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

6. Muraki: Inutterable Disonance

Dark Adaptation.

DISCLAIMER: Yami no Matsuei owns me. Not the other way around.

Note: This chapter is from Muraki's POV! (I don't know why I feel the need to keep telling everyone that. They can read Hickok. See, Muraki's name is right down there you don't need to tell them up here!) I did actually intend for this to be a short chapter but being in the pervy pricks shoes was just too fun and it actually ended up longer than expected!

I've just given this chapter a general tidy up, added the song and the quote and all that but no major scenes have been added. A new chapter will be slotted into place following this one though but that still needs a little fine tweaking… I hope everyone will be patient with me and maybe enjoy just looking over this chapter one more time! Come on; you know you love being in Muraki's crazy ass shoes as much as I do!

Inutterable Disonance

Breathe in, breathe out

Tell me all of your doubt

And everybody bleeds this way

Just the same

Breathe in, breathe out

Move on and break down

If everyone goes away

I would stay

We push and pull

And I fall down sometimes

And I'm not letting go

You hold the other line

'Cause there is a light

In your eyes, in your eyes

Hold on and hold tight

From out of your sight

And everything keeps movin' on, movin' on

Hold on, hold tight

Make it through another night

And everyday, there comes a song with the dawn

We push and pull

And I fall down sometimes

I'm not letting go

You hold the other line

'Cause there is a light

In your eyes, in your eyes

There is a light

In your eyes, in your eyes

Breathe in and breathe out

Breathe in and breathe out

Breathe in and breathe out

Breathe in and breathe out

Look left, look right

To the moon in the night

And everything under the stars

Is in your arms

'Cause there is a light

In your eyes, in your eyes

And there is a lie

In your eyes, in your eyes

There is a light

In your eyes, in your eyes

There is a light

In your eyes, in your eyes

~ Breathe in, breathe out ~ Mat Kearney

X

"There are so many little dyings that it doesn't matter which of them is death." ~ Kenneth Patchen

Muraki

Tsuzuki-san glanced backward toward the other Shinigami and then leant in close to whisper in my ear.

"You're not angry?"

I looked down at him, pretending to marvel at being asked such a question. Of course I was not nearly that ignorant.

"No. Should I be? I don't expect you to trust my words alone, Tsuzuki-san. As long as you are comfortable, I do not mind him being here at all."

The truth of course, is that I did mind the other Shinigami's presence immensely. Not for who he was, you understand. For al intents and purposes, this Watari-san seemed a perfectly agreeable nuisance. He remained open minded about the whole arrangement and even chatted heartily over the Veinnese Cake and wine I had offered him, easing the former tension between Tsuzuki-san and myself ever so slightly. Following dinner, I had invited the dark haired beauty to take a walk with me through the streets of Tokyo, where I would inauspiciously attempt to lead him in the direction of my home which was located not too far from the restaurant. I had chosen the establishment specifically for its preferred location and proximity to the mansion in which I lived. I was certain Tsuzuki-san would have blatantly refused to get into a car with me, as it was some indication of my intent to take him onward to a destined location. By walking, the arrival at my home could almost seem accidental.

Though any plans I'd had at consummating my established arrangement with Tsuzuki-san would have to be put on hold, now that the illustrious Yutaka Watari had joined us. Ah, the indisputable third wheel. Still, I had to be thankful for the choice of back up Tsuzuki-san had chosen for himself that night. The secretary Tatsumi-san or the irritating boy would have never dared give credence to allowing the night to proceed as it did. Tsuzuki-san had obviously chosen Watari-san because he was less personally compromised on the matter. He was able to remain somewhat more impartial than the other two guardians.

The old Kazutaka Muraki would have solved such impertinences by simply removing the problem. I did not know what powers Watari-san wielded but from what I was able to sense in the Four Fields of Penetration I had access to, they were fairly passive and for the most part restrained. Unlike Tsuzuki-san's powers, which circulated inside of him like explosive nitrate, ready to erupt at the slightest waver in self-control. But killing the blond haired man this early on would only have injured my plans with Tsuzuki-san.

I needed to have the ebony haired man trust me. That would make it easier to eventually take him as my partner. I could not kill anymore, not if I hoped to obtain the Shinigami as a willing mate. Raping him, I knew, would not sate my hunger for him. Not like it would to have him beneath me, wanting me, calling my name and seeing me alone in those fleeting passionate moments. That was true power. True dominance. To have him submit willingly. To eventually take him, only to reveal later that once I had obtained that which I had been craving, I would be free of everything that made me weak.

Breaking him with his own guilty yearning for me was the only true way I would ever be free of him.

Him… both of them.

I had to be patient. There was no point in losing control of my emotions now, such as I had in Kyoto. That had been my own fault. I'd been content to lose myself in the shadows of insanity that had flickered at the corners of my mind like a candle flame in a dark room. The pleasure of finally exacting my long awaited revenge had turned me into something that spun out of even my control. A madman is someone who cannot contest their own actions. My entire life I have rested easy at least with the confirmation that I could be no mad man. I was something far, far worse.

I knew precisely what I had done with every life I took. I had been in control, my actions never frenzied nor rushed. Every death a perfect symphony of silver blade, precision and lingering fleeting glimpses of comprehension in the unwary victims face. Until Kyoto, I'd been able to keep my practice within the confines of my mental restrictions, owing nothing to the human emotion of instability which would have seen any other man slicing the flesh to shreds and stabbing many more times than was necessary. I was a murderer. But I was also a doctor. Death for my victims would have been relatively painless when it came to stabbing. I very rarely missed the main arteries or vital organs; unless I had some specific purpose to cause the person discomfort and then perhaps I would align the knife a little further atop the killing blow.

I would not think to call myself an assassin, regardless of how proficient I am in the art of killing. You'd be pressed to find someone more suited to ending lives with such ease and aptitude. Even knowing the pain it left behind, having my own family killed by Saki seventeen years ago; my plan for revenge justified everything I did. At least, in my own mind it did. I cared of no one's pain but my own. And honestly… I still do not care.

But I needed to be practical. Now was the time to exercise restraint if I hoped to win Tsuzuki-san over. If I was as clever as I took myself to be, then there should be no difficulties in ascertaining and enacting the suitable course of actions towards others that he would find appropriate. Now was the time for anticipation, imagining the world through the eyes of that innocent, naïve Shinigami I'd let myself fall for so mindlessly. To see myself as he saw me and to envision the ways in which I could reinvent myself to his liking.

One of the things that became clear was that I was unlikely to win favors by pushing his guardian accomplice into the path of an oncoming locomotive.

Besides, the blond had remained inoffensively respectful of his place in the situation. After a brief discussion at the door, in which I was forced to remind Tsuzuki-san of our little 'tit-for-tat' principle, we'd set off into the night, his arm linked through mine and our contrary colored trench coats lashing in the wind behind is. Watari-san had followed at a walk, a good affirmable distance behind us, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of an extravagant looking coat. He didn't converse with us, unless he was invited to do so and seemed to be lost in his own thoughts anyway. This arrangement had suited me thus far and I was inclined to permit his continued company without contest if he were to remain as impartial to the evenings proceedings as he had so far demonstrated.

I lowered my mouth close to Tsuzuki-san's ear, assuring that my lips touched the shell as I spoke. The reaction was obvious in the distributed shivers that run through his body, owing nothing I imagined, to the cold wind sliding past us.

"Just how often can I expect this… Watari-san to be joining us on our outings?" I asked, pulling the other man up sharply before an intersection. Distracted as he was, he would have walked directly into the traffic.

Tsuzuki-san's brows were firm set over his eyes, the childlike illustration of his perpetual innocence. I never tire of that expression.

"All I can say is, you'd better get used to him." The brunette sniffed, glancing up the road at the oncoming car headlights. I heard Watari stop behind us, his shoes scuffing the ground impatiently.

"Well…" I turned to look at the blond man, whom I observed, was standing pointedly closer to Tsuzuki than he was to me. "You won't have to get too used to me. I have an impending murder case in Kyoto starting tomorrow but you can be damn sure I'll be keeping an eye on you just as soon as I get back!"

I ignored the finger he had pointed at me, distracted by what he had just said. From what I knew, Kyoto was a fairly quiet district on the Judgment Bureau's list, unless I happened to be in town that was. Tsuzuki seemed to cotton onto this at that very moment and turned to look at me, his expression dark.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about that now, would you doctor?"

I smiled and stuck my nose in the air. "Tsuzuki-san… owing to my fondness of you, I will choose to ignore the blatant inanity of that insolent question."

Rather than get darker, Tsuzuki-san's face now flushed and thin lines branched across the skin bellow his eyes to show that he was not pleased by my response. A common problem between us. We seemed to have problems communicating on some levels, a quandary easily rectified by bypassing conversation completely and letting our bodies do the talking but I failed to properly divulge this logic to the dear guardian. Whilst that man could spout morality from his lips like a pez dispenser he would never use them to his greater advantage. A shame but something I was willing to disclose some effort over.

"I don't see what makes it so stupid or insolent, Muraki." Tsuzuki snarled, his arm going rigid against the side of my body. "Considering that it was your best friend who asked us to come investigate."

This was certainly news to me. I hadn't spoken to Oriya since that last night in Kyoto, so I was somewhat out of the loop in regards to the happenings at the Kokakuro. I made a mental note to enquire into his reasoning for summoning the aid of the Shinigami, especially when one considered how fanatical the man was about his privacy and locked my eye on Tsuzuki.

"Well, there you have it." I imparted. "Oriya Mibu is my oldest and closest friend. His loyalty to me goes above and beyond the call of duty. If I had committed those murders he would have surely swept them under the carpet as he has done time and time again." I let those words hang in the air for a moment, quite aware of how sinuous they were, before continuing. "If I had killed anyone in Kyoto, Oriya would not have bothered to call you in to inspect it. Such is his nobility; he would not have endangered me willingly. Therefore, do you not think it's safe to assume that perhaps there is someone else in Japan capable of murder besides myself? I know it's a stretch but…"

Tsuzuki waved a hand. "Okay, I see your point."

