It's not dead! It's not dead!!

Of course, I have no idea if anyone remembers even the slightest bit of what was going on. Eheh. Please forgive any typos. I'll try not to be as long with the next chapter, I swear.

Chapter Ten

Watari briefed Tatsumi on everything that had happened since his departure. Tatsumi listened with his usual stoic lack of expression, but Watari could see the worry in his eyes. Oriya just kept chain-smoking, as if he expected this to help.

After Tatsumi had given all the same useless suggestions that Watari had been batting around in his own head, they sank into gloomy silence. Everyone jumped as the phone rang, then Watari leaned over and scooped it up. "Watari desu."

There was a slight pause, then a smoothly familiar voice. "Is Oriya there?"

Watari cupped his hand over the receiver and mouthed 'It's Muraki' at Oriya. Several expressions chased across Oriya's face: surprise, suspicion, annoyance. Then he grabbed the phone. "So you really did have this number the whole time, you bastard," he snarled. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to make sure I was right and that you had actually gone over there like the fool that you are," Muraki said with a slight sigh. "I suppose there's not much to be done for it."

"No," Oriya said. "There's absolutely nothing to be done for my lingering humanity."

Watari and Tatsumi exchanged glances.

"So now you're all over at their hotel," Muraki said dryly. "All in one neat little place if this demon decides to come get you."

"Oh, screw you," Oriya said, trying to pretend he wasn't nervous at Muraki's statement. "You talk like you know something about all this."

Silence.

"Oh my God," Oriya said. "You know something about this." He slammed the phone back in the cradle.

Watari and Tatsumi both looked startled at this. "Ano . . ." Watari began to interrupt, about to ask if it was all right to hang up on Muraki if he knew something about the situation. As much as he loathed the doctor, they couldn't afford to pass up any possibility of information.

Oriya held up his hand, warding off whatever Watari was going to say. Holding up his fingers, he slowly counted down from five. Just as he lowered the last finger, the phone rang again. Grinning at the look of amusement on Watari's face, Oriya picked up the phone. "What?"

"What'll you give me for the information?"

Oriya hung up again. "That jerk," he muttered, underneath his breath.

The phone rang. Oriya grabbed it before the others had even registered the sound, but said nothing.

"Don't be so contrary, Oriya," Muraki said, sounding amused. "Don't you want to know so you can help your new friends?"

"What do you want?" Oriya asked flatly.

"Well, to start with, you know I don't want Tsuzuki-san to die, so I'd think that perhaps we could all put aside our differences and work together on this. But as for the immediate . . . I think we've already discussed at some length what I'm interested in."

Oriya hung up the phone a final time, more quietly. They waited in silence, but it didn't ring.

"He's not going to call." Tatsumi stated the obvious.

"He wasn't going to tell me anyway," Oriya snapped. "He just likes to taunt me."

"Regardless of whatever's going on between you two, understand that I'm a little more deeply invested in the situation than you are," Tatsumi said. His voice was calm, but his eyes had started to glint dangerously. "So perhaps whatever issue you two are having could be – "

Hisoka groaned and sat up abruptly. "Where am I?"

They stared at him in surprise. "Bon?" Watari asked tentatively. "Do you remember us?"

Hisoka glared at him. "Of course I remember you. Well, from today anyway," he added hastily, not wanting to give them the wrong impression. "But . . . what happened? I was out in the rain, and then . . . there was this voice, and it wouldn't stop . . . and you were there." He looked at Oriya, his eyes narrowing.

Watari smacked himself in the forehead. "How could I be so stupid!" he announced abruptly, digging through the stacks of paper. "It never takes more than one at once! They can't both be infected by the demon; it doesn't have the capacity! It always went from victim to victim after each one died! It's only Tsuzuki that's . . ."

They all blinked at Tsuzuki, who was lying very still.

"Is that supposed to be comforting?" Oriya drawled.

"But Kurosaki-kun also lost his memory," Tatsumi pointed out, determined to be logical. "If he's not infected by the demon, then why did he lose his memory? And why did he pass out just now?"

