Dark Adaptation

by Hickok

NEW CONTENT ADDED! Bound to the eternal contract, can a life of sin be so easily shed? Muraki has all that he desires, yet so much remains unanswered. What manner of darkness unfurled between the walls of Muraki manor? Muraki x Tsuzuki and Oriya x Watari

5. Tsuzuki: Death, dinner and the Doctor

Dark Adaptation.

DISCLAIMER: I have NO money! *Waves hands* Please don't sue me! I own NOTHING!! NOTHING I TELL YOU!!

Note: This chapter is from Tsuzuki's POV. I haven't changed a great deal in the rewrite, just generally tidied up and changed the flow of conversation to make it sound a little less goochy. The conversation between Tsuzuki, Watari and Pandora has also been re-written to fit in with the change in storyline. I do hope readers enjoy it.

Dinner, Death and the Doctor.

In a time,

When the sun sets alone

I ran a long, long way from home

To find a hope that's made of stone

I will try

I just need a little time

To get your face right out of my mind

To see the world through different eyes

Every time I see you, oh

I try to hide away

But when we meet it seems I can't let go

Every time you leave the room

I feel I'm fading like a flower

Tell me why

When I scream there's no reply?

When I reach out there's nothing to find

When I speak, I break down and cry (cry)

Every time I see you, oh

I try to hide away

But when we meet it seems I can't let go

Every time you leave the room

I feel I'm fading like a flower

Fading like a rose

Beaten by the storm

And Talking to myself

Getting washed by the rain

It's such a cold, cold town

It's such a cold town

Every time I see you, oh

I try to hide away

But when we meet it seems I can't let go

Every time you leave the room

I feel I'm fading like a flower

Fading like a rose

~ "Fading like a Flower"

Roxette

"If man were immortal he could be perfectly sure of seeing the day when everything in which he had trusted should betray his trust, and, in short, of coming eventually to hopeless misery. He would break down, at last, as every good fortune, as every dynasty, as every civilization does. In place of this we have death."

~Charles Sanders Peirce

What does this say about Shinigami?

Tsuzuki

Seventy-three years ago, I ended my life in Tokyo.

It is also the city in which I was born and raised. I guess you could say that makes it my home town, though to be honest I do not reserve many fond memories of my time there. After tonight however, perhaps the old memories would look considerably brighter in comparison.

I tried to console myself with the thought that whatever Muraki had in store for me couldn't be any worse than everything else I had gone through already. And the man did remove Hisoka's curse as promised, though we hadn't had time yet to confirm the removal beyond reasonable doubt, since Watari had been excused for the day.

And by the way, I resent the fact that you think that I always try to be the center of attention. Who's the one who dresses in all colors of the rainbow, huh?

The night was starting to get cold. I paced restlessly outside of the restaurant, peering in through the front windows in hopes I might spot the fair haired doctor awaiting my arrival. Once I had him in my sight I'd be able to relax a little. Not knowing where he was and what he was doing, gnawed on my nerves like a tiresome dog at a bone. I'd even arrived early, hoping to inspect the scene for possible traps or even uncover any alternative motives Muraki may have had, should he have decided to spout them in the middle of the street. However, I had been circling the restaurant for the last hour and a half like a hungry vulture, testing the Acasual boundaries for tangible spells, traps, demon's lurking in the shadows with empty belly's and bad people skills. So far I had come up with nothing. Less than nothing. Zip, nada, zilch. Even the adjacent alleyways were uncharacteristically clean and people friendly. It was kind of disappointing. I had a great adrenaline surge that was now going to waste. I checked my watch. Seven-fifteen.

This was just ridiculous! I had been monitoring the door for the past hour and a half and I had yet to see the doctor once! Either he was here before I arrived (unlikely) or he was planning to arrive right on the dot.

If he arrived at all that was. The restaurant looked suspiciously… bare. I peeked inside again, seeing waiters saunter past in black tie and suit, moving things around. But there were no other customers in the establishment. Not a one. It was as though the restaurant itself had just been set up for business!

I pulled the card out of my trench coat pocket and checked the name that was scrawled in gold writing. It was definitely the right place as the large sign above the door boasted. Expansive as it was, I expected there to be others dining in close proximity, so that Muraki was restrained somewhat from any malicious or ambiguous acts. In the presence of so many people, he was more likely to behave himself.

Far as I could see, there were no customers here at all.

This is what made me so anxious.

"Where the hell is he?!" I muttered, leaning against the walkway railing with my hands in my pockets. The restaurant overlooked much of the city; the lights winking like stars from the valley below. It was a clear and beautiful night. The moon, I was thankful to see, was not full. Call me crazy but a blood red moon has become something of a bad omen as of late.

My ears suddenly picked up a faint sound heading in my direction. I opened one eye and popped up my dog ears, which were much more sensitive to noise. Footsteps heading in my direction and in considerable speed. I straightened up, my pose defensive. I doubted that it was Muraki. I don't think the doctor even knows how to run. In a state of the emergency, he would undoubtedly exit a burning building at a brisk walk. You could plant a bomb beneath the man's feet and he would calmly walk away from it. And be well out of the blast radius by the time the damn thing exploded.

The footsteps suddenly stopped and everything fell silent. Well, as silent as things can be in the grand old city of Tokyo. I listened intently for anything that might explain the unknown vigilante but nothing gave him or her away. A minute passed and I was just about to go back to checking the restaurant window, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I spun around to see Watari hovering upside down beyond the railing. There was at least a two hundred foot drop beneath him.

"Hi! Come here often?" He asked beaming.

I flashed him a very condescending stare and turned to face him, leaning my lower arms on the railing. "So you decided to turn up after all. Did you just do a running jump over the railing here?"

"You bet I did! Quite a rush too if I do say so myself!" Now you can't be any more carefree than that. The blond haired scientist kicked his legs as though swimming and with arms crossed lazily behind his head, levitated over the railing to join me. He slowly unfurled and touched the ground with astute elegance, raising one finger before his merry expression. "Sorry I'm late Tsuzuki! The shops were positively packed!"

I nodded and did a double take. Watari was carting at least six or seven shopping bags, each from some pricy clothing store. Which meant he was probably broke now. He was wearing a tight black turtleneck beneath a lavish looking knee-length red jacket. His pants were made of some material I couldn't identify, probably couldn't even pronounce and his black boots with two inch heel were suede. His long wavy blonde hair was out and cascaded in enviable volumes down his back to brush the swayed arch of his waist.

I sighed and looked down at my usual attire of black suit and trench coat. I was feeling suddenly underdressed.

"You know Watari… I hate to break it to you, but this is actually my date. Not yours." I reminded him as he slapped my shoulder boisterously and then quickly bounced over to check the restaurant. "You know, I really appreciate you coming and everything… but if you're not feeling well-"

He cast me a puzzled expression. "Whatever are you talking about Tsuzuki? I know whose date it is! I'm just here as support; remember?" He skipped back up to me and pinched my cheek delicately. "This is a covert operation and it's not like you could ask Tatsumi or the kid to do it! Both of them would fly off the handle if they knew what you were up to!"

"You've got that right." I mumbled, scratching my head. Thinking about Hisoka and Tatsumi and all that they'd done for me, made my presence here seem like a betrayal. "Watari… do you think I'm doing the right thing? Going along with Muraki?"

The blond chuckled. "Well, you're not exactly going along with him Tsuzuki. You're both here of your own free will! Besides, if it is as you've said, using the doctor's obsession with you may work in our favor!" He grinned a little evilly. "Think of it as putting a muzzle on a rabid dog. Or removing the teeth from a lion. You are preventing Muraki from injuring others by doing this; you are essentially taking from him what gives him the desire to kill. You are the muzzle Tsuzuki. Of course you are doing the right thing. Especially since you insisted I join you. Tatsumi and the kid wouldn't understand, despite the logic. There's too much bad blood there. If the doo-doo hits the fan, you can make damn sure that I won't let my crush on you get in the way of handing Muraki's ass to him on a platter!"

Well, that was certainly something I would pay money to see. I laughed a little and lightly biffed him on the arm. "Get off of it." I said, though I was thankful for his verification of my actions. Watari has this incredible way of making everything seem all right in the end. He was always positive, always cheerful and energetic. He was not one to let himself get bogged down in personal problems or bad feelings.

Which was why it was such a shock to see him that way this afternoon. It was surprising; Watari was a doctor and a scientist. He'd grown accustomed to seeing dead bodies a long time ago. The previous nights venture to the Tachiagari had been significantly more confronting and yet he'd barely battered an eyelid, whence compared to his intense reaction to the photographs of the Kyoto Cleaver's victims.

I could only assume that this had been something of a personal nature. And as much as I wanted to ask, Watari clearly did not want the topic brought up again. Displays where he lost control embarrassed him and I would only be further offending him by mentioning it now.

