Dark Adaptation.

DISCLAIMER: (Blinks at readers) I don't own Descendants of Darkness. I don't want to mess around with legal affairs when I only have enough money to catch a bus from college to my home every day. Please don't take away my bus money. (Big Puppy Tsuzuki eyes)

Note: This chapter is from Watari's POV. This is the first time 'Ri actually appears, so treat him nicely everyone! ^^

Watari: Yay! Ori's first appearance! ^^ I'm so proud!!

003: (Flaps wings and hoots)

Oriya: -_- I don't know why you're so happy. This chapter reveals some nasty things about you too, kitten.

Watari: (Sweatdrops) Well… yes… but it's worth it just to see your sexy self!! ^^

Oriya: Could you be any more ridiculously peppy? … Wait, don't answer that…

Watari: (Genki pose) Ah, and a warning to you all ye readers of this here fic; the following chapter contains – GASP!! – a sex flashback! With this so saying, if you cannot stand the thought of two men getting hot and sweaty and passionate-

Oriya: (Fans Watari down in a bored fashion)

Watari: - then please hit the back button now and spare the author the wrath of your petulant flames! But make sure you leave a review! Specifically to Ori and me! ^^ We like hearing how cute we are together!

Oriya: You like hearing how cute we are together. I'd just deserve some form of remuneration for your clumsy advancements throughout this chapter.

Watari: You're the one who came onto me PERVERT! (Squeals and glomphs Oriya) I love you so much!!

Oriya: (Going blue) Ack… choking…

A further note: As far as the revamping of this chapter goes, not much to report. The conversation between Pandora and Watari is significantly different, the sex flashback alludes to what occurred in the newly written chapter 6 part 2 and there are a few other additions here and there. It just makes the story neater in my opinion. With that being said, I hope you guys all enjoy the newly tightened chapter!

Egg Rolls and Other Small Tragedies

x

Playground, school bell rings

Again…

Rain clouds, come to play

Again…

Has no one told you she's not breathing?

Hello,

I am your mind, giving you some one to talk to

Hello…

If I smile and don't

Believe…

Soon I know I'll wake

From this dream…

Don't try to fix me I'm not broken

Hello

I am the lie

Living for you so you can hide

Don't cry…

Suddenly, I know I'm not sleeping

Hello

I'm still here

All that's left of yesterday…

x

"Hello" ~ (Evanescence)

"Light is meaningful only in relation to darkness, and truth presupposes error. It is these mingled opposites which people our life, which make it pungent, intoxicating. We only exist in terms of this conflict, in the zone where black and white clash." ~ Louis Aragon

Unknown

He had admired the blond from afar for a few minutes before approaching him. Something about the beautiful youth's body language, not to mention the manner in which he dressed and conducted himself, suggested that he was on offer. A brief exchange was made. The blonde had a delicious smile. He looked innocent and cheerful; a perfect combination to find in a chosen bed companion. The stranger delighted in watching him; feasting on every subtle movement his chosen plaything for that night, made. The flutter of his long golden locks across rounded shoulders, the long dark eyelashes that fluttered against his cheeks with every blink, his piercing amber eyes… The other beckoned his prize to him and the blond was just as quick to obey.

Truth be told by that point, Watari wasn't comprehending much of anything let alone the face of the person grinding against him. The guilt and shame that stole through his system blurred the subtle lines of reality to the point that physical substance no longer had much hold on him. His vision swam as he attempted to make sense of what was happening to him and the vague conception that hovered just out of sight was that he was being fucked. What remained of coherency told him that he didn't want to have this happen but he was so determined for punishment that escaping seemed that much more tiring than actually letting the stranger have his way with him.

He wasn't here in this moment anyway. His mind drifted back to years past, to another time and place, where something not so dissimilar had occurred. "Open…" the other had commanded, pressing apart the boys' thighs with one long hand. And in that time, Watari smothered a whimper and bit his lower lip as he felt the erect organ nudge against his opening. He had learnt by now that to fight it only encouraged them more. It was better to get it over and done with.

The other entered him in one fluid stroke, lifting Watari's hips to a doubtful angle, deeper then his young body should have been accustomed to. The child wanted to scream, to memorialize his pain, but he forcefully turned the sound to a low growl that might have been mistaken for a vocalization of pleasure. He blanked it out; blanked out the driving pain that continued to assault his posterior, thrust after thrust, the sharp nails that tore great fissures into the flesh of his hips. His face, his body, his mind went blank.

"You want this, you slut."

Yes, I want this. I want this because it saves the only thing in this world that is dear to me. Fuck me until I'm bleeding and dead, I don't care.

"Tell me you want me. Scream my name."

I want you. How loud do you want to hear me scream you name? What kind of expression do you want to see on my face? Tell me what you want. I'm yours to control for this one night.

"Do you think you're worth more than this life? Do you ever think a disgusting creature like you will ever amount to more?"

Yes. I do. I may be dirty now but I won't be forever. One day I will escape from this darkness and leave this all behind. Until then, I'll bide my time idly and be as you want me. Compliant.

I did as was required.

"You disgust me. You're beautiful… and you disgust me. I want to break you, tear you apart and leave you bleeding at my feet because I love and hate you so much. I will break you if it is the last thing that I do."

I still wonder if you didn't succeed.

Watari

I still couldn't believe what I had let myself do the previous night.

Idiot. How did I possibly think that could make things better?

Following my bath, I had been unable to sleep. A thousand thoughts raced about my body, filling my soul until I thought that I would just about burst. Thoughts of the darkness I had wandered through that night, desire for a man I had only ever seen at a glance; whom I knew nothing about and had judged from my single moment of perception. The fear of what would become of the one I had left behind. What my death had cost her.

And the same fear I always had; whether I would go to Hell for what I had done.

