Good grief, this chapter is so short and tiny and small and petite... NOT.
I guess the thing is that the plot is growing like a bean stock and I'm having a hard time fitting individual parts into different chapters that are equally growing out of size. (my baby is growing up, *sniff*) Oh, well. At least I've finished this part.
A note that should be mentioned here: I had chosen single quotes (`) for thoughts, and Italic for flashbacks/memories. However, in this chapter, Italic is also used for Enma's speech since I couldn't find any other text format that would have the desired "divine being" effect. So Italic doubles for that.
There are a few curse words in this chapter as well as some disturbing material in the flashback, so be warned. But then, that's what the PG-13 rating is for.
Ok, I know you are all eager to read the chapter so I won't hold you up any longer. Here you are...
The Trial –Chapter Eight
The rain had been pouring since the morning.
"Hakushaku-sama…"
He had been standing by that window for most of the day, looking at the rain-drenched gardens, the ripple-flecked pond, bushes and flowers... the blurred, shadowy silhouette of the man standing there.
"He rejected your gift, Hakushaku sama. Said the only thing he wanted was to see you."
The sopping wet butler held out the umbrella with both hands presenting it to his master like the sword of a fallen opponent.
The mask turned, the thoughts of the owner not hidden from his devoted servant. Despite what it looked like, the defeat was all theirs. The lone man standing outside in the rain was gaining a slow grinding victory with his resolve. Shredding their consciences and stretching their nerves to the limit without lifting a hand.
"Thank you, Watson. That's all."
The butler bowed, putting the umbrella under his arm and moving away.
The Earl turned to the window. The rain was making everything hazy and difficult to see, yet it didn't obscure the object of his attention. The Earl watched in silence, looking through the rain at the ghostly figure standing down there in front of his window. Was he real? Was he a ghost? He hadn't moved from that spot in almost three days. Could it be that he wasn't really there and what he saw was just a product of his irritated imagination?
The Earl chided himself for the silly excuse. Products of one's imagination didn't reject umbrellas.
He went into his office and closed the door. Sitting at his desk, he steepled his hands and went into deep thought. It was a strange picture as all that could be seen was a tilted mask and two gloves suspended above a desk. The silence of the room made even that blend with the interior. It stayed like that until a voice came from above, a deep tenor that reverberated through the room.
"Hakushaku-san, what is the matter?"
The mask lifted. "Enma-dono. We have a problem."
"You mean that secretary form Shokan-ka?"
"He's been out there for three days."
"I'll order him to be removed."
"I don't think that would help. Besides, that is not my problem."
"What is your problem then, Hakushaku-san? Tsuzuki?"
The fingers twitched. "Isn't it time we stepped in?"
"No, it is Lord Mahorath's move. I will not go back on my word."
"But is it tolerable?"
"Here, there is no question of tolerance involved. It is the end result that will determine who will have the rights over him."
"Even if it destroys him in the process."
"Hakushaku-san, did we not already discuss the matter of your feelings in this proceedings?"
"Unfortunately, this has gone beyond the subject of my feelings. The whole Summons section is up in arms. Do we want to jeopardize our organization just because we promised? Are we that passive?"
"It is common procedure for Makai to carry out the trial. I have never interfered in the past and do not intend to do so now or in the future."
"I understand Enma-dono. But this time, the subject is a difficult case. I have yet to meet someone who is not affected by that man in some way. Makai might have bitten more than they could chew."
"Only time will tell, Hakushaku-san. For now, our part is to wait and watch. I suggest you keep that in mind."
"I understand, Enma-dono."
----------------------
Ayaka! ...
She was standing before him again, wearing a black robe of the same style as her white one from before. Her hair was blowing in the wind and her eyes glowed fire.
Tsuzuki wasn't sure if he was awake or dreaming. Dreaming happened a lot these days. Especially after his first visit to hell. It had felt so real and yet here he was, back in his bonds and kneeling on the ground. Since then, he had not been able to tell when he was awake and when he was not. It all seemed like an ongoing nightmare and every part of it had a different shade and flavor.
Today's flavor was black, its shade fire, and it tasted of death.
Ayaka was towering over him.
"You rejected us, Tsuzuki-san."
"I'm sorry, but I- "
"How dare you reject your own kind?"
He closed his eyes and dipped his head, not wanting to look into those feral, accusing eyes. He whispered his reply.
"Please, don't say that. I'm not-"
"Oh yes you are." Her voice was harsh. Penetrating. Her hair flowed and rippled around her like the locks of Medusa. "You are very much a part of us no matter how hard you try."
"Please..."
A red glow started behind her back, tendrils of fire rising to the sky. Her face was hidden in the shadows but her eyes reflected the flames like two red-hot coals separated from the hearth.
"Are you so bold to deny it? Have you forgotten that night? Those people? Killed at your hands? By the awakening of your inner self?"
