Hello to all of you who are still following this. Hugs to all of you who have posted your reviews. Here's the next bit - sorry it took a while!
Love and darkness
Part Fifteen – Prelude to a showdown
Chuckling, he glanced over his shoulder at Daisuke Seki, effectively distracting all the security personnel in the foyer by his convincing portrayal of a disorderly drunk. When the elevator doors met, he allowed himself to slump against the mirrored wall, fatigued and tense at the same time. Alone again, it was no longer necessary for him to maintain his façade of composure and nonchalance. Relieved that no security pass cards were required to activate the elevator, he punched the single floor button – level forty-nine. Moving to the rear glass wall, he gazed at the progressively shrinking city below, awash in the soft tangerine glow of the sun, peeking above the horizon. The elevator's rapid ascent rendered him slightly dizzy and he shook his head, grunting perfunctorily at the absurdity of the sensation – he, a Shinigami who possessed the power of soaring flight, feeling dizzy… Physically, he knew he was ready to drop from exhaustion; he hadn't had a decent rest since the onset of his mission of locating Kazutaka Muraki, but he rebelled against his need for a break. Deciding to cheat, he drew a boost of strength from his powerhouse within to sustain him.
Asato Tsuzuki's heart began pounding faster when the hushed humming sound of the elevator's mechanisms ceased. He stepped into the small private foyer as the doors sighed closed behind him. The milk-white carpet yielding to the tread of his shoes felt luxuriously soft and thick as he advanced towards the white, two-leaved doors. He paused at the white wood and glass side-table, flanked by a pair of armless, leather-upholstered chairs, white, of course. He snorted, not derogatively, but with a fondness that surprised him, at all the white shades creating an overall pristine atmosphere. Reflected in the mirror above the side-table was his flushed face, untidy hair, the drooping, loosened knot of his tie. He looked down at his rumpled appearance; black trench coat direly in need of dry-cleaning, worn, scuffed black shoes and cringed, feeling sorely out of place among the elegant, expensive furnishings. The fragrance of rich crimson roses clustered in a celadon vase washed through his nostrils. Drawn to them, he sank his nose among the velvety blooms, inhaling deeply…
'A million red roses…' your voice, above the roar of a chopper's rotor blades… looking down at me, standing on the deck of a luxury liner in distress, thanks to the incendiary explosives you'd rigged… before that, your body, heavy with the scent of roses, looming close… your breath against my face… your lips, almost… but, I'd rejected them, too furious at your latest escapades, raging at the thought of young Tsubaki Kakyoin, a bullet in her back, fired so coolly, so mercilessly from your gun…
Lifting his face from the embrace of the roses, he fingered a single petal…
Do you pause on your way out, or in… to smell these… has your nose touched these recently?
At the doors, which represented the entrance to the inner sanctum of the shrine of his lonely, one-sided love for the one who lived beyond them, he pressed his forehead and hands, palms and fingers against the wood, hearing the erratic beating of his heart, the whooshing sound of his rushing blood…
You're there… beyond these doors… I can detect your scent, even from here… why exactly am I here? Why am I in love with you? Who… am I in love with? Do I love the man, who grew into adulthood from the boy I met in that house of tears, hidden beneath layers of sorrow? Or, do I love the man I met in Nagasaki, the one I've known thus far, with all his madness and wickedness? Do I find a kindred spirit in the latter persona, with mysterious abilities and a rage profound enough to kill, a past littered with corpses of the innocent? Or, is it just… the sex…? Am I simply in lust with the man who gave me the best sex I've ever had?
His thoughts were suddenly drawn to his young partner, and the Shinigami acknowledged that his current muddled state was largely due to his fondness for the youth, whose affection and camaraderie he sincerely did not want to risk losing.
Rendered miserable by his confusion, his endless cross-examinations and quest to justify his infatuation with the man who was, at that very moment, not very far from where he stood, the Shinigami shook, attempting desperately to ignore the beginnings of sexual excitement, triggered by images of the ferocious, frantic sex he'd shared with the prepossessing man, recalling how he had, just before climaxing, been grateful, for the sex, and for the fact that the man thrusting pleasure into him was going to be his very own angel of death, finally bringing his guilt-ridden existence to an end.
Tsuzuki slid to the floor, wiping away an unexplainable presence of tears on his burning cheeks. As his breathing slowed and his erection faded, he heard muted strains of music…
Sharpening his sense of hearing, he pressed an ear to the smoothened wood.
Someone… is it you…? Playing a piano… ah, Debussy… Arabesque Number One… I love this piece…
Soothed, enchanted by the music, Tsuzuki indulged himself, allowing his subconscious to float away in his fantasies…
I want it to be love, not lust… I want my faceless dream lover to have a face, yours… just like it had been that morning…
He pictured himself in various scenarios of domestic bliss…
Kazutaka, playing the piano, glancing at him lovingly, puckering his mouth to smack a kiss at him… eating his dreadful cooking, declaring it all to be delicious, not because it was, but because he loved him… Kazutaka, undressing him… gliding those fine hands over his skin, his lips following in their wake, covering him with kisses… Kazutaka's voice, strained with sexual pleasure, thrusting into his mouth… swallowing Kazutaka's come, hearing his declarations of love…
When the strains of the piano finally faded, the Shinigami was horny again; his shaft, confined within his clothing, aching and pulsing for release. Crashing back down to reality, he cursed, chided himself, willing his erection away.
Foolish dreams, Asato… get it together, fool! Focus on your mission… you've sworn to destroy Kazutaka's demon… be prepared for that task… do you even know how you're going to tackle it? And, be prepared… for disappointment…
'Seems to me like he has a thing for the tall dark dish… blubberin', like a kid…'
I brought you back to awareness… and the first person you ran to was… him… you're still in love with him, aren't you…?
Of course you would be… together since childhood… 'Kazu'… and 'Orimi'… Orimi… that's what you called him when you both were kids…
… … …
"Whatcha got there, Kazu? Lemme see…"
"S'nothing… hey, give it back!"
"Ooeeh! It's a little dress…"
"I made it for my mother's new doll…"
"It's very pretty, Kazu-chan. I'm sure your mother will love it…"
"Orimi… don't you think it's a sissy thing for a boy to do? Making dresses for dolls?"