There was a long pause. "I don't know," Watari finally said.

"And I thought it wasn't a demon," Tatsumi added. "Because there was no demon in the Makai that had this power."

"Well, no demon that we knew about," Watari said, "which is slightly different, but there was that name on the Kiseki, which means that at one point the person was human . . . but . . ."

"Can a human become a demon?" Oriya asked curiously, wondering if he should be worried about Muraki in this regard.

"In certain cases," Tatsumi said, still frowning faintly. "It's very rare. There's rituals and sacrifices . . . and in most cases, they become a demon so weak that the other Makai turn on them and kill them almost immediately."

"So we still know absolutely nothing," Watari said with a sigh. "Shinigami, meet square one."

"I believe we're well acquainted," Tatsumi said dryly, glad that he was still able to find amusement in Watari's commentary.

Oriya frowned at Hisoka, who was staring fixedly off into space, and had been ever since the discussion had started. "Oi, kiddo," he said. "You still with us?"

Hisoka jerked his head towards Oriya, then shook himself slightly. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked if you were still with us," Oriya said, "but your reaction made the answer a fairly clear no."

Hisoka shook his head. "I keep . . . drifting . . . I can hear it, it's like sandpaper inside my head . . ." He lifted both his hands to his ears and rubbed vigorously, as if this would make the voice go away.

Watari knelt by the edge of the bed. "What voice?"

"It's . . . it's calling to me, like . . . it wants me to come, but I don't know why. It . . . it promises me things, or threatens me. It's inside my head!" Hisoka's voice rose slightly in pitch and he looked wildly up at Watari. "Make it stop, it won't stop, it's calling me . . ."

Watari glanced at Tatsumi, who nodded slightly. "Then let's follow it," Watari said with false cheer. "Let's see where it wants you to go."

As much as Hisoka's common sense told him that this was a Bad Idea, he couldn't help but obey. As soon as the words were out of Watari's mouth, he struggled upwards and stumbled towards the door. His feet were no longer under his control, no longer moving of his own volition.

Watari hastened to follow, then glanced at Tatsumi.

"I'll stay here with Tsuzuki-san," Tatsumi said evenly. "Muraki-san is still out there."

"I'll go." Oriya stood, suddenly glad he had brought his katana. With Muraki in such a poor mood, it had seemed like a reasonable amount of caution to exhibit. Watari nodded and the two of them followed Hisoka out of the building. As soon as he was in fresh air, he began to run.

"Wait for us, Bon!" Watari called, starting to lose sight of him in the dim, rainy distance. Hisoka showed no signs of slowing.

"We're not going to be able to keep up," Oriya said, already out of breath.

Watari considered his options, then rolled his eyes. He'd have to fly in order to catch up; that ought to be amusing. "Grab hold 'round my waist," he instructed. Oriya blinked for a few seconds, then did what Watari had said. Watari launched himself into the air moments later.

He had loved flying from the first moment he had realized that, as a Shinigami, he now had the power to. For quite some time, he had tried to figure out the physics of it, since the Shinigami still had regular bodies. These efforts had been to no avail, however, so he had decided it would be easier to just enjoy it.

It wasn't as if it even required physical motion. He just hovered in the air and thought about going forward, and forward he went. Singularly bizarre, in Watari's opinion. It seemed that Oriya agreed with him on that count; the other man's arms were wrapped around him tightly enough to pinch, and he was most decidedly not looking down.

"Ah, I see him!" Watari crowed, coming down through a slight bank of mist to see Hisoka stop dead and look around, bewildered. There were on an abandoned playground.

Watari landed with a thud, causing Oriya to lose his balance and nearly fall. Hisoka simply stood in the middle of the playground and looked around slowly. "It . . . it's . . ." He pressed both his hands against his ears. "It's here, I can . . ."

The sky opened up and rain started to pour down. Visibility was immediately so bad that Watari had trouble keeping track of the others. Hisoka was only visible because of his bright orange shirt, and Oriya only because they were just a few feet apart.

