Chapter Five

"I-I . . . I know you?" Tsuzuki assumed in a timid voice. Well, that just made no sense. If he was in Hell, how would he know people? Then again, why would it be 1998 in Hell when he had died in 1926? He had a feeling that he was missing something big.

There was a faint hint of confusion in Muraki's grey eyes, then it was gone and replaced with something much more dangerous: curiosity. "The last time I checked, you were indeed an acquaintance of mine," he said smoothly. He offered his hand to Tsuzuki to help him up. "I'm Muraki Kazutaka."

Tsuzuki looked at him nervously, then shook his head and pressed himself up against the building he had been leaning against. "I don't . . . I don't remember. I don't remember anything."

The curiosity in Muraki's eyes now changed to a glint. "I see," he said. His hand was still held out to Tsuzuki. "You look a bit under the weather. Why don't you come with me for a bit and I'll see what I can do?"

Tsuzuki gave him a look. "How did I know you?" he asked. "When did I know you? The last thing I remember is d . . . is d-dying."

"We've been friends for quite some time now," Muraki said, his voice soothing, reassuring. "I think I can explain a lot of what you're missing, if you'll come with me." He smiled slightly. "You always did require a great deal of taking care of."

Tsuzuki hesitated, then nodded, and accepted Muraki's hand up.

Muraki's smile was smug, as he put his arm around Tsuzuki's shoulder and guided him through the crowd. He had no idea what had led up to this fortunate turn of events, but he wasn't about to question. "Are you hungry, Tsuzuki-san?"

"Not really," Tsuzuki mumbled.

Muraki arched an elegant eyebrow. Tsuzuki turning down food was not what he would have expected. "Still, you're pale. Why don't we find a place to sit down for some time and perhaps then you'll feel like eating." Without waiting for a reply, he steered Tsuzuki into a small cafe and sat him down.

Tsuzuki allowed himself to be steered, and even let Muraki order some tea for him. His fingers kept tracing over the scar on his wrist, over and over again.

Muraki noted this, but said nothing about it. From what he was slowly gathering, Tsuzuki's memory of his life was untouched. But the memory of his afterlife seemed to be gone entirely. He smiled slightly. There were quite a few interesting things he would be able to do with this.

"All right," he said, as Tsuzuki sipped his tea. He spread his hands out on the table. "What would you like to ask me? Far easier for you to ask questions than for me to try to explain everything."

Tsuzuki hesitated. "Am I . . . dead?"

"Technically," Muraki said, "yes. You are."

Tsuzuki wilted. "Am I in Hell?" he whispered.

Muraki raised an eyebrow at him again. "No," he said. "You're in Aomori. I'm presuming that you were here on business. It seems to be coincidence that we ran into each other." That wasn't precisely true, but Muraki didn't think that mentioning the fact that he was damn near Tsuzuki's stalker would really help.

"I don't live here?" Tsuzuki asked, glancing around.

After a pause, Muraki decided not to correct his terminology. Tsuzuki didn't technically 'live' anywhere. "No. And neither do I. I've been living in Kyoto recently." Time to start the lying that would set everything up nicely. "And so have you."

"Oh." Tsuzuki fell silent. He stared into his tea mug for a long minute before asking, "If I'm dead, why am I here?"

Muraki chose his words very carefully. "According to some of what you had told me, certain people after death become . . . supernatural guardians, for lack of a better term. They're called Shinigami. They regulate the deaths of other people."

"Figures that I would wind up doing that," Tsuzuki mumbled, studying his fingernails.

Muraki chose not to comment. There was only so much information he could get in one conversation, he was sure of that. "I had never met your employers," he added. "But it might be best to travel to Kyoto, to see if we could figure out why you had traveled to Aomori. You might have left notes in your house." It would also get Tsuzuki out from underneath the watchful eye of any of the Shinigami who knew where he was. Muraki made a mental note to call Oriya and ask him for a few favors before they left.

"But . . . wouldn't I have had notes here or something?" Tsuzuki asked, looking around, obviously confused. "I'm not sure we should leave if there was a reason I was here."

"Tsuzuki-san," Muraki said, patiently, "do you remember where you were staying?"