The fire was burning brighter now, filling his vision with images too horrible to be seen. Tsuzuki turned his head as best as he could and squeezed his eyes, trying to shut the images out. It took him a moment to notice he could not escape a nightmare that way.
The village. The whole village was there. All the people he knew or didn't know but had seen around. And there was fire, in their house. Their house was burning. And people where trying to get something out of the house.
A girl in a dirty kimono. Long black hair. Unconscious. She was on the ground in front of the house. People were dragging her to safety. Most of them looked scared. It looked like she had stopped breathing and they were trying to bring her back to life.
...Ruka...
Tsuzuki tried to force his way through the crowd. But it was as if they didn't see him. He didn't exist in their world. It was just a replica of his, of what it had been when he was alive. He finally got close to the scene, to where Ruka was lying on the ground. And then everything just stopped.
There was a young man standing there, a few feet away from the comatose girl, screaming at the people who were trying to help her. His hair was wild, his clothes torn and hanging from his body that was smeared with blood. He looked like a beast.
And then he turned, and the shinigami saw an image of himself.
It was he, Tsuzuki Asato, the way he had been that night.
The monster he had been that night.
The young man kept screaming at the people, telling them to get back and leave the girl alone. Most of them looked afraid of him and scrambled away, leaving the girl on the ground. The angry young man turned his back to them and surveyed the rest of the crowd standing in a twelve feet diameter around him. He looked menacing and on the verge of attacking them. Then, while his attention was diverted, the people behind him made a move to reach for the girl. It was a mistake.
Young Tsuzuki turned.
His eyes blazed fire.
And all hell broke loose.
There was a pulse, a bright white flare that started from the tips of his shoes and blasted in all direction. For a moment, everything went white and all sounds muted. Then the shockwave hit. The shinigami Tsuzuki tried to cower but soon realized he wasn't really a part of it. Like everything else in this world, it did not affect him. But it affected everyone and everything else around him. The people he saw all of a sudden disappeared, incinerated in a way that not even their bones were left. The trees fell to the same fate. The fire that was consuming the house was swallowed by this bigger, more overwhelming force. And at the center of it was his mirror image standing calmly and with no trace of emotion reflecting on his face. Simply observing the carnage he had caused with cold, unfeeling eyes. Demon eyes.
When the smoke cleared and Tsuzuki could finally open his eyes (he had closed them out of habit, not that the dust and the embers from his dream could really hurt them,) he saw the flashback version of himself being the last man standing. All around him was a massacre, stretching for miles. It looked like a hydrogen bomb had went off and nothing was left except wreckage and ash.
It was the most horrific scene Tsuzuki had seen in his whole life.
Seen for the second time.
With a scream that tore from his heart he ran to his younger self and tried to shake him. His other self wasn't that much younger than him, maybe only by a few years. But he had a wild, dazed look in his eyes and his hair went in all directions. His zombie-like appearance and the way he was poised after his attack, as if finally having reached a resolution, made him look like a true demon beast.
"This can't be me. It simply can't be. I had the demon under control. I had it always under control. Something else must have happened that night. Something that awakened it."
"The demon is you, Tsuzuki-san. Why is that so hard for you to accept?"
Tsuzuki turned swiftly, his hand still holding shoulders he couldn't touch, of a person who wasn't truly there. Ayaka was standing an arm's reach behind him, illuminated by the light of the fires around.
"Do you still deny the truth, Tsuzuki-san?"
Tsuzuki looked at her, stricken. He let his hands drop and sank to his knees, clawing at his hair with his hands and screaming denial. "No, no, no, no...This isn't true. This can't be true. Please say it isn't. Please leave me alone."
"Then stop running away from who you truly are, return to us."
She walked closer to him. He could feel her presence looming over his bent form.
"You had forgotten it all, didn't you? The sin that was committed seventy-five years ago. The same sin that condemned you to be a shinigami."
He crouched further on the ground. Fighting to shut out the world.
"No--" a choked attempt at denial.
"Your time for seeking redemption is up, Tsuzuki Asato. It's time for you to return to where you truly belong. To us, Makai."
--------------------------
Watari sighed and spared a look around the place. The Café was small. A neat little place a few blocks away from JuOhCho that was famous for its specialty teas. Watari used to hang out there a lot, especially after a hard day of working on explosive experiments. On its nicely shaded patio on sunny days customers could sit under the blooming sakura trees and have their tea. Today, however, the sky was grim and bucketing so everyone was crammed inside. Watari was sitting in a corner and sipping on his favorite blend of herbals while reading a science journal. He had his latest experiment tucked in his coat pocket to show to Komio-chan, his cute waitress friend.
He looked up from his reading to check on her when he saw a figure walk through the front door. His whole body froze. The newcomer sensed him soon as his eyes locked on his face and a familiar smile spread over his lips. Before Watari could do anything the other was strolling over to his corner preventing any possibility for escape.