"What the hell is going on?" Oriya yelled.

Watari gave him a helpless look.

/ you're here /

Hisoka took a few stumbling steps forward, towards the swing set. He couldn't see anything, but he could hear the voice calling him. It was in his mind rather than in his ears, but he could hear it clearly all the same.

/ I'm so glad you came /

"Bon, no!" Watari grabbed Hisoka by the back of the shirt and tugged him away. Hisoka struggled against his grip, but Watari held him firm.

/ come to me come to me COME NOW /

Watari found himself thrown backwards by a burst of psychic power he hadn't known Hisoka capable of. He landed flat on his back and groaned, struggling back to his feet. The rain had let up enough so he could see what was happening. Hisoka managed another few steps forward, then stopped dead. Oriya's katana was leveled at his face.

"You'll have to go through me," Oriya said, and he cut an impressive figure, despite the fact that he was drenched and shivering.

For a few moments, everything was very still.

"You have to make everything so difficult, don't you," a light, childish voice said. They stared wildly through the rain to see the young girl get off one of the swings and start towards them. She seemed utterly unaffected by the rain. "That's all right. You probably won't believe me, but I was trying to get him to come here so I could free him from the spell I put on him."

Watari looked at her incredulously. "You're right. We don't believe you."

She rolled her eyes, an adult expression on her childlike face. "It got tangled up somehow," she said petulantly. "On both of them, but him the worst, because of his . . . his . . . I don't know the word."

Dumbfounded, Watari managed, "Psychic magic?"

"Yes, that's it," she said. "It got tangled with the spell, because the spell is also psychic magic, although of a different sort."

They still stared at her. "You don't sound like a six year old," Oriya finally said. "But then again, I guess you're not. Exactly how old are you?"

She giggled. "Never ask a lady her age."

"You're not a lady," Watari said flatly. He glanced over at Hisoka worriedly. With the demon's entrance, he had gone very still, and was staring at her blankly. His expression was totally empty. "We found you on the Kiseki. At one point you were a thirty-six year old man."

The demon shrugged. "The spell sort of warps depending on the last person I've taken."

"Okay, you know what?" Oriya asked abruptly. "I don't like this. Because I've seen enough movies to know that when the villain starts explaining herself to you, it's because you're all about to die. So what do you say we get the hell out of here before something happens?"

"No," Watari said. "Not until I know how to get Tsuzuki back."

The demon giggled. "You can't. He's wonderful. I'm never letting him go. His power . . . it burns me, but it still feels sooooo good. If I just keep him forever, then I can keep feeding off others without having to stop and rest for years and years in between . . . I'll grow more and more powerful . . ."

"Release Hisoka, then," Watari said, his voice very quiet. "Since you don't need him. Let him go."

She shrugged. "All right."

They watched her distrustfully as she stepped forward lightly and pressed her index finger against his forehead. Hisoka's eyes closed and he sagged to the ground. Oriya just barely managed to catch him before he wound up face first in the mud.

"You're pretty strong, too," the girl said, and Oriya found himself staring directly into her large brown eyes. "And you've got a much better form than this one . . . I think . . ." She reached out. Oriya tried to get to his katana, but his arms were full of Hisoka and he wasn't fast enough.

A sharp crack went off; the sound of a gunshot. The demon flew backwards a few feet, then got to her feet, snarling.

"Touch Oriya," Muraki said quietly, leveling the gun at her, "and I will kill you."

Everything was still for a few moments.

"Fine," she snapped. "Ruin my fun."

With that, she was gone, and so was the rain.

Oriya allowed himself to breathe again. He slowly got to his feet, picking Hisoka up with him and laying him down on a bench. Watari hurried over and checked on him, but the younger Shinigami seemed fine, if asleep. He frowned and picked him up.

"Aren't you going to thank me?" Muraki asked, sounding amused.

Oriya punched him across the face. "You bastard," he snarled. "If you had just told me what was going on, I wouldn't have nearly gotten my soul sucked out and my good looks stolen by some demon brat. How the hell long have you known what was behind this?"