"Nah, I don't think so at all… you do it because you love your mother and want to make her happy because she's so sad all the time, don't you, Kazu-chan? There's nothing wrong with that at all…"
"You're the only one who wouldn't laugh at me…"
"I let you call me 'Orimi', don't I? It sounds like a girl's name, but I don't mind it at all."
"You're my best friend, my only friend, Orimi-chan…"
… … …
"There… all done. Let's put it in a small cage so it won't be able to move around too much…"
"Waah! That's a fine splint you've made… do you think it can fly again, Kazu-chan?"
"Sure it will… trust me… its wing will heal in no time…"
"You're so cool… I just know you're going to be a great doctor someday…"
… … …
These snippets, insights into the lives of young Kazutaka and Oriya, had been glimpsed during the Shinigami's telepathic sweeping of the house Oriya had sent him to…
You were right, Okasan…
Tsuzuki's mother had told him that places where people lived were special, because they retained the memories and emotions of their inhabitants, and that gifted people, seers, could discern these, and that some people were known to engage seers before moving into a house to learn if it had been a happy home and preferably not one that had gathered and absorbed too may sad emotions and memories.
Childhood friendship that had blossomed into love… a pair of star-crossed lovers…
It must have hurt you, Kazutaka… seeing your Oriya… and Watari… were you jealous?
As jealous as I am right now?
With an effort, the Shinigami endeavored to quash the burgeoning of fresh jealousy towards Oriya Mibu, the man who had captured the heart of Kazutaka Muraki. For however short their love affair had lasted, the fact painfully remained in Tsuzuki's heart that these two had at one time, shared a very close bond. He reminded himself, rather grudgingly, that he had no right at all to be jealous of their love that had formed before he had ever met them; and, who was he in the first place to even harbor a smidgen of jealousy just because he was smitten with the silver-haired beauty, even if he now wasn't quite sure as to what degree and in what sense this infatuation was?
Nevertheless, he was unconsciously pitting himself against his rival, the striking swordsman, lining up Oriya's attributes against his own. Tallying the results, he hung his head, silently declaring himself defeated by his imagined competitor. Even if he chose to disregard the length of time those two had been acquainted with each other, Oriya Mibu, with his wild, exotic beauty, stood in a league all his own, Tsuzuki conceded with humble honesty, ashamed of himself for having indulged in such childish behavior by assessing the man he had grown exceedingly fond of during his period of convalescence in Meifu.
Suddenly, the Shinigami's eyes bulged with apprehension.
Hold on a second! Why the hell am I wallowing about in self-pity for? What about… Watari?Judging from what Daisuke saw… those two…
'This will be my last act of revenge…'
Frown creases formed on his forehead as Tsuzuki experienced a fleeting frisson, a sense of foreboding.
What are you scheming, Kazutaka? Are you…? Am I right in deducing that you want Oriya back…? I can't let you do that, not while that asshole demon's still pulling your strings… I won't have you hurting him again… and you'd better not be planning to hurt Watari, either…
Shelving the troubles of his heart, considerably alarmed, he rose to his feet and faced the white doors. Opening his mind without caution, he sent telepathic tendrils into the rooms beyond them, attempting to seek out Kazutaka's thoughts. Ten seconds of nothing, and then… a maelstrom of sentiments, love, reverence, desire – horribly and twistedly erotic – and, linking and washing over all these was an element of malevolence, stifling, strangling, the sum total of it coalescing in massive doses that floored the Shinigami, leaving him floundering on the floor, gasping, struggling to slam his mental shields shut. Succeeding with an effort, his head throbbing with pain, he pulled himself unsteadily to his feet.
That… thing's in there! I'm sure of it! Now's my chance! No, wait… I sensed a vast amount of power in there… too much of it for me to handle… and two against one… no, Tatsumi will have my hide if I make it out of there alive… I'll just go in for a looksee… try to get a glimpse of that demon…
Still shaken from the telepathic overload of moments ago, Tsuzuki waited, regrouping his faculties until his breathing and heart rate slowed…
Meanwhile, Kazutaka Muraki stretched his naked form lazily on his bed, before sitting up and making his way to the bathroom. Pushing the door ajar, he looked over his shoulder at his master.
"Are you coming? I have something to tell you, beloved master."
The demon, which seemed to be dozing, roused itself and trailed after the nude man eagerly.
Steam from running warm water jetting from the shower nozzle rose to mingle with the entity's form as it watched Kazutaka's hands, applying cleansing gel, move over the length and breadth of his body.
"I envy you, not having to bother with showers… and other such ablutions…"
Kazutaka's laughter faded, ended in a sound of throat clearing when he saw the red eyes glowering dangerously, sensing for certain he had touched the demon's raw spot.
"What is it you wanted to tell me?"
"Ah… yes… I want… to give you something…" purred Kazutaka, deliberately drawing out his words, teasing his master, "a very special… gift… as a symbol… of my… love… for you."
"What might this 'something' be?"
Silver hair scattered droplets of water when Kazutaka shook his head briskly, reaching for a towel.
"I'm-not-gonna-tell-you," lilted Kazutaka melodically, in the manner of a child's taunt, "It's a… surprise… but I guarantee that you'll be… delighted with it."
"In that case, I'll look forward to receiving it."
"Believe me," Kazutaka husked, turning sultry eyes to the entity, "my… excitement will far exceed yours when I present it to you… Give me a week to… acquire it… and make other preparations… I want everything to be absolutely perfect… can you be patient… and wait for me to summon you?"
"As you wish, Kazutaka… I'll be waiting, and… anticipating… can't you at least give me a little hint as to…"
An expression of disapproval and a long, wagging finger silenced the demon as Kazutaka clicked his tongue.
"No, no! How impatient you are, master! No ruining the surprise! I myself must contain my glee… I can't wait to witness your delight… After you," he drawled, bowing to allow the dark, shapeless cloud to leave the bathroom before him.
Consumed by curiosity and excitement, the demon hovered behind the man pulling on a pair of skimpy swim trunks.
"Please, allow me to show you out, master."
Although he was in ghost form, Asato Tsuzuki instinctively flattened himself, his back against a wall of the lounge, increasing the masking of his presence when he heard the sound of a door opening and the approach of soft footfalls in one of the corridors, muffled by carpeting.
Gaping, he wasn't sure which of the two beings entering the room was the more heart stopping – the swirling black mist with several ghoulish red eyes, or, the scantily-clad body of Doctor Kazutaka Muraki.