Watari stared at the man in front of him over the edge of his magazine, cursing the gods that had caused this to happen. Then again, the gods might have been completely innocent in the matter. This man most likely worked for the devil. It was just like him to have tracked him down from the office all the way to here.
"Well hi, Watari-san. It's such a pleasure to see you here." Isorou cheered.
Without waiting for permission he sat himself on the free chair across from Watari. The scientist mumbled some kind of reply while pushing his nose as deeply into his magazine as he could. His peace was ruined and he was desperately grasping for whatever was left of it. It was a failed attempt as Isorou had proven time and again that he wasn't a man you could simply shut out.
Isorou picked up the menu from the table and opened it, his eyes staying on Watari. "This is such a nice coincidence. I was just thinking about inviting you to a cup of tea, and look where I found you."
'Yeah right. Coincidence my ass. You'd planned this all along or I'm the flying vacuum cleaner I still haven't invented.' Watari grumbled inside.
"So what's good here?" Isorou asked flipping through the menu. "Anything you would recommend?"
"Yeah, try the Leave-me-the-hell-alone combo right there." Watari snapped.
Isorou's smile only got wider. "You're still in the hate zone with me, aren't you?"
"Yes, and I'm liking it so much I'm planning to invite all my friends over. No, wait, they're all already here."
"What a shame." Isorou shook his head, "and I thought we were past that. But no worries, you will come around."
'Yeah. Dream on, loser.' Watari thought, turning a page he hadn't read in his magazine.
Isorou was about to say something else when a waitress showed up. She and Isorou started a conversation Watari consciously ignored until a shrill voice brought him back to reality. "Ohhh, Watari-kun. Konnichiwa. I didn't see you. How are you doing?"
The blond man looked up and was face to face with his starry eyed waitress friend. "Oh, hi Komio-chan. I'm fine. How are things going with you?"
"I'm great. Did you order already?"
"Yes, but I need to test my new experiment. May I have some Jello please?"
"Sure. And you, sir?" She turned to Isorou, "Do you want anything with your coffee?"
"No thanks, that's it."
"Great." Komio gathered the menus and walked away.
"So you're working on a new experiment?" Isorou asked casually folding his hands on the table.
Watari put the magazine away. It wasn't working anyway. "Uh-huh." He answered, not looking at the other man and trying to look as aloof and bored as he could be.
"That's really interesting. What is this one about?" Isorou asked.
"You will see when the Jello gets here." Watari replied.
Komio showed up a few minutes later with a bowl of cherry colored Jello and set it on the table in front of Watari. Right away the scientist took a pouch out of his pocket and sprinkled a finely ground powder over the dessert. Komio and Isorou bent closer to see what would come out of it.
Nothing happened. The two were so deeply concentrated on the bowl that if the whole thing exploded in their faces they wouldn't have noticed. Still, all the Jello did was sit there in the bowl and wiggle happily.
"Uh, Watari-san. What's happening?" Komio asked.
Watari handed her a spoon, "Here, try to scoop some."
The waitress reached for the spoon but it was snatched away by another hand before she could take it. Startled, she turned to Isorou who sweetly smiled back. "Please, allow me."
Komio turned to Watari with inquiring eyes and saw him shrug in reply. She then turned to the Jello and Isorou's hand that was wielding the spoon. He dug into the jiggling desert and scooped some up but before he could lift it, the bit of Jello took shape like a little worm and squirmed away. That took both Isorou and Komio by surprise and she let out a shriek. Isorou went for it again, digging the spoon deeper this time and taking a larger chunk out. But, just like before, the brightly colored wiggler took a life of its own and ran away. It became a battle of wills after that, with Isorou hacking and shoveling the evilly possessed Jello and the Jello running away every time he tried to pick it up. By the time he gave up, his face and suit were speckled with worm like cherry droplets and Watari and Komio were on the floor laughing their guts out. And of course, there was no speck of Jello on the spoon.
Watari came up for air laughing so hard he had tears streaming down his face. He sat back on his chair and went to take the spoon from a totally flustered Isorou. He had to wait for the last of his giggles to subside before he could speak. "Oh man, you look so funny. Beaten by the Jello, eh? Ouch, my pride."
Isorou stared at the two of them dumbfounded before a grin spread on his face and he handed the spoon back to Watari in a sign of defeat. "I guess you are right. You really got me on that one, Watari-san."
Watari giggled more. " I call it Jelly-o-Flee" he supplied, "the latest in my prank productions."
Komio clasped her hands in amazement, squealing, "Oh, Watari-san. That is so amazing. You're not going to try that on your coworkers, are you?"
"Well, not now. It needs a few more adjustments. But it'll be ready for the chief's next anniversary for sure."
He turned to Isorou who was immaculately wiping Jello off his suit.
