Disclaimer: No! I don't own it! Don't claim any responsibility for creating any cool Descendant's of Darkness characters, so no suing please? (Big beaming smile)
Note: Hooray everyone! This week I finished Silent Hill 4: The Room! Been working on it for so long that it was such a relief to get to the end of it! Can't wait to play it through again! (Got quite the crap ending. Guess that be some indication as to my gaming ability, ne?) Also finished watching this terrific yaoi anime series called Sukisyo. It is so genki and funny and cute! I recommend everyone to watch it and try and guess which obscure coupling is my favorite! All righty, moving onto Dark Adaptation news: Sorry it has taken so long to get the next chapter up! Had huge case of writers block and this chappie is massive! And I still didn't get to where I needed to go, so I'm afraid it has been split in half! (Only the next half hasn't been written yet) Sorry Mutsu fans! You'll have to wait a bit longer but I'll get through the next chapter as quickly as possible! Scouts honor! (Flashes peace sign) Now, get in there and read the damn thing and please leave me lots of scrummy reviews! It motivates me to work faster, you know! (Call it blackmail if you like but whom do you know that would work for nothing?)
Muraki: (Dr. Satan) Wait! Your newest update of Dark Adaptation is interrupted for this startling and controversial revelation! (Dramatic close up) Ladies and gentleman, Yutaka Watari is actually… (Camera swoops in on Muraki's SD super announcement expression)… A HOOKER!
Oriya: (Pimp-Boy) (Inhales his pipe and starts to choke)
Watari: (The Mad scientist and NEWLY REVEALED part time hooker) (Death glares Muraki) I am not. And don't encourage him NaPap.
NaPap: (Her Bigheadedness) Sorry! But as Shigure put it in the Fruits Basket manga (that I promised never to read but oh well!) he stated that controversial news is more likely to make readers sit up and take notice! I wanted to see if it would work here!
Tsuzuki: (Chastity Boy) Uh… I think they'd be happy settling for an update, NaPap. (Notices his title) HEY! What the Hell do you mean by that!
Watari: Yeah, I mean if it came down to who got lucky more in fanfiction, I think that Tsuzuki has a better chance of being labeled a hooker than me! (Finally notices Oriya choking to death and runs to save him) No, don't die Ori! You've already been through so much!
NaPap: And on that note, time to get back to good old Kokakuro and find out if Oriya is going to be okay! Strap on your geisha's people as we join our favorite ho's and hookers, for another fun filled addition to Dark Adaptation!
Watari: (Saves Oriya and then starts to beat the shit out of Muraki and NaPap as the scene fades out)
WatariI moved without thinking but even my preternatural instincts were not fast enough. My hand snatched vacated air, which jeered snide remarks through my fingers as Oriya slumped to the deck, facing outward towards the darkened yard. His long brown hair collapsed in a bundle around his shoulders, like twin curtains closing over a performance stage, to the applause and standing ovation of an excited crowd.
"Oriya!" I gasped, not understanding and afraid that I did not understand. What had caused this proud, unshakeable man to scream in such agony only moments before? What had that greasy pervert done to my-
I quickly shook that thought away. Where did I get off thinking that Oriya was mine? I mean… I would have liked for him to be mine exclusively but it was far too early to integrate the term so casually into my thought patterns. I would do well to monitor myself there.
Oriya had hit the decking with such force; I was frightened that he might have cracked his skull open. I knelt by his side quickly, fingers at his pulse and then positioned before his mouth, measuring both his breath and heartbeats. They were normal, which was a good sign. Akemi came bustling out a moment later and knelt down on Oriya's other side, sliding her hands underneath his body.
"Help me move him to the sitting area, Mr. Watari." She urged. Some primal emotion roared in my chest and I had to willfully restrain the urge to bat Akemi away, as though she were an intrusive butterfly. But even the flapping of a butterfly's wings can give birth to a tornado, which would devastate the lives of many halfway across the world. And this gentle woman under the guise of honest to goodness sincerity could so easily have caused irreversible damage to Oriya by moving him, even slightly. I grasped her wrist firmly but not hard enough to leave a mark, or to painfully restrict her movements. Her dark eyes looked at me, with no innocent curiosity but with matured impatience. The creature in my chest and the rational side of my literal self, which was busy flipping through its Rolodex of medical options, were in utter agreement about how to handle this situation. Don't move him. Don't let anyone else touch him.
Though I couldn't help but think that they were agreeing for very different reasons.
"We shouldn't move him." I advised, releasing her wrist the moment I started talking. "We don't know what's wrong with him. There may be an injury in his back. Moving him could cause serious spinal damage, so we shouldn't attempt to do so until we know for sure what took place out in the entrance hall. Does he suffer from sciatica?"
"It's not a spinal injury you big dope." Akemi sighed with thinly veiled amusement. Her hands slid slowly underneath Oriya's chest and my body tensed. "The gentleman that he escorted out kicked him in the leg. His left leg. He has a permanent impediment that runs from his hip down to his ankle."
"He does?" I helped Akemi roll Oriya onto his back, carefully adjusting his leg so as not to further agitate him. Oriya's head flopped inelegantly to the side as though he were a puppet, his handsome features pinched with a pain that had burrowed down into unconsciousness like a persistent tick that he could not burn out. I could see his eyebrows twitching up and down in a sporadic dance to the silent agony weaving its harmony from this injury I'd been totally unaware of. "But… but he never expressed any outward signs of suffering from such a debilitation. I never noticed a limp. And I've seen him move quite easily on it." I had of course been thinking back to the dual between Oriya and Hisoka three months ago. The samurai had seemed perfectly healthy. Too healthy in fact. His skills were advanced to the point where I could have easily categorized them as 'supernatural.'
Akemi nodded solemnly as she placed her hand on Oriya's creased forehead, her thumb soothing out the bunched lump of tension that had knotted between his perfectly sculptured eyebrows. Even in a moment like that, I couldn't help but notice what an incredibly beautiful man he was. How exotic and regal the structure of his face was, the cut of his jaw and the shape of his eyes, angled sharply at the corners in a manner that suggested his pure blood Japanese ancestry. His breathing at that moment was harsh and agitated; as though he were profoundly pissed off at being out cold and was attempting to throw off the dark layer of unconsciousness that had collapsed on top of him. I watched his sensuously full lips part to make way for the accusatory hisses of air that he sucked back into his lungs like the intake of smoke from his pipe.
I had been so caught up in my observations that I'd missed what Akemi was saying completely. When I asked her to repeat it, she raised her eyebrow but didn't say anything derogative, though I wouldn't have held it against her if she had. It wasn't as though I was being discreet about my perverted tendencies.
"I said, that Oriya doesn't normally allow the injury to dictate his day to day activities," She said as we moved Oriya into a sitting position, squatting on either side of him and gently securing each of his arms around our shoulders. "The injury is not expected to ever fully heal and that's presuming that no further aggravation befalls it. Some days it is particularly painful for him. For a while he had a chiropractor tend to it five times a week but it seemed to have gotten better in the past three months or so, so he no longer thought it necessary to continue their appointments. He always used to have a limp but lately he's been okay. This is going to tear him up if he has go through all that again… Oriya hates being restricted. Well, anyway, let us move him to the sitting area. He'll be comfortable there until he regains consciousness. One, two, three… and lift!"
I was a fraction taller than Akemi, so I had to be careful when I rose to my feet to prevent throwing her off balance. If I had not been a guardian, then I undoubtedly would have found Oriya's weight to be quite formidable to say the least. Six foot four, his muscles toned and bone structure firm. Though he was lean in some places; particularly around the waist, it didn't make carrying him any less of a trial. My advanced strength came in useful as Akemi and I negotiated his unconscious body down the steps and into the garden, illuminated by moonlight. The water feature sounded out a lonely 'donk' as it emptied water from the bamboo cane into the tiny silver pool beneath it. I imagined that without the muffled sounds of the restaurant in the background, this could be quite a peaceful place. Perfect for a lone wolf such as Oriya Mibu to sit with his pipe threaded between his lips and ponder whatever the hell it was that samurai pondered over. I could visualize it quite easily; the first night I had ever set eyes on the purposefully ambiguous man, he had been perched on a rock in that very garden, smoking his pipe in a relaxing and tranquil manner. I'd been intrigued since that very moment. I had failed to tell Tsuzuki but I'd thought of nothing else in the three months since leaving Kyoto to the fire, bloodshed and tainted memories my hometown would now always possess. But none of that had mattered to me. All I had been able to selfishly indulge in had been the thoughts of a mysterious dark haired man; veiled in moonlight and sweeping blood into rain with the lazy aptitude of one whom never doubted nor reveled in his skill. He was frightening and dangerous, his dark hair like wings and the silver blade that darted down to slap through the skin of Hisoka's chest as lethal as the talons of a great night hunter. Oriya was an owl. His eyes found what no other could seek out in the darkness. He struck with an ease that came from understanding his true nature, encompassing an instinct all his own and exploiting it in order to master and perfect this ability to strike again and again.
We crossed the garden slowly, trying to keep the weight off of Oriya's leg. Which basically meant we were dragging his feet along the ground behind us. A little dirt was preferable to further agitation however. It was quite a task getting him up the stairs to the adjacent decking but we finally succeeded and I balanced Oriya's weight against me as Akemi slid open the door. The sitting room was traditionally Japanese with tatami mats spread out around the wooden decking, a small fireplace in the center of the room and cushions upon which to perch one's buttocks for sustained periods of time. However, in some ways it appeared cozier than the other area's of the Kokakuro. There were a great number of landscapes hanging on the wall, all taken of Kyoto in different time frames. Some were even dated in the early 1950's, around the same time that I had been born. Others, I noticed, were of people I assumed were family members, only because of their uncanny similarity to Oriya. I looked them over fondly, feeling somewhat more relaxed as we lay Oriya down on the floor and started gathering together a few cushions to move him onto.
"Is that Oriya's family?" I asked, pointing out a particularly large group photo. Akemi looked over in the direction my finger was pointed and smiled knowingly.
"It certainly is." She informed me as we lined the cushions atop one of the tatami mats and plumped them a few times. "Oriya's very close to his family, despite the fact that they all live in different area's of Japan."
"They look nice," I said moving my hands underneath Oriya's body and prompting her to do the same. She shrugged her shoulders as we positioned ourselves to move him.
"Yes, they're nice enough, I suppose. His sister Asuoko can be a little full of herself however." She explained as we lifted Oriya slowly onto the cushions. He murmured a little in complaint but then fell silent as he settled into the soft padding, fingers and brow clenched tightly. "She's a singer, so I guess it should only be expected. Celebrities are snooty on principle."
Before I could remark on this broad overgeneralization, footsteps echoed outward from the garden and sure enough seconds later, Mami came bursting through the patio doors, panting and clutching her left side. Clumps of her light brown hair had fallen loose from her bun in the hasty dart she'd made from the restaurant area to the sitting room and hung in loose curls around her shoulders.
"Is Master Oriya all right?" She managed to convey through a series of desperately needed breaths. She paused to inhale the cool night air deeply and then brought her face and body upright. "The guests are really concerned! Sonja, Dai and Miyamato managed to get things under control but they told me to come over here and check on him. Should I call a doctor? Perhaps his chiropractor? Just when he thought he didn't need him anymore! Oh, this is awful!"
"Perhaps it would be a good idea to summon a doctor," Akemi mused as she moved to Mami's side, her fingers going to work on the jumble of curls that had fallen loose around her shoulders. "But I don't think it is nearly as bad as you believe it to be, my dear. Come now. Your hair."
"There's no need to call a doctor. I'm-" I cut myself off quickly, reminded off the fact that to Mami I was only a secretary/receptionist and even to Akemi I was a mere detective, neither of which included anything in the job description about a Ministry acquired PHD in Treatment of Physical, Spiritual, Magical and any specified Supernatural or Natural ailments, injuries, illnesses and so forth. " – trained… to handle these sorts of things."
"They train secretary's how to treat leg injuries?" Mami asked quietly, as Akemi pinned her hair back atop her head and returned the bun to its former glory. I bit my lip nervously.
"Did a course at University." I mumbled, smoothing back the hem of Oriya's yukata in order to examine his leg. It appeared that he had taken the impact directly against the knee and that the cap had been jolted out of place as a result. There was a substantial amount of swelling surrounding the joint and when I gently pressed my fingers to it, the flesh yielded and discolored. "All right… his kneecap needs to be slotted back into place but other than that, I don't know if there is much else that can be done." I was already thinking about what potion I could give him to help heal the wound. But the girls didn't need to know about that. "We can see what he wants to do about it when he wakes up. But for now, what would really help is if one of you ladies would be so kind as to fetch me an icepack? Or even a bag of frozen peas. Anything that can help ease the swelling."
Mami looked a little uncertain. She glanced at Akemi as though seeking her validation. "Do you think he really does know what he is doing?"
Akemi did not appear concerned about leaving Oriya in my hands. Knowing that I was a detective seemed proof enough that I had a good idea about dealing with injuries like this. Even if I was a somewhat perverted detective at best. She guided Mami back towards the garden.
