Disclaimer: I don't own Yami no Matsuei

Shout-outs:

Amethyst-eyed Koneko: Yes, I know, awful, awful, awful! I actually agree somewhat about Tatsumi. What happened was, I sometimes write scenes ahead of time that keep playing in my head. I handwrote the Tatsumi/Watari scene way before I typed it. But I wrote the rest of the story differently than I had initially imagined it. Ergo, it didn't quite match up. But I'd gotten so attached to it that I couldn't let it go. I tried, I really did, to make him as IC as possible. I didn't think it was as bad as it might have been. It wasn't as good as it might have been, either, but…ah, well. There are hits and there are misses.

About Hisoka channeling souls…two words: Plot. Point. It might turn into some deus ex machina but, hey. I told you I'm bad at those. But…I think Hisoka might be interested. I'm looking mainly at his desire to be in control and have a power of his own. Why not exploit what he already has?

Sucks that you're not interested in T/E…they're one of my three favorite pairings.

Again, sorry for making you read that awful waste of keystrokes. This chapter will be better—possibly even good—I promise!

Status5: Thanks. (HugglesGlomps) I still think it was awful, but I'm glad someone enjoyed it.

jennamarie: Isn't it weird that a wedding story's shortened form is Second Death? LOL. Thank you for enjoying it, too.

And Riko's cowboy hat (it's not a sombrero, but you did spell that correctly) is the best, IMHO. It makes him even cuter. I drew a picture of him and Tenko. Tenko is lying on the ground, like in that picture where Kouchin is talking to her, and Riko is next to her. They're sitting on a hill and staring up at the sky. I wrote "Tenko and Riko" on the top, and then at the bottom I wrote "Vomit-inducing cuteness of little Shikigami".

What do you think of the pairings Rikugo/Kijin and Seiryuu/Kouchin? We just recently came up with these. Seiryuu/Kouchin is okay (though I prefer to pair him with an OC named Aiko), but Rikugo/Kijin is…iffy. They've got similar personalities, but there is the age gap (Rikugo's old enough to be Kijin's dad!) and plus, Rikugo is too pretty to belong to anybody but me. (Wink)

Kiko812: Funny? Really? I never feel comfortable writing humor. Though I did expect someone to giggle at "assonance". You know what it means, right—the repetition of a vowel.

Lynn: Brownie points…and a brownie…for you! "Langston Hughes! To the stage! To Uta! To Buddha! Pablo Neruda too!" Only we can break into RENT while listening to an inspirational speaker!

Side Note #1: The Three of Swords (Tarot card): Peace that has been established cannot last. Sharp words, cutting ideas, and misconceptions have created pain and heartbreak. Hurtful words are going to be exchanged. Poisonous words and thoughts now come out into the open. No more waiting, obsessing, wondering, worrying. Either blood or poison can drip out, and the Querent can get on with their life.

Side Note #2: Tenko and Kijin do not have pupils. Ergo, I have decided they are blind. Instead of seeing things, they cast their energy about to get a mental picture in their head.

Side Note #3: The hindbrain controls motor skills.

Side Note #4: I'm up in the air whether or not cremation would be standard practice for Japanese dead in 1917. I'm pretty sure it's a Buddhist practice. Then again, I've seen stories set way back when in Japan where the dead are buried. Just go with being buried as the norm for the sake of the story.

Side Note #5: Matsushita says that Tsuzuki was born in Tokyo, but Tokyo isn't in Kyushu. Let's just pretend that Tsuzuki's family didn't stay in Tokyo, all right?

Side Note #6: Some new honorifics to explain.

"-otouto" Little brother

"-nee" Older sister

"-koi" and –koishi" Dear

Side Note #7: I just discovered a new Tsuzuki/Hisoka song! "Vincent – Starry, Starry Night" by Chloe Agnew (or Josh Groban, if you prefer). I think it's supposed to be a tribute to Vincent Van Gogh, but just look at these lyrics: "Now I understand/What you tried to say to me/And how you suffered for your sanity/And how you tried to set them free/They would not listen/They did not know how/Perhaps they'll listen now/For they could not love you/And still your love was true/And when no hope was left inside/On that starry, starry night/You took your life/As lovers often do/But I could have told you, (fill in "Tsuzuki" for "Vincent")/This world was never meant for one as beautiful/As you."

