Given how little I know about the actual Kurosaki family curse, I pulled quite a bit out of my ass in this chapter. Comes of having never read most of the manga. So, yeah, I was pretty liberal with both fact and characterization. Uh... deal with it?

I was also liberal with Oriya. But that's just because I love him so much.

Chapter Six

There was a long pause while Hisoka waited. His nerves felt like they were trying to crawl out of his skin. After a few moments, the front door cracked open and a young woman looked at him with a polite lack of curiosity. "Hai?"

Hisoka had to swallow hard before speaking. "Is . . . is Kurosaki-san in? I'd like to . . . to speak to him."

"Please come in," she said, standing back to admit him. He could tell from her age that she was too young to have worked there when he had still been kept in the cellar. She must have been hired . . . when? After he went to the hospital? After his death? Was he dead after all?

He shivered.

"I'll see if Kurosaki-san is in," she said. Hisoka knew it was only a nice way of saying that he may or may not get to see his father. "Whom shall I tell him is here to see him?"

Hisoka took a deep breath. "Tell him that . . . please just tell him to come."

She gave him a confused look, then shrugged and nodded. Obviously, she didn't consider it her business. Hisoka wasn't surprised. Servants at the Kurosaki house were very, very good at turning a blind eye to some of the stranger goings-on.

He waited in the front hallway, looking around. Nothing had changed. It really was as if he had just been gone for a few days. Not years in the hospital and certainly not two years of

(being dead)

whatever else had followed.

Hisoka ran his finger along one of the small, decorative tables. It came away with a layer of dust. He shivered again. Like everything else in this family, something was inherently wrong with the house. Inherently wrong with all of them. Wrong? No, not wrong. Cursed. No one had ever told him, not exactly, but he had known it anyway.

"Hisoka."

He turned slowly to face his father.

"Tousama." He bowed slightly, but he didn't lower his eyes to the floor. He had rarely seen his father as a child, generally dealing with his mother instead. He had vivid memories of him, however; particularly of the blindfold that always covered his eyes. The blindfold that was still there at this moment.

"You can't be here," Nagare stated. His voice was calm, but empty.

"I know," Hisoka said. "I'm sorry, I . . . I don't know what's happening to me. I just woke up . . . this morning, and I don't remember anything after . . . after the hospital. I didn't know where else to go, so I . . ."

"You're dead," Nagare stated, in the same flat voice.

Hisoka flinched.

"You've been dead for years."

"I know," Hisoka said, suddenly desperate to make his father understand. "I know, but I don't know why I'm here, and -- "

"Get out."

Nagare turned and started to walk away.

"Tousama, please," Hisoka said, starting forward. Nagare didn't slow down, so Hisoka grabbed for his clothes and managed to get one sleeve. "Please, wait, just let me explain -- "

"Don't touch me!" Nagare rounded on Hisoka furiously and backhanded him across the face. Hisoka went flying from the force of it and hit the wall across the room. "You think you can come back here and ask me for help after what you did?"

"What I did?" Hisoka raised himself up onto his hands and knees. "Please, I don't understand -- "

"You left us," Nagare snarled. "This curse should have passed onto you when you came of age at fifteen, but it didn't. It didn't because you'd already been cursed with something else. I could have been free years ago. Free from this hell that I've been living in ever since I turned fifteen myself. It should have been you!"

"But . . ." Hisoka scrambled to his feet and was knocked down again just as quickly with a hard punch across the face.

"And then you had the nerve to die," Nagare said. "You just died and now I have to try to have another child. You were too good for this family, is that what you think? You have to inflict the curse on another innocent child because you were too good for it?"

"You think this was easy on me?" Hisoka yelled, finally getting back up. "You think for one second that the three years of torture I went through in the hospital was easy? You think that . . . that what he did to me . . ."

He stopped speaking abruptly. He? There wasn't any he. He had died of a disease. Hadn't he?

(You're so beautiful . . . far too beautiful to just kill . . . but believe me, I will enjoy watching you die)

His thoughts were abruptly cut off as his father hit him again. The pain from the first two blows had already faded, the bruises vanished. This time, he stumbled and hit the wall face first, landing on the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of himself. "You have no idea what this curse is," Nagare said coldly. "You have no idea what any of us have gone through for the safety of this village. Don't pretend to be so high and mighty just because of what happened to you."