I thought becoming a Guardian of Death would give me a chance to put things right with the 'Big G' upstairs, to rectify the egregious mistakes I had made in life. But… last night I had slipped again. Sometimes I wondered if it was possible to forsake the token role into which I had invested myself. In life I had been unfaithful to someone I should have dedicated myself to. In death, I had tried to establish myself in relationships that were considered suitable and were looked upon favorably. I tried to be with people that my colleague's (AKA: Tsuzuki) approved of; people with nature's that were commemorated. People who had the capacity to love me and whom I tried to love in return.

But… it didn't seem to matter how well they treated me, or how tender they could be whilst making love. As awful and as shallow as this is to admit; I enjoy sex. I enjoy sex a lot. Not to the point of being a complete addict but in the way that I could easily disregard a relationship should my physical dependency not be met. I liked forceful, rough, even violent partners. Passionate with sadist tendencies.

Maybe I felt the need to punish myself for the act that he had committed on me all those years ago. The time when I had been young and a virgin and I was going to live forever.

I never got the chance to know that the first time could have been anything but cruel.

I couldn't really remember the man's face. I told him that if he wanted I wouldn't mind him fucking me. I had nothing better to do that night. You know, other than sleep and prepare for getting up at Sparrow's fart the next morning.

I thought I had grown out of this stage years ago. It had been a long time since I'd engaged in a one night stand and particularly one of this nature. Down an alleyway, for fucks sake.

He'd been innocent enough to start with but once I'd instructed him so, his actions morphed from sensuous to brutal. If not for my healing ability, I had no doubt that I probably wouldn't have recovered by morning. He had left me, slumped against the wall, legs and hips twisted at the obscure angle which he had chosen to fuck me at and bleeding from my abused orifice. Regardless, I woke up the next day with that sprightly feeling I always get after sex. Perhaps it's the adrenaline arising from such a violent experience that comes as an accessory to my love life. Inside, I despised myself for my weakness. Orias had made well and sure that I had recognized this egregious and weak encounter for what it was. I continued to deny that I was addicted to masochism. But then I look at the marks inflicted upon my body before my death and realize that lies are little different to scars. You could hide them beneath long sleeves but they would always be there. My true self, like my scars, was my shame I couldn't show the people I loved. I couldn't let them see me for what I was. What I did to keep myself going, to keep myself smiling.

Sate an addiction. Another cigarette to a devoted smoker. Another drink to an alcoholic.

The reality made me want to cry sometimes. I understood myself too well. I didn't want to keep on letting lovers hurt me; physically and mentally. I wanted to be with someone who protected me from myself and at the same time could provide me with the passion and tenderness I craved.

One glance. One single moment in time. That was all it took for me to realize that I needed a man like Oriya. He struck Hisoka and spilled his blood and yet possessed nobility enough to admit he had no right to interfere in affairs of the magnitude that they had escalated to in Kyoto. He struck the perfect balance.

For the first time in my entire life, I had found a person I actually wanted to be with. A person I could have fallen in love with.

Oriya Mibu …

There had also been the one that I loved. The girl I had seen in the picture. And that had been more than enough reason for me to run last night.

Mr. Konoe had told me that she had been homed so many years ago. As such, I would not be permitted to visit her again for the duration of her life. To infringe on her at any point, may have generated memories of me when I had been alive.

Logical as it was, until this day I have still despised the arrangement and yet, my greater love for her ensured that I did what was in her best interests. The one that I loved would never know suffering as I did, I vowed. But yet, without my presence in her life, I had been unable to prevent the directions she took and the path she chose to follow.

I jerked awake as Gushoshin tapped my arm impatiently. I had dozed off on the seat of the bus, my head leaning against my curled fist, supported by my elbow braced upon the arm rest. Naturally the bird got the window seat so that people's view of him would be obscured, not that it made much of a difference. I'd been certifiably annoyed at this arrangement. Not only was I prone to getting motion sick but also I was tired and wanted to lean my head against the glass in order to catch a bit of shuteye. Regardless, my uncomfortable posture had not been much of a hindrance when it came to snagging a short siesta. It had been a rough night. And even in my sleep I had been unable to escape from the thoughts that worried at the corners of my mind every hour since I had accepted this case.

I rubbed my forehead a little and smiled down at Gushoshin. His eyes were wide and curious.

"You were making noises in your sleep. Sounded like you were having a bad dream," he said as way of explanation, placing down the papers he had been studying in order to give me his full attention. "Sorry if it was actually a good dream."

I pulled my glasses off of my face, folded and placed them in my jacket pocket. 003 was snoozing in my lap and I lowered my hand to distribute a small brush to his ruffled feathers. He shivered and hooted in his sleep.

It had been a while since I had dreamt about the past. It didn't matter a great deal to me now and I preferred not to think about it when there was sincerely no point. It sounded like I was scraping for sympathy then and if there is one thing I hate its people feeling sorry for me. I was glad however that Gushoshin had woken me when he had. Any longer and the thoughts may have had a greater impact on me. I closed my eyes and looked at him, grinning cheerfully.

"Yeah… wasn't particularly a very nice dream." I elaborated, ruffling my hair a little. "I dreamt that I was stranded on the side of the road and this gorgeous man drove past in a car and offered me a lift. Then –"

"-he kidnapped you and took you back to his secret lair where a thousand scantily clad and comely youths proceeded to indecently touch and molest you and wouldn't let you free until each and every one had had their wicked way with you." Gushoshin finished for me with a roll of his eyes. "You used that excuse once for arriving late at work you twit! Good Lord the boss was ready to spit a kidney at that…"

"Not to mention what Tatsumi docked from my pay." I grumbled, trying to uncross my cramped legs without disturbing my sleeping pet. "He used my wit as an excuse to pilfer some extra change at my expense! The tightass…"

"Yes well… let that be a lesson to you as to why you shouldn't stay up late drinking at bars." My companion scolded, returning his attention to the notes before him. The bus grumbled beneath as and we slightly bucked from our seats as we vaulted a speed bump. I deduced that the driver was actually an ex-Formula 1 racer from the way that he hit the pedal to the metal and took the corners on two wheels.

