Title: Killing Me Softly

Author: ThisbeCeyx (formerly known as yukie-chan)

Rating: PG (ratings will go up as the story progresses)

Genre: AU, Romance, Drama, Angst

Pairings: Tatsoka, Tatsu, Ori/his (other pairings will be decided on the future chapers)

Warnings: If you don't like Tatsoka, please don't read. I don't want to be getting reviews complaining about the main pairing. This is my current obsession so, live with it.

Summary: AU. Hisoka is a courtesan and a fire dancer under Oriya's supervision in Hagi. Tatsumi goes to the annual festival to follow up his investments on the said entertainment business with Tsuzuki. The story starts from there.


It was raining. Again.

Much to the other's amusement and the other one's iriitation.

"Ne, Tatsumi… Don't you think that the rain is wonderful?" amethyst eyes perked up from less animated blue ones.

The older one was the seemingly more naïve and immature of the pair, there was a certain warm and gentle aura that came from his usual carefree smiles. His chocolate locks formed a mass of tangled hair that was pasted on his once sweat-stricken skin. His black tie was clumsily folded and placed in his breast pocket, the major length of it dangling on his white polo. One would have been rather intrigued by the way he had five buttons undone presumably because of the heat before the rigorous downpour.

A sigh penetrated the slightly chapped lips of a man with black-rimmed glasses. Speaking of which, the said spectacles were removed by a wary hand and placed carefully on his pocket. "Tsuzuki-san, you find this rather amusing, don't you? To be able to postpone our supposedly business trip to Hokkaido, waste the opportunity to be able to assess our investments and spend more than what was planned for the laundry that we obviously have no time to do?"

The accused one was more cheerful despite the piercing gaze of his superior held for him… well, Tatsumi was his senior in a known insurance firm in Japan. He merely looked at the enraged man playfully before looking away, his hands resting on a metal bar ledge. "It cleanses the world, doesn't it? From all its sins and little imperfections… To others it may seem troublesome but I really find it soothing you know… At least I know that someone up there is sharing my pain with me… Crying over my sorrow…," Tsuzuki replied, absently while tracing a familiar scar on his wrist.

Tatsumi looked at him, a lingering sense of worry flashed in his eyes but he knew more than to let it show. He walked away, leaving his companion to his own thoughts while him in his own dementia.

"I hate the rain… Because I don't want anyone's tears falling for me…"

"Did you say something?" Tsuzuki inquired, not of interest but of the lack of anything else to say.

Tatsumi didn't bother to face him but stopped abruptly and close enough for his friend to hear, "Weighing my priorities and most especially the company budget, I was considering to go to the festival in Hagi tomorrow to make sure that our investments are well taken care of." Being who he was, the reputation he had, he was a quite the quick thinker to find a way out of his absent-minded antics.

His companion's face lit up, a child-like grin pasted on his perfectly lined lips, "Knew you couldn't resist the ultimate-plushie-tsuzuki-nag-tickle attack last night!"


Flames flickered and danced to the rhythm of the autumn wind. Slender yet capable arms twisted and turned gracefully, limbs exposed in the night air, long and slightly muscled legs worked cautiously, beholding an exquisite fire dance. His cat-like eyes and seductive lashes worked its way on the audience, who were jeering at every given time.

He wore a rather provocative ensemble. He wore nothing to cover his chest but a loose vest, with a serpent embroidery on the back. His pants were long enough, had it not been for the ridiculously high sleet that was probably made to attract audiences and to show off some skin. The boy had a simple tiara on his wheat hair and a white veil to cover the lower part of his face, his nose and mouth.

Tatsumi Seiichirou was not a fan. Neither was his older companion, Tsuzuki, who in the meantime was busy jeering with the crowd and leaning as much as he could to get a better glimpse of the scantily clad dancer. Probably he had too much to drink tonight, the secretary absently thought.

But neither could he, a noble man in all of his rights, never the one to feast on the pleasures of the flesh, not resist a beauty when presented in your own eyes. He licked his lips, though rather shamed that one would see him in a particular state of sheer amusement, he would have faltered his position in the company. Truly, he was beginning to be entertained by what he had once called 'a fetish display of talents'.

The drums beated wildly and paralleled the thumping of his heartbeat. Each move was a sin itself, the way the boy would gracefully play with fire as though it is an object of seduction. And as the self-proclaimed 'noble man' was indulging himself in his trance, the fire dance was finished.