From an aesthetic point of view, the latter won hands down, the sight of those long, pale legs weakening the Shinigami's knees. With a mental slap, he concentrated on the events unfolding before his eyes, venomous with cold hatred when they gazed at the cloud.
It's… a freakin' cloud, man! Oriya hadn't imagined it…
The Shinigami immediately feared two things: firstly, the difficulties and near impossibility of containing such a thing; secondly, that Daisuke's accent and manner of speech may have permanently rubbed off on him.
Near a window, the two, man and demon cloud, seemed to be bidding each other a silent farewell, Kazutaka smiling beguilingly, sighing when the mass of mist moved towards him, enveloping him.
What on earth is the matter with you, Kazutaka? Why are you unable to shake loose from the hold of that thing, even after knowing you were deceived? From what I've seen, you certainly aren't a pushover when it comes to one-on-ones with demons… I've seen you control a whole bagful of them… Or, are you so far gone that you see no way out? Have you resigned yourself to your fate? Hmmph, we'll see about that… just you wait, demon dung!
As Tsuzuki observed, the demon streamed out through the open window. He remained stockstill, waited for a full five minutes while Kazutaka froze in imitation of the Shinigami's stance. Beads of sweat oozed from Tsuzuki's forehead as the seconds ticked by, his sight pinned on the man at the window, marveling that he did not seem to feel or mind the cold air of late autumn wafting in through the open window, especially at this high up a level, and considering his current clothing, or rather, lack of it.
When he finally decided to move, the doctor turned his back to the window, brought his hand to his mouth and tapped his lips with his index finger, the broadening smile lengthening his lips. A short, grunt of mirth, a sound the Shinigami was so accustomed to hearing, swelled into full-blown laughter, became whines and wheezes as Kazutaka's glee-wracked body collapsed to lie prone on his belly on a couch. Although he offered a wonderful display of bare skin to the Shingami, the wild laughter unnerved him. Eventually, the sound wound down to a series of short, hiccupped chuckles with Kazutaka springing to his bare feet. He seemed to be caught in deep concentration as he swept his fingers through his hair, pushing the curtain of damp bangs from his face.
The trespassing Shinigami let out a gasp and his guard down along with it, immediately cursing himself silently when he saw Kazutaka's head cock to one side, frowning with darting, slitted eyes – two, normal, matching eyes!
He held his breath and waited for what seemed an eternity to him, shielding his thoughts and shock at the sight of that restored eye and cloaking his presence to maximum levels, while the doctor glanced slowly around the room in an attitude of sensing, his eyes still narrowed suspiciously. Tsuzuki's moment of alarm passed when the object of his scrutiny shrugged and bent to pick up a cigarette case and lighter from the coffee table.
The man, pacing and smoking, provided more eye delights, a pastime preferable to pondering about the things he had witnessed, lest the annoyingly perceptive and alert doctor picked up on his thoughts. Cigarette reduced to its butt, Kazutaka extinguished it in an ashtray and reached this time for the receiver of a cordless phone set on the low table. Seating himself on the couch once more, he placed his feet on the table, crooking his legs. He appeared to hesitate in placing his call, an expression of pain crossing his attractive face as he pressed his lips firmly together in a tight line. To Tsuzuki, it seemed as though the doctor was suppressing the act of bursting into tears, a sight that deeply saddened the Shinigami.
With an audible deep breath, and courage apparently summoned, he punched in the numbers on the handset…
"Yoshida…? Why are you answering… never mind… let me speak to him… don't give me any lies or excuses, Yoshida… I can damn well guess what state he's in… just put the phone to his ear, all right? Please…"
The voice Kazutaka spoke with was tremulous; his hand shook as he covered his eyes and waited, huffing with impatience…
"Orimi…?" A long sigh of relief hissed from the doctor's throat.
"Are you there? Can you hear me?"
"Yes, it's me…" His voice cracked on the word, 'me', tears coursed down his cheeks while his frame shook with silent sobs.
"I… I'm all right… and you…?"
Apart from that one time, in the church in Nagasaki, and the other, when tears had flowed from Kazutaka's sleeping eyes whilst he had been tied to the bed in his hotel room, two occasions he had seen him crying, plus this one – among all three, this Muraki currently in his sight, broken, in anguish, seemed heartbreakingly genuine. The grimace of grief and pain yanked at the Shinigami's heartstrings and unbidden tears welled and overflowed in sympathy for him.
"I can't make out what you're saying… Orimi… please, try to focus…"
Tsuzuki watched Kazutaka rocking back and forth, swiping at his wet cheeks.
"Are you going there… today…? I have to see you… I need you… please, my love…"
His tension rising, the Shinigami was torn into two – by his feelings for Kazutaka, and by his sense of duty. He cringed, dreading the thought of the coming days, and the unpleasant business they would surely bring…
"Listen carefully… don't let anyone, and I mean anyone, know where you're headed… I knew I could count on you… you're my best friend, Orimi…"
"All right… I'll meet you there… tomorrow morning, say… ten…? And, Orimi… I love you."
Oh no, oh no you don't, Muraki! Is this for real…? Or are you pulling a fast one on him…? I've got to alert Seiichiro…
The invisible form of the death guardian wilted. He'd fought against the jealousy of moments ago, came to terms with what Daisuke had witnessed and imparted to him, but when he heard that last, soft declaration, Tsuzuki couldn't pretend it didn't hurt him. Whether it was sincere or merely a lie to lure Oriya back to him, the flame crowning the torch of love the Shinigami carried for the brooding man seated on the couch still burned intensely, confirming that what he felt for him was indeed love. The power of that love buttressed his determination to obliterate the demon that had come between Muraki and Mibu, wreaking such havoc upon their lives, their love. He decided that even if Muraki's words were a ploy designed to sway Oriya, he would do all he could, with the aid of his comrades, to prevent Oriya from being hurt further.
Watching Kazutaka disappear into the kitchen, he toyed with the idea of breaking into his mind, but dismissed it immediately, remembering the doctor's mind reading abilities. He'd never given any serious thought before to Kazutaka's many extraordinary talents, but now, he sensed there was more, much more to the man than he ever believed possible – his regenerated eye, and his miraculous recovery of the horrific wound he's inflicted, were irrefutable attestations to his mysterious, supernatural attributes. The Shinigami concluded that any attempt on his part to impinge upon the mind of such a being would surely be detected.