Okay, enough side notes!

-IYOFQH, hping she got the definition of "juxtaposition" right...

Juxtaposition

The Kansei night sky was unusually clear, after weeks of clouds and fog. A pleasant breeze blew through the trees, swaying the trunks, branches, and leaves back and forth. The night was muggy but that was ignorable. To the Shikigami not gone abed, it was an opportunistic night for stargazing and relaxing.

Rikugo was one of those who had taken that opportunity. A more perfect night, an astrologer couldn't have asked for. A more perfect reading…that was something beggars had to be choosers about.

"What're you sighing for, Rikugo?" Seiryuu demanded gruffly at the startled little gasps of air Rikugo was emitting. "It's getting annoying."

"Father…" Kijin whispered warningly, exasperatedly.

Rikugo shot a glare at his arch-nemesis. "Thank you for that, oh cultured one," he hissed. "For your information, I'm getting a bad reading."

"Who's killing who this time?" Seiryuu snorted. "Touda and Suzaku already turned in for the night."

"It concerns our master and his fiancé," Rikugo snapped.

"Why, what's the matter?" Kijin asked, his voice taking on a panicked edge.

"A bad omen," Rikugo said, squinting up at the stars.

Kijin stood up and raised his hand perpendicular to the ground, palm facing to his left. His colorless eyes began to scintillate a pale yellow color, and words from ancient Japan spilled from his lip. Almost imperceptibly a slip of paper materialized between his index and middle fingers. His eyes returned to their pure white state and he held the card in front of his face. Blind to what it said, he concentrated his energy on it, allowing the message to flow into his mind.

"The Three of Swords," he said quietly, letting the slip fall to his feet and imperceptibly shatter into atoms.

"Do you think juxtaposition happens in real life?"

"Does what happen in real life?" Tsuzuki asked, cocking his eyebrows in confusion.

"Juxtaposition," Hisoka repeated. "In literature, it's putting in appropriate objects for the mood. A scary setting requires a dark night. A happy one requires a sunny day. And today." Hisoka jerked his thumb towards the office window. "Dark clouds portending thunderstorms. That means," Hisoka said, noting Tsuzuki's glazed look, "that something bad is going to happen."

"Oh," Tsuzuki said, and Hisoka rolled his eyes at Tsuzuki's "I just caught on" look. "Well, I don't know, Hisoka. Kijin and Rikugo believe in signs, but…bad things can happen on a nice day just as easily as on a rainy one."

"Tsuzuki! Kurosaki! I need you in here yesterday!"

"Then again," Tsuzuki said, "if those clouds predicted a job, I think I'll stay home the next time there's a rainstorm."

"Slacker," Hisoka said, rising from the desk.

"Workaholic," Tsuzuki returned, also rising.

"TSUZUKI! KUROSAKI!"

"Coming!" they shouted back, twins in timing and different in tone.

"Took you long enough," Konoe growled as the pair walked in.

"Sorry," they said, once again in unison.

"Forget it," Konoe said, shaking his head as if it were painful for him to forgive them. "You've got a job."

"I figured," Tsuzuki said under his breath. Konoe ignored—or chose to ignore—it.

"Another magic user," Konoe said. "This guy's been studying dark magic for almost all his adult life. And that's been a long time. This guy's 102 years old."

"Are you serious?" Hisoka asked rhetorically. 102 years…that was ringing a loud, dangerous bell.

"Guess he really didn't want to let go," Konoe said, shrugging. "It's possible nowadays. He finally gave out a few days ago. Obviously, he hasn't reported for judging. Your job is to go get him, of course. He's taken to haunting an old Buddhist cemetery."

"What's this guy's name?" Tsuzuki asked. His throat was unnaturally dry. If he could attempt at swallowing it would have been laborious for him. Hisoka's head began to throb with the nervous energy emitting from his partner.

"Seika Shinji."

Seika Shinji.

Ruka's fiancé.

The one whose loss made Tsuzuki go insane.

Hisoka's head turned in a flash to face his partner. The shock of feelings forced him to step back.

Tsuzuki's face was drained of color, making his amethyst eyes stand out so much they almost looked to be protruding from their sockets. His hands were trembling visibly; one shakily raised itself to his face, and then immediately clamped down on his right wrist, squeezing to the point where the skin around it became dark pink with blood prevented from circulating. The throbbing in Hisoka's head worsened into a hammer-like pounding.

