And then it had struck him.
Watari knew he shouldn't do this, but there was something inside of him driving him on to do it anyway. Tatsumi just wanted to protect him, but he didn't need protection. He was a shinigami, this was his job, and his old life was... dead. History. He was no longer the young, idealistic science student who had fallen in love with his friend. He wasn't the man who had died so suddenly, so violently in a lab fire. He was a shinigami, a guardian, an angel of death, and he had a job to do.
He could do this job, had done it to Enma-Daiou's satisfaction for thirty years, and this little... incident wouldn't give him bad marks all of a sudden.
Leaving the hotel, actually sneaking out of the room, Watari had soon realized that he was acting like a child. As if he had to prove something. Maybe he had, but to whom? Himself? Tatsumi?
His lover from thirty years ago was alive, had survived the very same fire that had killed Watari Yutaka, and now he was here to get him. But not only that. He would also get some answers as to what had happened that day.
Materializing in the main office of Fujikama Yukihito was no problem at all. There was no need for subtlety; the job required to get the man and that was what they would do. No sneaking into the corporation to find out more, no second thoughts like Tsuzuki mostly had about a person. Find the man, get the soul, bring him to Meifu.
That was all.
Watari steeled himself for what he would find and was surprised that the office empty of human life. Well, so much for that plan. It would have been too easy to just come in here, grab Fujikama and leave. Go somewhere to get answers, to catch up on those missing moments when he had died and Fujikama had lived. Somewhere their paths had gone different ways and Watari was desperate to find out when and why.
Did he regret dying? Yes, sometimes. Sometimes every shinigami wondered what could have been, if it might have turned out different, if there had been a way to stay alive. Watari's death had been an accident, not self-inflicted. Today he would be well in his fifties, maybe running a lab, maybe more. He might be famous or just an old eccentric, with young staff shaking their heads.
He smiled slightly.
Yes, sometimes he wondered.
And sometimes he didn't. Most of the times, really.
Oh well...
He looked around and sighed, ready to leave.
"I've been expecting you," a voice suddenly startled him and Watari froze.
He had appeared invisibly, but had dropped the pretense when there had been no life sign. Whirling around he found himself face to face with a man he had loved over thirty years ago.
"Hello, Yutaka. Long time no see. You haven't changed a bit."
White teeth flashed in a suntanned face; dark brown eyes glinted. The man before him was Yukihito... his Yukihito from so long ago. His friend, his study buddy, his lover... the man who had died and still lived.
"No greeting for an old friend?" Fujikama went on, coming closer. "You disappoint me, Yutaka."
"It is you," Watari whispered.
"Of course it is. Who did you expect?"
"You're dead."
A grin. "Sorry to disappoint you. I'm still alive. I can't say the same about you."
Watari couldn't help but stare. It was him, ran through his head over and over again. It was Yukihito. It was him... him! How could he have survived? How could he still be so young today?
"I've to say I didn't expect it to be you on the first attempt," Fujikama went on. "With eighteen of you running around and collecting wayward souls I had thought more of a trial and error game. As it is, you're right the one I've been wanting to see, koibito." He chuckled softly. "My lucky day."
"You... you expected me?" Watari stuttered, caught by surprise.
"Of course I did. You're a shinigami after all and only you guys would be coming after me. I was counting on that. Well," he shrugged and stopped in front of the blond, "time to get on with business, right? You came here for a purpose, just as I was hoping, but it's not like our business coincides. You, my dear Yutaka, are going to pay for my debts."
Before Watari could react the other man stepped back and snapped his fingers. There was a rush of power, a brief but intense pain, and he was flung back until he was stopped in mid air. Watari heard himself gasp, felt a binding spell wrap itself around his arms and legs, and he cried out in pain as the bonds dug into his skin.
"Too tight?" Fujikama asked, sauntering closer again. "I thought you liked those games."
"What are you talking about? What's going on, Yukihito?" Watari yelled, ignoring the pain. "You died in that fire like I did! You're dead!"