Noises beyond the kitchen door indicated that Muraki was preparing his breakfast. Prior to spiriting out of the apartment, the guardian smelled toast and coffee…
His feet made contact with the sidewalk opposite the building, in front of which Daisuke paced, intent on his surveillance. Tsuzuki smiled at the young sweeper's commitment to his duties, his indefatigable energy and decided he'd have no problems with recommending his transfer to Meifu's Shinigami trainee unit.
After impatiently listening to the series of ringing tones, Tatsumi's voice crackled. "Sato?"
"Seiichi, get him to Meifu without delay! Muraki's planning to meet him tomorrow, although where is anybody's guess…"
The tense tone of the secretary's voice interrupting him was a clear indication of Tatsumi's mood. "Just when I got here, Lord Enma summoned me to impart his instructions and by the time I returned, it was too late; Oriya wasn't at Kokakuro… not only that, Yoshida is insisting he doesn't know where he's gone. Right now, I'm waiting for Taka to get here. Yoshida just might be a little more forthcoming with him…"
"Understood. I'll stay here and tail Muraki. We can't take any chances by letting these two meet up. And, Seiichi, I got a good look at that demon…"
Tsuzuki gave Tatsumi the details, describing all that he'd seen. "I don't like it one bit. Muraki's behaving strangely… can you reach the Chief, or better yet, Lord Enma, and tell him about the demon? I need to get his input… how on earth do we contain a thing like that?"
"Roger that. Good work! However, I can't stress it enough, be on your guard where Muraki's concerned. I suspect, not only from what we've seen so far, that he's not a run-of-the-mill mortal…"
"You too, Seiichi? I won't argue with you… get this, that false eye of his is gone! He now has two good eyes; plus there's no trace at all of that head wound…"
"There you go. Here's the plan: if Taka gets results with Yoshida, we'll head to where Oriya's gone. I'll leave Muraki to you. Our objective's to get them both to Meifu. It might prove difficult for you to call me once Muraki's on the move, but we'll most likely join up once these two make contact. If Oriya's man doesn't spill, I'll be depending on you to lead us to them. Call me or Taka once he arrives at his destination…"
"Got it. Mmm, Seiichi, just a thought, but you might want to get Soka to help… he could get into Yoshida's mind…"
"Good idea…"
"But don't bring Soka with you when you meet me…"
"I wasn't planning to…"
"Right. We're all set for now. See you soon."
"Don't do anything reckless, Sato…"
"I hear you, aniki."
Oriya Mibu's car pulled up at the drop-off bay of the departure terminal of Kyoto's airport. His chauffeur placed his overnighter beside his booted feet and bowed.
"When would you like me to pick you up, Mibu-sama?"
"I'll call Yoshida once I know."
"Very well, master. Have a safe trip."
Squatting, Oriya removed two packages from the side compartment of his bag and stood. He seemed unsteady on his feet upon rising, prompting his driver to rush forward to grab him.
"Mibu-sama, are you all right?"
"It's nothing, just a dizzy spell… it will pass," insisted Oriya. "Hiko, please convey my good wishes to your wife. Your first child is due any day now, right?"
"Why, yes master," replied Hiko, a little bashfully, but pleased by his employer's interest. "You must come to our home after the baby's born. My wife and I will be very happy if you shared our joy…" The chauffeur paused at his master's sad face.
"I thank you, Hiko… I would like nothing more than to do that… this… is for you, a small token of my appreciation to you for your loyal service to me…" Oriya smiled, and held out one of the parcels to his employee.
Flustered, Hiko waved his hands. "No, master, I cannot…"
"Please, Hiko… honor me by taking it."
In light of his master's soft entreaty, Hiko accepted the gift, bowing before the tall, suddenly distressed-looking man. "I thank you sincerely, Mibu-sama."
"Please give this one… to Yoshida…" The voice of the master of Kokakuro broke at the utterance of his servant's name.
Hiko looked into the gaze of cheerless brown eyes, the tears in them deeply unsettling him, tears that overflowed and were quickly swiped by a shaking hand. Silently, he took the second package.
"Master…?"
He fell silent, taken aback at the sight of his master, bowing to him. Before he could collect himself, Oriya swiftly bent to retrieve his traveling bag.
"Sayonara, Hiko-san."
"Sayo-"
But his master had already turned briskly and almost ran through the doors when they opened automatically.
Perplexed, the young chauffeur hugged both the parcels to his chest and impulsively dashed through the gap of the closing glass doors, only to spot his master, strap of his bag slung over his shoulder, disappearing through the doorway that led to the departure hall for passengers of private planes.
"Sayonara, Mibu-san," he whispered, baffled by the heaviness of his heart and by the presence of tears in his eyes.
Asato Tsuzuki, standing in the center of Kazutaka Muraki's living room, the sense of disquiet he'd experienced earlier deepening, listened for sounds that would reveal the doctor's present location.
Let's see what you're up to now, Kazutaka. A swim, I would guess, judging from your attire…
The Shinigami irritably ignored the subconscious voice that told him that he could very well continue his surveillance with Daisuke, instead of returning to Muraki's apartment, intent on obtaining a further dose of guilty pleasures. Sweeping his surroundings with his acute sense of hearing, he heard the sudden impinging of music, not from a single piano this time, but the sounds of choir voices blending harmoniously with those of a wide range of musical instruments.
"Exaudi orationem meam…" (1)
The opening strains of the opera filled his ears, while memories of the evening he first heard this very music in King Enma's study, encroached upon his thoughts…
… … …
"Come, Asato… this is my private domain. No need for formalities here…"
"I… you are still my sovereign, Sire…"
"That may be so, but I insist that you feel at complete ease. Come, sit here," the king's hand indicated the armchair opposite the one in which he was folded, before a fireplace, ablaze with flames.
He obeyed, only to the extent of adopting a perch on the chair instead of fully settling into the embrace of the warm, soft velvet.
Enma turned his eyes from the flames in the hearth, the leaping tongues of fire crackling and burning the kindling there casting scarlet highlights on the king's black hair, and an eerie crimson glow in his obsidian eyes. Meeting those eyes, Tsuzuki shivered involuntarily. Those eyes possessed the power to subjugate, and when Enma so desired, to instill deathly fear in all those who looked upon them, subordinates and souls of the departed alike.
