Part Four, Chapter One

Oriya: In the arms of darkness

He has been dreaming: of falling into a pool of black, icy liquid; floundering, slowly suffocating as he struggles to rise to the surface. Being grabbed by shadows with skeletal claws and dragged back down into the murky depths. There, he kicks and flails to free himself from the red-eyed wraiths that have snared him.

"Don't be frightened, I'm here. This is my world. Be with me. I love you."

The whispering voice belongs to the one he loves, and he calms, stops his struggling, calling to his lover with his mind, fearful of opening his mouth and swallowing the black water.

I'm here, look, open your eyes." He obeys and sees his lover in front of him, beckoning with open arms. The shadowy creatures retreat, and he propels his body toward his beloved and is embraced, wrapped by strong arms. His lover showers kisses on his face and he is no longer afraid and confused. "Yes, this is where you belong, you are mine, forever."

He is being made love to, penetrated, and his pleasure intensifies. When his pleasure peaks, he cries out…

His own scream awakens him. He feels cold in spite of the glaring light of the midday sun bathing the gardens outside his room with warmth. Remembering the events of the previous night, he jolts upright on his bed, but a dizzy sensation causes him to lie back down on the pillows, closing his eyes to shut out the sight of the spinning room.

"Kazutaka…" he whispers, and feels a weight settling on the bed beside him. Turning his head slowly and opening his eyes, he sees his friend's face looming close. Not daring to believe what he is seeing, he reaches with a trembling hand to touch the dazzling form. His hand is grasped, turned and Kazutaka's lips kiss his palm tenderly. Those soft lips move to his wrist, stopping at the point where Oriya's pulse beats.

"Kazu! Last night… Are you hurt? I saw… you were so ill…!"

"Shhh… I'm perfectly fine, as you can see. You must have had a bad dream, Oriya. You look exhausted. How do you feel now?"

Oriya shakes his head, frowning. "I… I'm just… very tired…"

"Of course you are, and I'm the cause of it. You have been looking after me all this time with no thought to your own well-being. So it's my turn to look after you now."

Oriya's elation at seeing his friend, well and uninjured, is blunted by his confusion and disbelief.

This can't be happening. How can he be sitting here, whole… and so radiant! He looks so vital, and even more beautiful than before… I thought he was about to be destroyed… by those… things… what were they…?

"But, Kazu, last night, you were having terrible fits… I was holding you in my arms… something knocked me away from you… I saw…"

"Last night?" The features on Kazutaka's serene face shift, his pale eyebrows knitting with puzzlement. "Nothing happened. You must have dreamt all that." A seductive chuckle rumbles in his throat. "After you sang that beautiful song for me, you told me you were tired and wanted to retire to bed, don't you remember? In fact, you were so exhausted I assisted you to bed. My conscience pricks me, seeing you like this. I'll take care of you now, Oriya. Sleep a little while longer while I fix you something to eat."

Oriya starts to rise. "No, I'll be all right…"

He is stopped by powerful hands pushing him back on to the pillows, his words cut off by lips pressed full on his, tenderly lingering there. He cannot help it when his arms reach around Kazutaka's neck, pulling him closer. A hunger courses through him as he savors the taste of Kazu's lips, gliding his tongue along them. When Kazutaka's tongue slides into his mouth, he feels the heaviness of arousal in his groin. He hears his own sighs and moans as the tongue of the man he has so missed making love with dances with his own. Kicking at the bed covers to free his legs, he is aware for the first time since waking that he is completely naked. Oriya lifts his legs and locks them around the man above him. Kazutaka breaks their kiss, and again that sensuous laugh fills his ears.

"Not now, my love, wait a little while. You must rest while I bring food for you," Kazu pauses to nuzzle Oriya's neck, "and after that, I'll make you mine again."

Later, although Oriya is still confused, a part of his mind questioning everything Kazu has told him, his denial of anything out of the ordinary having happened the night before, he succumbs once again to the charms of his friend, who insists on feeding him soup.

