Love and darkness
Part 17
Fallout of an obsession

Asato Tsuzuki downed his second cup of coffee. His hand shook when he placed the empty cup on the saucer...

He had retreated to the cafeteria in Sweeper headquarters for some badly needed alone time to mull over his unhappy thoughts. After refilling his cup at the self-service stand, he ambled back to his table, relieved that he had the place pretty much to himself. Except for the service staff behind the food counters, no sweepers or other employees were present. He sipped from his cup and assumed a sprawl on his chair, stretching his legs and tilting his head back, the taste of weak coffee on his tongue, wishing he could nip out to the nearest bar and drown his frustration and misery with the aid of numerous glasses of Margueritas, to the point of being blissfully drunk, so that scenes of the operation of that morning would mercifully stop replaying over and over in his mind…

Tatsumi froze, staring with incredulity, and then dismay, at Muraki…

While Tsuzuki forgot to breathe, Watari lost it and roared; he charged ahead and leapt into the circle of shadows, landing on one knee in front of captor and hostage.

"Two."

"Call it off, Seiichi!"

A collected Muraki completely ignored the blond man, his eyes remaining fixed on an open-mouthed Tatsumi, his lips quirked in a charming smile, a glint in his eyes. "You'd best heed his suggestion, Tatsumi-san. After all, you wouldn't want him spattered with Oriya's blood when I blow his head off, now would you?"

His heart pounding crazily, Tsuzuki experienced a sense of déjà vu remembering his vision of Watari beneath a crucified Oriya…

The doctor's challenging taunt seemed to settle it for Tatsumi. At once, his shadow vortex fell away and vanished. Standing beside the heavily panting, seething secretary, a cold rage consumed Tsuzuki, directed at no one but himself, feeling utterly inadequate, cursing silently and suppressing his urge to launch himself at a smirking Muraki, unwilling to risk the loss of Oriya's life. He moved slowly towards him, holding out his hand…

"Give me the gun, Muraki… you can't seriously mean to shoot Oriya… please, give it to me… ngoof! What the…!"

The Shinigami's earnest attempt at negotiating was cut short when he felt himself being pushed by something, or someone. Losing his balance, he fell over sideways to the ground, hearing a noise… what sounded to him like the crack of a whip…

Muraki's gun was snatched from his grip and appeared to fly, zipping through the air. When it stopped in mid-air and disappeared, Oriya suddenly yelped. He was thrown backwards, his legs seemed to have been pulled out from under, his hands flew to his neck, scrabbling at something the Shinigami could not see at that point.

Tsuzuki scrambled to his feet, saw Watari lurch and fall over, the same way the former had been shoved aside. Oriya's body slid along the ground, dragged away from Muraki, who was next to go down. He made no sound when he fell headlong. Except for the rising and falling of his back, he lay still…

Fresh shock gripped Tatsumi and his men. Watari sprung to his feet and rushed over to Oriya, who was gasping for air…

Tsuzuki, hearing the strained, wheezing sounds of the prone men's breathing, sensed something snapping in his psyche; his self-control had begun to unravel at that juncture…

He broke free from Tatsumi's restraining grip and dashed to Muraki, his angry shriek piercing the air. He didn't make it to the doctor's side – once more, he fell, face hitting the ground, his lower legs caught and held two feet above ground.

"Get your men away from here, Tatsumi!"

They were visible now: the three specials, their weapons, and, the reason for Tsuzuki's ungainly tumble.

Muttering curses, the Shinigami picked himself up, glaring at the special closest to him, whom he intuitively assumed was Urasawa, the one who had shoved him; the man had such a commanding presence about him, overly slender and unexpectedly young, with short and neat dark auburn hair and steely gray eyes.

The specials commander held the grips of two whips, one in each hand, the cords of which were thin rather than thick; one of these, the end of which was now secured around Muraki's ankles, had tripped up Tsuzuki when he had charged towards the fallen doctor. The end of Urasawa's other whip was wound around Muraki's neck…

Watari, his mouth twisted ferociously, brought up his fisted hands, shouting at the heavy-set, tall special whose whips had caught Oriya.

"Can't you see he's choking, you bastard?"

The man's eyes flickered to his commander's as if the latter had called him. At once, the tall special flicked his wrist. The lash around Oriya's neck loosened without unraveling.

