A\N: This pairing is now and forever known as Toshin, because tumblr. 8| Again. I implore you to go out and find some of these songs, because there is a little bit of foreshadowing/symbolism wrapped up with the titles/lyrics of them. Oh. And they're generally fantastic songs. That is all.

He was back in the darkened hallway, hands against the second door. Why hadn't he gone any further? He turned his full weight on it, pushing back on the silk. It was dyed with a faint purple. The other door hadn't been quite as difficult to open.

But, was there another door? Or, had he just imagined it? He had been here before, hadn't he?

It refused to budge, frame still in place. He couldn't help but shake the feeling of urgency. There was something he needed to see. It was important. He had thrown his coat over his boxers and rushed out of… Where had he come from, again?

He shook his head. He just needed to get into the room.

He heard the faint chiming of metal scraping against itself. The sense of urgency increased. But the door would not budge.

He pounded against it, until his hands were just as purple as the silk itself. The screen did not rip. He sighed, and slunk against it, falling back into the wine colored door. He was sinking, too deep in the delirium to notice that the other man was dying.

By the time he had found the doorframe again, the priest had taken his dying breath. He slid it back to find a pallid corpse. The blood had dyed his robes. It seemed more fitting this way, though.

He knelt by the priest's body, hoisting it on one of his knees. He brushed the platinum hair back tucking it behind his ears. He leaned in for a kiss; the corpse was beautiful. But it was dead. It was impossible to force air into his lungs. But why was he trying in the first place?

Sleeping with his cellphone was not the best idea he'd had. But he had been tired when he came back to his apartment. Tired enough to cast off his pants and lie down on the couch. Shiomi hadn't objected. She had tucked him in and told him to rest.

And he had intended on it. But a series of high-pitched rings had brought him out of his slumber. It was becoming a routine, wasn't it? He sighed, and answered nevertheless. "Ozaki speaking."

"Ah… Toshio. I think I have something." Well, yes. It was Seishin. Obviously it was Seishin. It was Seishin. He had half a mind to hang up.

"Goddamnit. Do you know what time it is?" He had whispered harshly into the phone. Shiomi was presumably sleeping.

"It's two-thirty-two am." He was so calm.

The doctor groaned. "Seishin. I'm almost forty. You've gotta let me get some sleep."

"Ah. Sorry for bothering you then…"

"No." He sighed. "It's fine. What's up?"

He heard a conversation in the background. "I ran a broad search, and found eighteen relevant cases. It's not safe to electronically send, though."

"So you're asking me to get them from you in person."

There was a bit of hesitation on the other end. "I … didn't say that…"

"…Seishin… You want me to run around Tokyo… At two thirty…! Really!" He rubbed his forehead, vaguely aware of the noise he was making. "Can we just… tomorrow?" He hissed into the phone.

"No." There was a firmness in the man's voice; one he had not quite remembered. Seishin was not willing to compromise. He tacked a hasty explanation on anyways. "It needs to be gone by tomorrow."

"Seishin…" He rolled out of the couch, and pulled his pants off the floor. "…What exactly do you have…?"

"I'm in the fast food place across the street. Meet me there." He hung up.

"Seishin? …Seishin?" How the hell do you know where I live? There was no answer. He snapped the phone shut. Yes, he was… angry? No… anger was too strong. Irritated sounded closer to the mark. Seishin had somehow discovered his address. And he had come across something pertinent in the space of fourteen hours.

It had taken him nearly six years to find the former priest. And perhaps it would take him longer to mend their friendship. If the jinrou allowed that. The chances seemed slim. Seishin was probably going to leave once he'd gotten his death certificate. And judging from his current demeanor… Well, he wasn't exactly contemplating withholding the document.

But… Then again… Seishin had called him. That had to count for something, no matter how trivial that something was. And he could have just as easily mailed the documents to the doctor…

He sighed. Seishin was difficult to comprehend. He was firmly convinced that it hadn't always been that way; yes, in his mind, there had been a time when he could read the jinrou like a book. He pulled on the pants and threw on a coat. He was not going to repeat the same mistake he had before. Though, whatever the other man wore was likely to outdo the coat that Shiomi had picked for him.

His assessment had been correct. He was wearing a nice sweater with a prominently displayed belt. Glasses had returned to his face, though they were not quite the same style as before. These were rounder and fuller than the pair he had in Sotoba. He was sipping a presumably watery drink out of a styrofoam cup.

He slid into the booth, a tray of burgers and fries in hand. "Want some?"

"No, thank you." He took another sip.

"They're honestly not that bad." He moved the tray closer to the jinrou.

"I already ate."

He nodded. "So… What was that call all about?"

Seishin placed a folder on the table. "Medical reports. There are eighteen of them in here, with descriptions similar to that photograph you showed me." He passed it to Toshio. "I'd like you to take a look at one of them in particular."

"Seishin… Any physician can get a copy of these." He flipped through it regardless, scanning for similarities between the patients. The first report was too lengthy to go through, so he'd stopped half-way. "What's so dangerous about this?"

He shook his head, and flipped to a seemingly random packet of information. He withdrew a stack of paper, and arranged it neatly on the table. "This report in particular seems a little strange…"

The doctor skimmed it. "What's so strange about a guy dying during surgery?"

He took a second report. This one seemed familiar. "You stated that the cause of death was renal failure, did you not?"

His breath caught in his throat. A copy of his signature was staring at him. "How did you get this?"

"I found it."

"Seishin. This stuff is confidential! You can't just look through it!" He had half a mind to dump his drink on the pages, rendering them unreadable.

He shrugged. "I understand. You don't want it." He began piling the paper back into the folder.

It was unethical. And yet… He'd already crossed the line once… Was there really any harm in looking at medical reports? He was a physician, after all. "Wait… No. I'll take a look."

The jinrou continued. "This death certificate" he tapped the paper in front of the doctor "… It is false. The original report states that the patient underwent a seemingly miraculous recovery."

"Oh." He was trembling with excitement. So, there were some left-overs after all. "And when was he brought in?"

"Post-mortem."

"So… You're saying that… He came back to life." The food was long forgotten.

"And displayed signs of hyper photo-sensitivity." The assessment was just as cold as his first. Seishin seemingly knew what exactly it was that they were dealing with.

"…And I'm supposed to…?"

"Look through the reports. Change Mutou's symptoms to fit these. Delete the death certificate from the database, and write a 'miraculous recovery' for him, no matter how far from the truth it is."

He took a while to respond, looking at the reports in great detail before he did so. The patients were quite varied. There was no clear pattern. The youngest victim had been nineteen, and the oldest, seventy-two. The eighteen cases had all taken place within the last one-hundred and twenty days. The average lifespan of a red blood cell. So, he had done some prior research.

"Seishin… This is all so strange…"

But the other man had already left.