The blond haired man was smiling softly. "I must say doctor… you are certainly fortunate to have a friend like that willing to stand by you. Most people wouldn't have the decorum to maintain ties with a cold hearted murderer like yourself."

I laughed softly and flashed him a smile. "I admire your nerve, Watari-san. Yes Oriya has always been an… unusual friend. His decorum, as you so tastefully put it, is something to be marveled at."

The lights changed. We crossed the road.

Watari trotted up to my side. "Yet you exploit that. You take advantage of it, like you did in Kyoto hoping to buy yourself some time."

What was I supposed to say to that? I tilted my head in order to expose my fake right eye, fully intending to intimidate the other man in doing so.

"Watari-san, I do hate to be blunt; but my relationship with Oriya Mibu is of no concern to you." I said coldly. I could tell from his hardening facial expression that he meant to protest but Tsuzuki-san made a soft dictation with his head and the other man slowly backed off, trailing a good few feet behind us again.

I leaned close to my companion.

"He has a lot to say for himself, that one." I said. "Tell him to be careful. I've eaten men like him for breakfast."

Tsuzuki's face turned to something like irony and he chuckled a little. "That does not surprise me." He said quietly. "That does not surprise me at all."

The lights and sounds of the city were becoming few and far between. I raised my head, spying the apex of the mansion emerging above the darkness like a search beacon. Wouldn't be too long now…

Unfortunately I had not calculated on Tsuzuki recognizing the streets surrounding the mansion. The previous night he had left in such a state after hearing of my resident ghost, I naturally assumed that he would pay little to no attention to his environment. I'd known that the man was fearful of specters, being born around the Meiji era which was a typically supernatural period of history. Or, to be specific, the time in which the paranormal was looked upon with verifiable trepidation and fear. Yet, I had failed to accommodate the extremity of his paranoia, which was personified the moment he laid eyes on the mansion.

"Oh… Hell no."

"Whatever's the matter Tsuzuki-san? Why, your body has gone as stiff as the branches of a willow tree." I remarked, stepping up behind him and gripping his upper arms in my hands. I lowered my mouth to whisper in his ear, making sure he knew full well my implied intent. "Why not let me work some of that tension out?"

The brunette struggled in my hold, an expression of mild panic materializing on his face. "Going into any house with you would be bad for my health, let alone a haunted one! Let go of me! I'm going home!"

"Now… what kind of host would I be if I sent you out into the night without at least offering the amenities of hospitality?" He wriggled dishearteningly in my grasp and I solved the issue by pulling him toward me, tilting his center of balance ever so slightly. It was just enough for me to seize control and by using the mass of my body as an advantage, I was able to twist about and thrust him against the surrounding wall, pinning his arms behind his back and jamming my right leg between his thighs. He grunted in dissent.

"Oh do relax Tsuzuki-san. I wouldn't want you to develop an aneurysm right here in the middle of the street. What would the neighbours make of that?" I murmured, arching my back objectively. The angle of my spine aspired to raise my hips against the pert buttocks of the other man, leaving nothing for him to misconstrue. Tsuzuki made a sound that was difficult to interpret. It was an insipid concoction of fervor and duplicate extended loathing, directed at both himself and I. I chuckled at his reaction, amused at his incapability to decipher his own physical yearnings from the guilt he perpetually exacted upon himself, as though it were some form of retribution for having human urges. It was pathetic. A child could have figured out how to manipulate one's own body against them. As he continued to struggle, I knelt my head slightly in order to capture the lobe of his ear between my lips. I languorously pressed my tongue against the erroneous flesh, before sliding my lips away making sure it made a noise. Proof of my desire. Proof of how he made me want him.

"Now then… you can be sure, I won't allow the terrible specter near you tonight, Tsuzuki-san…" I hissed to his stunned and stilled body. "You can rest assured that I am the most frightening thing in Tokyo tonight. The wraith doesn't dare encroach on me… most spiritual entities are wary to afford me plenty of breathing space." My hand trailed off of his pinned wrists and I used my long nails to gently brush the skin of his cheek. It would have been so easy to draw a single drop of blood but I restrained myself. "So… why not come in and have a drink with me? We didn't have much opportunity to talk over dinner and I think there are many things to discuss."

Whatever Tsuzuki's response had been to my offer was suddenly cut off by something white obscuring my vision. I barely had time to utter a confused nuance before the fluttery object had attached itself to my face. I released my hold on Tsuzuki to bring both hands up and tear at the overly affectionate article. My prize ducked away from me the instant my grip loosened.

"What the-?!" I pulled the white object off and examined it as it continued to flutter in my hand like a doomed bird. It was a serviette from the restaurant, the gold logo shining in the neighboring streetlight. I blinked at it obscurely for a moment before turning my attention back to Tsuzuki-san. He was standing behind the blond haired guardian, whose right hand was extended outwards palm up. I'd almost forgotten about him. Watari-san made a sudden darting gesture with his fingers and the serviette jumped out of my hand and reattached itself to my face. I ripped it off and threw it to the ground, where I proceeded to restrain it forcefully beneath my heel.

"What a typically bothersome and puerile power!" I snapped, not bothering to hide my irritation. Being stabbed was acceptable; vexed by the secretary's shadows reasonable, but being outsmarted by a napkin was just plain humiliating. "Watari-san; forgive me for being so blunt, but you are truly incommodious to a fault!"

The two men blinked at me.

"I'm not quite sure what he just said to me, but I am assuming that it was not flattering…" The blond remarked, scratching his head. He snapped his fingers and the serviette thankfully composed itself. "Muraki, I would not mind escorting Tsuzuki in to have a drink with you, but I must insist that you keep your Roman Hand syndrome and Russian fingers under control or else you will find that inanimate objects are going to form deep and emotional attachments to you. Some might even make an unlawful entry, if you catch my meaning?"

I couldn't say that it was as threatening as a shadow tsunami threatening to slice me into shreds. Even the tone in which the man had spoken failed to encompass anything other than his tireless cheerful façade. Regardless, I realized that it would simply be easier if I agreed to behave myself at least for the time being. It would certainly be a relief when the blond haired headache was rushed off to Kyoto however. Tsuzuki had a trademark difficulty of refuting my advancements, even with his Shinigami abilities and the aid of his Summons. Without the blond, it shouldn't take altogether too long to get him to fall into my hands.

If only I had some way of ensuring Watari-san would prolong his stay in Kyoto. Short of rushing on up there and dealing out a few corpses, that is.

The answer came to me whilst the three of us had seated ourselves in the main Living Room, drinking red wine, a favorite blend of mine from 1992. I watched Tsuzuki-san's reaction to the beverage religiously, noting every tiny detail of his mannerisms as though he were a specimen under my unwavering observation.

He was undoubtedly flawless in physical appearance. To regular human beings, unaware of the effects demonic genes cause when interbred amongst human DNA, he was marked by subtle aspects that made his appearance seem exotic; in an understated way. His purple eyes of course, were the major distinguishing trait of his demon heritage but there were other more discreet differences that I, as a physician, was able to discern. The curves of his lips were sharply sculpted, as though they were clay deftly tuned by the very tip of a knife. His bottom lip was slightly larger than his upper lip; which lent to me the very idealistic nature suited to the life Tsuzuki had chosen in his death. A thin, easily penetrable layer, defined by the stream of consciousness that eternally runs beneath all perception he entertains about who he is. A thin upper lip symbolized the charade of his human mockery; the lie he had been unable to present to the world and was instead turned to scorn. The larger lower lip, revealed his true self. Inescapable. The structure of ones jaw shows that the lower lip moves whilst the upper maintains for supportive purposes alone. Never changing, whilst the lower does change but must remain submissive to that which continually presses down upon it. As Tsuzuki was. The contradiction, the lie, the fake unexplainable mockery that shaped even his face to the suited nature of the being itself. I amused myself with these philosophical thoughts as I watched the wine wash across those soft inviting lips, as alluring to me as the blood of a thousand victims. Tiny droplets clung to the tinted pink skin and I had to forcefully forbid myself from taking advantage of the moment and removing the dark red droplets with my own lips.

Tsuzuki seemed hesitant to relax in my presence, but once he realized that he was going nowhere, he consented to resting back into the comfortable armchair across from me, the mauve fabric highlighted from the sides by the glow of the fire. It was a delicious imagery; utterly crafted to compliment the symmetry of the Shinigami's body. His intense amethyst eyes contained for the barest of moments the captured image of the dancing flames, presentable proof of the burning turmoil of his soul. Firelight to violet was undeniably becoming. And for moments at a time, those uncertain eyes would rake me, their vivid deep richness comparable to the blood of the plum.

He had an endearing arch of a nose, rather a cute snub or ski-slope than the virtually Roman nose I possessed. And at this moment I became grateful for Watari-sans presence because Tsuzuki-san seemed particularly entertained by the blonds piquant wit. It was the only chance I'd had since our meeting in Nagasaki, where I was able to see Tsuzuki smile in my presence. When he did, his entire face seemed to lift to match the corners of his mouth, a perfect curve that enticed the rest of his expression to follow suit. His eyes would raise, his cheeks would become fuller and the overall effect was one that was essentially relaxing. Ironic, because under normal circumstances, anyone making my Tsuzuki smile like that would have found themselves in a world full of disagreement. But I was not concerned that night. Despite their fond acquaintance, which suggested ease of informality outside of the Judgment Bureau, I did not feel threatened by the possibility of an intimate relationship between the pair.

