When last we left our trio of caseworkers of the dead, they had started on their journey through the dark and windy bowels of the dungeon of the Castle of Candles' basement, foremost in mind the end goal that was to catch the demon Fluffy on the fifth floor and return the basement to its original ectological state, in the meantime vanquishing whatever undead Fluffy in his havoc-wrecking invited over to their side that they should encounter, but they encountered difficulties in the process of finding their way to the second floor in the form of mazes and so-titled Rooms of Mystery that temporarily detained them from their quest, during which time Tsuzuki's suffering — if it may so be called — was limited to one hundred desire-manifested Hijiris, until the threesome found the stairwell and upon reaching the second floor landing found themselves in an encounter of a more random kind. . . .
Across from them, another threesome of the living dead moaned and there was much gnashing of teeth. Their limbs swung deceptively lifeless from their crooked postures beneath tattered clothing. The beasts that resembled pictures in a science book of mammal-like reptiles from the Permian period, except several times more menacing, crouched and slithered between them, their eyes and dripping fangs glowing through the shadows that perpetually enshrouded them.
Wakaba gripped her halberd and said, "It's show time!"
Tsuzuki blinked. "This sounds very familiar. . . ."
"That's because it's a recap, dumbass," said Terazuma.
"Oh, is it?"
"What are you two waiting for?" quipped Wakaba. "Your time gage to fill up?"
And before her two companions could think up some witty retort, she charged forward, straight and quick as an arrow from years of practice dealing with the parasitic alter ego of her partner, and cleaved the zombie nearly in two from hip to shoulder with one skilled upper cut. The zombie collapsed in a dusty heap and twitched a little but didn't get up, clearly no match for her awesome halberd-wielding powers.
Encouraged by the ease with which his partner had dispatched the one, Terazuma took up his shotgun and unloaded it in the other two, disarming them, literally, one limb at a time. The crack of body parts was even more gruesomely like a dry twig snapping than in the arcade game.
The dark beasts were more organized, however, and no simple game. While Wakaba's attention was distracted with one of them, she did not see the other sneaking round to the other side, and crouching ready to spring and strike. "Look out, Wakaba!" Tsuzuki called, and it was then she looked up only to see the thing bearing down on her from above—
And fall hard against the shield raised by Tsuzuki's fuda, its open maw and beefy talons straining to break the power of the wavering strip of paper. Overcoming her brush with danger, Wakaba dropped the halberd and pulled a MAC-10 from her waistband, taking aim at the beast to her right and unleashing a stream of bullets at its hard head. Blinded and with a scream of outrage, it backed off and joined its companion, which had leaped away with a snarl of frustration from the fuda, which now lay smoldering on the dungeon floor. Before it could even reach the ground Tsuzuki had reached into his jacket and replaced it. Murmuring a quick chant and letting it go, the fuda burst into balls of fire that quickly engulfed the defiant beasts.
The shinigami were still for a moment as silence descended on the hall and the walls slowly changed back to normal. Then the tension was interrupted when Tsuzuki and Wakaba clapped hands.
"Yatta! We did it!" they said, suddenly all smiles. "That wasn't so difficult after all," said Tsuzuki.
"Nope," chimed Wakaba. "Although the first ones are always the easiest."
"But with our superior skill levels, we should reach Fluffy in no time. His petty minions are no match for us."
"Aw, but overkills are no fun either. I was hoping for a little more of a challenge."
"You sadistic little over-achiever," Tsuzuki said, grinning and tussling her hair. "You enjoy beating up on demons, don't you?"
"I guess so," she said sheepishly, one hand behind her head. "It seems to be my nurturing instinct."
The two shared a hearty laugh.
Terazuma watched them warily out of the corner of his eye. "I expected this of him," he mumbled, "but this is a side of you I've never seen, Kannuki."
The other two became serious.
"What are you saying, Hajime?" Wakaba asked him. She brushed off her pleated skirt in a sudden fit of feminine self-consciousness. "Do you find it unbecoming?"