Kazutaka laughs at Oriya's embarrassment and his red cheeks, as he spoons soup into his mouth. Between mouthfuls, the dark-haired man keeps insisting that he can eat by himself.

"Tsk, tsk, Oriya! There's no need for you to be embarrassed, although I must say you look ravishing when you blush like that. Indulge me, will you? After all, I'm only repaying your kindnesses, for all those days and nights when you so tenderly fed me and cared for me. Here, try some of this fish."

Kazutaka's radiant face and delighted smile bewitch Oriya. The latter's lingering doubts are quashed as he is lulled by kisses on his lips after he has consumed everything on the platter.

"It is as though I have awakened from a long sleep, my love," whispers Kazutaka as he embraces Oriya. "This is how it was supposed to have been, the both of us together, belonging to each other, wasn't it?"

Oriya looks deep into his friend's natural eye and finds it alight with adoration. Happiness washes through him as he slumps, limp as a rag doll against Kazutaka. He does not object when he finds himself being lifted off the bed and carried out of the bedroom, Kazutaka bearing his weight effortlessly, as if he weighed nothing at all…

He is drowsy, lolling blissfully in a tub of warm, fragrant water. Cracking his eyes open, he sees the nude form of Kazutaka stepping in and sliding himself into the water beside him. Astonished, he opens his mouth to speak, to form words to his question, but Kazutaka's hands, gliding over his skin, washing him with a cloth, vanquish his efforts. Oriya runs his fingers over Kazutaka's belly, seeking to confirm what his eyes behold – for the man in front of him is completely free of scars! The livid, jagged wound on the left side of his torso is gone, as are the marks left by the burns.

"Yes, I am completely healed. I grew tired of feeling so debilitated, and I found myself strong enough to work a healing spell last night, while you slept. I'm whole again, all for you, perfect again for you. Do you love me, Oriya? Do you want me?"

Oriya gasps, finding his voice at last. "Yes, I love you… yes… yes, I want you…"

Although his eyes are open, he sees nothing, only white-hot light, when he is laid upon the bed, panting with raging lust. His body, all its nerves wound tight, writhes and responds to every caress, kiss and bite with hisses and moans, and finally becomes the eager receptacle of Kazutaka's need, every thrust filling him with ecstasy…

Part Four, Chapter Two

Yutaka Watari: Caught in a web of desire

Upon entering the front entrance of Kokakuro, Tsuzuki and Watari find themselves having to join a queue of people waiting for tables for lunch. Having arrived in Kyoto via the immortal teleportation method directly in the near vicinity of Oriya's place of business shortly after noon and making the short walk there on foot, the pair of Shinigami decide to dine, their decision dictated by their complaining stomachs.

"Judging from the number of people waiting to get in, the cuisine here must be good," remarks Watari to his companion.

Tsuzuki balks, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. "I can't say that I care whether it's good or not, since I'm so famished. Missing breakfast doesn't do any good to my disposition, I can tell you." The Shinigami reads the sign on the wall indicating the opening hours of the restaurant-cum-'house of pleasure'. "This place opens six days a week for lunch, closes at three and opens again at six in the evening for dinner, and, as you've mentioned, there's the clandestine 'night entertainment services' for the rich and powerful. This Oriya fellow must be very wealthy indeed," adds Tsuzuki in a low voice. "We'll ask to speak to the master of the house after we've had lunch. Say, Watari, you've met this guy before. Do you think he's going to cooperate and tell us where Muraki is?"

Watari appears to be considering, eyes downcast, before he replies. "Well, it's hard to say… he definitely displayed loyalties to Muraki… It occurred to me that the whole episode of the duel thing between him and Hisoka was just a time-stalling ploy. How did he come to have the cardkey to Muraki's basement vault? Muraki must have known that we would be hot on his trail, gave Oriya the card, hoping to win some time to carry out his crazy exploits. Then again, I wonder why Muraki bothered to give Oriya the cardkey at all… if not for that, we wouldn't have been able to stop him at all… it's almost as if he wanted us to find him, but where that guy is concerned, who knows what his thoughts are… I… do remember though, that underneath the brave face Oriya wore that night, there was a pervading sense of desperation emanating from him, like a cry for help… well, we'll just have to wait and see what happens when we meet him."