Do not get me wrong. It wasn't that Yutaka Watari was not an attractive man. He was. Though it was in a markedly… alternative way, I suppose is the only way to put it. He was fair skinned and honey-eyed, possessing of foreign blood no doubt and with an appearance that suggested he had died in his mid to late twenties. Not as far back as Tsuzuki's time of death though; I wagered fifties to late seventies. He had long shapely legs, longer than Tsuzuki-sans even, an agreeable mouth formed into unremitting cheerfulness by the structure of his lips and a waspy waistline, that he certainly flattered by the cut of his colorful clothing. Moreover, I got the impression that though a fresher guardian than Tsuzuki, Watari-san was far more attuned to the circumstances of human nature and worldly matters. His face, though cheerful, was not the deluded perky happiness of one who is oblivious to everything around them. Rather, his honey-brown eyes were unrelentingly intelligent. His positive nature stemmed from his casual adjustment to bad circumstances. There was nothing naïve about him at all, not like Tsuzuki-san, whose pledge to continually help those that berated him was driven by his lack of association with large, diverse groups of them. Observing this Yutaka Watari, I got the impression that he associated well with people because there was no part of him that doubted or feared the reaction of those around him. He'd probably come to accept his own death just as easily. And at the same time, his appearance, whilst not on the same foreign level as Tsuzuki's, looked appealing in that he took responsibility for his faults. A body that was not quite sharpened, possibly due to lack of physical activity was flaunted regardless. Lovely colored eyes were sadly hidden behind glasses a margin wide in diameter. He had a plain and complacent expression until he smiled, which was a common occurrence without the least bit of prompting. His wavy blonde hair was beautiful and he possessed a confident, yet sincere disposition. His smile and mischievous nature made Watari-san easily accessible and approachable. Even more so than Tsuzuki-san, whose dark clothes and unremitting sense of guilt, made him seem distant and unreachable. Plus, his unspoiled picture perfection was likely to make him seem that much more intimidating. They were certainly a mis-matched pair, comparable by a shared silly sense of humor. Watari's simple non-judgmental outlook on things obviously made Tsuzuki relax, even in the presence of someone he feared like me. So, the blond wasn't completely useless. What's more, he was kind enough to refuse a glass of wine from me. Not to be rude, but because as he put it; 'He was just the chauffeur.' Meaning he did not intend to invite himself into the moment I was trying to ignite between Tsuzuki-san and I. Though I did have to endure until now cooperative pieces of my own furniture, suddenly springing to life whenever I encroached upon Tsuzuki's ten feet of personal space and proceeding to bar block and bludgeon me until I sat down back in my chair like a good boy. It was irritating. Watari was purposefully taking advantage of my vow of 'righteousness' and was making sure I kept my hands where he could see them. It was quite a quandary.

After about thirty minutes, I thought I was getting a break from it all. Watari had grown bored with monitoring me and had taken to studying some of the photo's lining my hearth above the fire. Once his back was turned I gently and slowly, got to my feet and moved over to sit on the couch directly opposite the fire. I removed my glasses and set them down on the coffee tables glass surface, leaning back against the soft cushions and ruffling my silver hair a little. With a sigh, I glanced over at Tsuzuki, clutching the stem of his wine glass and peering into the empty interior with an adorably forlorn expression on his face. I'd been careful to prevent the guardian from drinking too much tonight, insistent that his senses not be dulled in the slightest whilst he was in my company. Alcohol was a potent inhibitor, something desirable in the longing for simple sexual gratification that can easily be forgotten about the next day. Any time I spent with my beloved I wanted him to clearly remember. My memory would stain him as effectively as Saki had stained me. That was the price my Tsuzuki would pay for what he had cost me in Kyoto. The pain as he stabbed me, the desire for him that overwhelmed the searing agony from the blades piercing obtrusion, my revenge I had sought after for seventeen years. …No… for my entire life. All gone because I had hesitated. I had left the knife at his side in what I can only aspire to my own failing sense of sanity at the time, an act that must have reflected the inner restrictions I had cast about my body. As Saki had cast his spell upon me, just as easily Tsuzuki had drawn me in and now he would pay for making me desire him like this. For allowing my passion to eat away at everything I had worked for, everything I thought I had control over including myself.

I loved him. …Yes… I loved him. How despicable that I could love someone in the same foolish deluded way that the puppet Princess Tsubaki had felt for me. My own significant human frailty had gotten the better of me in the end. I'd allowed myself to be killed for all purposes by the creature I'd hoped to end it with. Now that I had nothing else, he would be punished by feeling the full curse that it was to be loved by a monster like Kazutaka Muraki! That is what you deserved Tsuzuki. That is what you get for tearing apart the man who tears apart the lives of others.

Which is why, I didn't want him to forget anything. He had to remember as I did. Saki didn't allow me the privilege of forgetting and if I were to perfect his technique even beyond his own expectations, I would do what he had been unable to. I would make Tsuzuki want me as dearly as I wanted him.

And I would make him remember because I had done nothing to him but this. It would be all his own. Something Tsuzuki and no one else could explain away by any inhibitor at work in his immortal body. Whatever was to occur between Tsuzuki and I would not be because I forced it, not because he was influenced by anything at all… but because he sincerely wanted me.

And that Saki is true power.

I watched Tsuzuki for a moment, a smile forming on my face at his disappointed expression. "Can you see the bottom of your glass?"

He glanced up at my voice and immediately warped his expression into something suitably disinterested. "Uh… yeah…" He confirmed, wobbling the glass between his fingers a little. I reached across the table and retrieved the bottle from where I had last set it. I held it up by the neck near my face, my smile persistent.

"Would you come and sit by me, Tsuzuki-san? You may have another glass if you would do me this one small pleasure."

I half expected him to place his glass down and announce that he'd had enough anyway, so I was pleasantly surprised when he instead got to his feet and with a tired sigh, came over to the couch and sat down very close to me. The surprise must have registered on my face because he grunted some sort of demure complaint and whipped the bottle out of my grasp, pouring another drink for himself.

"It's a good wine," He said as way of excuse. "Besides I know that you'll only blackmail me with some evenhanded bullshit about Hisoka and about how much you spent on me tonight and how I should be more accepting of your hospitality, yada yada yada… I figure spare me. I can put up with your blackmailing baloney just as long as I have another drink."

I wasn't offended in the slightest. Rather, it was an encouragement to see the unrelenting little Boy Scout finally get fed up with my constant sexual jibes and surrender to me, even if it was something so apparently insignificant. Between us, even the slightest act of consent from my beloved was a major achievement. Assured by this sudden change in character trait, I pushed my luck a little further and edged closer to him until the side of his thigh was aligned with my own. As I wrapped my arm securely around his waist and pressed him against my body, I slowly began to tug Tsuzuki's shirt out from the waist band of his pants and rub my palm in circles across the skin of his hip. Tsuzuki didn't say anything but I did notice that he filled his glass up a little more than necessary. He always seemed more self conscious when he was bereft of his befittingly gothic trench coat and now he also had his suit jacket removed, leaving his hard and toned body even more visible beneath the white shirt. When I too had relieved myself of my own over garments and done away with my tie, he'd grown even more uncomfortable than he had the previous night when I'd exposed myself to him. It was a little unexpected that he hadn't tried yet to worm his way out of my hands, especially since I was touching him in such a provocative way. I wanted to test him further, so I relinquished all hold's bar and shifted my weight dramatically, lifting Tsuzuki-sans slim body off of the couch for a moment and then sliding him over one of my knees. I pulled him toward me until his back was pressed to my chest, his body straddling my thigh. It was a delightful position, one that allowed evocative body friction for him whilst ensuring that I would be able to feel any alterations to his state of arousal. Currently, he was not stimulated at all but the pressure I had forced upon the area between his legs sent a shiver throughout his body and he uttered my name in a throaty voice, so seductive it would have made any of Oriya's girls slither out of their kimonos. I don't believe he intended for the sound to be taken that way but then again, my perception of things evocative and beautiful is not exactly usual.

"Shh…" I soothed in his ear, my arms wrapped tightly around his lower waist and my fingers tentatively stroking the sides of his stomach. "Didn't you say, 'As long as you had another drink?' I can see you have a drink in your hand now, Tsuzuki-san. That means you should be more than content to allow me to make myself as comfortable with you in this manner."

He didn't reply but took a thick sip from his drink, his beautiful eyes looking somewhat sad. I gave his waist a squeeze and then lent down to whisper in his ear, ceasing my usual teasing tone I took with the man. Now, I was sincerely curious. And the closest someone like me could come to feeling insecure.

"Is it really so terrible to be this close to me?" I asked in a breathy whisper. "All I would like is to hold you close this way. I would like it very much, Tsuzuki-san. And that is all for the time being."

Tsuzuki looked back at me from the corners of his eyes. His expression was not angry as I would have thought but rather still sad and pitiful. What I failed to understand immediately, what I later berated myself for, was not being able to correctly identify the address of that particular expression. In his own words, Tsuzuki had been feeling sympathy for me. Because of his own self-loathing he pitied anyone that could lust after him to the degree that I could.

"Things get too confusing when… when you're close to me and we… touch…" He said softly, keeping our conversation discreetly veiled from Watari, though he was still firmly focused on the mantelpiece. "I don't like being confused. I don't like my… body confusing me and I don't like being confused by the games you play with my mind. The way you play with people's lives. The only reason I'm even… allowing myself near you is because of Hisoka." At the mention of the brat's name I felt my face seize up in fury. I quickly vanquished it, not wanting Tsuzuki to have any inkling of lingering jealousy I had over their relationship. It would not help my situation here at all. "Muraki you've… you've killed so many people… how can I ever trust you? How?"

Here he met my eyes and I think we were both startled by the intensity we saw in each other. Ever so hesitantly, he lowered his hand to touch one of my own, twined around his waist.

"I think you are sincere about this. About your physical desire that is. Everything else… oh I don't know. I don't know what to believe anymore. I don't know if I can even believe in myself!"

"There now," I said as I lifted up my hand to cup his feminine chin in my hand. I traced the beautiful shape with the middle crease of my fingers, gently scratching at his cheek with my pure white nails. "Do not concern yourself with thoughts like that, Tsuzuki-san. I would like your trust but for now, I am happy just as we are, here. In this moment. I would think you a fool if you would choose to trust me with the only shred of proof I have offered you."

"Muraki…"

"You just wait, beloved." My voice lowered even further, my lips touching his ear at every syllable. "I will give you a reason to trust me one day. No matter how long it takes. And you know how relentless I am, with the things I want."