"Well, er, it's not that so much . . ." Mentally, much more so than outwardly, Terazuma panicked. He couldn't just out and say he thought it wasn't very becoming, because though it may have been true that it didn't quite match with her kind nature without coming off a tad creepy, it did add another dimension to the respect he had for her as a partner already — and, somehow, saying that felt like it would be admitting to a fault. Or perhaps it was because her toughness turned him on. That and, of course, that there was no way in Hell he was going to give Tsuzuki a reason to think he was mushy.
"You're really good with the halberd," he settled for.
Wakaba beamed. "Thank you. You're not too bad with that shotgun either. Good thing zombies are so weak against physical attacks."
"That's right," Tsuzuki said to himself. "Most evil spirits are only susceptible to spiritual attacks. But zombies are human, aren't they? Or, at least, were. . . ."
"Well, keep 'em coming. I'd rather meet up with more of them down here than these puppies," said Terazuma. He kicked the pile of smoldering animal corpses and recoiled, fanning the air. "Damn. Smells like a wet dog in here." And he promptly lit another cigarette.
As the three journeyed on through the dark and ancient hallways that made up the Castle of Candles' basement, they did encounter zombies of various numbers and dispositions, all of which were quickly disposed of. It was beginning to seem that this mission of the Earl's was not such a terrible chore after all. They were making good progress and, if they were honest, enjoying themselves a little bit. Little did they know that something was tracking their movements.
The space around them warped once again as they arrived at a fork in the way and when it cleared, zombies were not the only thing to greet them. A pair of girls, white and diaphanous like ghosts, watched their battle from the corners of the intersection, floating in the air high up on the wall. But when the last of the zombies fell, the amused smiles they had been wearing turned to frightened gasps and they retreated down one hallway without making a sound.
"Cowards! Come back and fight like a man!" Terazuma called after them. He fired one shot down the hall and growled. "I'm going after them."
"Don't bother," Wakaba said. "We have to press onward."
"But they're going back for reinforcements! We should stop them now before they have a chance."
"Not everything in Hakushaku's castle is malevolent," Tsuzuki said, prompting a told-you-so look from Wakaba. "But, then again, with Fluffy running things, you can't be sure everything down here doesn't want to eat you, either."
"See?" said Terazuma. "Trust no one."
Wakaba sighed. "You two are being paranoid. Those cute little girls wouldn't hurt anyone. I'm sure the violence just scared them away."
"Cute? I've seen warmer smiles on the Kanawa sisters. Camel spiders look cute too, until they rip a chunk the size of a dinner plate out of your new tires." He looked around suspiciously, ears twitching.
Then he winced as Wakaba grabbed the point of his ear in a pinch using a handkerchief to keep their skin from touching. "Come on," she said, "the map says we should go this way," and led him protesting down the opposite hallway.
They hadn't gone far when a low growl, like a rattlesnake's warning rattle, made them stop in their tracks. Up ahead the hall was dark. The fluorescent light struggled to remain on, and with each spastic flicker they caught a glimpse of the things that crouched and coiled beneath them. A brood of dark, nearly hairless feline bodies each as big as a Chevy Impala rippled under patterns of scar-like stripes from bulging masses of muscles. Their claws extended in their massive feet, their ugly simian faces bared their awesome, flesh-rending canines. Their whip-like tails, each as long as an anaconda, twitched and curled around them, and in the pulsating light the razor sharp ends flashed dangerously.
The shinigami's spirits fell.
"Manticores," Tsuzuki groaned. "I hate manticores."
Now from behind the manticores they heard a haughty giggle, and the girls in white who had watched them just a few minutes ago appeared among the beasts, their smiles anything but innocent. "You'll be sorry you ever crossed us," they said in mellifluous voices. "Consider this payback for killing our playmates."
Terazuma threw his hands up in the air. "I told you guys they were evil!"
One of the girls extended her arm and pointed at the shinigami. "Devour them, minions!" she yelled, and the manticores sprang forward.
Tsuzuki was ready with a shield when they did. It crackled when it came in contact with the beasts, and the three could smell searing flesh, but it held. "We'll have to split up," he yelled over the noise. "Did you see how the manticores were only incited to attack after those girls ordered them to? One of us has to take those girls out!"
"I'm on it," Terazuma said, dashing out from under the shield.
"No, wait—" Wakaba started, but he couldn't hear them. "He only has that shotgun, and it won't do him much good against spiritual bodies."