"No," Tsuzuki said, drooping.

"Then perhaps Kyoto would be the answer after all," Muraki said.

"Ne . . . there was a boy with me. Well, a young man," Tsuzuki corrected hastily, feeling a slight blush color his cheeks. "Named Kurosaki . . . brown hair, and the most amazing green eyes . . ."

Muraki tried to damp down the waves of jealousy that usually assaulted him when Tsuzuki talked about Hisoka. Someday he was going to wipe all memory of that boy from Tsuzuki's mind. Of course . . . it seemed to have already been done for him. He smiled again. "Oh? I don't know any boy by that name. Where did he go?"

"I lost him in the crowd," Tsuzuki said, shivering slightly. He had barely touched his cup of tea. "I guess I panicked a little."

"Completely understandable," Muraki said smoothly. He finished his tea and stood up. "Why don't you drink the rest of your tea? I'll call the train station and reserve us two tickets to Kyoto. If that's all right with you, that is?"

There was a pause, then Tsuzuki nodded. "Yes. Thank you." He blushed suddenly. "I don't have any money . . ."

Muraki smiled and leaned down and kissed Tsuzuki's forehead, and was quite gratified when the other man neither flinched nor pulled away. "I'll be right back," he said, and headed for the street outside the restaurant. It paid to be technological, he mused, as he pulled out his cell phone.

He called the train station first and learned that the next train for Kyoto left in forty-five minutes. Plenty of time. He reserved two tickets and dialed Oriya's number.

"Ko Kaku Rou," a chirpy voice stated.

"Muraki desu. Is Oriya there?"

"Hold on a moment, please!"

Muraki waited until Oriya's familiar voice picked up. "So you don't call me for three weeks, and now you think you can just waltz back into my life? I thought you were dead, you bastard. And I bet you want a favor, too. Don't you want a favor?"

Muraki smiled. "I love you too, Oriya."

"Don't give me your bullshit," Oriya snapped. "I thought you were dead. Where the hell have you been?"

"Recuperating," Muraki said casually. There was no reason to tell Oriya that he'd been stabbed in the stomach and then nearly burned to death by a large snake Shikigami. That probably wouldn't help matters. Of course, now Oriya was swearing a blue streak at him, so perhaps his enigmatic answer hadn't been the right one either. "I'll be in Kyoto tonight," he added, cutting Oriya off effectively.

There was a pause. "You will?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"All right. I'll finish yelling at you once you're here."

Muraki smiled. "That's fine."

"Now what's the favor that you want? Don't lie and say there isn't one. I know you too well."

Muraki cleared his throat. "For one thing, I'll need a room, but I'm sure you expected that." Nor would Oriya let him stay anywhere else, if he was going to be in the area. "You're also going to be playing landlord to a friend of mine. He has no memory, and I'd like you to pretend you recognize him. It'll make things . . . easier."

"A friend." Oriya's voice was heavy with suspicion. "Does this friend need a furnished room?"

"Yes, but nothing too special. Some clothes would be appreciated. Maybe some books. It's not that important, as long as it looks like he was living there."

"I run a brothel, Muraki, not a hotel."

"He doesn't need to know that."

Oriya's eyes narrowed. Muraki could practically hear it over the phone, and a slight smile tugged at his lips. In a way, he couldn't wait until Oriya saw his 'guest'. Oriya wasn't often caught off-guard, and Muraki was fairly sure that this was going to catch him flat-footed. The lecture he would receive would be worth every minute just for the look on Oriya's face.

"This . . . 'friend' of yours . . ." Oriya said slowly. "He has no memory. Should I take that to mean that you weren't on the best of terms and you don't want him to realize that?"

Muraki chuckled. "Oriya, you read me like a book. I'll see you tonight."

He hung up the phone before Oriya could protest (which he almost certainly would have) and walked back into the restaurant. Tsuzuki was still sitting at the table. The tea mug was empty, and tears were slowly sliding down his cheeks.

"Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki asked. "Are you all right?"

Tsuzuki laughed shakily. "I'm fine . . . just started thinking again . . . guess it wasn't a good idea."