Kneeling beside the coughing captive, Watari cupped his face in his hands, whispering, "We did not want this to happen… these others, and what they've done… Oriya, come with me, please… we only want for you to be safe… come with me," he implored, while his eyes stayed fixed on Oriya's. But the eyes in that flushed face would not look at him. The world and everything in it seemed to fall away; the fair-haired reaper felt and saw nothing but an empty void close around him as he heard that beloved voice…

"Can't do that… my place is by his side… let me go, Yutaka… I'm so sorry… please… forgive me… get away from here, now… all of you… all hell's about to break loose… go, now…"

Straining to turn his head, Oriya's eyes locked on to Muraki's, and the blond Shinigami by his side saw the appeal in those beautiful eyes…

When they had joined themselves together, lain together, within those eyes, he had glimpsed a shared future, a promise, of bountiful love, given and received, enough for one lifetime – Oriya's lifetime in this world – and more, much more. But now, the eyes of this man, this very man who had groaned with pleasure when a part of his body had given him so much of the same, had nothing to give him any more. Now, everything in those eyes belonged only to Kazutaka Muraki…

Meanwhile at Muraki's side, Tsuzuki pleaded with the doctor.

"I'm sorry for all this, Muraki. I'm on your side, trust me, please. Let me help you. Come with us, both of you. Once we destroy that demon, you'll be free."

He saw Muraki's eyes roll to meet his gaze, heard his deep sigh, his cheerless chuckle.

"Wish it were all that simple…" The silver eyes, blooming with a pearly sheen, were filled with a sorrow that pierced the Shinigami's heart. "It almost seems satirical… hearing you apologize… but I know you mean it… in all the time I've known you, you've always been nothing but dead serious in everything you do and say… I should be the one to say sorry… how incongruous, how can mere words make a difference… make up for all… I'm sorry, for what I did to you… and to that boy, your young partner… tell him for me…"

Listening to the broken voice, a sickening suspicion of the doctor's intentions made the Shinigami gasp, mingling with his vision of the black cross, and his memories of his own despair, the black, crushing despair of a sinner, a sinner who fixated on only one goal…

"Don't you dare, Muraki! Tell him yourself, in person! You owe him that much, at least…"

"Wish I could turn back time… wish I had… thank you for your efforts, Asato Tsuzuki… it's too late for me…"

"No! It's not! What… do you intend to do? Why must you drag Oriya…?"

"You, and that one, the one who loves Oriya… and Tatsumi… you should all get as far away from here as possible…"

His panic rising, the Shinigami followed the doctor's shifting gaze to Oriya's imploring eyes and caught his silent reassurance: 'I won't hurt them, my love.'

"Muraki! Don't…!"

"Go! Get away from here!"

The cup in Tsuzuki's squeezing grip finally shattered, fragmenting along with all his hopes, the ache in his heart intensifying while he visualized what happened next…

The third special, advancing with a bundle of what appeared to be netting, which he cast open, spreading it like a fishing net…

Urasawa, yelling again, "Out of my way, Shinigami! And you over there," he spat, swinging his head to Watari, "move away from him! Damn you, Tatsumi! Can't you keep your men in line? They're in my way!"

The irate commander yanked on his whips. The flimsiness of their thin thongs were deceptive, as they dragged Muraki towards the spread net, Urasawa's subordinate doing the same, pulling Oriya…

Watari, a blur of flying overcoat and golden hair, a wild, snarling beast racing towards the burly special…

Tatsumi, a man torn between his rage at the specials' actions and his obligation to obey Enma's orders, hurtling past Tsuzuki and launching himself at Watari, both men toppling over to land in a heap on the ground, the blond expressing his sentiments at being thwarted in his efforts to pulverize the special with a string of expletives…

The sharp edge of a shard of the destroyed coffee cup cut into Tsuzuki's palm, drawing blood. He shook, ignoring the pain, drove the piece of porcelain deeper into his hand, shame and horror nauseating him at what he had almost done…

Willfully, he had released it… his sealed weapon… a nameless, formless instrument of death…

Turning his eyes, huge with malice, on Urasawa…

There, in that field of damp grass around which lay the silent bones and ashes of the dead, he had become, once more, a killing machine…

He was gathering it, that power within him, into invisible arrows that would shoot forth from the bow, which was his body…

Tsuzuki opened his hand and brought it, wet with his blood and coffee, to his face. Covering his mouth, he wept quietly, loath to drawing the attention of the canteen's staff, all of which had cast apprehensive glances at him when he'd crushed his cup.

Seiichiro's voice, breaking through the roar of a monster, his own unrecognizable cry…

"Stop, Sato! Don't do it!"