After settling their check, Watari summons the cheerful waitress who has been attending to them, noticing that her sloe eyes linger somewhat longingly on his colleague, and asks to see Oriya.

The young woman smiles shyly, glancing at Tsuzuki again. "The master? I'm afraid he isn't here at the moment," she replies while collecting the dishes on their table.

The dark-haired Shinigami smiles kindly at her. "Do you happen to know when he will be back? We really need to speak with him."

Self-conscious now from Tsuzuki's keen gaze, his eyes holding hers, she answers tentatively, "I… I don't know, sir, but… I'll try to find out," before scurrying off with her laden tray.

A short while later, a middle-aged man with graying hair and alert dark eyes approaches their table and bows respectfully. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am Yoshida, assistant to Master Oriya. I have been informed that you wish to see him. My master is away and is expected back in a few days. Do you wish to leave your calling cards? I will get in touch with you when my master returns and agrees to meet you. Please understand that he is a very busy man, so most respectfully, I must inquire as to the purpose of your wanting to meet him."

"Ah, we're old school friends of your master, and we just wanted to pay him a surprise visit," Watari replies with a laugh. Shrugging, he continues. "But since he's not here, we'll just have to come by again, won't we, Tetsuo?"

"Yes, we'll drop in again towards the end of the week," replies Tsuzuki, playing along with his colleague's ruse. "Since we really wish to surprise him, we would appreciate it if you wouldn't mention our visit today," he adds amiably.

"Oh, of course, I understand, sirs. I'm sure Oriya-sama will be most happy to see his old school friends."

"Excellent! Thank you for your time, Yoshida-san." Tsuzuki rises and bows politely to the older man, with Watari following suit.

Reluctant to believe Yoshida's words as the truth and unwilling to make another unfruitful visit, Watari and Tsuzuki decide to keep watch at Kokakuro.

In the afternoon of the third day of their stakeout, Watari, in invisible form at his post across the street from the private back entrance, straightens up from his slouch against a fence-post as a sleek, black car pulls up. After the chauffeur opens the rear passenger door facing the curb, a head of dark brown hair followed by broad shoulders appears above the line of the car's hood. Watari swallows, his throat suddenly dry. When the car pulls away, his eyes sweep over the entire form of Oriya as he strides unhurriedly on long legs toward the entrance, his cascading hair ruffled by the breeze. The Shinigami's chest constricts as he watches the tall man, casually attired in dark trousers and pale blue shirt, the belt dividing the two garments emphasizing his slender waist. As he approaches the door, Yoshida appears, bows low and steps aside to allow his master to enter.

After Oriya disappears from his sight, Watari remains stock-still, his emotions churning, as he can no longer deny the truth of his feelings: he is attracted to the master of Kokakuro. His heart is pounding in his chest as he raises his hand to cover the top half of his face, mentally kicking himself.

Get a hold of yourself, Watari, you fool! You're a two hundred and seven year old immortal, for goodness sake, not some silly schoolboy with a crush! You're a Shinigami on a job, to boot! Job! Damn it!

Huffing, he fishes in his pocket for his phone, drops it and suppresses an oath while retrieving it from the pavement. Scowling, he frantically tries to recall which one of the numerical keys is the one-touch for Tsuzuki's phone. Seconds pass until he finally remembers, and hears his partner's voice on the line.

"Tsuzuki-san… he's here… right… stay there, I'm coming over." As he makes his way to the front entrance where Tsuzuki is waiting, the blond Shinigami manages to laugh at himself half-heartedly, attempting to talk himself into believing that he is merely experiencing a passing infatuation…

In Oriya's bedchamber, Yoshida is drying his master's hair with a towel, while the latter lounges on a chaise with the back of his neck resting on the top edge of the inclined back rest.

"I see. Describe them to me." Oriya's eyes are closed while he listens to his trusted servant.