Watari, who had been about to walk away, paused. He was interested in hearing the answer to this.

Muraki wiped the blood off the corner of his mouth, where Oriya had hit him. "I've been looking into the possibilities every since we got to Aomori this time," he said smoothly. "There are only a few demons who possess this capability, and it didn't take me long to figure out which one it was."

"Was it telling the truth, just now?" Watari asked in a strained voice. "About Tsuzuki?"

There was a long pause. Muraki slowly nodded. "I believe so, yes."

"Great," Watari said, closing his eyes momentarily. "Well, we'll just have to find some way to stop it, that's all." He started walking back towards their hotel. "Oriya-san, are you going to be coming with us?" he asked over his shoulder.

Oriya glared at Muraki, then nodded shortly. "Yes."

"May he join you later?" Muraki said, getting hold of Oriya's wrist. "I believe he's a bit in my debt at the moment, and I'd like to speak to him."

Watari sighed. "I'm not getting involved in your lover's quarrel," he announced. "Oriya-san, do what you like. Chop his head off for all I care. Just meet me at the hotel later. Or don't. Just . . . oh, for God's sake, Muraki, buy him some roses, okay?" He stalked off with Hisoka in his arms, hardly believing what he had just said.

Muraki blinked after him. "I'm supposed to buy you roses?"

"You're not supposed to do anything," Oriya said irritably, folding his arms across his chest. "What do you want?"

Muraki shrugged. "You stormed out earlier, and then hung up on me. I wanted to be sure that you were safe. I should have known you would have walked into something stupid like this."

"Are you asking for me to hit you again?" Oriya snarled.

"Not particularly," Muraki said, his tone noncommittal.

Oriya scowled and drew back a fist to do just that. Muraki grabbed him by the wrist and twisted it up around his back, pulling him close, so they were facing less than an inch apart. "Let me go," Oriya hissed.

Muraki sighed. "And this is how you reward me for saving your life. Don't I get at least one kiss?"

"I'd reward you if you hadn't been such an ass all day and put me in the position to get killed." Oriya struggled to get free, but Muraki had him in a very tight grip, and he knew he wouldn't get away without making some concessions. "Fine. One kiss."

Muraki smiled and leaned forward, gently parting Oriya's lips with his own. Oriya's eyes slid closed and he surrendered to the kiss, wondering how Muraki managed to do this to him every damn time they were close.