Muraki leaned down and gently thumbed away the tears. Then he put his fingers underneath Tsuzuki's chin and tipped it up so Tsuzuki had to look at him. "Everything is going to be fine, Tsuzuki-san. Believe me."

Tsuzuki managed a trembling smile. "I believe you . . . Muraki."

~~~~

The train pulled to a halt in Kanagawa, and Hisoka was surprised to realize that he had dozed off. He stood up and made his way off the train, pushing his hair out of his face. It was further south here, and warmer.

He looked around the train station and smiled slightly. He had only been there a few times, in his younger childhood, but he still remembered it. After a few minutes, he started to make his way through the crowded station. It was early evening, and there were a lot of other people there.

As he finally got to the front steps, someone hurrying to catch a train pushed past him, and he fell heavily onto the concrete. Swearing viciously at his stinging palms, he got back up, and then stared.

He had skinned both knees and lost some skin off his hands, but as he watched, it was as if he'd never fallen. If it weren't for the new hole in one pant leg, he might have thought he had imagined it.

Shivering, he continued to sit on the steps of the train station. He was suddenly unbearably cold.

He was dead. He had to be dead, because living people didn't heal wounds. Of course, he wasn't aware that dead people walked around or took trains or slept, and as he sat there, he realized that he was hungry. How could he be hungry? What was going on?

There was a reason for all of this. And if he thought about it long enough, he would figure it out.

After about a half hour, when no answers had presented themselves, he decided that he was hungry enough that, dead or not, he wanted to get something to eat. There was still a small amount of money in his wallet, so he stopped at a fast food place and ate while sitting on a bench.

It was a warm, breezy night, and he was perfectly comfortable in his long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. He finished his food and began to walk.

Night fell while he was out, and he found himself in a lightly wooded park near his house. He smiled, but there was a slight feeling of unease in his stomach. Something about this park was familiar.

(he could almost hear the screaming)

Everything looked the same as that night. The same as it always had.

(he could definitely remember running)

The wind rustled the trees, and he shivered despite the fact that the air was warm, wrapping his arms around himself and hugging them to his chest.

(he could vividly remember being grabbed from behind and knocked to the ground and everything that had followed, the pain, oh God the pain and the blood and everything red in his vision and his kimono being torn off and why didn't Tsuzuki realize that was why he hated to wear kimonos? and the pain and everything fading fading and then gone and he screamed and screamed and screamed)

Hisoka whimpered and ran, leaving the field and all the memories behind.

After a while, he ran out of breath, and started walking again. The temperature was dropping as it got later. He reached the house where he had grown up and sat down outside, looking up at the warm glow from within. From the outside, everything in their family looked perfect.

Only the people inside knew better.

Hisoka took a deep breath, then went up to the front and rang the bell.

~~~~

"It's no good," Tatsumi said impatiently. "I don't think they're in Aomori anymore. Between the two of us and the Gushoshin, we've seen every square inch of this city more than once. It's not Tokyo, for crying out loud. They aren't here."

Watari pushed his hair out of his face, some of the strands coming out of the ponytail. "All right, so they're not in Aomori. But where would they go without telling us? It doesn't make any sense."

"No, it doesn't." Tatsumi took his glasses off and polished them meticulously. "Maybe the spirit has moved, and they followed it, but . . . I don't think so."

"What would have happened if this thing had tried to . . . you know, suck their souls or whatever?" Watari asked.

"Presumably, they'd have no memories right now," Tatsumi said. "Which means that logic dictates they would go to a hospital or something. That's what most reasonable people would do. Tsuzuki-san might not be reasonable, but Kurosaki-kun is. But that's not where they are."

Watari began to pace around the bench Tatsumi was sitting on. "This spell . . . steals their souls . . . but it starts with the memory and works backwards. So in theory . . . what if it hit the barrier of their transition from life to death and short circuited?"

"Leaving them with . . ."

"The memory of their lives only," Watari said. "That's the only explanation I can think of for why they might have left town."

"But where would they go?" Tatsumi asked.

"I know where Bon would go," Watari said grimly.

Tatsumi's eyes widened slightly. "Home. He would go home. But what about Tsuzuki-san?"

