nasty without writing it!! It didn't happen yet... though I can't rpomise it will. Muraki is about to get into a lot of trouble! -
Fahm: scratches head Was that a bad thing or a good thing? .
Schatten Wonderwolf: Ahora si tengo spell check, pero te imaginas que no puedo cometer demasiados errores en un examen, así que mas vale que aprenda a no equivocarme - Como es eso de que te dejan usar internet en clase? Ah, nosotros apenas tenemos computadoras de 1985 en las escuelas! De todas maneras, gracias por elogiar tanto el capitulo anterior, me hiciste sonrojar. Lo único ke no entendí (no es ke no pueda tomar una critica, solo ke en serio no se a ke te referías) fue lo de Watari. "The 'g'..." esta estancada por el momento. No es ke no se como seguirla, tengo bien en claro lo ke kiero hacer, pero no me sale. Me recuerda a cuando trato de dibujar, lol. Pero kedate trankila, este capitulo también estaba estancado, y termino saliéndome en menos de tres días. Estoy segura ke con la otra va a pasar lo mismo. Besos!
dodger-chan: Ah, Muraki is quite a subject. I'm not sure I should comment on it. Just stick around, you might be surprised. Just rest assured, I love him in all his forms, evil, repentant, OOC, I just adore him. Good to know you didn't think I was stalking u. I am completely moronic when it comes down to socializing, so heh. Anyway, you rock and hugs and you rock again.
xXLil Yu JahXx: Sugar is bad for your teeth. Luckily, we have dentists, so go ahead and get hyper all you want. Hugs!!
Mel-chan: 97? Yay, congrats! And what about those other tests? Yeah, I know I misspelled that... You guys have spelling bees and all that, how do u know- instinctively, I mean- when to use just a 'k' and when 'ck'. English is hard! Waaaaah! Huggles.
aki konoe: Well, aren't we forceful? No need for threats my dear. Here's your Hijiri, Hisoka and Tsuzuki plushies and lots of Hisoka cookies for good measure. Always nice to know there's other people reading that may not be reviewing for whatever reason, so don't worry about it. Hugs!
hickorirat: No he tenido el tiempo de chequear ese link ke me dejaste, pero te aseguro ke lo haré tan pronto me den un respiro y te aviso e es lo ke me pareció, ok? Gracias por pasarlo, eh? Es muy lindo de tu parte. Espero ke sigas leyendo? Besos.
Kyraille Fade: I think I paid more attention to Muraki's character than anyone else. He did came out rather cool, ne? smug smile Maybe not in this chappy though, sigh Don't worry about reviewing. Consider the length of this story, plus the fact you reviewed almost all chapters of the previous fic, plus every single oneshot, I'd say I could never hold it against you :D Seriously though, you must be -along with another two people- my most faithful reviewer! Hugs!
Ja Ne!!!