"Oh, yeah," Hisoka said, gasping for breath. "Just dying, that's not a big thing at all."

Nagare reached around the back of his head and undid the blindfold. Hisoka found himself staring up at his father's eyes.

"There are worse things," Nagare said, "than dying. And living in this family is one of them."

Hisoka couldn't manage to look away.

"Get out," Nagare said. "I don't know why you're here and I don't care. You abandoned this family. You could have survived if you had wanted to. Get out and don't ever come back."

Hisoka slowly dragged himself to his feet. "I didn't choose to leave this family," he said. "I was taken from it. I was killed. You don't have to believe that, but I don't want to leave here with any misunderstandings. I would have taken the curse for this family, for the sake of this village. I would have taken it for you."

He never knew what it was he said that angered his father so much; he only knew that he was suddenly seeing stars as he went flying across the room. But that wasn't what really did it. He was completely overwhelmed by the waves of fury and pain rolling off his father that contact brought.

"This is what you ran away from," he heard Nagare say.

Then, from a thousand miles away --

"Bon? Bon!"

And hands lifting him up, and then he passed out.

~~~~

Tsuzuki was too surprised, at first, to be embarrassed. But once he realized there was another person in the room -- to be precise, a man in an immaculate suit who had shadows twisting around his fingers -- he felt his cheeks burning with a blush. He had never been caught in quite as intimate a position before.

Muraki shrugged the shadows off and laughed. "Ah, the jealous lover enters the scene. Don't worry yourself, Tsuzuki-san . . . I'll take care of this."

Tsuzuki managed a frightened nod, pulling his shirt around himself and holding it closed tightly. He didn't want to involve himself in a combat situation; he could all too vividly remember what had happened the last time he had. He would never forget what had happened there.

"You won't be taking care of anything," Tatsumi said in a thin voice, ignoring the first comment. "You'll be returning Tsuzuki-san to me, and we'll be leaving." The shadows were practically making the room shake.

"Sou?" Muraki asked, amused. He turned to Tsuzuki. "Who would you rather go with, Tsuzuki-san?"

Tsuzuki looked between the two of them, perplexed. "I . . ."

"Don't be fooled by him, Tsuzuki-san," Tatsumi said. "I know you don't remember me, but you can trust me. You can't trust him. He's a liar and a murderer."

Muraki just smiled. "Yes, and I'm sure that bursting in here will -- " His words were cut off as he was forced to jump backwards abruptly as shadows threatened to swallow him from all directions. One managed to hit him, slicing open his shirt and wounding the arm underneath it. Another wrapped around his throat.

"Muraki-san!" Tsuzuki said, standing up.

Muraki managed, by sheer force of will, to pry the shadow off his throat, but he dropped to his knees, gasping for breath.

Tsuzuki moved in between the two.

"Get out of the way, Tsuzuki-san," Tatsumi said softly.

Tsuzuki looked uncertainly at Muraki, who shook his head. "I'll be fine," he managed to choke out.

"Tsuzuki-san," Tatsumi repeated, "please listen to me. That man has lied and deceived you. I don't know what he's told you, but it isn't true. He's tried to kill you on more than one occasion."

"Then why would he . . ." The blush flared up again as Tsuzuki thought back to what they'd been doing before Tatsumi's entrance. It couldn't be true. Why would someone who wanted him dead be so completely gentle with him? It didn't make any sense. "No. No, you're lying. He's been . . . he's been kind to me."

"Just to make you trust him," Tatsumi said through clenched teeth.

"Why?" Tsuzuki asked.

"I don't know, but it can't be any good," Tatsumi replied, giving Muraki a death glare. The doctor had just managed to make his way to his feet, but the shadows wrapped around his legs, pulling him down. Muraki still made no attempt to fight back.

"Stop it!" Tsuzuki said. "Leave him alone!"

The shadows abruptly calmed.

"Tsuzuki-san," Tatsumi said, "please get out of the way."

"No," Tsuzuki said. "If you want to hurt him, you'll have to go through me."

There was a moment of incredulous silence. Muraki smirked at Tatsumi, and nearly got decapitated by a roving shadow. Then the door opened and Oriya looked in. "I don't know what the hell you people are doing," he said irritably, "but if you want to kill each other, go outside. I'm running a business here."

They blinked at him.

"I mean it, Muraki," he snapped.

"All right, all right," Muraki grumbled, getting to his feet. "Besides, I do believe that the fight was over, wasn't it?" He smiled at Tatsumi.

Tatsumi gave him a steady look, then nodded shortly. "For now, it appears I have no choice but to leave Tsuzuki-san in your tender care. But I won't be gone for long." He turned and strode briskly out of the room, past Oriya, who was still in the doorway.

Tsuzuki suddenly realized his shirt was still half-off. He meeped and dodged behind Muraki now the danger was over.

Oriya looked between the two of them with narrowed eyes. "Muraki," he said, his voice steady. "I do believe you have a hell of a lot of explaining to do, and as soon as you'd care to do it, I'll be waiting." He turned and walked out of the room without another word.

Muraki smiled and turned to Tsuzuki. "Thank you for protecting me," he said, causing Tsuzuki to blush brightly again.

"I . . . I couldn't let him hurt you," Tsuzuki said softly. "I'm so tired of people getting hurt right in front of me. I couldn't do anything . . . like when Ruka-chan . . ." He cut himself off abruptly and gave Muraki a weary smile. "I'm sorry . . . I'm tired. Is it all right if I try to get some sleep?"

It wasn't precisely in the plan, but things were going so well that Muraki was inclined towards a good humor. "Of course, Tsuzuki-san. I can imagine that this has been a very long day. I'll see you in the morning?"

Tsuzuki nodded, and even smiled when Muraki kissed him softly before leaving the room.