She looked to Tsuzuki for support, but he said nothing and kept his eyes focused on the beasts that surrounded them. Wakaba fired the MAC-10s at those that were closest.
Sliding to a dramatic halt, glaring down the barrel of the shotgun, Terazuma said, "Eat lead, you bitches!" and fired twice at the girls in white.
His aim was perfect. Unfortunately, the shots passed right through them.
"Oh. You're the one who fired at us in the hallway," said one — much too gleefully in his opinion.
He grinned. "That's right."
"You're a bad man!" said the other. "We hate you!"
"Yeah, well, sticks and stones, ladies," Terazuma said as he reloaded. "If that's all you got—"
But that was all he could say before, without any further encouragement, the two opened their mouths wide and let out an ear-splitting scream. The three shinigami immediately covered their ears. The sound only seemed to incite the creatures further. With great gorilla-like roars they doubled their efforts.
Tsuzuki dodged a tail whip. "Nice strategy, Terazuma," he said under his breath. "Real diplomatic."
"How was I supposed to know they'd do that?" he shouted in his own defense, grunting as Wakaba pulled him back by his sleeve. "Concentrate on the manticores," she told them. "Physical attacks are useless against banshees."
"I see that now, but thanks, Captain Obvious," Terazuma muttered, though his frustration was reserved for the two spirits rather than his partner. He turned and covered her back, pumping a shell into the nearest beast's shoulder. It howled and cringed, but was not out of the action for long, despite the chunk taken out of its flesh. Rearing on its hind legs, its intent could not be mistaken as it came at him, talons bared.
Terazuma backed up, but only felt the cold, hard stone wall at his back. Without hesitation, he did the next thing that came to mind. He aimed for the eyes. And when the distracted beast reared up he dove under its belly and turned onto his back, reaching into his coat as he did so. A fuda stuck to that softer skin and a quick charm caused the point of contact to erupt straight out the back of the paper. The manticore collapsed, nearly on top of him.
Tsuzuki sent another fuda in the form of an arrow of flame into the face of one of the manticores. Caught off its guard, it turned its back on him on instinct and lashed at him with its long, deadly tail. He was forced to leap out of the way, but not without incurring a scratch over the top of one thigh from the blade-like edge of the tail. He winced, throwing up another charm as one of its companions went for him like a fish for a fly, baring its ugly primate canines.
It was no good keeping this up. The fuda only worked for a little while on such persistent creatures as these manticores. It was time to bring out the big guns. He put his hands together.
"I prostrate myself and present my wish before you, defender of the East, of the twelve gods who protect me! You who bears the blade of the atmosphere, the steel of the vacuum, fangs of white silver, show your form before me! Byakko!"
As he chanted, the very air around him began to coalesce, before long swirling in a white whirlwind of particles that seemed to come from another plane. And when he called the name, it gathered and took the shape of a titanic white tiger, its hair bristled, crouching over him and zeroing in on and baring its giant fangs at the enemy it instantly recognized. Byakko opened his mouth wide, summoning his element to him as though taking in a deep breath; and when he let it out again, it shot out like a solar wind, enveloping the remaining manticores and obliterating them as they roared in anguish.
The banshees stared wide-eyed, sucking in a breath.
"Now for these two," said Wakaba grinning as she pulled a blank fuda from her blouse. As it balanced as though shackled in midair, she traced something invisible on it rapidly with her fingers, spreading her handiwork out into thin air. With a whoosh, the paper flared up with an unearthly glow. A single eye opened out of that point, and the banshees panicked and tried to flee, but found themselves pinned where they were.
"Aeons of the abyss," Wakaba said at last, "who keep the gates of space and time, send these two of your servants back from whence they came!"
There was a terrifying sound as the banshees tried one last time to resist their fate. But then they vanished, quite literally, in the blink of an eye, leaving only faint echoes of their screams in the wide chamber. Then silence.
Tsuzuki let out a long sigh. "That was close," he said, slumping his shoulders a little. Byakko nipped his jacket shoulder gently in place of a morale boost. "How much more of this do we have to take?"
"Beats me," Terazuma sympathized. "But, if I may gloat just this once, I did warn you guys."