"Sorry, man. Hope you didn't take it too hard. I wanted to warn you when you took the spoon. But then, I couldn't resist imagining what your face would look like. It was priceless." He blinked and turned to Komio as they both chuckled.
Isorou continued to smile, concentrating on his cleaning job. "I enjoyed the prank, Watari-san. It's not every day that I get to experience one."
Komio was surprised. She asked, "You mean, you and your friends never pull a trick at the office?"
Isorou replied, "No, I take my job very seriously. There's no room for such inanities in my line of work."
Komio excused herself and left to attend to her other customers.
Watari stared at the calm man in front of him contemplatively. 'No wonder you're such an uptight piece of work. I bet you don't even have friends in your line of work.' He thought. But, strangely enough, he found himself hesitant to speak the words. Looking at the averted profile of the man sitting before him, his assumption all of a sudden seemed so very true. 'Better not piss him off.' Yet, he couldn't lose the feeling that he was keeping his silence more out of concern for the other man than his fear of him. The thought was rather unsettling. He reminded himself that he hated this man. That this was the man who had put his friends through so much pain. Still, seeing him wipe the last bit of Jello off his coat and pick up his coffee in silence, he found all that spite rather far away. 'I guess I'm not the kind of guy who can hold onto a grudge for a long time. Why not have a momentary truce for now? He did, after all, take that practical joke gracefully.'
Making up his mind Watari let go of the huffing and fuming and simply turned back to his journal while Isorou took a newspaper from the next table. Sitting across from each other reading their respective papers they engaged in small talk occasionally, mostly about mundane things and avoiding touchy issues. Watari realized that he wasn't too uncomfortable. He wasn't enjoying himself for sure but the feeling of being trapped and constantly having to act like a mouse on a hot plate was gone. A strange calmness had descended upon the occupants of the small table and Watari wasn't at all eager to break it regardless of its appropriateness or its implications.
Just then Isorou lifted his face and said, "Watari-san, I want to ask you something."
"Go ahead."
"Who is Dr. Muraki?"
The moment was shattered.
Watari's hand trembled as he brought down the cup. "Where did you hear that name?"
"Around," Isorou answered, "does it matter?"
Watari didn't know what to say. His mind was a runaway roller coaster trying to avoid the inevitable crash. Cautiously he said, "Why do you want to know about him?"
Isorou feigned indifference by looking at his paper and sipping coffee. "Nothing important. It's my job as an investigator to look for all the clues."
"I thought you were a prosecutor and that you'd already found your felon. How come you're so interested in investigating a judgment you've already passed?"
Isorou looked up. "Is this a touchy subject, Watari-san? I didn't intend to bring back the venom into your voice. It was just a simple question."
Watari slammed his hand on the table. "No, I tell you what it is. You're looking for another way to torture my friend, aren't you? You can't fool me with your fake innocence, or your damned solitary man act." He was shaking.
Isorou's too familiar smirk was back in place. He shook his head and rose to his feet, reaching into his coat pocket and placing some money on the table. "And just as I thought we were making progress."
Watari jumped and grabbed a handful of his coat. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Back." Isorou said in a dismissive tone.
"You're going to harass my friends again, aren't you? I can see it in your eyes."
"Well, if you are not willing to talk to me then I have no choice but to go ask other people. That boy for example seems to be -"
Watari tugged at him fiercely, almost yelling, "Leave Bon alone, you bastard."
Isorou pried Watari's hands away from his coat and walked away, subtly checking to see if the blond was following. He saw the scientist leave his magazine on the table and run after him.
"Wait. Damn it, what are you planning to do?" Watari yelled out at him when they were out of the teahouse.
Isorou didn't turn. "Like I said, Watari-san. I don't think this issue is that much of a big deal so I'll just go to the boy and ask some questions and then leave. Nothing to hurt him or anything when he's not actively breaking the law."
Watari reached him and grabbed his arm, turning him to meet his face. "Listen, you pest. Leave my friends the hell alone and I'll tell you what you want. Happy?"
The smirk returned. "Of course, Watari-san. I like so much better to chat with you than with anyone else. After all, we're friends."
The amber-eyed man gritted his teeth. "But you promise to leave Bon alone, right?"
Isorou put an arm around Watari's shoulder, patting him like a buddy. "Sure, sure. Now, lets hear about this Dr. Muraki, shall we?"
It was a long walk back to JuOhCho.
Later, Watari went to the infirmary to check on Hisoka. The boy was fast asleep and the sight of his slumbering face gave Watari a semblance of comfort. If he could keep that creepy man away from Hisoka for the duration of the trial then he could be contended that he had at least done something. To some extent it would lessen the guilt he felt over not being able to help Tsuzuki, and he was sure Tsuzuki would appreciate it too once he heard that Watari had looked after his young partner while he was away. He brushed a hand over a soft cheek and the empath murmured in his sleep, an arm draped over his chest and his head turned to the side with tousled, weed-colored bangs falling over his eyes. He looked so...so kawaii. If the boy didn't need his sleep so badly Watari would've reached over and wrapped him in a big hug.
