Hi! I had not meant to take so long to post this, but I couldn't help it; it's been tough finding time to work on this. I had to rewrite this part several times until I was satisfied with it – my sincere apologies for the long wait.
Thanks again to all of you who are following this: Sueona, Morality, Princess Sin, Xelena, Chazmy, Jollyolly and Maudite – I really appreciate all of your feedback!
To Xelena and Chazmy: In answer to your question: who does our favorite Doctor love more – Oriya or Tsuzuki? --Well, in the context of my story, Muraki is, short of using the word 'insane', just not in his right mind. Pain and sorrow and his lust for revenge have distorted his mind. After he left Oriya when the demon told him about his mother's soul, his sanity went further downhill. Sadly, he is incapable of feeling love for another person anymore, but has been driven single-mindedly by his need to seek revenge. After recovering from his injuries, some of his memories return, and he remembers that he once loved Oriya; the demon used this to keep Oriya from trying to pull Muraki back to him, because Oriya's love seems to have a power over Muraki. When they were both younger, Muraki was deeply in love with his friend, but after the demon came back for him, Muraki slipped back into madness. All he is capable of feeling are hate and lust, these negative traits having been further augmented by the demon controlling him.
As for Tsuzuki: For me, the anime series presented no evidence of any love for him on Muraki's part – to me, it seemed like all he wanted was to eventually use Tsuzuki to exact his revenge and was prepared to make it seem as though he loved him. He certainly lusted after him, so I carried this state of affairs into my story. For now, all Muraki feels for Tsuzuki is lust. He enjoys teasing him and will not pass up any chance to bed him. He likes beautiful things, possessing them, and to him, Tsuzuki is just another beautiful doll to possess and play with.I hope this makes things clearer for you. We shall have to wait and see in future chapters whether Muraki gets delivered from the hold of the demon, whether he survives, and if he does, whether he will be able to fall in love again…
Chazmy, Sweetheart, I don't want Muraki to die either!Now, on to part 10. Hope you all enjoy! - TGO
"There is no forgiveness for one such as me! What did you do with my mortal body? Oh no, no! Oh gods, listen to me! Tell them not to bury it in the earth… no ground should be allowed to hold the vessel of my black soul! The earth around it will rot and turn irreversibly foul! Make it disappear! Cast a spell to ensure that it ceases to exist."
"The same must be done to my soul, for no fires of hell and no pure light of heaven can ever purify it! Destroy my soul and forever curse the name of Asato Tsuzuki!"
Love and darkness
Part 10
Asato Tsuzuki and Kazutaka Muraki: Awakenings
The gloved hand of the Celestial Emperor strokes the feathers of his pet falcon, perched on his left arm. The bird turns its hooded head at the sound of its master's deep voice, the round brown eyes in its head alert and focusing on the serene face.
"Are you ready, my friend?"
The ruler of the heavens raises his arm, sheathed in a gauntlet, and the falcon lifts off to soar and swoop towards a flock of birds. The emperor does not have to wait long for his bird's return. Flapping its wings and squealing, it hovers before its master, its prey trapped by one of its claws. A gentle hand removes the trembling creature and places it in the hands of his companion, the woman who stands next to him. While she speaks soothingly to the tiny bird, calming the racing of its heart, her consort praises his pet, offering it a piece of persimmon as its reward.
"What will you do with your present, my lady?"
His consort laughs. The sound of her laughter swells her husband's heart with love. "Since it's not a nightingale, I will let it go, my love." He watches her opening her hands to release the sparrow. "Fly free, little one."
"Perhaps next time, my friend here will bring you a nightingale that can sing for you."
"Perhaps, my lord." She offers her companion a warm smile, and the couple gazes into each other's eyes, reaffirming their love for each other.
A rushing of massive wings flapping close by interrupts their sojourn in the celestial plains and alarms the falcon.
The heavenly monarch grabs a hold of its tether to stop the frenzied flapping of its wings and settles it on his arm, petting and reassuring his pet. "There, there, it's only Nagi. He won't eat you, my friend." The royal couple of the heavens turn to see the Supreme Celestial Enforcer, coming to land in front of them, before dropping to one knee, bowing his head reverentially.
"What brings you here to frighten my falcon, Nagi?"
"Forgive me, my lord, but your son Isao asks to speak with you concerning an extremely urgent matter," answers the king's right-hand man in quiet, respectful tones.
A pall of sadness descends on the face of the Queen as she sees her husband turn away, seemingly unconcerned, to coo at the feathered creature on his arm and commencing to stroke its back. Sighing, she addresses the enforcer. "Thank you, Nagi. Leave us now."
Nagi bows his head once more as his gigantic wings unfold and lift, spreading to their full span. "Yes, my lady." He hesitates, and looks at the Empress. "My Queen, Sanae and Masato are with him, and beg his majesty to see him. The fate of Isao's…"
"Your queen gave you a directive to leave us, Nagi. Why are you still here?"
Recoiling from the harsh interruption, the king's chief enforcer stands abruptly to his feet to bow low before his sovereign. "Forgive me for my disobedience, my lord. I shall take my leave now. My lady," Nagi backs away, before ascending, his flight creating powerful currents of air that ruffle the feathers on the falcon's back and stir the silk garments of the heavenly couple.