You may be wondering at this point, just what it was exactly that I, rugged Kyotoite that I am, was doing on this bus. Well, I'll be glad to tell you.

I hadn't been expecting a grand welcoming to hail my return to Kyoto. I wasn't arrogant enough to believe that I was worthy of red carpet royalties, marching bands, loudspeakers and the like, no. Kyoto was my hometown, the place I had been born. The place I cherished most in the world.

It had been the place I had met my wife. The place I had married her. The place my body had been lain to rest when I passed away.

Unfortunately, Kyoto was a fairytale to me. An idealistic notion of a child's illusion. All things wonderful in my life centered and rose from the Ancient Capital. However, my real life existed in the neighboring city of Osaka; a city where women wore red and the streets never slept. There was no arguing with the invigorating nature of Osaka itself. Most people went there to find sex and sex certainly walked the streets in vast colonies of stained cigarette smoke and prolonging, yet usually un-orchestrated glances and consideration. In Kyoto you made eye contact and the connection was romantic. In Osaka you met the eye of someone and you were guaranteed that physical promise.

Real life is the acknowledgement that humans as a species obsess over sex and death. Osaka, whilst a fundamentally neat and tidy city in the light of day, portrayed the basic's of human obsession in the night. In Osaka, sex and death was part of everyday life. It was a reality and people started to take the concept casually. Such as I learnt to.

That was the reality I knew in Osaka. But Kyoto was my city of dreams, where irony had no objective basis with which to firmly ground itself. Whenever I was in Kyoto, I felt as though I were wandering in a dream. My senses were clouded with a light, translucent feeling. No aim was too farfetched. No goal too unattainable.

In essence, I was Kyoto and Kyoto was always going to be a part of me. Coming back to it made me feel as though I had never left it in a sense.

I suppose it's the same feeling some runaway's get when they finally return home. It's as though you are reentering your memories, reliving your childhood. Going home again when for so long you have been running from the place that loved you most. The place you realize that you love the most.

I still hadn't learnt any better. I still arrived in Kyoto that day with the same air-headed conception I always entertain. Despite what I was actually there to do, I would not allow Kyoto to be stained for me. Not for any reason you'd care to throw about. I was there to work but I also had an ulterior goal.

A goal that like most dreams you love to entertain but have very little hope of obtaining.

It had been there, sitting on the bus to the Kokakuro, that I finally realized something. Accepting this case had not been about discovery, it had been a journey of farewell. I had come to Kyoto to find a reason to leave it behind.

It was a sad and liberating thought.

Because honestly, what hope did I have with a man like Oriya Mibu? He was cultured and cerebral, beautiful and well spoken. Well, that's how I saw him at least. Me, well… I was just a lout from Osaka. What could he possibly see in me?

But regardless, I still had hope. I still believe in those dreams no matter how outlandish they appear. That's the magic of Kyoto!

I had dressed my best for the occasion. Green jacket, black turtleneck tee, black pants and red boots with a slight heel in order to refine the length of my legs a little. I'd gotten up early especially to wash and style my hair to full wavy perfection. I was wearing mascara. I had on my most expensive cologne. All in all, I felt and looked a million yen. At least… I thought that I did. And I was fairly confident that I was going to at least turn the samurai's eye at my arrival, if not provoke his attention completely.

That had been three hours ago.

When we'd gotten off of the plane, I had been expecting someone to be waiting to take us to the Kokakuro, since they had hired us for the investigation. Much to my disgust however, one well placed phone call to enquire about the lack of immediate transport confirmed that we were to make our own way there. Which would have been no deal on a bright and sunny day. However, as luck would have it, we had arrived on what possibly had to have been the most horrid day all year in Kyoto. It was pouring down. The sky was gray, the bus stop seat was wet and the bus splashed me when it pulled up to the curb.

So much for the effort I had spent on my hair and makeup.

Struggling up the bus isle I was horrified to suddenly find myself slipping on what I can only hope was an old egg roll. In a last ditch attempt to save myself (and my pride) I had grabbed a hold of a handy dandy pole which just happened to have freshly chewed gum stuck to it. Mortified naturally, I let go and the bus jerked into motion, sending me flying down the isle onto some poor aghast teenage boys lap. At first I guessed that he was pleased with the attention but upon realizing that I was actually a man, he went bright red and attempted to shove me into a neighboring seat on the opposite side of the isle. I managed to get halfway into the seat, when the bus hit a speed bump and I fell on the floor, managing to perfect my newly acquired hobo look, by plastering a couple of cigarette butts against my blond locks. After dislodging the wedgie of a lifetime I managed to finally crawl my way into the seat, where it came to my attention that I had left 003 and Gushoshin back at the last stop. So I then had to extract myself from the bus two stops away (much staring ensued) and stomp back to the shelter I had just vacated, in the downpour. The next bus that arrived a half hour later provided fewer shenanigans to which I was thankful. I'm not one to normally let such circumstances get the better of me and I was even able to laugh about it, once I managed to get to a seat in relative safety.

I was a little irked though. We were running an hour outside the promised time. I looked a mess. Mibu-san wasn't likely to be turned on by some wet, shivering, spectacled moron trunching up to his doorstep with a cigarette butt wreathe adorning his gloriously frizzy head. The first half of the trip was spent hastily trying to rectify my condition but there was little that could be done about the state of my saturated clothes. Exhausted and fed up, I finally fell asleep when Gushoshin had assured me that he would wake me up when we'd reached the Kokakuro. I ascertained, after checking my watch, that I had been asleep for forty-five minutes.

"According to my calculations, we should be nearing our destination in the next twenty minutes." I informed my feathered friend. "Tell me, is there anything further regarding the specifics of this case that I should be notified about preceding our arrival?"

Gushoshin pulled a face. "Watari, don't try to sound intelligent. It reminds me of Reese Witherspoon when she tried to pretend that she was a lawyer in Legally Blonde."