"Sleep well, Bon." The scientist whispered, brushing the bangs away. "Get the rest you need in your dreams if not in this cruel reality of a world."
He turned off the lights and walked out, intent on leaving his friend to enjoy this moment of comfort now that he was finally resting and at peace.
If only he knew how wrong that assumption was.
--------------------------
The boy named Hisoka hadn't had many peaceful nights of sleep since he had been a little child. When his empathy had shown itself full force his nights had turned into a montage of dreams and memories of whoever was around. If he concentrated too hard on a person, like the times when he was sick and sleeping in her mother's arms, he would see her thoughts and nightmares in his dreams and would wake up crying. Telling his mom why he had been awakened usually made her freak out. She couldn't understand why her little boy had been dreaming about the same things she had been worrying about. And in cases when she had fallen asleep she was scared to find out that they had had the same frightening dreams.
Since then Hisoka had learned to sleep alone and keep his mind as empty and detached from everyone as possible. That was one of the reasons he read every night before going to sleep. Reading took his mind off the real things and locked it into the imaginary world of stories. Though nightmares were still possible after that, at least he could be sure that they were all his own.
His nightmare tonight was not.
He wasn't even a part of it, just stepping in like a kid who had put on one of those virtual reality goggles in an arcade and plunged into a world that was anything but real.
Running, running, so fast his lungs burned and his legs protested the strain and abuse forced upon them for the past half hour.
"Have to get away. Have to get away. I can't fight that many of them."
The 17 year old dark-haired boy had been warned by his sister not to go to the village. The villagers had been angry of late. The harvest this year hadn't been that good because of untimely rain, and as always, they blamed the demon child who lived amongst them. Even though Tsuzuki and Ruka lived as far away from the public as possible - in a secluded spot outside the village and close to their small field where they grew their meager crops - people blamed everything that went wrong with their lives on them, or more precisely, on the boy who had the unnatural amethyst eyes.
Asato knew there would be trouble. But still, he couldn't stay in the house forever. They needed food beyond the measly vegetables they grew in their farm. They needed bread and milk, and if possible, some dry meat. They also needed clothing and firewood. Life was hard on the outskirts and even though Ruka always smiled, Asato could see the effect of hard work on her slender, fragile body. He had to do something or they would not survive the winter.
Which is why he had set off to the village that morning to sell some of their crops and buy supplies.
It had not gone well. Every place he went to there were talks about the famine and how demons had caused it. He didn't dare approach anyone and finally had given up selling or buying anything and just headed home.
They had ambushed him just outside the main square. A group of teenagers and some older guys that seemed to have nothing better to do. He was too weak and tired to fight any of them so he had ran away, but not before several of the sticks and rocks they had thrown at him bruised and bloodied his pale skin. They chased after him, keeping up the jeers and the throws. He ran as fast as he could, dropping everything and running even faster. But it was of no use. He had been through enough of these chases to know that the gang that was after him had no problem catching up to him and was intentionally dragging it out to make him exhausted and more vulnerable for the finale. Even though he was already used to their games he couldn't help but to run, clinging to the slim thread of hope that somehow, someway, he might be able to out run them.
It was no use. He discovered that when he turned into the gravel road that led to their home. He cursed himself for taking that path for his escape. He didn't want them to approach his house. Ruka was there; she'd be terrified. She always got upset seeing his wounds, even if she didn't witness how he got them. It could turn out even worse; they might go after her and to Asato that was the most impossible thing.
With those thoughts in mind he took a detour into the woods. The chase ended in a dead-end clearing surrounded by thick tree trunks and masses of shabby bushes. It was secluded enough that there was little chance Ruka would walk into them accidentally while they were...at it.
His breath and his knees gave way at the same time. He sank to the ground, rubbing his sore legs and trying to get some feeling back into them. It was over. He had nowhere else to go. All that was left now was to get through what was coming next and pick himself up afterwards.
He could hear them prowling around him. He could tell by the sound that there were seven of them, four teenage boys and three men. All armed with rocks and wooden clubs. He kept his eyes closed, praying they would give him a quick session and leave.
"Caught the little demon," one said.
"Yeah, damn thing thought he could get away. After all that he's caused, has the guts to show his face in the village."
Asato opened one eye. The scene swam into his vision just as the rock thrown by the speaker hit him in the shoulder and elicited a cry. One of the older guys holding a scary looking club and standing closest to him leaned down and grabbed him by the hair, lifting his face to him.
"So you thought it is all good, didn't you? Crops dying and us getting rain and lightning in the worst possible time because you're most likely calling upon your close relatives and your witch sister is brewing spells in your dirty little den."