At that point in time, Tsuzuki had arrived, just barely, at the stage where he could meet that gaze without visibly flinching and lowering his eyes. That evening, Enma had seemed to perceive the effect he roused from his subjects and had softened his expression, smiling affably, so that the Shinigami's heart had stopped racing.
Three days prior to receiving his king's invitation, Tsuzuki had taken his oath of office – to serve as a Shinigami in Meifu, the kingdom that held jurisdiction over the souls of mortal beings – after a five-year apprenticeship. On the day before, he had completed his first assignment as a reaper of souls.
Enma's smile was comforting, a salve to his burdened heart, and the Shinigami, desperately in need of the warmth and further comfort of another's touch, had warred with his urge to collapse on the floor by his sovereign's feet, a king who at that moment appeared as a loving father to him, lay his head on his knee and weep.
He gasped when Enma spoke, voice soft, inflected with kindness…
"Do just as you desire, Asato… cry as much as you want… and tell me all about it, when you are ready."
And so, Enma's gloved hand came to rest on his head while Tsuzuki proceeded to dampen Enma's trousered knee with his tears. Applying the king's offered handkerchief to his cheeks, he shakily recounted his first mission.
"It was… just as you said it would be, my lord… I… was drawn to it… to him… to his spirit… it pulled me… a lure, which I couldn't resist… it was like… my blood, my heart cried out for it… I loved it, but hated it… that feeling… when I finally possessed his soul, it was… almost… satisfying… I'm so ashamed, my lord…"
"This is what it means, and entails, to be a Shinigami, Asato. The instant you took your oath of duty, the dead became a magnet to you. As you have experienced, the pull is irresistible; you cannot fight it. The feelings you experienced did not originate from you, nor were they inherent in you, so there is nothing to be ashamed of. The dead are not your prey, even though it may seem that way to you… in the same way you are drawn to them because of what you chose to become, they cannot hide from you… they need you to guide them to where they should go, just as your being desires to find them. Becoming a Shinigami is not for just anyone or everyone… it's a heavy mantle indeed to wear, Asato. For this reason, apprenticeships can last for years…"
"I thought I was ready… I was so full of confidence… now, I just feel so foolish…"
Enma's fingers gently stroked mahogany strands on Tsuzuki's head. "You were ready. I wouldn't have permitted you to take that step had I deemed you were not. As with almost any undertaking, the theoretical training you received never really prepares you for the actual tasks. Don't be overly hard on yourself… you will do well, very well, and in time, it will become less unsettling, trust me…"
"I'm sorry for being so weak, crying like this…"
"You're not the first to react this way, and you won't be the last… I'll let you in on a little secret… promise me you won't tell…"
Nodding his head vigorously, Tsuzuki warmed to his sovereign's broad grin. "I promise."
"I'll hold you to that, Asato. If Seiichiro ever finds out I told you, I'm certain he would do me harm… that is, if I were anyone other than the king…" Enma paused to chuckle, his dark eyes twinkling, brimming with an affection that surprised the Shinigami. "Ah, he's a good man, and I'm very fond of him… I assure you I'm not laughing at his expense. You may be relieved to learn that he too had a dreadful time of it, after his first run as a Shinigami. The trouble was, he kept it to himself. As with you, I invited him here… oh, he had me fooled all right, all the way – told me everything was perfectly fine, smiled, laughed, said it had been a breeze. A week later, I called him to my office concerning a particularly troublesome case he had been assigned to – I won't go into the details of it, but I can say I didn't envy him at all – I was shocked at his appearance! He'd dropped almost half his weight…"
The guardian's jaw fell open. "You don't say!"
"I do say… he looked very poorly, and that's putting it mildly. His partner at the time – and this bore significance to his behavior – was Miyoko Kawamura; you're acquainted with her?"
"Mmm… yes, she's now at Psychics, right?"
"The very one. She took her oath at the same time Seiichiro had. Now, Miyoko is… a daunting woman, but a wonderful one, nonetheless… she possesses nerves of steel and suffered no difficulties whatsoever… poor Seiichiro! It was just his luck to be partnered with her.
"Determined to get him to confide in me, I invited him to dinner after I saw him in that dreadful state. My heart went out to him – he'd actually become anorexic! He toyed with his food, noticeably green in the face. To please me, the precious man swallowed a mouthful, gagged and bolted… straight to the washroom. Though near to collapse, he was taken aback to discover me waiting me outside the door. I couldn't very well leave him to make it back to the dining room alone, and I had been correct in my assumptions… he swayed, I caught him. Coming to, he was appalled to find he was sat upon my lap and struggled to get away, but… heh, I guess he forgot just whom he was up against… I held fast to him, effected a calming spell upon him, well… more like a truth spell, heh… and it all came out: the guilt, the shame, everything you felt, the self-condemnation…
"The most devastating reason for his misery was he didn't want to lose face… lose out in any way, for that matter, to Miyoko."
Enma grinned again, widely enough to display four dimples on his cheek, two on each one, and two rows of fine-looking teeth.
The Shinigami felt his heart expand, and for an instant, he forgot that the man at whose feet he sat – brawny of build, all solid sinewy muscle and iron-hard bone, with hair and short beard of the blackest shade of black, of severe but handsome visage, hard eyes extraordinarily softened to gentleness – was his king; a king whose hands and body were reputed to be icily cold, a coldness that stemmed from his heart, it was surreptitiously said, which radiated outwards into the air surrounding him, hence the reason he always wore gloves when in company, it was whispered, and always had a fire going in every room he settled in… Rumors fanned the belief that whoever ascended Meifu's throne acquired a heart and body of deathly coldness… The hearth in the Great Hall of Judgment, where he donned his voluminous black robes of office, was huge; sources from the gossip mills claimed it was King Enma XV who commissioned it to be installed there, for the reason that he did not want the souls of the departed to be troubled by the icy temperature of it when they appeared before him…
"Yes, the whole man-woman power play, dissensions of the great divide, which sex is stronger contest… Seiichiro's wretchedness was perfectly understandable, wouldn't you agree, Asato?"
"Definitely!"
