Lots of pretty Muraki/Oriya stuff in this chapter. Not that I'm recently obsessed with that pairing or anything... no, of course not.

Chapter Nine

"Well . . . now what?" Oriya started to lay Hisoka on the ground, then thought better of it and plunked him down on a nearby bench instead. He gave Muraki a skeptical glance. "And I would highly advise you to discard whatever three answers first come to your mind."

Muraki cleared his throat. He discarded the most obvious (using Hisoka as bait for Tsuzuki), discarded the second most obvious (using Hisoka in other manners), and discarded the third (killing him right there on the spot). "I suppose you're going to suggest we take him back to Tsuzuki's loving arms," he said, a bit snappishly.

"You know me well," Oriya said. "They're probably staying in a hotel, ne?"

Muraki glared at him and said nothing.

"Oh, yeah," Oriya said. "Like I'm going to believe you don't know where they were staying. Honestly, you're such a jerk sometimes."

Muraki's glare intensified. "You might want to stop and think for once in your life," he said, annoyed. "What do you think Tsuzuki and that irritating Shadowmaster will do if we show up on their doorstep with this unconscious brat?"

Oriya gave Hisoka a speculative look. "Well, he's not bleeding from his eye sockets, so he's doing better than usual," he remarked.

The glare shifted, very subtly, into a dirty look. "You really don't believe they'll just let us waltz in there, drop him on the bed, and say 'oh, here's your partner, we found him lost in the rain.' Do you? Because if you do, I'm sadly disappointed. I thought you were smarter than that."

"Look," Oriya said, giving him a withering look, "if you don't propose we take him back, and you know damn well I'll veto whatever your other suggestions would have been, what the hell do you suggest we do?"

Muraki shrugged. "Leave him here."

Oriya shifted from foot to foot. "It's raining," he pointed out.

"Since when did you become such a hero?" Muraki asked, sounding amused. "What, are you afraid he's going to catch the sniffles?"

"Look, won't you just tell me where their hotel is?" Oriya asked, frustrated.

"No." Muraki turned and began to walk away. Oriya ground his teeth and hovered for a minute in indecision. He didn't particularly want to leave Hisoka sitting on the bench, given that he was obviously either ill or suffering from some sort of magical trauma. But if he brought him along, he'd have to keep a sharp watch on Muraki the entire time, and that wouldn't exactly be fun. He would also have no way of stopping Muraki from using Hisoka to lure Tsuzuki in.

"Sometimes I hate you so much," he said. He scooped Hisoka up and lifted him over one shoulder. "Let's bring him back to the hotel room we got."

"That's where I was heading," Muraki said.

"You're an arrogant prick," Oriya stated.

"And you think you know what's best," Muraki replied. "But you don't. Not in this case, anyway."

Oriya snorted. "I know that your concept of what's best and what isn't is quite a far cry from reality. I also know that you're a pedophilic pervert." The insult was tossed off casually. He wasn't really thinking about what he was saying. He was trying to plan out how to keep Muraki from torturing Hisoka.

He just had to keep him distracted long enough to figure out where the hell the Shinigami were staying. If he was lucky, Hisoka would wake up and leave on his own. But something about his sudden collapse made Oriya suspect that this was something far deeper than physical.

They walked back to their hotel in sullen silence. Oriya deposited Hisoka on the bed after laying some towels down. He really was soaking wet, and Oriya didn't relish the thought of sleeping on wet blankets. He sat down with the phone book.

"What on earth are you doing?" Muraki asked. "Don't tell me you're seriously going to call all the hotels until you've figured out where they're staying."

"Actually, I was going to order us some Chinese food, but now that you mention it . . ."

"Ha ha," Muraki remarked dryly, rolling his eyes. Keeping half an eye on Oriya, he wandered over towards the bed and sat on the edge of it. He watched as Oriya dialed the first hotel and asked if any guests named Tsuzuki Asato or Kurosaki Hisoka were registered. He watched as he hung up. Oriya appeared absorbed in what he was doing, but Muraki didn't buy it. He slid one hand towards Hisoka.

As he had suspected, he hadn't gotten more than an inch closer when he found the blade of a knife resting on his wrist. He smirked up at Oriya's mild expression.

"You're really trying to piss me off, aren't you," Oriya said, withdrawing the knife. "Touch him, and I'll slice all your fingers off. And maybe some other things that you're fond of."

Muraki laughed and withdrew his hand. In truth, he knew that Oriya could honestly wipe the floor with him in a physical fight. Oriya had been trained in martial arts ever since he had been born. If he was able to use magic, however . . .