"What's the matter with you two?" Konoe asked, concernedly glancing back and forth between them.

"He's…someone I knew when I was alive," Tsuzuki said, his voice strangled but oddly clear. "Someone very…close to me."

"Oh, well…" Konoe stopped, floundering about his head for words.

"Excuse me," Tsuzuki said before either Konoe or Hisoka could make any further moves.

"Tsuzuki?" Konoe started, but Tsuzuki had already turned and strode out the door, almost slamming it behind him. The pain in Hisoka's head did not abate and he grabbed his temples with his hands, feeling as if his very brains were pulsing.

"Kurosaki, what's going on?" Konoe asked.

"Nothing, forget it," Hisoka said, waving his hand dismissively. He couldn't discuss this with him. He didn't even know if he could discuss this with Tsuzuki.

"Bull. Don't…"

"Please!" Hisoka shouted at him desperately, pressing his hands tighter against his head. "We'll get right on it. Tsuzuki…I have to go find him. I'm sorry, I have to go find him…!"

"Kurosaki!" Konoe yelled, reaching out a hand. But Hisoka had already teleported out of the office, frantically casting his mind about for Tsuzuki's spiritual energy trace. It was never difficult to find…never except now…he wasn't anywhere in Meifu. Not in Meifu…Chijou.

By the time Hisoka materialized in Chijou the sky had ripped open and rain came down in cold, gray sheets. People were clearing away, huddling under overhangs and umbrellas. Hisoka felt small beads showering down on him, plunking off his head and down his shirt. Hail. If that wasn't juxtaposition, nothing was.

A twinge in his mind made him whirl around, trying to locate the small beat of familiar emotion. Blinded by the small hailstones that seemed to be determined to fly into his eyes, he ran forward, splashing water with each footstep. The emotions he knew were Tsuzuki's were beginning to drum louder in his head, almost becoming part of his bloodstream and circulating through him.

Through the curtain of silver-gray rain he saw Tsuzuki's trademark black trench coat walking swiftly away.

"Tsuzuki!"

He didn't know Hisoka was there.

"Tsuzuki! Wait!"

He couldn't know Hisoka was there.

"Tsuzuki Asato, don't you dare not answer me!"

Tsuzuki turned around suddenly, abruptly. "Hisoka…!"

He was cut off as Hisoka threw himself on him, catching him in a death grip he couldn't possibly break free from.

"Don't you even try!" Hisoka shrieked at him, digging his fingers into the black leather of Tsuzuki's coat. "I know you! I'm not going to let you disappear and wallow in guilt this time! If you take one step away from me, so help me God I'll maim you where you stand!"

Tsuzuki's mouth fell agape but no words came out, only a strangled gasp. Hisoka's brain was running circles around his skull but the whine of terror that Tsuzuki might do something drastic overpowered any instinct to pull away.

"Hisoka, I…I'm…"

"Hush!" Hisoka commanded, his voice raising, a tugging behind his eyes threatening to open the floodgates. "Just…be…be quiet, you…"

"I'm going to that graveyard," Tsuzuki said, his voice steady if not the rest of his body. Hisoka felt his hold inadvertently loosening as Tsuzuki shook in his grasp. The control Tsuzuki had on his words began to slip. "He thinks I killed her…how can I…? I can't…I have to…I can't, I have…he thinks I killed her…he thinks I killed her!"

"You…"

"I know I didn't!" Tsuzuki yelled, but the falter on his last word left Hisoka unconvinced. "But he knows I…he thinks I did. He knows it's my fault."

"D—n you!" Hisoka shrieked, rage catching up to panic and sorrow. "Stop it!" A distant memory of having his shoulders shaken cropped up blurrily in his semi-conscious and took over his hindbrain. He was shaking Tsuzuki much more weakly than he thought he was.

He was barely aware of Tsuzuki returning the steeled embrace as the rain poured down relentlessly, or of Tsuzuki finally realizing that said rain was drenching them both and half-dragging, half-walking Hisoka to shelter. The training was slightly helping; this display of emotion might otherwise have knocked Hisoka unconscious instead of clouding his mind to almost imperceptibility.

It took quite a long time of silence for them to speak again. Minutes felt like hours as Tsuzuki, characteristically, dragged them to a restaurant. All Hisoka could stomach was water. It was a testament to the situation that Tsuzuki only ordered a sandwich.