"Sadly… that's true…" Tsuzuki even chuckled at this but the humor in his voice faded a little as I lowered my teeth to the side of his neck, littering the soft indent of skin where the shoulder met the muscle with velvety kisses. His skin smelt of all the deserts he'd put away at dinner, though he tasted typically like salt from sweat. I was a little disappointed that he had not put on cologne that night especially considering all the effort I went to, but I suppose I should have been thankful for his presence alone. I felt the curse clutch at my breast, the heat across my skin hot and prickly. Usually at such agitation, my mind turns to inescapable thoughts of murder to burn the stubborn fire out. Violence or lust were the only things that calmed it. And that was what Tsuzuki-san was here for, no? To assist me in preventing these urges from making use of themselves in destructive ways. I'd been bracing myself all day for this; for the violence of the curse at its' full strength, now I had taken back that brats portion. It was brutal as I thought but Tsuzuki being in my arms this way, fulfilling the part of me that longed and could not before receive, helped diminish the pain. I was sucking feverously at his skin, my teeth grazing over the slightly tanned flesh with borderline mal intent. I sated this slightly by distributing a small nip to Tsuzuki's shoulder, not ever hard enough to leave a mark. It was enough though. The 'attack' passed and The Withering's chance to seize me that night had failed. I was out of the danger zone for the time being.

I was surprised at how sedate it had been compared to other times. It couldn't have just been Tsuzuki-sans presence, particularly since our proximity was reduced to merely touching. Something I would certainly have to muse over later, when I was not in the midst of entertaining my guests.

The curses hand passed without Tsuzuki even noticing. He must have simply taken it for me being passionately aggressive. Well, I was not going to mislead him otherwise. Calmed now, I raised my head from his shoulder and instead rested my chin upon it. As Tsuzuki-san casually sipped his wine, I found my eyes focused again on Watari-san. I didn't bother lowering my voice as I spoke.

"Out of curiosity, Tsuzuki-san… does this… Yutaka Watari have a partner? Of the romantic persuasion, I mean?"

Tsuzuki looked out at me out of the corner of his eye. "Why would you even ask that?"

I shrugged. "I was just thinking… he seems very boisterous and energetic. Those kinds of people usually have little trouble attracting attention from those around them. Would I be right in assuming, so?"

Truth be told, I was actually asking this for a reason but I wanted to affirm first off if my suspicions were all over nothing.

Tsuzuki nodded and smiled fondly. "I guess you could say that. There's nothing really mean about Watari and people seem to find him very charismatic." (Needless to say, he may have been describing himself here.) "The problem is Watari's usually so vivacious that he tends to intimidate people by having such a big personality. For that reason, he's never really maintained a long term partner whilst he's been a guardian."

I glanced back over at Watari, now more than a little concerned that he'd been searching for something specific amongst my photos. No one can find somebody else's pictures and past that interesting. At first I had just assumed he was being polite because of my advancements on Tsuzuki. Of course the truth of the matter was that he had not even noticed. He'd been distracted even since Tsuzuki-san had given him the brush off down on the street when he'd finally conceded to addressing me.

The topic of conversation…?

Watari-san turned around to look at me and then pointed back at the picture he'd been examining. He didn't even seem to notice that Tsuzuki-san was sitting on my lap.

"Say Muraki? What exactly is this picture about?" He asked with an altogether much too cheerful expression.

I leaned forward, trying to recall more from memory than what my vision afforded me. I really did not want to get up just so I could have a closer look.

"I believe that was yours truly at age fifteen." I said finally remembering clearly what the picture was. It stuck in my mind, because it was the last time I had ever really been happy. The picture itself was evidence of this. "I think I'd won a dare against my friend Oriya and I forced him to go to school with his hair in pigtails."

Tsuzuki-san got an expectant look on his face and slumped a little. "So, you were evil then as well, huh? I should have expected as much."

I didn't respond. I was too intent on judging the blonde's facial expressions. He was gazing at the picture with eyes that were much too soft, his body language too much devoid of humor to indicate that he found genuine pleasure in Oriya's humiliation such as I had. The pink ribbons I'd wound around his pigtails had secured him a lasting reputation. Time and time again he swore he would shave his head so that no one would be able to recognize him but I knew he was too fond of his long brown hair to ever do that.

Watari-san was looking at the fifteen year old spectacle I'd made of my closest and only real friend, with a repulsive insipid expression of pining.

How could I tell? Well one learns to read expressions well, when one works in a hospital with many part time and full time nurses alike. Most who are none too subtle about revealing their particular fancy of a certain tall, white haired doctor.

I retrieved my glasses from the table and placed them delicately upon the bridge of my nose. I pushed them back up before my eyes as I set them on the fellow physician.

"You wouldn't happen to… be keen on Oriya Mibu, would you?"

I'd expected a denial of sorts. Protests, blushing, extreme waving of hands, passing out, something Tsuzuki would do under those circumstances. Rather, Yutaka Watari knew perfectly well how to handle himself. He just smiled at me, somewhat daringly.

"That easy to see was it?"

Ah, wonderful. (Note the sarcasm. It doesn't come across well in writing.) When it came to Oriya, the man was purposefully ignorant of relationship commitments but managed to find himself involved with the most unlikely of people regardless of any advice yours truly sought to bestow him with. No one has told Oriya Mibu who or whom he may not go out with since he was a high school boy and it wasn't as though he listened then either. Regardless, he tended to avoid relationships on the most part perfectly content to keep to himself in the closed garden of the Kokakuro, smoking his pipe and drinking his saké. Romantic companionship was not altogether something he treasured as being of great importance, preferring instead the links he'd maintained with a few exceptional close friends and the girls who worked at his establishment, who he viewed as something like daughter figures in his lack of actually having children of his own. Essentially, it did not worry Oriya that he was alone. He enjoyed his own company and was slightly standoffish in group situations; despite his power and influence with VIP's and the like.

However, that was not to say that Oriya did not appreciate attention from admirers. He was not above responding to that attention either, depending on the respect he felt for that person.

Essentially, Oriya's romantic preference was women, though he had expressed sexual interest in men from time to time. And I could vaguely recall himonce admitting to having a predilection for blondes, especially if they were intelligent, vivacious sorts of people.

I admit this had me worried. Pursuing a Shinigami was a simple enough task for a creature like me but were Oriya to get involved with one himself… I was unsure of how he could be expected to handle the consequences. If he were to get involved that was.

Although…Oriya did respect men who took chances. He admired perseverance and a sharp wit.

Still I had much reservation of the likelihood of such a relationship blossoming. Oriya was in a different class to the blond doctor. Austere and courteous with little patience for childish whimsies and bounciness. He could also be slightly surly and serious to a fault when he suited him. They were like chalk and cheese, the pair of them.

I chuckled and leant back against the cushion's, bringing Tsuzuki with me. "Listen to me Watari-san, and realize now that I mean no offense by this but Oriya Mibu outclasses you completely. I would advise you keep your distance and enjoy watching him from afar. That's where most people who admire him stand-" I quickly clamped my mouth shut as the thought hit my brain like a runaway locomotive. Oh dear Lord, why didn't I think of that sooner?!

Tsuzuki glanced at me in confusion as I suddenly lifted him from my lap and deposited him gently beside me on the couch. I climbed to my feet, smoothing out the creases in my trousers before making my way over to the kitchen.

"If you'll excuse me one moment, I just remembered I have a very important call to make. Please make yourselves comfortable and I will be back momentarily."

It was a verifiable risk leaving Tsuzuki-san alone but I figured it might be a good chance to test his developing trust toward me. Besides, this was certainly worth the gamble.

I made my way into the kitchen, sliding the double doors shut behind me and headed for the phone hanging on the wall above the bench. I pulled out one of the stools and sat down, lifting the receiver from the cradle and punching in the number on the keypad. The phone rang on the other line. I studied my nails patiently whilst I waited.

At long last I detected the sound of the call being received, the click as it was raised from the cradle. I'd been expecting the familiar female voice of the receptionist, so it came as some surprise to me when Oriya himself answered.

"Kokakuro Restaurant, Oriya Mibu speaking. How might I be of service to you?"

I'm not afraid to admit that it was a damn pleasure to hear his voice again. The husky, yet casual tone in which he spoke; neither a baritone nor obliquely feminine, made me think of fine whisky. It was forward and meditative at the same time. Contemplative yet direct. I'd missed hearing it, as it reminded me of the man he was. A friend I treasured and acknowledged at the same time that he was not one to be manipulated by my personal wants and designs. Oriya never allowed himself to be anyone's puppet, least of all mine. For what reason he aided me time and time again I do not quite understand. His loyalty is beyond that of the putrid illusion of love; it is something tangible and solid. Something that a logical person like me, a man of science, should have little trouble evaluating. And still the answer is lost to me.

I allowed the smile to form on my face, a tiny unpremeditated example of my emotions.

"It's been a while, Oriya." I expressed, reaching into the pocket of my shirt and retrieving a crumpled cigarette packet. Once he registered who it was, I knew for certain that Oriya would have his lit pipe between his lips.

There was a long silence as Oriya adjusted to my sudden phone call from nowhere. I could practically hear the cogs grinding in his brain.

"Oh, it's you." He said finally. And he didn't sound happy about it either. "I was wondering when I would be graced with a call from you again. Still alive, I take it? Though in Kyoto I wouldn't put it past a ghost to pay me a visit."

I chuckled a little. Oriya has this unrivaled ability to demean his intelligence in one sentence and then effectively instigate his wit by tying up his words with some smart ass remark. I slid the cigarette between my lips and then ruffled through my trouser pocket for the lighter. The tip glowed an ember orange for the barest of moments and I inhaled sharply, craving the tobacco more insistently by the second. I hadn't been looking forward to this conversation in the slightest. It was bound to be uncomfortable and Oriya was the one person who could inspire a shred of guilt or remorse in me. If he should speak up in objection. Which he never did.

"Yes Oriya. I'm sorry to have caused your any unnecessary concern." I was actually sincere. "I've been in hospital for three months but I'm all right now."

"You are… the most pinheaded, moronic, idiotic person I have ever met." The other man proclaimed, enunciating clearly so I was fully aware that he had in fact been worried about me. "I doubt even you would be able to name some of the pills I've had to take these past few months. You left a huge mess for me to clean up, I hope you realize."