"Let us put our trust in Mr. Watari." She suggested calmly. Both girls turned to bow at me. "I shall bring you an icepack as you requested, young sir. Just make sure the master is well looked after."
"You have my word!" I assured her with a playful wink. She returned my cheer with a scolding look before sliding the door closed and blocking out the cool night wind, which whispered suggestions of rain between the flicker of the leaves upon the gardens trees.
I was left alone with Oriya.
Oriya… who was so perfect, so beautiful, so… unconscious. I drummed my fingers together as I gazed down at his tightened features, reaching out to brush his straight and somewhat rigid bangs away from his shaded eyes, my fingernails grazing across his skin. I moved closer still, observing him in the silence I'd been finally granted. I watched the rise and fall of his broad chest, noted the lines of his mouth and the shadows of his face. His long eyelashes, beautifully crafted hands and deftly toned arms. I ran my finger down the straight, noble bow of his nose and onto his lips, registering the heat of his breaths as they puffed from his lungs. Something stirred in the region of my stomach. Something that wanted to take advantage of Oriya's imminent recession in a way that was most immoral but so vaguely satisfying at the same time.
I couldn't keep these thoughts at bay, no matter how decadent and wicked they were. It should be a crime to have been that beautiful.
I hadn't said anything but a part of me was relieved that Oriya had lived up to my expectations. To think of someone from afar, to idealize them from a distance causes one to veil reality with romantic delusions. To raise them up on a pedestal and accord them praise and worship, as though they were one of God's angels. … I met an angel once. Nice guy, liked animals.
Oriya wasn't as perfect as I made him out to be. Now that I had a chance to study him without worrying about being caught in the act, I gave him a thorough visual examination, smoothing away the halves of his yukata to reveal a Y shaped portion of his upper body. He possessed an overlapping tan, meaning to say that his body had been exposed to the sun over and over again. Looking closely I could see brown spots on his skin, just beneath his clavicle, extending down to the upper ridge of his pectorals. Freckles. When I moved closer, I could see he had a few faint dots across his nose also. Cute! And expected of a man who undoubtedly spent most of his time out in the sun with his top off. Training. Swinging a sword around, with sweat dripping down his toned and sturdy body…
I had to wipe my mouth to keep from dribbling. Sometimes I swear that I am too detailed in my daydreams.
I could see a trembling occur between his brows and the hardened expression he had worn since moving him suddenly warped into something that all too clearly resembled deep agony. He whimpered in his sleep, fingers opening and closing against nothing. Without thinking, I slid my hand down into his palm and allowed him to seize me. His skin was warm, but not feverish. He clutched my fingers in his fist and squeezed tightly but I didn't make a sound to express my discomfort. All that occupied my present thoughts was that he was hurting and I would have done anything to help ease that pain. I felt so strongly that I could even justify saying that I would have taken his pain unto myself.
But those kinds of spells are prohibited.
"Oriya…" I whispered, pulling his robes back in tightly around his body so that he wouldn't catch a chill. He must have heard my voice, because his lips parted and then pressed together. I had to lean close to hear the hushed words that barely vaulted past his lips before collapsing ineloquently across his chin, like the most feeble high jumper. My ear was right next to his mouth, my hand pressed lightly against his chest.
"Kazu… taka…" He hissed. My eyes widened as the grip on my hand grew even tighter, nearly cutting off the circulation to my fingers. If he squeezed any harder they were likely to all pop off and start squirming around the carpet like extras from The Addam's Family. "… why… why…? … it… hurts… hurts… hurts…" I turned my head slowly as his eyelashes fluttered across rapidly darting eyes, as though the lids caged two feisty moths battling for freedom. I wasn't sure but it sounded as though he were recounting a memory. Something that happened long ago. Or for all I knew, maybe the pain he was referring to, the pain that needed to be exorcised in this unconscious state, was emotional pain. Calling for Muraki, wondering why he had done what he had done. Left him… left him alone with only assumptions of his demise in the University of Tokyo as it burnt to the ground those three long months ago.
"It… must have hurt very badly Oriya…" I said, knowing full well the pain of waiting for news, for one word that might confirm the life or death of someone that you loved. "He must have broken your heart a lot, huh? And now you must suffer through this pain for me… In the absence of Muraki, did you feel the need to protect me? Is it that you long for pain, so that you know that the feelings you have for someone are real?" I smiled a little bitterly perhaps, which was unusual for me. "I guess heartache is exactly what makes it real in the end. Emotional, physical and spiritual pain. But that seems all so dramatic and depressing, does it not? I don't think that to love someone you should have to hurt. You should be able to tell that you care because all you think about is what you feel for them. Wanting to be with them. Wanting to protect them…"
"… it hurts…" He whispered again. I doubted that he had heard my words but at the same time seemed insistent on denying them. Denying them by focusing on the pain, which defined his emotions. The living proof of his sacrifice of affection, his heartbreak and torment that came as a result of placing his care into the hands of those which would afford him such agony. I did not want to be the same to him as Muraki was. I did not want to bring Oriya heartache and misery. I wanted to see him smile because of me. I wanted sunshine for him. And joy. Not misery and tears and… hurt.
His hand tightened on mine and his words became the timid tremor of a child who wasn't sure what was wrong with it. My body swayed down toward the call of his voice before my conscious thoughts had even adhered to my actions. My desire to comfort and ease his pain gave no notice to the rest of my self, all of which had already agreed to this decision to move closer and provide him with tenderness. My chest pressed against his own and my spare hand fell across his forehead, tangling in the straight dark strands of hair, brushing away the pinpricks of sweat that were rising up through his tanned skin. My mouth a bare, insatiable inch from his own, my hand squeezing back with every desperate clutch his unconscious self distributed. It was a position I sometimes assumed in love making, only now I had positioned myself as a means of placating the unwary man. Because of this, the moment became inappropriately evocative and I would have liked to have fooled myself with the stray delusion that we could have been making love in this very way. I'd even allowed my leg to slide between his thighs, my pelvis against his own, though not moving. I could feel his breaths puffing from between his lips. Pain, not pleasure.
Pain was his desire also. Just as it was mine. We both required pain to remind us that our existences were true.
"… hurts…" He whispered softly.
"Shhh… I know…" I told him, pressing a kiss into his cheek, my hand stroking his hair in soothing motions. "I know it hurts… poor baby… You didn't have to do that for me. It wasn't worth this now was it? You poor baby…"
I pressed my mouth over his, no longer able to resist the fact that I was so very close to him. His chest rose and fell beneath my own and I didn't allow the kiss to linger any longer than it took to satisfy my craving, for one mere, unappeasable taste of his mouth. His pouty, full lips were soft and warm. I would have been content if I'd been condemned to kiss that mouth alone for all eternity. When my lips left his, his fingers tightened around my own but no more hushed words threaded out from his sub-consciousness.
I lifted myself from his body, moving the hand in his hair down to surround his cheek with my palm. Someone cleared their throat from the doorway and I looked up, only to receive the punch of a frosty ice pack in the face. Akemi crossed her arms over her chest as she regarded me with mounting skepticism.
"You call that taking good care of him?" She asked, though clearly not desiring an answer because she barreled on ahead before I could so much as pry the pack from my cranium. "Taking advantage of a man whilst he's lying unconscious! My God, I have to wonder where your morals are, young sir!"
I scuttled backwards, putting some space between my own body and Oriya's, the icepack clutched tightly over my thumping heart. Akemi looked fit to be tied and I wasn't afraid to admit that I was prepared to run if it seemed as though she was going to attack. Her eyebrows were axed in my direction but she surprised me by suddenly laughing, her fingers clutched over her lips in that annoying, yet endearing manner that was something of a trademark with Japanese girls. I paused in my retreat, still uncertain as to whether or not this was a sign to relax. Akemi lowered her hands and smiled at me, her expression and eyes as soft as the one whom she reminded me of. She was so very much like my older sister had been when I was alive. I suppose that is why I had warmed to her so quickly.
"It's all right, no need to look so alarmed!" She chuckled, shuffling into the room carefully. "I may be a woman but I'm not ignorant. We geisha have a fine understanding of attraction and not a single member of Oriya's staff has failed to notice the magnetism between both you and the master."
"Uh… I…" Well that was certainly eloquent Yutaka. And I prided myself at being a highly established negotiator. I was being outsmarted by a geisha!
Akemi made a shushing noise and placed a long finger over her lips, either to prevent my babbling from rousing the quiescent Oriya or to prevent me from over exaggerating the seriousness of the situation. She knelt down in front of me and gently brushed her fingers over my cheek. Her smile was warm and completely sincere.
"I shouldn't tease you. Not when I have so much resting on you." She told me, placing her palm against the side of my face. When I raised an eyebrow, showing that I did not quite understand what she meant, she explained. "It's not usual for the master to form such connections with people that he has only known for one day. But you are different Mr. Watari. I understand that already. I do not think that you were just sent here to investigate the murders that have occurred within these walls we call home. I believe that you were sent here to meet Oriya. He has been waiting for you his entire life but with no idea just what it is he's been waiting for."
Her words had engaged my interests. But they unequivocally, irreversibly, undeniably baffled me at the very same time.
"… Um… excuse me Miss Akemi… But I'm not exactly sure what you mean by that…"
She simply smiled. "All you need to know is that I believe your meeting was intended and that is why you are here, no matter what you believe you were sent to do. You truly care about him, do you not?"
I nodded, knowing that it was absolutely true. I had only met him that morning but already I cared for him as I would a friend and prospective lover. Looking back now, I have to admit that circumstances did indeed aspire to draw me there, to him.
Akemi glanced over at Oriya and ran her hand tenderly across his forehead, smoothing back his bangs like a concerned mother. She still wore her smile with the same cheerfulness she had shown me but her eyes were sad.
"He's a beautiful man," She said with a stern look at me as though it were my fault God painted him with a lilac brush. "But he's lonely. Lonely and bitter. He would never actually say anything to our faces but it's clear that Oriya is extremely bitter about this life he has been forced into accepting. That's what he fears the most you know, constriction. He likes and prefers his solitude but he's lonely for the person that could possibly fit into his life. What few people he has allowed in have always disappointed him. Well… I must admit; he is not an easy man to love. He can be a little surly and standoffish at times. Not to mention highly anti-social." She ignored my protesting stutter and extended her hand towards me. "You don't need to tell me. Oriya certainly has his lovable points, which I am more than aware of. Now, put that icepack on his knee, dear. "
I did as I was told, applying the cold package to the swelling abrasion on Oriya's left leg. Akemi watched me like a hawk and only when she was sure I had performed the simple task to her complete satisfaction, did she push herself onto her feet, dusting off the front of her kimono where it had come into contact with the floor. Then she surprised by reaching out with her other hand and placing it across the top of my cranium, giving my hair a little tousle, as one might a child.
"I must be getting back to work. My area is thinning out, so I'll take Area 6 as well for the remainder of the evening. Oh, and before I forget, Yoshi said to tell Oriya that he is to rest. Don't let him hobble back into the kitchen or he'll whack him with a tea towel. Got it?"
"Yes ma'am!" I barked, saluting her in the same mock manner as I had done Oriya only that afternoon. "And don't you worry! I shall tend to his injuries now, so do not concern yourself any more with thoughts of me molesting him!"
"I'm not worried." Akemi said, smiling sweetly. She spun on her heel and left the room, the longer strands of her straight blonde hair whisking out behind her, overlapping the delicate shell of her ear. She paused, her fingers wrapped around the doorframe, face lowered and gaze averted as though she had something to say. An end came to her internal battle and her chin lifted, her eyes on mine. There was no smile, but no edge to her expression either. "I'm glad you're here, Mr. Watari. If there is anything you are in need of, just call for me."
"I… I will Miss Akemi. Thankyou."
With one last bashful smile, she left the room, sliding the door shut behind her. I was a little perplexed. The way she had addressed me at that moment seemed to suggest that she was grateful for my presence not because of the murders but for personal reasons. Still turning this over in my head, I left Oriya alone to go and retrieve my medical kit from the room in which I was staying. The hallways seemed murky and kind of threatening. I knew it was foolish to let the darkness intimidate me but nevertheless, I quickened my pace, counting the number of doors I passed so that I would not overstep my own.
I felt a vibration on the left lens of my glasses, as though someone was tapping it with their finger.
"What is it?" I asked, whipping the glasses off of my face and looking at the clear lenses with my own somewhat blurred vision. The framework shook slightly between my fingers.
"Jus' gettin' a little stir crazy, if ya know what I mean boss?" Came the sound of my constant traveling companion. "I've been snoozing most of the day, dude. Don't be stingy; it's nighttime now! You know how our agreement works!"
"It's only 7:30." I reminded the benighted he-creature. I could see the doorway to my room just ahead. "You are allowed to go out at 8:00. No sooner than that, otherwise how on earth could I hope to pull you back? The bond is not effective until the clock strikes eight."
"You've made exceptions before, boss." The scratchy voice grunted as I slid the door open to my stay room and sauntered in. Gushoshin was already asleep so I was forced to tiptoe around quietly, which was quite the task for a clumsy old codger like me. "Oh, and that reminds me. Would you please STOP REFERRING TO ME AS AN IMPLING? I am not an imp, nor am I a fairy, or homunculi, or whatever other insulting lower level Grimm's Fairytales creature you could possibly think of to call me. I am a djinni. Come on say it with me. I know that word couldn't possibly be too difficult for you to wrap that nerdy little brain 'round, doc. Am I right?"