I quirked an eyebrow. "That might offend me if I had some idea what you were talking about. Is that an American movie, perchance? The last Western movie I ever went to see was 'Under the Tuscan Sun.' And all I did was weep all over Tsuzuki's shoulder while he did what he could to comfort me."

Gushoshin tried to brush off this lighthearted comment but I could see for a split second that he was uncomfortable with my discreet suggestion. Office romances were always on the forefront of everyone's mind in the Judgment Bureau and many a time the suggestion of a possible liaison between Tsuzuki and I had been casually and not so casually brought up. Though the possibility of 'anyone' and Tsuzuki having a fling was nearly always a topic of conversation. Too bad the little Chastity Boy was completely unaware of his sex appeal. I'd tried to explain it to him once before, why other people found him attractive but I guess chemistry just isn't for everyone.

"Actually, something has emerged out of this file Tatsumi gave us to study." Gushoshin said, handing me over a sheet of paper. I slipped my glasses back on in order to read the minute print. "This is in regards to the girl that survived the attack."

My eyes widened but I immediately brought myself under control and tried to appear unaffected. "Yes, I do remember him mentioning that she survived a deep cut across the neck. I also recall that her attacker may have intentionally left her alive as her injuries were far less substantial than the other three girls." I lowered the page and caressed the crease in my chin as I thought this over. Leaving a victim alive was certainly a foolish move as she could provide a verifiable eyewitness account. What was the offenders' objective? Why bother to kill the others and leave just this one alive?

Gushoshin showed me the picture of her. The one that I loved. It was hard to look at her and remain practical when I could see so much that was familiar and once cherished by me. Her bruised and battered face would have been pretty under normal circumstances and she had a lovely wide mouth, the corners creased into a perpetual grin, much like my own. Her long wavy blonde hair was shiny and her brown eyes contained just the hint of a sparkle. As though she had a distinctly cheerful personality. She looked a little older than the age my body was maintained, which made sense considering that she was possibly around thirty-three years of age. I imagined that without the injuries, she would have been incredibly beautiful and warm in appearance. But now, her eyes were glazed as though she could only keep herself from crying just long enough for the photographer to capture her ruined face.

"You poor baby," I murmured, reluctantly allowing the Gushoshin to tuck the picture away again. "No one should have to go through something like that."

''And you would understand better than anyone, wouldn't you Yutaka?"

The bus disappeared into darkness.

For a moment I continued to sit there confused; wondering if the lights had simply gone out. However, it had been midday and even if the lights had gone out it could not have constituted for the darkness surrounding me. The interior of the bus, the occupants, Gushoshin and even 003 had simply disappeared from my sight. I remained in a sitting position even though the seat on which had been supporting my posterior had long since evaporated. Finally, I climbed to my feet and took a good look around. I was met only by the same familiar darkness no matter which way I turned. As inky black as a darkness ever could be.

No doorway. No point of return.

I thought of last night; the alleyway and the store that had dissolved into a disfigured otherworldly version of itself. "Oh crap… not this again." I gazed around, searching for some familiarity; anything to grasp onto that would make sense out of this madness. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, I was able to make out certain objects. A grandfather clock. A four poster bed. A doorway wreathed in wooden vines.

Crooked picture frames hanging from the walls. Cracks permeating out from the ceiling corners. The stench of sex hung heavy in the air like cheap perfume.

"No…" I whispered. It was impossible. I hadn't activated a plane shift. How could I have come to be here? I couldn't be here. I had escaped from this place forty-two years ago, with no intention of ever returning.

Yet here I was.

But something felt wrong. I walked over and touched the Grandfather clock. It was hard against my fingers, cold, real, existing. Yet it wasn't the same Grandfather clock that had always been there. The one that had once been stained in my own blood. This was like a copy; a picture that you might find in your own memory. It was a clock, but one that was too perfect, as if it were only placed there to represent a bookshelf, not to recreated it in perfect detail. To restore its likeness.

But why? What was the cause of such recreation? And why had I been summoned to it?

"Wa-ta-rii~saa~aaan…"

A voice issued out of the dark. A voice that dared to replicate itself also, a voice that echoed and twigged old feelings. I pushed my emotions to the side and allowed my hand to face outward, palm straight and middle two fingers pointed downwards whilst the others curled back. A mana property alighted within me and I was relieved to find that this realm had not the ability to bind my powers.

"Obscured specter, define thy form, reveal thy essence from its dorm…" I quoted. The incantation was intended to sweep aside the darkness and allow me to see who was manipulating the strings. Clearly however, the offender was of greater magical property than I and the desired effect was not achieved. The voice rightly laughed it off.

"So sorry! So sorry! Spells like that won't have any effect on me!" The light hearted voice sang, ringing musically in my ears. Sudden movement! Someone had appeared in the far corner from where I stood, leaning their back against the wall and looking in my direction. I heard their feet tapping against the floor.

I swiveled around; fingers branched in a defensive magical pose, only to once again be met by blackness. Somewhere, out in the dark, someone sniggered.

"Over hee~eere." It playfully beckoned. I held my breath as footsteps echoed through every surface, coming towards me. In my heart, I suppose I knew who would step out of that ink.

It still didn't prepare me enough to keep from exclaiming out loud.

His body seemed to meld with the shadows, allowing only his ivory skin to stand out against the blackness. As he came closer to me, I was reminded of every little reason I had for once turning to this creature and then again for my decision to run in the end. A huge broad shouldered middle aged man with tousled dirty blonde hair that flirted with the nape of his neck. A misleading lined and charismatic face, a wide mouth smiled at me in a way that I had once allowed myself to trust. In a way that had drawn many stupid idiots to his doorstep and bed. He wore a mocking expression on his face as he came closer to me. I suppressed the urge to back away, understanding full well that there was no place to run. There was no door or windows in this room.

There never had been.

I waited until he had stopped before me. His smile grew wider as he watched me tremble before him.

"Hello Watari-san." He said in his musical voice.