I shook off my thoughts and smiled at him genuinely. "Thanks again for coming with me tonight. I'm sorry to have caused you any trouble, especially when you're off so early tomorrow."

Watari winked as he leant against the railing beside me. "Oh nonsense! It's my pleasure! No point in sitting around reviewing the case specifics all night. Think of it as payment for helping me pack this afternoon!"

"No problem Watari." I said, checking my watch distractedly. Twenty past… "Got me out of paper work… and I was able to prevent that disastrous fashion faux-pas."

"Which one?"

"You know 'which one'," I said, flashing him a look. "That hideous piece of dental floss that you insisted passed for clothing."

Watari raised an eyebrow, confused. "What are you talking about Tsuzuki…?" Light suddenly dawned in his eyes. "Do you mean my thong?"

I pretended to be flabbergasted. "Oh… that's right. It wasn't dental floss. Though it was a fairly easy mistake to make. I kept wondering to myself… 'When would Watari find the time to floss?'"

"I'll have you know that that was a 60000 yen 'dental floss.'" The blond said indignantly, hands on his hips. Now I didn't even have to pretend to be flabbergasted.

"For a piece of string?!" I nearly choked on the air. "Where on earth were you planning to wear it? At the front desk?"

"Well it is a brothel…" Watari said, batting his eyelashes innocently. Much forehead slapping ensued.

"It is first and foremost a restaurant." I reminded him gently. "The brothel part is meant to be a secret, at least to everyone but VIP's. Do ya wanna put people off of their food?"

Good choice of words there Tsuzuki. Now I had offended him. Watari's mouth dropped open and he learned close, prodding me so violently in the chest with each word that he nearly threw me over the railing.

"And just what do you mean by that?!" He said, punctuating his sentence with a hard poke from his finger. I sighed and tried to duck away from him.

"Nothing." I checked my watch again and then ritualistically appraised the window. Still no sign of my indubitable dinner companion. "Just tell me that you didn't end up packing that atrocious shoelace."

Watari paced about with his bags swinging in the crook of his arm. He seemed ten times more impatient than I was. Idleness was not a part of his vocabulary. "No, I realized that you were right."

Something I always love to hear. "Good."

"That thong really was no good for me! So, I brought myself some new underwear. TAH-DAH!!"

At this, I was treated to examine the contents of one of Watari's bags. Thankfully, I did not get a detailed look, but I could see he'd at least bought himself some sensible boxer shorts and the like, which suggested he was calming down in concern to flamboyant undergarment options. I rolled my eyes, thinking that it had taken him long enough.

"Wonderful." I said with sincerity. "Well, looks like you're all set for your trip I'm guessing the other bags are full of relatively evocative clothing, guaranteed to turn the eye of a particular young swordsman?"

Watari grinned unashamedly and nodded, prompting another sigh from me. I would be lying if I said that my wacky friend did not enjoy the thrill of the chase, the pursuit of something he hoped to obtain. Perhaps this is what led him to become a Shinigami. In this way, he was a little like Muraki I supposed. Though Watari had a tendency to be more gentle and playful in his enticements, rather than forceful and belligerent.

"You don't even know the half of it. How do my eyebrows look?" He suddenly asked, swooping in close and raising his eyebrows for inspection. It was a little hard to tell in the dark, but I assumed he had done something with them. This was the part where I just played along and said what he wanted to hear.

"Smashing." I said.

"Tint and shaping." Watari explained to my shrewd observation. "Nails?" He held out his hands.

"Lovely." I said.

"Manicure. How about my hair?" He spun around and shook his head, causing his hair to whip about in a truly eye catching way. I'd known women who would die to have hair like his.

"Stunning." I told him.

"Trim and styling. Not to mention special treatment with three different brands of shampoo! My hair can be so uncooperative when it wants to be." He turned to face me and even in the fading light I could see him chewing his lower lip worriedly. "I'm kind of nervous Tsuzuki. I really wanna make a good second impression. The first time I ever met the guy, he was slicing up Hisoka, which doesn't leave too much room for interpretation."

I wanted to remind him that if anyone should be nervous, it was the guardian about to embark on a dinner date with a renowned perverted serial killer and rapist, who's had designs on him since day one. But then I remembered that Watari was going to be plunging head first into the search for a supernatural killer who had reduced three women to little more than scraps of flesh, the Gushoushin his only support if all went to hell. Focusing his attentions on this 'Oriya Mibu' was perhaps the minor means of comfort he enforced in order to settle his rattled constitution. I bit back my rebuttal and offered what little sympathy I could.

"He probably only said that because he saw your blond hair and bright clothes and figured that… maybe… you weren't all that… clever…" I said benevolently. Watari's eyebrow twitched. "He could be one of those guys who just believes' the stereotypes! But don't you worry; once he gets to know you, I'm sure that he's going to love you just as much as the rest of us do!"

Watari sighed and gazed up at the sky. "I hope you're right…"

I grinned and slung my arm around his shoulders. "Of course I'm right! You're going to save the day and get the guy! And don't you worry about a thing, I won't tell anyone about your attempts to woe him, just as long as you keep this little expedition tonight here a secret."

"No problems there!" He said, patting my hand gratefully. He turned his back to me again. "What about my butt? Can you check to see if it's firm enough?"

I blanched. "Watari… our friendship means a lot to me. But not that much."

He shrugged. "Worth a try." Watari leant back on the railing again and was just holding up his hand to catch a yawn, when the sound was firmly assassinated in his throat. His mouth clamped shut. "Uh-oh." He said.

Great. Just what I didn't need. An 'uh-oh.' "Uh-oh' what?" I asked, looking around nervously. Watari straightened up and pointed down the railing to my far right. Someone was emerging out of the shadows and heading steadily in our direction. At first I thought it might be Muraki, impeccably on time as it were and was about to say as much to Watari when the other guardian cut me off with a shake of his head.

"It's not Muraki." He said, coming around to stand beside me and squinting into the darkness before us. "Not tall enough. And certainly doesn't have his aura. I can sense Muraki coming a mile off."

I shrugged. "Why the 'uh-oh' then? Huh? Trying to get me all worked up for no reason?"

"How dare you, sir." Watari snorted, straightening his glasses and leaning forward on the tips of his toes. He looked like a bird about to launch into flight. "The 'uh-oh' concerns someone else you probably don't want to see right now. Whoever this is, they have the exact body shape and hairstyle as a certain young Shinigami we both know as Hisoka Kurosaki. Hence, 'uh-oh.'"

'Uh-oh' was an understatement. As the figure came closer I could indeed see the uncanny resemblance to Hisoka, even through shades and shadows. It got worse. Same distinct untamed hairstyle, same long legs, same body shape. I couldn't make out the clothing but I already knew it would be denim, with the pants tucked into the jogging shoes. My whole body went rigid and my face flushed in guilty acknowledgement. He'd found out! Somehow he found out what I was doing and now he thought I had betrayed him!

I couldn't let Hisoka catch me here. He meant too much to me. Too damn much. It was time to go.

"Wait Tsuzuki!" Watari begged, grabbing me by the arm as I moved to run past him. My attempt to escape was so forceful I nearly pulled him off of his feet. "What's the point in trying to run now? He's already seen us."

Like Muraki's summoning however, it was not the inevitability of what was to occur but more the fact that like so many things in my life, I couldn't accept it. Even after hearing Watari's cool clarification, I still tried to keep on running, wondering if I could jump over the railing and float away unnoticed. Maybe Watari could lie and say we were here on one of his dates? Or we were out drinking as usual? I was already formulating a million excuses in my mind, trying to piece together the most acceptable one as Watari dug his heels in to restrain me and I struggled against his hold as though my head might implode if I remained in place. Knowing Hisoka, I could certainly say that an imploding head would be the least of my concerns.

The footsteps came up and stopped behind us. I couldn't even bring myself to face him.

"I'm sorry Hisoka!!" I wailed, clenching my fists hard around the handrails until the knuckles went white. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen but- I just thought… it was all I could do to- if you just give me a moment to explain-"

"Uh… Tsuzuki…?" Watari said softly. He gently touched my shoulder, pushing against the bone to turn me around until I faced my partner. I prepared myself for the deserved hail of abuse, punches, tantrums that were expected when your trusted friend was caught attending a dinner date with the man who killed you. But amazingly, none of that came. I cranked open one eye as Watari began to embarrassedly apologize for my outburst.

"We're awful sorry about that. Mistook ya for someone else." He said with a bashful chuckle. The young boy, all of fifteen years old, just smiled at us as though he had been expecting no more or less. It was easy to see how we had mistaken him for Hisoka at first. The boy was practically a spitting image of him. He had the same dry brown tone of hair, hinted streaks of blonde tracing the highest ridges. There was something unique about his looks, which gave me the impression that apart from appearance, he held nothing in common with my partner. Whilst Hisoka's eyes were bright green and closed to the world, the boy before me had ice blue twins that seemed to gaze into my soul with careful scrutiny. As if he were aware of all that had come before me, all the horrendous things I had seen and committed in my life. As young as he appeared, there was no youthful naivety in his disposition. Rather he appeared somehow wise beyond his years.