"I apologize."

"An apology doesn't cut it this time Muraki!" His voice had taken on a strained tone and I only realized then how badly he had been affected by what had happened in Kyoto. "You disappeared from under the radar. I was at my wits end! Where you're going, when you're coming back, if you're ever coming back, all you told me was that you would disappear. How the Hell do you expect me to take that, you bastard?! Do you understand what that kind of uncertainty is like?! It's TORTURE! I just hope you've got that damn Saki dilemma out of your system at least for a while. Because quite frankly I could use the break."

I allowed him a minute to compose himself and possibly take a puff on his pipe. After a long distasteful silence, I gathered that he was collected once more. When he spoke, his voice was poised.

"We made an agreement." He said. "After the completion of your experiment you would not bother me anymore."

"Is this phone call a bother to you, Oriya?" I asked, with mock sincerity. "If my memory serves me correctly old friend, you seemed objectionable to this bargain in the first place, did you not? And if you want to be technical, the firm implication of our arrangement stated that once the experiment was complete I would disappear. Since my experiment failed, I think that voids the pledge, don't you think?"

I could hear a faint, exasperated chuckle on the other end of the line. "Three months…" He said, more to himself than to me. He might have been shaking his head in wonderment. "I was expecting a little more than three teensy weensy months to get over the trauma of having you as a friend."

There was another immaterial silence as he paused to consider this. The following may best be coupled with a sordid shrug, knowing Oriya. "Well you do what you have to do I suppose. No point in crying over spilt milk." At long last his tone changed, morphing from 'tenderly-annoyed-older-pseudo-sibling' to 'happy-high school-friend.' "It's good to know that you are safe and well. Working back at the Tokyo General Hospital?"

"I am."

"That's certainly a relief to hear. Though I don't suppose it will be too long before you get those niggling itches for carnage. Or…" His voice lowered suspiciously. "Is that what this phone call is really about? I do hope you have not expanded your palate to where it was before denied."

I knew that he was referring to the murders at the Kokakuro, an assumption that truly offended me. As my oldest and closest friend, I'd made an assurance to Oriya that my practice would never encroach upon his own establishment or those within his service. I think of it this way: You do not bite the hand that feeds you. Or in my case, the one that cleans up after you.

"Actually, I have been on my best behavior since Kyoto." I ascertained, reaching out across the bench and pulling an ash tray towards me. They were littered about the house for my convenience. "I am currently researching other methods to sate my appetite for Death du Jour."

"Why do I not like the way that you say that?" Oriya groaned. I could practically hear his mind work, calculating just who exactly he would need to contact in order to spare my derriere. This time I could not suppress my laughter.

"Oh you sound so concerned Mibu…" I murmured, glancing back toward the double doors leading to the living room. I hadn't heard any footsteps announcing my two guests had tired of my deferred presence but Guardian's of Death can be sneaky like that. I concluded that I needed to wrap up this conversation fairly quickly. "You don't need to worry. I am currently pursuing the one that I love. He is like me, a descendant of darkness. I have found that his presence has something of a soothing effect on me, as well as the curse that Saki has painted on my body. As such, due to his humanitarian nature, this has forced me to make some altercations to my previous lifestyle. Owing to the loss of material in the fire at the University, I truly now have no further motive but to obtain him as my mate. Now that removing the curse is beyond my ability, this is the alternative I have decided upon."

"Oh, this again?" Oriya sounded appropriately affectionate. Affectionate in a frustrated way. "You still chasing after that pie in the sky? I suppose it's an improvement to murder, biological experimentation and all that jazz but still… couldn't you settle down with Ukyou? Or failing that, a nice nurse or something?"

I sighed and rubbed my temple irritably. Oriya's unsociable nature meant he would never be able to familiarize himself with the thrill of obsession, of passion for someone hoarded for so many years. And don't glare at me like that Oriya, you know it's the truth.

"I broke off my engagement with Ukyou this morning." I informed him, gazing down absent mindedly at my cigarette. It had become all but a great long cylindrical ash. "If I had felt a level of attraction for the woman I may indeed have been content to continue the relationship. As it was, I feel that she too foresaw the futility in us ever marrying. Consequently, she appeared pleased as it were that I had finally brought the matter to light rather than prolong the ineffectual charade any further."

"I would pursue this nurse suggestion of mine but I know you'll only find some clever way to counter it." Oriya murmured, muffled a little from what was most likely the pipe stem. "Rather than simply accepting the truth; that you are nothing more than a flaming homosexual."

This had been underhand but I still refused to let it slide. "That's rather sweet, coming from a pimp who spends his hours off of the clock practicing his sword technique. I believe you can draw your own conclusions there, my friend."

"All right, all right we'll call it square." He grumbled, uncomfortable as always with my cold clarification of his double life. "By the way, it's great to know that you're doing well and all Muraki but… you haven't yet asked how I am. Nice way to greet an old friend. How about a; 'Gee Oriya, you sound a little weary. Oh and thanks for working your ass off to keep mine out of prison, I really appreciate what you do for me even when you're up to your ears in other insignificant things like…well I don't know… your own life?'"

Touché. "Gee Oriya, you sound a little weary. Oh and thanks for working your ass off to keep mine out of prison, I really appreciate what you do for me even when you're up to your ears in-"

"Put a sock in it, smart ass." The swordsman growled and for one moment alone, the difficulties we had faced in all our years of friendship was extinguished in the light of this moment. A reminiscence of the boys we had been in high school, once upon a time when we had laughed about stupid things. Memories are nothing more than memories though and once the humor had passed, it returned to the way it always was between us. A personal yet starched relationship; a friendship where he would be unable to look at me without even frowning. Truth be told, I missed seeing Oriya's smile. It was rare to see him smile at much of anything any more, especially in my presence. It is the same with Tsuzuki-san now I come to think about it.

"Oriya, I have a favor to ask of you."

I'm sure he rolled his eyes here. "How did I guess this was coming? Such powers! I must have read your mind."

I disliked it immensely when he got sarcastic. It was like enduring the wrath of a petulant child. "I know I don't have any right to ask this of you but I would truly appreciate it, if you would hear me out."

"Go on."

Acceptance without hesitation. This was a good sign. "The Guardian Asato Tsuzuki is in my company tonight as well as one other. They have informed me that you filed a request with the Judgment Bureau to aid you in the investigation of some murders at the Kokakuro."

Oriya's voice retracted a little, as though he were expecting me to flare up for involving anyone with the ability to incriminate me. "Winoma-san contacted them for me. He was the one who suggested I seek assistance from the Ministry, though I was somewhat reluctant to do so. The nature of the murders themselves however demand spiritual attention and these agents of the Summons Section would be able to identify if there truly has been demonic interference or not. At first… forgive me for saying so, but I did suspect that you may have had a hand in the killings."

"Is that so?" I mused. "I suppose it is difficult to fathom the intentions of a murderer, even if they are your close friend."

"It was the symbol in the room that led me to believe it." He mumbled in a distracted tone of voice. Clearly he was troubled by the proximity of the murders, a personal sting to his own skills as a Samurai. A mortal would have no chance against Oriya Mibu and he was even capable of giving some immortals a run for their money. But I suspected that if a demon was indeed the perpetrator, Oriya's talents would not have mattered a jot. A demon would have been able to commit the crime unaware if that is what it desired. "We haven't removed the bodies yet. I've had that room closed off for the time being but the stench of blood is still heavy. I've allowed most of my girls leave until the crime scene is cleared and nearly all accepted. I think they're afraid that they'll be next. Even my receptionist tended her resignation, which is why I'm the one handling calls at the moment. A small group of my girls have stayed behind. They say they have an obligation to continue work but I believe they just wish to keep me company."

"How nice," I declared thinking that the girls' real reason for remaining at the Kokakuro was because they fancied Oriya. "Actually Oriya… the favor I wish to ask of you indirectly concerns these murders. Or rather, the Guardian they are sending to investigate them."

"What do you mean?" He asked warily. The apprehension in his voice threw me for a loop.

"The Guardian being sent to the Kokakuro has also been assigned as my loves unofficial body guard, due to the arrangement he and I have made…" I told him carefully. Oriya remained silent, a sign that I had his full attention. "Because of my past actions, Tsuzuki-san does not trust me. That is certainly understandable. Yet, rather than place his faith in his own abilities to monitor me, he has chosen to nominate another guardian to accompany us on every outing that we have. This minor detail does not leave me with a great deal of flexibility if you get my drift."

"And…?" Oriya prompted.

"In the space of time, in which this guardian will be investigating the case at the Kokakuro, Tsuzuki-san will have no choice but to accompany me alone when I ask it of him. This will allow me a narrow window in which I am aiming to consummate a more… personal bond between us. It is a little difficult to do so at the moment with an audience."

"Can't you just ask him to go into another room or something?"

I wished he had been able to see my expression then because I am certain that it was fairly priceless. "My friend, this is not the Kokakuro where it is perfectly natural to make others sit in separate rooms and read a magazine whilst they are entertained by a cacophony of exulted moans and passionate exclamations through the walls. Nor is it college where no one even bothered going into separate rooms at all and just chose an empty corner. Besides he will barely let me near him at all. A moment uninterrupted is lucky, whilst every other minute I'm being belted with furniture."

"All right, now let me see if I have this clear," Oriya stated. "You figure that the longer I keep this incorrigible third wheel out of your hair, the longer you have to establish sexual ties with your undead man toy?"

I stuck my nose in the air. "Oriya you are crude. Correct… but crude."

He made a noise of confirmation down the phone. "Muraki… I'm sure you are aware of this but… you are a fairly twisted individual yourself. Crude is pretty hypocritical, when coming from a necrophiliac."

I ignored him and he eventually got the hint that I was serious. His voice obtained that professional, 'I-just-know-I'm-going-to-regret-this' tone.

"And how exactly would you like me to stall this guardian for you, Muraki? Whack him over the head with a two by four and pack him up in shipping crate for Rishiri Island?"