"Yeah, yeah, you were right about the girls, Terazuma. At least we had a gate keeper with us to clean things up, right?" Tsuzuki gave Wakaba a fatherly pat on the back. "Where did you send those two anyway?"
"I don't know," Wakaba said. "Chijou maybe. Banshees aren't supposed to hurt people. Just scare grave robbers away. I'm surprised they didn't recognize us as Juuohcho employees."
"That's right," Tsuzuki said, though Terazuma still looked skeptical. "Fluffy must be controlling them. We have to get to him before he can do any more damage to the Castle." Although, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his stomach let out another round of gurgles loud enough to echo in the hallway. Grimacing, he put his arms around himself. "But first . . ."
"Aw, jeez. Again?" said Terazuma.
Wakaba took out the GPS. "Let me locate the nearest restroom."
—
Meanwhile, above ground, in the cherry grove. . . .
The glowing lines of Muraki's spell, a pentagram drawn in the air, flashed as they shattered into pieces; and the surge of shadows with which it had collided dissipated faster than incense smoke rising in the air. He stumbled back as though he himself had felt the jar of the impact, falling to one knee to take stock as he regained his strength. He had thrown everything he had at his opponent. Summoned dragons, imps, skeletal leviathans and beasts possessed by malicious lusts, black magic, chi — none of it did much good for very long. The sinewy, nebulous shapes made by the shadows destroyed them all eventually. But while he had made little progress to detain or injure the secretary, the secretary's shadowy attacks and noble threats of revenge had in turn had little effect against him. It was not for lack of trying. Too many times already he had felt the chill of that living darkness come too close for his comfort as it strained to cut through his defenses.
Yet even in the face of mortal danger, his heart pounded with the thrill of it. The almost sexual excitement.
He was breathing hard. The secretary may not have injured him, but he had worn him down. That was just as jeopardous. A swirl of white energy around himself was all Muraki could summon now in his own defense.
But his careful eye did not miss the way the shadows dispersed after his own attack. Both attacks had been strong, beautiful, moving forward with the desperation of men at their limits. Both had failed. He understood his opponent perfectly. Tatsumi was tiring. The spiritual energy required to maintain the shadows' solid form would wear on even the strongest shadow user inevitably. He had known it was only a question of when until they were on equal ground again. He was confident that time was now.
Still, the secretary's voice was strong when he called out tauntingly to Muraki through the low mist: "Is that all you have for me, Doctor?"
Muraki's lips widened into a sneer. "No. Not all."
From his crouch he sprang at Tatsumi like a predatory cat, fist flying through the air toward the secretary's face. Tatsumi dodged on instinct, his reaction graceful, but there was something of a slight stumble in his mental concentration to prove that Muraki had caught him at a weak moment. With a grunt, Tatsumi projected what energy he could to throw his opponent off: a lacking but powerful enough wind to make the fallen petals sting as they blew across Muraki's skin. He brought his arms up to his face as a shield.
When his vision cleared, he saw Tatsumi had used the opportunity to grab a garden rake that had been left against one of the trees. He saw the flimsy yet sharp metal teeth sailing toward his head and sidestepped at the last moment. Tatsumi didn't miss a beat, and swung the other end of the rake in Muraki's direction. Muraki blocked it.
He allowed himself to be backed up a few steps, perhaps in part so that he might witness the secretary's skill before crushing him, like a cat plays with an insect. Perhaps in part to better time his attack. He absorbed a few blows to the shoulder before catching the rake in one hand, and smashing the strong oak handle with the palm of the other. The wood shattered and splintered. The hard look in Tatsumi's eyes did not even waver as he took a step back, and discarded the worthless halves of the rake without even a glance.
"Your weapons are useless against me," Muraki quipped. A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he gazed at the secretary over the rims of his glasses. "You should know I have a black belt in karate, among other things."
"Wing Chun," Tatsumi said, arranging himself fluidly into a prepared stance.
Muraki snorted amusedly to himself. "Then it's a fact. We are well matched physically as well as metaphysically. This should be interesting, from a scientific standpoint." He pushed his glasses up to a better position with a finger to the bridge.