"Quiet. I need to find my medical case and it's impossible with you yammering on about grammatical correctness." I scolded, sliding the glasses back on against my better sense and adjusting the lenses by lifting up one between two fingers and fixing them more closely to my eyes. "And besides, I don't have much choice when it comes to naming you. The Judgment Bureau forbids the summoning and binding of anything higher than an impling of Level 5. Can you imagine what kind of trouble I'd get in if they knew I had a djinni humping barge?"
The glasses wobbled on my nose. "Oh no! I don't know what I would do if the guy who was holding me captive were to get scolded by the big scary ugly old man! I would just be beside myself with concern!"
"I fail to see how you are the victim in this case, demon. You were running around Obama, clinging to the souls of the dying and then devouring their essence when it was lifted from the body. This was the only way to stop you!"
The djinni sounded smug. "Yep. Bound me into a pair of glasses 'cause you were hopeless in combat, eh? When you saw that you couldn't beat me, you took the easy way out. Just like you always do. And do not call me demon, guardian. You wouldn't like it if I called you Mr. Dipshittington, would you? No. Therefore, I demand the right to be addressed by my proper name."
"It's not the same as… urgh! Never mind, I don't have time for this." I snapped, unzipping one of the still mostly full bags and rummaging for the medical kit, flinging things out behind me as I went. Parchment, files and thongs went soaring through the air, one item of the latter category landing atop Gushoshin's sleeping head like a festive and colorful nightcap. He grunted in his sleep but otherwise made no constructive adherence.
"Well, I really would appreciate it, ya know? Especially if you're going to be discussing me in front of that honey, Oriya." The djinni crooned in a tone as sickingly lovey dovey as mine must have been. I was filled with the sudden and appealing desire to smash my glasses over the nearest hard surface. Which would be ultimately inconveniencing myself. "Can't see very well when yer trapped in glass as thick as the one's you peep through, geek but if he's any nicer than he looks from my blurry gaze, then I tell you what I would like to-"
I finally uncovered the medical kit from beneath an advanced copy of 'Demonic 5th Level glyph translations', and made my way back out into the hallway, only to be ambushed by 003.
003: Hmph… been ignoring me…)
"Hey, hey, what's the big deal buddy? I fed you today!"
The little owl just glared and nipped my ear before taking off down the dark hallway, cooing complaints the entire way. I rubbed my throbbing lobe, utterly confused.
"Think your little birdy friend has a good old fashioned case of jealousy…" Said the djinn gleefully. "Did he bite you hard? Did it bleed? Oh, please tell me he drew a little blood. Blood is pretty!"
There was something to be said for contact lenses.
XxXxXxXxXxThere was only pain…
"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oriya! What'll we do! What'll we do! He's dead! You killed him!"
"It wasn't me who shoved him! And he's not dead. … But I think his… his back is broken…"
"Oh no! Oh God help us! What'll we do? What'll we do! He wont be able to walk again! Oriya! Oriya I'm sorry! Forgive us! What should we do? WHAT?"
"Father. You have to run back to the motel and get father, get him to call an ambulance. Go back to the motel, get father, get our father here NOW!"
"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! DON'T DIE ORIYA! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE! DON'T MAKE ME A KILLER!"
He couldn't distinguish the voices, couldn't tell who was pleading for his life and who remained composed despite the fact that they were all now bequeathed in the very depths of Hell.
There was only pain…
XxXxXxXxXxWhen I emerged into the sitting area, I was greatly surprised to see Oriya awake. He was sitting up, holding the icepack against his knee and clearly still in pain from his injured leg but showing admirable resistance. He was talking on a wireless telephone whilst an elderly woman, whom I assumed was his housekeeper, stood patiently by his side waiting for him to finish. I stood in the doorway, not wanting to intrude upon his conversation, which from the sound of things was pretty intense.
"No. You most absolutely do NOT have to drive up here. Everything is fine; it's only a slipped kneecap. I'll just have it popped back into place and everything will be fine. … No I'm not. You don't think your own son would tell you when he's in pain? … I promise, everything is okay. You needn't concern yourself, Mom."
'Mom?' I felt my spine evaporate into butter. He was talking to his mother! How endearing!
Oriya drummed his fingers against the floorboards for a moment and in a split second was waving his hand around animatedly, nearly battering the poor housekeeper across the leg. She wore a rather strained smile as though she were consistently rehearsing the line: 'I must not move away, it's rude though most likely in one's best interests' over and over in her head.
"No. Don't even think about telling Dad. He's not well enough to be driving to Kyoto, especially at night. … It was just a little kick, tell him to have another pint and watch some commercial television. No point stressing over it. …" He scratched his head and sighed softly. "No, I do appreciate it. I just don't want you to worry over nothing. … … Okay…. Thanks. … Yeah I will. Love you Mom. Send Dad my love too."
'Love you Mom. Send Dad my love too.' I was practically turning into a big puddle of Oriya adoration on the floor. The fact that he was fobbing off his injury so as not to worry his elderly folks just went to show what a selfless man he was. I just wanted to rush on over and hug him until his head popped off! … Actually no, maybe not that hard. That would most likely kill him and it would be messy and inconvenient and not nearly as cute as he was when he'd actually had a head. Plus, it was such a pretty head. It looked just fine where it was. On his lovely, slender, very kissable neck…
I wiped away a strand of dribble that was threatening to nosedive down to the floorboards and watched as Oriya flicked the button across to End Call and sighed heavily, running a hand through his straight clump of bangs. The housekeeper smiled understandably.
"Thankyou Mrs. Koneko," Oriya said as he handed her back the phone. "And if you wouldn't mind, please make it clear to Akemi that I do not need her informing my parents of every minor accident I have. She knows how much they worry. That will be all, thankyou."
"You're most welcome Master Mibu," she said with a waist deep bow. "I'll make sure Miss Aisubi gets the message."
I hung back in the shadows of the hallway until Mrs. Koneko had left, peeping through the gap between the sliding doors at Oriya, not bothering to wipe the little smile off of my face. The djinni in my glasses seemed to approve of my sudden adulation, which had all but painted me into the doorframe like a very lovesick portrait.
"Migh' not wanna let this one get away, boss."
I had no intention of letting go of Oriya anytime soon. Men of his standard were not handed out free on street corners. They didn't grow on trees and they didn't fall from the sky, no matter what the songs say. They were one in a million and as elusive as birds.
I watched as Oriya's features contorted when he tried to adjust his position on the cushions Akemi and I had placed beneath him. I was eagerly prepared to leap to my divested role as helper and nurse but was startled out of my heroic entrance by the appearance of 003's head from beneath the tresses of Oriya's hair. The samurai froze, eyes squinted dangerously as he inched his hand back slowly and then in a rapid snake like dart, snatched the little owl from its hiding place.
003: (Long hair… not as many split ends as Watari…)
"You little bugger. What the Hell were you doing back there? Making a nest?"
003 hooted happily, his head poking out the top of Oriya's fist, the rest of his body hidden beneath the clenched fingers. Oriya wasn't holding him tightly though. 003 seemed perfectly at ease in his temporary cage. Oriya observed him for a moment and groaned wearily as he examined the alcove left in his hair for anything 003 might have left behind. When he was sure there was nothing there, he brought the hand back round and rubbed the top of 003's head with one finger. The little owl cooed contentedly, eyes shut and the feathers around his neck fluffing up as he nuzzled back at the affectionate little touch. Lucky bastard. 003 gets all the good ones.
003: (Feels good!)
"You're a cute little critter," Oriya admitted, uncurling his fist so 003 could sit in his palm. "You just thank your lucky stars that my nieces aren't here tonight because they wouldn't leave you alone."
He was so focused on 003 that he didn't even hear the door slide open as I entered the room. Once I was free from the hallway, the door shut firmly behind me and the medical case propped against the wall, I summoned up the mana within and cast Levitation, feeling gravity lose its hold over me. I rose as high as the roof before Oriya felt a presence and he glanced over to his left, where I had previously been standing. I looked down at him from right above his head, saw his eyebrow rise in confusion.
"I could have sworn…" He mumbled unconvincingly. Above him, I twisted around so that my feet were pointed at the ceiling and then descended on his right side, still levitating just above the crown of his dark brown head. He was still facing the closed door, so I reached out with my right hand, caught the cut of his chin with my fingers and gently turned his gaze toward me. Before he could adjust to what was happening, I kissed him. My lips roughly upside down and diagonal against his own mouth, my body suspended topsy-turvy above him, legs bent loosely at the knee. It was such a perfect scene. As though we were suspended in a vortex and reaching out for one another regardless of circumstances. 003 gave an indignant hoot (Ha! That should show him who's boss!) and took leave of Oriya's hand, allowing the samurai to put his palm around my neck, his fingernails lightly stroking my skin. Parting for only a second of air and trying to ignore the blood rushing to me head, I wasted no time in sinking my lips against the much fuller and delectable ones of my client again; lapping at the interior wall of his mouth hungrily with my tongue. I wound my hand up under his chin, my fingers stroking at the lobe of his ear attentively when I felt his hand go into my hair, pushing me down against the force of the spell so he could gain greater access to my mouth. It was so sweet, the taste of his kiss. Sweet even in light of the ever-present hint of tobacco. And because of the angle we were kissing at, the tops of our tongues were able to align against one another's, the tip of mine working back to where the salt tasting glands were and running across them experimentally. It was a good way of deducing a man's gag reflexes because the glands were quite close to the back of the throat and someone's tongue there could sometimes cause them to gag in discomfort. I was pleased to find that Oriya had no problem accepting my own probing muscle. He cupped my lips sensuously between his own and sucked on them, fishing his tongue around mine as though challenging it to a dual that it had no hope of winning. He was as skilled in the art of his tongue as he was with the blade. It was becoming very difficult for me to concentrate on maintaining my Levitation spell, so I slowly relaxed it, floating down, excited when I felt Oriya pulling me in against his body. He continued to kiss me even as I rotated around and settled on the floor between his legs. One of his arms was around my neck, his hand settled against my temple and cupping my skull in a very affectionate manner, angling my lips up against his own. His other arm was braced across my chest. I felt safe there against his body, ensnared by what might have been the strongest chains but were actually the perfectly shaped and toned appendages of the dark haired beauty that held me so tenderly. When our kiss finally broke, I found that he had left me breathless once more. Even he was a little short on oxygen, though he didn't pant for air the way that I shamelessly did. His breaths were deep and controlled, dark regal eyes regarding me carefully. One corner of his reddened lips quirked up, as though a piece of string had been knotted through the skin and someone had pulled on it.
"Well…. Might I ask what that was for?"
I laughed a little, in jest of my reckless abandon and beamed up at him, poking his nose with my finger.
"Oh, just payback for the way you surprised me this morning, Pimp-Boy!" I said on a whim. "I'm sorry if that seemed a little… spontaneous."
He shook his head. "Not at all. That's what I like about you."
I continued to smile as I rested back against his warm body, not wanting to close my eyes afraid that it was nothing but a dream and when I woke up, Oriya would be gone and I would be back to my lonely life in the lab. I clenched my fingers into the pink folds of his yukata, reassuring myself that this was a very real person whom I was falling for.
"If my boss caught me canoodling like that with someone I just met, there would be no end to the things he would call me." I had a sudden and accurate vision of Tatsumi bottling me up in a corner and lecturing me about employee/client protocol and how he didn't want anyone in the service of the Ministry to disgrace themselves by coming off as a slut. This construed scene came very easily to me as it had actually happened and more than once. In one particular circumstance his words had been so cruel that it had been more than a year before I was able to speak with him in a civilized manner. Since then he has been very careful in the way he addresses me. It may have had something to do with the fact that I'd punched him in the lip and then let loose a whole army of animated stick figures upon his office. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off guardian.
"Well, I wont tell if you don't," Oriya said, lifting my chin and pressing his lips to mine with an amused smile. It was a soft, juicy kiss and he chuckled throatily when it ended, his forehead pressed against my own. "Hmm… I could get used to this. That mouth of yours was made to tempt me."
I tucked my head underneath his chin, pushing my lips against the extended artery and nuzzling it. I could feel his breaths moving in and out of his throat and I ran my fingers across the brown spots on the visible patch of his chest. My hormones were purring in deep satisfaction. I'd never been in the presence of someone like Oriya before. Someone who could make me feel aroused and relaxed in equal measure. The soothing motions of his chest rising and falling. His heart beating against my ear.
"So… you really like me then?" My voice was more shy and timid than I had ever heard it. Oriya smiled at my hopeful tone, his hand running across the back of my head. His lips distributed a warm assurance against my forehead.
"Very much," He replied in that husky, gruff, sexy voice. "Very much Yutaka."
"Why didn't you just cut straight to the point and ask if he wanted ta go ta bed wid ya?" The djinni asked in a stage whisper. "At least I'd have something good ta watch 'till eight o'clock rolls round."
It took me a moment to react to that, though you'd think after fourteen years I would have been used to the creatures kinky jibes.