"I don't know," Watari said. "He never talks about his life. I mean, we can all assume that it was pretty bad, but we don't know where it was pretty bad. He could be anywhere in Japan . . . but he also might have gone with Bon. I'd say that's where we start first. If nothing else, if we can find Bon and Tsuzuki isn't with him, he might be able to tell us where he went."

Tatsumi nodded. "Go ahead. I'll catch up with you. I want to stop by at the office and check on Muraki."

"All right. I'll meet you in Kanagawa."

~~~~

Oriya's eyes just about fell out of his head when Muraki showed up on his doorstep with Tsuzuki. However, he maintained his composure admirably, only giving Muraki a look that said he was going to have a lot of explaining to do as soon as Oriya got him alone.

Muraki had no plans on that happening any time soon. Not so much because he didn't want to get yelled at, but more because he had business to attend to. He had Oriya show them the room he had prepared and was pleased to note what a good job Oriya had done of it, even adding a few personal touches. He made a mental note to find a nice way to thank him.

"There's nothing here to say why I was in Aomori," Tsuzuki said. His voice was hollow, numb.

Muraki was slightly worried about him. Although he knew Tsuzuki's mental state just before his death, and he supposed that he should be happy that he hadn't tried to kill himself yet. Or gone catatonic. Or any number of other things that he had expected. He had spent most of the train ride talking to him in a gentle voice, hoping to keep him calm.

"We'll figure it out," he said. "For now, you should eat something."

"Thank you," Tsuzuki whispered.

Muraki smiled. "For what?"

"For taking care of me . . ." Tsuzuki shook his head. "Everything's all messed up and fuzzy . . . there's so much that I don't remember just from my life, and . . . thank you, that's all. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come."

"You shouldn't think such things, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki said, reaching out one hand to caress the side of Tsuzuki's face, leaning closer.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes at the first touch of his lips.

"Were we . . .?" Tsuzuki's question trailed off as Muraki started to guide him backwards, towards the bed.

"Does it matter?" Muraki asked, kissing him gently. "We are now. Sometimes, Tsuzuki-san, the past is unimportant."

Tsuzuki's eyes stayed closed. The bed hit the back of his knees, and he sat down. Muraki gently pushed his shoulders until he was lying down on it. He felt like he had lost all his energy, and was living in some strange sort of dream. The only thing that seemed real were those hands on his face, lips pressed against his.

It wasn't so much that he wanted Muraki -- he didn't. He wanted anyone. Needed someone. From his earliest memories, he had craved touch and affection. If this man who was apparently his friend was going to provide it, then he would accept it.

"You shouldn't," he heard himself whisper.

Muraki arched an eyebrow at him. "Why not?" he asked, his fingers slowly unknotting Tsuzuki's tie. The action sent a shiver down Tsuzuki's spine.

"You don't know who I really am . . . what I really am . . ."

Muraki laughed, low in the back of his throat. He pulled the tie out of his collar, tugging on it an inch at a time. "Of course I do," he said, tossing the tie aside. "You're not human . . . you think you're a demon and you're probably right. You've been responsible for hundreds of deaths . . . but it doesn't make you any less beautiful."

Tsuzuki shuddered. "I don't know how you can say that."

"Perhaps we're the same," Muraki suggested. His fingers toyed with the first of Tsuzuki's shirt buttons. "Had you thought of that? Would you turn me away if you knew that?"

Tsuzuki thought about it. "No," he finally said. "I'm no better."

"Good." Muraki leaned down and kissed him again. Tsuzuki let his lips part underneath the gentle pressure; although he did not kiss back, he allowed Muraki to kiss him quite thoroughly.

He did not react as Muraki finished unbuttoning his shirt and pushed it aside. He felt distant, detached, as if he were watching all this happening to someone else. Muraki was pressed up against him, hands sliding over his skin, but it felt to Tsuzuki almost as if he were on another plane of existence entirely.

It didn't matter what happened to his body. Nothing really mattered at all. He was dead, but still here. Seemed he couldn't get anything he wanted these days . . .

Then Muraki was abruptly yanked backwards off of him, and when Tsuzuki opened his eyes, the entire room seemed filled with shadows.

~~~~

......wahahaha. XD