I didn't respond. At least, not verbally.

SMACK!

I hit him. The blow almost took his head off. It would have taken his head off if he had been a normal human. I was a Guardian and my physical strength, though failing me in life, surpassed that of normal expectations as an undead.

Its' knee's buckled and it fell backwards, clutching its' wounded cheek and glaring up at me. Only then did I see the illusion fall away; a trick played by my own mind. It was not that man at all but a teenage boy, with dirty blond hair and startlingly bright blue eyes. Eyes I had only ever known one person to possess…

"That hurt… Watari-san." He murmured, looking up at me with a bug eyed nonchalance, as though being beaten was not something that he were unfamiliar with. I backed off two steps, feeling something brush against the small of my back; a ripple, as though I had retreated upon the surface of water.

"You… why are you here?" I softly asked, looking about as the darkness appeared to undulate, bringing with it what sounded like the far off sounds of children in squalor. "What's happening…?"

"This place… this darkness… it plays tricks on people's minds…" The boy said, slowly bringing himself to his feet and dusting off the knees of his pants. "I apologize if I startled you, Watari-san… but there are only so few places that we could have this conversation."

"What do you want?" I whispered. It felt too much like a library, as though I were required to lower my voice.

The boy massaged his cheek, as though distracted by a far off thought. Now that he was so close, it was easier for me to get a better look at him. He had soft mousy brown hair with subtle blonde highlights, long slender legs and narrow hips. His face was warm and might have otherwise been described as expressive, if circumstances had allowed for it.

He wasn't dressed like he had been last night. Now, he was wearing clothes that were misleading in their juvenile nature; three quarter length pants and red sneakers. A loose fitting t-shirt with some meaningless pop icon blaring across the breast. His shoes tapped loudly against the wooden floor.

He was beautiful in the same way that Hisoka was. But he possessed a self-awareness that distinguished him from the kid. A confidence that allowed him to express himself in a more sexualized manner.

The boy shook his head and the longer strands of hair swept down across his neck. His expression relaxed gradually, until it took on a form that could only be called buoyant.

"You… you're the one I followed last night, aren't you?"

The boy smiled and seated himself on the edge of the bed. It was strange to see him relaxing on the object that had afforded me such horror in the past. It seemed kind of inappropriate.

"Nope!" He said, swinging his legs to and fro, as though perched on a swing rather than… well, that thing. "It was probably a me that wasn't me, if that makes any sense?"

It didn't. And I confess myself confused. This was long before we learnt of the mimic however.

"A you that… wasn't you?" I asked, wishing I didn't sound so fucking ignorant.

The kid merely smiled and looked around, taking in the beastly surroundings I knew all too well.

"So, this is the place that sticks in your memory the most." He said conversationally. I tried to steady my breaths, not to let the proximity of this nightmare location get the better of me. It felt too much like the walls were closing in. "Did something bad happen here, Watari-san?"

I ignored him. Had to ignore him. "What the hell do you want? Why on earth did you appear to me last night in Tokyo? And what the fuck was that strange… place you sent me to?!"

The kid seemed annoyed. He wore a slightly furrowed brow. "I have already told you; who's to say who you saw last night?"

I heard a strangled whimpering. It was my brain about to explode. "So… you were there… and at the same time you weren't there. How silly of me to not understand." I wanted to leap across the room and shake the kid until his own brain rattled but I didn't want to risk getting any closer to that bed. Then I thought of something that could confirm my accusation. "You said your name –''

" – is Pandora." He said perkily, with a wide, silly smile. It was not at all like the seductive manner in which 'he' had spoken the night before. He looked up at me and in a split second his face burst into the most ridiculously perky grin I had ever seen outside of my own mirror. He actually giggled. "But not the Pandora you met last night, silly Watari! Like I said before!" He climbed to his feet and walked away from the bed, holding his hand out to me. I stared and didn't make a move to accept his palm. "Why do you hesitate? Don't you wanna see if I'm real or not?"

His large smile was so endearingly sweet that it pushed aside my initial concerns and gently took his hand. He seemed so familiar to me… Pandora smiled as we shook and then pulled me close into a hug. I blanched but to him the contact seemed perfectly natural, as though we already knew each other.

"This is my first time in Kyoto…" He squealed as he drew back, his grin growing even wider. "I came here looking for my Momma and Papa! I think my Momma's still here but… I don't know if my Papa is anymore. He's a little hard to find. He tends to move around a lot."

I smiled weakly as this clandestine kid happily related his family history to me in the midst of an alternate dimension that resembled a place where something… well… where something not particularly nice happened to me many years ago. I looked him over and chuckled a little to myself.

"My God… you look just like him."

His smile only lessoned slightly. "Like who?"

"Hiso –'' I held myself back at the last minute, knowing full well that invoking an undead's name could be disastrous if someone with higher powers got a hold of it. "Uh… I mean – someone I work with. It's amazing the similarity! Your hair, your face, your voice! You could be his twin! Just your clothes and –''

Something strange happened to Pandora at that moment. A few seconds earlier his nature had been positively friendly but before my eyes his expression became cold and clinical. I scratched my next word as I noticed the downward slope he had axed upon his brows.

"I'm not your Hisoka, Watari-san." He said. His voice turned completely carnal.

I stepped back a little, registering the sudden change in attitude. I'm not afraid to admit that I was a little worried. "O-of… of course not. You're Pandora, aren't you?"

Eventually, Pandora relaxed at my verification, his voice and actions becoming sensuous again. "That's right."

I grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a tight squeeze with my fingers. I didn't want to come across as some sort of intimidating bully but I'd had a gut full. I was tired and frustrated and sick of being jerked around all the time.

"Alright, enough of this shit. I think it's about time you gave me a straight answer."

Pandora smiled a little and then pulled himself from my grip with barely the minimalist of effort. He returned to his seat on the bed and glanced over at me merrily.

"I'm here to give you a fighting chance."

"A fighting chance?"