"Pervert!" I yelled, nearly sending Oriya crashing backwards in shock. "I want no part in sating your unquenchable voyeurism fetish!"
Oriya looked confused and a little hurt as he righted himself. "I don't believe I said anything about enjoying voyeurism, Yutaka. If you are referring to my observations in the restaurant, I assure you it was only at Yoto's prompting that-"
"I was telling off my imp, not the pimp." I said, making sure to thoroughly stress the word 'imp.' Then I caught the rest of Oriya's sentence. "Wait… what was that about the observations in the restaurant?"
"Thanks a lot for the compliment, Mr. Dipshittington." The djinni grumbled. I yanked off my glasses and checked the clock on the wall. It wasn't quite eight yet but I'd let him off early before when he'd been too annoying to handle. Despite his bad behavior we'd been together for so long that I didn't exactly consider him a servant; more so an annoying older brother of sorts. Whom just happened to live in my glasses.
"Ori, I'm going to tend to your leg in a moment but can you hold on until I release this annoying underworld brat?"
He looked a little worried at this. "Release?"
I held the glasses out in his direction trying to ignore the djinni's excited garbling at being placed in close proximity to Oriya without being attached to my face at the same time.
"Keep it to yourself but the little guy I have bound into my glasses is actually a djinni."
Again he looked confused. Oriya was a nice guy but he didn't seem to understand half of what I said at the best of times. But then again, who did?
"Djinni?"
I sought for the simplest explanation. "A djinni is a creature of smoke and fire, mostly employed to the service of magicians or Sahir. The one I am in possession of is of the Jan tribe, the one's that adjust and associate most easily with humans. They're kind of like genies if you wanna twist around the mythology a bit."
"But I wont be singing no 'Never had a friend like me.'" The djinni established as though we had been secretly expecting a musical rendition of Aladdin.
"Capable of metamorphosis; meaning they can change shape. Telekinesis, levitation, spell casting, teleportation and generally being know it all smart asses."
"Why thank you, your Hypocrisy."
"This one is bound to my service though, so he does what I tell him to. In theory anyway. He's only allowed out at night to feed. During the day he rests. Or backchats me, one or the other."
This didn't seem to set Oriya's mind at ease any more than it had been when the conversation first started.
"I see. … And what exactly does this djinni eat?"
"Little children generally. But that's only when I can't get a hold of babies and puppies." I flicked the lenses warningly. "If he had his way, it would be the souls of dying sinners but in my charge he feeds only on the aura's of people by walking amongst them, or in some cases sleeping with them. It doesn't actually harm anyone. So don't worry. If he ever did, I'd know. I have cast a spell on him that would activate should he disobey my instructions. It sends a powerful spiritual shock through his essence, which would disintegrate all his blueprinted physical forms. And he doesn't want that to happen. Considering that he has a very handsome human form at the moment. Don't you my friend?" "Indeed I do." Said the djinni, a hint of pride in its telepathic voice. "Anyway, the point being is that he wont cause any trouble." I made my lips all pouty as I leant towards Oriya, running one finger down his chest. "You don't think I would do anything so irresponsible, do you?"A retching noise came from my glasses. "You can flirt all you like after I'm gone. Let's move it along, blondie! Verf deine arsch, sheisskopf!"
Impatient to get the whiny little bastard out of the way and more than a little eager to be completely alone with Oriya, I placed my glasses on the floor, knelt a few feet away and positioned my hands in the Ejection position. The Ejection spell was short but tirelessly complex, though I'd had more than enough practice releasing the djinni and thus encountered no complications. Once I had uttered the necessary words and made the mercifully simple hand gestures, a bright flash of light came from the lenses of the glasses moving back and forth experimentally before finally arching upward toward the ceiling as though an angel was expected to descend through the roof at any moment.
Djinni have a range of appearances whence summoned. They are always required to take on a material form because the Casual Space (this particular area of existence) cannot sustain them for very long in their natural form. (The older one's are able to became dust clouds and fog which is as close as they can get to their true form but Jann, such as my own, feel more comfortable in human manifestation) Djinn usually attempt to scare their summoner by a dramatic entrance, sometimes by taking on the likeness of Christian demons or impressions of Lucifer. Others take on more poetic visages, such as beautiful women or ethereal entities.
Mine however decided on his "I'm-hot-and-you're-going-to-want-to-have-sex-with-me-by-the-time-I'm done," appearance. Which in essentials resembled a Sailor Moon transformation. I think that's where he got the idea.
It was portentously dramatic, as you would expect. Two ribbons, black and white, arched from each lens of the glasses and spiraled upwards toward the ceiling; circling a pocket of air which had started to throb with purple energy. Dark shadows in the corners suddenly expanded and the lights in the room flickered before fading away completely. He liked to have center stage when appearing before strangers, especially cute guys. When I had revealed him to Tsuzuki, who still happens to be the only Guardian to learn of my pets true nature thankyou, the little bastard actually had the nerve to appear naked, strategically wrapped up in the tiny ribbons. I was worried he was going for an encore performance now, in which case I would have no choice but to strangle him with the ribbons and then hang his body from the rafters.
The ribbons mixed with the energy so that they were outlined by a purple light, which intensified into a brief and blinding flash, almost like someone taking a photograph with a ten-foot camera. Heavenly music filled the air. Why he found the sound of a professional boys choir, who all sounded suspiciously like eunuchs, to be Heavenly and glamorous is beyond me. The scent of redwood, cherry-bark and every single flower imaginable wafted out from the light. The effect would have been so much better had Oriya been allergic to pollen and starting sneezing incessantly which would have humbled my djinni a bit I would think. But no, Oriya was actually mesmerized. Feh, it was only because he probably hadn't seen too many magical displays in his time. I imagine it had a similar effect to that of an eighteen-year-old boy when the stripper finally arrived at his birthday party. Not that I would know anything about this personally…
The floorboards rippled as though transfigured into water and a vague glossy white shape took form within the fading maroon light. The shape continued to expand in detail as it circled slowly behind the curling ribbons, which lanced forward to wrap around arms and what I took to be the waist, neck and eventually legs. One delicate foot came down and the big toe plucked the waterized floorboards like the string of a harp, creating exactly the same sound of the instrument itself. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrow, unimpressed.
The minutiae continued to take shape, as though an invisible artist was tracing the lines of life upon a blank canvas. Finally, it became distinguishable as the smooth, flawless, sexless body of a stunningly beautiful article. White and black feathers exploded from the ribbons and surrounded the smooth creature, capturing it from sight for a moment until, with another flash of light, (not to mention an eardrum bursting soprano note from the Invisible Vienna Boys Choir) the djinni was revealed in human form. Fully clothed, I was relieved to see. He posed with one long pale arm crooked behind his head, the remaining feathers sliding down his nubile body and the ribbons caressing every appendage like adoring lustful snakes. At long last the special effects faded away to nothing, the ribbons wrapping around his wrists and up along his arms to form silk like bands. Feet, clasped in expensive black boots, touched down upon the ground, but only the very toes grazed the now still and silent floorboards. I picked up my vacated glasses and slid them back along the bridge of my nose, glancing over at Oriya from the corners of my eyes. He looked captivated and I actually couldn't blame him.
It pains me to admit but the djinni was without a doubt the most striking man to ever exist in the casual world. Perhaps not the most handsome but by far the most androgynously pretty creature to take human form. Which came as no surprise, considering that he copied the body of the most beautiful demon in Hell and then killed the demon so that he alone possessed that body. It was sincerely difficult to tear your eyes away from him. Though his attitude made it easier once he opened his cheeky mouth.
He was of medium height and slender, his waist a tiny pinch and legs both long and perfectly sculptured, his thighs as slight as the area bellow the knee. Lucky son of a bitch. He had plum colored hair, more black than purple, which clashed nicely with his milk white blemish less skin; more pale and smooth than even Muraki's. His lips were the soft and the most inoffensive shade of pink and his eyes the color of old blood, lined by black eye pencil that gave him a very catlike appearance, enforced by his somewhat defined canines. The ends of his ears were pointed and he had a long rectangular clasp in the left, though each lobe was adorned with four dangling connected squares, each displaying an individual card symbol. His hair was nape length and tied back by a thin waif of cord, allowing the longer, somewhat spiky but in no means messy clumps of bangs and loose tresses to frame his delicately porcelain features. He was dressed completely in black; tight leather pants, vest with the front zipper undone all the way to the middle of his upper body and fingerless leather gloves; which happened to be my trademark, thankyou very much.
I allowed him to pose for a minute before breaking the silence and turning to my samurai beau who was still looking rather stunned. A rather handsome goldfish sort of stunned, that is.
"Oriya, meet Ichibana. Ichibana, meet-but-stay-a-respectful-distance-away-from, Oriya Mibu."
At first Ichibana did not offer to shake Oriya's hand or anything of the nature. Nope, he got to flirting right away. Still hovering a millimeter above the ground, he went to work with a few basic stretches to work out all his newly formed but apparently cramped, human muscles. One stretch involved moving side on and bending his upper body to waist height and stretching like a lazy cat, eyes shut, fingers linked, arms extended before his body and bum thrust out. He finally saw fit to adhere to Oriya's existence and floated over to him, leaning down close to invade his last two inches of personal space, ignoring me completely as per usual.
"Hmm… say, you are cuter face ta face." Ichibana mused as I proceeded to chuck a tantrum in the background, screeching threats like, 'Bind you up in a lamp and throw you into a dark musty cave!' or, 'I'll grind your bones to make my thunder cakes!' You know, those mature witty sorts of things. Ichibana smiled, sensing that he was winding me up and placed one hand (five perfectly manicured fingernails) against Oriya's face.
"We could have a lot of fun with this body, you and me. Pretty, no?" He leered, leaning forward and tilting his neck so that Oriya could take in the full sight and scent of his skin. "I mean, Yutaka's nice and all but he's not much compared ta this, eh?" My threats, meanwhile, were becoming more outlandish.
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HIM OR I'LL BIND YOU INTO A URINAL CAKE AND STICK YOU IN THE MINISTRY'S TOILET WHEN MR. KONOE IS ON HIS FORD PILLS!"
Ichibana wrinkled his nose having the audacity to look slightly perturbed. "Eck! How unsanitary!"
Oriya made a gentlemanly noise of complaint and rested his hand on the back of Ichibana's lovely neck. Before I could succumb to a jealousy induced panic, the dark haired man won my heart forever by shoving the licentious djinni down hard against the floor as though he were little more than a levitating cigarette that needed to be extinguished.
"Sorry but you're not my type," He monotoned and I felt my heart flutter as he gave me one of those rare spine melting smiles. "I prefer blondes."
Rather than look offended, Ichibana sat up and smiled cheerfully. "Well, I suppose there's no sense in blaming someone for being impotent. Got ya work cut out for ya boss." Ignoring Oriya's indignant gasps, the djinni levitated upward, fixing his hair as he rose and then snapped his fingers, materializing a thin but fashionable cloak. Ichibana slung it around his body, pulling the hood up over his head, which was designed so that the left side could be drawn under his chin and tucked into his collar.
"Well, I'm off ta break some hearts." He declared casually, slinging open the doors that lead out to the yard and then stopping to look over his shoulder at us. "What time ye expectin' me home, boss? Eight o'clock, suntime?"
I was feeling generous, so I told him that he could return at ten o'clock rather than eight. "But you know the rules," I said sternly, shaking my finger at him. "No soul sucking, no killing, no this, no that, blah blah blah, we've been through this before, you know the drill."
"True." His crimson red eyes fell back on Oriya. "Question, handsome: Are the girls pretty in Kyoto?"
Oriya nodded. "Yes. Very pretty."
"And the boys?"
"Also very pretty. Some even prettier than the girls."
Ichibana smiled a little fiercely. "Very nice. I think I'm gonna like this town. On that note boss, while I'm out is there anythin' ya want me ta be gettin' ya? Chemicals, snacks, souvenirs, condoms? Don't know if you'll have much use for them though if Mr. Impotent fails to rise to the occasion."
I almost choked on my own breath whilst Oriya smiled in that maddeningly calm way I had come to interpret as him disassociating himself from the situation at hand.
"No! No… um… none of that will be necessary, Ichibana. Thankyou."
He shrugged. "Suit yerself. But don' come cryin' ta me when ye're infected wit' crabs and genital warts."
"I have neither crabs nor genital herpes." Oriya said with a frown and I went as red as a fire hydrant. So… he naturally just assumed that he was the one Ichibana was hinting at me sleeping with? Well, I mean, of course he was but hearing him sort of admitting responsibility filled me with a brief and uncontrollable excitement. I just wanted to leap on him, bad leg and all and rip his lovely pink yukata to shreds.
Ichibana of course knew my thoughts every bit as well as I knew his own. He winked at me confidentially, one white fingernail tapping his temple.
"But of course, Guardians cannot catch STI's can they? My mistake. Well, best be off while the aura's are lively and fresh. Got a feelin' I wont be the only one gettin' lucky tonight and I ain't just talkin' about the one whom gets with me, if ya catch my drift?"