"Do you know them, master?" asks Yoshida, while he runs a comb through the damp, dark hair.

After a moment's pause, Oriya murmurs, "Yes, I do. Please show them every courtesy when they come again."

"Of course, master."

Oriya uncurls his legs and stretches them languidly. His eyes fall on a framed photograph standing on his dresser, of himself and Kazutaka, taken the day the latter graduated from medical college. A sad, wistful smile plays on his lips; he recollects how happy they had been then, before everything went terribly wrong…

He raises his arms and stretches again, taking care not to shift his head and interrupt Yoshida at his hairdressing task, aware of little kinks and pains in his body – a result of all the lovemaking sessions with Kazutaka in the days just past. A spark of arousal ignites in his loins, his face heats as he remembers every pleasure-filled moment locked in his lover's arms. When his recollections cause him to become completely aroused, he forces himself to consider what his servant has told him, to distract himself from a need to provide relief for the swelled organ nudging his lower belly.

Bright violet eyes… no doubts as to who that one is… Glasses, long golden hair… yes, I remember that one… what could these Shinigami possibly want this time?

Yoshida exchanges his comb for a brush and applies it vigorously to his master's tresses, brushing the long dark hair until it shines.

That night, the pair of Shinigami returns to Kokakuro. After a brief wait in the entrance hall, a beaming Yoshida greets them.

"Ah, good evening, gentlemen. It is a pleasure to see you both again. My master will be performing tonight, so please allow me to show you to the auditorium. After the show, I will inform him you wish to see him."

Tsuzuki and Watari take their seats at the only vacant table in the rear part of the room, which is already packed. Guests who are not seated at tables are sitting on flat cushions near the small stage. Jars of sake are brought to their table, their cups swiftly filled.

Quietly stunned at learning that the master of the house will be performing, Watari drains his cup in one gulp.

I wonder what kind of performance it will be. A play, perhaps?

He glances around the filled auditorium and notes the air of excited expectancy rising from the audience, some of whom are glancing at their watches, a few ladies giggling coquettishly. His companion is blissfully occupied in sampling the various sweet delicacies on their table, his eyes glowing with childlike happiness as he swallows each mouthful.

When a hush descends upon the hall, both Shinigami turn their heads toward the stage and spot three figures stepping up onto the raised platform. Two women, one holding a shamisen, the other a shakuhachi, walk ahead of Oriya. The statuesque man folds himself gracefully at a koto as the pair of women positions themselves on the stage floor on either side of him.

For the next half hour or so, the audience is mesmerized as they are treated to four songs sung by Oriya, the end of each song greeted by their thunderous applause and loud cheers.

Throughout the recital, Watari's eyes are fixed on the elegant figure, resplendent in his traditional robes in various shades of blue, the brocaded outer robe and his hair gleaming beneath the lanterns lighting the stage. His powerful voice, soaring and dipping, fills the room and casts its entrancing spell on the blond. The hapless Shinigami is gripped by a sweet ache, a tension born of the initial twinges of love.

Tsuzuki is thoroughly enjoying himself, delighting in the rendition of the songs by Oriya's wondrous voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices his colleague rapidly draining several cups of the warmed sake. Amusement is replaced by puzzlement – he has never known Watari to drink so much alcohol, let alone the fact that he never drinks while on a mission. He leans over to whisper discreetly in the blond's ear, "You'd better ease up on the sake. I don't particularly relish the thought of having to carry you out of here, my friend," grinning cheekily. Wide amber eyes meet Tsuzuki's; Watari's complexion, already heated by his deepening passion for Oriya, turns a livid shade of red. He averts his eyes, obviously embarrassed, making Tsuzuki wish he hadn't teased him.

By the end of the recital, Yutaka Watari is madly in love. His heart thudding wildly, he watches as Oriya rises to his feet and bows in acknowledgment of his audience's accolades, smiling warmly before he slips behind a curtained doorway beside the stage.

