Apply standard disclaimer here (where? here).

So, it's been a long time since I saw you guys(hello to all (even to the readers in the shadows)). Between school and work, I haven't had a moment to sit down and write. That's actually not true. This is the third re-write of the chapter; I'm sorry to say it is not a very good chapter (why is it here? Oh right--the end). I also need information on Oriya (whatever can be dug up; from my understanding, he appears briefly in the manga as well). Is his first name Oriya? Or is that his last? Any info on Oriya is most welcome (if you want to email me, the address is in the profile).

Quote is from Ani Difranco's "Adam and Eve" from the album "Dilate." Used without permission.

Constructive criticism is wanted and welcome.

"My love is ugly. No, really, you'd be amazed."--Ani DiFranco

Hisoka's name on the board said: "Lunch." Tsuzuki debated going to partner's apartment and allowed himself to imagine what his arrival would do, what it would bring. He would burst in, the door would ring loudly against the wall, and swing back, but his hand would stop its movement. Hisoka's head would shoot up, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. Tsuzuki would stride forward purposefully, and carefully take the chopsticks from Hisoka while pulling out a chair with his other hand. He would sit down, take Hisoka's chin gently in his hand, and ask him a simple question. Hisoka would apologize, Tsuzuki would soothe, gentle murmurs would fill the kitchen, Hisoka would get up, slide into the older man's lap and wrap his arms around him. The only witness would be the sun, filling the room with a warm buttery light.

A corner of Tsuzuki's mouth lifted as he imagined Hisoka crawling into his arms, the feel of his corn silk soft hair twined about his fingers. But the memory of Hisoka's blushes at Muraki's accusation turned that half smile into a sneer and spoiled that warm feeling—made it cloying sweet like a too ripe peach.

Why choose strange men over me?, he thought, feeling his heart sink until he felt hollow and numb. Only one man would know the answer—that is, one man other than Hisoka. Turning abruptly, Tsuzuki left the office without saying goodbye and leaving the board blank. Tatsumi—watching carefully from his station by the squeaky copy machine—walked over and printed neatly "on a case" next to Tsuzuki and Hisoka's names. At least now, they would be both accounted for, something which the board was supposed to encourage the detectives to do.

The streets of Kyoto were still noisy at ten at night, although filled with the sounds of people either heading home. As he feet pointed him toward KoKakuRou, women and men slid past him, worried or content looks on their faces, arms full of groceries, books, or each other as a couple whispered goodbye. The actual words were stolen away but the rising wind which shook the trees and caused them to drop their leaves in a flurry of color. Tsuzuki shivered; winter was coming. This night, the sky seemed deep and dark, the stars choosing not to make themselves known.

But as Tsuzuki neared KoKakuRou, he noticed flames reaching up, licking at the building, and snapping loudly. Without thinking, he intercepted a woman who was running out, screaming.

"Is there a blonde haired boy inside?" he demanded, surprised at how harsh his voice sounded.

"Hai, Kurosaki-kun is inside! He is with Oriya-san!" she replied hurriedly. Tsuzuki was briefly pained at the familiar sounding Kurosaki-kun; Muraki's claims were true.

"Call the fire department," he said numbly. She replied that it was on the way. Dimly, he heard the sirens and nodded his thanks to the woman. He gave her a gentle shove away and watched her run to the safety of her companions.

He turned and jogged toward the building, wishing for his coat. He threw up one arm over his mouth to prevent him from inhaling too much smoke. He stepped over a fallen beam and ducked as wires sparked overheard. He slid into the courtyard and breathed in fresher air. Most of KoKakuRou was not touched, but he saw the fire creeping steadily over the roof.

"Tsuzuki-san—you braved the fire to rescue me?" Tsuzuki started at the voice and turned around. To his left stood Muraki, a cigarette hanging carelessly out of his mouth, his bare chest covered in blood. Tsuzuki stared in disgust at this dirty, vulgar version of Muraki.

"Where's Hisoka?" he demanded. Muraki inhaled deeply before flickering the cigarette onto the ground and nodding at the closed door behind him.

"I'm sorry, my dear Tsuzuki, but the boy wore out his welcome." He pushed open the door and revealed Hisoka and a dark haired man hanging from the ceiling, arms extended over their heads, revealing the cuts and dried blood on their torsos. Chained, bound, and bleeding. Hisoka's scars glowed brightly, rivaling the fire which licked at the rafter supporting the pair.