On this cheeky note, he disappeared up into the dark sky, considerately leaving the doors open. I used this responsibility of closing them as an excuse to hide my hideously blushing features away from Oriya, feeling slightly uncomfortable now that the implication of sex had been so deliberately planted in the scene. It had of course been Ichibana's intention and not a cruel one at that. He was a teaser but not a malicious creature by nature. In some strange way, I guess he thought he was helping.
My God… having sex with Oriya… just imaging it; our bodies locked in sweaty embrace, voices crying out in ecstasy, fingers clenching sheets, the sound of skin slapping together, a wave of dark brain hair tossed backwards across a broad tanned back whilst the owner screamed indefinable passionate sounds at the ceiling as his hips bucked against my buttocks, allowing me a pleasure I had not ever found to be so euphoric.
"… I'm not sure how you could stand to have him in your glasses all day…" Oriya murmured, breaking through my once again far too detailed daydream. "I wouldn't want to be carrying around someone I couldn't stand."
I looked over my shoulder, surprised. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well… I assumed since the two of you couldn't get along for a second that-"
"Learn not to assume. I love that guy!" I exclaimed with a wide smile. From the look on Oriya's face I got the distinct impression that he was not expecting that. "It's like having one of my older siblings along for the ride! He's a pain in the ass but he can be a lot of fun! Anyway, enough about that, let's tend to your leg. How is it feeling?"
"Constantly throbbing," He confided as I retrieved my medical bag and knelt down by his side, all coital thoughts on hold in light of my professionalism. "It doesn't really start to ache though unless I move." He was silent for a moment and then, with barely restrained tears in his voice, he asked; "This is… bad isn't it? The leg was already dickey to begin with and now… I'll probably have to go back to that goddamn leg brace. Knee reconstruction… never walk properly again or move with ease." Oriya's face seized up, a mixture of both agony and despair. "Shit! What the Hell was wrong with me? I should have been more careful!"
I lowered my head. "I'm sorry… if it wasn't for my rash actions with that guy who… touched me…" I stopped, my voice dropping down into a black crevice and disappearing completely. I couldn't explain to Oriya why I had reacted so foolishly to one easily dismissible little grope. I shouldn't have let it get to me after all these years. It was no more his touch than the identical touch from Oriya had been.
But… it was different. I had chosen to let Oriya in; thus giving him permission to touch me. The man at the table had not and that was what made the touch the same as the one I had felt so many years ago. In a different lifetime. The unwanted touch that ultimately landed me here. And the memory of that touch had landed Oriya in the scattered remains of my broken life and they had cut him mercilessly to shreds.
I felt Oriya's fingers on my face. He lifted my chin up. "That's nonsense. Don't you dare blame yourself for this. He was in the wrong and I have done the exact same thing for any one of my staff that are mishandled by those using this establishment as a means of flouting their hormones. Don't you get it now? That is the reason I didn't want them to send you here. You're pretty and you look like fun and a good time. Your long hair and open smile makes men think they can have you."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Oriya had requested that the Ministry not send me because he was trying to protect me? From lecherous customers?
He looked on disapprovingly as I laughed. "That's the truth Yutaka. You shouldn't laugh at it if you have any respect for me at all."
I smothered my giggles in an effort not to upset him. "I'm sorry Oriya. But honestly, you don't think that someone like Hisoka, would be just as likely to attract unwanted advancements?"
He shifted a little and gritted his teeth against the pain of his injury. I held his hand until the wave passed and he was left in its wake a panting mess. His weary eyes finally reopened and looked into my own.
"Possibly but not as much as you would and have done so already. You need to understand that I have been doing this for a very long time; it is a requirement of my occupation. Men here are more likely to go for a male whom looks-"
"What? Easy?"
He looked at me angrily. "I was not going to say that. Do not put words in my mouth, sir. What I intended to say was men here are more likely to go for a male whom looks friendly, open to suggestion, feminine and most importantly experienced. Now I'm not sure how you would rank your sexual experience Yutaka but you move as though you have some. You're flirtatious, considerate and nurturing, you sway your hips when you walk, every second sentence is signed sealed delivered with a wink and your posterior is well defined, very much like a woman's. That boy, Hisoka, is indeed attractive in a whiny pubescent sort of way but he is cold and unapproachable. Men here would very well have made passes at him but would be less inclined to touch him because he appears underdeveloped, inexperienced and aloof. Sexually undesirable."
"Your pal Muraki didn't seem to think so." I hissed, anger flaring up inside of me.
Oriya's features froze and I realized, in one stunningly cold second of dread that flushed through every vein in my body like ice, that he had no idea what Muraki had done to Hisoka.
"… What… what do you mean like that…?" His voice had become so soft I could have gathered it together and made a pillow. Though I never wanted to rest my ear on such words that though supple were filled with such… antipathy. … No, not even that. Terrified… terrified of his doubts being given clause for their reality to take manifestation in this world as simply as Ichibana had, though without the special effects to make them seem beautiful.
003 cooed meekly from his perch in the corner. I had forgotten he was even in the room.
I decided to lie; I couldn't bear to see Oriya go through any more pain that night. My brain slipped into overdrive, shooting out an already plausible excuse.
"Well… you know what Muraki is like." I said ambiguously, clicking open the medical case and removing a pair of latex gloves, which I slipped on carefully. "Look at what he did to get his hands on Tsuzuki for God's sake! And it's kind of common knowledge that Hisoka is pretty fond of Tsuzuki, so I guess Muraki deals with his competitive urges by trying to make Hisoka as uncomfortable as possible. My point being is that if Muraki believes him to be sexually desirable, who's to say that other men would not?"
"I told you, that they probably would but not to the degree that they would you. It is difficult to explain." Oriya sighed and his handsome features crunched together like a knot of pain had just got into a fender bender right in the center of his face. He clutched the icepack on his knee, panting, and sweat popping out in sporadic patterns across his forehead. "Besides… Muraki's an asshole. And you said it yourself; he does it to make that kid feel uncomfortable. Now, enough about why I didn't tell the kid not to come. I wasn't picking on you, Yutaka. I promise you. I didn't want to have to baby sit anyone whilst the investigation was going on, protecting them from the crude advancements of my customers. It would slow progress down I figured and I didn't want anyone to have to go through that. It was a decision based purely on the best interests of all involved."
"I see." Said I without the hint of expression. I was mixing together a potion in a small pullout kit, which was already throwing up choking great clouds of smoke. Oriya regarded me inoffensively; his expression warped into what might have been livid through the spirals of steam.
"Still…" He said. "Now I am very glad that they sent you instead."
"They weren't going to send me. I had to beg to be allowed to take the case," I informed him tartly, adding the exact and carefully measured drop of Angel's blood into the elixir I was brewing. The potion sang a soft note as the tear hit the surface and a distinctive arch of golden light rose out of the beaker, turning the steam canary yellow.
Oriya's eyes widened slightly. "You begged to take the case? … Was it because you wanted to meet me?"
"Amongst other things," I said, thinking about the one that I loved and her body that now rested in a morgue somewhere. Oriya looked marginally frustrated by my lack of response. Well it couldn't be helped. I was brewing the potion that was going to give him his leg back, dammit! "I'm sorry. I do believe you and as such I thankyou for your thoughtfulness. I'm just mixing together a little something that should help your leg. My response should be more active once I'm done, okay?"
Oriya nodded, his expression marginally relaxed now that he realized I was not mad at him. He rested back on the palms of his hands, eyes on me the entire time.
"Yutaka… you are very considerate. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"My wife did."
There was a silence and I nearly miscalculated my next batch of ingredients as I came to the quite obvious conclusion that the mention of my wife most likely made Oriya uncomfortable. I looked up from the bubbling potion for a minute to meet his eye. He was still watching me, completely unreadable.
"I'm sorry." I said. "It must make you uncomfortable to hear about my marriage. I'm sorry."
He smiled. "Like I said; very considerate." His smile grew and he laughed softly. "Why should it make me uncomfortable, cher? Just because you are a Guardian of Death? Those of us who exist in this world often marry and divorce, or lose their partners in accidents. I've had a lover before whose husband had died. Not you." He answered cheekily before I could even ask the question he supposedly thought I was going to ask. Of course it would have been impossible for him to have dated my wife. "In so saying, I'm pretty used to hearing about ex-partners. I was silent because I just felt a little sad."
"For me? If so, don't be. No reason to feel sad for me!" I said beaming. He shook his head.
"No. I felt sad because you wanted to know so much about me when you stepped into my world and I know nothing about you. I haven't even bothered to ask." He looked up at me, his expression uncomfortably serious. "Would you tell me? We can talk over dinner. I'll have it brought to us and I can learn a little more about who you are, Yutaka Watari. I would like that."
I dropped the final ingredient into the potion, my smile lacing up my cheeks like elaborative embroidery of contentment.
"I would like that too. But first, we should fix this leg right up. Here you go, it's best to drink it when it's hot." I plucked the little tube away from the Bunsen burner, extinguishing the flame with a muttered spell. Oriya looked at the sparkling gold fluid skeptically.
"What is this exactly?"
"A healing elixir I created. It proves highly effective against mortal injuries as long as they are treated within two hours of infliction. Guardians unfortunately, cannot induce it."
"Is it safe?" he gave the tube a little tap with his fingernail as though doing so would reveal any dangerous side affects. I nodded.
"Oh yes, perfectly safe. I went through about seventeen test subjects before I managed to get it right. Including you, this will make eighteen! … I'm kidding!" I laughed as he tried to crawl away from me, a look of disbelief on his face. "It's made from a donation of angels blood, given as a gift to the Ministry of Hades from Heaven itself. Angel's blood can mend any mortal wound but is highly toxic in large quantities. If guardians are exposed to even a minimum amount of it, it can cause catastrophic damage. To us, it is similar to breathing in refuse from radiation. That's why I use the smallest amount possible, whilst making up the difference with additional medicinal substances and herbs that nullify the toxic effect angel's blood has. You wont need knee reconstruction if you take this! It goes directly into your bloodstream so it should reach your knee in about… half an hour at most. It will numb the pain enough for me to effectively jot your kneecap into place without too much difficulty. Your leg should be back to normal, although you may have a residual limp, which should take some time healing. Sorry, but I cannot do anything about your original injury… By the way, how was that caused if you don't mind me asking?"
His head was lowered but his voice reached my ears very clearly. "I fell."
I looked through the steam of the potion at him.
"Fell?"
He nodded. "An accident, some years ago now. I was sixteen. Fell down a cliff. Broke my leg in about half a dozen places. Broke my back too." He shrugged carelessly and plucked the potion out of my fingers, slugging it back in one go. "It's dreadful!" He added, pulling a face.
My mouth was suspended in a gasp that never came, hanging clear off the hinges. I'd never been afraid of heights before but the very idea of dropping down a cliff with no hope of saving yourself filled me with a new type of fear. If I had been alive and a child like Oriya had been, the horror of the experience alone would have been permanently scarring, never mind the injuries that would have resulted.
Oriya smacked his lips, his eyes creased and mouth pulled back in a grimace. "Terrible stuff. It had better work if it's cheeky enough to incinerate my taste buds." He noticed my expression and paused in the act of wiping his mouth on his yukata sleeve. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Y-You… broke your back?"
He nodded, seemingly unconcerned. "It was an accident. And since I was able to walk again, I don't see it as being altogether a serious one in retrospect."
The expression on his face was a complete contradiction to the casual use of his words. He wanted to appear flippant about what must have been a terrible period of his life. I'd seen people confined to wheelchairs after breaking their backs, never to walk again. I could only imagine how this must have affected someone like Oriya, a martial artist. A free spirit.
I finally understood the meaning behind his unconscious ramblings. 'It hurts… it hurts…'
"Oriya…" I whispered sadly, for he had suffered so much.
"Don't Watari." He said, and his voice now possessed that cold admonition. "Don't pity someone like me. I'm not worth that."
"But-"
"I'll call for dinner," He said, ignoring my protests and retrieving a small pager from his yukata pocket. "And then, I want to hear about you. Considering what secrets you have learnt about me, I feel it is more so an obligation that I learn a little more about our resident science geek."
It was perfectly romantic until that closing line. Perhaps there was something to be said for contacts after all.
XxXxXxXxXx"Yutaka Watari; born on April the 18th at 1953. Age at death; 28. Was married at 19 to high school sweetheart Tamiko. Favorite food is Italian. Favorite color is coral. Apparently enjoyed swimming as a hobby and has a love/hate relationship with Hokkaido Crabs."
"It's so hairy!" I squealed gleefully, trying to crack the legs off an entire crab by beating the bastards' squat furry body against the plate whilst holding onto the legs. Oriya watched this display in amusement for a while before he mercifully extricated the crab from my hands and snapped the legs off with barely a flick of his wrist. He handed them back across the table to me with a tolerant smile. "Tell me a little more about your life when you were alive. You say you had a PHD in Mechanical Engineering? That must have been interesting."