"What are we going to do?"

Tsuzuki looked up from his plate. Hisoka was sitting opposite him, hunched over as if trying to shield himself from icy wind on a freezing winter day, looking up through his bangs like a chastised child starting up a conversation to test forgiveness. A pang suddenly hit Tsuzuki—Hisoka must have struck this pose numerous times as a child.

"Tsuzuki."

"Um." Try as he might, another coherent thought couldn't pass through his mind and into his mouth. "Oh…"

"Are we going to that cemetery or aren't we?" Hisoka asked, his voice low and deliberately controlled. "You were heading there, weren't you?"

"I think I was," Tsuzuki said guiltily. "I know what Konoe-kachou was talking about. It's where she—Ruka—was buried. When I was hospitalized my family sometimes drifted in to see me when I was lucid; they told me he went there a lot."

Hisoka made a noise in his throat. "Konoe-kachou said that he's been studying dark magic. I think we have enough experience in that field to know not to underestimate it. But, he's also old as dirt. 102…that is a long effin' time."

"Yeah, I suppose it is. But then, we're magic-users, too."

The rationality of the conversation was insane.

"Tsuzuki, you don't have to go. I can handle this alone."

"Shinigami have to work together in pairs, remember?" Tsuzuki parroted back at him. "He won't want to leave that cemetery. He'll get violent. And besides, I…"

"What?" Hisoka asked.

"I…I should go," Tsuzuki said softly. "I mean, I know…I know I didn't kill her…and, and he should know that, too."

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka started, trying very hard to keep his Empathy under control. "Are you saying you didn't kill her because you honestly believe it, or because you know that's what I want you to say?"

Tsuzuki sighed. "I don't know. But I should…I should see him again. If he's hanging on because of her…or me…I should set him straight. It's my…responsibility."

"You're taking responsibility?" Hisoka mocked, desperate for some positive reaction. "Are you feeling ill?"

Tsuzuki gave a weak, watery smile. "Yeah, I know. I must be."

"It's cold."

"I know. It's dark, too."

"Yes, that's generally what happens when it becomes night."

"Snark."

"Is this the place?"

"…Yes."

The cemetery was small and, in the night atmosphere, appeared unkempt. The surrounding woods seemed to isolate it from the world. A separate island inhabited by corpses and mourners.

"There's an energy shield up," Hisoka said, allowing his Empathy to feel about for a few seconds before retracting it, hastily. "I can't feel anything beyond it." He stepped forward, holding a hand out, until he finally hit something solid and a ring of dazzling white light rippled out from his touch. He applied some pressure to it and was barely able to force his palm through. "It's tough."

"Who's there?" a voice yelled out suddenly, and a human shape rose from a kneeling position on the ground.

It was thin, almost emaciated-looking, with a shock of pepper-white hair. For such an immense age, the eyes were strong, black and narrow, and fixated on the two forms outside his shield.

"You."

Tsuzuki suddenly let out a cry. Hisoka whipped around to see Tsuzuki grasping his head, as if trying to crush his head in between his hands. His face was screwed up in anguish.

"Tsuzuki!" Hisoka reached out a hand to grab his partner but a sudden, numbing shock to his brain caused him to falter and nearly collapse. He could just barely see another tremor pass on the energy shield, and through his blurred vision he saw the white light expand and begin to cover Tsuzuki. Frenziedly he half-jumped, half-collapsed on Tsuzuki's arm, allowing it to wash over him.

"You've got no business here," a chilly voice said, and Hisoka knew Shinji was speaking directly to him. "It's him I want."

"How did you know he'd be here?" Hisoka shouted, his vision just barely starting to clear.

"I didn't," Shinji replied, his voice as ice. "But I should have expected it…monsters like him never die."

"I didn't murder my sister, Shinji!" Tsuzuki yelled.

"Liar," Shinji hissed mercilessly. His hands were cupped, and a small ball of black energy was beginning to form between his palms. "You killed her using this type of magic, didn't you."

"No…no, I didn't!"

"You killed her…" The ball was beginning to grow. "You killed her…" Now it was roughly the size of a small globe. "You killed her."

"N-no…No! I didn't kill Ruka!"

"Shut up!"

"Tsuzuki, watch out!"