Despite the pain and fear that occupied Asato's mind and kept him from looking at his attackers, the mention of his sister's name caused him to open his eyes. Though he never wanted to talk to them, just get it over and done with, he found himself pleading. "Please-- leave her alone."
The backhand he received was enough to knock him back down. He gasped to get air into his suddenly collapsing lungs when a kick to his side denied him even that. His slender body crumpled to the ground and stayed there, waiting for the rest, waiting for the blows and kicks that would soon rain down on him and change the blackness of the world into the familiar dark red. It wasn't a long wait.
Hisoka let out a scream that came out as silent as the underwater cries of a drowning child. He flailed against the horrid images that were coming to him like pieces of an armature horror film. A reception he had absolutely no control over. He could only helplessly watch as the gang of brutes and rowdy teenagers beat up a young and fragile Tsuzuki within inches of his life. He looked on as the boy who was a younger version of his partner curled onto himself to protect his body from the mistreatment and never fought back. Not that there was any sense in fighting against seven bullies. The attackers showed the fallen 17-year-old no mercy at all.
When they finally got tired of beating him the four younger ones left. But the older men didn't seem willing to let go of their prey. He saw them approach the still form of the half conscious boy with glinting eyes and expressions on their faces that Hisoka could only describe as disturbing. And then the unthinkable happened, as they knelt down beside him and grabbed hold of his torn clothes. What came next reminded Hisoka of Muraki and that night under the sakura trees, similar in its ugliness and impossibility to accept. Only here, there were three evil monsters defiling an innocent angel. It was so disgusting, so stomach-churning that Hisoka had to shut his eyes lest the depravity of it choked his soul.
Even mute, Hisoka couldn't stop the screams that kept rending his throat. He screamed with all his heart, willing to shatter the scene played out in front of him. He wished so badly that he could do something, but his rational mind understood that nothing could be done. It was a dream, even if it felt so damned real. His efforts were of no use because this wasn't something that was taking place right now but a sin committed over seventy years ago, when the boy who was the victim was still alive. Something that had been locked up deep within the gentle heart of the man who had been that boy, the man he loved with all his heart. A friend who held him when he hurt, listened to him when he cried, yet never let any of his own pain show on the surface. Thinking that this was what that man had gone through... the life he had led and now hid from everyone...it was enough to make him want to tear something apart.
But all he could do was to watch.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, looking at the dirty world through his blood and tear encrusted lids. He blinked a few times to make his vision clear, seeing the bed of leaves his cheek was resting on, the sideway shapes that seemed to be trees and the splatters of blood.
He tried to move but it was enough to make him gasp from pain, spikes of it shooting from every limb in his body. All his muscles were tense, contracted around his abdomen to make his body as small as possible. He tried again and managed to move his fingers, uncurling them to release the fistful of soil and dirt he had clutched from the ground. He took deep breaths, trying to ride through the pain and get the fear under control so that his body would move. With his eyes he surveyed the area for moving shadows but found none. His attackers were gone.
It could be so easy to just lie there and close his eyes. He didn't want to move just now. His body was sore and bleeding and his joints and muscles screaming to be left alone. There was pain in others parts of his body he didn't want to think about. He hated it. Hated the beatings and the words but what those older guys did to him...that, he hated the most. He blinked tears at his own weakness. He thought he had grown strong enough that he could finally fight back. He was 17 now. Why did they always have to gang up on him? Why did they never play fair? Why did everyone hate him? Those ruined crops... was it really his fault? Was he really the demon they called him?
If he could only get to Ruka, get home--
With a renewed effort that brought back the mind numbing pain, he shifted his body to try and unfold his joints. He knew he was close to home; wouldn't take long for him to get there if he tried, moving slowly if he had to. He just had to crawl a bit, just get past the grove and into the field. He then could use the slope of the ground to his advantage and get there faster.
If he endured a little more he would soon be home with his sister and she would take care of him. Never mind how embarrassed he would be that he had, once again, failed to defend himself. Never mind how worried and distressed she would be seeing him in that condition. It would be all right. It wasn't the first time he came home all covered in bruises and cuts. He wouldn't tell her about the rest of the things they did to him though. That, he would keep locked somewhere deep inside where not even his own mind could reach it.
He so wanted to just lie there and close his eyes. He needed the rest. Home was nice but before he moved, he needed to gather all the strength he could get. Maybe for just a second or two...
The red glow behind his eyelids was enough to draw him out of his daze. Painfully, he lifted swollen eyes toward the glowing light that came from beyond the trees. It was shifting, casting alternating shadows against the shrubberies. He could see the extremities of the fire reaching toward the sky, striving to rise above what was obscuring his view. His heart skipped a beat. There was something about the direction that glow came from that alarmed him, a direction that led to the only place he loved, the only person that loved him. It came from--their home.
"Nee-san!"