"Appealing but no. Actually… the only true way you can prolong his stay is by prolonging the case. By making it more difficult for him to solve it."

There was a long, uneasy pause and I detected that Oriya was not exactly thrilled with this proposition.

"I know what you're suggesting. And let me tell you something before you say another word…" He said coldly. When Oriya got angry, his voice tended to get thinner and remote, as opposed to mine which got hotter. "My girls are dear to me, Muraki. I want to find out who did this to them. What you are suggesting is that I omit evidence, hide information and generally make it difficult to find the bastards responsible, is that right?"

The cigarette in my fingers had burnt all the way down to the filter. I crushed it into the bottom of the ashtray and lit up another one. I wasn't a chain smoker but the constant in surge of tobacco helped my body and my mind to relax.

"I'm not suggesting that you make it impossible to find the perpetrator, Oriya." I explained, praying to any God that would bother to tune into my prayers that he wasn't about to bore me with some self righteous declamation of decency. If I wanted that, I had Tsuzuki-san in the next room. "All I'm asking is that you make it difficult for them to find the perpetrator rapidly. If by omitting particular evidence or losing a few vital accounts of facts, than so be it."

"Another stalling tactic…" He mumbled, not bothering to hide his aggravation. "Whenever we talk it's only because you want something. I will treasure the day that you call me to simply ask if I can bring over the dip. Ever since High school you've done nothing but make my life a trial. I still haven't recovered from some of the things you made me do. Like that time you made me wear my hair in pigtails with pink bows, boy now that was mean even for you. Even now I wake up screaming."

He wasn't usually this tiresome. The Oriya of old didn't waste dalliances on complaining, it simply was not a part of his personality. I was wondering whether I should present him with this astute observation when he beat me to the finishing line. He sighed heavily, the drama of a man who feels like he is carrying the weight of a thousand nations on his shoulders. Samurai lineage for you.

"If you promise to behave yourself for at least another three months… I will grant you this small favor." In the background I heard a woman's voice call out his name and Oriya answered, his voice muffled by distance from the receiver. He turned his attention back to the call. "Everyone is turning in now. I should be going. Is there anything else?"

"Just one small detail that may be useful in stalling this particular guardian." I lowered my voice, flickering through the Four Level's of Penetration to ensure that I was truly alone in the room before continuing. "It seems that he is attracted to you."

"Ah…" Oriya replied. "I see. That means it must be one of the three whom visited the Kokakuro that night in Kyoto. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting any of the others."

I nodded regardless of whether he could see me or not. "There were three other guardians in Kyoto investigating during that particular incident. Seiichiro Tatsumi, Yutaka Watari and the boy, Hisoka Kurasaki."

"The boy had admirable determination…" Oriya stated, as though anyone who could screech Tsuzuki's name was worthy of respect. "Perhaps he is the one they are sending?"

"No, he is Mr. Tsuzuki's partner. You are being sent the Guardian in charge of that particular area; Yutaka Watari."

A pause. "That's the tall man with well combed dark hair, right?" There was a dangerous edge to his voice that implied I answer appropriately here or suffer the consequences. At this point, I was completely unaware as to his prejudices and was ignorant of what was in my best interests.

"No, he is the gentleman with the long blonde hair."

Something cracked on the other end of the phone. "Did you just bite through your pipe?" I wondered.

"Tell your guardian boyfriend to send another agent. I asked specifically that they did not assign the blond one."

I had been unaware of this. It wasn't like Oriya to form unprovoked dislikes against people for no reason.

"What ever for?" I asked. I was rather intrigued. "The man is extremely intelligent, down to earth, personable, blond… his company would not be objectionable to a hermit crab like you. What's the big deal?"

"You don't need to know what my deal is Muraki." The swordsman snapped. "Just know that I have my reasons. It's nothing personal. It just has to do with the way he looks."

"Oh and that is not personal? He's not exactly substandard Oriya, you could do a lot worse. Believe me, I've seen you do a lot worse. Did I mention he was blond?"

I could hear the tension rising in his voice. Obviously he did have a good reason for not desiring the guardian's presence, but he was unable to convey it directly to me in a way that suited him.

"Muraki, once again that is not the point." He said as calmly as possible. "Tell him I am flattered by his attention but they had best send someone else."

"He'll be there by tomorrow morning. There's no sending someone else."

"Dammit Muraki!!" I could practically envision him stomping his foot like a frustrated child. "What am I supposed to do?"

I inhaled warmly on the cigarette. "You could try smiling at him every now and again; he may mistake you for being friendly. Oh… and you could flirt a little. That's where you express attraction on a sexual basis towards someone who you would like to engage the interests of, in case you'd forgotten."

"Muraki, I run a brothel! How on earth do you suppose I've forgotten the fundamentals of flirting?!"

I ignored him. "Believe me, Oriya; if you flirt with him he will respond well. From what I have observed he is rather… licentious and should be easily distracted from his task. This will limit your responsibility when it comes to actually concealing evidence relating to the case. Isn't a little romantic interaction preferable to the latter?"

"You are… unbelievable Kazutaka Muraki…" My friend hissed. "Just keep in mind that you owe me considerably for this. Big time, my friend. It is truly an inconvenience. And what the hell does licentious mean, anyway?!"

"Sexually unrestrained. And this is not nearly as great an inconvenience as my previous favors, no?" I asked cheerfully. Oriya made a mocking snickering sound at me and sighed again. He sounded fatigued, the weight of the last twenty-four hours resting heavily on his spirit.

"Fine." He agreed. And I will be the first to say that he sounded even less happy about this part of the agreement than the first half. "Prolong the case by concealing evidence and flirting with some nerdy blond bimbo, all so that you can play 'Sword in the Stone' with Little Miss Lavender Eyes. Anything I missed out?"

"How about thanking me for setting you up with a cute blond?" I reminded him pompously.

Long silence.

"You're the biggest fucking asshole on the entire planet." Oriya hissed venomously. "I'm going to go to bed and enjoy my last moment of freedom before I have to play that guardian's wet nurse for god only knows how long."

"Wet nurse?"

"You know for a smart person you can miss the obvious so easily." He said. "Maybe if you used the small portion of your brain devoted to relating to the rest of the human race, you would understand where I'm coming from."

I was still unable to decipher his meaning and my lack of response only caused Oriya further aggravation. He sighed softly.

"Clearly there are matters in which even someone like you could not possibly understand. Always a pleasure Muraki. Goodnight. Oh," His voice took on a sarcastic overture. "– and thanks for setting me up with a cute blond. You always were a good friend."

Oh my…. how delightfully infantile. I would have told him this myself but the juvenile man hung up on me before I had the chance. I stared at the receiver in astonishment before elegantly placing it back within the cradle.

Oriya's attitude aside, I felt that I had successfully arranged a postponement for my dear friend Yutaka. The act itself, almost a betrayal of the vow I had made to Tsuzuki-san, made me feel animated. As though I had been starving for one small act of wickedness and this in some way quenched that part of me. Oriya was not pleased about assisting me but then again, he never truly has been able to adjust well to the creature I have become. To the creature I have made him become. As much as he tries to pretend otherwise, Oriya's involvement with me inadvertently condemns him as an accessory to murder. By cleaning up after me, assisting me in what favors I ask of him. I've never mentioned this to him out loud, for he truly despises the confirmation. It wounds his delicate sense of nobility, if the reality of spoken affirmation fleshes it out. But that is the truth of the matter and he seeks to avoid recognizing this fact by his continual chides at me, whilst thinly veiling the details of his own involvement. He is not an exhibitionist by nature and any guilt he feels, if any at all, he prefers to keep inside.

I chuckled to myself, marveling at his reaction to the blonds' imminent arrival. Oriya had reacted with detest at the suggestion of the guardian's involvement but despite his protests, I knew him well enough to realize that once he established bonds with someone, Oriya became very protective of them. That of course depended on his willingness to attempt a relationship of any degree with the individual, which was a task all on its own.

As I extinguished the cigarette, I picked up a strange thumping noise coming from the sitting room. Curious, I got to my feet and pushed my way back through the double doors.

I was met with a rather humorous sight.

There was a noticeable drop in temperature within the room, emanating from the presence of the aforementioned wraith that happened to haunt my home. Typically enough, the spirit belonged to a servant of a prior family, whom had hanged himself from the second floor stairway beam. Over the years I have consistently cast a strong Protection Spell within the interior of the mansion, to restrain the ghosts' wanderings and possible malevolent intent. However, the ghost was quite harmless. More of the Stone Tape recording variety, than that of the malicious poltergeist persuasion.

I could have explained this to my dear Tsuzuki-san and effectively eased his doubts but I had the feeling it would have been a moot point anyway. Besides, it was simply too adorable to observe his reaction.

He was standing on one leg on top of the priceless suede couch, one arm extended in midair, the other poised defensively before him, thrusting a fuda charm in the wraiths direction. Tsuzuki was shaking so insistently I was certain he was about to topple off of the furniture at any moment. His balance was clearly affected by the wine he had been drinking.

Watari-san, not nearly so alarmed by the spirits entrance, was trying to negotiate calmly with the brunette and contain the apparent need to collapse in hysterics. The wraith, a filmy semi-transparent elderly gentleman, merely bobbed its' way across the room paying little attention to my two guests. The way that Tsuzuki-san was carrying on you would think it was staggering towards him with a blood stained mace.

"Oh…no…" A tiny voice squeaked from somewhere in the vicinity of Tsuzuki's chest. He was well and truly trapped. I could see his brain flipping through a mental rolodex of slides relating to self-preservation, attempting to select a suitable solution to this dilemma. He solved it quite respectively, I thought.

"Tsuzuki!" Watari yelped, stumbling out of the way to avoid Tsuzuki's feet as he flipped backwards off of the sofa, backpedaling through the double doors with a look of horror upon his face, akin to someone witnessing the violent death of their mother. And then, I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't been witness to it myself, the top Shinigami in the Ministry of Hades' ran away in a panicky, high stepping manner like a woman who had just spotted a spider, screaming; 'Help! Help! HELP!!' at the top of his lungs.