Coming back to himself, being caught in Tatsumi's arms, sucking his deadly power back into himself…

The secretary had thrown himself into the path of the first wave of his assault, taking it head on…

Tatsumi's whispered pleas… "Bear up, Sato… it will all be over soon…"

He would only learn later, of Tatsumi's injuries…

Notwithstanding his superior Shinigami physiology, had the man not used his shadow as a shield before charging at him, those injuries would have been far more horrific… and fatal…

If you hadn't been there, aniki… oh great gods… I would have killed Urasawa… the other two would not have been spared… they would have been cut down for certain… Muraki and Oriya might have been destroyed as well, caught in my monstrous maelstrom…

His mind's eye fed him a gory onslaught of pictures, of people, young and old, lying on the ground, blood gurgling from their mouths, noses, eyes, ears…

How had a monster like me come into being?

The only thing keeping him from bolting from the place to seek out an abandoned building, perhaps a warehouse, summon Touda, order his Shikigami toassume his deadly serpent form and finish him off in an inferno of flames, was his promise to himself to save a man called Kazutaka Muraki. His conviction to his promise bore credence to the extent with which he loved that man, that man whose broken whispers, desolate eyes, fingers pulling on blades of grass, the despair seeping from that prone body to soak into the Shinigami's skin, had reminded him of himself… as he had been upon coming to awareness in Meifu… the horror he had experienced at learning that there really was such a thing as an afterlife… his dismay turning to rage… rage becoming self-revulsion, upon discovering he was still capable of killing at his will…

… … …

"Seal this place off! From now on, no one is allowed in there! Someone send a message to Lord Enma at once… tell him what's happened here…"

"D-do you s-suppose he's a… d-demon, sir?"

"Pull yourself together man, and help me with Sawano!"

"I-is he… d-dead, sir?"

"He will be if you don't snap out of it and help me with this tourniquet! Gods! I warned you lot not to try and touch him…"

… … …

Hiding his distress well, Tsuzuki paid and apologized for the broken cup, and bowed to the cashier, his face a far cry from what it had been in the cemetery that morning…

Watari's attention was drawn to his comrades after Tsuzuki's loss of control. He joined them, eyeing him anxiously…

In the men's room, Tsuzuki washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face. Looking into the mirror above the washstand, he saw Urasawa's gaunt face, his eyes glinting with determination…

The commander continued to pull on his whips, dragging his captive closer to the spread net. Oriya was already positioned on it…

Tsuzuki would later learn from Konoe that the net and whips employed by the specials were empowered with arcane spells, said to be impenetrable, and were effective in subduing mortals who were possessed by malevolent spirits or demons and rendered unnaturally strong by these parasitical entities, before exorcisms could be performed.

The indignity of Muraki's and Oriya's capture filled the three helpless onlookers with deep contempt, Tatsumi vowing to lodge a formal protest to Lord Enma, while his partners glowered and hatched their own plots of revenge, involving their fists and the specials' jaws, intending to put them out of commission for at least a week…

In unison, the whip-handlers manipulated their whips, releasing the two men from their snake-like grips. Instantly, the net began wrapping around the pair. As though it were a living thing, it swiftly plastered itself tightly around them.

Amazingly, Muraki did not put up any resistance to this humiliation. Just before he and Oriya were shrouded and obscured by the net, both men strained to move their heads – the potency of the whips and net appeared to have sapped their strength – their eyes searching for each other's…

All six Shinigami, regulars and specials, were lulled into a sense of complacency, assuming Muraki was completely subdued…

Pulling paper towels from the dispenser, Tsuzuki sighed.

The proverbial lull before the storm…

Positioned around the bundle containing its prisoners, the lips of the specials moved as they silently chanted incantations…

Birds, hardy creatures that had not yet flown off for warmer climes and which had been twittering in the trees, suddenly took flight in panicked flocks, as though spooked…

To the three who observed the specials with trepidation, it seemed as though a black shroud had obscured the sun…

Awe mingled with terror as the Shinigami left the washroom, recalling what happened next…

To their credit, the specials remained calm, undaunted by the thick, encroaching darkness – day had suddenly become night. They raised their voices, challenging the hair-raising cry that grew steadily louder, completing their incantations. They drew close to the netted pair. Something halted them as they crouched to heft their captives…

They covered their ears with their hands, Tsuzuki and his partners following suit, to block out the by now ear-splitting cry, as they were all pushed back, some lifting off their feet, away from the two in the net, by powerful gusts of air…

The ground beneath the feet of all six men turned into the huge back of a maddened, bucking bronco. Unable to see a thing, they were knocked off their feet and left to roll upon the earth helplessly as it shuddered, yawned and bucked…