"I like to make stuff." I declared through a mouthful of crabmeat. To be honest, I didn't like crab all that much but I didn't want to offend Oriya by turning down any of his food. Therefore, the crabmeat went down with quite a bit of difficulty. I managed it though, albeit with a few good concentrated saké chases to ease the transition process. Then, like a nightmare, Oriya conjured another crab as though from thin air and the entire leg twisting, beating, saké-gulping process began afresh. Crab… King crab… (Nuzzles crab) I ate crab more so for the novelty of it, rather than any obligation to my stomach. "I was married in my second year at University, so it was difficult to balance my responsibilities out equally. It must have annoyed my wife. She used to get in my face about it sometimes. I would get so wound up in my assignments and projects that I wouldn't have much time for her. Must have been a bastard to live with."
"Were you together long?"
I managed to get through my last leg of crab without needing a chug of saké to wash it down. Mrs. Koneko diligently moved forward to take our trays away, leaving me sitting face to face with Oriya, nothing between us. I felt an uncomfortable stirring in my stomach, which had nothing to do with my digestive system trying to bitch slap the crab into submission.
"Everything was wonderful, thankyou." I smiled at Mrs. Koneko, ignoring Oriya's question in place of manners. He too thanked his housekeeper before drawing his eyes back to me expectantly, tapping his fingers on the now rather floppy icepack across his knee. It gave me the perfect excuse to change the topic. "You know, I think that potion must have reached your knee by now. It should be feeling warm around the injury. Do you feel any heat there?"
Oriya shifted a little. "Not really. I feel warmth moving through my thigh but not down near the injury, no."
I shuffled over to his side and set my hands on the area of his leg, just above the bruised kneecap, feeling for the change in skin temperature that indicated the rapidity of the elixirs movement. Sensing nothing, I moved my hands up a little further, fingers wrapped around his thigh and thumbs rubbing in a circular motion. I could see the mark from where I had pinched him before. About halfway up his thigh I felt the heat that signaled the process of the elixir.
"It's moving slowly but your circulation must be a little sluggish as a result of the previous accident. That's to be expected. By making some motions here, I should be able to manipulate the blood flow," I said working both hands up and down the tanned skin, rubbing hard enough to work any knots out of the muscle. Oriya made a little noise that had nothing to do with pain. I glanced up to see that his face had a very serene expression on it, no smile but any pain either. And I realized how simply this moment had turned from a mere excuse for avoiding a thorny subject, to something quite sensual. Seeing that Oriya was enjoying my ministrations, I continued to increase the pressure in my palms and fingers, moving them further up his thigh and then down again, rubbing both underneath and above. He murmured gruffly, his head tilted back like a big puppy dog that I was lavishing attention on. I enjoyed that indulgent expression on his face.
"Mmm… wish I'd had you taking care of me all those years ago. You do a lot more for me than those damn chiropractors ever did." He held up his finger, showing me the little band-aid. "This is the second time you've treated my injuries tonight. Starting to think I owe you something."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" I exclaimed, leaning forward and pushing aside the icepack so I could place a kiss against his bruised knee. I beamed up at him. "I forgot to kiss and make better, this one. A doctor should be more concise, eh?"
"Yes, I suppose he should." Oriya said, though he sounded distracted. I moved my hands down his thigh, setting my fingers gently on the knee. I could feel the heat of the elixir beneath his skin. "It should be taking effect now. Do you feel slightly less discomfort from the injury?"
"A little." He said.
"Do you feel any pain when I press down? Or does it just make you feel uncomfortable?"
"Little uncomfortable. No big deal."
"Good!" I said cheerfully. "That means I can pop your knee cap back into place!"
He looked shocked. "Right now?"
"Yes right now!" I chirped, rolling up my sleeves and setting my fingers on the roguish kneecap. "The sooner it's back in, the sooner the elixir can start to take effect. And the sooner you'll feel better. I'll get you to count to five, in your own time and then I'm going to pop it right back in. Shouldn't hurt too much. Ready?"
"I guess…" He said, looking less than thrilled. I nodded and he started to count to five. Slowly, his face already pinched in prospective pain. "One… … …. Two…."
"Threefourfive!" I sang and roughly sank the kneecap back into place with a loud crack. Oriya bellowed like a startled walrus and smacked me hard across the mouth. Sharp pain flared through my jaw and I was thrown backwards, my head snapping from the apex of my spine. "HEY! There's no need for that!"
"What do you mean, 'No need for that!' You told me to count to five in my own goddamn time!" He roared, holding onto his knee as though the leg were about to take off break dancing of its own accord.
I touched my swollen lip tenderly, feeling hot wetness against my fingers. "I'm bleeding you great oaf! And haven't you learnt anything from taking care of kids? It's the same principle as removing band-aids from their scrawny little arms, you don't tell them when you're going to rip so they won't expect it! It gets it over and done with faster!"
The pain in Oriya's leg seemed to be dimming, as did his temper. Though a part of me, the part closest to my bleeding lip was starting to wish it would go on a little longer. The pain, not his temper. He carefully bent his leg, winced and then appraised me carefully, his dark eyes apologetic.
"You're right. I apologize for hitting you."
"You big bully! That hurt!" I said with tears in my eyes. "After I've taken care of you all evening this is how you repay me!"
"I know. You're right, I'm sorry."
"You shouldn't lash out at people like that! You never know what-" I was unable to finish the rest of my sentence, as Oriya had grabbed a handful of my collar, pulled me against his body and swallowed my bleeding lips between his own. I could feel his tongue lapping the hot liquid away and sliding across the tiny cut he had made whilst it healed. It feels wrong to admit but something about that moment was vaguely erotic. I groaned, forgetting all about being angry with him and twisted my arm around his shoulder, clinging to him like a vine upon latticework. As his tongue entered my mouth and began to explore the creases and crevices hidden within that warm nook, I could not find myself distracted from his meandering hand, which had settled upon its apparently favorite roost once more. That being my backside. He squeezed me tightly and my mouth fell away from his to release an embarrassingly aroused moan of pleasure as his fingernails clenched around the lowest inward curve, which was so very close to my now active desire. Oriya regarded me like a victorious predator, his lips tweaking up as though to show that my reaction had pleased him.
"I believe that one kiss has been enough to successfully remedy this situation, wouldn't you say my dear Guardian of Death?"
I spluttered in protest as he released me, wanting to do so much more now that I'd been granted that tiny sample but Oriya had noticed something I had not. There had been a knock upon the door.
"Come in." He called and Mrs. Koneko entered, holding a bundle of black and blue and maroon material in her hands, folded carefully of course. "Ah, thankyou Mrs. Koneko. Just leave it here by my side."
Mrs. Koneko placed the material down on the floor by Oriya and bowed at the both of us. She was polite enough to ignore my ridiculous pose, which had me sprawled out across the floor with my legs crooked at the knee in an attempt to hide the slight bulge in my pants. She merely bowed and dismissed herself from our company, closing the door behind her. As soon as the wooden slats had erased the last visible inch of space, I was on my feet again and I dove for Oriya intending to throw him backwards and smooch him until he was thrashing for breath. But Oriya was a lot nimbler than I expected with that leg and managed to twist far enough to the side so that I landed on my face.
"Oww…" I complained, pushing myself off of the dirty floorboards and wiping dust bunnies off of my glasses. "Oriya, you can be such a tea-… ee…" I was unable to finish the sentence. My eyes must have looked like big googly dinner plates from behind my glasses and I'm almost positive that I had been reduced to the state of dribbling again. Only this time, I wasn't entertaining a daydream.
Oriya laced his fingers around the folds of his yukata and drew them apart delicately with his fingernails, revealing his tanned, muscled body all the way down to his navel. I could feel blood rushing to my cheeks. I don't know how any blood managed to make it into my face at all, considering that most of it was being redirected toward an important detour down south. My teeth were damn near biting through my lip as he casually slid one arm out of the sleeve and the moved to release the other one, leaving one half of his upper body entirely exposed. Fantastically sculptured contours, a rippled abdomen and flat stomach, wide shoulders, strong beautifully shaped arms and erect copper nipples…
"What are you doing!" I yelled, unsure to whom I was speaking. He looked over at me questioningly, his right arm already halfway out of the sleeve.
"… Changing…?" He replied tentatively, as though afraid that this may have been the wrong answer. I wanted to turn my back on him, give him some privacy but the perverted side of me was much happier facing him, though I just wished I could reign in my body a little better. I was sending strict mental warnings to my nether regions, which came off sounding like a drug store holdup: "Do not… move." But when has any mans penis ever listened to him? I was actually more concerned about my face, which was burning up so badly it was a wonder the sprinkler system didn't come on.
"Changing?" I repeated meekly. He nodded, still frozen in premature changing rictor mortis.
"It's the evening and I've been told to rest. In the evening, I change into my evening yukata. So I can be comfortable." He regarded me carefully, like someone would a dangerous rattlesnake and then said, with a hint of sarcasm, "Is that okay?"
I was trying to hide underneath the loose tresses of my hair. "You're quite content to do it in front of me?"
"Well I can't exactly get up and go into another room. Besides, we're both adults. You're a doctor, I'm sure you've seen this and more before."
'No… I've never really seen a body like yours before. Discounting Tsuzuki of course…' I thought to myself, head drooping down and trying desperately to train my eyes on the floor. 'Oooh… this is bad. Tatsumi would kill me. Mr. Konoe will probably fire me, as if I wasn't infringing on the case already due to personal reasons! I'm such an idiot…' "Hey, are you all right?" For Oriya had ceased in undressing and was clenching his teeth in discomfort, arm still halfway out of the sleeve. I moved to his side, battering away my hyperactive hormones with a mental fly swat.
"Uh… my backs a little tender. That kick must have set off the old injury there too." He looked up at me imploringly. "I don't suppose you would mind helping me change, would you?"
…
I wondered what I had done that God was so pleased about.
I tried to sound casual about this. "Oh sure, sure. No problem at all."
He smiled knowingly at me as I moved behind him. "Sure your delicate libido is up to the task, Yutaka?"
"I'm sure I can handle it." I said, trying to sound confident but my fingers were shaking as I placed them on the collar of his yukata, which was halfway down his broad and beautifully toned back. I wanted to touch the skin so badly; to dig my fingernails into his lovely flesh and trail my lips across the slight indent where so long ago an accident had broken him. And at the same time, the less than hormonal part of me wanted to fling my arms around his chest, cage him in tightly to me and spew a thousand cheesy, soppy promises I had no hope of keeping. And to make known to him a thousand of my own hurtful, shameful secrets without feeling the need to change the conversation.
Oriya noticed my hesitation and glanced over his shoulder. "Hey… you can start anytime you know. I won't bite."
'No. That would be too much to hope for,' I thought bitterly, helping him shrug his arm out of the yukata sleeve and allowing it to slide from his lean body. He was wearing boxers underneath the robes, for which I was a little disappointed but figured that it was ultimately a positive thing, otherwise I would have just ended up dribbling down his back. Which men found so very sexy, oh yes indeed.
I patted his bottom gently. "Lift your ass up so I can slide this off." He did as he was told which gave me a feeling of supreme coolness as I undid the black and white checkered band from around his waist and whipped the evicted yukata out from underneath Oriya. He grunted as he took the weight off of his hands and settled back on the floor, completely naked now except for his black and gray boxer shorts. My face was flushed. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to touch him all over, trail my fingers across every curve, every patch of skin, every little scar, every little imperfection, everywhere… I now understood the power beauty wields over man. Here we were, basically complete strangers and I had already resigned myself to my attraction. And it wasn't the attraction one would ascertain momentarily whence considering a one night stand or even a momentary fling, no. I had enormous respect for Oriya. I wouldn't dare encroach upon him if he did not desire me, or my affections. … However, if he happened to get totally stinko and under the influence invited me back to his bedroom, I wouldn't have been fool enough to say no. Hey, I'm a man not Christ incarnate. I finished dressing Oriya, uplifted by my thoughts and no longer needing to stare at him like a dry-eyed goldfish. At least not for a few seconds anyway.
I looked down at the back of his head, taking note of the tangles and knots that had accumulated within the chocolate mane, perhaps on account of 003's foraging for a new home. Most likely as a result of his collapse on the deck outside. I ran my fingers downward through the tangles and watched Oriya tilt his head back, announcing a small sound of protest as I hit a snag.
"Hey… would you like me to brush your hair?" I asked, my fingers already trailing downwards over his scalp, spreading the loose strands across his shoulders. Oriya made a deep murmur in his throat, clearly enjoying the attention. "It should help you relax."
"There's a hairbrush in the second drawer of that cabinet just over there," He purred, trailing one hand back to run across my thigh. A shiver ran up my spine. "While you're over there, you can turn the radio on. I'd like to listen to some music. Would that be all right with you?"
He could have asked me if I minded setting my hair on fire and dancing the Can-can whilst singing Ave Maria and I would have agreed whilst he had his hand on my leg. Oriya settled himself into a more comfortable position, smiling indulgently as I crossed the room, switching on the radio first and finding myself imminently wooed by a soft sensuous female voice. A love ballad.
…
Was there something else at work here or was fortune merely running my way for once? I took it as a good sign in any event and retrieved the brush from the cabinet drawer with a skip in my step. The brush had a jade handle and the bristles were soft but firm at the ends. It was completely clean, which was kind of strange considering the length of Oriya's hair. He must have cleaned it very meticulously and recently at that.