The blond looked over to see me standing by the door and flashed me a shrug coupled with a helpless expression. I shook my head, smiling with affectionate amusement and then uttered a few select incriminations. The wraith glanced about with momentary discomfort and then slowly made its way out of the room, by passing through the far wall. I could hear Tsuzuki's hysterical dancing footsteps echoing up the hallway, a clear sign that he had taken a wrong turn.

"Idiot!" Watari-san grunted and then dashed through the door that my beloved had just left by. I followed at a walk.

Tsuzuki came tearing back towards us and leapt straight at Watari-san, throwing his arms around his neck and hanging on tight. His beautiful purple eyes darted to and fro nervously, seeking out the wraith in the Second Level of Penetration. I knelt a little, allowing us to see one another face to face.

"You may relax now, Tsuzuki-san. I already informed you, the wraith will not harm you. It is benevolent."

"I. Don't. CARE!!" The Shinigami snapped all but head butting me with the violent gestures he made. "You are clearly underestimating my phobia! I'm not afraid to admit it but ghosts scare me." The house creaked and Tsuzuki shrieked in reply, clinging on even tighter to Watari if that is at all possible. "Muraki, can we please call it a night? I wanna go home… my home isn't haunted…"

My suitable thrust and parry concerning his own deceased self inhabiting the residence would have to be put on hold. My eyes traveled over to the large Grandfather clock, presiding in the vast hallway. It had indeed gotten late. It was a little before Twelve o'clock. I realized that this had been the longest sustained period of time that Tsuzuki and I had spent together. Four and a half hours. Quite a record and certainly a tribute to his rising tolerance of me. Though I had wanted to spend longer with him now that part of our time had been interrupted by my impromptu call to Oriya, I conceded to his request. There would be plenty of time later, once Watari-san was out of the picture.

I smiled in what I hoped was a benign manner and nodded. "Certainly, Tsuzuki-san. It is rather late. Thankyou for a lovely evening."

A faint blush spread across his cheeks, evidence of his shy personality reacting appropriately to this inveigle I had offered him. Acting as though I was truly sincere was the most difficult role I'd ever had to play. If I was to be truly candid regarding my own feelings, I would have expressed them by kicking Watari-san into an available wardrobe, throwing Tsuzuki-san over the nearest horizontal surface and demonstrating just how much I would appreciate his presence for a little while longer. Instead I was forced to act curt and civil, at the expense of my roaring and considerably suppressed libido.

But, a reward means nothing to one without our moments of sacrifice… does it not?

I led the two men to the Coat room and retrieved their garments for them. I helped Tsuzuki-san slide on his jacket and then trench coat. I squeezed his shoulders affectionately and then moved on over to assist Watari-san. It was a good chance to prove my resolve by extending chivalry not just to Tsuzuki alone, but also to his companions. I could see that it worked. Tsuzuki-san gazed at me with a befuddled expression I could not help but adore. He was simply too endearing for his own good.

Once they were both rugged up, I escorted the guardians to the front door. Watari had left several large shopping bags perched against the wall and he picked them up, slinging them into the crook of his left arm. I moved past him and flicked on the outside light so that they would be able to see where they were going. I then reached out to clasp the door knob.

"How did he die?"

I barely recognized the soft voice as coming from Tsuzuki. He was standing close behind me, his face separated from my shoulder blades by about an inch. I retracted my hand and turned to face him.

"The yurei? It's been here since long before my family bought the estate. According to the stories I heard, he hanged himself."

I observed his soft expression, attempting to reason this explanation against a probable and yet definitive assumption he had already made. His deep, striking eyes met mine and I wished more than once I was able to see him on the first plane of spiritual penetration with both. My mechanical right eye could flick through a rolodex of Second, Third and Forth penetration whilst my left eye could see onto the first alone. This was one of the reasons I had chosen to grow my hair long over the right side of my face; to obscure the irregularity of the eye and also to avoid confusing my visual process unless it was absolutely necessary. Curtaining the eye avoided me from taking in competitive material.

"I thought that-'' The words spat out of him. I knew what was coming. "I thought that you might have been the one who killed him."

I tried hard not to seem amused. "I'm afraid that is one responsibility I must forfeit rights to, Tsuzuki-san. Unless of course you mean to suggest that I murdered him in a past life?"

I had taken this intended lighthearted comment too far and Tsuzuki failed to accept it the way I had hoped he would. Something passed across his face; his lip hiked upward and his temper rose to the surface, so that when he spoke, the words were forced to slide from between clenched teeth. His hands fisted at his sides.

"Don't--you--dare--make-fun--of-me."

"Tsuzuki-san…" I murmured, reaching out to gently brush my hand across his cheek. He slapped my fingers away and fastened his own around the inside elbow of Watari's jacket. With a sharp tug, he dragged the other Shinigami towards the door, opening it with his free hand. I didn't try to touch him again but rather moved aside to grant him unobstructed access to the exit. I relaxed my expression until it was verifiably unreadable.

Tsuzuki paused in the doorway and looked sideways, taking me in from the corner of his left eye.

"We have to go." He said, though it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was doing. "Thank you for dinner. And… the wine."

Watari made an effort to smile though I could tell his heart wasn't truly in it. Not that this was of any real concern to me. I nodded briskly at him and then closed the space between myself and Tsuzuki.

"Asato, would you let me kiss you?"

I felt his body seize up at my request. I took advantage of his momentary immobilization and gently clasped the curve of his shoulders in my hands, trailing my fingers down along his arms until they met the bare skin of his hands. Watari pried himself out of Tsuzuki's grasp and moved away, facing outside and humming distractingly to himself.

Tsuzuki looked over his shoulder at me crossly. "Don't call me that. You haven't proven yourself worthy of that intimacy yet."

I spun him around to face me, wrapping my arms around the curve of his waist and pulling him tightly in against my body. He gasped at the insistence of my actions, the expulsion of his breath a traitor to all that he sought to deny himself of. He looked up at me.

"Then perhaps that means you will allow me the chance to earn such an honor?" I whispered, tenderly stroking his cheek with the back of my hand. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment and I adjusted the angle of my palm so that it clasped his cheek, moving my lips down to within a bare inch of his own. I could feel the once dead heart throb to life in his chest, sounding out a rhythm lost to all those but the two of us who alone could understand its' music. Tsuzuki opened his eyes to half mast, biting his lip as he registered the slight distance between us. His arms remained firmly by his sides. But the fingers were loose, an indication that he did not feel entirely objectionable to my enticement.

"If you live up to your end of the bargain-'' He managed to choke out. "-then I'll live up to mine."

"So we have a deal then?"

He considered shortly as I removed the hand from his cheek and positioned it before his face, fingers and palm flat. The first time we had introduced ourselves, we had shaken hands though I don't think Tsuzuki had any idea at the time exactly what he would be getting himself into once he got to know me. Our hands joined, names were exchanged and the hunt began. The human hand with its' opposable thumb signifies humans as settlers, as builders and producers. With our hands we are able to touch, heal, prayer, gesture, speak, comfort, hold, build, confirm, deny, block, beckon, the list is as eternal as time and space itself.

My hand in yours. Representative of the way I had dreamed our bodies would one day come together, aligned in an unspoken promise. Of all the trust that a handshake signifies, I wanted you to understand what you offered me in our vow of trust. The chance to let down your guard and allow me entry into the very intimate nature of your spirit. The chance to have you in my bed one day as my lover. As my mate.

Tsuzuki-san contemplated my hand from all angles, as though he were checking to see whether I had spit in my palm. At long last, he bit down on his lip and roughly slapped his hand into my own. I tightened my fingers around it.

"Deal." He grumbled, sounding just as thrilled as Oriya had when I'd asked him for a favor. It was all quite the same to me at this point however and with a satisfied smile, I allowed my fingers to slide from his own and slip ever so slowly around his hip and into the small of his back. Tsuzuki shifted, his eyes straying uncomfortably to follow the line of my arm, his hands poised in midair, as though he were in the midst of warding me off, though he hadn't yet spoken a word to substantiate this.

Our lips were only an inch or so apart. I ducked my head in order to fill the space, my own lips closed so that the kiss I delivered was relatively chaste. I paid special attention to his upper lip, catching it between both my own before releasing and then recapturing it, allowing my tongue a bare, insatiable moment to stroke it. This was proof of the so far impersonal nature of our relationship. Tsuzuki's smaller upper lip presented the charade he forced upon himself and others. The false life he chose to live. That was all he would be able to offer me at this point and I would not pay my respects to that lower lip until he was ready to be more intimate with me. To trust me and be comfortable with who he really was.

I closed my eyes, bringing my other hand around to brace my arm against his shoulders. I tried to keep him pressed close against my body, but Tsuzuki took my gamble as the opportunity to push both his hands into my upper arms and separate our bodies a little. He did not stop the kiss but he was establishing that distance between us again. I was fine with that. I moved both my hands down to frame his waist, denying the temptation to deepen the kiss when I felt the other man slowly respond. It was uncertain, hesitant, a result of his mixed feelings about my sincerity and quite possibly an ode to his own inexperience. His mouth slowly teased my bottom lip, an action I found delightfully ironic. In my own symbolism, Tsuzuki had instigated intimacy by engaging the simile I compared to the state of whom I really am. The sign that I had accepted myself for what I was. I would have laughed but I was far too involved in the moment. Instead I opened my eyes and looked down at him. His own eyes were closed but his face had a tight look, as if he were trying to separate himself from the physical pleasure. My lips twitched into a smile and I broke the kiss, raising a hand to cup his face. My thumb rubbed against his cheek. He looked shaken, which pleased me.

"Good night Muraki." He said, distributing a soft squeeze to my arms. That was clearly the only intimacy he could afford towards me without compromising himself too greatly.

"Good night Tsuzuki-san." I replied and was shocked to find that my voice was rather wavery. I cleared my throat and felt the controlled mocking smile spring back across my face. "You will hear from me soon."

He nodded, apparently still attempting to collect himself. Watari-san glanced over his shoulder, saw that the exchange was done and smiled affectionately as he came back over to Tsuzuki's side. He gently took a hold of his hand.