Someone rolled on top of Tsuzuki. Long hair whipping his face, he identified this person as Watari. He held on to him, felt the Shinigami's arms lock around him, heard him sobbing desolately…

They both clung desperately to each other, while they were thrown about. Beneath that terrible sound, the awesome fury of a voice he knew well, he heard Tatsumi's panicked cries, calling to him and Watari, his voice fighting with the terrible roar to be heard…

Gratitude welled in the Shinigami's heart as he whispered his name and awarded that priceless man a place in his heart for all time…

Seiichiro Tatsumi… you must have been in indescribable pain from your injuries… but all you cared about was our safety…

Watari had fallen silent, his body was limp against him, but Tsuzuki felt his heartbeat against his chest and calmed. Tenaciously, he held on to him, tossed like a rag doll by the roiling waves made of earth, listening to those voices; one belonged to the man who loved him, the other to the one he loved… a bizarre lullaby, singing him to sleep, while a cradle made of grass-covered earth rocked him…

It was well past noon when he came to; feeling gentle pats on his cheeks, he slowly became aware of worried, sapphire-hued eyes close to him. Tatsumi breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at him…

Sitting up, he cast his eyes about wildly. "Taka…?"

"He's here…"

"I'm okay, Sato." The blond was behind him, resting his cheek on his knee, one visible eye staring daggers at the trio of men who stood apart from them, conversing in hushed voices.

Tsuzuki saw Masaru Urasawa shrug and turn his haughty face to him. The commander sniffed and jerked his head at the place where Muraki and Mibu had lain, bundled like animals bound for slaughter…

All that remained were shredded remnants of the net…

"Clear all that up, men. No point looking for them. They're long gone. Well, that's that. We're out of here," announced Urasawa, dusting grass off his clothes.

"Oh yes please, do get out of my sight as soon as you can, before I rip you to shreds like that net of yours," Tsuzuki threatened, bunching his hands into fists.

Ignoring him, the specials captain pulled out a revolver from a pocket of his black leather jacket and calmly proceeded to check its barrel. His inspection completed, he grunted dismissively, tossing the gun to Tatsumi.

"It's not loaded. I can't believe you fell for that trick, Shadow Master." Smirking with self-importance, he signaled to his men. "Let's go."

Undone by the sight of that arrogant face, Tsuzuki was up in a flash, a feral creature out for blood. His face distorted with rage, he grabbed the front of Urasawa's polo neck top and smashed his fist against the man's face repeatedly, cueing Watari, who lunged for the special who had lassoed Oriya, freeing his fury with roars, his moving fist blurred as it barreled into his victim. After recovering from their initial shock, the two men set upon did not resign themselves to their fate, but rallied and fought back, blow for blow…

The wound on his right palm had already closed, but he still felt the tingling in his knuckles as he flexed his fingers, a sensation that gave him great satisfaction and no grief at all, even when he reflected on the irony of his vengeful actions – he had been dead set against any violence shown towards Muraki and Mibu, but had lashed out the captain to the point of breaking his nose and splitting his lips. He quashed the voice of his conscience and shrugged flippantly.

"All's fair in love and war… or something like that… who cares," he muttered.

Gloomily, the Shinigami strode along the corridors of sweeper headquarters, oblivious to the stares of interest cast his way by staff members.

He slowed his steps when his heart constricted, remembering that face, those broken whispers…

"… wish I had… wish I hadn't…"

Where are you? Where are you hiding? Don't hide from me… I want to see you again… even if you'll never love me back…

Lost in his longings, he did not hear the rapid steps of feet behind him, attempting to catch up with him, nor did he feel the soft brush of a hand on his shoulder…

"Hey… you okay? How are you holding up?"

He looked up, into blue eyes full of worry, felt his heart lift from the sound of that voice, thickened with warmth…

Seiichi… always… always there for me… never a care for yourself… how can you smile at me like that… after what I did to you…?

"I should be asking you that. How are you feeling?"

"I'll be fine, Sato."

Tatsumi recognized the expression in those purple crystals and brought his hand up, resting it on the beloved cheek, choosing to employ gentle touches instead of words to reassure the Shinigami, convince him he wasn't mad at him.

"I'll take all three of them on again single-handedly, for you, if you want me to, just to prove to you I'm perfectly fine," he said softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Their guffaws filled the hallway, Tatsumi struggling to stop, wincing and bending slightly, holding his chest.