Enma winked at the much-relieved looking reaper. "Heh… in the most recent survey conducted, the Shinigami girls trounced the boys, yet again, I'm afraid… for having the lower percentage of post-stress syndrome…"
"Huh? Hmm…"
"Now, don't hate me for saying this, Asato, but it appears the members of the fairer sex have an extraordinary aptitude for the profession of Reaper…"
Tsuzuki hoisted an eyebrow suspiciously at his king's gleeful smirk. "You seem very pleased about it, Sire…"
Enma slapped his knee heartily. "Hah hah! Do I? Well… the truth is, I dearly wish for the boys to win, for once, believe me… when they do manage to beat the girls, I intend to hold a special commemorative gala… it's been centuries since the girls have been toppled. The results of the last survey proved it to be a very closely fought contest, but the lovely ladies held on to their title… the delight you see on my face is there because I won several bets… made with your Chief and the Candle Count, among others… heh…"
"So that explains their foul moods of late…"
The Shinigami joined in his king's eruption of abandoned laughter, ending with both men wiping tears of mirth from their cheeks.
"Coming back to Seiichiro… after a period of treatment, he was put right as rain, raring to go, and as you know him now… in fact, it was he who came up with the suggestion for rookie reapers to have practical field training, and observe the veterans at their jobs, to better prepare them."
"Mmm, he's awesome! I have nothing but admiration for him and hope to be just like him… someday…"
"I told you that story to help you feel better… do you?"
"Very much so… thank you, my lord. You've helped me a great deal."
"I'm glad to hear it. Think you can handle a little sherry now? I didn't want to offer you any before now because of the state you were in. One's stomach can't withstand any alcohol when one is anxious…
"Tell me about the case itself. Did it present any difficulties?"
Tsuksuki stared into the pool of golden liquor in the glass he held. "None at all, milord. The subject, eighty when he passed on, was caught in a quandary. He…" the soul reaper paused to draw breath and exhale heavily, "couldn't let go… his wife was ailing; their only child had died young… he was upset, and bitter… couldn't leave her… alone… it was by her hospital bed, to where his spirit had flown and never left after his death… it was there he finally consented to take hold of my hands… thanking me for being so patient… I never left him either, couldn't… had to stay with him, wanted to protect him, comfort him… and… the feeling I felt for him… it was like…"
The Shinigami couldn't go on speaking.
Enma prodded, whispering, "Love?"
Tsuzuki nodded.
"That is how it should be. The soul you seek is like your lover, for whom you will desire to help, care for, protect, and love."
"I… understand so much more now, Sire… I'm not afraid of those feelings anymore."
"Excellent, my lad! Tell me about Fujiwara… how do you feel about being partnered with him?"
"He was very supportive and patient… he has such a gentle demeanor. I was rather nervous to be paired with him at first, because he has so much experience…"
"Learn all you can from him, while you can… did he mention his request for a transfer?"
"He did. He has a month to go before he joins the counseling division… I gathered he's really looking forward to it."
"Mmm…" Enma fingers fell into his habit of stroking his beard while he pondered, "Yasuteru Fujiwara will do very well as a Counselor… he possesses a quiet strength. His personality is perfectly suited for that profession…"
During their conversation, the music playing softly in the background had been this very opera…
"Sire, what… is this music?"
"Oh! I do apologize! Is it too morbidly mournful for you? I should have realized, and put on something a little more… what is it the mortals say…? Ah, 'upbeat'… forgive me…"
"No, milord! It's somehow soothing… sorrowful, but hauntingly beautiful…"
"Ah! I'm so glad you like it! It's one of my favorites, Mozart's 'Requiem in D minor'."
After they dined, Enma gave the CD to the Shinigami, insisting that he keep it, and Tsuzuki had grown to love it…
… … …
He turned his head, following the source of the music, casting his eyes on a stairwell situated in an alcove at the far wall of the room, deducing they led to the upper floor of the maisonette, and most likely to the pool…
"Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? Quem patronum rogaturus… cum vix justus sit securus?" (2)
On the landing at the top of the stairs, the music swelled as he stood in front of a steel-and-glass door. He diffused his form through it and found himself in a pool solarium, the length and breadth of it covering the area of the floor below. Overhead, he saw the sky through the glass-paneled ceiling, turned a beautiful shade of cerulean by the mid-morning sun, and pure white puffs of clouds appearing to creep at a lazy pace as the Earth spun on its axis, their wispy shapes altering. Comfortable warmth wrapped the Shinigami, warmth released by air-conditioning, numerous halogen light bulbs fixed on the ceiling, and the heated water of the pool itself.
Tsuzuki stared at the still, glassy water, given the illusion of blackness by the black marble tiles lining the walls and base of the pool, shifting his sight slowly to focus on the thing that hitherto moved in a corner of his peripheral – the solitary figure at the far end of the solarium.
The music, lilting voices of the choir, solemn, emotive, laid siege to his ears…
"Ingemisco, tamquam reus… culpa rubet vultus meus… (3)
He willed his body to rise, hovering with his feet three feet above the floor, to glide, thereby avoiding his footsteps being detected, closer to where Muraki limbered up for his dip.
Biceps, triceps and abs tensed and rippled. The wide girth of shoulders and chest tapering to slender waist, flaring, very slightly at hips…
As Tsuzuki swallowed and watched, arms swung as Kazutaka twisted his torso, displaying the suppleness of his form. Seized amethysts helplessly fell under the spell of the doctor's allure.
He licked his lips when he saw the tiny, sunken cavity of his navel, to be drawn inevitably to the swell of genitals underneath white cloth, as the man approached a diving board, intermittently giving all his splendid limbs a shake to loosen muscles. Mounting the board, the pale skin of his body glowing with the blush of his blood that rushed beneath it, Muraki covered the length of the narrow, gently bouncing board. Turning so that his back faced the water, he positioned his toes on the edge of the board, heels unsupported, and assumed a savior-on-the-cross stance. He froze in this position for a spell of several seconds…
"Preces meae non sunt dignae… cor contritum quasi cinis" (4)
Kazutaka's voice, intoning these words solemnly, stunned Tsuzuki. Lines from the Recordare and Confutatis stanzas of Requiem, he knew them intimately, having recited them like mantras, over and over, during the darkest moments of his torment.
For the observing Shinigami, time seemed to freeze to a halt as well, his eyes glued to the platinum hair of the head tilted to one side. He could not feel the beating of his heart, not hear his breathing. The man, still on the diving board, became blurred in his vision, to be gradually replaced by an image of Kazutaka, bound to a black cross, his skin punctured by numerous wounds from which gushed torrents of blood. At the foot of the cross, he saw himself, collapsed, face contorted with grief as the crucified man's blood drenched him. He heard another's cry of sorrow and looked up… on the other side of the cross, knelt Yutaka, his grief-twisted face uplifted… two figures were bound to the single cross! As Tsuzuki stared into the vision, his sight seemed to soar and glide to the other side, where the blond Shinigami wept… behind Kazutaka, hung Oriya, his blood dripping on to Yutaka…
When the disturbing vision faded, the room spun, dizzying Tsuzuki. He clamped his eyes shut and drew air quietly into his lungs.