"Is that your professional opinion?" Tatsumi came back as he adjusted his with his thumb and fingertips on the bottom corners of the lenses.
"Quite."
This time Tatsumi made the first move. As fast and smooth as the shadows he conjured, his hands jabbed at Muraki. And Muraki brought up his arms to deflect his blows, countering with some of his own. He went for a kick. Tatsumi blocked it and tried to pin his leg with his own. Muraki slid out of it and went for the gut. A hand was there to stop his arm as Tatsumi turned out of the way, and Muraki barely dodged the palm of his other hand as it went for his jaw.
They went on like this for some time, attempting and blocking each other's blows, moving one another back and forth, gaining a bit of ground and losing it. They struck with such speed and blocked with such accuracy as to suggest that each was in tune with the other's mind and body, almost as though he was able to know what the other would do before he did it. They went all out, but it soon became apparent to Muraki they were both tiring. Yet neither would be able to surrender and admit defeat, where to do such a thing might mean something worse than death. Shame. They were like souls, neither letting the possibility enter his mind.
At last Tatsumi was able to push Muraki back until he had him pinned against the gnarled trunk of one of the cherries. Getting nowhere with blows, it became a grappling match, Muraki desperate to shove his captor's weight off, Tatsumi trying with all his might to keep his enemy pinned. Their breathing was hard, strained. Muraki could feel the sweat running down Tatsumi's wrist, and down his own face, making his glasses slip farther down his nose.
"What are you waiting for, Tatsumi-san?" he said through gritted teeth. "Aren't you going to have your wicked way with me?"
Tatsumi narrowed his eyes. "Pardon?"
"I'm talking about killing me. Isn't that what you've been waiting all these years to do, to get revenge for everything I've done to your dearest friends?"
"I would ask you the same thing, Muraki. After all, I've caused you enough embarrassment over the years. You do have a villainous reputation to keep up."
"Ridiculous," Muraki grunted. "Why would I, after finally having the opportunity to fight my one true rival face to face, want to go and kill him? Even if I could?"
"I hardly believe you would just let him kill you, either," Tatsumi said, trying to scrunch his glasses back up his nose. "Could it be you've reached the limit of your strength, Muraki?"
"Isn't the same true of you?"
For a long, tense moment the two stared into each other's eyes, their muscles straining against one another while cherry blossom petals drifted down around them like snowflakes, signifying the transience of life. Muraki could read Tatsumi's desire, and Tatsumi his. They came to a silent agreement.
They released their grip and quickly pushed their glasses back up. Then they resumed positions.
"It appears we've reached a stalemate," Tatsumi said.
A wicked smile spread on Muraki's lips. "Admit it, Mr Secretary," he said in a low voice, "you've found this experience invigorating. You've never seen such chi that so closely matches your own. It fills a hole in your existence. You know in your heart you don't want to kill me. You can't."
"Perhaps not this time," Tatsumi hissed. "But not for the reason you think. There is too much at stake, too much risk. However, I won't forget this night. I still plan to have my revenge."
"Certainly, certainly," Muraki grunted under his weight, "but what do we do in the meantime?"
"The only thing two evenly matched opponents can do in a situation such as this," Tatsumi said with gravity, and Muraki grinned a knowing grin.
—
"How long has it been?"
Terazuma looked at his watch again. He hadn't noticed the time when they got here, so he couldn't actually say how much time had passed, but he knew it was a lot. "I told you I don't know," he said irritably. He uncrossed his legs and switched their positions as he leaned against the antiseptic-white tiles that lined the hall leading back to the public toilets. Next to the pay phone, Wakaba stood examining the dungeon map on the GPS and planning their next move. "Shit. If this keeps up, we'll be down here all night. What level are we on, anyway?"
"The third."
"Thank God. Half way there."
"Somehow I have a feeling we won't get off that easy."
As though in direct response to her words, the lights suddenly flickered and dimmed. Around them the walls seemed to hum and vaguely shake, but as soon as they fell silent to hear it better it faded away, like a distant train running on. The muzak continued uninterrupted. "That's not another random encounter," Terazuma said quietly. Beside him Wakaba shrugged.