~~~~

Oriya was standing on the back porch of the Ko Kaku Rou, staring outside. It was a warm summer night, and he was wearing only his kimono, having put away the heavy robe he usually wore in the winter. As he stood, he felt fingers running through his hair, gathering it, playing with it.

"I thought we had an agreement," he said to the backyard. "Your fingers stay away from my hair, and my knee avoids your personal regions."

Muraki chuckled, and let the last of the strands run through his fingers. Oriya's hair had been a bit of a point of contention between them for many years. He simply loved playing with it, but Oriya . . . didn't. At all. He said it was too intimate an act for just friends.

Muraki shrugged. Oriya had been very careful about the boundaries between them ever since they had stopped sleeping together. But that was what made teasing him so much fun. He leaned over Oriya's shoulder, his breath warm against the side of his neck. "You're such a prude, Oriya," he said, his arms sliding around Oriya's waist.

It was a game they both knew well, and always played.

Almost always.

In truth, Muraki was quite impressed with Oriya's self-restraint. He knew that Oriya loved him. Why else would he have put up with him for all these years? Although Muraki never would have admitted it, he found it comforting. Oriya accepted him, for all his flaws, and loved him anyway.

Oriya pushed him away before his fingers could finish undoing the obi that held his kimono on. "Your purple-eyed boyfriend turn in early?" he asked, his voice neutral. The underlying question unspoken.

(Are you only coming to me because he won't have you?)

"Yes," Muraki said. "He was quite tired from the long day he had."

They regarded each other in silence.

Oriya poked Muraki in the chest. "Spill it, you bastard. You'd better tell me what's going on before I really do put my knee someplace unpleasant."

Muraki laughed. "You need to work on your violent tendencies, Oriya," he said, and then, because Oriya's eyebrow was starting to twitch, he explained the situation. Explained how he had managed to teleport from the lab (a skill that had always made Oriya envious) and get medical attention. Explained how he had just happened to notice that Tsuzuki was in Aomori and go pay a visit.

"Why didn't you come back here earlier?" Oriya snapped, when this story was over.

Muraki smiled and shrugged. "I said I wouldn't bother you anymore. I meant to keep my word."

"Jackass," Oriya muttered. "You think that's all you are to me? A bother? That I would be happier if I never saw you again?"

Muraki shrugged again.

"And now you just parade back in here because you needed something from me," Oriya said bitterly. "Isn't that always the way it goes."

"Oriya," Muraki began.