He continued to smile in that maddeningly calm and happy way; regardless of how serious he apparently took the situation to be. "I came here to warn you but to do so it was necessary to carve out this little notch between the Casual and the Acasual space in order to have this conversation. And unfortunately, I could only create something that held a particular stance in your memory. Hence, this room. I apologize but I cannot risk my master finding out what I have done."

"Master? Then… that would make you a -''

'A demon's whore. A Pet.' That was what I had intended to say. But Pandora beat me to it before I had a chance to verify it.

"Yes, Watari-san. It would make me a Pet." He grunted, his smile only wavering slightly to show his dissatisfaction. He flashed me some pearly whites. "Someone once said that it is better to be the right hand of the devil than in his path. And the legions of Mitkiel are certainly not far from that."

I'd never heard of this name before and I'm sure my ignorance registered on my features. Pandora smiled a little sadly at me. I could see that the boy was miserable underneath his false façade of exhilaration but there was little that could be done for those that a demon had chosen to keep as pets. To interfere meant that the demon itself was likely to rock up to your doorstep and knobble you good for the effort. I'd known it to happen.

My fingers were poised in an offensive pose, my muscles tensed if trouble appeared imminent. But a fight did not seem to be what Pandora's intention.

"I wanted to tell you something, Watari-san." He cooed, lifting himself from the bed and walking towards me. I made to step back but in a flash my skull was caught in one of his hands and he pulled me towards him violently. I cried out at the force he was exerting on my cranium, my voice withering into a strangled whimper as his other arm encircled my body, pressing me against his own.

I shuddered, resisting the urge to fight against him. The action had not been violent; more so the act of a child that didn't realize its' own strength. The kid merely seemed to want physical contact. I put my arms hesitantly around his middle and he sighed, shifting his face into the crook of my shoulder and clutching the back of my jacket hard between his fists.

"My father used to hold me this way…" He mused, meeting my eyes with his own. "That was a long time ago. I like being held this way, the way it was before I became an Unclean."

I could feel tears in my eyes and he noticed. He brushed them away with the curve of his thumb.

"I think you miss it too, Watari-san." He whispered. "I think you understand what it is to be without this. … I… wish that we could… give it back to each other. But that's kind of impossible, isn't it? We never even came to possess what the other wants. My parents aren't where they used to be and yet I'm chasing this pipe dream around and around in circles. Just the way you are chasing her…"

I pulled away but Pandora didn't seem to be offended. I watched as he turned with a smile of pure pleasure, as though I had confirmed his words without even speaking aloud. He began to walk away from me, the forefront of his body bending to the shadows until he was all but indiscernible. When he reached the far wall he paused and then looked over his shoulder at me.

"'And the dead were judged according to their works, as recorded in the books. And the sea gave up the dead that were in it. Death and Hades gave up the dead that were in them and all were judged according to what they had done. Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire and anyone whose name is not found written in the book of life was thrown into the Lake of fire.' This is the Judgment of the Dead."

I felt the very blood freeze in my veins.

"What are you talking about?" My voice had all the substance of dried grass; too easily blown astray. Even easier to catch alight. With a soft shushing noise, Pandora slipped back into darkness.

"My coils tighten and keep you my own. He is contained for now at least but his legion is acting fast to gather up the pieces that have been scattered to the wind..." His voice sounded grim. "He that releases the burning ring of fire, would wipe clean the world. With the slate clean, he would command a new kingdom of his own creating. … I am sorry to bring you such bad news Watari. I truly am. But I thought you should know, now that you are a part of this yourself. And this way, you may be able to do something to stop this terrible thing from happening. Please. I no longer can…"

With a breathy sigh, Pandora departed leaving me with the terrible insinuation, bequeathed in his parting words.

There was a blinding flash of light and I was dropped right back to where I had been when the vision started. My hand registered the warm touch of 003's feathers and the dull light from outside the bus windows. My entire body was shaking, like I was wracked by a chill, inside and out. A chill that owed nothing to my wet clothes.

"Hey, are you okay?" Gushoshin's sharp voice asked from beside me. I could feel his eyes focused on my face. "It looked like you blacked out there for a moment."

I allowed my hand to loosen its' death grip on 003's feathers, my fingers slowly sliding away like liquid silk. Somehow, the cold wrap of weather outside didn't seem nearly as bad as it had before. I turned to my companion, on the verge of voicing my fears when a sudden thought struck me and I started to laugh. Gushoshin raised an eyebrow at me.

"Watari-san?"

I couldn't tell him. That would have involved too many incriminating details about my past and I wasn't ready for that to come to light yet.

I had no idea what this Pandora had meant, with his cryptic talk of the Lake of Fire, nor would I even begin to fathom the likelihood of the worlds imminent destruction until much later. I did not even connect it to my current case and as such, I pushed this strange occurrence to the back of my mind and buried it deep in a binding darkness, ready to be perused at a later date. Most likely when it was worn and dusty.

The landscape zoomed past at a hundred miles an hour. I let it go.

XxXxXxXxXx

Twenty minutes later, Gushoshin, 003, our begrudged luggage and I, arrived at our destination. Though much of Japan is now Westernized, most of the greater area of Kyoto remains largely unchanged from traditional times and the truth can be said of the street in which we now found ourselves.

Modern geiko or whatever title the women in Oriya's employ preferred to refer to themselves by, still lived in traditional group houses called okiya, which were situated in districts known as hanamachi, or 'flower towns'. Geiko is a specific term coined by those of us accustomed to the Kyoto dialect and it means precisely the same thing as Geisha, you understand. However, so far as I knew, the women in Oriya's service were not honest to goodness geisha, in so far as the term itself implied. But I, in my most impoverished lifestyle am probably the worst person to try and explain such matters to you and in all fairness, it would probably be terrible impolite of me to even try. What I can say with utmost surety is that despite the specifics of their employment, these women were treated by Oriya and their 'clients' with respect, dignity and equity. I knew that some of the women had achieved financial independence from the okiya as it were and lived separately but chose to maintain ties with the Kokakuro for reasons of personal benefit; such as the arrangement of financial matters, the loaning out of kimono or… why, I couldn't say for sure what else. I imagine Oriya might be able to explain such things were a tad more clarity than I am able to.