Well, then Oriya posed no threat at all.

Of course, a battle of that sort would probably end in Oriya being dead, and although Muraki was not quite sure why, he knew without question that he did not want Oriya to be dead.

He sat back to wait.

Twenty minutes later, Oriya got off the phone. He looked like he was in a foul mood. "They're not registered anywhere," he snapped at Muraki.

"Well, don't look at me like it's my fault," Muraki said mildly.

"It is damn well your fault," Oriya retorted. "If you had just told me where their hotel was, then I wouldn't have had to make all the damn phone calls. I suppose they're probably registered under another name . . ." He glared at Hisoka speculatively, and wondered if he could get him to wake up. "Oh, move over," he snarled at Muraki, shoving him off the bed.

Muraki landed on the floor with a thud and held back a wince. Oriya could get downright violent when he was in a bad mood. He watched as his friend sat where he had been and shook Hisoka gently. "He's not going to wake up," Muraki said.

"I can see that," Oriya said through clenched teeth.

"I think he's under some sort of spell," Muraki said, leaning against the bed and not bothering to get up off the floor. "Either that or something's short-circuited in his head, and he won't be awake for quite some time."

"Some help you are," Oriya replied.

"Relax, Oriya," Muraki said, sounding amused. "Go light a cigarette. It'll help you calm down."

Oriya rolled his eyes and walked over to where he had left his cigarette holder. He didn't like just holding them in his fingers. It made his skin yellowish. He had been a chain smoker in college. Recently, he'd forced himself to cut back. It was hard to do martial arts when he couldn't breathe.

When he turned back, Muraki had moved back to where he'd been sitting on the bed, and was possessively running his fingers through Hisoka's hair. Oriya nearly had a conniption. "Will you please STOP that?"

Muraki smirked. "You're the one who decided to bring him here. I would have been content to leave him on a bench in the rain."

Oriya fought the urge to slap the smirk right off his face. "You're going to be doing that every damn time I turn my back, aren't you," he asked. "If I need to go to the bathroom, you'll have half his clothes off by the time I get back out here."

"It's possible," Muraki conceded, playing with one of the buttons on Hisoka's shirt.

"And you're doing it just to piss me off, aren't you."

"Perhaps."

Oriya cursed inwardly and ran through the possibilities. He couldn't get a hold of the other Shinigami; he didn't know how. He could go around to every hotel, but that probably wouldn't result in anything better than calling had, and would leave Muraki alone with Hisoka. That was just no good. The best option he could think of was to keep him overnight and hope that he would wake up in the morning, but this game he was going to have to play with Muraki was going to drive him nuts.

He was tempted to try reverse psychology, and claim that he didn't care what Muraki did, and wander off. By far the easiest option, but it was perfectly possible that Muraki would then go ahead and do what he pleased just to spite him.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" he asked, exasperated.

"Mm hmm." Muraki stood up and walked over to where Oriya was still standing with the cigarette holder in hand, unlit. "There are, of course, other ways to keep me entertained . . ."

Oriya closed his eyes. "Please tell me that you're not about to say you've been taunting me in an effort to get into my kimono."

Muraki pushed his hair over his shoulders and ran one finger teasingly up and down the gap in aforementioned kimono. "And if I was . . .?" he asked softly, leaning over to breathe the words into Oriya's ear.

"If you were . . ." Oriya fought to not go weak at the knees. Damn it, he was not going to be manipulated by Muraki like this. "Then you might find yourself getting acquainted with my dagger very shortly."

"You wouldn't kill me, and we both know it," Muraki whispered, one hand sliding inside the kimono. "So why bother posturing? You want to keep the boy safe . . . and I want you. This way, we both get what we want."

Oriya closed his eyes and shivered. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this. He was abstinent by choice, but he couldn't deny that he had missed it. And even when he had not been abstinent, no one had ever touched him the same way Muraki did.

Before he was fully aware of what was happening, Muraki had maneuvered him backwards and onto the other bed. Oriya rebelled at this. "I am not having sex in this room while he is asleep on the other bed," he said sharply.

Muraki chuckled, a low sound which made Oriya shiver again. "You don't think it would be funny if he woke up to this? He'd be traumatized for life . . . poor thing," he added, unconvincingly.

Oriya gave him a contemptuous look. Then he sharply pushed Muraki away and got off the bed.

"Change your mind already?" Muraki asked, amused. "You're so fickle, Oriya."

"Shut up," Oriya said. "You know I'm only doing this to protect him. It's not like I want it."