Tsuzuki growled. He was tired of being beat by this man, tired of being chased, tired of being watched, tired of it all. A part of him—the part that was sustained by the faith in Hisoka's demand to live for him—died. The embers of a fading fire flickered once before sinking below the ashes. Tsuzuki shivered; the cold within was so familiar now. He knew it. He embraced it.

At least his loneliness never left him for another man. Beneath that loneliness, rolling like a swollen sea, was that dark and sharp anger. Tsuzuki opened the floodgate. That ever present rage rushed to fill the opening and surrounded him with his cold, furious, lashing, familiar anger. He held it close to him as his only true companion. He turned to look at Muraki who did not, but should have, recoil at the boiling anger barely contained in the shorter man.

Muraki laughed loudly. He slid on a shirt and quickly buttoned it up.

"Now that you have your boy, Tsuzuki-san, I will take what is mine and leave you. But don't worry—I will return soon." His taunting voice had no effect; Tszuki's rage swallowed it like a stone tossed into the river. He calmly pulled out a fuda and flung it at the chains supporting the two men which snapped and dropped them roughly on the ground.

Tsuzuki then directed his anger toward Muraki. Neither man noticed the shadows rising up beneath their feet to support the limp form of Hisoka who shuddered and drew in a short, rasping breath. Ragged. Sharp. The shadows unwrapped the chains, withdrew the razors which had been inserted into his sides, and tenderly wrapped an obi around him.

Hisoka stood on his own and turned bleary, reddened eyes toward Tsuzuki who held a fuda straight up between his fingers. Speaking clearly, he flung the paper in the air, binding Muraki in a purple light. Grinning, Muraki shouted a command, and shattered the binding spell.

"You can not bind me, Tsuzuki-san. I go where I please, I speak what I please, and I'll do as I please," Muraki cried into the night. The wind had picked up. A storm was moving in. the darkening night had become blacker than Touda's flame—a flame which was rising again around Muraki.

"No!" Hisoka screamed. He knew Touda all too well. He yelled again but the loud rustle of leaves ripped away his voice. His shoulders jerked as ashes began to settle around him, burning him. Thinking quickly, he flung a kimono over the man next to him. All he could hear were the sounds of leaves, the ragged breathing of his friend, a distant rumble of thunder. The sound of fire overwhelmed it all. Dropping his shields, he wound himself into Tsuzuki.

And he knew hate.

Hate is not right. This was too consuming, too free flowing.

Hisoka tasted pure, blind, salty rage.

It engulfed him in pounding waves. He could not get his footing. He wanted to throw a line to Tsuzuki, to draw him in, but who was going to save him?

I didn't live for him. I was supposed to live for him, he thought. Hisoka suddenly knew what he had demanded on Tsuzuki that night. He had demanded a love. He had demanded love and protection.

But he had also promised reciprocation.

He didn't return.

As Tsuzuki's darkness swallowed him whole, as Hisoka dropped to his knees, he tried to imagine loving Tsuzuki. He shuddered in fear. He was drowning in hate. He called out Tsuzuki's name right before the smoke and the sea claimed him.

What did you think? It's a bit off, a treading of ground we've gone into before. But I think the last part, about Hisoka's realization is important. Gimme a ring, a line, to let me know what you think. To all of you who have reviewed--have some popcorn balls. They are quite good (and loaded with sugar).

Junglebunny: Thank you for your review. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next chapter is devoted to Oriya (which is why I need some info.) I do so love Oriya. Did Tsuzuki kick Muraki's #$# enough for you?

Jennamarie: Thank you. I'm glad to hear your voice. I hope this Muraki was good to you although I see Muraki here as less evil and more like losing his mind. (hint maybe?). Thank you!

Lunarkitty14: Thanks. :P I had to end it there! It's a cliffhanger! And I'm totally addicted to them. What did you think of this one? Is it what you expected it to be?

Rogue Kyne: Okay, so what did you think? I know you see Hisoka in the same light I do and I'm entirely happy with the fact that I had him pass out again, but you will see, I promise, how he rescues Tsuzuki this night.

Reader: Thank you again for your review. I've only read bits of the manga, but I really wish there was more on Oriya out there. How can you occupy both roles of samurai and brothel owner at the same time (if brothel owner is the right word)? Very difficult to imagine.

And a thank you and happy holidays to all the rest of my readers. I'll try to squeeze in one more chapter before the new year.