The empress observes the form of Nagi becoming smaller, as he flies towards the glittering crystal spires and domes of the celestial palace among the layers of clouds in the distance. When he disappears from her sight, she approaches her spouse to place her hand on his arm. "Please, my lord. Why won't you see him? He is suffering deeply…"
Her husband lifts his hand, a frown of longsuffering etched on his face. "He brought it upon himself. In spite of all my warnings…"
"Yes, I know, my love. But… how can you continue to turn your back on him? Don't you care that I suffer with him? Ah! Would that you could be as kind to him, your own son, as you are to your falcon!"
"Hmmph. My falcon, I would have you know, has never disobeyed me!"
"My lord! I love you and will always love you. But do you love me as much? I truly doubt it, husband, when you seem not to care about how I feel. Was… was it so wrong for him to love? That was his sin, was it not, to have fallen in love?"
"Ah, here it is again. The old quarrel, dividing us…"
"Yes, it divides us, because you will not soften your heart towards Isao. You softened it for Masato, and your niece, and gave her your amulet for her child…"
"Don't you understand, my lady? I expected more from him, as you say, my own son! Hmmph, he has proved himself to be nothing more than a weak-willed…"
"My lord! He is my son too! Please do not insult him to my face! By insulting him, you insult me!"
The emperor spins to face his queen, his sky blue eyes flashing. At the sight of her tears, he relents, the frown lines on his face disappearing at once. Signaling to one of his attendants standing at a respectful distance away from the pair to approach him, he hands his falcon over to his servant's charge. Drawing his consort close to him to embrace her, he whispers, "Shhh, don't cry, my beloved. I am sorry for my words…"
"Please my lord," the empress' lavender eyes, misty with more tears, seek her husband's face, his tortured eyes, "I beg you to see him. You can't just go on pretending that nothing happened… please, my love…"
The king sighs raggedly, pulling his distressed wife into his arms once more, hands tenderly stroking her back. "As you wish, my love. Come, let us return to the palace."
In a small, cluttered office located in a building housing the Ministry of Hades' Tokyo liaison agents, also known as 'Earth Sweepers', Daisuke Seki raises his head to glance at the two Shinigami entering the room.
The harried young sweeper greets Tsuzuki and Kurosaki, his fingers still typing furiously on his keyboard. "Back so soon, you two?"
Hisoka nods curtly while Tsuzuki flops facedown on the worn couch. "Yep. Anything yet, Daisuke?" asks Hisoka, while filling two mugs with tea.
"Not yet, guys. And you, no luck either?"
The young Shinigami shakes his head, placing a filled mug on the table in front of the couch. "Nope. It's close to impossible to locate him with empathic powers in Tokyo. The city is just too populated; there's too much interference. He certainly chose the right place to hide out in."
A muffled grunt of frustration issues from the figure stretched out on the sofa. Tsuzuki turns his head, pinning a single eye on Daisuke. "Credit card transactions?"
"None yet… amazing, huh? Either this guy has lots of hard cash to spend, or he can conjure up money as well…"
"Very funny, Daisuke." Tsuzuki rises, shifts his position to a sprawl while pulling off his rumpled necktie.
Daisuke grins and shrugs, watching a tight-faced Tsuzuki flinging the tie to a corner of the couch. "I did manage to find out that before he nabbed you last year, he resigned from his position at Tokyo General."
The elder of the two Shinigami winces, embarrassed at learning that the sweeper has heard of his capture by Muraki the previous year. Resentful of the fact that Daisuke's colleagues are prone to casting curious glances in his direction, he scowls.
As if sensing the Shinigami's discomfiture, Daisuke smiles at him. "Don't worry about it, Tsuzuki-san. You mustn't mind how everyone reacts to you; you see, you're something of a celebrity around here," Daisuke pauses to chuckle at Tsuzuki's rolling eyes. "We sweepers are somewhat envious of you Shinigami; the work we do is dreadfully boring, compared to what you guys do. In fact, many sweepers are on the waiting list for transfers to the Shinigami Division," he states, shifting his glance to a seemingly disinterested Hisoka, slouched against a wall sipping his tea.
"Is that so?" asks the youth. "Are you among those on the waiting list, Daisuke?"
"You bet!"
Tsuzuki reaches for the mug on the table. "A word of advice, kid. Sometimes 'boring' is better than…"
A series of beeps from one of the computer consoles surrounding the agent cuts off the Shinigami's sentence as Daisuke spins around and propels his swivel chair to the monitor behind him. "Bingo, gentlemen! It looks like the good doctor has just used his credit card."
Tsuzuki is instantly on his feet, dashing to the sweeper's side. "Where?!"
"Hold ya horses, will ya, and quit breathing down my neck!" The agent's fingers move in a blur over the keys, bringing up a series of windows on the monitor.
"Come on, come on," breathes Tsuzuki through gritted teeth.
"Give me a sec, geez… okay, here it is."
Swiftly memorizing the location flashing on a map displayed on the monitor, Tsuzuki addresses his partner peering at the screen. "Wait here, Hisoka. Leave this to me. Your presence will only rankle Muraki…"
"But…"
"No buts," Tsuzuki's tone is serious, matching his expression. "Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Wait for me here; don't go back to the hotel room. If everything goes according to what I have planned, I'll need to use the room."