"Seii- "

The secretary waved away Tsuzuki's anxiety, his laughter eventually fading, soft and sweet rippling sounds in the Shinigami's ears, and all of a sudden, he found himself hungry for the feel of that hand on his face again…

He flashed a grin, lifted his curled hand and swung it, gently cuffing Tatsumi's face in a mock punch, brushing his cheek with his knuckles, scenes of the shadow master's spectacular hand-to-hand combat skills parading through his mind…

The stunned third special, gawping at the two brawling pairs, shouting "Taicho! Taicho…!" Wringing his hands when his captain buckled to his knees after a final, punishing clout from his assailant, a wild-eyed Tsuzuki…

The unsuspecting spectator whipped his head round at a menacing growl coming from behind him…

Not to be denied his share of the pickings, Tatsumi, sans his glasses, yet another pair shattered, during the double-whammy of gale-force winds and temblor unleashed, courtesy of Doctor Kazutaka Muraki, dropped-kicked the unfortunate man.

In a rare instance of complete loss of self-control, the secretary, paying no mind to the pain from several broken ribs sustained during his feat of using his body as a shield against Tsuzuki's raw, deadly powers, did not pause there. He hauled the man to his feet and ploughed punches into him. Nimbly ducking and sidestepping retaliating swinging fists, Tatsumi finished his assault with another soaring kick, his boot connecting with the net-man's jaw. The special teetered and fell backwards, out cold.

Watari, for his part, fared extremely well in his match with his heavy-set opponent, his smaller physique belying his strength, giving him the edge, allowing him to move faster, darting away from the special's massive fists. The agile, golden-haired man switched from a fist fight to karate, efficiently warding off blows and attacking with his legs and feet, baring his teeth the whole time. A chop to the side of the bigger man's neck decided the contest – the special went down…

He reached with his hand to grasp Tatsumi's forearm, squeezing it.

"You were sensational, champ… I swear, I won't forget it anytime soon."

Self-conscious, Tatsumi's cheeks warmed; he couldn't prevent the heat from spreading to his ears, while warmth blossomed in his chest. He made a soft grunt of embarrassment, smiling shyly from the intensity of the eyes on him, eyes darkened by dilating pupils, full of an emotion the secretary never had occasion to witness before, an emotion he could not name at that point. He caught the movement of flesh at the Shinigami's throat, Adam's apple shifting as Tsuzuki swallowed. When he raised his eyes, he found he was still under close scrutiny…

He was caught, by alluring violet irises. Too many times to count, Tatsumi had seen reactions of people, women and men, young and old alike, of mortal and netherworlds both, as they beheld those shockingly beautiful eyes for the first time – he, himself, had been one of those hapless victims to have fallen under the spell of those eyes – their blushing skin in the face of such overwhelming beauty. The effect they had was especially devastating when Tsuzuki spoke with someone while wearing his sunglasses at the outset of these interactions, only to remove them or push them to the top of his head, as he was inclined to do. These unsuspecting souls would sometimes lose their wits, stammer, or would simply be struck dumb while they gaped. Blissfully clueless to his own charms, these reactions served only to baffle the Shinigami.

Following these recollections, he inevitably recalled those days… when he had been hopelessly enamored with him… when his body had rebelled against his will and had almost crushed his self-control… those nights, of engaging in acts of self-gratification with the help of erotic fantasies where Asato Tsuzuki was rendered stark naked, where he offered himself wantonly, gasping out his name… standing before the mirror in the morning, barely sated by his efforts to alleviate his desires, feeling that indefatigable thing between his legs stirring again, cursing it as though it were a perverted demon, having to frantically relieve himself once more so that the depraved thing wouldn't misbehave when he came into contact with the man who had turned him into this lusting monster… a monster who looked back at him from within the mirror, yet horribly unappeased, lusting again, from the mere thought of the first sound of that voice, the mere thought of that face, that winsome smile… he barely recognized himself, that pitiable man who had just licked his own fluid of release from his fingers and swallowed it while imagining it was HIS…those eyes in the mirror… whose were they?

At last, Tatsumi was able to label that emotion flickering in purple gems…

For his part, Tsuzuki hadn't intended for it to happen. He had been thinking of HIM, that one who had pulled that awesome stunt, that quake, that curtain of pitch blackness, skillfully terrorizing them without unduly hurting them, and then vanishing from his sight, fleeing with his Orimi, leaving him there, abandoning him… He had been gripped with shock, and a deep dread, sick to his core at the thought of never seeing him again…

Although the specials' tactics were repulsive, a glimmer of hope had sparked in Tsuzuki's heart when it seemed they just might succeed in capturing HIM. But he'd outwitted them all, eluded them and was gone, out of his reach, smashing all his hopes to pieces, hopes that had taken root after coming to a resolution…

