Chikai Chapter 2: Part Two, a yami no matsuei fanfic

Chikai

Part Two

'Your love and pitydoth th'impression fill

Which vulgar sacndal stamped upon my brow;

For what care I who calls me well or ill,

So o'er-green my bad, my good allow?

You are my all the world, and I must strive

To know my shames and praises from your tongue---

None else to me, nor I to none alive,

That my steeled sense or changes, right or wrong.

In so profound abysss I throw all care

Of others' voices that my adder's sense

To critic and to flatter stoppèd are.

Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:

You are so strongly in my purpose bred

That all the world besides, methinks, they're dead.

"Muzukashii," Tsuzuki had said. "Muzukashii!" Is all he could say; or rather, try to reason out to his companion that night, as lips met lips. He was a bit drunk, which was his state almost every night after work, and he doesn't even know why he even bothers to go down to Chijou and surround himself with that surreal picture in every bar he goes to. It was another day of work; he had just finished a case and now he was sulking again.

Drinking, was more like it, actually.

It all started out as usual. He starts to get drunk, and next thing he knows, he's talking to osme stranger or to some girl or hooker or whatever. Why does he even bother anyway? Why is this rhethorical question still rhethorical? Why are things so fucking hard, he thought. If things were easy, his brain answered, then what use would your achievement be? No, no, that wasn't his brain, it was this girl. . .This girl with her little black dress, her tiny bag of glitter, and her silky hair of ebony embracing her curvaceous body. What is she even doing in this bar, with two empty shot glasses in front of her, another one half-empty, her long silky arms in front of her on the table. (he better rub his eyes now, its beginning to get a little hazy) He must've asked that question out loud, since she was smiling at him in that weird way, the look in her eyes telling him secrets of her own, but never revealing themselves out right.

"Aren't you gonna go home yet?" She asked him, while she flicked her cigarrette case open. "It's getting pretty late; your girl must be worried." She took one out and lighted it; she inhaled deep, and blew out almost sexily, if it weren't for the sake swimming in his head.

"Girl? What girl?" He huffed.

She raised an eyebrow and smiled even wider. "What's a guy like you doing without a girl?"

"I told you, he doesn't even care," He suddenly burst out.

"Guy?" She blinked. "Interesting. . .Tell me, are you straight?" She faced him now, her full attention fixed on him now.

"Huh? No. . ."

"Bi?"

"Whatever you call it. . ." He shurgged.

They both fell silent as she stared at him, her cigarrette lay neglected in the ashtray the bartender had placed beside her not too long ago. He noticed her staring and returned the gaze. . .She must've said something, or he must've said or done something, because the next thing he knew, he was lying on a bed, with a very attractive girl beside him. He immediately got up and went home after that.

Last thing he thought before going home was, Oh shit.

Little did he know that tomorrow would hold him subject to a very painful headache, a heartache, and a lot of frustrations. And so, he would wake up a few hours later, groggy and he would be crying on his knees.

Kurosaki Hisoka was not in the mood to talk to anyone later on that day. His mind was clearly preoccupied and he was seething like a cat that was obviously given a bath by its truly naive master of ribbons and dolls with soft curls embracing the lovely face. He was perpetually clutching a white-covered something, and he had this look of uncertainty on his face, lingering for a second or two, and was let go to be reborn as a scowl that could have killed the sakura tree that he was staring at. His shoulders were bunched up as he sat on the cool grass underneath the shadow of the sakura tree he was currently murdering with his death glare; the green eyes marred with perplexity and arrogance mostly seen in teenagers nowadays. He sat, legs outsrtetched and crossed at the ankles, his back leaned against the building wall, careless of everything around him. He had chosen a spot on where one could onyl see another individual underneatht he sahde and the distractions if they were to squint realy hard from a distance and walk over o make sure they weren't going crazy after someone high and mighty put a Death Seal on them. His flaxen hair riding along with thte wind, he was a sight utterly beautiful, not just to the bholder and the enthralled, but even to the most seductive serpentress, he would be the epitome of sin and adultery if one would set eyes on him now. (Minus the denim jacket and the orange shirt he oh-so-loved to wear, and minus the scowl, with lots of flower peatls adorning the bed one would love to lay him on, he would be the basis of not few wet dreams if ever they saw him liek that.)