Kokakuro was the title of the particular 'okiya' or rather 'bordello' in which Oriya was the proprietor. I'm not sure if there was any specific meaning behind this but the word kuro for 'black' somehow worked itself into the title; Therego there may have been some vague reference to darkness or nighttime or some such thing. So far as the file had informed me, prior to the murders there were eight geiko residing on site and one who lived independently but still maintained ties to the okiya. There was one receptionist who handled all the phone calls and organized the girls' appointments and schedules, three maids; two young and one middle-aged and a male cook. The older maid and the cook did not live in Kokakuro but resided nearby, as did the professional dresser and hairstylist who came on an almost daily basis to prepare the girls for evening events and the like. Oriya Mibu, as the proprietor, also lived on site and served the job that was traditionally filled by the okaa-san, or 'Mother' of the okiya; who was customarily an ex-geisha herself. Oriya of course was no such thing and it was quite unusual actually, for a male to be filling such a role. It was a family obligation, I came to understand later, as well as an honor that he had inherited following the passing of his fathers elder brother. In so saying, acting as the proprietor, Oriya had the responsibility of overseeing the care of the geiko and other staff, organizing financial matters and distribution, maintaining the upkeep of the okiya and goodness knows what else. The file didn't go into great depth and my understanding of his position still remains limited to this day. What I did grasp however, was that he was an immensely busy man and very influential and powerful as a result. He was also very wealthy, though he never spoke of having money and hadn't accumulated a number of nice things such as one with a generous windfall might otherwise have done. The girls on the other hand seemed to do much better by their patrons, which I suppose is fair considering what is being asked of them.

Following the murders however, three of the geiko were now deceased and one was hospitalized. The secretary had resigned, as had the maid who had discovered the bodies. One might say that Oriya would have done well with fewer mouths to feed but truthfully, life in the hanamachi district isn't so dire as it might have seemed in the past. Finances have changed a lot since the olden days, so that an okiya could have as many as a dozen or more geiko, as well as the maids beneath its' roof and still pull a reasonable profit. As for Kokakuro, there was no place in Kyoto quite like it; the geiko there were the playthings of the rich and powerful and did very well by their clientele. It was only after I had gotten to know them better did I learn that at least one or two honest to goodness geiko resided in Kokakuro and one of these women was perhaps the second or third most successful and popular geisha in all Japan. She had been for some years, the mistress of Japan's foreign affairs minister and these profits had sustained Kokakuro handsomely and continued to do so.

Kokakuro was just about as traditional and old-fashioned a place as you could expect to find in all of Kyoto and was exclusive to only the most prestigious clientele. You might assume then, that it was located in what is popularly referred to as the center of karyukai ('flower and willow world') which is of course Gion Kobu; where the geisha tradition is at its' strongest in the modern day. This however is not true. Kokakuro in fact, resides on the other side of the river to the famous Gion, in the lesser known geisha district of Pontocho. Now, I have spent a great deal of my life in Kyoto but I have never been so profitable as to have ever patronized any of the geisha establishments. My father however, had been a successful enough business man and was fortunate enough to be invited as a guest to a number of parties in which geiko had entertained. These had always been held in the Gion district, which sprawled over many winding blocks. Pontocho, on the other hand, lay to the other side of the Kamo River and could be reached crossing the Shijo Avenue bridge. Instead of covering a wide area, Pontocho consisted of a single long alley that stretched along the side of the river. Most people seemed to think that it wasn't so glamorous a district as the famous Gion Kobu but I saw in it the same kind of understated beauty and elegance a dragonfly possesses; long and streamline in shape and shining with all manner of brilliant colors when least expected. I thought the way that the weeping willows gracefully arched over the rivers edge to caress the water was quite lovely and the wooden verandah's that stood on stilts in the water seemed all at once decadent and sweetly reminiscent. I felt several small jumps in my heart which said that I was home and the grieving, tiring voices of the city in which I had so long resided had been left behind. Kyoto had always brought to me a sense of peace and disassociation. I'd never been to Pontocho, so I can't pretend that it was a homecoming of sorts but I can say that I had a little tingle in my heart that told me I was in familiar territory once more and the relief at resting back upon this was all too much like stepping backward into your mothers arms, with no sense of shame or embarrassment. All at once, I became myself again, despite the egregious task that had brought me here in the first place.

Kokakuro had been one of the first or second oldest buildings in all Kyoto and had, in its' heyday, resided at the epicenter of the township. Now, after the relocation of the roads and the bridge, it was one of the central houses along the line of the Pontocho district and after disembarking from the bus, we made our way there in less than five minutes. It was a beautiful, well maintained building with a simple sign out front that did not flaunt itself grandly, I suppose so as to not attract unwanted attention. By this time, the rain had eased off a bit and this was more than enough to reconfirm my belief in God.

"Thankyou God!" I yelled at the sky. 003 hooted and spun around my head in a merry figure eight. Gushoshin just stared at us like we were idiots.

"That's right. Just draw the attention of the entire street to us." He grumbled, like the sight of a levitating, talking chicken wasn't enough incentive for people to stare anyway. Besides, the street was completely empty. Hanamachi districts only truly came alive at night. All sane rational people were inside, doing paperwork, sleeping or, if they were lucky, cuddling up to their loved ones and enjoying indoor pursuits of a more profligate nature. I had a sudden, shameless fantasy about a certain gorgeous swordsman and I curled up before an old stone fire place minus our clothes and sipping light blonde lager. Smiling at one another as we spilled it across our skin and laughed at some wonderful joke I'd just told. The image was so good that I decided there and then that it was time I got better acquainted with the object of my daydream.