I sat down behind Oriya and then scooted forward so that my knee's pressed up against his lower back. I worked the red rope like cord out from the base of his hair and set it on the floor beside me. Oriya shook his hair out, sending the straight brown tresses swaying across my thighs. I scooped my hands underneath the thick delicious waves and separated it as best I could, into three rough parts. Starting at the left side and from the crown of his head, I began to work the tangles out with my fingers, my heart beating a little faster as I handled what must have been the most troublesome yet beautiful hair I had ever seen. The muscles in Oriya's shoulders moved languidly to match the movements of my hands. His fingers cinched slightly at the joints. I had the distinct impression that his eyes were closed and his breathing slightly accelerated to match my own. Having someone else brush your hair, especially when your hair was long like ours, was a sensation suspended somewhere between contentment and delicate stimulation.
My fingers caught in another knot and I got to work untangling it, smoothing out the hair once it was free and then stroking my fingernails down from his scalp again, inhaling his scent unconsciously as I did so. His hair contained the aroma of apples, most likely his shampoo and deeper than that, the underlying presence of male sweat. I worked my fingers from the top layer of hair to the bottom, every inch as lovely as the last. The only sound in the room was the soft music from the radio, a woman's voice, rich in flavor and depth shared small confidences about love that was meant to work out differently and how the rain reminded her of all that she was denied. Lost in these secrets of which any fool whom ever loved could have spoken, I was overcome by the deliberate yearning to lay myself down in Oriya's arms and close my eyes. Sway against him. And fall in love in only seconds. Already, I wanted to be in love with him.
My fingers were now running free through his hair but I continued on in spite of myself, just wanting to touch and caress it with my own two hands for just a little while longer. Oriya rolled his shoulders lethargically, like an old lion shifting in its sleep.
"Hrrrmmm…" He murmured, and as I heard it, knew that it was no longer the sound of a man who was being soothed. I spread his hair out in a dark fan across his back and picked up the brush, setting it directly atop his cranium and running it down slowly, deliberately trying to intensify the sensation. Oriya's head tilted back on his neck. His back arched. He sighed deeply. It was a visual treat watching the slight movements of his body before me. With every tilt he came close to falling against me and I found myself almost wishing that it would happen. Though he'd probably just end up squashing me against the wall, which wasn't conducive to prolonged physical passion.
"I used to do this for my wife." I said as a means of breaking the silence and then mentally cursed myself into eternal oblivion for bringing Tamiko up again. Another sure fire way of snuffing out romance like a cigarette ember. But once again Oriya showed that unrivalled knack for remaining in his current emotional and physical state at the mention of my former sweetheart.
"You never answered my earlier question," He said slowly, in a voice that sounded as though he were drugged. It didn't serve to alter the mood in any way and I continued my task in the same peaceful manner I had started, alternating now between my fingers and brush strokes. "Although… I guess it makes sense that you avoided it. You died at twenty-eight so you mustn't have spent long together at all."
I shook my head, which was pointless because he couldn't see it anyway and concentrated entirely on working the brush all the way down to the base of his hair, which was atop the curve of his buttocks. His breath intake was sharp when the bristles glossed over this area.
"Tamiko and I were divorced two years after we married." I said as I brought the brush down from the top of his head again. "She had an affair. Can't blame her though. This was not too long after she caught me in bed with another man. She was perfectly entitled to take revenge."
Oriya had stilled completely. I guess I had his attention. I just wish it didn't have to be over such a depressing topic. I hated discussing my past.
"She got pregnant to another man," I continued, surprised at how easily I was able to discuss the facts without feeling the pain I once had. It was a long time ago I suppose. "I was a stupid selfish kid and I wouldn't take her back because she broke my heart. We lived apart for three years but saw one another on a regular basis. Either way, there was no chance of reconciliation. We could never love one another the way we once did. It was enough that we could stay friends."
I paused with my fingers in his hair.
"One day she came to visit me with her son. He liked to think of me as his father, since his real Papa wanted nothing to do with him but I was more like an Uncle figure. There was a horrible accident. I was standing at the window, staring out when I saw the car coming. She waved to me from the drivers seat, the kid in the passenger side. They both looked so happy, y'know? Tamiko turned the wheel to pull into the driveway. And some guy coming up the road from the oncoming lane suffered a heart attack and lost control. Smashed directly into the drivers side."
I felt warmth on my leg. Oriya's hand, touching me so considerately.
"The kid suffered minor head injuries. Could have been a lot worse. Tamiko didn't die but she lost both legs in the accident and suffered from internal hemorrhaging. Gave her a year or so to live and that gutsy little lady held on for four. She was so helpless and frail… the sight of anyone's tears or misery for her behalf terrified her. Really drilled home the fact that she was going to die. She knew that but she didn't want it to be the truth. She wanted to be okay. Whenever I came to visit her in hospital, she would beg me to tell her that she would be okay, even though it went against everything I knew was true. I'm a doctor… but then I was only her ex-husband and all she wanted from me was to lie so that she could be strong. So she could entertain a delusion. And so for her sake, I taught myself how to smile constantly and to laugh even when inside I was sad." I continued to brush Oriya's hair, finding myself disturbingly at ease with these facts. "I like to see people happy, Oriya. And so, it wasn't altogether a terrible thing that I learnt to do. And most of the time, I am sincerely happy! That's who I am." I smiled and leant around a little to peer into his face. "You haven't exactly seen me in finest form today but please don't think of me as too much of a crybaby! I'm really very chipper!"
"I know you are," Oriya said softly, running his fingernails down my cheek. "But… Yutaka…"
"Shhh…" I said, returning to my task with renewed vigor. "It happened a long time ago, Oriya. A different lifetime. I didn't grill you about your accident, so I'm sure you wont mind if we just let the topic slide for now, eh? Right now my thoughts are of you."
There was a silence then in which I suppose he turned over what I had told him and in which I immediately regretted confiding in him. Not that I didn't want Oriya to know about me. I didn't want to hide anything from him at any rate but it had been such an inappropriate moment to discuss it.
"Even if Tamiko had lived," I murmured, bringing the brush along the line of hair above his ear and brushing against the delicate shell in the process. "It would not have worked. A year or so later after our divorce, I came hurtling out of the figurative closet, so to speak. Which shouldn't suggest that I didn't love her and won't always love her. But I had been struggling with my sexuality before our split, which I think contributed to it in some ways. Obviously. Maybe on some deeper intuitive level she knew, even before seeing me in the arms of another man."
"I thought you didn't want to discuss it anymore."
"I don't."
"Well then?"
"I just… want you to know me." I mumbled inconsequentially as I focused a few strong brush strokes down along the line of hair across his neck. "… I've never actually told anyone that I'm gay before. I think Tsuzuki suspects, as limited as his own sexual experience is. He remarked once about only ever seeing me with guys… I generally just tell people that I'm bisexual."
Oriya leant back on his hands, looking thoroughly relaxed again. The radio continued to coo love songs to us from across the room. 003 was fighting a gargantuan war with what must have been a flea of Ghangis Khan proportions in his feathers.
"Why not tell them the truth? Are you afraid of what an open establishment of being gay might mean?"
I chuckled. "I know it sounds stupid. But I guess as long as it's not definite, I feel safe."
"If you're with me, you could come right out and say it. I wouldn't let anyone hurt you."
The brush slowed to a halt in its movements in his hair and was left suspended as I froze in bewilderment and then recovered well enough to sling my arms around his chest, burying my face into his hair in the process.
"Well, remind me to keep you in tow if anyone ever gives me lip about my happy homosexual ways!" I said, releasing him and returning to my task, all the while trying not to get too invested in the idea that I had stumbled across an angel in human form. Oriya simply patted my leg as we lapsed back into silence, I completely uplifted and wearing a smile that could have wrapped around my head twice. After a while Oriya started to make those little purrs of satisfaction again, his fingers bending and clenching at nothing but the floorboards.
I guess looking back now, that it must have been one of the most serene moments we shared during the investigation. In hindsight I wish that I hadn't wasted a second on past concerns and old scars. In light of what happened later, it was a wonderful, perfect scene.
A new song began. One that I recognized.
"This is my favorite!" I shrilled as I pressed my cheek against the crown of Oriya's head, tentatively winding my arms around his shoulders. He didn't stiffen or shift uncomfortably by instead accepted my affectionate embrace by resting his hand atop my own, the one still holding the brush.
"It's in English." He declared as I closed my eyes, swaying against his body with utter contentment. "Can you understand it?"
I nodded. "Yes, of course! Don't forget that my parents were gaijin's! My English is 100 per cent perfect-o! Possibly even better than my Japanese!"
"You're not that difficult to understand, Cher." Oriya chuckled, wrapping his hand around my fist and brushing his thumb across the back of my knuckles. My smile was so big by this point that I must have looked completely crazed. "Tell me what the song is about. Can you translate it?"
A minor pensée pertaining to spoken language: English lyrics have never failed to sound more stupid then when one attempts to translate them into easily understood Japanese terminology. Even a song with such moving simplicity as I have Dreamed from 'The King and I' was unable to withstand the butchery my inept skills of cross-cultural translation put it through. Oriya was kind enough to sit and nod through my bumbling tirade as though it were pithy insight. By the time I had finished though we fell into a heated debate, not about my translation amazingly enough, but the romantic representation within the song.
"My understanding, as such, is that the narrator is informing his unaware lover of his dreams and the first thing he tells them is that he has been dreaming of their arms?"
I had been rocking against his body up until that point but froze at his words. "Well… this is probably my fault but the narrator is actually singing about how he dreamt that the arms of his loved one were lovely. Which isn't to imply that he was dreaming about disembodied arms. … Or that he was planning to eat the arms or anything…"
Oriya raised his head over his shoulder to shoot me a rather quizzical expression. "That wasn't what I was saying. It just seems strange to me that one would dream about someone's arms. Wouldn't it be more romantic say, to dream about their eyes?"
I considered his words. "No… not necessarily. Whilst dreaming about the eyes of your loved one is indeed romantic, the implied connotation of someone's arms is that in cherished persons' arms we find peace and security. If you dream of how lovely their arms are, then it seems to me you would be thinking of yourself in their embrace, safe and protected from the world. Drawn in close to them, one with them, entangling and overlapping. Completely and utterly cosseted from the world. At least, that's what I think." I concluded with a smile.
Oriya's eyes, which were indeed very lovely, now gazed up fondly into my own. He shook his head softly, bangs swaying across his shadowed forehead. But the gesture was neither bemused nor embarrassed. He appeared to be quietly moved.
"You are certainly quite the romantic." He established, moving his head back to rest against my shoulder. I froze for a second and then slowly placed my cheek against his forehead, only closing my eyes when I saw his own eyelashes flutter down into place. "An irresponsible sort of romantic at that. I don't see things as deeply as you do, I suppose. Akemi probably already mentioned it to you but I'm not an easy person to care for. If you hadn't said a word I doubt I would ever have understood why a person would dream of the arms of their loved one."
"Aww…. I'm sure you would have!" I smiled, running my fingers along his arm, tracing out the subtle muscle patterns beneath the wall of his yukata. I felt a slight shiver trace up through his body at my touch, which I supposed had more to do with the sensation than it did with the person whom was extending it. Oriya, I learnt later, was quite the sensualist. An introverted one at that however, who did not seek it out but waited until it came bumbling up to him. Soggy and filthy in my case. "I happen to think that you're quite lovable and I won't have you putting yourself down in front of me! And your arms, I'll have you know, are quite lovely indeed."
003: (Dotard)
Oriya made a small sound of gentle amusement, a nuance with no mockery observable within it. "Thankyou Yutaka. That's… very sweet."
Now that I think about it, perhaps that song had more to do with my situation with Oriya than I had originally perceived. The song spoke of a tortured soul, biding their time in an obscure lovelorn purgatory, dreaming of someone whom they idealized from a distance with little more to base their attraction on then fantasies and daydreams. I suppose that's why I have become so enamored to the song now. Because it speaks of the subtle, underlying trepidation I had of this premature attraction and explained why I had so easily fallen for him, after knowing the man for barely one day. "In these dreams, I've loved you so, that by now I think I know; what it's like to be loved by you-"
Yes indeed. Truer words than even I, an irresponsible romantic could have fathomed the obvious meaning behind. I was lost in a subtle translation that was far deeper than mere language could reveal.
At first Oriya had only been a query in my mind; just another puzzle, another riddle I spent the idle hours ticking over, attempting to unravel and spread out in a neatly established solution. I wanted to unearth the bare motives, understand his reasoning behind his ties to Muraki, his immortal like abilities and strip away his complex web of ambiguity which surmounted his lovely form in such abundance, that one bare meeting was enough for even a spectator like me to become wholly saturated. It was only ever meant to be a passing thought, a late night ponder to put me to sleep. But that tiny little deliberation evolved into something that penetrated deep into my dreams and one bare second unattended in my days became colonized by thoughts of him. I hadn't been altogether honest with Tsuzuki when I'd spoken candidly of my attraction to the swordsman. It hadn't been a sudden brazen moment of Eureka! I didn't come to the conclusion that Oriya could so effectively solve my bitch of a (somewhat questionable) love life. No. Oriya was only ever intended to stimulate my brain. Never to evolve into a real live human being with beautiful eyes and sensuous mouth and a gruff but wholly desirable voice. To me, he wasn't supposed to represent attraction or god forbid, love. He was enigma. Nothing more. But yet… did I only tell myself that so I would have an excuse to think about him more than was ever necessary? I believe I did. I was quite adept at fooling myself about these sorts of things.