"You do want it," Muraki said, his voice the epitome of calm and reason. "If you didn't, you wouldn't have come with me. You knew that's what you were leading up to, even if you didn't know consciously."

Oriya thought about it and realized he was probably right. There was no way he could have possibly expected to spend a week or more in a hotel with Muraki, trying to keep him distracted from Tsuzuki and Hisoka, and not have sex with him. He hadn't thought about it, but he must have known it subconsciously. As usual, Muraki was right.

Well, damn the man anyway.

"It bothered you when I ignored you in favor of Tsuzuki," Muraki continued. "This is the only way you have to claim me back. You still have hope for me, Oriya. It's really rather endearing."

"Stop psychoanalyzing me," Oriya snapped. "You've got more mental disorders than I have kimonos, you freak."

Muraki just laughed. "Tell me I'm wrong. Go ahead."

Oriya looked sullenly at the carpet. Why was it that he could win nine out of ten arguments with Muraki, but when he lost, he got completely crushed into the ground? Somehow it didn't seem fair.

Muraki walked over to him and stood behind him, starting to push the kimono off. "That," he said quietly, planting a soft kiss on Oriya's shoulder, "is why you aren't going to resist. Because you still want to save me."

Oriya turned around and pulled the knife out again, pressing it against Muraki's throat. "You're wrong," he said. "I did want to save you. But I don't want to fuck you." He stepped forward, forcing Muraki back a step. And then another step. "Because you use me, and it pisses me off." Another step. "Maybe someday, when you're ready to have a real relationship, then I'll give a damn about saving you again. But until then, get out."

Muraki raised an eyebrow at him. He was backed up against the door to their room.

"Wait," Oriya said. He reached inside Muraki's shirt pocket and took out the hotel key to the room. "Now go. And don't come back. Maybe tomorrow, if I'm feeling benevolent, I'll let you back in."

Muraki laughed softly. "I can't. You've got me pressed up against the door and it opens inwards."

Oriya glared, then allowed him a few steps so he could get the door open. Then he backed him out into the hallway and slammed the door in his face. Muraki heard the bolt latch. He gave a low chuckle. The lock wouldn't keep him out, not if he was determined enough to get in, but he had a feeling that if he went back in, Oriya really might start using the knife. So instead, he decided he would find somewhere else to go.

Inside, Oriya leaned against the door and pressed one hand to his face.

He couldn't stop trembling.

~~~~

By six thirty, Tsuzuki was in a full blown panic and Watari had to admit that he, too, was worried. Although, as he had said, it was perfectly normal for Hisoka to take walks for hours when he was troubled, these were unique circumstances. He did not think that Hisoka would have just wandered off.

But for all intents and purposes, he had. Watari had left Tsuzuki in the hotel room and done a quick sweep of the area, but there had been no sign of the younger Shinigami. He was beginning to think that both Tsuzuki and Hisoka should have homing devices put in their collars. He'd never known anyone to get lost or kidnapped more often.

Then again, that was Muraki's fault.

Watari clenched his fists slightly. He was sure that somehow, the doctor was behind this. But he didn't know how to go about finding him. "Ne, Tsuzuki," he said. "Why don't you send out a tracker spirit for him? We ought to be able to locate him pretty quickly that way."

Tsuzuki's eyes brightened. "I didn't even think of that . . ." he admitted, a sure sign of how stressed and worried he really was. However, before Watari could further ponder this or Tsuzuki could send out a spirit, there was a knock on the door. "Maybe Hisoka forgot his key!" Tsuzuki said, and bounded over to the door to answer it. When he opened it, no one was there. Tsuzuki stopped, and stood very still.

"What is it?" Watari asked. He went over and leaned over his shoulder to see. Left on their doorstep were a dozen red roses. There was a small envelope on top of them with Tsuzuki's name on it.

With shaking hands, Tsuzuki opened the envelope and slid out a small piece of paper. His eyes scanned it quickly, then he took a deep breath and read it aloud. "My darling Tsuzuki. These roses are for you. Missing you always, Muraki Kazutaka." His voice cracked. "P. S.: Your young partner is looking very pale. You should keep a closer eye on him."

He crumpled the note and let it fall to the floor.

Watari cursed underneath his breath, and wondered how he could have been so stupid as to let Hisoka out and about by himself.

Tsuzuki rocked and swayed on his feet.

"What is it?" Watari asked, alarmed.

"I don't -- " Tsuzuki put one hand to his head. "I don't feel good," he said weakly. "Dizzy. Tired."

Watari's eyes widened. He started to scramble for the folder of papers, then darted back and caught Tsuzuki as he crumbled to the floor.