It was a scream in his head but came out as a whimper from his lips Fear coiled like a dead cobra inside his guts and forced him to put his arms under him and push his body off the ground. Pain shot through every single cell in his body. He bore it, wearing his lower lip with his teeth as he pushed off again and this time managed to get to his knees, then on his legs, and finally, with the help of a few branches to hang onto, stand on his feet.
He saw the fire. His adrenaline skyrocketed at the confirmation of his previous fear. There was a hellish blaze coming from the direction of his house. He took off on a run before his legs gave way and he landed on his face. Rising again, breathing heavily as he forced his mind to think straight, he began walking toward the house at a slower pace. Clutching his wounded shoulder and limping one step at a time closer to the source of the flames.
What he saw when he got there made his blood freeze. Their little hut was on fire, burning high and feral. There were people gathered all around it, the whole village seemed to have been assembled there. The fire was roaring; tearing bits and pieces of the roof with its scorching claws and flinging them everywhere.
In an instant Asato forgot about his pain and ran into the crowd, parting them like a summoned animal to get to the burning structure.
"Nee-san, nee-san!!!" he kept screaming through the raging blaze and the shouts and calls coming from the crowd. As he was getting closer to look inside the house when the heat of the burning flames and the flying sparks stopped him, forcing him to shield his face with his arm. "Nee-san!" he yelled again and leaped forward. Even wounded and bleeding the thought of leaving Ruka in that inferno was unbearable.
Someone latched onto him and held him back.
"Are you crazy, boy? You wanna get killed?"
He struggled against the restraining arms, screaming, "Let me go. Let me go. I have to save my nee-san."
Then he saw her. Lying on the ground in front of the house. Unconscious, unmoving, perhaps dead. Her hair fanned around her like a dark shadow and there where bruises and burns all over her skin.
His world plunged into darkness.
For and instant, just a fraction of a second, there was nothing but pure darkness around them with him and Ruka at the center of it. They were the only citizens of this dark and heartless world.
He felt the scream the moment it began churning up in his throat and coming out in a rush of furiously released breath. Not quite a human sound, more like the howl of a wild animal watching its den destroyed and its mate killed.
"RUKAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"
He was all blind rage and madness after that. He didn't know quite how he freed himself from the hands that were holding him and launched forward before more hands latched onto him. He struggled and screamed against them like a trapped beast, trying to get away and get closer to the house, to where his nee-san was lying.
"Let me go. I know who did this. I know why they did it. Let me go."
A voice rang in his ear, "Calm down, Asato. Your nee-san is alive. We just have to get her out of here."
"Liars, all liars. You said you wouldn't hurt her if I didn't resist. You said you'd leave her alone if I let you do to me what you wanted. Why didn't you keep your promise? Why did you hurt her? I thought I was the monster you all hate so much. I was the one who made your lives miserable. Why her-?"
His eyes bulged and his veins stood out at the sight of people approaching his sister's body and trying to lift it off the ground. "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH HER."
And that was it. With inhuman strength he didn't know he had he freed himself from the hands that held him and rushed to where Ruka's body was. The people around her ran off at the sight of him and, for once, he actually enjoyed it. He was a monster? He was a demon? Good. Let them be scared of him. Instantly, he turned toward the crowed that was looking at him with wide and shocked eyes. His back was to the burning house, fire blazing behind him like the forces of hell, adding to his eerie, demonic looks.
"You think you can do whatever you want?" he screamed out, "You hate us so much you couldn't even leave us our shabby little hut? Had to come here and take that away too? You. Don't. Know. What you messed with."
His eyes roamed over the crowd, catching a glimpse of some teenagers who looked like the gang that had attacked him. They where standing there looking at him like the rest of the crowd but through the shadows of the dancing flames, he thought he saw a smirk on their faces. His blood boiled hotter than the fire behind him, urging him to run to them and wipe those ignorant, evil smiles off. That was when he sensed movement at his side and turned to see people reaching for his sister again. His eyes glowed. His mouth twisted into a repellant grimace and his whole face changed into the likes of a grotesque carnival mask.
The men and women who were touching Ruka shrieked in fear and scrambled to back away. Yet it was already too late. Asato closed his eyes and all the muscles in his body tensed and bulked. Sparks and sizzles of white light started on the ground at the tips of his toes and, like a dynamite string put ablaze, whizzed and zigzagged on the dry grass going in all crazy directions. The crowd screamed at the sight, shifting their eyes from a wild haired Asato to the zooming, charging white flickers on the ground.
It was the last thing they saw.
Hisoka couldn't believe his eyes as he saw the blinding white explosion that covered everything in the next few seconds. All images disappeared, all sounds muted, leaving only the overwhelming, all encompassing bright glare and the lone figure standing at the center of it. After a frighteningly stretched moment of blindness and deafness, when the shock wave of the blast swept over the entire area, wiping everything but the dream visitor out of its way, Hisoka finally blinked and focused his eyes. What he saw strongly resembled a scene from a holocaust.