I reconsidered. His hands were no longer in his pockets. He had them crossed wrist over wrist before his waist, in a stance that neither Hisoka nor Hijiri would ever adopt. The blue-eyed boy didn't slouch and his body remained straight beneath and behind his arms; chin tilted up toward me confidently and one leg bent slightly at the knee, allowing him to tap the toe of one shoe against the ground as he studied the two of us.

Taste in clothing also differed. He was wearing a tight black turtleneck with the sleeves rolled up; exposing what looked to be like cigarette burns on his inside lower arms. The faded black pair of jeans he had on were worn away on the left knee and had a number of tears littered throughout the material. His black shoes were scuffed and in desperate need of a polish.

Eventually, he broke the silence, after I had squirmed for a suitably long time beneath his adolescent expression. "Do I remind you of someone?" He asked and there was genuine curiosity in his tone. His voice was tender, like a caress of fingertips across the flesh of my forearms. With every passing moment he became less like Hisoka to me.

I smiled and tried not to let my sudden inexplicable apprehension of this kid show. I did back up a step however. "No. Well… no one you need to worry about anyway."

Watari came around to my side and knelt down to address the kid on a more personal level. Not that the boy was that much shorter than us, but it seems to be an odd habit with adults. Somehow kneeling down indicates that we are approachable to the child and we lesson our intimidation.

"Isn't it a little late for a young man like yourself to be wandering around?" Watari asked kindly. He phrased it in such a way that it did not sound condescending. "A place like Tokyo, you never know who you're going to run into."

The boy tilted his head back and shook his face from side to side. Some kind of silver pendant dangled at his throat. A crucifix.

"Yes… for a young fellow I do suppose it would be." His gaze traveled to the side and he huffed in what sounded like an ironic fashion. Those icy blues leapt up to focus on me. "Never know… when you're going to come across a dead man. I should be more careful, if I don't want to end up like either of you. Is that what you are saying?"

I saw Watari physically lurch. He nearly fell back on his butt at the boy's words. My eyes literally bulged from my face as I registered what it was he was saying. And even though I had heard it, my mind continued to deny it.

"What did you say?!" I snapped. The kid merely smiled and walked toward the restaurant, hands drawn over his stomach and picking at something beneath the nails. "Hey I'm talking to you kid!"

"Kid?" He spun around, an untouchable smile stretched across his face. His face that was longer than Hisoka's, shaded around the edges and a mouth that was too wide and clever when he smirked. "My name is Pandora. You are Asato Tsuzuki. And you-" He looked at Watari who had somehow staggered to his feet. "-are Yutaka Watari. Shinigami. Dead men walking."

I didn't know what to say. I began to back up as the kid approached me confidently, hand outstretched to touch me. Forcing myself to relax, I reasoned that it wasn't impossible for a normal human being to know about Shinigami, or even the names of specific guardians themselves. With this in mind, I let him gently squeeze a hold of my arm as though testing the muscle through the fabric of my coat. Then he smiled and this time, there was true feeling to it.

"You know…" He said conversationally. "You don't feel dead to me. I can feel the warmth of your flesh. The warmth of the person you are, the kind of person you are. A kind man." The hand trailed up to my shoulder and rested there comfortably. "You understand what it's like, right? To want to live, even when you know you don't have the right? Even when your being alive can bring such terrible pain for others…" He used his free hand to press my own to the wall of his chest and then slowly looked over his shoulder as though seeking out something. "To want those things we know we should force away... to risk everything all for the chance that we can live just a little longer." He looked into my face and I was shocked by the degree of desperation in his expression. As though he were seeking my approval. "Is that such a bad thing? Is it okay to be selfish for yourself after giving so much for others? To be… afraid…"

Pandora, as he called himself, received no reassurance from me. His eyes whelmed with anxious dread as I pushed him away from me and quickly backed off. My brows were furrowed in defense but I was not past the point of exasperation or fear yet. I did not fear this being the way I feared Muraki.

"You're so moralistic… Of course you think such selfishness is weak and wrong." He murmured, leaning back against the railing and trailing his fingers along it. One fingernail scratched away the paint as he traced a line on the far side. "Shinigami make the choice to return to life because they have regrets of which are not dealt with. You work with a partner because you don't trust yourselves to not take advantage of what that new life entails. The bygone peoples are the most selfish… but you don't realize just how selfish you are until your life is dangled before your eyes like an object that can be so easily taken away forever." He smiled sympathetically at our confused expressions. "I came to find you tonight… both of you. I wanted to say that…" His eyes welled with tears as he lifted his weight from the balcony rail and turned to face us with sincerity so naked, that it quite embarrassed me to be witness to it. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for it. For being selfish… for thinking I had a right to come back here."

Watari glanced at me incredulously and then back to the boy. "Kid… I don't have the foggiest what you're talking about. And I'm guessing from my mates goonie expression, that he hasn't a clue either."

The boys' eyes clenched together so tightly, it looked as though he were fighting back a sharp and sudden pain. When he opened them, sweat had broken out on his upper lip and forehead as thick and round as marbles.

"I risked so much just coming to see you now but I had to… I had to tell you. I didn't mean for all those people to die. I couldn't help it! I tried… I tried to stop it but it's too strong for me. All those people… God forgive me." He clenched the crucifix at his throat so tightly that blood began dripping from the base of his fist. Light dawned in my mind and his words made sudden, sickening sense to me. From the look on Watari's face, I could tell that he had made that connection also.

"The Tachiagari! You!" Watari dropped the bags and lunged for the boy before I had the chance to react. The boys eyes slammed shut again as he allowed himself to be caught between Watari's hands and the Shinigami tugged him violently close, almost lifting him up off the tips of his toes in his anger. "What the Hell are you?! Why did you kill all those people?!" He shook the boy, who broke into sobs so despairing that it jarred my heart.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please don't be angry with me! I just wanted to go back to the place I knew. I thought I had it under control. I thought it would be okay for me to be selfish just this once! I never meant… Oh god, all those people!" His sobs escalated to full throttle cries and Watari looked truly disgusted at having to keep his grip on this pitiful thing as it dribbled all over him. "I can't take it anymore… this is nothing. Nothing!"

"I don't understand… what do you want us to do?" I asked gently, trying to look into the face I had seen disintegrate before my very eyes the previous night. Shining blue pierced through the slant of his eyelids as they slid slowly open, long eyelashes wet with tears.

"Help me…" He whimpered. I felt the fear, the pain and the sadness roll off of him, so palpable it turned my chest to cold steel. "Help me finish this… before it finishes me."

Watari gasped in shock, his hands flailing wildly in the huge puff of white feathers that suddenly exploded between his hands. He cursed, grabbing for even these as they slipped through his fingers and weaved over the balcony and away into the night air to parts unknown. I raced to the balcony railing, staring after them with confusion and a quiet, disconcerting sadness. Watari stomped noisily to my side, hurling the small handful of feathers he had managed to snag after the rest with a vehement, 'Gah!'

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" He cursed, slamming his hands onto his hips and taking a deep and forceful breath that seemed to drop his ribcage down into his stomach. "He did it again! It's like trying to hold onto a piece of god-damn soap!"

"What should we do?" I asked softly, twirling one of the feathers that had been caught in a cobweb beneath the railing. Watari growled as he scratched the back of his head, clearly having a difficult time controlling his frustration at being evaded by this strange child again.

"I put through a call to the Containment sector, give them a full description of the kids appearance. They decide how to handle it from then on in." He looked at me impatiently. "Why are you giving me that look? Wait, I know what you're thinking." He shook his finger at me before I even had a chance to open my mouth. "The kid got to ya with his crying 'help me' routine. I can read you like a book, mate. You don't think I should dob him in until we know more about his situation."

I shrugged uncomfortably. "Well-"

"Tsuzuki!" Watari groaned with exasperation. "That kid is responsible for the death of thirty-eight people! He's a danger so long as he's out and about. Even if he's possessed by a demon, there's no way I can take the chance or the time to find out more about him."

"Watari, the Containment sector have orders to kill him on sight!" I shouted, surprising even myself with my passionate exclamation. "That kid we just spoke to; he's not the same as that thing we chased all over the library last night. I know you feel that too. How can we give over his name and appearance to the Containment sector just so they can go out and kill him without question?" I grabbed Watari's arms between my hands and looked as desperately into his eyes as the imploring child had gazed into my own. "Something's wrong. He's struggling with something and he needs our help."