"Tsuzuki, what…?"
"Gotta go now, Hisoka," he reassures with a smile, his form becoming transparent, before fading completely.
"I'm sorry, sir." The young convenience store clerk bows. "I'm afraid you can't use your credit card for just a pack of cigarettes. There's a minimum amount requirement. Could you please pay with cash? The woman's cheeks redden as she hastily lowers her eyes, quavering from the steady scrutiny of her tall, handsome customer. "I'm sorry," she repeats, "the store manager…"
A graceful hand rises, the gesture accompanying the sensuous, deep voice. "It's quite alright, I understand, Miss." The clerk watches as hands delve into pockets, searching for money. Broad shoulders eventually shrug, and the young woman sees an apologetic smile, a silver eye twinkling, its color lightening and sparkling like a magical gemstone.
Kazutaka Muraki broadens his smile. No problem. Just a matter of affecting a simple spell…
The woman's eyes become glazed over, eyelids drooping. She begins to speak in a soft, whispering voice, "It's alright… I can make an exception…"
Something about her makes Kazutaka pause and he releases her mind.
Her voice, her words echo in his mind, "It's alright, it's alright…"
Time seems to stop for the man and the woman, as their eyes remain locked to each other's. A faint memory, and a sense of nostalgia washes through his mind: he glimpses a very young boy, sobbing, sitting on his haunches, grimacing from the pain of his skinned, bleeding knees… looking up to see her running towards him, calling to him, "It's alright, it's alright, come here, my Kazutaka…" Being held, pressed against her bosom, his nose buried in soft, sweet-smelling hair… her soothing voice quieting his sobs, "Shh, don't cry, my little angel…"
Kazutaka's natural eye blinks, shuts tightly, squeezing tears from it. His body quivers as he fights a desire to fall at the feet of the young clerk, pull her down for him to lay his head against her, to be rocked there in her arms, to weep there, while her hands stroke his hair, chasing away his sorrow…
His lips move, he hears his own words, "Don't leave me again, stay with me…"
The jingling of the bell on the door of the shop shakes the pair out of their reverie, both of their heads turning simultaneously towards the person standing in front of the counter, a middle-aged man with thinning, graying hair. Kazutaka hears the woman's voice, inflected with surprise. "Father? Why… have you come…?"
"Hello, Saiyuri. I was working late, so I thought I'd come by to pick you up. Your shift is finishing soon, right? We can walk home together." His affectionate smile lifts his cheeks, narrowing his eyes to slits.
"Ah, yes, okay, but… can you wait for me, I have a customer, and Aiko isn't here yet…"
"Oh, of course," Saiyuri's father turns to Kazutaka to bow. "Please excuse me for the interruption. I will wait for you outside, Saiyuri," he finishes with another smile at his daughter.
When the girl turns to look at her customer, she sees him wiping quickly at tears streaking his cheek and averts her eyes, her heart filled suddenly with compassion for him. "Sir, what was it you… ah, yes, cigarettes…"
"Please let me have a carton, Miss, and… that bottle of cognac… it's not my favorite brand, but, oh well, it will have to do," Kazutaka points at the locked liquor cabinet behind the girl. "No problems with using my card now, I trust?"
"Not at all, sir," answers Saiyuri cheerfully, as she unlocks the cabinet. After she hands the receipt and bagged purchases to him, she smiles and waves to her father, standing on the pavement outside the store window. Kazutaka's gaze flits from her to the man waving back at her. "My dear father thinks I'm still a child." The girl giggles. "It can be a little exasperating at times, the way he overprotects me," she says, without malice in her tone, her smile lighting up her dark brown eyes, a smile that makes Kazutaka's heart miss a beat, makes the ends of his lips curl upwards.
"He is right to worry about your safety; after all, there is a dangerous killer stalking the streets. The love of a parent is irreplaceable. Treasure it while you have it."
Something about this stranger before her melts Saiyuri's heart. The smile gracing his lips quickly vanishes as she stares at him, the dour, almost tragic expression marking his face when he first stood before her returning. "Yes, I will, sir. Thank you."
Kazutaka dips his head, his pale bangs falling boyishly over the face in Saiyuri's sight. "I wish you a pleasant evening. Goodnight, Miss."
"Goodnight, sir."
Kazutaka Muraki lingers on the pavement, reluctant to leave. He turns his head to glance at Saiyuri once more, watching her remove her striped apron, chatting animatedly with the young man who entered the shop after he made his exit. He doesn't know why, but he desperately wants to see her smile again, and in a moment, he is granted his wish. Closing the door of the store behind her, Saiyuri sees him standing there and smiles at him before stepping quickly on dainty feet towards her waiting father.
Walking beside her father, she turns to glance back at the white-clad figure, surprised to find him still standing outside the shop, watching them. Spontaneously, she waves at him and sees his arm rising to wave back at her.
"A regular customer, is he?"
"No, father. I've never seen him before… but…"
"But what, Saiyuri?"
"Well, it's quite strange, but I feel like I've met him before…"
Saiyuri's father chuckles. "He certainly looked very refined. Don't tell me you're…?"
The girl looks at her father's expectant, teasing expression and gasps, blushing. "Father! It… it isn't like that! After all, I'm very much in love with Toshiro… it was just that he seemed so sad, like… he lost someone he loved very much…" Saiyuri stops walking, turns her face upward to gaze at the night sky, an ache of wistfulness gripping her heart.