Hisoka leapt; the pair of them crashed to the ground as the black ball crackling with purple, zigzag bolts of energy shot passed them with the force of a cannon ball. Hisoka rolled off Tsuzuki and stood up, then suddenly paused and looked back as something red and glistening caught his eye. He hadn't been quick enough; the magic had managed to catch Tsuzuki's hand and make it bleed. To Hisoka's horror, it didn't seem to be healing.

"Bit slow, aren't you?" Shinji jeered cuttingly. "Interesting study, black magic is. But then, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Asato? Isn't that how you turned those eyes that color?"

"N-no, I…I…" Tsuzuki couldn't force the words out of his mouth. A million things swirled in a tornado around his mind; nothing was passing through his voice box.

"What right do you have to condemn him?" Hisoka yelled, partly out of anger, partly out of trying to distract Shinji, partly out of trying to reach Tsuzuki. "You've learned it, too!"

"Of course I did," Shinji replied darkly. "I wanted to kill him with it. But he died before I got strong enough. Pity…but here's my second chance. When you stick with something for years, you never know when it'll come in handy…"

Hisoka conjured a fuda scroll and flung it at him. To his horror, it struck against another dome surrounding the target and shattered into nothingness.

"You must think I'm slow," Shinji drawled carelessly. "I may be old, but this magic does something to you. Heightens your senses, makes you age slower…but Asato would know all about that, too, wouldn't he?"

There was a sudden draining sensation inside Tsuzuki. A creeping coldness had been inching its way through his entire body since first seeing his would-have-been brother-in-law and know it had completely washed over him, numbing his mind. He could say nothing, could think of nothing except…

"Murderer…" Shinji's usually small eyes had widened as he took in the scene. Tsuzuki standing by his sister's dead body, sitting primly against the wall with a gaping hole in her chest and blood slowly, steadily running out. A cut in her forehead made the red liquid drip down her face through her open eyes, devoid of pupils, and her mouth, lips drained of color and slightly parted as if still struggling for breath.

Tsuzuki stumbled backwards and hit the floor, barely avoiding landing on the shredded bodies of the two demons he had slaughtered, as Shinji, in a daze, walked forward, deliberately and slowly, and knelt down in front of Ruka. He took her in his arms and cradled her against his torso. Her arm did not reach to touch his face as it usually might; her head that was normally held proudly erect fell backwards, limp on her neck. Her Asian skin had paled to that of the most house-bound Caucasian woman. Blood continued to course progressively out of her.

"Murderer…" Shinji whispered hoarsely, not looking up. "You killed her…you killed your own sister!"

"I…I…" Tsuzuki stammered, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene before him. His hand brushed against broken flesh of one of the demon. Suddenly it hit him like a brick to the face. "I…killed them, I…killed her."

His hands crawled at the floor of the house as he desperately tried to stand up. He had barely succeeded when his legs started running, through the open door, past the people who had come running and were now yelling, "Asato, what's wrong?", past the houses, past the town. It was as if he was small again and the bullies were chasing him with sticks and stones again, except now he was alone and his own guilt was chasing him.

'I murdered my own sister…'

"Tsuzuki, stop it!" Hisoka shrieked, not daring to move any closer to Tsuzuki lest he collapse, unconscious. Everything Tsuzuki was remembering he was remembering too: the color of Ruka's blood and skin, the flaccidity of her body as Shinji moved her, the frantic escape, the unadulterated hatred of Shinji.

"You're really annoying, you know that?" Shinji yelled at Hisoka, and the shock of both past and present hatred sent Hisoka backwards several paces. Tsuzuki was still on the ground, his eyes wide open but unseeing, sweat and tears running down his face. Hisoka moved forward but before he had taken two steps he crashed against something that blinded him. Another energy shield.

"You can't get past that," Shinji yelled. "You're gonna watch my revenge like this is a spectator sport, kid!"

"Tsuzuki!" Hisoka screamed, futilely pounding on the energy shield. "Wake up! WAKE UP!"

"Asato-otouto, get your lazy bum out of bed! It's already past 9 o'clock. You have to come help me clean the house."

"Ruka-nee, I don't wanna…"

"Then I guess I'll have to enjoy all this candy by myself…."

"Really? We have candy? Then I'll wake up!"

"Seika Shinji, what the h—l are you doing to my little brother?"