Watari knocked my hands away. "I have a mad mutilator in Kyoto that requires my attention, never mind what this kid needs from me. And you need to concentrate on your problems. One of which you need to deal with in the imminent future." He turned me about to face the doors of the restaurant and the reason for my being here in the first place came violently rushing back to the forefront of my mind. Dinner. Muraki. Tonight. "Why don't we focus on that in the meantime and not go sticking our noses into every other sob story that crosses paths with us, eh?"

He made perfect sense of course but the cold practicality of it refused to sit right with me. As the boy had said, I was a moralistic person. And no one could have ever accused me of taking the easy road. I looked over my shoulder into Watari's eyes, beseeching and he groaned.

"I'm gonna make the report to the Containment Sector, Tsuzuki. I'm sorry but that's non-negotiable. The interests of the Waking World have to be taken into consideration. But," He held up a cautionary finger. "If you decide to look into it, I'll help ya out. And hopefully, we'll be able to figure something out before the Containment Sector susses him out."

I beamed warmly at him. "Thankyou Watari."

He smirked ironically, jerking his chin upward to indicate over his shoulder. "'Sides, the little buggers so bloody slippery, it'll be a wonder if the Containment sector could ever get a hold of him. I just hope he can keep those urges to suck people dry under control until we can figure something out. Now come on, handsome." At this, he suddenly planted his foot into the small of my back and pushed me gently towards the door of the restaurant. (You recall that Shinigami have advanced strength. A gentle shove was enough to propel me almost face first through the glass and into the foyer). "Time to get that pretty ass molested."

"Watari!" I snapped, dusting at the footprint he had surely left on the back of my coat. "You are buying me the biggest drink once all this is over."

Watari grinned, slipping his arm over my shoulder. "I'll get ya a round of shots and a martini, how's that sound?"

Well didn't it just sound like music in my ears! "Love you." I purred, leaning my head against the blonds' shoulders.

"Yeah, I know." He said, giving me hearty shove through the revolving doors. "I don't know that kids deal anymore than you do, but we certainly weren't going to get anywhere what with your inability to say no to anyone."

Now is that the biggest load of hypocrisy you have ever heard in your life or what? I relayed this to him in much more colorful terms and got a box around the ears for my effort.

"Come on," he encouraged as I rubbed my bruised lobes. "Go to the guy at the front desk and ask for Muraki. The sooner we get this over with the better."

We emerged into the foyer and I stalled a little. "But we didn't even see Muraki go in! I bet he stood me up…"

BAP! That was Watari boxing my ears again.

"You sound like an insecure girl!" He muttered shaking his head in disgust. "Now look; Muraki is not going to stand you up. If anything you would be the one standing him up. You might have missed this but Muraki has a thing for you. And remember when I tell you that he's not to show it to you without your permission. Even if he is buying you dinner."

It took me a while to catch onto this but when I did I blushed so deeply that I could feel it in my bones. "Watari!"

"Try not to be nervous at the lack of people." He continued, unfazed. "I will be nearby at all times, completely undetected by our dear doctor. As discreet as discreet can be!"

"Yeah, as discreet as you were this morning? Great…" I said sarcastically.

BAP!!

"Ow!! At this rate, I'm not going to be able to hear any information that Muraki might tell me!" I sobbed, great pools of tears forming in the corners of my eyes. Watari was actually starting to look annoyed, a sight as rare as flying saucers.

"If I am to remind you Tsuzuki, I was able to inquire about Hisoka's curse without him having the slightest inclination about our intentions! So why not cut me some slack? I could be lying in bed at home right now, dreaming about the swordsman I'm going to seduce but instead I nobly chose to give up my luxury time and come down here to help you. Even after you insulted my taste in undergarments."

"All right, all right already!" I yelled, prodding at my ears. "Sheez… all I did was make a simple suggestion. I didn't mind the rest of your underwear… I even liked the boxers that were tri-color…"

"Oh forget it." He said waving a hand at me. "Now, what say we get this dinner underway, hmm?" He examined a menu on the wall and suddenly let out a cry of joy. "Oh my heaven's! They have Italian here! Ooooh… what a time for me to be discreet…" He moped.

I laughed a little to myself. Watari's favorite food was Italian. "Don't you worry, Watari. I'll make sure to get a doggy bag for you."

"That's what you said the last time you were at a restaurant and you ate it before you even got to my apartment." He grumbled. Cheering up almost immediately, he trotted back over to me and slapped me heartily on the rear. "It's all up to you now Tsuzuki! Go in there and have a jolly good time!"

I watched as he shifted into invisibility. If I switched into the second field of visual penetration I was still able to see him as clear as day and I confirmed this by poking him in the nose. As I made my way over to the attendant at the front desk, I felt Watari swat me on the back of my head.

"Ow!" I exclaimed.

"Um… excuse me sir but… we are not serving customers tonight." The attendant said, staring at my outfit with obvious repugnance. "The restaurant has been rented out by a VIP for the remainder of the evening. You'll have to come back some other day if you wish to dine here."

Well, that explained the noticeable lack of other patron's at least. Ooh, time to feel really important. I made sure to puff out my chest pompously as I replied. "My names Asato Tsuzuki. I've been invited by Kazutaka Muraki to dine with him tonight."

Mentioning Muraki's name was as effective as announcing that I was a close personal friend of the Emperor. I could see the reaction unfold on the attendants face almost immediately; like a rose blooming from its' tight bud at the emergence of the sun. His face lowered, allowing me to meet his eyes without an obstructive view of his nostrils.

"Ah yes… Tsuzuki-san. Muraki-san has been expecting you." He said stepping out from behind the small desk he was stationed at. "Come right this way."

I reached out a hand to stop him. "Excuse me sir, but might I ask how Muraki-san arrived here? I was waiting outside for quite a while and I didn't see him turn up."

The man smiled patiently at me, as though he were entertaining the curiosity of a child. "Muraki-san has been here all day, directing the presentation of the restaurant, in anticipation for your arrival." He gave my blushing expression a curt bow and I wondered how he was able to maintain such a straight face knowing that the doctor was dining with another man. Well… to be perfectly frank, he was dining with two men. Not that Muraki would know Watari was there. He was going to be discreet.

The attendant requested once more that I follow him. I obediently trailed along behind him, down the short hallway and through the great oak double doors into the main room. Watari, who had been keeping up a steady pace alongside me, let out a loud whistle of appreciation. It caught the attention of the attendant who glanced backward, suspecting obviously that I had been the one to do it. Well I suppose if the shoe fits… My own reaction to the interior of the restaurant was just as startling. My mouth was hanging open like a kid in an ice cream factory.

Everything was styled in red, black and gold. The gold I mention came from lit candles on the walls, tables and chandelier. The plush, spongy carpet beneath my feet was a deep mauve; one might even say the color of old blood which did not surprise me. Damn that Muraki. Trust him to be attracted to a place like this. For some reason it made me wonder if Muraki had stained the floor red with the blood of his victims. He made a principle of extending tokens of 'appreciation' toward me such as this. In the most appalling way, I could see how this might be seen as romantic in the eyes of a killer like him.

The curtains hanging from the balcony windows were the same color as the carpet and tied tightly in the center, almost like a geisha's obi. One of the doors to the balcony was cracked open, allowing the cold wind from outside to gain entrance to the room. The lights were dim; a fire flickered in the great stone fireplace on the far wall.

Trust Muraki. He'd styled the restaurant like it was his own bedroom. All that was missing was some sleazy music. Damn, he'd even had roses put out. White, red and purple flowers permeated the air with their heavy perfume; set in full bunches on every table between here and the kitchen. The scent was suffocating in its' strangely alluring comeliness.

I wondered whether Muraki had such a deep affinity for roses because they were something like him in symbolism. Roses were pretty to look at, but when you least expected it, they could make you bleed.

And as Watari would put it, I was here to dethorn that rose once and for all.

"Talk about no expenses spared, big fella!" Watari whispered, giving me a nudge in the ribs with his elbow. The attendant turned to look at me, inquisitively.

"Did you say something sir?"

I cleared my throat and pointedly jammed my foot down on Watari's toe. He smothered a cry of pain as I faced the man who had escorted me in.

"I was just wondering where the doctor is? You say he's been here the entire time?"

The attendant nodded. "Yes, that's right. He's out on the terrace right now. Feel free to go right on through."

I nodded in appreciation and took a deep shuddering breath. Right, here we go. Time to bite the bullet. Summoning my inner strength, I approached the balcony; my coat wrapped tight around my body to defend me from the sharp sting of the cold night air. By the time I had reached the door which had been propped open by a strong chain to the outside wall, I had spotted Muraki.

He was perched on the stone railing, one leg dangling casually over the inside whilst the other was crooked up before him. He seemed meditative; his eyes were closed, his face angled up to embrace the cold wind rather than refute it, a cigarette clutched delicately between two fingers. As I watched he blew a stream of smoke out from between his lips, the night wind snaring it and carrying it away into the darkness. The possession of a single breath, to capture and to hold within its' hands, the way he so effortlessly held my own. He was dressed in white as always, his trench coat folded up neatly on a nearby stone bench.