"Hmm, that's my daughter, always so compassionate…"
"He said something…"
"Yes?"
Saiyuri squeezes her father's arm. "Never mind… I haven't told you in a long time, father… I love you…"
His signature white clothes are glaring beacons, his long unbuttoned overcoat fluttering behind him as he walks, weaving his way slowly among the swiftly moving stream of pedestrians on the sidewalk.
The tails of his black trench coat flapping, Asato Tsuzuki swoops downwards, descending like a great bird of prey, unseen by mortal eyes. He glides above his quarry, his eyes honed in on the head of silvery hair. The Shinigami halts to hover when Kazutaka Muraki stops mid-stride to lean against a lamppost. The doctor remains there, still and slouching, for a span of five minutes. Tsuzuki, nerves wrung tight, grits his teeth.
Not the perfect place to nab him, too many people about. I'll just have to keep following him and wait for the right moment…
While he waits, he strengthens the spell cloaking his presence from Muraki and adjusts his binocular vision, zooming in on the doctor's face. The guardian is taken aback, surprised by what he sees.
What's this? He looks so sad, almost as if he's about to cry… just like he did when I first met him in that Nagasaki church… get it together, Tsuzuki! You were fooled then so don't be duped again! Who's to say he already knows I'm here and has something up his sleeve?
The Shinigami's emotions are in a state of flux, compassion welling in him for the man in his sight, warring with his grim determination of not being robbed of his chance of performing his task of subduing him long enough to breach the fortress founded on darkness, to reach the being trapped underneath the layers of rage, hatred and sorrow.
Judging from his demeanor, I doubt that bastard demon is within him… he seems so vulnerable, and… lost… a lost soul… No. Not if I have anything to say about it.
He watches a tremulous hand light a cigarette, placing them between lips to pull on it deeply. His conscience hurls questions at him, and for once in his before-and-afterlife, the guardian of death wishes he smoked too, as his agitation heightens -
So, why do you care so much about him?
It's what I do, I'm a Shinigami, I'm in the soul rescue business, and this guy's soul is in need of rescuing…
Yeah, okay, but you seem to be taking this particular case rather personally. You're deliberately disobeying orders – you should be alerting the Chief or Tatsumi right about now, and you're acting on your own, without a partner. You're gonna get your ass kicked. What's up, pal?
Nothing's up! I-I can't tell them, not yet. They wouldn't understand, they don't know what this guy's been through… he doesn't deserve to be sacrificed just like that, just to get rid of that nameless whatever bottom-dwelling scum! It's like being executed without a trial…
How do you know they won't understand? What makes you so sure about that? You've known them a long time; don't you have any trust in them at all?
Well, it's not that I don't trust them… it's the King of Hades… the king himself has spoken… Konoe and Tatsumi will have to follow orders too…
Oh, come on, the king has always been fair, hasn't he? Besides, he has something of a soft spot for you, just like a certain someone at the hall of candles…
Give me a break already! I just can't take any chances. I must have something to bargain with, in case they don't agree to let him off, give him a chance… I've got to reach him somehow… he has to want to break free, and then… just maybe… they'd agree to spare his life… no, I'll make them, I'll do anything it takes…
Ah, I see. And you still insist nothing's going on. Well, well, is it something… you don't want to face, perhaps?
I would do this for anyone…
That's true, I believe you… but you're ready to put your life on the line for this one… aren't you?
Yes. Yes, I am.
Hmm, you didn't even hesitate there. Just came right out with it, guns blazing and all…
Arrgh! I've got work to do!
Feeling the heat of his flush, Tsuzuki checks his pockets, making sure all the accoutrements he needs for the job ahead of him are all there, within easy reach. His pursuit begins again when Muraki stubs out his cigarette in the ash receptacle like an exemplary citizen and starts walking, his pace faster this time.
The emperor of heaven strides swiftly into his receiving hall and acknowledges the deep bows of Sanae and Masato. After gesturing to them to leave him alone with his son, the monarch turns to see Isao, his firstborn, on his knees, his head bowed low, supplicant hands joined above the crown of his head.
"Father, forgive your errant son who is unworthy of standing in your presence…"
The voice, quavering from misery and apprehension is cut short. Large hands grasp his arms to pull him up to stand and into the arms of his father.
"No, my son, it is I who must beg forgiveness from you," the emperor's hand strokes his son's head, a head covered by thick white hair.
Isao's heart swells with joy at being embraced by his father, a gesture he has long pined for, and tentatively moves his hands to hold his parent. "No, father, I deserved your judgment, I…"
"Isao, my beloved son, it is enough, more than enough, you have been suffering a great deal. Perhaps my judgment and punishment have been overly harsh, but I… we've been through all that, haven't we? Now is not the time to rake it all up, but time to turn our attentions to more pressing matters."
Isao leans into his father's embrace, giving way to tears. "Thank you, father… I fear greatly for him…"
The king sighs heavily. "He may have been born of a mortal woman, but he is yours… and therefore… mine…"
Father and son remain locked in their embrace, the king weeping tears of regret, the prince shedding tears of joy at being back in the grace of his father, his desperation momentarily allayed.