Another individual had spied on him, by chance, or maybe not, and he was intrigued, once again, by the seriosness of the air surrounding the boy. His curiosity piqued, he turned away from the path he earlier wanted to take, on his way to a little researching down in Chijou. He let a sigh of exasperation as he brushed his own long locks of flaxen strands that dared to block his view of the young naivete and let an amused smile tug on his mouth. Hands placed innocently behind his back, with his companion hooting softly in his ear, he let his long legs walk him to the place where the empath sat himself, no regards or whatsoever with the world.

He could not help but feel, regretfully too, that he was slowly becoming a. . .voyeur. To be more blunt, a stalker.

"Ahem," He cleared his throat as he stopped inches away from where 'Soka-chan sat. Green eyes snapped up in ire and rested on him, his own hazel-brown eyes caressing them as they met each other's gaze. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?" He smiled wider, as he glanced at the clear blue of the sky.

It took Hisoka a minute or two before he answered, and a dry Yes came like the taste of a posicle stick you've been chweing on since you couldn't buy another ice cream pop because of the lack of money in your pocket.

"What do you want, Watari-san?" Hisoka spat as he continued murdering the aforementioned tree. He leaned against the building wall. His hands rested themselves on his lap, a frown marring his angelic face.

"I just wanted to say hello," The scientist said, and peered cheerfully through spectacled-eyes and his white lab coat fluttered in time witht he wind. "By the looks of it, you're not having a very good day, aren't you?" He asked, as he bent forward a little, a curious and pitying look on his face; he tilted his head to the side and waited.

"No," Hisoka admitted. He swallowed the lump in his throat the had been threatening release earlier after Kachou talked to him.

"May I?" Watari gestured suddenly to the younger Shingami's left (facing him) as Hisoka's head bent down and sagged in its joints; as desperate and furious look mingling in his face, unsure of what to feel and and what to express, and it turned into one of his signature scowls instead, as he looked up once more at Watari. Hisoka merely shurgged in reply.

Really now, what could have made this dear boy depressed?

Watari sat down beside him and amazingly, 'Soka-chan had let him place an arm around him, drwaing the younger one to the warmth of his chest and the nest of curly-blond hair, and soon, a shudder overcame Hisoka's shoulders, and a series of hiccups followed the raking sobs.

He woke up at the usual time, at the usual place (should he have woken up somwehere else?) and in the usual manner he did as always. The only difference, was that nowadays, he had been sporting a series of (unfortunately) excruciatingly painful headaches that throbbed right through every bone and sinew that composed his body, and made him feel like he was a soggy piece of paper left too long under the rain and washed down the drain.

He had his head in his hands, firmly clutching his hair to keep himself from nodding into his paperwork. He hasn't had breakfast, he hasn't had any lunch, and everyone seems to be avoiding him, besides their secretary who kept hounding him since he came in that morning for the paperwork he should have turned in yesterday---which was the last day, supposedly for their other case three days before that day. His eyes were grazing every surface with a lazy rhythm and he almost knocked down the cup of coffee Wakaba-chan had left on his desk to at least help him with his headache and would 003 stop staring at him as if he was the worst person in the world? And where the heck did he come from all of a sudden? Shouldn't he be with Watari or something? Shouldn't he be doinf something else rather than stare at him like that?

Damn, he thought, I'm getting furious with a bird. He closed his eyes and let a sigh of annoyance. A shadow fell on his desk and as he looked up, a pair of dark blue eyes bore deep in his amethyst; the resigned nature of the newcomer was so natural to him, it was instinct, and he acknowledged the presence with an almost incoherent Hey, Tatsumi.

"I'm guessing you have a hangover." Came the dry statement of the obvious; arms crossed in front his vest and glasses perfectly placed on the bridge of his nose, he still reached a hand and pushed it higher in place, a manner in which everybody would be able to identfy as the thing their highly procclaimed kagetsukai's sign of dead seriousness.

Tsuzuki mumbled something. His mouth felt, oddly, like a huge ball of wet paper. It tasted like it too.