What was that…?! I… must be more exhausted than I thought… my mind's playing tricks with me…
He opened his eyes in time to see Kazutaka's body tilt backwards and plunge to the water, displacing it with a loud splash. Sinking to the bottom of the pool, his feet kicked against the tiles. Ascending vertically to the surface he began a leisurely backstroke, propelling his body towards the far end of the sizeable pool. Upon reaching it, Kazutaka rolled, kicked and glided below the water's surface, a magnificent male nymph who had extricated the Shinigami's heart from its prison. Just like Ulysees, who had lashed himself to the mast of his ship to prevent himself from succumbing to the lure of the Sirens, Tsuzuki reigned in his monstrous urges and anchored his heart, securing it heroically, lest it leap, plunge and drown in the depths of his desire.
Cutting through the spray of water, sinewy arms and fleet feet powered Muraki's freestyle strokes. After several laps, the tall swimmer switched to butterfly strokes, which proved terribly titillating to Kazutaka's unseen observer, those powerful shoulders and arms working in tandem with a lean, undulating torso. The rhythmic appearances of a taut ass, barely covered by tight, wet spandex, were the high points of the doctor's athletic performance.
But the grand finale was yet to come…
After completing more backstroke laps, Kazutaka finally hauled himself effortlessly out of the water, padded to a table to grab a towel and proceeded to towel off. Wet swim trunks were peeled and kicked off. The desire Tsuzuki thought he had firmly shackled launched a full rebellion, emerging victorious. Purple orbs targeted glistening, silver curls, soft genitals, touched and moved by fingers, buffed dry…
Having had one too many fruitless erections, it proved too much for the sex-starved reaper of souls when Kazutaka placed a foot on a chair to dry the valley between the globes of his ass. Tsuzuki's hands flew to grip the spot where his distended shaft jerked and released…
Sufficiently recovered from his spontaneous release, the Shinigami beheld Kazutaka, stretched out on his back on a leveled deck chair, wriggling his toes. Silently swearing at himself, he spirited back to Daisuke, startling the young sweeper.
"Whoa!"
"Keep a close eye on things. I'll be back in half an hour."
Showered, clothes changed, he was back in front of the apartment building. "Take a break kid, I'll take over for you."
"Cool! I could use one. Thanks, man. Here… put this in your ear," the sweeper handed the reaper his receiver earpiece…
Before long, Daisuke reappeared, looking much more invigorated and suitably garbed for the nippy night air. The temperature dipped as the hours passed, prompting Tsuzuki to don leather gloves and turn up his coat collar. In front of him, Daisuke occupied himself by dancing, sliding his feet across the sidewalk, stopping his energetic shimmying occasionally to gawk at attractive women passing by, clutching at his heart and faking swoons. Amused by the young man's antics, the Shinigami chuckled, shaking his head, wishing he could be as carefree as the sweeper…
A lightening of the sky signaled the approach of sunrise. Daisuke was in the midst of a lengthy discourse of his life story, from which Tsuzuki learned the livewire youth came from a middle-class family, the middle child of three children born to his parents; he loved soccer, basketball – had been the captain of his high school's basketball team, was an avid fan of rock music and adored Hot Chilli Peppers, Kiss and Queen. His life had come to an abrupt end five years before when a bus had careened out of control, ploughing into a bus stop where he had been standing. He had been nineteen.
Tsuzuki had not been expecting it when the young man, with dyed blond hair straggling to his shoulders, raced into the details of the last day of his life. The guardian felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise as his body gave a sudden start, when the sweeper's words sank into him. He marveled that Daisuke's tone had not altered in any way – he sounded no different from when he had been ecstatically announcing to his stakeout partner earlier that his favorite basketball team had won the prefectural championship second year running – and that his expression and comportment hadn't lost any of their buoyancy.
"There I was, plugged in, totally into the groove, listenin' to Peppers' latest CD – my little sis gave it to me the day before, coz it was my birthday," the sweeper snapped his fingers, "wham, just like that, never knew what hit me."
Tsuzuki kept his eyes averted and head lowered, his thoughts wandering to the youthful, pensive face of Hisoka Kurosaki, and spoke without forethought.
"How… did you feel… about it… dying so young? Ah, gods! Daisuke, I'm sorry!"
"Hey, take it easy, man! I'm cool with it." Shrugging, the sweeper grinned, flashing his perfect teeth. "Never had any hang-ups about it; I'm the type who never lets much get me down, ya know?" Daisuke abruptly cocked his head, pressing a finger to the receiver at his ear, his other hand and fingers fashioned to resemble a gun pointed at Tsuzuki.
"You're on, man. Subject should be within our sights in a minute… red Porsche."
On full alert, the Shinigami squared his shoulders and pelted round the street corner where he could see the entrance/exit gap of the car park, hearing the shrill screeching of tires. The elegant bulk of gleaming, red metal came hurtling out of the ramp. At street level, Tsuzuki distinguished Muraki at the wheel, pausing for the obligatory right, left and right again, revving the engine, before swinging the car on to the road.
"Luck to ya, Tsuzuki," called the sweeper, who had shadowed him, as the Shinigami soared upwards to begin his pursuit.
Due to the early hour, the Porsche's progress was unhindered by Tokyo's rush hour and gridlocked traffic, and twenty minutes later, it was out of the city limits with its airborne escort, a very tense Shinigami.
Inside of three hours, Tsuzuki tailed the car as it turned on to the ramp to Arashiyama Prefecture, where the cone of the mountain of the same name loomed in the distance. Arriving at the town itself, it did not stop but continued moving for a further half an hour. When the red sports car turned into a minor road and then a car park where it finally came to a halt, his destination became clear to his invisible escort. As the doctor's long legs swung out of the car, Tsuzuki had a bird's eye view of a sprawling cemetery, dotted with a vast number and variety of headstones and grave adornments, crisscrossed by foot lanes. He watched the man stride briskly through the main gates. Keeping the moving platinum-haired head firmly in his sight, he contacted Tatsumi, who answered immediately.