Such a perfectionist. It would be so easy to take a run at him now; to shove him off of the side of the building to his death. Such thoughts had often gotten the better of me in the past. In anger I'd often attempted to overcome him and instead found myself at his mercy, pinned by his arms alone. With no magical aid he easily manipulated me to his own will. Even in Kyoto when I'd stabbed him that had only been a chance of luck. He'd gone insane with the thoughts of vengeance, letting his childish giddiness for the completion of the task he'd awaited so long to accomplish rule his emotions. That was why I'd won that round.

What a moment that had been. The look on his face had been incredible, the disbelief. The implausibility brushing against his own rationality that no one would be able to stop him such as I did. I was his toy. And I had taken the knife he had left so daringly by my side on the operating table and the kind, sweet Asato Tsuzuki, had plunged it into Kazutaka Muraki's abdomen. I'd twisted once, creating a corkscrew of scars across his belly, allowing blood to splash up over my face and neck. In that state, I had adored the feeling. Desired it as thoroughly as I'd ever desired to make love. It was as though years of tension and denial had just been washed away.

I remember… Muraki had been reduced to something of his true self in those moments. As I stared down at him, bleeding out across the shining floor of the university basement, inviting the two of us to die together, his voice changed. I naturally assumed it would; after all, he had just been stabbed. But… the voice was not angry, not vengeful at me for what I'd done. He sounded… happy. Glad at the prospect of dying together. "You actually wanna die with me?" He had asked.

And yes. Yes I had. Not so much die in your arms Muraki but take you down into death with me, as though killing you would redeem myself in some small way. Both of us are killers after all. You were just the one that never hated yourself for it.

There were no falsities in that one hopeful sentence you spoke. I heard it in you, the admonished tone that followed reminding me that my sorrow could not be swallowed by his death alone. I knew that. But when I look back on it now, maybe one part of me remains hopeful because of the way you spoke to me then. A man with hope, with desire, with aims and weaknesses, a man who bleeds is not beyond saving despite all that he has done.

I couldn't forgive you. Not ever, Muraki. But I could never forgive myself either, could I?

What does that tell me? To be honest… I don't know. I guess I think about things more than I really should, concern myself needlessly and return to the details of my past at a regular occurrence. I didn't want to learn how to live as you did. Without guilt, remorse or compassion.

I just wanted to believe that you could be saved. That's arrogant of me I suppose but you are still a person and I feel compassion for anyone that has ever been hurt because of me.

You were now one of them, Muraki. You were now mine to protect.

That's what kills a dead man like me.

I sighed softly and took a single step out onto the terrace. Muraki turned his head expectantly and I couldn't help but allow myself to tingle at the expression on his face. At first, I took him to be angry and I wondered if perhaps he'd had some inkling of my thoughts before I'd stepped out. Or maybe he had somehow seen Watari. Looking back now and switching to my second level of penetration, I was surprised to find that even I could not see him. Perhaps he was standing behind the door out of sight, allowing me some privacy with the good doctor.

Thanks Watari. Much appreciated.

Muraki's visible eye flashed. His face went undeniably still. The fingers clenched around the cigarette, gripped the smoldering cylinder until it had nearly snapped in two.

"Uh… I know I'm a little late." I said bluntly, looking down at my shoes. They were scuffed at the toes, nowhere near as shiny as Muraki's. "Sorry if you expected me to dress up. I'm probably an insult to this snooty restaurant of yours."

The comment was snide, rude. And bitter. Truth be told I was feeling kind of embarrassed about the way I had presented myself. Even Watari, as my invisible aide de camp looked more suited to this place than me. I had dubious suspicions that Muraki had done this on purpose, another insidious method to debase me such as he'd done in Kyoto by bringing up the scars on my wrist and the demon's blood in my veins.

The doctor rose to his feet, crushing the orange ember of the cigarette out on the cement and discarding it in an ashtray he'd been keeping handy near his feet.

"You look fine." He told me stiffly.

Oh fuck you. Some of us aren't rich doctors who can afford to have our bloodstained suits pressed to perfection every day. Or get 80 000 yen haircuts. Or shop at Armani's. Considering my low budget, I thought I'd done pretty well to get myself ready for tonight. I didn't actually say this, though I think I would have been fairly justified. Instead I just played the stiff upper lip and furrowed my brows.

"Shall we go inside then?" I asked crankily. "Did you actually leave any room for us to eat amidst all those roses, or is it your intention for us to eat off of the floor?"

Muraki cocked an eyebrow, his expression sincerely surprised. He paused for a moment, his body utterly and completely still. A premature rigor mortis.

"Why Tsuzuki-san… does this mean you may actually consent to eating in my presence for once?" He asked, seemingly astonished. My face went even redder. "Until now, I have wasted ridiculous amounts of money in attempts to dine and drink with you but each and every time you seemed fit to throw my generosity back in my face."

What the hell was he so pissed off about? This was my inconvenience, not his. "Well you do make a good point." I spun on my heel. "See you later Muraki, have a pleasant evening."

I don't even know if I truly intended to leave. Perhaps I only wanted to see if he would actually protest to my departure, or even apologize for being so impolite. If anything, the doctor was always civil to a fault, even to his victims though that was usually just a cruel mockery designed to express his complete control and fastidiousness in his dismissal of those that suited him.

Whatever the case, I was amazed to find that Muraki did not appear as overly concerned as before with maintaining his stateliness. A hand closed around my upper arm. Muraki gently eased me around to face him, his head cocked to one side exposing his artificial eye. The real one, the silver orb with the cat's iris streaking through it like a dark fissure, bore into me hotly. His gaze never left my face however, subjecting me to his full attention. I felt my knee's give out a little. It was too intimidating to have him stare at me in this manner; without humor. Without the dark smile and the teasing, suggestive comments. Now he appeared so serious in his actions and that was not the Kazutaka Muraki I'd come to know over the course of the past two-years.

"I have upset you." He said finally. A rhetorical question to which I could only reply with a limp sort of shrug. "Then I apologize. It was not my intention to incense or embarrass you. Not tonight. What is it that has you quite so irate, Tsuzuki-san? Is it my presence alone? Or do you have other reasons?"

He appeared genuinely curious, though I hadn't a clue where to begin illuminating my reasons for my anxious constitution. I thought of the Tachiagari… and the strange, sorrowful boy. I though of the anti-anxiety pills I had taken before coming out this evening and every other morning and night besides. I thought of the futility of my existence, my diagnosed depression and too many evenings spent alone and cold in my single bed. He was waiting for me to speak, his thumb rubbing tender circles into my inside elbow as though he were gently persuading me. I swallowed, trying not to let myself be caught in his eyes again.

"There's… so much." I said, staring straight ahead. It was a little hard to seem disinterested when Muraki's shoulder obscured the space into which I was trying to gaze. "Everything's caving in around me at the moment. And you," I glared at him from the corner of my eyes. "You invite me here to dinner and I turn up, despite my better sense and how do you greet me? With that snide, indifferent attitude! Considering everything you've put me through, you should be damn grateful I even went to that much of an effort, buddy!"

Well, no matter how I put it, it still sounded childish. Muraki would have been fully justified if he chose to laugh in my face but he did none of that. He didn't even smile at my tone. His thumb continued to caress my arm, his free hand coming up to stroke my shoulder.

"Is that how it looked to you?" he asked, his voice very gentle. "In that case, I must ask that you forgive me. I fear the expression was not appropriate and this is due to the fact that I was not prepared for your arrival at all, Tsuzuki-san. I was surprised. Pleasantly at that. For a moment I… hmm… how embarrassing this is for me to admit but… I truly did not know what to say. I was speechless. I did not articulate myself very well. I apologize."

Ah… well that made sense I supposed. I stared up at him, looking for anything that might indicate he was lying or omitting certain truths. Muraki had always been brilliant at maintaining his poker face, so I don't know what I hoped to achieve with this. He seemed genuine enough. He smiled slightly, both thumbs rubbing warm patches up across my arms. The night was starting to feel a little less cold and not just on the area's of my body that he was touching either. It was sickening this effect he had on me.

"I thought perhaps… you were angry that I looked so… grungy…" I spat out at last. "Not that I particularly care what you think but-"

Muraki's hand was suddenly on the back of my neck. He angled my chin upwards, moving his hand around so that his nails touched my right cheek and forced our eyes to meet. The moon was suspended directly behind him in the sky, giving him the appearance of some ethereal angel of the darkness. Beautiful and deadly.

The white rose that had never been trimmed from birth. Never grown to the boundaries of another's expectation of beauty. Under no mortal control, no scrutiny or constrictions. Muraki bloomed beneath the light of the moon, thorns hidden lest one stumble upon the rose in carelessness.