"Well, let's go meet our employer then!" I sang, floating towards the front entrance of the Kokakuro. Literally floating that is. My feet were three inches above the ground. "I'm sure he's awaiting our humble arrival!"

A nasty thought suddenly occurred to me. Something that I had not considered before I was faced with the amenable prospect of it. Something so obvious I could only begrudge myself for being so ignorant.

What if Oriya wasn't single? I had no certifiable proof that he was unattached! It wasn't as though I had examined his fingers for a wedding band the night we arrived at Kokakuro, seeking answers to Tsuzuki's location. I had been somewhat distracted at the time.

Maybe he was like Hue Hefner and had a whole heap of girlfriends? He did run a bordello after all and he was certainly handsome enough to get away with it. My features sank into a despairing cloud as I envisioned three buxom blonde beauties hanging off of his arms in skimpy clothing and sporting feminine assets I could only dream of having in the event that I ever successfully completed my sex change potion.

What a depressing possibility! Why hadn't I thought about this yet?! Why would a man of his age, of his status of his beauty be single and available to someone like me? So excruciatingly normal and… non-buxom?

Why, I didn't even have any proof that Oriya was interested in men! I seriously doubted that he was gay… and there was nothing to suggest that he was bisexual… or even remotely bi-curious! And even if he was, he could have his pick of men and I'd certainly be right down near the bottom of the barrel. I felt suddenly and acutely depressed.

I hadn't forgotten that I was mad with Oriya for failing to arrange us transportation. However at this point, the nervous anxiety of finally introducing myself face to face with my randomly selected 'True Love' was completely corroding what was left of my brain.

So, when Oriya Mibu finally answered the door and was met by two birds and a drooling, grinning moron, I did not condemn him for his initial reaction. (That of flinching and reaching for where his sword might have otherwise been) After a brief collective examination of my trademark hair however, I believe he came to the conclusion that we were the idiots sent by the Ministry to investigate the murders.

"So," said he. "You must be the fellows sent by the Ministry to investigate the murders."

See? I just have this natural gift of being able to read people. I did however start to believe in wishful thinking when I saw him giving me the once over. Then I realized that my turtleneck was completely plastered to my still very much-wet body, which would cause just about anyone to stare.

"Yep!" I declared, pulling my jacket in tighter around me modestly. He arched a perfect slender eyebrow. "Yutaka Watari, Gushoshin and 003 at your service, handsome!"

I immediately felt a little embarrassed for giving myself over so unashamedly to my emotions and I thought for one dreadful second that I had overstepped my mark and offended him. Fortunately, Oriya was a Kyoto boy so he pretty much knew how to handle himself. He cast a scolding look at me, the type people usually reserve for men who think they're being awfully clever when in fact they're not. He was dressed in a comfortable but slimming summer weight yukata that allowed just the briefest of glimpses of a well-toned chest and long, muscular legs. I didn't even try to resist the urge to eye him up there on the doorstep. His long dark brown hair was tied back at the very base, allowing sensual wisps to glance about his chiseled features, which possessed the barest hint of femininity, particularly around his sumptuous pouty mouth. I must have looked like some ridiculous fangirl the way I lost myself at staring at him in lusty infatuation. His robes were daring shades of reds, orange and yellow and decorated with a simple pattern of wagon wheels and wheat stalks to tie in to the summer motif. But he wasn't flighty at all. His smile was ruthlessly intelligent. I was in love.

"Must we go through the tiresome formalities?" He said, trying to ignore 003 who seemed to have taken an immense liking to a particular strand of his hair. "Why don't we just cut through these pleasantries? There's little time for dalliances after all."

He gave me a wry half smile and my heart skipped a beat. It certainly wasn't the right kind of incentive to get me to behave myself.

"Well," I said as flirtatiously as you can say with one word. "We could just skip it."

Oriya nodded as though this response was both satisfying and appropriate. "Good." He said. His full lips twisted into a slow, warm smile as he dipped his head forward in a deep, old fashioned bow. I felt my breath catch in my throat, giving myself over temporarily to the conviction that maybe, just maybe, I had pegged Oriya for who he was. Right from the get go.

"Welcome to Kokakuro." He said, speaking in that same throaty manner with which he had heralded myself Tatsumi and Hisoka our very first visit here. His eyes met mine and I could see there in the depths, the smallest flash of green. "My name is Oriya Mibu. I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay. My dear Shinigami from the world beyond."

-EC-

A/N: I gave a little extra information about where Kokakuro was situated because it occurred to me as I was reviewing this chapter, that I really hadn't gone into a great deal of detail concerning it. I hope you liked the revision dear readers! If you feel so inclined, please leave a review. I always appreciate hearing any support, advice, idea's or constructive criticism from those that enjoy my work!

Oriya: So she says but I bet she actually sobs herself to sleep if anyone were to say that they didn't like one tiny aspect of her work.

Muraki: Yes, I don't know whether you're just terribly vain or self-conscious!

Hickok: (Bottom lip trembles) Shut-up! I don't have to listen to this sort of shit from you! (Wipes nose on sleeve)

Watari: Ewww, for the love of God; use a tissue like a normal person! (Passes her a box of tissues) Wiping your nose on your sleeve is such a Tsuzuki thing to do.

Tsuzuki: It is not! (Own lip starting to tremble) Don't be mean to me!

Oriya: Well done, now you've got him going as well. We'll need two boxes of tissues in here before the night is over. (Hands over his handkerchief to Tsuzuki who blows his nose noisily) And tuck your lip in before someone comes and sits on it.

Count: (Chuckles creepily and makes a clucking noise at Tsuzuki)

Tsuzuki: (Sucks his lip in so quickly that it makes a sluicing noise)

Saki: (Waves) Thanks again for reading everyone! We'll see you in chapter eight!

Watari: (Pumps fist) Hells yeah! More fun at the Kokakuro for Watari-san!

Oriya: (Slumps down face first onto the table) I feel exhausted already…