After seeing him that morning, dazzling and utterly desirable, he knew beyond all doubts that he wanted him, wanted to be the one held by those arms, wanted to be the one swaying and shuddering from the brushes of his lips… he began toying with the idea of making a play for him, after he dealt with the entity that had plagued and ruined his beloved's life, toyed with this idea to the point of being emboldened by it… Oriya or no Oriya, he was seriously set on attempting… a seduction… feeling an incredible rush when he'd set his mind to it… musing about pushing Watari firmly in the right direction, lock him up somewhere with his rival, throw away the key, place a kekkai around the place so nobody could get in, so they couldn't get out; cogitating: surely Watari was more than capable of seducing and occupying Oriya to the point of senselessness… yes, he would rid his path of that obstacle, that exasperatingly gorgeous creature, possessed of annoyingly long, shapely legs, legs that at that very moment might possibly be clamped around the body he so desperately wanted to own, and, infuriatingly bewitching hair, his crowning glory, hair that very likely was being entwined around and caressed by Kazutaka's fingers… while they… !

No… no… no!

His grand plans had vanished in puffs of smoke.

He was becoming unglued as he strode to Daisuke's cramped office.

Damn it all, damn those idiots for failing to hold him down long enough… the nerve of Urasawa, calling US incompetent! You numbskulls botched it! Back up, indeed. What a total balls-up!

He realized with shock that it wasn't so much the specials' cold, calculating methods he detested, but their failure that had infuriated him… as a result, Urasawa had become the target of his frustration…

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he wasn't thinking straight, but he shoved that subliminal thought aside – it was of no importance. Of paramount importance were his abject loneliness, his need to be loved, his desires… by and for a man who was an enigma – like himself – a man who was an aberrant, one who was tormented by his crimes. There was no mistaking Muraki's demeanor, the look in his eyes that morning…

Surely we could understand and love each other… as kindred spirits… if you would only let me hold you… I'll burn away your torment… you, only you… can burn away mine… Muraki…

And then, Tatsumi was there, in front of him, just when he had been envisioning, again, making love, with Muraki…

Tense with arousal, but with no one to hold, no Muraki…

But… Tatsumi… was there…

Tatsumi… who loved him… had loved him, long and hard… now, that love simmered quietly, steadily…

At the outset of our friendship, that love had burned so fiercely it was frightening, Seiichi… I was flattered, but so scared… I wasn't prepared for it, couldn't accept it… I was so unstable… it wouldn't have been fair to you… I know it was so hard for you and so cruel of me… I was being so selfish, because I desperately needed you close to me, needed your care, needed your comfort… you were like wings wrapping around me whenever I reached out for you… nestled in their folds, I forgot my pain… I felt cleansed, there in your arms… I didn't want to lose it, that comfort… I truly was so self-centered, expecting you to be what I wanted you to be, while not giving you what you wanted… Seiichi…

Tatsumi, who was always there… who would always be there for him…

Here you are, when you should be resting… you just had to come, didn't you, because you wanted to see how I was doing… always thinking of my well-being, never a thought for yourself… soldiering on and on, for me… covering up what I'd done, hiding your injuries from Lord Enma…

… … …

All six of them had stood, with hangdog faces, eyes on the floor, lined up like a bunch of miscreant schoolboys before their headmaster, bedraggled, their clothes smeared with splotches of mud and dried blood…

"Urasawa. You may speak."

Enma's gleaming black eyes had flitted from one to the other while Urasawa, face cleaned up hastily prior to his appearance before the king, standing at ramrod attention, gave the brooding king a run-down of the morning's bungled mission.

The captain had displayed surprising magnanimity…

"Secretary Tatsumi wisely withdrew, your Lordship, when Mibu's life was being threatened. It is wholly understandable that he did not want to risk calling Muraki's bluff. If not for that, I am certain he would have succeeded. As for my part, I sorely underestimated Muraki's prowess in the use of esoteric craft. Therefore, I take full responsibility for the failure of the mission and will accept…"

"Did all of you sustain those injuries from Muraki's actions?"

Without hesitation, Urasawa replied, "No, milord. It was a tense and stressful mission, and emotions were running high. Tatsumi and his men are, I believe, fairly well acquainted with Mibu. Their concern for his safety and that of his companionwas perfectly natural in light of this and they judged our methods of capture as being overly harsh. They are entitled to their opinions, and had our roles been reversed and we were in their shoes, we probably would have felt as they had. Altercations ensued, but I must stress that Tatsumi and his men were under duress…"

"I see…"

"Begging your pardon, sire, but it is imperative for us to begin finding them without delay. I've contacted Officer Seki. They haven't shown up at Muraki's last haunt in Tokyo, but the sweepers will maintain surveillance there, as well as Mibu's place in Kyoto, although I seriously doubt they'll make an appearance at these locations. Our attempt at capture most certainly has them spooked, driven deeper underground, so to speak, and they'll no doubt be harder to locate from here on. Seki's attempting to hack into files of the Land Ministry to obtain information on other properties that Muraki owns. Tsuzuki, Watari and I will work closely with the sweepers."