There is a moment when it feels like time stops and all the air vanishes and one is suspended in space, and then a sudden rush of energy breaks the spell and you fall back to Earth with a sickening thud.

Both men turned at the sound of the voice. Shinji crumpled to the ground, his eyes unblinking. The shield around Tsuzuki fell away.

Standing where Hisoka had been was Tsuzuki Ruka, in all her 19-year-old glory.

"My!" she exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips. "A girl dies for 83 years and comes back to find her brother and fiancé trying to kill each other."

"Ruka?" was spoken simultaneously, both mean's voices as twins.

"In the flesh!" Ruka smiled. There was a certain brilliance in her smile. "Well, in this guy's flesh," she amended, slapping her leg. "You've got a powerful partner here, Tsuzuki. Not many people can summon the dead after only a month of training."

"How did you…?"

"Divine knowledge," Ruka said solemnly, and then grinned again. "No, really. Didn't he tell you? Summoning the dead is like being possessed. I can see his memories. Well, the surface ones, anyway. His present thoughts. Hmm…can't hang around long. He's an Empath, I see. So." She clapped her hands, professionally. "Let's get down to business."

With a certain deliberate air she walked forward, towards Shinji. He stilled stared at her, mouth agape.

"Shinji-koishi," she said upon reaching him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "102 years? When people wished us longevity, I don't think they meant quite that long. But I suppose you were making up for me."

"Ruka-koi…"

"And that reminds me. Magic-using? At your age? I think I preferred smoking as your vice. Did you ever quit, by the way?"

"After you…" He seemed too astonished to speak.

"After I died?" Ruka finished for him. "It took my heart being shot out of my chest to make you give up smoking? You sure know how to make a girl feel loved."

She knelt down, her hands still on his shoulders, and looked him square in the face.

"You know, you can get your young body back. I'm not going to be engaged to a decrepit old man for the rest of eternity!"

"Ruka-koi…" Shinji put his hands on her shoulders, as well. He looked dumbstruck, as if trying to convince himself what he saw was a hallucination, a trick, even as he desperately wanted to believe in its verity.

"You're dead, aren't you? And here you are brawling with my brother instead of joining me in Heaven. And especially when he never raised a hand against me!"

"But…"

"I suppose you missed the dead demons, Shinji-koishi. From what I'm gathering from this guy, they killed me, he killed them, and you walked in on it all at the wrong moment. But honestly, Shinji-koishi. The kid worshipped the ground I walked on. Does it even make sense that the thought of killing me would ever enter into his brain? And even if it is all his fault—which it's not, by the way—I want you to forgive and forget so you can come to Heaven with me. Or, you can stay here and be stubborn about it."

"Ruka-koi, I…I…"

"You can't even finish your sentences! You never were the sharpest knife in the kitchen."

But her voice softened as she spoke, and she put her arms around his neck and rested her forehead against his.

"83 years, Shinji-koishi? 83 years of missing me, and hating Asato-otouto? You fool." She leaned up and kissed the top of his head, and then moved back into position. "You complete and utter fool."

There was a long moment, a reunification of lovers after decades of separation that had nursed an abiding hatred and loneliness.

"Now, get to Meifu and get judged," Ruka said quietly, almost adding to the small peace they had created instead of breaking it with her words, "so you can be in Heaven with me."

"Ruka-koi…"

"Hush," Ruka said authoritatively. "You can explain it all after you're properly dead." She gave him a kiss on the lips, and then a playful, loving wink. "I'll be waiting up. Now go on! Getting going! Now! Go!"

She took his hand and squeezed it, and as her grip tightened his form and color began to find into obscurity, until her fingers were curled into her palm and any trace of him was left only in memory.

"But I do love the little fool," Ruka said with an affectionate sigh, rising to her feet. "And speaking of little fools…" She turned around to face Tsuzuki. "What? Your sister shows up after 83 years and she doesn't get a hug?"

"Ruka-nee…" He was still on the ground, staring up at her face as if he still couldn't believe she was there.

"I guess I'll have to do it myself," she said resignedly, marching over to her brother, plopping down on her knees, and tossing her arms around his shoulders.

"Ruka-nee…" Tsuzuki whispered, his hands shaking as he reached to hug her back. That tangible feel of her was almost surreal; her work-roughened skin, her coarse black hair, the warmth of her skin, and the power of her aura. "Ruka-nee, Ruka-nee."