"Come on, mate." He chuckled as he waved a hand before my loved ones suitably bewildered expression. Tsuzuki snapped to attention, muttered something that may have been mistaken as a bumbling confirmation and allowed himself to be led away into the night by his hand. Once they had disappeared around the corner I closed the door and switched off the outside light.

Tsuzuki

"So, we gonna head out with Ichi tonight?" I asked as I wound my fingers around Watari's arm and rested my head on his shoulder. "Huh? I owe you a drink for what you did tonight after all."

The blond chuckled and gave an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. "I wish I kinda hadn't promised now. I'm going to have a hard enough time getting up as it is." He yawned as though to demonstrate just how extreme his task was going to be and swung the bags in his right hand in circles, just tempting all the clothes and fancy underwear to go flying. Then he started to grin and I knew he wasn't tired enough to keep from teasing me. God Dammit. "So Tsuzuki-san… hmmm?"

"Ooooh! Don't you start!" I warned him, giving him a little push in the back. "You saw what I did to Muraki's hand at the restaurant; you so don't want to see what I'll do to your jugular if you keep at it!"

"I've already seen what you can do to my jugular." Watari sleazed, winking at me suggestively. I felt my face go red and I shoved him hard, sending him off in a reeling spiral of laughter. He quickly scooted back to my side and slung a friendly arm around my shoulder, pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Aww, don't take it so seriously big guy! But you know… you did look like you were actually enjoying yourself back there. And don't bother giving me that age old excuse; 'It was all just an act' because I've seen you act and let's face it; you're not exactly Oscar material."

I could see the shadow of his smile in the darkness and attempted to take the insult in my stride. It seemed both appropriate and depressing that the one creature I felt an attraction to after all these years was an evil sociopath. There was something profoundly revealing in that. Perhaps Muraki was truly the physical representation of my afforded guilt, that I'd conjured him to punish myself for my atrocious past acts. My feelings of remorse and self deprecation had limited my choice in romantic partners considerably, though I'd certainly registered a noticeable amount of attraction from those I came into contact with.

My morality aside, I was certain that should I have desired to ever give myself to someone… sexually and emotionally, I could have done so many times by now. But I never had. I never knew anyone who deserved to be subjected to a vile creature like me. Anyone I had ever known to have fancied me in that way, I convinced them in that dopey cheerful way I have, that they were worthy of so much better. Or I was naïve to the point that they simply lost interest. I'd always been aware though and if I had wanted it for merely the physical feelings, I could have had it.

It made me wonder. "Watari?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"That one time you and I got really drunk-''

"Doesn't really narrow it down, sport."

I puffed out my cheeks. "Would you let me finish the sentence? That one time we nearly… well… you know…"

Though Watari was not usually sparing on account of ones humility, this time he did me a favor and simply nodded. "Mmmhmm?"

I could feel my cheeks flaming to the point my complexion could have put a cooked lobster to shame. We stopped walking and came to a standstill beneath a streetlight on the corner of an intersection. The bulb was flickering. Moths circled the dying light.

"I don't remember too well…" I admitted, hiding my hands in my pockets and skirting my shoulders in; wishing I could just hide away so all he could hear was my voice. "But… why didn't we?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't we go all the way you mean?"

"Yeah. I mean… I think I was ready."

Watari seemed to consider this for a while, rubbing a section of his long bangs between his fingers as though registering the texture. A car whizzed by at something like 140 clicks. Watari's long hair lifted off of the back of his neck in the residue breeze.

"You weren't ready, Tsuzuki." He concluded at last. "You were desperate for something physical. You kept on begging me to take you in positions I've never even heard of, let alone attempted. Some of them were illegal too. Over and over you continued to tell me how much you wanted me since the day we first met and that you went to bed every night, dreaming what it would be like to have me make love to you. It got kind of embarrassing when you started reciting all those love poems you've written about me off of the top of your head. That was nothing compared to the way you rubbed up against me like some amorous pigeon, calling me words I didn't even think you knew. Then you started running around with your boxer shorts on your head and you collided head first with my chest of drawers. You passed out and I was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of you while you were asleep, so I simply took some good blackmail pictures, made copies and pinned them up on the Notice board at work and then threw a blanket over you and bunked down on the couch. I'm not afraid to admit I had some dark dreams that night."

The entire universe slammed on its' brakes and stalled. I clasped a hand over my mouth, mortified. "Are you serious?"

His face split into a wide grin. He started laughing. "Of course not you big dope! Makes it sound more interesting though, huh?"

I couldn't believe he would even joke about something like that. I clenched my fists threateningly at him, trying to decide whether I should break his leg or his nose first. "Watari…"

"Actually, the truth is not nearly as fascinating," He chuckled, taking his glasses off and holding them a distance from his face as though studying them for smears. Then he proceeded to clean them on his jacket. "This is before I knew the particulars of your death. I tried to take your watch off, you tried to roll up my sleeves. Neither of us wanted the other to see our scars."

I don't know if Watari actually meant to reveal this to me because even to this day, I've had no idea how it was that my friend had actually died. He didn't talk about it, not because he perceived it as being necessarily depressing but because he preferred not to stint on things that happened in the past. Watari was very much invested in existing in the moment and refusing to relinquish ties in the past was something he avoided in his own and most other people's business.

"You have scars?" I asked innocently.

Watari gave me a rare look. Cautionary. "Tsuzuki…"

"I know, I know, we agreed not to talk about how we died." I grumbled, knowing full well that the actual agreement extended mostly on Watari's part. I watched as he finished cleaning his glasses and with one last examination, set them back upon his nose. Then he stretched, the bones in his shoulders popping.

"Well, we'd best be deciding if we want to kick on or not." He said cheerfully, opening one eye to look at me. "I do have to get to bed eventually. Case's to solve; swordsmen to seduce." He waved the bags at me and I smiled, wondering how it came so effortlessly to him to be this confident.

"That's great Watari." I said, giving a mutant yawn to demonstrate how interesting I found his entire plan. He gave me the finger.

"Funny, wise guy. You can just forget about me bringing you a gift back."

"Oooh!" I mocked wiggling my fingers at him. "And I was so looking forward to a Matsutaki mushroom too. I heard they make you see pink elephants after you eat them."

His expression got even deadlier and he strode right up to me, prodding my chest violently with his index finger.

"That's it. When we get to that bar, I'm goin' straight to the bartender and telling him to cut you off for the rest of the night, mister." He threatened. This was the point where I usually got down on my knees and proceeded to beg for mercy but before I could brace my legs for the crash to the cement, Watari's expression got unusually serious. His eyes met mine. "Tsuzuki. Once I've gone to Kyoto… I want you to tell Tatsumi what you're doing with Muraki."

"What?!" I exclaimed. "I can't do that!"

"No, Tsuzuki. I'm telling you, you have to." His voice was the most firm I had ever heard it. It was the same tone a father might use to sanction their child and his usually bright eyes were dark. "Muraki may seem harmless enough at the moment but I wouldn't trust that sleazy pervert as far as I could spit his false eye. He's just hankering for the chance to get you alone and I think even a Chastity boy like you would know what for."

"But… isn't that a suitable price to pay if he spares people's lives?" I asked ignorantly. "And don't call me Chastity boy."

"Honey," he said and that's when I really started taking it in. Watari never called anyone 'honey' unless he was being completely serious with them. A rarity as sparsely scattered as roses in the desert. "Listen to me. I won't be here to restrict his actions and Muraki never wants anything as simple as sex. I would have thought you'd realize that by now. I am not going to leave you to deal with that son of a bitch alone, do you understand me? I won't let him hurt you. I've been with enough horrid men to know how easily something as seemingly insubstantial as sex can break a person. And having some understanding of Muraki, the man has more up his sleeve than whipped cream and a rubber. That's the way he is." He lowered his head for a moment and when his eyes met mine again, they were bleak. "You can't get the kid to back you up. I don't want to make you feel guilty over this Tsuzuki, but he's not likely to forgive nor understand your part in this, considering what Muraki did to him. Tatsumi will not be happy granted but he is likely to see the logic in it. And he is strong enough to protect you if the doc happens to get pushy."

"Watari-'' I began.

"Quiet." He snapped, though there was nothing callous in the way he said it. "I want you to tell Tatsumi, otherwise how do you expect me to concentrate on having my wicked way with my swordsman sweetie if I'm always worrying about you? Just do it. If you object any more I'll scribble something really embarrassing on your forehead, bring it to life and then make you walk back to Hades like that."

I chuckled light heartedly and Watari finally cracked a smile. He was still attempting to remain stern though and when he met my eyes again, the critical solemnity weighed his words down.

"Tsuzuki, I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. You know how much I love you."

My eyes bulged.

"In a completely platonic and appropriate way of course!" He quickly assured, waving his hands to and fro. I let out a huge sigh of relief and quickly pulled him into a hug. In a strictly he-man way you understand. "You can rest assured I haven't yet given into the trend of getting all giggly at the very mention of your name."

I blushed again and he ruffled my hair affectionately. "Just tell Tatsumi, okay? I mean it. No one is going to think you're a nuisance for wanting help with this. I didn't find this an inconvenience at all and better if you avoid trouble that may result if he kidnaps you or something."

Like Kyoto. I nodded, though I was already dreading the thought of confronting Tatsumi about this. I could see an ugly salary cut looming on the horizon.

"Okay. I'll tell him." I said.

"Excellent!" Watari chirped, throwing both arms up into the air as though celebrating. I watched expectantly as his bags all burst open and a million colored garments erupted into the night like a caged rainbow, lighting a pattern across the darkness.

"Shit!" He cursed appropriately. I simply marveled at the brilliance.

~EC ~

A/N: Not much of a change to that one folks! Leave a review if you enjoyed and then scoot on over to see the next new addition! Shinigami at the Paranormal bar! And also: Creepy store mannequins, the haunted mirror and the first appearance of the Cleaver Man! (Totally an indulgence chapter but I'm sure my lovely readers can understand that.) ^^ Should be up soon and I hope you guys enjoy it!