"Where are you, Sato? Turns out Oriya's man really had no clue where he went…"
Tersely, he gave the secretary his location. "Get here now, Seiichi. It's almost ten, it's going down anytime now…"
He spotted, a hundred meters away, the familiar shape and the veil of trailing dark hair of Oriya Mibu, legs folded on the grassy ground…
Below him, the tails of Muraki's long charcoal overcoat swirled as he turned into the avenue lined by Weeping Willows. The man quickened his strides, having obviously caught sight of his former lover…
Fixing his jaw squarely, Tsuzuki's tension mounted. A rushing, a disturbance of the air on either side of him signaled the arrival of his comrades – Watari on his left, Tatsumi on his right – and he sighed with relief. Directing a nod of acknowledgment at the golden-haired man, he was troubled by his glum face. Turning to look at Tatsumi, he noted the expression of grim concentration. Within moments, Tsuzuki felt it: spiritual energy humming beneath the surface of the ground below them – Tatsumi was commanding his own shadow, forming it into a circle around Oriya, widening it in degrees. After completing his task, the secretary zipped in front of his comrades, indicating with hand gestures for them to follow him.
Dropping to the ground in their spirit forms, the trio huddled close behind a cluster of cedar trees. Watari tore his gaze away from his paramour, who turned his head and rose to his feet at Muraki's approach…
Tsuzuki rasped in barely audible whispers, "What's the plan, Seiichi?"
"I'll attempt to trap them within my shadow vortex and transport them to Meifu…"
The shadow manipulator hesitated, puffing out anxious breath. "If that fails, then I'll have to rely on… back-up…"
Tsuzuki narrowed his eyes, glancing at Yutaka; the blond's lack of surprise confirmed he had been pre-empted on 'plan B'.
"Back-up?"
Tatsumi nodded. "Urasawa… and two of his side-kicks…"
Disbelieving and wide violet eyes stared. "What?"
"I wasn't in favor of it, but we can't take any chances… Lord Enma insisted they accompany us."
"You mean they're already here?"
"Yes."
"But… I can't sense them… where are they?"
"Close. You won't sense them… it's their specialty… the so-called 'elites'… their abilities far surpass ours. In the event that Muraki breaches my shadow vacuum, Urasawa will take over," a shadow crossed Seiichiro's face, as though he found the thought distasteful.
Lowered lids obscured bright purple jewels as Tsuzuki squinted suspiciously at blue ones darkening behind glass. "What's wrong, Seiichi?"
"It's just… what I've heard from Konoe Senpai… the specials' commander is apparently quite ruthless… his methods of capture smack strongly of… lynching…"
Tsuzuki gasped while beside him, Yutaka sighed and lowered his head, his hair effectively shielding his face.
"If it comes to that, which I dearly hope it won't, give me your word you won't go ballistic, Sato… we have to get these two to Meifu, 'by any means necessary', those were our king's words."
"But what will Urasawa…"
"I honestly can't say anymore. I've never seen Urasawa in action. If what I've been told is true, I can say I do not approve of his methods. But if his intervention proves necessary, we'll have to accept it…"
"I can't promise you anything. If he, or the others hurt them in any way, I won't just stand by and watch," hissed Tsuzuki, darting a glance at Yutaka. The blond nodded with relief and gratitude; his expression gained sudden defiance when he swung his sight to Oriya and his companion, standing in front of a pair of grave markers.
"I'm with Sato. I won't tolerate any violence…"
"Look, both of you, don't force me to pull rank. If I fail, Urasawa has the mandate to take over, by order of King Enma. Getting them to Meifu takes precedence over… everything else!"
Seiichiro stiffened and lifted his hands to stop the pair of open-mouthed Shinigami from objecting further, staring down their angry glares into passive acquiescence. "Your fuda spells won't be effective – they aren't spirits. I'll do my best, I promise you." The secretary's stony face masked his rising uneasiness, a knot in the pit of his stomach…
If my suspicions are correct, that you, Muraki, are of true immortal descent… then I'll probably fail… as much as I detest the thought of Urasawa's assistance, I'll have no choice… and what Taka told me about Oriya and the goddess Sanae is cause for more worry…
Cutting off his stream of negative thoughts, Seiichiro turned his sight to Muraki and Mibu.
"Wait, Seiichi." Tsuzuki grabbed the secretary's arm. Under his fingers, Seiichi's bicep felt iron-hard and he knew that he was preparing himself, willing strength into his body, strength he would eventually expend on his shadow vortex.
"What is it now, Sato?" A patient smile curled the secretary's lips.
"Not yet, aniki… Oriya is…" Squinting ahead, the Shinigami frowned. "Nakatsu Mibu… and Okime Mibu… those are most likely the headstones of his parents' graves… allow him to at least finish paying his respects to his deceased loved ones, please." In his peripheral, he saw Yutaka's shoulders sag.
"Of course, Sato."
In place of a hug, Tsuzuki squeezed Seiichiro's arm, affection surging through him for the man who smiled at him with his deep blue eyes, feeling a rush of gratitude for all his kindnesses, his constancy, patience, care and warm friendship he had received from him over the years… and, a pang of remorse and pain for not having been able to accept and reciprocate in kind all that fiery passion, passion that was now laid to rest in the spacious, stalwart heart of Seiichiro Tatsumi.
As the three men observed, Oriya lowered himself to the ground once more, head bowed and hands joined in an attitude of prayer. Before long, Kazutaka Muraki folded himself close beside him, extracted two joss sticks from the packet that lay on the stones, lit them and placed them in the receptacle, where the two Oriya had lit earlier stood….
To be continued
Notes:
Translations from Latin:
(1) Exaudi orationem meam - Hear my prayer
(2) Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? Quem patronum rogaturus, cum vix justus sit securus? - What shall a wretch like me say? Who shall intercede for me, when the just ones need mercy?
(3) Ingemisco, tamquam reus, culpa rubet vultus meus - I moan as one who is guilty, owning my shame with a red face
(4) Preces meae non sunt dignae, cor contritum quasi cinis - my prayers are unworthy, my contrition is like ashes
Ulysees (Roman name of the Greek, Odysseus), hero of Homer's Odyssey: passing the island of the Sirens (sea-nymphs) who charmed mariners to leap into the sea, he secured himself to the mast of his ship to prevent himself from yielding to the spell of their singing.