The men's room door swung open and a much more refreshed-looking Tsuzuki stepped out to join them in the narrow, winding hallway. "Finally," Terazuma grumbled. He retrieved his lighter and held it to the cigarette that dangled from his lips. "Must have been some really bad shrimp. I thought if you took any longer we might actually have to go in there after you. —Except we didn't bring any gas masks."
Looking up from his jacket buttons, Tsuzuki glowered. "That's not funny. Hey—" He plucked the cigarette from Terazuma's mouth, much to the other's irritation. "Hakushaku said there was no smoking down here."
"Come on! My nerves are fried. If you heard that rumbling a minute ago—"
"What rumbling?" said Tsuzuki. "Hey, I've had enough of your jabs—"
"You didn't hear it?" said Wakaba. When he didn't respond she said as though to herself: "Huh. Maybe the old pipes . . . Well. Tsuzuki, if you're feeling better, we should get back to work. While you were in there I found a shortcut to the stairs down."
"Good," Terazuma said. "I hope they change the song, too. It's been playing nonstop since we entered the dungeon."
"You don't like 'Night Ferryboat'?" said Tsuzuki. "It's a classic."
"It's annoying."
"It feels like I'm stuck in a love sim and can't get to the next level," said Wakaba.
"Story of my life," Terazuma muttered to himself.
Wakaba smiled. "I don't expect Tsuzuki has any problems like that, though. What with a lively young partner like Kurosaki-kun."
Terazuma nearly spat out his cigarette. Tsuzuki started. "What's that— What are you implying, Wakaba?"
"Don't take that innocent tone with me, Tsuzuki-san," she said, waving a knowing finger at him. "I know what's going on in those heads of yours, the way you two are always looking at each other with furtive glances . . . Gosh, when are you guys going to admit it?"
"You've got it all wrong! I see him as more of a little brother I never had." Tsuzuki laughed nervously. "Besides, Hisoka isn't that kind of guy."
"Why are you asking him this crap, Kannuki?" Terazuma said, looking more than a little uncomfortable, especially with Tsuzuki's last comment. "You drop your mind in a gutter somewhere back there?"
"I'm envious," Wakaba said with a shrug. "At least they can touch each other. Of course, I wouldn't trade my grumpy-wumpy Hajime-chan for any other partner in the world!" she crooned.
Terazuma inched away.
"And anyway, in our case, I figured we all get our dues. That's why I don't mind Hajime's condition."
He looked down to hide the faint coloring of his cheeks. "When you say it that way, Kannuki, it sounds like I have some kind of . . . deficiency."
"I prefer to look it from a more positive point of view. Divine punishment."
The two men gave her a sideways glance. "You call that positive?" said Tsuzuki in a small voice.
"M-m. If it's something you had some control over when you were alive. Like, maybe Hajime's not being able to be intimate with a woman is because of a philanderous lifestyle."
Quite unexpectedly, Terazuma started. "Who told you about that?"
"Bz-z-zt!" Tsuzuki pointed at him. "I believe the correct response, Hajime-chan, is 'I don't know what the hell you're talking about.'"
He laughed quietly to himself. The other's hair stood on end as he glared. "It was just a poor decision made in haste, is all," Terazuma said in his own defense. "I should have been more thorough in asking the bastard what he meant by 'symbiotic relationship.' Like a life of slavery!" he yelled to himself, tapping his own temple with a finger.
"Hm, I guess it pays to listen to your sempai's pointers after all," said Tsuzuki. Terazuma growled.
"Hm, speaking of which," Wakaba said, thumb raised thoughtfully to her lower lip, "Hajime, I'm thinking the next time we get into an encounter with anything other than zombies you should let me bring out Kuro-chan."
Terazuma balked, cringing like she had somehow violated him. "Why do you want to bring him into this?" he said, voice rising in pitch. "I can't be held responsible for what he'll do! And, anyway, it's very taxing on me. More so than you realize."
"But it would be worth it, don't you think? It would be a great help to us, to let him take over for a little bit until we can find Fluffy."
"Absolutely not. I cannot condone such capricious use of my body." He nodded once defiantly. The other two just ignored his posturing and continued on their way out of the tiled hall. Resigning himself and blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth as he muttered something about getting no respect, Terazuma trudged after them.
—
to be continue..