Odors of stale cigarette smoke, heady colognes, and the sharp scents of alcohol assault Asato Tsuzuki's nostrils. Having pursued Muraki into a dimly lit bar, the Shinigami sits, facing the doctor seated at the opposite curve of the elliptical bar counter. He watches Muraki throwing back his first, second, third glass of bourbon. The doctor's hands are still unsteady, contents of the bottle sloshing on to the counter as he pours it into his tumbler for the fourth time.
Something's very wrong… this is not the man I last encountered. I don't know what's up with you, but things couldn't be more right for me, Muraki… at least you're not out somewhere murdering some poor mortals… the more drunk you get, the better it will be for me.
Noting that the other patrons of the establishment are providently ensconced in booths or seated at tables situated in more shadowy areas of the pub, glinting amethysts observe as spectacles are removed and stashed into an inner jacket pocket, the long white coat is shed and slung carelessly over the paper bag perched on the stool next to Muraki. A cigarette is lit while the bartender cleans up the spilled liquor fastidiously, replacing the soaked coaster beneath Muraki's glass; an intimidating silver eye sends the barkeep scurrying away, returning to his other tasks, leaving the doctor to alternately raise his ever-replenished glass and cigarette to his lips.
Prepared to wait patiently while Muraki doggedly increases the level of his intoxication, the guardian's eyes roam leisurely, over hair of uncommon color, to defined cheekbones and jaw line, to throat, revealed as Tsuzuki gazes, by the doctor's increasingly sluggish movements, loosening his tie and unfastening the topmost button of his crisp white shirt. The Shinigami smirks.
I have to admit, you are one hell of a looker, in spite of your less than immaculate appearance. What are you anyway? Late thirties, early forties? Hmph, I never felt inclined to confirm your age because you were such a goddamned thorn in my side…
Tsuzuki stiffens when the object of his scrutiny stands to his feet, raking a hand through his hair, clearly displaying his artificial eye for some seconds before turning to walk away from the bar counter.
Restroom visit? Perfect!
After glancing at the bartender's head to confirm that the man is still squatting, busy arranging glasses on the shelves, Tsuzuki makes his way to the stool recently vacated by the doctor. Removing a minute vial from one of his pockets and twisting its cap open, the Shinigami tips its contents into Muraki's tumbler. He watches the powder dissolve, wincing.
Hate to do this to you, Muraki, but I don't think this concoction will hurt you much. I just need you to be a little more pliant and less inclined to be such a pain in the ass.
His heart rate increasing with each passing second, Tsuzuki slips back to his post to await the doctor's reappearance. He does not have long to wait. Muraki settles back on his seat, at once reaching for his drink to gulp it in one go, immediately refilling his glass. With another toss of his head, the bourbon slides down Muraki's throat.
Very good, Muraki. It won't be long now…
The arrestingly beautiful face in the Shinigami's sight is vacant, slack-jawed, eyelid drooping, head starting to loll, hands fumbling for his wallet. Tsuzuki watches the man dazedly signing the transaction slip, rising to sway and don his overcoat with difficulty, inserting an arm into the wrong sleeve on his first attempt. Lurching to the exit on unsteady legs, Muraki at last steps out of the bar, shadowed closely by Tsuzuki.
"Here I am, my lord."
At a signal from the king of heaven, Nagi rises, dipping his head to acknowledge the king's son, Isao.
"Nagi, you will accompany my son, and Masato to Hades. I don't think it would be wise to summon the king here – he's rather sensitive about interference in what is rightfully his sphere of authority. As such, it would be best if Isao delivers this letter for his consideration."
"But, father, what if he refuses…?"
"Isao, the king of hell is a reasonable man, an exemplary ruler. I have great respect for him, and I trust him. Asato Tsuzuki's case clearly demonstrated his fairness and compassion."
The monarch whispers in his son's ear. "Don't worry, my child, I will do everything I can to save him."
Checking his appearance in a mirror on his desk, Seiichiro Tatsumi fusses with the knot of his necktie.
Konoe rolls his eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Tatsumi! Let's get a move on already! I swear, sometimes you're worse than a woman…"
"My apologies, chief. It always pays to look one's best when appearing before the king, you know," interjects the secretary smoothly.
"Especially for a self-serving corporate ladder-climber such as you," mutters the chief under his breath.
"I beg your pardon, chief?"
Chief Konoe withers under Tatsumi's intense gaze. "Er… nothing. I was just… wondering what's taking that dessert-scoffing Shinigami and the kid so long…"
"Don't be too hard on them, chief, they're doing their best," soothes the secretary, an indulgent smile gracing his lips.
"Oh yeah? Well, try telling the king that, Tatsumi! I'm pretty sure we're gonna get toasted!"
In the long corridor leading to the king of the underworld's court, Tatsumi stops in his tracks, wincing and doubling over, covering his ears with his hands.
"What's the matter now, Tatsumi?" Konoe glares at his subordinate impatiently.
"Garrgh! Wha-what in hell is that? I-I feel sick, chief…"
"Pull yourself together, man! We'll be late! Besides, I'm counting on you to bail me out with that glib tongue of yours in case the king decides to get crotchety…"
"I-I'm sorry, sir, but… there's a booming sound… like bass drums in my head… it… it's awful, what's happening to me…?"