And when Muraki released him, the loss was almost a physical pain.

~~~~~

Tatsumi stood up quickly when Watari walked into the room, drenched and bedraggled, and carrying an equally drenched and bedraggled Hisoka in his arms. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Hi, good to see you too, got a towel?" Watari asked.

Tatsumi sighed and went into the bathroom, coming out with two standard hotel towels. Watari had deposited Hisoka on one of the beds, and was checking him for a fever. He accepted one of the towels from Tatsumi and dried most of the water off of Hisoka's sleeping form.

"So what happened?" Tatsumi asked with clenched teeth.

Watari reached for the towel, but Tatsumi held it out of reach. The scientist rolled his eyes, but he smiled. "It's okay," he said, and explained in brief what had happened in the park. Tatsumi listened in silence during the monologue, his blue eyes troubled.

"So is there any way to get Tsuzuki back?" he asked.

"Well, not right now," Watari said. "But we did learn something important – the demon plans on keeping him in this sort of stasis forever. Since he regenerates, it's like she can eternally feed off his power. So we don't have a time limit, which is good."

Tatsumi nodded. "I suppose it is."

Watari bustled over to Tsuzuki's side. "Well, his fever hasn't gone up any and his pulse is steady, so he's not in any immediate danger . . . not that Shinigami can die of illnesses anyway, but . . ." He pushed his sopping hair out of his face, deep in thought. "She was able to release Hisoka from the spell with just a touch, so it couldn't have been too complicated a trigger . . ."

There was a pause, and a slight sigh from behind him. Tatsumi, seeing that Watari had totally forgotten about being soaked, draped the towel over his head.

"Huh? Oh, thanks." Watari accepted the towel and vigorously rubbed his hair dry. "So that's why I can't see," he muttered, taking off his glasses and trying, in vain, to dry them on the now damp towel. "Hm," he said, peering at them critically.

Tatsumi sighed and took the glasses from Watari's hand, pulling his handkerchief out of his suit pocket. "You're hopeless," he said severely.

"I know," Watari said, with his usual sunny grin. "Anyway, for now I think it might be best if we went back to the Meifu. If I can have use of my lab, I might have better luck determining how to help Tsuzuki. And anyway, it might be better that way, with Muraki wandering around making a nuisance of himself."

"Good idea," Tatsumi said. "And Mibu-san?"

"Hmm . . . I don't know, I said he could join us, but I really don't know what's between him and Muraki . . ."

"I'm not sure we can trust him," Tatsumi said.

"I'm not sure either," Watari admitted. "I mean . . . he did give us the keycard when it really mattered . . ."

"Because Muraki had told him to delay us, not defeat us," Tatsumi put in.

"And he did protect Bon from Muraki and make sure that he got back here safely, and I'm not exactly sure what that means."

Tatsumi shrugged. "I'm sure it means, at least in part, that he's jealous of the attention Muraki shows Tsuzuki-san and Kurosaki-kun. I'm sure that he also didn't wish Kurosaki-kun harm; however, I don't think bringing him to the Meifu is a good idea."

"Agreed," Watari said. "But we should at least wait here to tell him. We owe him that much."

"Why don't I do that, while you bring them back to the Meifu and get started?" Tatsumi suggested. "From what you said, he probably won't be long."

"Good idea." Watari frowned at Hisoka. "I wonder if he'll wake up?" he said absently. "I'm not sure I can haul both of them with me." He leaned over Hisoka and shook him lately. "Oi, Bon. Wake up."

Hisoka's eyes fluttered open and he groaned. "God . . . head hurts, lemme lone . . ."

Tatsumi rolled his eyes. "At least he hasn't lost his personality," he remarked dryly.

Hisoka half sat up, pressing one hand to his forehead. "What happened?" he asked.

"Close encounter with the demonic," Watari said nonchalantly. "Let's start with the basics. How do you feel?"

"Headachey, but . . . okay other than that."

"Still hearing voices?"

Hisoka smiled crookedly. "No more than usual." He realized with a sigh of relief that the demon's voice really was gone. The incessant buzzing that he had been hearing ever since waking up on the playground with no memory had stopped.

"And your memory?" Watari asked cheerfully. It looked like the spell had really gone to the wayside.

Hisoka shook his head. "It . . . it's still gone."

Watari's crow of triumph stopped before it passed his lips. "Really?"

Hisoka nodded. "Really."

"Oh," Watari managed. "But . . . the spell was released. Or at least I'm pretty sure it was, or else you'd be sick, or . . . uhm . . . something." He looked uncertainly at Tatsumi.

Tatsumi sighed and said quietly, "Just because the spell has been released, doesn't mean that the damage that was done can be undone."

Hisoka stared into his lap. "You mean my memory may be unrecoverable."

Tatsumi nodded. "But we don't know for certain. And if anyone can solve this, I'm sure it's Watari." He gifted Watari with a rare, thin smile. "So you three get back to the Meifu and get to work. I'll follow you shortly."

Watari stood, helping Hisoka get to his feet. Then he carefully lifted Tsuzuki up to cradle him in his arms, while Hisoka watched him anxiously, as if afraid that the slight movement could harm him. "All set?" Watari asked him, shifting slightly so carrying Tsuzuki was easier.

"Yeah," Hisoka said, and vanished.

Tatsumi put a hand on Watari's shoulder. "I'll leave Tsuzuki-san to you," he said.

Watari nodded, knowing that from Tatsumi, that implied greater trust than perhaps any other statement on earth. "I won't let you down."

~~~~