As expected, majority of the audience where cheering for more, not to mention that Tsuzuki was also one of those a bit too enthusiastic ones. The dancers retreated to their crimson tent and he found himself looking after the graceful sway of hips, his immaculate nape and wheat hair.

Tatsumi bit his lip in denial and decided against calling Tsuzuki to behave well. His alcohol-induced sweets-holic partner was not someone to be messed with, that, he learned in the past ten years that they've spent as colleagues, friends, officemates and lovers, even. He found himself mentally shaking his head on his last thought. It had been probably a mistake… That night. It was only about comfort; giving and receiving it as mere duties of…. Friends, right? Well, maybe not exactly correct but he wanted to believe that way.


A young teen, barely the legal age, sat carelessly on a wooden stool laid out for him. He had been changed from his usual dancing attire to a more formal Chinese light blue tunic with an outer lining of gold on his sleeves. Though it was roughly too short for the dancer, he was not in the position to complain.

No sound came out from his gloss-painted lips as the hairdresser was pursuing more physical contact as he straightened out his outfit. He was the 'gem' of their so called 'troupe', the one who always won the audience's and the master's favor. He, who slept in his bed and the one who is shared with those who were his affiliates of power.

He said that he didn't need any make-up or provocative clothing to be beautiful because he would always be wanted. Always. Wanted.

But what if he didn't want to be wanted?

He always stayed up late even after they made love; he knew because he too had been watching him through his shallow breathing and his touches. He knew how much he was afraid to lose his beauty to the other ravaging beasts who wanted him. He told him how his beauty had only bloomed as he aged; his grace and allure never fading…

But what if he didn't want to be beautiful?

"Hisoka!" came a heavy and mature voice from outside the tent. The man with long ebony hair entered, a kitsune mask on the side of his face. He work a usual dark maroon yukata but his posture and aura demanded respect. He walked his way towards the hairdresser and the quiet performer.

"Oriya-sama," the insignificant man bowed in respect as he was ushered away to keep his master with the boy alone.

There wasn't any change in Hisoka's features, let alone his quick glance at the newcomer. He looked at himself in the mirror, silently cursing the new, much heavier tiara that was placed on his hair. He couldn't say that it wasn't lovely, considering the fact that the emerald in the center reflected his own green hues. At least, there was no annoying veil over his face now but it was replaced by another white one on his back.

They really weren't intending on making him look like a bride, were they?

But yeah, how could he complain? He was a gift, right? The best gifts come in best packages. Now, where did that thought come from, he mentally asked himself. 'Oh yeah, that stupid valentine's teddy bear promo on a local restaurant last year', he almost chuckled at the thought but of course, this was Hisoka, this was normal.

"Oriya-sama," he finally stood up, gracefully lifting his chin and facing his master.

The man merely smiled, amused at how much this seems nothing at all to his young courtesan. Oriya corrected mentally, "…young dancer".

He reached out to touch porcelain cheeks, feeling its softness and the smooth feeling of his skin. Perfection, he thought. How could the gods mould such creature?

Oriya fought the urge to explore more as his own innuendos were beginning to kick in. He straightened his back and gallantly walked out of the tent, gingerly lifting his hands to Hisoka to follow him.

Bastard, the young man cursed. His master's wanting looks made him want to get a knife and stab his senior. But of course, he had work to do. Maybe later, he mentally encouraged himself before stepping out to the pack of hungry beasts, one of whom he was to be offered to.


Author's Notes:

Well, I guess this is my contribution to the growing number of fics centering on our beloved secretary and empath. The idea just crossed my mind after watching a spectacular fire dance on tv last Easter Sunday. When I saw the young men who were dancing and their hotcostumes, I guess that was when my fangirl ideas started kicking in. Hope you liked it!

Updates on Lovely Ice:

Thank you to all my reviewers, namely: kimeko, Sapphire Dragon, Sissy & Kody, hiyak3, bitchmonkey, Kamikakushi, anonymous, yamatoforever, neko-kaoru, nene, Gigi, The Chaotic Ones, Weird Aly Evil, Chubby-King-Chocobo, The Reviewers and to everyone that had read it. But sadly, I have a very BIG author's block on the next chapter and it may take a while before the next installment is posted. Thank you for your patience! You guys rock!


Reviews and constructive criticisms appreciated. Flames will be given to Hisoka to practice for his next fire dance. Thank you for reading!