The frown lines on Konoe's face smoothen as he grasps the reason for Tatsumi's discomfort. "Ah. This would be your first time, Tatsumi. Probably, there are deities from heaven about," he states, glancing at the huge, black double doors, "and most likely, they're in the king's court. What you're hearing is the combined sound of their heartbeats, rather different from our king's, more… frightening, don't you think, Tatsumi?"
Smirking at the man slumped against the wall, his face a pale shade of green, for once incapable of speech, Konoe is secretly pleased, almost gleeful that something has managed to ruffle his infuriatingly imperturbable assistant. "You'll get used to it. Come on." The older man stalks ahead towards the entrance to the king's hall, greeting the pair of formidable-looking, black-clad sentries stationed there. Tatsumi straightens and struggles to catch up with his boss, gasping and mopping up the sweat on his forehead with his handkerchief.
An hour has passed since he laid his captive on the bed in his hotel room and sat back, listening to every whimper and whisper, soft cries of torment that stabbed at the Shinigami's heart.
Seated on a chair drawn close to the bed, Asato Tsuzuki watches the eyelid beneath a white eyebrow flutter. When a tear trickles across Muraki's temple, the tip of his finger catches it.
Staring at the glistening drop, while his own tears leak from his eyes, the angel of death whispers his vow: "I will not let you die before you have had a chance to weep tears of joy, at least once… I promise you this, Kazutaka Muraki."
He moves to the window, to stand and stare out of it, looking at nothing. His body shudders, his thoughts are churning, spinning, as a battle begins inside the Shinigami.
Something he has kept shackled, hidden deep within the dungeons of his soul, is threatening to break free, to run free, wild and roaring with the rage of a hungry beast that has been denied of what it so desperately needs to give and receive, to never rest, to relentlessly seek and claim what it desires – the one thing that can bury the pain and heal the Shinigami's wounds…
Why am I so afraid of it? Is it because… if I let it out, I could be hurt again, if he does not…? No! Can't lose control, not now! Focus! Don't release the beast… if it does not find its mate, I'll go mad…
Tsuzuki turns, looks over at the horizontal form of the doctor, at his shifting head, its pale visage turning to face the Shinigami. The powerful chest rises and falls, releasing soft sighs of sleeping breath. The exquisite face is in peaceful repose now; all the lines of distress etched on it earlier are gone. Impulsively, Tsuzuki moves to sit on the bed beside his prisoner.
Placing his face close to Muraki's, the Shinigami registers the rapid movement of the eyeball beneath the closed eyelid. He resists the temptation to penetrate the doctor's mind, to enter his dream with a tendril of his own mind, but gives in to his need to touch the strands of white and silver hair. A lock of it captured by his caressing fingers, he vividly remembers how soft this very same hair had felt against his cheek when he had found himself locked, caught in Muraki's arms on board the Queen Camellia.
A drawn-out, deep sigh soughs out between parted lips, rosy from drink, and another tear seeps from the closed eye.
"Kazutaka… how sorrowful your dream must be… ah, if only… do you know how hard I have fought… to suppress my feelings for you? Do you know how much I have wanted to make you mine? I… love you, yes… I love you! I can say it now, free all the love for you bound in my heart, I can't control it anymore… I'll find you, you, the true Kazutaka Muraki, waiting to be set free… dare I even hope that someday… you and I…"
Asato Tsuzuki leans down, bringing his lips within a hair's breadth of the doctor's, allowing the warm breath of the slumbering man to caress his lips, as he gazes at the flushed skin of Muraki's cheeks.
Looking at you like this, it's difficult to believe I'm looking at the face of a wanton killer.
A deep sorrow bears down on the guardian's heart. "How ironic… the awakening of my love for you will meet your awakening, yet to come… how I wish I could spare you from what lies ahead, from what you must face… but, I can't… you must meet it head on – your awakening to awareness, your awakening to true horror – more sorrow awaits you, Kazutaka, I… I should know. I've been there, to a place far worse than Hell. The weight of your guilt will come crashing down on you… there will be no place to run, no where to hide… but you must face it, you must bear it, because in facing it you will take accountability for your sins, paving the way for you to be filled with the desire to be penitent, and eventually, if you can, to forgive yourself…"
Hot tears roll down Tsuzuki's cheeks as his consciousness revisits a chapter of his past –
"No! Get out! Keep away! Don't come near me! Don't touch me, don't soil your hands on me. I am filth, corrupt and monstrous!
"There is no forgiveness for one such as me! What did you do with my mortal body? Oh no, no! Oh gods, listen to me! Tell them not to bury it in the earth; no ground should be allowed to hold the vessel of my black soul! The earth around it will rot and turn irreversibly foul! Make it disappear, cast a spell to ensure that it ceases to exist.
"The same must be done to my soul, for no fires of hell and no pure light of heaven can ever purify it! Destroy my soul and forever curse the name of Asato Tsuzuki! Ah, do it now, please! I beg you! Give me oblivion… ah gods, I can still see their faces… I can still hear their cries of agony… give me oblivion… oblivion…
"Nowhere for me to run, nowhere for me to hide, ah, I cannot bear it…!"