"Asato-otouto, I have to go soon. I'm draining him…your fiancé. Sorry, he let that thought escape accidentally." Tsuzuki twitched a little. "Now, why should I worry if he's a guy, too? You deserve some love after all the s—t you've been put through. I'm just sorry I can't be at your wedding."

"Ruka-nee, I'm sorry I never got to see yours…"

Ruka tightened her embrace. "Now you stop blaming yourself for that, you hear? It wasn't your fault. And thank you for avenging me. You were the best little brother anyone could ask for, albeit a bit lazy. And speaking of my wedding, I'll give my groom a proper scolding when I see him. Though, it is flattering to have a man who wants to avenge your death 83 years later. Oh, dash it all, look what you did, Asato-otouto! You've gone and made me cry."

Tsuzuki breath caught in his throat and he buried his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder.

"You go and get married and you be happy, okay? No breaking bread, right?"

"Right," Tsuzuki whispered brokenly.

"Then I'll see you later," Ruka finished softly, pressing her lips against his cheek. Like Shinji, her shape and color began to fade away until all that was left was Hisoka leaning against Tsuzuki.

"Hisoka…"

With a soft moan Hisoka slumped, losing consciousness. Tsuzuki's grip tightening on him was the last thing he was aware of.

Hisoka's eyes opened, and then blinked to clear his vision. He was staring at the blue-tinted white tiles of the infirmary.

"Hisoka?" A form stirred beside him on the hospital bed.

Hisoka ran his hand over his face. "What…what happened?"

"Shinji passed on," Tsuzuki said quietly. "Ruka went back to Heaven."

"Good." He looked toward Tsuzuki. "Are you okay?"

"No."

Hisoka reached his hand up. Tsuzuki took it and pressed it against his face, resting his head against it.

"How long have I been out?"

"Hours," Tsuzuki answered. The clock read sometime in the AM hours. "I brought you here."

Hisoka had the feeling that watching over him was what kept Tsuzuki from breaking down. "Thanks."

"Well, I couldn't just leave you there. You passed out in my arms."

"Yeah…I think she planned it that way."

"It would be just like her to do that."

Hisoka moved a little to allow Tsuzuki to lie down next to him.

"She hasn't changed at all," Tsuzuki said with a half-laugh. "She's something, isn't she? No one could ever say "no" to her; she wouldn't let them. I used to tease her that she proposed to Shinji and then answered for him. She was one of those people you thought could never die…"

Hisoka put his arm around Tsuzuki. "Why aren't you crying?"

"You already fainted once today."

"It's harder on me when you bottle it up," Hisoka said. "With and without the Empathy."

Tsuzuki choked. He grabbed the side of Hisoka face and kissed him, tears streaking down his cheeks and dampening the pillow.

"She forgave me."

"You deserve it," Hisoka asserted.

"She forgave me," Tsuzuki repeated, as if not hearing him. "But she's still dead."

"I can channel her at any time."

Tsuzuki shook his head fiercely. "No…it's not the same. I still lost her." His left hand clamped down on his right wrist. "These scars are never going to go away, but she did." He grip tightened to where his skin was beginning to grow dark pink. "She left me. I never left her, but she left me."

"Tsuzuki…" Hisoka's voice cracked like glass.

"You aren't going to leave, too, are you?" Tsuzuki whispered, his voice as a starving beggar's. "You're not going to die, too, right? I could bear it if you hated me but not if you went away…I can't stand to lose anyone else that I love."

"Tsuzuki, I'm not going anywhere," Hisoka assured hoarsely. Tears stung dangerously at his own eyes. "As long as I can help it, I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't…please don't ever…" Tsuzuki clung to Hisoka's clothes like a frightened child.

"It's different now. He needs my strength now."

"I suppose he does. However—and this is just an outsider's opinion, Kurosaki-san—he needs your weakness, as well."

Hisoka frowned. His yesterday conversation with the Count…why now?

A sudden glint caught his eyes between the slats of the Venetian blinds on the window. A gray sky as the morning rose, a pale white sun peeping through cracks and then disappearing behind the condensed water that was clouds. A sudden chill settled onto the room. Hisoka shivered and pulled Tsuzuki closer to him as he continued to weep.

Yawns, laughter, and tears are contagious.

So...forgive me for last chapter? ...Please...?