~~~~

Ten minutes later, Watari had papers spread all over the floor. Tsuzuki was unconscious on the bed. Watari had been unable to bring him back to consciousness. He felt a migraine starting at his temples. Hisoka was missing, presumably in the custody of Muraki, wherever he was. And Tsuzuki had passed out, which was never a good thing.

Watari looked over the papers. How could he have been so stupid? The memory was the first thing to go -- in every case, the actual sickness hadn't started until a day later.

This was definitely not good.

But the spell was off. They hadn't lost their personalities. Something had gone wrong. That meant they could possibly have more than the four days left, but it certainly wasn't something to bet on.

He closed his eyes and pressed two fingers against his temple.

The phone rang. He jumped, startled, and leaned over to answer it. "Watari desu."

There was a pause, then a cautious voice asked. "Is Tsuzuki-san there?" The voice was familiar, but offhand, Watari didn't place it. Who would have had their hotel room number?

"He can't come to the phone," Watari said. "What can I do for you?"

Another pause. "But this is his room."

"Hai."

"All right. This is Mibu Oriya. I thought you and Tsuzuki might be looking for the boy. Hisoka."

Watari jumped. "Yes, we are. How did you get this number?"

When Oriya spoke, he sounded irritated with himself. "The kiddo was carrying it in his pocket. I didn't think to check until now. I guess he wanted to make sure he could find his way back if he lost his memory again."

"Ohh," Watari said. He remembered Hisoka asking for the number when they had reached the apartment. "That's good. Why didn't he just tell you himself? No, never mind, don't answer that. He's probably fainted. And that's why he's with you."

If Oriya was surprised, he gave no sign of it. "Aa. Fainted right on top of Muraki and I. We didn't know where else to bring him, so we brought him back here."

Watari thought back to the note. "Yeah, well, Muraki sort of let us know with his cute little roses and nasty fanmail."

"What?" Oriya asked, sounding annoyed.

"Never mind." Watari's head ached. "Bon asked for the address, so you must have it. Can you bring him here? Or should I come get him?"

"I'll bring him."

"Good." Watari paused. "Why are you on our side?"

"Do you really need to know that?" Oriya asked irritably. "Isn't it enough to know that I am on your side? Hisoka never would have gotten in to see Tsuzuki if I hadn't let him. Tsuzuki never would have had the brains to go with Hisoka if I hadn't said something. Muraki would have molested Hisoka halfway to Tokyo by now if I hadn't intervened. Don't question my actions."

He hung up before Watari could reply.

Watari closed his eyes briefly. Tsuzuki tossed and turned slightly. After a pause, Watari turned and tried to estimate his fever. It was high, but not dangerously so. He let out a virulent curse. Then he sat back to wait. About fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Watari opened it and let Oriya in.

"Thank you for bringing him back," he said.

"My pleasure," Oriya replied. He deposited Hisoka on the bed next to Tsuzuki and immediately noted the similarities in their condition. He glanced around and saw the roses. "God, what an asshole," he snarled, glaring at them. "He never gives me roses."

That one statement cleared up a lot for Watari.

Oriya turned back to him. "Maybe you'd better tell me what's going on," he said evenly. "I might be able to help."

Watari figured that it could hurt. If Oriya wasn't on their side, he wouldn't have brought Hisoka back. And he had obviously protected the boy from Muraki. In any case, they needed all the help they could get. He explained the case and what had happened to Tsuzuki and Hisoka, and what he suspected was happening now.

Oriya listened in silence. A few minutes into the story, he lit his pipe and smoked while Watari explained.

"Do you have any idea where Muraki is now?" Watari asked, when he was done.

Oriya snorted. "Yeah, 'cause I can almost keep a hold of the man. No, I don't know. I kicked him out of the hotel because he was getting on my nerves. That must be when he brought his little present over. As to where he is now, I don't know." He shrugged, then added reluctantly, "but he's probably got his cell phone. But why do you want to get hold of him?"

Watari lifted his hands in surrender. "I just wanted to be prepared for all eventualities, that's all."

Oriya nodded.

The door opened and Tatsumi walked in. "What's going on?" he asked. He saw Oriya and tensed, but didn't say anything. Then he noticed Tsuzuki and Hisoka's unconscious forms. "This cannot be good."

Watari turned to him and gave him a weary smile. "No," he said. "It isn't."

~~~~