A sob chokes the Shinigami's throat as he sees himself, cowering in his gray cotton robe, yelling himself hoarse. He remembers being told that he had kept it up for almost a year, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. Voiceless, his mouth still moved as his silent, bitter screams of self-condemnation issued from his throat. In desperation, his Keeper, Counselor and Advocate had appealed to the King of Hades for help…
Tsuzuki gasps reflexively at the silver eye cracking open, widening, staring at him, its gaze then darting around the room. He moves away quickly, wiping the tears from his face, and settles back in his chair.
The doctor's body stirs, attempts to rise, but cannot, due to the restraints around his wrists and ankles, tethering his limbs, without undue discomfort, to the bedposts. Chuckling half-heartedly, Muraki slurs, "Shuzhuki-san? Hargh! You didun havta go to this length… heh, if you wanted me so badly, you only had to shay sho, I woulduv said yesh." The groggy man's giggles sound scratchy and hoarse. "Didun know an angel of death could be… fond… of thish short of thing, but, I would be happy to be of service to you," the doctor's dry chuckle swells to full-blown laughter, only to end in a coughing fit.
Tsuzuki suppresses the smile threatening to quirk his lips while he pours water into a glass from a pitcher. Settling himself beside Muraki to support his head, he brings the glass close to the doctor's mouth. "Here, drink this." Muraki swallows the cool water thirstily, some of the liquid dribbling from the corners of his lips. The Shinigami's gentle hand dabs the doctor's lips and chin with his handkerchief, keeping his face impassive as he returns to his chair.
"Thank you. Hmm, judging from the expression on your face, I don't think I'm going to get laid… So, Tsuzuki-san, would you care to tell me why you have me all trussed up like this…? Ugh… these ropes aside, I can barely move… ah, you've given me a muscle relaxant, right? Smart move, Shinigami! And, I see you're not taking any chances either, hence these particular restraints. Clever!" Muraki grins maliciously and squints at the blue rope binding his left wrist. "Hah! Not just any old rope this… I can tell you know," he rasps, quirking his eyebrow. "Hate to disappoint you, sweet lover, but I could cut them with my powers if I wanted to, but, I just can't be bothered… or maybe I'm just hoping you'll change your mind and… well, you just might feel inclined to do something about my hard-on… Ow! Being tied up like this by you is terribly stimulating, ahhhh…" the doctor's eye closes, he hisses, his body writhes, giving into the sensations of arousal coursing through his body. "I'll go along with it, I promise I won't break the ropes, I'll let you have full control… ahhhh, please… what do you say? Strip for me, I want to see you naked, come on, you can do anything you want to me…" A red tongue slides slowly over lips, lips pouting with lust.
The man on the chair remains silent, face inscrutable, a crease between his dark eyebrows, eyes refusing to move from his captive's face to the man's groin, where Muraki's erection tents his trousers. Finished with his teasing, the doctor turns his eye on his captor. "Tsk! You're no fun at all! If you don't want to fuck me, then what the hell do you want?"
"I want to talk to you, Muraki."
"Huh?" A sound of disbelief extends to helpless giggling. "Talk? What about, Shinigami? Let's see now, what could we possibly talk about? Are you serious?"
Muraki's strident laughter reverberates through the narrow space of the hotel room. When
his amusement is spent, he turns his face to Tsuzuki's, the heat of lust blazing in the molten silver of his iris. "Tell you what, how about you fuck me, deep and hard, both ways, then you can talk all you want…" Muraki loses himself in his desires, squirming and panting wantonly, and does not see the Shinigami retrieve something from his pocket.
"Muraki."
"What? What is it, Shinigami? What's your answer? No fuck, no talk…"
"Do you remember this, Muraki?" Tsuzuki pushes his hand close to the doctor, who turns his head to squint at the shiny object resting on the Shinigami's palm.
"Eh? What is that?"
"Look closely… remember, Muraki… who did this belong to?"
"How the hell should I know?"
"Here, let me help you remember." The Shinigami lifts the lid of the silver box, displaying its contents. As the doctor gapes, Tsuzuki uncovers the wisps of fine, white hair.
Muraki's head lifts; his silver eye blinks several times before widening in shock. "Mother…"
Tsuzuki sighs in response to his captor's single, whispered word. Now it can begin. The first step to reaching you…
The atmosphere in the room begins to alter, becoming charged with the same sorrow the Shinigami experienced in the house in Arashiyama, assaulting his senses. But this time, its intensity is significantly increased, horrifying, powerful enough to paralyze and knock him unconscious. Recoiling, Tsuzuki puts up his mental shields as the features on Muraki's face twist viciously, a feral growl rumbling in his throat. As the Shinigami gapes in horror, the binds around his limbs snap all at once catching him off guard. Before Tsuzuki can react, the doctor is up and lunging for him, hands lashing out for the Shinigami's neck. The chair topples over and Tsuzuki lands heavily on his back with Muraki's full weight on top of him. The fingers of the man pinned beneath the enraged doctor claw uselessly at the hands circling his neck, attempting to break Muraki's unyielding grip.
"Damn you! You… thwarted my plans, Shinigami! If not for what you did, I could have saved her!"
Tsuzuki splutters, gagging, the chokehold tightens; his fingernails scrabble and tear the skin on the doctor's hands, drawing blood. Paying no heed to his efforts, Muraki snarls.