"No, I'm very much alive. I made a deal, Yutaka," Yukihito said, smiling coldly. "A deal for my life, my eternal life. Your soul for my immortality. Your precious, innocent soul. So warm and loving and trusting. You were a genius in the lab, a science nerd, but you never had a clue about life, right?"
He laughed and Watari could only stare at the man he had once loved.
"Too bad you hung onto life so badly as you did. You gave Enma-Daiou a chance to grab you, make you into an immortal as well." Cool fingers traced his jaw in a mock pretense of a lover's caress and Watari jerked his head aside. "Death becomes you, my lovely angel."
Watari felt sick to the core. "You're mad, Yuki!"
"No, I'm an opportunist, a realist. I didn't want to fall victim to mortality, but I also didn't want to sell my soul, so I sold yours. Easy enough. The devil was quite disappointed when Enma grabbed you, but he's a patient being."
Yukihito circled the trapped shinigami and Watari had to turn his head to keep track of the man.
"He's been waiting and waiting, and since he couldn't get a hold on you, we struck up a plan. I return to Japan and wait for one of you guardians to become aware of me. Baal was watching over me every single second since I set foot on japanese ground and he is watching me still. He knew you were here the second you made an appearance in Osaka. I would have taken every one of you, but as luck wants it that it is you and that blue-eyed bureaucrat you call a partner. I'm only interested in you, my dear Yutaka, in your wonderful soul. My payment for the gift I've been given. I shall live forever while you... well, your genius will perish. You have such a wonderful mind." Fujikama walked up to him, now very close. "And such a handsome body. It was so refreshing to listen to you, and it was so easy to get you working on something profitable. Or to get you into bed. You were so easy, Yutaka."
Watari felt the blood leave his face. "You used me?"
"I always used you, my little lamb. Did you think I would hang out with such a nerd as you were in college? That I would suffer your babble for nothing? You were my brain, Yutaka. You made everything I am today possible!"
Fujikama reached out and cupped Watari's face. The young shinigami felt nausea rise.
"You were very good in bed, too."
He had loved the man! He had loved and adored him. He had been his first, and Watari had thought... had wanted...
Gods, he had been such a fool!
"I can see it's finally settling in," Fujikama chuckled. "Took you only how long? Thirty years? Well, Yutaka, it took me less time to build this little empire with your research, your experiments, your legacy. At first I doubted that your death had been such a good idea; you were so full of new ideas. But then... you were too innocent to work with me, to see the truth behind my ideas. You had to die."
He leaned forward and brushed their lips together. Watari felt like throwing up. His whole body was shaking with rage and disbelief.
Yukihito had used him. All of him.
"I'd love to renew our acquaintance, koibito," the soft voice purred in his ear, a hand slipping between his spread legs, cupping and squeezing his most private parts, "you always had an agile tongue. But unfortunately we won't have time for this."
Terror finally kicked in, stoking the power that churned inside him, but he couldn't break the binding spell. He remained frozen inside the intricate web, spread-eagled, the pentagram pulsing behind him.
"You don't have to wait much longer. I'll just be calling my dear demonic friend and then you two can have a chat. He's been so looking forward to your arrival, Yutaka. So very much," Fujikama breathed.
"Take your hands off him!"
Watari looked past his ex-lover, the man who had sold his soul to a devil, and felt relief and worry rise inside him.
"Tatsumi!" he breathed.
Fujikama turned, exuding coldness. "Ah, the partner has arrived. Just in time for the show."
He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.
"Let the games begin."
########
Tatsumi didn't know whether to be angry or worries as he had dressed hurriedly, passing the shower, and then simply transported to the Fujikama building. He knew his lover was out to get answers, was determined to end this case and find maybe his peace, though for them peace was always hard to find.
He had expected a lot of things when he had arrived, but not the nightmare he now stood right in the middle of.