As the last members of the audience file out of the room, Yoshida appears once more to request that they follow him. They are led to a secluded garden situated away from the business area of the buildings, the very same one where Watari met Oriya for the first time the previous year. Yoshida halts and turns to address them.

"My master is waiting for you there, just up ahead," he says, his outstretched arm indicating a thicket of shrubbery, before leaving them in the warmly lit garden.

Following the meandering pathway, both men discern coiling wisps of smoke ascending in the cool night air behind the bushes and plants, their nostrils detecting a faint odor of tobacco and cloves. Rounding the last bend, they finally sight Kokakuro's master seated upon a bench next to a small table. At their approach, he removes his pipe from between his lips and stands, the silk of his garments rustling.

Tsuzuki, walking toward Oriya ahead of his partner, notes the cool composure of the dark-haired man, his placid face, the welcoming smile curling his lips beguilingly. Seeing him up close for the first time, Tsuzuki is struck by the overall beauty of the man, the attractive oval face with its perfectly symmetrical features.

"Good evening, guardians of death," greets Oriya. "Welcome to Kokakuro," he continues, addressing Tsuzuki. "I have not met you, but I believe your companion has been here before," the tall man tilts his head, shifting his gaze from Tsuzuki's face to Watari's. The blond Shinigami, half-hidden behind Tsuzuki, steps into full view.

"The circumstances of our last visit did not permit me to introduce myself," Oriya's smile widens, "I am Oriya." He does not offer his hand, but bows.

Watari, although completely disarmed by Oriya's charms, collects himself to respond, bowing in return. "I… I am Yutaka Watari… and… this… this is Asato Tsuzuki."

Tsuzuki bows at Watari's introduction, a little fazed by intense eyes sweeping over him when he straightens.

After his slow scrutiny of the dark-haired guardian of death, Oriya half-turns and invites the pair to sit, a long-fingered hand gesturing at the table. "Please seat yourselves. To what do I owe the honor of your visit, sirs?" he queries, seating himself.

Tsuzuki glances at Watari, who remains silent with his eyes downcast. Oriya, eyes darting their glance from one to the other expectantly, resumes puffing on his ornate pipe.

Tsuzuki clears his throat. "We would like to know if you have seen Muraki recently."

Calmly plucking the pipe from his mouth, Oriya replies, "Muraki? No, I have not," his mouth releasing wisps of inhaled smoke as he speaks.

Tsuzuki makes a study of Oriya's face for some seconds before proceeding. "I see. Do you happen to know of his whereabouts?"

Oriya's rejoinder is immediate and succinct. "No, I don't." His eyes remain fixed on Tsuzuki's as he places his pipe on the table while shifting his posture to lift a leg over his other. Moving his hand to his face, he begins stroking the contour of his lower lip with the nail of his thumb, his half-lidded eyes with their dark lashes shading the hazel glow of his irises, patiently waiting for the next question.

All this while, Watari has been stealing surreptitious glimpses at the man who has captured his heart, only when Oriya's gaze is not directed at him, his eyes lingering greedily, longingly, on the beautiful fair-skinned face, its complexion calling to Watari's mind the most exquisite, fragile and thinly-textured porcelain.

Something shiny on Oriya's hand moving hypnotically beneath his lips attracts his attention and Watari notices the platinum ring on the curled finger, its surface gleaming when it catches the light. It reminds him of Muraki's hair…

That thought snaps him out of his lovesick stupor, his mental faculties beginning to function at full potency again as he shifts into Shinigami-on-the-job mode.

"Your loyalty to Muraki and your reticence in disclosing his whereabouts are totally understandable, Oriya-sama, since you are his close friend. However," Watari continues, his tone soft and unthreatening, "it is crucial that we find him, for his own sake. We have," Watari pauses, arching an eyebrow, "reason to believe that he may be in danger." Watari's amber irises hold the hazel eyes that have locked on to them. Oriya's hand stills and drops to the table. A dark eyebrow lifts.

"In danger? What do you mean by that?"