"Oh Gods, no. What did just happen?" he whispered.
He searched for young Tsuzuki, trying to find him through the burning remains of trees and walls and what chillingly looked like charred human bodies. Now he knew...Gods help him but he knew, the pain that Tsuzuki suffered, the magnitude of guilt he carried on his shoulders. So many people--they were all dead.
At last he found him. But it wasn't the young Tsuzuki he saw again. Not the 17-year-old dark haired youth with the bruised and wounded body. This was his Tsuzuki, the partner he knew and worried about so much.
He was standing there looking at the carnage with the same terrified eyes as Hisoka. Hisoka cried at him but this cry was as mute as the rest of his attempts at making a sound. He hated this aspect of his dream. Then he saw another person. Someone he had failed to spot before. A woman in a black robe and with light blond hair, standing a few feet away from the dazed and anguished Tsuzuki and staring at him with intense eyes. He didn't like the way she looked at him. He didn't like anything about that picture at all.
"You did this, didn't you?" She was speaking. Hisoka strained his ears to hear.
"Look at it."
"No."
"I said look at it. Open your eyes."
"Please..."
"This is your past. This is what you were before you became a shinigami. Demon. You became a shinigami to be punished for all these sins. Now your time is up. You have to come back to your original kin. You have to accept the truth."
Tsuzuki was holding his hands over his ears trying to block the horrible declarations. He looked around imploringly, searching the smoldering grounds for something, anything, that would give him comfort.
'I'm here Tsuzuki. Please, see me. You are not alone.'
But the purple gaze swept right past him and then turned to the ground. The woman's voice rang from his back like a witch's chanting of a spell. "You must return to us, Tsuzuki Asato. You are a doomed creature of darkness and there is no place for you in the world other than where you belong to. Come back to the fields of hell. Return and your suffering shall end."
Tsuzuki fell to his knees, grabbing his head with his hands and screaming. Screaming so loud the moon shattered.
Hisoka joined him with his own cries, loud and desperate, until he rent his throat and bolted out of his sleep.
The infirmary was calm and silent as it always was that late in the night. For once no one was around to rush to his side. It seemed like he could hear the echo of his own dying scream through the halls and corridors. He took a few deep, shuddering breaths and tried to calm his nerves. It took him a while to realize his whole body was drenched in sweat.
'Gods, let this end, please. Whatever crimes Tsuzuki and I have committed, please let the punishment be enough. Bring him back to me, please. Let this end.'
He curled on his side. Yearning, no needing to be held by Tsuzuki. Aching for his warmth and his touch to drive the coldness away, to chase the fear out of the night.
Because I'm not there with you.… When you need me, when you have those nightmares and you hurt.
He hadn't thought much about those words when they were spoken. Hadn't imagined how they were so true. How much he needed Tsuzuki in times like this, especially since Tsuzuki had been the one he had seen in those dreams, the source of his nightmares. It seemed only fair that he should be there for the comfort too.
But fairness had been light years away from them since this all had started. Hisoka folded his small body on the bed and closed his eyes, trying to shut out everything from his mind. Making sure with a pained and frozen heart that his thoughts were as far away from Tsuzuki as possible.
He couldn't tell which hurt worse. The nightmares he suffered because of his partner or the cold emptiness he was feeling now that he was detached from him
No one saw the shadow outside in the hallway, or heard the sinister laughter of the man listening in on the misery of the boy inside.
'Hope you enjoyed it, little kid. That'll teach you a lesson not to mess around with the mind of the one we are working on. It's a dangerous playground, you know. Tonight's happening has shown you just how far away you should stay from him, together with your nosy little empathetic mind.'
Isorou turned to leave, thoroughly satisfied with himself. Just before he lost sight of the room where the empath was resting he turned and took another peak, contemplating a thought. 'Hmm, perhaps the boy's more amusing than I thought. Should check on that sometime.'
With that thought in mind, the prosecutor turned the corner and walked away, his shoes clicking against the polished surface of the hallway floor and his mouth whistling a tune to the beat of the drumming rain outside.
tbc--
There you have it. Lots of foreshadowing for the coming chapters. All for the snowball plot that just keeps coming (I'll have to strangle my muse at some point.)
The flashback probably didn't have much to do with the plot but I added it anyway. I always wanted to write my own version of what happened on that faithful night when Tsuzuki lost his mind and landed in a hospital for eight years.
Some of you might think Ayaka was totally out of character here compared to what she was like in the last chapter. Well, as most of you might have guessed, this is all part of a grand scheme. One that is slowly being revealed as we approach the conclusion of the story.
Blabla bla blablabla bla review blablabla bla bla please blabla blablablabla... Ok? ;)
Let me say it this way, your ideas have an effect on the way the story moves ahead so please don't hold anything back. Give me your piece of mind about characters, settings and situations and what you see happening in the future. It helps to improve my work.