"Tsuzuki, if you show up like this everyday to work, you won't be able to accomplish anything even if you tried to," Tatsumi said, his voice still controlled.

"I'm sorry," Tsuzuki replied, almost forcibly, and shrugged his shoulders at Tatsumi. Only he could muster enough courage to actually shrug his shoulders at their resident Kagetsukai, and only he could withstand the secretary's death-glare, raised to Level 3 for all he cares, and he would stand it everyday, if he had to, sicne he didn't plan on quitting his drinking. He didn't quite feel like it. Besides, his subconcious was the one talking fro him right now, and he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to give Tatsumi enough respect to keep his glasses on. For today, anyway.

"Sorry wouldn't cut it!" Tatsumi's voice hitched a tone higher, as his face turned into a scowl. He seemed to notice and his face regained its usual placid look and controlled his voice once again. "I'm just asking you to at least minimize the amount of liquor you actually gurgle down that throat of yours, enough for you to do your work the way you should be."

To Tsuzuki, tatsumi's voice started out as a live wire crackling in the crisp afternoon air, in summer, and it gradually became an incessant screaming in his head, and for a minute, he thought he would end up tackling Tatsumi to the ground and choke the kagetsuaki to a coma. In the middle of Tatsumi's statement, he had stood up and was facing the secretary with his full height. He was roughly as tall as Tatsumi, and the devilish glint his eyes must've thrown off some of Tatsumi's ever-so-cared-for composure, and he saw the light in those blue orbs falter a little.

"Why can't everybody leave me alone for a change?! You're not my fucking mother, and will you stop acting like one?! You're beginning to act like Hisoka!" He spat out. There. That was done. Wasn't that good? Wait. He just shouted at Tatsumi. The Tatsumi Seichiro of the Shokan. The Kagetsukai. The Secretary... the...

"I would ignore the blatant confession, normally, but I think this is too persona that it comes in the way of your work. Tsuzuki, we need to talk." Tatsumi's voice was surprisingly calm, for someone who was insulted and shouted at.

Wakaba and Terazuma had scurred outside the door they had been there since the start of the conversation, and they had been too scared and uncertain to escape because, unfortunately for them, they could actually see and even feel the shadows growing from Tatsumi's own, and the secretary's wrath was growing by the second; the shadows ere holding up obsidian knives, unbeknownst to Tsuzuki who sat there looking up at Tatsumi like any other guy with a hangover and feeling all angsty and shitty. So they did, and they were very happy to be able to. Tatsumi regarded them with no care in the corner of his eye as they did so.

Tsuzuki caught himself and sank in his chair, feeling his chest heaving up and down, theair unwilling to circulate through his veins and pump air in his heart. His cehst ached like hell, and his head throbbed like the vibration of a million cellphones and the crackling sound of electricity mixed with the sound of crumpling paper too loud to ignore was lingering in the back of his head. His hands trembled and he stared at them in defeat as a pair of arms surrounded his shoulders and helped him on his feet. Tatsumi's office seemed to be so inviting as they approached the open door, and as the door closed, a sob rose to his throat, and a miserable moan escaped his chest to hover in the air.

to be continued. . .

Chikai

(Close)

by Aki Konoe

Plotmaster/s: Aki Konoe

Beta-master/s: Aki Konoe

Disclaimer/s: I own nothing. Not even my soul.

Translation/s: Muzukashii---hard; difficult

Author's Note/s: You guys really thought I wasn't going to continue it, huh? Actually, I wasn't. I love leaving people hanging. And I love Cliffies (back off, they're mine!) Cliffhangers brighten all of my stories! Evil laughter

I think it was the Deftones that put me in gear tonight, when I wrote this (today is January 10, right? Right.) and I think it was the toasted bread that suppied me with the energy to type this from 9 pm to 11.30 (with an hour and a half in between because I talked to my best friend about my day, and also my 'brother' who reminded me to bnring his notebook tomorrow. . .) anyway, whatever the cause of me writing the sceond part, it's good, right? It worked. You guys liked it, so good.

So ta-ta for now, and if you beg me just right, I might actually type Part three right away. . . That is, if you praise me well enough.