"You… you are to blame for the loss of her soul! I'll make you pay… I'll throttle your immortal breath out of you! I'll crush you to your second death, your final death! Die! Die! Don't fool yourself into believing I can't do it!"
Tsuzuki's hands fall away, his arms flop to the floor. Making a great effort to speak, his words spew in hoarse, choked whispers. "Do it… if taking my life will give you any comfort, Muraki, you can have it… will it…? Will it put an end to your sorrow…? Answer… me… truthfully… will it?"
"Shut up! Shut up! Don't try and preach to me!"
"Listen… to me… Muraki… her soul is not… lost… I have proof… in my… jacket pocket… you… were deceived… by that…"
The pressure of the powerful hands increase around the guardian's neck. "You lie! You're lying to save yourself! You disgust me!"
On the verge of blacking out, the sight of Muraki's face – a mask of pure hatred - blurring, Tsuzuki curses himself.
Shit! I've screwed up… again… no… can't give in… he'll be lost… if I lose this fight… no choice now… I've… got… to use it… damn it all… I swore I'd never ever use it again… but… there's too much at stake…
Reaching with his mind to deep within the core of his being to unlock the power, the Herculean strength he fought so hard to forget he possesses, the Shinigami wills it to rampage through his body.
Straddling Tsuzuki, Muraki eyes widen in shock as his hands detect the surge of power coursing through the Shinigami's body. Without any warning, he is knocked off by a blow to the side of his head, sending him crashing against the wall. The guardian of death is instantly on his feet and reaching for the doctor's sprawled body. Pulling him up by the lapels of his jacket, intense self-loathing sickens Tsuzuki at the sight of the gash on the left side of Muraki's face and head, at the blood pouring from it, soaking his collars, but he fights it and summons his courage to continue as the eye of the stunned man finds him.
"Damn you," sputters the bleeding man, before his fist smashes into Tsuzuki's face, whipping his head backwards cruelly to the sickening sound of bones splintering. The Shinigami stands his ground, hands grabbing Muraki's neck. His hair is caught and yanked, a vicious head-butt bashing against Tsuzuki's forehead, again cracking bone, sends him slamming against the wall, finally separating the pair of bloodied Titans.
Muraki, teeth flashing, his hands out like claws, poised to launch himself at the Shinigami, is stopped by his soft voice. "We can keep this up all night if you want, Muraki, or, you can read this."
Ignoring the excruciating pain and the throb in his head, Tsuzuki, blood gushing from his nostrils, removes a folded sheet of paper from an inner jacket pocket and holds it in front of him. "I checked the records. She was reincarnated, twenty years ago, Muraki… your mother… she's right here in Tokyo… she's a college student… it's all here, see for yourself… whatever I may be, Muraki, I'm not a liar… I know you're afraid, I understand it all too well, Muraki. You're afraid of the truth… you've lived in sorrow, believing her soul was lost, you've lived in darkness for so long it's all you know… you were seduced, deceived, used, by that despicable demon."
Approaching the still form of Kazutaka Muraki, the blood on his pale hair glistening, rooted to where he stands, the Shinigami reaches for his hand and places the document in it, sees it tremble as fingers and thumb curl around the edge of it. He watches the man, staring at the floor, swallowing, jaw muscles working.
"What… what is her name?"
Tsuzuki starts at the quiet voice; it is strangely subdued, almost unrecognizable, the timbre of it lacks the callous, sardonic quality he has grown so accustomed to hearing.
There you are, Kazutaka Muraki. I've found you.
Raising his eyes to Muraki's face, cringing at the injury he inflicted upon the face he loves, he hesitates, heartsick, all too aware of what awaits the man before him.
"Saiyuri… Saiyuri Tanaka." At the Shinigami's whispered answer, the doctor lets out a long, ragged sigh.
Asato Tsuzuki, wiping some of the blood on his face on his sleeve, bends to pick up the silver box on the floor by the bed. Returning to Muraki's side, he hands it to him, his eyes meeting the glazed, single eye. The doctor pockets the box and re-folded document silently and straightens.
The bewildered face, childlike in its expression, breaks the Shinigami's heart and his hand twitches, aching to touch; he restrains the arms that yearn to embrace, comfort, protect. Finally liberated, his passion for the man standing so close to him floods through his being, heating his blood. His whisper breaks the silence. "Muraki…"
At the sound, Kazutaka Muraki flinches, snaps out of his daze and turns around abruptly, strides towards the door and leaves without a backward glance.
The angel of death, his clothes and face besmirched with his own and the doctor's blood, throws himself facedown on the bed, pressing his broken nose against the pillow that supported Muraki's head. Trace scents – cigarettes, aftershave and personal essence – left by the man who had lain against the sheet linger. Inhaling whiffs of the unique perfume, Asato Tsuzuki begins to sob uncontrollably. He does not feel the pain of his injuries, but moans from the ache in his heart.
To be continued
Author's notes:
'The beast' in Tsuzuki's heart: Because of his past sins, Tsuzuki has never really forgiven himself. He still thinks of himself as a monster, unworthy of ever being loved. He craves to be loved, to give love, but has denied himself as a form of self-punishment; so 'the beast' refers to the part of the Shinigami that so desperately needs to be loved.
Yay! At last, Tsuzuki is in love with Muraki! I worked so hard on their encounter in this part to make it heartrending – I hope I have succeeded.