Tatsumi had craftily re-directed the king's attention back to their primary goal of capturing Muraki, thereby luring Nameless One to their doorstep. His ploy was instrumental in ensuring that they escaped, temporarily at least, a dressing down for the scuffling.

"Very good. Carry on then, Tatsumi. Do your best, but have those injuries seen to at once, all of you, and keep me abreast of developments via Konoe or Kurosaki."

In the corridor outside Enma's office, Urasawa caught up with the secretary.

"Hold up, Tatsumi."

Hostility cooled somewhat from the specials captain's magnanimity, the three regulars nevertheless bristled at the man approaching them.

"Hacking into government files may prove difficult, not to mention risky. Their anti-hacking and tracer programs are formidable…"

"I'm aware of that, captain, and it's precisely why we resorted to other means to locate Muraki after Lord Enma's death warrant was issued," Tatsumi's tone was as civil as he could muster. "But at this point, we aren't exactly left with many options…"

"Hmm… is Seki any good?"

Tatsumi looked at Tsuzuki, who nodded. "He's their best hacker, and Watari here will assist." Looking over at the blond, he saw him eyeing Urasawa balefully.

"I've a couple of officers in my ranks who are crack hackers. I'll dispatch them to sweeper headquarters…"

"We don't require your help," hissed an indignant Watari.

"Take it easy, Taka," Tatsumi spoke to the blond soothingly. "We could use their help," he smiled at the Shinigami, while Tsuzuki put an arm around the sulking man's shoulders. Turning back to the captain, Tatsumi dipped his head graciously, ever the perfect gentlemen. "Thank you, captain, I accept your kind offer to assist."

"Not at all. I'll make arrangements for my two officers to be seconded to Seki's team for as long as they're needed right away. They'll report to Officer Seki within the hour…"

"I'm curious, Urasawa. Why the sudden interest? Why are you offering to assist us?"

The secretary's queries, in a somewhat acerbic tone, voiced questions hovering in Tsuzuki's and Watari's thoughts as well.

"Three reasons."

The captain's face showed no affront when he spoke. In fact, apart from the haughty expression during the mission, his face seemed incapable of exhibiting any other expression at all, not even the slightest signs of discomfort from his broken nose and pulpy lips.

"I hold myself accountable for the failure of the mission. Though I may not appear so, I'm in truth quite devastated to have let Enma Dai-Oh down.

"Secondly, I have a score to settle with Nameless One – this very entity has kidnapped a vast multitude of souls, thus making him an enemy of Hades, topping the list of most-wanted demons. A host of his victims, the ones we managed to rescue with the aid of the four Swords and Shields, remain in our treatment centers as a result of mind tampering and alteration procedures, as you are aware, Secretary. Lastly, I wish to make reparation for having offended you all. You think me cold and cruel, devoid of sympathy. Think what you will. I will not defend myself in the face of your judgments. I'm not interested in winning popularity polls."

The captain's bluish-gray eyes panned over the faces of the three men while he went on, in the manner of one reading a report, "I have only this to say: in my line of work, I simply cannot afford to let my emotions get in the way of getting the job done. I respect you and yours, Secretary Tatsumi, and Chief Konoe too – he was one of my best men, once upon a time, and I regret having caused you grief. Please accept my apologies, all of you."

The commander of the specials bowed stiffly and turned sharply on his heels. Pausing mid-stride, he swiveled round to face them again.

"Should you choose to lodge a formal complaint, I won't hold it against you, Secretary Tatsumi. I will address all and any issues you may have at an official board of inquiry…"

"I do not feel inclined to pursue that recourse any longer, Captain Urasawa… however, I would like to have the opportunity to speak with you… in a less formal setting…"

For the first time since interacting with him, the commander's android-like expression gave way to a display of fleeting emotions, of surprise, puzzlement, and at last, geniality; a hint of a smile on his bruised, discolored mouth made a brief appearance before it vanished. He nodded, once. "I welcome that, Tatsumi-san."