"Oh Tsuzuki-san… you are truly naïve, are you not?" He asked. Then, without waiting for a reply: "I made sure the restaurant was empty tonight because I could not bear the thought of others looking at you, when for once you came to me of your own free will. No matter how you are dressed, those all around you desire you as soon as they lay eyes on you. I couldn't have that."

My face flushed a little as he elicited a soft sigh of pleasure, leaning his face down close to me. He parted his lips invitingly, allowing them to barely touch my own. He held himself back with inhuman restraint murmuring an indistinguishable sound in his throat as I shivered beneath his touch.

"Our night." He whispered, using his hand to angle my face upwards slightly. The weight of his lips upon my own increased as though he were intent to direct the kiss into existence rather than enforce it purposefully. This action of slow and inevitable consummation made the experience that much more tempting. I growled in protest, twisting my face to the side and only succeeding in brushing the entire length of our lips together. My face went even redder as I shamefully acknowledged that I wanted him. Physically, at least. You'd almost have to be mad not to be attracted to Muraki on the basis of his physical appearance. If things kept progressing this way, I had a feeling something very bad was going to happen. Dammit! Where the hell was Watari when I needed him?!

Watari

Since you asked, I was actually standing behind the door keeping an eye on the two of you. I don't know what you expected me to do about it though. I was only asked to leap into action if Muraki was causing trouble. I couldn't possibly define his advancements on you as being particularly troublesome, since you didn't seem to be struggling all that much-

Tsuzuki

Dammit! Why don't you just admit you're a coward?!

Muraki didn't seem to mind that I had altered the course of his kiss and had instead put his face close to my neck. His hand found placement in the center of my back, pushing my body upward as he inhaled the visible skin of my shoulder. His brilliant silver eyes closed briefly as if to evaluate my scent. He exhaled slowly, his breath hot on my flesh. I gasped as his tongue darted out and lightly lapped the hallow of my neck.

"Muraki…" I hissed. He pressed one finger delicately against my lips as though to persuade me not to ruin the moment.

"You smell enchanting…" He whispered, softly kissing the patch of skin before my ear. "Wherever you go you stand out from the crowd. Like a butterfly in a roomful of moths."

I had a sudden, waning vision of two butterflies locked in a beguiling pattern of intercourse outside of a window. Suspended permanently in an eternal sunset.

Muraki, apparently satisfied for the time being, released his hold on my body, much to my relief. The calm did not last for long as three seconds later he had snagged my hand in his own and was gently leading me back into the warmth of the main room. I watched from the corner of my eye as Watari moved flawlessly into place behind us, his amber eyes trained resolutely on the center of Muraki's back. I pick fun, but I knew that if he tried anything, Watari would have acted in a second to whisk me out of the insidious doctors' clutches.

At least… I hoped he would.

We threaded our way through the rose crowned tables until we reached the bar. The barman, a middle aged man with graying hair smiled warmly as we approached; setting aside the glass he had been cleaning.

"What will it be?" He asked, addressing Muraki off of the cuff. He typically ordered a bottle of champagne. Not an altogether expensive or pretentious selection either. This pleased me for some reason or another, though I couldn't really explain why. I guess I just felt more comfortable the less formal things were. I watched Watari lick his lips sadly and take a dejected seat at one of the tables, head hanging low. To remain covert meant that he couldn't drink. It would look kind of suspicious if a glass of Akita gin were to start pouring into an unseen orifice from mid-air, not to mention it would slow his wits about him were Muraki to attempt anything. That was something I did not need. Watari trying to drunkenly rescue me. He couldn't even rescue himself from the wall of the Ninja Temple.

Muraki's hand on my arm drew me to one of the tables overlooking the terrace. I reached over to pull my chair out, when he suddenly slapped it away. Instead, he drew the chair away from the table and indicated I sit with a sweep of his hand.

"Please," he said to my stunned expression. "You are my guest tonight. Let me do all the worrying for you."

Easier said then done. How was he supposed to concern himself over himself? He couldn't worry for me. That would imply that he did not trust himself and Muraki had always struck me as someone who knew exactly what he was doing. Nevertheless, I accepted his momentary chivalry and sat down, very aware of the barman's eyes on us the whole time. 'Yes,' I thought, 'I get that we must look relatively gay right now.'

Muraki proceeded around to his side of the table and slid into his seat with cat like agility. He placed the long stemmed glasses on the table and then proceeded to unwind the wrapping and wire from the opening of the bottle. Once they were discarded he removed the cork by holding it steady and then twisting the bottle out from beneath it. It took only three twists for him to be done with it. I gave a sarcastic little clap.

"Congrats Muraki," I said as he began to pour the wine. "Your mother must be so proud that you've mastered cork removal."

I noticed a twitch appear in his upper eyelid and then he suddenly set the bottle down hard on the table, so hard the glasses shook. Clearly I had said something I ought not to. After a minute or so, he regained his composure and began to steadily fill my glass. I glanced to the side. Watari was in limbo; his buttocks off of the seat, his legs still hooked beneath the table. He'd seen Muraki's agitation also.

"For future reference, Tsuzuki-san…" The voice was cold. Dangerous. "I would prefer it if you would avoid mentioning my mother, especially with such cynicism in your tone."

I'd clearly broached a very sensitive place, even more so than the fat jokes I'd been making the night before. I lowered my head, feeling acutely embarrassed despite everything that Muraki had done to my emotional state in the past. I wasn't like him though. I hated to see people hurt by things I said or did.

"I'm sorry." I said quietly. Despite the tone of my voice, Muraki seemed to take this the way it may seem if I was not eternally concerned with maintaining my furious disposition with him. The wet patch he had left on my shoulder only gave me further reason to dissuade him with mockery and derision. It seemed strange to me when the doctor reached across the table and squeezed the fingers of my left hand. He seemed to be pointedly ignoring my right for reasons that were blatantly obvious. Though not expected, especially from him.

"It's all right. I didn't mean to startle you." He soothed, rubbing his thumb against my knuckles. I allowed him that much intimacy before I pulled my fingers away and set them firmly in my lap, folded together as some indication of my finality. Muraki merely smiled and finished filling my glass. He pushed it towards me.

"I do hope you deign to at least sample some of what I offer you tonight." He said as I tentatively wound my fingers around the glass stem. I brought it towards me quickly, like a bird snatching food away from the feet of a human. "Be it the food and wine I place before you, or my affections. I want you to understand that I am prepared to give you anything you desire, if only for the pleasure of your company. However long you wish to stay with me."

At the word 'affections' I felt the toe of his shoe come into contact with my calf. It was not a harsh tap, but rather a growing pressure that escalated as he trailed it higher and then back down, stroking evocatively and still able to smile at me across the table. In complete control. I tried to scoot my chair back a little but Muraki acted swiftly, his foot swooping down to hook around the chair leg and pull it back until I was pressed right up against the table, caged in-between its' corner and the back of the seat. His face moved in close to me, a small smile permeating across those plush lips of his.

"Why Tsuzuki-san, whatever are you in such a rush for? We haven't even ordered the entrée's yet." One long hand slid beneath the table cloth and I shuddered as I felt it run up the back of my knee, gently caressing the skin at the very crease before sensually tracing the forward part of my thigh that was pressed to the chair. My words shot from between my teeth like bullets.

"What makes you think you have the right to put your filthy hands on me?!" I hissed, reaching out to grab him by the front of his suit. His expression not changing, his other hand burst forward and I found the pressure point between my thumb and index finger. He pressed so tightly I collapsed face down on the table in a moan of agony. "You… b-bastard!! How- how DARE you?!"

"How dare I?" Muraki asked metaphorically as the hand beneath the table came to rest on my upper thigh. "Forgive me. I didn't realize that by coming here I was inclined to keep my hands to myself. That curse I took back off of the boy has caused me terrible discomfort Tsuzuki-san. As per our agreement, you are to be in close proximity to me so that I am able to sate the desire to kill and inflict harm."

"You…. You never said… anything about-"

"Oh yes, I almost forgot. With you everything has to be so particular." Muraki sighed to let me know just what a nuisance I was. "Let me spell it out for you; my desire for you is as passionate and as brutal as I am in murder. I will not restrain myself from those urges, ultimately because I have no desire to starve myself of something I want and also because it allows the curse to run amuck throughout my body. I don't think you want that, do you Tsuzuki-san? This time… it really will be your fault, if I am unable to help myself…"

I wanted to kick him in the shin but somehow I knew that Muraki would find a way to counter that too. Watari was sneaking up to my side, his hand edging toward one of the silver forks lying near my elbow. Short of stabbing Muraki's real eye out with it, I didn't know what good that was going to do. Ultimately, as much as I hated to admit it, the doctor was right. He had done his part for Hisoka and now it was as though I had renounced my end of the bargain. Muraki might have hurt Watari if the other guardian revealed his presence. Trying to make it seem directed at the doctor, I muttered 'No' my eyes facing toward Watari. Then I looked up at Muraki.