"Oh, shut up," Oriya said, but the words were without anger, the tone fatalistic. He was used to Muraki. God help him if, after all these years, he wasn't. "Just tell me how long you're going to be here this time. You come and go as you please; I know that by now."

"I think we'll be leaving tomorrow," Muraki said.

"Because those other guys have figured out where you are?" Oriya asked. "Yeah, I'm surprised the green-eyed kid hasn't come to kick your ass by now. Or at least to claim his lost love."

Muraki raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, come on," Oriya said, rolling his eyes. "You can't expect him not to. That kid had it bad. Don't tell me you didn't notice. He got run through. Twice. And just kept getting back up."

"He can heal," Muraki informed Oriya in an icy voice.

Oriya snorted. "Doesn't mean that getting sliced open is fun."

"I suppose not," Muraki replied. "But it doesn't change anything. The boy isn't here . . . so that means that Tsuzuki-san is all mine. And we'll be leaving tomorrow, because I really don't fancy the thought of getting walked in on again."

"Big surprise there," Oriya said peaceably. "All right. Tomorrow morning it is. Will you require breakfast before leaving?"

Muraki gave him a look.

Oriya just looked back, unremorseful.

"Sometimes you're really a jerk," Muraki said with a mournful smile. He slid his arm around Oriya's waist again, pulling him close. Their lips met. Then Oriya pushed him away. "You're also a tease."

"You're one to talk," Oriya said, pulling his kimono closer around him.

Muraki regarded him carefully. "You're more upset with me than usual. I suppose I should apologize for letting you think I was dead? I was only trying to make things easier on you, honestly."

"Sometimes I don't think you have an ounce of brains in that pretty little head of yours," Oriya drawled, lighting a cigarette. "For one thing, you were being an idiot. Making me think you were dead did not, in any way, make me any happier or make my life any easier. Secondly, that's not why I'm annoyed with you and you're stupid if you can't figure it out."

Muraki smiled. "You don't like that I brought Tsuzuki here."

"Give the man a prize," Oriya said, looking disgusted.

"I think you're jealous."

"Don't make me hit you, you arrogant son of a bitch."

Muraki's smile widened. "You are jealous. It's written all over your face. You don't like that I'm involved with someone else."

Oriya gave him a withering look. "I could list all the things that I don't like about you bringing Tsuzuki here, but it would take all night and you'd get very bored. Let me just cap the highlights for you. First off, I don't like you bringing another man here. You never have before. Secondly, I don't like the fact that he was terrified of you and you kidnapped him and I can imagine what you did with him then because I know what your idea of fun is. Don't you remember why we stopped sleeping together, Muraki? It's because when you touched me, I kept thinking of the children you'd raped."

Muraki stood silently through this tirade. "Are you done?"

"No," Oriya snapped. "Thirdly, I don't know why he doesn't have any memory or why he's suddenly decided that you're his lord and savior, but I like that even less. You're taking advantage of him and it's pissing me off."

"And fourth and lastly . . ." Muraki moved too quickly for Oriya to anticipate, and had him pinned to the wall in a matter of seconds, pressing their bodies together. "You don't like the fact that I didn't try to crawl into your bed for once, the last time I was here."

Oriya tried to get out of Muraki's grasp, and found himself too well pinned. "No," he said. "No, I didn't like that either."

"Heh." Muraki let him go. "It amuses me the way you always turn me down so vehemently, yet when I stop trying, you get angry with me."

Oriya gave him an annoyed look. "I suppose it was hoping for too much to think that you would understand," he said bitterly.

"Tell me, Oriya . . . why does the fact that I'm a murderer make no difference to you, but the fact that I'm a rapist does?" Muraki asked curiously.

"Because murder is quick," Oriya spat out. "Because it's over and done with when it happens. But what you've done . . . that lasts for lifetimes, Muraki. Don't you understand the scars you leave? Or is that all part of the fun for you? Is watching the years of pain and suffering and aftermath part of the game?"

Muraki smiled. "What would you do if I said yes?"

Oriya gave him a long, steady look. "Get out, Muraki. Take your boytoy and get out. Just be gone in the morning."

He turned to go upstairs to his room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Muraki smiled slightly and lit a cigarette, looking out across the dew-soaked yard. "And that," he said softly to no one, "is why I knew you'd be better off without me."

~~~~