Tsuzuki, standing close to Watari, watched the three specials turn a corner of the hallway, to move out of their sight. He turned a bemused face to the blond, shaking his head. "Well… I don't think that's something you would see everyday… Masaru Urasawa smiling…"

Watari seemed not to have heard his comment, and Tsuzuki was deeply unsettled by the coldness in his eyes. As with Tatsumi's, the blond's round-rimmed glasses had been smashed during their mission and the Shinigami had an unobstructed view of golden eyes, eyes that were those of a stranger and not the eyes that had always managed to lift him out of his dark moods in the past. Frowning, Tsuzuki sorely wished they had the time to hang out together, so he could attempt to cheer his friend up… 'What a sad pair we are, Taka…'

A thudding sound made both Shinigami turn around hastily.

Tatsumi lay in a heap on the floor, unconscious…

… … …

Here you are… and just when did you… start looking… so… good…?

His breathing accelerated while he absorbed the adorable pink sheen on Tatsumi's cheeks, the bashful smile brought on by Tsuzuki's show of concern and affection…

The walls, covered randomly by posters and notice boards, the narrow corridor, everything and everyone in the Shinigami's peripheral view faded, until a surreal space took shape in his awareness, a place occupied by just two people…

Me… and… Seiichi…

Seichii… whose body was wounded by the reckless release of my damnable powers… underneath those clothes, is a tightly bandaged chest…

Tsuzuki had seen that chest, lots of times, back when they'd been partners, when they'd shared hotel rooms…

An attractive chest, with washboard abs, dusted with very fine, curling down… nipples, of the palest shade of pink… sakura nipples… underneath those finely-cut clothes… you're probably wearing baby-blue boxer briefs… no doubt there are lots of contusions all over your body… underneath your clothes…

Inside his mouth, the Shinigami felt his tongue thicken. Urges of a libidinous nature zinged through him, with picture thoughts of him kissing those dewy lips, drawing out that moist, rosy tongue he'd glimpsed when he'd been laughing a moment ago, tasting it, his tongue, and the interior of his mouth…

I'll bet he tastes as sweet… as good as he smells… I'd like to… want to… kiss and lick those bruises… bruises I put there… I'll lick them till they disappear… I'll mark you with love bruises…

He envisioned them both, pressed together. He perceived that Tatsumi would be a tender, gentle lover. A tempting image of their mouths, on the brink of a kiss, Tatsumi's eternally sweet breath mingling with his… Tatsumi, waiting patiently for him to close their lips together…

Why… am I chasing after a man who'll never be mine… when this one is right here, this man who is never far from me? No need for courtship rituals… he's in love with me, always has been… It's not so inconceivable, is it? Could we make a life together… you and I… Seiichi?

The precise moment of Tatsumi's perception of his desire did not escape his intent browsing of the face before him. He saw eyes blink rapidly, after a frown of puzzlement, followed by a very slight widening of them. After the secretary's mind processed the Shinigami's blatant lusting, desire inflamed indigo. An unmistakable bouquet of the shadow master's pheromones exuded into the air surrounding them, to be drawn into Tsuzuki's nostrils. He felt the soft touch of a hand, settling and closing over his, the one still holding Tatsumi's forearm, heard the rapid thumping of both their hearts…

"Asato…?" A whisper, throaty, infused with passion.

"Seiichi…" He stared at the enticing tip of the secretary's tongue, visible through the gap between parted lips… the amatory ambience, and the unspoken but definite promise of delicious intimacies that awaited him made him shiver… his eyelids began drooping…

With third eye vision, he saw them… flashes… of molten silver… platinum, with interspersed white… that wickedly sensuous smile… inhaling them – whiffs… of roses… his hands always smell of roses… cologne, with undertones of rosewood and tobacco…

When he opened his eyes, the face of his longing, the lover of his wet dream, was there, right in front of him…

He gasped softly, and the spell was broken, the image of his Ice Prince shattering, breaking apart like fragments of glass…

And all at once, he knew… that if he advanced further, obeying the insistent demands of his body and initiated sex between them, it would be the cruelest, most despicable act he could commit against Seiichiro Tatsumi…

To use him… in that way…!

The hand on his moved, fingers imperceptibly caressing, trembling…

He hadn't crossed the line yet, but…

Considerable, perhaps irreparable, damage has already been done: I've re-incited his desires…

Unforgivable! Oh… great… gods…

He did not want to hurt him, destroy him, by yanking his hand from under the secretary's, but dropped his gaze and squeezed his eyes shut, sighing wretchedly, cursing himself yet again… cursing the absent object of his obsession…

"Seiichi… I…"

Seiichiro Tatsumi took a step forward, closer to the shaking Shinigami…

To be continued…