"Muraki… you're right. I apologize for being a nuisance."

Watari's look was truly priceless. His hand retreated from the fork but he remained close by, in case Muraki continued his onslaught.

But the doctor had made his point. Now I had announced my surrender, the smile truly came to light on his face. The sinister edge was gone and his visible eye creased to follow the sideways slope of his head as he gazed adoringly at me. The hand on my leg appeared back atop the table and lifted my own entrapped fingers to his face. Closing his eyes, he guided the aching area between my thumb and index finger between his lips and gently sucked on it. My breath caught in my throat and I focused on controlling my breaths as they threatened to get heavy. Muraki's tongue lapped gently at the abused crease until the pain had all but subsided. My lack of sexual experience became apparent to me at least, as I felt a great flush of heat slide through my loins at this sensuous contact. All at once I wanted to shove him away in revulsion, whilst an equally loud part of me screamed for more. Watari pulled a face and respectfully made his exit, trotting back towards his seat across the room. Muraki, unaware of our invisible audience, distributed a small nip to the sensitive flesh before tracing his lips up my index finger. I watched as the long digit disappeared into his lips, sliding across the hot wet expanse of his tongue, the nail grazing the back of his throat as he took as much as possible in. His lips were now suctioned just above my knuckle and as he moved them up and down my finger, nursing it from within by his tongue, I became aware of the intended promise of this emblematic action.

A promise of sorts. Another invitation. 'Come play Asato Tsuzuki.' His eyes were closed as he gripped my hand hard, licking my finger with little to no restraint. I felt my face go red as I glanced over and saw the bartender doing his best to ignore the situation. The sight of an esteemed doctor performing symbolic finger oral on the grungy male stranger must have ranked pretty high on his list of; 'Things-that-couldn't-possibly-be-more-fucked-up.' I knew that this should concern me; his opinion should have mattered. But Muraki was doing too god a job of distracting me. He knew how to work that divine mouth of his, how to play my strings to produce the tune that aspired him the most. His lips slowly slid off of the very tipped curve of my nail, though he did deposit one last kiss to my finger pad, locking his full lips around it before releasing the skin with a the wet, yet highly provocative sound a kiss makes. My entire being shuddered from spiritual form to physical. There was a foreign feeling between my legs, a feeling that did not belong in an establishment like this. I had the bare beginnings of an erection.

Amazingly enough I began to wonder if Muraki too had one. I couldn't forget that insistent feeling on my inside thigh the other night when he had pulled me against him, so he was not above letting that weakness show. Still, it was going to look slightly obvious if I got up and went around to the other side of the table. I clenched my fist as though closing around an inanimate object, my thoughts racing.

"You… seriously got off on that, didn't you?" I managed to pant vehemently as he distributed a small kiss to my knuckles. Muraki smiled.

"Yes, I did." He admitted, without the least bit of embarrassment. He kissed my hand once more and then a cunning smile flashing across his face. "Maybe you need proof of that too, hmm? You don't seem to trust my words all that well, Tsuzuki-san."

I snatched my hand away, blushing. "I'll take your word for it this time!" I garbled.

Muraki merely chuckled and I cast a quick sort of 'Help me!' expression at Watari. He was staring out the window to his left, a distant faraway look on his face. Great. He was off in Kyoto with his Konsai accent, shrimp poh-tatoes and swordsman pimps. There was no hope for me now.

Unless of course I got sick enough that I threw up on Muraki and completely turned him off…

That was it! Time to do what I do best! Get drunk!

I took a sip of my drink and felt the burgeoning warmth of the wine spread through me. This plan was foolproof, as long as I got sick before I got to the amorous stage where I'd be willing to let Muraki take me over the table. I pretty much felt that way about everyone after a few drunks. More than once Watari and I had established that we were soul mates and we were going to run away to Osaka to live happily ever after. Fortunately, his good sense of humor meant that he was able to put these embarrassing incidents behind him without any weird feelings between us. Even the time we'd tried kissing to see if there was any chemistry between us. Unfortunately, there's plenty of chemistry when you're pickled and in a frightening turn of events we'd almost ended up making love. We'd been like two teenagers fumbling around in the basement of their parents' house, trying to figure out where everything was and give one another a free education in the process. That was in the earliest days of his employment however, when we were both going through some rough stages. Since then we've patched things up but it got pretty uncomfortable there for a while.

That's why I had to be careful. It was spew or die. Well, to be accurate, spew or be screwed. I took a hearty gulp of my wine and glanced back at Watari. He was yawning silently and checking his watch. The poor guy had to be up at the crack of dawn to journey to Kyoto yet he'd still agreed to come here to help me out. I suppose I'm pretty lucky to have friends like that.

Muraki sipped his drink and ran a finger around the rim of the glass once, provoking all sorts of images in my head again. The glass sang at his touch but of course when I tried to do it, no noise was heard at all. Muraki nearly laughed. I could tell because the corner of his lips twitched.

"You're a delightful creature to observe, Tsuzuki-san." He cooed reaching out to cup my chin. This sudden intimacy he had with my face was becoming something of a bad habit of his. "As lovely as it is to see your displays of power, what is even more adorable is when you fail. That determined expression… your beautiful eyes dancing and spilling tears from the corner. Compelling my darling… simply put; breathtaking. I feel almost inclined to drag you into the restroom and take you against the wall."

Hoo boy. I took another belt from my drink. "Uh… probably not the best idea. I have a bad back."

Muraki looked delighted with my comeback. His smile grew wider. "I'm tempted to ask what from, Tsuzuki-san. But I'm sure it would serve only make me jealous."

Shit. Was there anything that this guy couldn't turn into something sexual?! I got the feeling I had a greater hope of discovering the meaning of life, than looking for one thing that wouldn't turn Muraki on. I'm sure a shrimp potato would have turned him on under the right circumstances.

Muraki was staring at me very intently, the one eye I could only ever see boring holes directly into the pupil of my own. I was feeling somewhat uncomfortable even more so when his other hand cupped the crown of my head, stroking my hair gently. He wasn't wearing gloves that night, so there was nothing separating us. All contact was purely skin to skin and that much more intimate because of it. By removing his gloves, it was almost as if Muraki was saying he was ready to accept and be accepted completely, with no more thinly veiled lies and half truths between us. At least, that's how I saw it. I may be reading too deeply into things as per usual.

The silence was excruciating. I tried to break the tension by suddenly blowing the hair on his face astray, exposing his fake eye momentarily. Muraki was unperturbed by this disruption and had moved the hand on my chin onto the swell of my cheek and started stroking it. I couldn't understand what he saw in me. A man, who utterly despised weakness, was obsessed with a weak creature like me. He told me once that love and adoration was nothing more than a by-product of one's infatuation. An illusion. Yet he told me unashamedly that he was in love with me, calling me his beloved. His loved one.

A contradiction. Hypocrisy. There truly was little difference between us. I'd just become better at hiding it than he had. Partly because I wanted to and he did not.

Which one of us was the liar? Which one of us was truly the hypocrite? The one who accepted beyond all morality or the one who refused to accept because he wanted to be accepted so badly?

I guess that was the question that I truly wanted answering. That would allow me to continue my existence in peace, if I could finally lay to rest my doubts.

"Would you like to order an entrée, Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki finally asked. It was a relief to hear him speak, even though his voice had always been a little odd. I was so uncomfortable that a demon attack would have been more than welcome at this point. My finger was still shining with Muraki's saliva.

"Yeah…" I said. "I'd like to get something to eat."

XxXxXxXxXx

When the bill came it was all I could do not to collapse in my chair. Muraki had spent more on my appetizer's alone than I spent on sweet food in a week. The mean side of me was content to let him empty the dregs of his wallet on my account but I was in for a shock if I thought Muraki's supply of money was likely to run out at some point. At company dinners the arrival of the bill was usually heralded by a groan of despair or in Tatsumi's case a trip to the manager to launch a verbal complaint. Loudly. I was used to seeing men fall apart at the seams over their pricy dinner bill but not Muraki. He seemed perfectly content to yield to my requests for all the foreign food I could jam into my mouth at one time. I went for the most pricy and expensive things on the list, in hopes it would dissuade Muraki after he witnessed what a big spender I was. It was the Greek-style prawn salad and fish, mushroom and noodle soup for the entrée, followed by the Tagliatelle Carbonara and Honey chicken. Just when I thought I was done with the main course, I saw something else I wanted and peeped at Muraki like a baby bird until he ordered it for me. After I'd shoveled down a large plate of noodles with pork and vegetables and pasta with mushrooms and Cabanossi, the desert menu was somewhat tentatively placed before me for my inspection.

If it wasn't an ugly sight by that point, then it certainly became one in the minutes following.