His lover and partner, caught in a binding spell, spread-eagled and looking horrified and nauseous in one.
"Ah, the partner has arrived," the undead laughed. "Just in time for the show. Let the games begin!"
The attack came out of nowhere. From one second to the next the room was filled with dark crackling energy, forming itself into the ugly appearance of a very pissed off devil. It was a high level one, one of power. Larger than Tatsumi, winged, with a long, spiked tail, it looked more animalistic than humanoid.
The Shadow Master stared at the manifestation, but before he could even think about reacting the tail whipped around, shoving him out of the way and slamming him into the next wall. Tatsumi cried out in pain when he felt ribs crack and break under the impact. He sank down, curled up on the floor, breathing hard, trying to get past the pain. He felt blood stain his fingers where the spikes had ripped into him, and each breath hurt.
Watari, Tatsumi thought, fighting not to lose consciousness. Yutaka!
"Finally," the devil snarled. "Finally I get my payment."
Tatsumi clawed his way upright, but the devil had just waited for it. He whipped out his tail once more and Tatsumi left a deep dent in the wall. He coughed up blood, the glasses shattering on the floor, and fell to his knees.
The devil pounced, the heavy, monstrous form landing on the stricken shinigami. It laughed and it sounded like sandpaper on stone. Razor sharp talons dug into Tatsumi's shoulders, into the soft flesh, tearing muscles and tendons.
The Shadow Master screamed in pain.
"Puny creature," it whispered, the breath hot and putrid. "I wish I had time to play with you a little, but alas, there is my true meal."
With a sickening sound it withdream the knife-like claws, blood gushing from each deep puncture wound. Then it turned to the bound shinigami.
Still conscious despite the pain, more terrified than ever in his long life, Tatsumi had to watch as those talons descended onto his lover's unprotected body, aiming for the heart.
No, the thought. NO!
Gathering his powers as good as he was able to in his condition, he sent his shadows toward the devil. His power fluctuated, his body protested the use of so much Shadow Magic, but he had to protect Watari, at any cost. His healing abilities were stopped mid-mend as his shadow magic required all his energy, and the pain was mind-numbing. He knew he was losing blood from wounds that should be closed by now, from injuries that were threatening to kill him. But it was either regenerate or lose Watari.
He couldn't accept the loss.
The shadows screeched toward the devil, Tatsumi running on instinct alone as he let them lose only to run into a wall of blinding white light. Pure... bright... like nothing he had ever seen. Tatsumi whimpered as he turned away, the brilliance burning itself into his eyes. He more felt than saw his shadows dissipate, felt his power severe with a snap, and he moaned as it rebound into his abused system. Hearing the devil roar in fury and denial he blinked through the tears into the wavering light that was surrounding the black screeching figure.
For a brief second Tatsumi thought he saw something within the light but before he could even blink it was gone, silence falling into the room like a blanket.
A silence that was only broken by his harsh, pain-filled breathing. Fujikama was gone and Watari...
"Taka!"
Clutching his broken ribs, hands slick with blood, his clothes soaked, Tatsumi tried to get to his feet. His body protested each move, he felt the healing power tentatively continue its work, but each steps, each twitch, tore already closed tissue apart, making it all the harder. He staggered to the other end of the room where Watari was lying in a corner. His lover had curled up in a fetal position, eyes closed, hair looking as singed as his clothes, but there was no blood.
Tatsumi fell heavily to his knees.
"Taka?" he breathed.
Golden eyes blinked open, owlishly looking at him,
"Seii?"
Tatsumi touched the pale face with one shaky hand, absently noting the blood on his fingers.
"You're bleeding," the blond murmured, catching the hand.
"I'm fine," was the automatic answer.
"The devil!" Watari suddenly blurted, looking around.
"Gone. Like Fujikama. He escaped in the confusion."
Watari sat up completely, running a careful eye over the other man. Tatsumi could tell he didn't like what he saw.
"What happened?" he asked.
"We were saved by an angel."