Although Oriya articulated the question calmly, his tone low and even, both Shinigami discern the infinitesimal sparks of apprehension that has flared in Oriya's eyes. Watari derives no satisfaction at all in seeing this and is torn between his feelings for the man and by his objective of obtaining information on Dr Muraki's whereabouts.

Tsuzuki, seeing that Oriya is nibbling on the bait set out by Watari, takes over, leaning forward and looking at Oriya keenly.

"We are not at liberty to go into details, but let me say this: if you do care about him, you must tell us where he is. Apart from what my partner has said, there is also the fact that we do not wish to see your friend resume his… unwholesome activities."

In spite of Tsuzuki's gentle and tactful prod, it is obvious to Watari that his colleague has succeeded in hitting a nerve, for the pale hand on the table is now clenched. Protectiveness wells up within him and Watari fights his desire to reach for that hand, grasp it, and tell the man with downcast eyes: 'Tell me, tell me everything, trust me, I can help you…'

He looks over at Tsuzuki while both men wait out the silence, giving Oriya time to mull over his thoughts. When Tsuzuki seems to be on the verge of speaking again, Watari signals to him with a quick shake of his head and narrowed eyes to desist. The seconds tick away while both Shinigami exchange glances. Finally, Oriya tosses his head.

"I have told you, I do not know where he is." Regaining his composure, he rises smoothly to his feet. "And now gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I have matters to attend to."

Tsuzuki clears his throat and stands. "Of course. We thank you for your time, Oriya-sama."

The combined effects of the sake and the ordeal of having been in such close proximity with Oriya are beginning to take their toll on Watari and he rises a little unsteadily. He goes no further than a couple of steps away from the table before tripping on the uneven cobblestone ground. Losing his balance, his body pitches forward and in the next instant, he finds himself enclosed by a pair of firm arms. He looks up dazedly, expecting to see Tsuzuki's face but, to his horror, he discerns kohl-lined hazel eyes, the expression in them slightly amused. He is paralyzed at discovering that his body is pressed up against Oriya's, thigh against thigh, one of his hands clutching the silk at Oriya's waist, his other resting on the warm bare skin between the V of his robe, at a spot where Watari feels the swell of Oriya's pectorals. The fragrance of the scented oil on lustrous dark hair assails his nostrils. He sees smooth lips, silky pads of pale coral close enough to kiss…

A rush of intense desire boils over inside him and he pushes, jerking himself awkwardly out of that unexpected embrace as if he has been scalded, only to have those strong hands reach for him again, gripping his upper arms to steady him. Unable to raise his head, his eyes focus on a pair of white, sandaled feet as he hears Oriya's voice, tinged with genuine concern.

"Whoa there, are you okay?"

Watari lifts a hand to straighten the askew glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and then to his hair to brush back his unruly tresses from his hot face, the last action more a gesture to soothe his ruffled dignity. To his untold relief, Oriya's hands release him and he is able to reply feebly, "Yes, I'm fine, thank you."

His voice sounds horribly squeaky to his ears and he wants nothing more than to dissipate into invisible form, and escape from his humiliation to a place where he can be alone, curl up and fall into a deep sleep of oblivion. He is exhausted; his nerves have been on edge since sighting Kokakuro's master earlier in the day, his emotions caught on an unending, punishing roller coaster ride. Having not experienced them for so long, he is bewildered and uncomfortable - the pangs of falling in love feel alien to him, he who departed from the mortal world so long ago.

Avoiding both Oriya's and Tsuzuki's eyes, Watari bows hastily and bids Oriya good night, before turning and picking his footsteps carefully along the cobblestone path.

End of part four

To be continued in Part Five,
Chapter One: Hisoka Kurosaki: Unraveling the mystery of Muraki
Chapter Two: Kazutaka Muraki: No way out – covenant with a demon

Author's notes:
A shamisen is a 3-stringed lute. A shakuhachi is a flute, made of bamboo.

In this installment, I may have placed particular emphasis on Oriya's looks. Yes, well, I may be biased because I love him, but I wanted to present him the way Watari sees him as he falls in love with him. Good excuse, ne? TGO