Disclaimer: Yami No Matsuei is the property of Matsushita Yoko. I make no claim to the characters, story, etc. All other standard disclaimers apply because originality quota is low today.

Spoilers: Anime, only. Post Kyoto Arc. I am familiar with the manga, mainly from the lovely site at Theria. net to which I owe much props for help when I was first introduced to Yami and I wanted to know more. Many, many thanks. I know Tsuzuki and Hisoka go into GenSouKai after Kyoto, but I prefer to keep it anime only, probably to keep it as angst-y as possible.

Full summary is at the beginning of chapter one.

Oh, no reviews. :( Why do I keep posting? Because I have to get it out of my head and out in the world. Random.

Also, no quote for this chapter. Couldn't think of any thing that fit. Don't worry! More will be coming!

Thanks for reading.

Kyoto

Fall descended on the Kyoto silently the night before. Overnight, the green trees became flushed with rich reds, oranges, and yellows. The leaves began to drop to the ground and hint of coolness hung in the air with a promise of winter. Hisoka inhaled the fresh crisp air and shivered slightly. He pulled his jacket tightly around him. Tsuzuki did not fail to notice the action and smiled.

"Failed to bring warm clothes, eh, Bon?" Tsuzuki commented. Hisoka brightened a bit, hearing the laughter in his partner's voice. But he glared at the older man, muttering an insult under his breath. Tsuzuki, hearing only the usual "baka," laughed. Hisoka felt Tsuzuki's joy, but felt the darker, sweeter undercurrent. Sweeter because it was familiar. As if despair could be sweet.

Hisoka sighed. He didn't like feeling Tsuzuki's anxiety. Not only because he didn't like to see the older man in pain but because he was responsible for Tsuzuki.

"Live for me," he had cried as Touda's flames surrounded them. Tsuzuki had looked up at the boy, into his clear but darkened emerald eyes and had agreed. For nine months Hisoka had been learning to live with that request. He took care of Tsuzuki, invited him over for dinner, made sure to cheer him up. He spent time learning how to tell jokes. In learning to be someone Tsuzuki wanted to live for, Hisoka had dropped many shields, had lightened up. No one failed to notice the change.

But what no one knew was what Oriya Mibu had pointed out to Hisoka one night. No one, not even Tsuzuki, knew that a sort of friendship had developed between the two. Hisoka wanted someone to practice kendo with and Oriya seemed the perfect companion. After all, hadn't he nearly sliced Hisoka in half? I never said I wasn't the only glutton for punishment in this group, Hisoka thought as he approached KoKakuRou brothel one night in hopes of finding Oriya alone.

The older man sat in meditation on the ground, a katana in front of him, a pipe in his mouth. He neither looked surprised nor uncomfortable when Hisoka showed up.

"Can I help you?" he asked pleasantly. Hisoka bowed slightly.

"I hope so."

"If you are looking for Muraki-san, I am afraid I can not be of service," Oriya said, anticipating Hisoka's question. He ran a quick eye over the young boy and knew what Muraki had found attractive; if he hadn't, the boy would have been dead, pure and simple. The boy was so fresh and so fragile in the moonlight. Like the porcelain cup he was drinking from. Pretty enough to be a girl. Pretty enough to entertain one of the many politicians which came through his doors.

"Actually, I'm not here about Muraki."

"Then what are you here for?" He asked, intrigued.

"I'm here for you," he said, drawing a gruff laugh from the other man. Oriya pulled the pipe out of his mouth.

"I didn't know I was any of your concern, unless of course, I'm dying?" There was no regret in the question, only mild curiousity. .

"You're not. But I want to practice kendo and I would appreciate a few sparring sessions with you." Oriya laughed again and agreed—under one condition. For every evening they sparred, Hisoka would have to spend a night entertaining his customers. At first, Hisoka balked at the idea, but once Oriya assured him that no sex was involved, Hisoka found himself sitting at a table, serving tea to a member of Japan's parliament. Usually a taciturn boy, he was worried that he would have to chat with these men. But he didn't. One of the women or the politician would do all the talking; Hisoka had to sit there, look pretty, and tell a joke, or give a compliment every now and then.

Oriya only subjected the boy to the rooms for an hour. He could see that the young boy was uncomfortable and unlike Muraki, he did not derive any pleasure from hurting people. Often, after sparring or after being rescued, they would share some tea. Usually they were silent but one summer night Hisoka couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut.

After one particularly amusing comment, Oriya laughed. Hisoka stopped and looked at him.

"What?"

"You feel responsible for him." Oriya said.

"No I'm not."

"You just said you aren't, instead of you don't," Oriya prodded gently. A curl of smoke escaped through his mouth as he exhaled. Hisoka stiffened. Oriya continued. With the boy, he could.

"You are responsible for him. And your responsibility has opened you up. You are afraid of not being good enough."

"You don't know me," Hisoka shot back, becoming defensive again. But, deep down (not even that far down, he would admit to himself late at night), he was afraid. Oriya was right. Oriya studied the boy through his thick brown hair and held back a chuckle. He was right and the boy knew it. Hisoka stood up and gathered up his stuff. He stood stiff, his thin back as straight as though a rod was holding him up. The bearing of a noble.

"I must go, Kurosaki-kun. My clients await," Oriya said, gracefully getting to his feet. The two bowed and Hisoka materialized back into Meifu. Oriya shook his head and walked back into the restaurant, reminding a girl not to forget to put the tea away.

Hisoka, lost in these memories, forgot the cold and forgot the world. He failed to hear Tsuzuki call his name.

"Hisoka? Are you okay?" Tsuzuki asked. Hisoka jerked back as Tsuzuki touched him tentatively. The hand withdrew quickly and concern radiated from his partner. Concern, worry, fear. Fear that he had done something. Fear that he didn't live up to his promise.

"No, no, you're fine," Hisoka mumbled, wondering why he constantly reassured the older man. Always he was giving him comforting words, allowing himself to occasionally hold his hand, as if it would make everything better. Always the right hand. To make himself feel better, as if hand holding could cure all of Tsuzuki's pain.

He was lying to himself and he knew it, which made it worse. He wondered if it would have been better if he hadn't leapt into Touda's flames. He wondered this at least ten times a day as he watched Tsuzuki continuously put himself at risk, continuously make promises he couldn't keep and continuously fall apart when he failed. Hisoka shivered again, but not from the cold. He indistinctly heard himself tell Tsuzuki that he was fine, that he was just cold, and maybe they should grab some dinner. Tsuzuki didn't look convinced, but led him to a restaurant which served an awesome triple chocolate caramel tart. Hisoka let him eat three pieces.

Slightly longer than the others, but the next one will be longer, I promise. I know it seems a little odd for Hisoka to go to Oriya, but I think he would have to respect some one who was an able swordsman(I know this isn't the correct term, but for the life of me, I can't remember it). Since I think Hisoka operates on a level of respect (can't get rid of that noble background), I can see him turning to Oriya. Or perhaps I'm just crazy.