The sociopath doctor was cowering in his seat as the dessert dishes were presented before me one by one. Three pieces of apple pie, chocolate cinnamon kisses, chocolate trifle, peach cobbler with custard, boysenberry soufflé, Norwegian egg cream, Apricot and Cointreau Cheesecake and last but not least some Chocolate Pistachio Cake with Pistachio Crème Anglaise. At the outset of each course, Muraki insisted on purchasing a new bottle of wine that complimented the food I was eating. This was nice, pricy as it was, but the prick completely foiled my plan to get quietly drunk and vomit on his shoes by removing the previous bottles of wine even before I'd finished one glass of them. I would have fumed at him but I was too busy enjoying my dinner to concern myself with complaining.

Enjoying the food I mean. The company could have been better. But I suppose alternative company such as Tatsumi, Hisoka or Watari would have meant less food for me. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been able to make such a pig of myself and not worry about the consequences later on.

Somehow this thought brought me back to reality and I began to wonder exactly what price Muraki might ask of me in return for his generosity. My mouth was full and I still had a half a plate left of my Chocolate Pistachio cake when I realized my gluttony was the perfect excuse for Muraki to bargain with me later. I looked over at him and he smiled at me, his own small serving of Viennese Cake untouched.

Shit. I'd suddenly lost my appetite. I placed the fork down, swallowing the food in my mouth and realizing it was too late to regurgitate his advantage over me. Muraki's smile grew wider but it was moderate expression, as though he were fondly amused by my savage attentions to food.

"Have you had enough yet, Tsuzuki-san?"

I cleared my throat uncomfortably and I took a heady sip of my wine. It was some sickly sweet desert blend, more tangy than it was fruity. Not exactly my style of beverage. I preferred dry wines to sweet, despite my affinity for saccharine produce.

"If I ate anymore I would undoubtedly burst." I reported, patting my swollen belly as verification. It was looking suitably Buddha like and I wondered if I rubbed it I might get good luck. I needed as much as I could scrape together especially on a night like this.

If Muraki was relieved at my surrender he did a good job of hiding it. During the course of the dinner he'd only ordered the Whiting Turbons as an entrée, sirloin steak with Dijonnaise sauce for the main meal and the so far unattended sweet by his right elbow. Watari unsurprisingly had gotten so bored just sitting around contemplating his bellybutton that he had taken to hovering over the table whilst we were eating. It was kind of distracting, not to mention risky especially at one point when he'd been levitating just behind Muraki and some of his long blonde hair had rolled off his shoulder and nearly swept along the doctors neck. I'd made a discreet time hearted gesture of disapproval which Muraki took personally but was able to get Watari to behave himself at least moderately. He'd spent the remainder of the meal hovering behind my shoulder, salivating down my neck. I'd told him to eat before coming out tonight, so I can't see why this was so torturous for him.

Muraki beamed pleasantly and took a sip of his own wine. "How charming you are Tsuzuki-san. I'm so pleased that you were open to my philanthropy tonight. There is truly no price I would be unwilling to pay if only it meant I could watch you indulge in my presence. To let your guard down."

Watari faked a big yawn to my right and pretended to stick his finger down his throat. I was tempted to throw the remainder of my dessert at him but that would have just led to some objectionable circumstances. And that was just Watari having a fit over his clothes. I didn't even want to imagine how Muraki would react.

I gestured at the Viennese Cake near the doctors' elbow. "You gonna eat that?"

He immediately picked it up and held it out to me. "Would you like it?"

"No, no!" I quickly waved my hands in assurance. "I don't want it for myself, I'm stuffed! I just wondered why you ordered it, if you weren't planning on eating it. Is money really no object to you?"

Muraki smiled congenially and placed both hands around his wine glass, watching the liquid lap against the sides with unwavering scrutiny.

"Well," he said. "I was planning on eating it, but then I remembered what you said to me last night." His eyes bore into my own, the movement of his head so sudden I jerked visibly in my seat. "Unlike a Shinigami, Tsuzuki-san, if I were to indulge quite so readily as you, my body would fail to maintain its' agreeable build. I wouldn't want to get any fatter now, would I?"

Oh so he was still sore about that was he? I felt my brows pulled into gravity over my eyes, giving the amethyst orbs the dark look I was not renowned for. Whilst we were eating, we'd barely spoken and Muraki had done well to keep his hands to himself. But now his hands and my mouth were free and it was time I charged in with some questions and throw the first punch. In a manner of speaking.

"Come off it, Muraki. I know you're not actually concerned with your weight." I snapped, pressing both my hands down on the table surface, leaning my body forward to seem more imposing. A tactic that never seemed to work with Muraki. Whether I was standing up or leaning forward, the height or proximity never seemed to concern the passive doctor in the slightest. He was far too self assured in his own remarkable capabilities. Following Kyoto I thought he would at least have been slightly inclined to respect me but no. He was still as confident as ever. "I want to know what your aim is this time. No more innocents are to die at your hands again, do you hear me? I won't allow it!"

"Well… then we are in agreement." The platinum haired man said tipping the wine glass back and draining the golden liquid in one fluid swallow. His Adam's apple barely moved in evidence of the action. "You came here because I asked you, Tsuzuki-san. But for once you did so not because I had you at a disadvantage, but because I extended a small offering in proof of my intentions. As such, I have seen a remarkable change in our interaction already. You contentedly drink and eat in my presence, without concerning yourself with the people I involve in order to court you. I am pleased at this modification. I trust that you too are pleased that the boy is no longer troubled by my curse? Hmm?"

I didn't answer him. I simply folded my hands atop the bridge of my nose and glared out over the ridges the joints formed.

Muraki studied me from behind his delicate wire framed glasses. He reached out and ran his hand up the side of my face, trailing his knuckles across the tiny vein in my temple. "The process is already in motion, Tsuzuki-san. We now have an arrangement that we can both benefit from. One hand washes the other, as they say. In exchange for my good behavior in sparing the lives of those precious humans you hold so dear, you will come to me when I ask of you. Your conscience and your responsibility will not weigh you down quite so heavily and I will be spared the torment of the curses castigation. What say you? Is it not a suitable agreement?"

From out of the corner of my eye I tried to catch Watari's expression. He was watching the doctor with a thoughtful and non-judgmental expression, hands wedged deep into his coat pockets. He saw me looking and shrugged.

Muraki closed his eyes. "Tsuzuki-san… please do me the courtesy of making this decision on your own without consulting your irksome friend."

Watari came crashing to the floor. Muraki's expression didn't change a jot as the blond became visible and his ruffled head appeared beside the table.

"You've known I was here the whole time?!" He squawked. Muraki pulled off his glasses and started to clean them as he nodded. "How?!"

"Well for one, you are a considerably loud mouth breather. I could hear you when you were hovering behind my shoulder." The doctor informed us as Watari shuffled to my side and hid behind my chair. "Also, I can see into Four Fields of Sixth Sense Penetration. When I checked the room for any evidence of spiritual interference, what do I see but some blond haired irritant playing guardian to the Guardian of Death."

Watari straightened up, attempting to look as bold as possible. I could see he was still shaken by being caught out but he was doing his best to remedy the situation before resorting to the fireman's lift in order to remove me from impending danger.

"Well I'm sorry, doctor," He said more tartly than I think he intended. "But if you expected me to let Tsuzuki come here on his own to see the man who was willing to use him in a genetic clone experiment, than you're clearly not as bright as I took you to be! What do you take us Shinigami for anyway? We're not nearly so sloppy as you, sir."

My hand closed around the fuda in my right pocket as I awaited Muraki's reaction. Clearly he was not going to like that Watari had turned up at all, never mind the way he had just spoken to him. My body tensed and I prepared myself for the impending fight. Watari's posture beside me was extremely tense, his body language signaling his preparation for defensive survival rather than outright offense. I did notice however that his fingers had closed around one of the serviettes on the table. I had no idea how he thought a serviette was going to help, unless of course Muraki was knocked for six by origami.

The white haired doctor relaxed back into his seat and raised a hand in the air. My muscles flexed as he snapped his fingers and before I knew it, I was out of my seat and hurdling the table. My mind wasn't working at normal speed and the only purpose I could think of to prevent the summoning was to sink my teeth into the fleshy part of his hand. Which I did.

Muraki stared up at me incredulously.

"I was going to ask that the bartender… bring us another glass…" He said slowly, raising an eyebrow at the slight trickle of blood that began to run down his wrist. I was holding onto his arm with both hands, my teeth piercing the flesh of his palm in lockjaw. "Tell me… Watari-san, is it not? Are you partial to Viennese Cake?"

~ EC ~

Next Chapter: Okay, that's the new chapter five done! Hope you liked the tidy up, kindly readers. By all means, proceed on to chapter six for the revamped return to Muraki's haunted house! See ya there!