Oriya was a ghost. Eternally drifting in this day and age, which was so undeserving of him. Waiting, poised, adrift in exile. These thoughts had planted dangerous little seeds in the far corners of my mind, back when I had thought my pondering to be innocent. And from there, those seedlings sprouted like creepers and had grown to cover every other previous thought I had ever entertained about Oriya. The mind is very much like a creeper vine I suppose; before you really understand your true intentions you have nothing but the blank wall. But as you learn more, about the person, situation, or in my case about my own feelings, the vines start to grow from the base of the wall and spread upwards until it has taken hold completely and nothing of the previous structure is visible. This was how it took a hold of me. One brief meeting, which hardly classified since no pleasantries were exchanged. (Though in light of the situation, who has time for pleasantries?) But my thoughts had been of him ever since. My thoughts and then my dreams. It was just absurd! I barely knew the man! But somehow… though it admittedly sounds stupid, and it is, I felt as though I knew him far better than one day could have ever allowed me. Was it possible what that song preached? Could you experience someone's love, understand it and envision it simply by dreaming of it? Is that why I felt as though I had already been loved by him, prior to that day?
I don't know. But I imagine that were a possibility to become reality, it would be in this place.
In Kyoto; my land of dreams.
We sat that way for a while, faces touching, my arms around him and his body, not exactly leaning on mine but unobtrusively resting, simply listening to the closing lyrics. I felt very happy in those moments. My favorite love song and I had a chance to actually enjoy it with someone I cared for. My last boyfriend had laughed it off and very nearly soiled the entire experience for me. Oriya was much more obedient however and I was able to fully appreciate the soppy sentimental-ness, without feeling like a big dork about it. I never really thanked him for that. For how much it meant to me, that we could be quiet and still together for a few very short, but deeply treasured moments.
"Alone and awake I've looked at the stars,
the same that smile on you;
And time and again I've thought all
the things, That you were thinking too.
I have
dreamed that your arms are lovely, I have dreamed what a joy
you'd be.
I have dreamed every word you whisper. When
you're close,
Close to me.
How you look in the
glow of evening, I have dreamed and enjoyed the view.
In
these dreams I've loved you so, that by now I think I know.
What
it's like to be loved by you.
I will love being loved
I will love being loved
I will love being loved by you."
The song ended and I paid it a justly earned moment of respect, with a modest round of applause. Small change for the moment it had hosted for Oriya and I, but the sentiment was there. Besides, it was difficult to think of anything better to do when Oriya's fingers were brushing the underside of my chin, his dreamy eyes the very definition of 'bedroom.' He sat up a little straighter, so that I was no longer staring down at him. Guess he preferred feeling dominant to me, not that I had any objection to that. His fingers gently disentangled mine from the jade brush, which fell to the floor with a far less eloquent thud. He filled the now empty space between my fingers with his own, twining his fingers about mine and fishing them down sensuously to brush against the upper ridge of my palm. His thumb came up to stroke the small vein that ran down from my index finger to the patch of skin that connected my thumb. I was so caught up in the movements of his experienced hands that I barely noticed that his lips had breached the point of no return in regards to my personal space. There was simply no chance now that he would be turning back without encountering at least one kiss from me. It was surprising that these circumstances did not terrify him. I've known people that would prefer to kiss Mr. Konoe on the mouth rather than me. Unfortunately, for my camera and me they were not prepared to back it up, which would have provided me with many years of excellent blackmail material. But that is another story. One you will not ever hear repeated as it is quite bruising on my "delicate" little ego. The speech marks there are intended to portray what is known as sarcasm. If you have any idea what I am like at all, you would be well aware that that my ego is hardly easy to cripple. But yes, moving along. What was Oriya up to by that point? … Oh yes, that's right, he had his spare hand pressed to my neck and halfway across my cheek and ear. He was smiling at me, holding me in place so my mouth was a tiny stone's throw from his own, his grin only growing as I struggled to keep from panting like a teenager in his first home made porn video. I tried to dart forward to capture his lips as though they were an evasive Pickachu and I was a Pokéball, but his strong hand didn't allow my head any leeway at all. I was firmly held in place and even my guardian like strength had no effect on him. Interesting…
He smiled as I emitted a pathetic puppy like whine and brought my ensnared hand around to run across my cheek, his own fingers brushing the flesh between my own. My eyes squeezed shut and I tried to cut my desperate panting off at the neck before I was reduced to groveling at his feet for one merciful touch of his mouth against my own. Though Oriya's beauty was indeed worthy of the god's, I was not yet prepared to beg him for any favors. Maybe later.
In a desperate bid to gain his attentions I heard my wavery voice question him, less casual and unconcerned than I had been aiming for.
"Is there anything you would like to do now?" I asked as I trailed my hand around underneath Oriya's chin, running my fingers across his throat and the shadows that formed where his neck met the structure of his jaw. I was a witness to his delight at that one brief touch. But he didn't answer my question right away as I'd been hoping, drawing out this sensuous experience and milking it for all it was worth. His composure was an emotional treat. The silence only further allowed the lethargic haze of lust opportunity to stalk from its' hiding place and stretch its' claws out one at a time. It was the calm before what I hoped would be a wild and incalculable storm. A moment of heated electricity before the snap of movement and a powerful strike which would send all poised senses into panicked disarray; skittering mindlessly to the outer regions of my mind and body.
Oriya moved his hand away from my neck and placed it atop my own, sinking his fingers down between mine and entangling them. He bore my thumb up towards the corner of his lips. My eyes widened, my pledge to placate my breathing pattern falling apart like patchwork fabric as he slipped my thumb between his lips and gently kissed and sucked on it. I could feel my face burning predictive of my boldness, as I ran my spare hand down his chest and fished it beneath the folds of his yukata, gently touching the pads of my fingers to his already pert nipple. The front of my body was pressed along his back and I arched against him as I felt a shiver go down his spine, like a jolt of electricity directly from his brain. He kissed my thumb again and then pressed the side of his face against my palm.
"I think that I would like to taste your lips." He answered at last, his voice as husky and alluring as I had only ever imagined it in those dreams. "I think-" I gasped as his hand snagged a hold of my hair a little roughly. "- I think I would like that very much. … Yutaka…"
"Say my… name again… please…" And so easily I was reduced to begging, without the least bit of shame to whom I was begging to. A man whom restored the reputation of a man whom killed at whim and fancy. This deceiver I had every surge of affection and desire for, merely smiled understandingly at my lapse in self-control, the fist on the back of my head, relaxing just enough so that the individual strands of hair were not tugged sharply from my scalp.
"Yutaka…" He conceded to this one drop of water to be placed upon the lips of a man whom by all rights was dying of thirst. He used the hand in my hair to lead me around his body until with a powerful thrust, he liberally threw me over his shoulder with nary the slightest show of effort on his behalf. The entire world spun in a very cliché manner before I landed in his lap, the blood rushing in my head as I was cushioned from impact by his strong arms, one supporting me by my shoulders, whilst the other traced dangerous insinuations across the curve of my waist. My brain eventually righted itself and I extended my appreciation by running my fingers over his cheeks and down across his full, divine lips. His breathing increased rapidly when I touched him, his eyes hot from beneath the sharp juts of his bangs.
"May I take your hair out?" He asked me, twining one of my perpetually loose tresses around his index finger and then teasing it across his lower lip playfully. I nodded, wanting to look as beautiful for him as my limitations would allow, allowing him to untie the orange bow from my ponytail. The liberated blond locks fell away from my head like the moving on of the Sakura from the branch to which it had clung to so faithfully for so many months. Oriya liberally scooped his hand into the thick, wavy, tiresome clumps, which was something of a trademark sign of a preoccupied mechanical engineer, and bunched it into a fisted bun on the back of my head as he ducked his mouth down to meet my own in a fiery kiss. Oh God, oh god, oh god, oh… GOD! If you do have a room lined up in Heaven for me, please pattern it with a big long line of Oriya's who have nothing better to do for an eternity but to kiss me. Dear sweet merciful Lord of Heaven, Hades, Hell and all Fast food agencies, I had never in all my fifty years of existence, found myself encaged within a kiss like his. All at once it was able to be soothing, deep, involving, passionate and arousing. And all without compromising his gentlemanly demeanor. I simply melted like cheap cheese at the touch of his lips. The way he moved his mouth against mine felt as though he were suctioning the tiny lines and shadows away. I could feel his body talking to me and it was saying something very simple. Raw emotions, primitive sensations, primal instinct, animal pleasure. Who would have ever thought that a nerdy undead scientist could gain so much from such a gorgeous man? And there is no need to veil your shock people. I am as stunned as you are.
Oriya parted from my lips without his two weeks notice, issuing a sound of protest from me. His response was to smile a little wickedly. He was having his fun with me, just as he had with Hisoka during their dual three months ago. Only now he was using my own body against me as a weapon, rather than a sword. As though proving this, he wet my appetite for more by tracing his tongue around the shape of my mouth and then darted it back within the safety confines of his teeth as I tried to catch it between my lips. He raised himself onto his knees, hissing a little from the tender wound but still managing to lower me gently to the floor as though I weighed little more than an infant. He set me down upon the cushions, which Akemi and I had previously placed beneath him and ran his hand across the crown of my head, moving down to spread my hair about my shoulders. I gazed up at him adoringly through my now somewhat foggy glasses, fingers quivering as I reached up and buried them into the folds of his yukata, creating strained creases within the material. The V shaped cross over hung loose, revealing a substantial portion of his chest for my viewing pleasure. I was astounded to find that my body was shaking beneath his gaze. I was as jittery as I had been…
My mind clamped down on itself, effectively slamming the door shut and locking it on that secluded apartment of memories in the farthest complex of my mind. No, don't go back there, it warned. I had locked that place up years ago and never purposefully intended to go peeking back through the peephole at it. And so I listened to that little voice, resting my hand on Oriya's slender neck, registering his pulse and the irregular thimble shape of his jugular. Oriya was pleased to indulge my distraction and positioned himself gently between my legs, spacing my thighs out on either side of his trim waist. I gasped more loudly than I had intended to, when I felt that distinctive bulge of desire grind against my own. My hands splayed across his chest helplessly as control wriggled out of grasp. Oriya leant down to capture my mouth again, tugging on my lips gently for a moment before sending that kiss on a short stroll across my cheeks, chin and eventually onto my neck. I felt a little uncomfortable having his mouth there but when he started to nibble at the skin so softly and sweetly, I forgot all about my prior concerns, as pleasure became a much more conducive sensation to focus on. Oriya purred against my heaving Adam's apple and when his voice reached my ears it was ragged but gruff around the edges as always. He sometimes sounded like a cantankerous old man with that voice, sexy as it was.
"It's somewhat strange," he said, "To feel your heart beating so fast against my chest, when it should not beat at all. To slip my breath between your lips and to feel you pass it back between my own with every kiss. Quite the indulgence you are Yutaka. With you I am able to laugh, sigh, shake my head, roll my eyes and still feel as though I want nothing more than to pull you down and make every bare inch of you my own."
I felt a bolt of pure electricity shoot through my body as his fingers quickly and deftly unbuttoned the black vest I was wearing overtop of my work shirt and shuck it from me as casually as one might shell an ear of corn. It landed beside us on the floor and Oriya cupped my chin in his free hand, running it over my skin.
"You are quite unlike anyone whom I have ever felt myself attracted to," Oriya said, which earned a silent mental snark from me. Looking at his beauty one might assume that he previously dated supermodels. He must have been pretty desperate to let me get a hold of him that was for sure. "Kind, amusing, intelligent… and in possession of a beauty quite unique to a man."
I blushed. "Oh, come now. I wouldn't say that I'm all that good-lookin'."
Oriya smiled conspiratorially, running his fingers across the curve of my chin. "You see…? That is why I adore you so. You are completely oblivious as to where your beauty stems from, even when everyone around you can see it so easily. A smile, an opportunity to smile and the ability to hold and comfort a man of whom you cared for without reason. No matter how you see yourself Yutaka, you should know that any fool wiser than I, could only see that you are beautiful."
A breathless moment was swallowed by his kiss once more and I found myself rising and falling amongst the waves of my emotions. I was struck by the obvious peculiarity of my situation, at that, of all times. It was remarkable that I had been able to judge this man so astutely from a second's naked glance. I lifted one hand to clasp a hold of his shoulder, only to meet resistance halfway through the transition. Oriya's fingers knitted through my own, pressing my hand back down against the floorboards. My fingers twitched for a moment like dying butterfly beneath a pin and then gradually relented and coalesced with his. Two hands joined as one, that one pressed into the space beside our heads.
A raised hand as many interesting connotations. It is a sign of greeting and by extension, welcome, acceptance, admittance, and recognition. In the same gesture it can signal a farewell. So long, goodbye, to see off, to send of, to wish well, to release, to free, and to admit departure. The raised hand also however signifies refusal in that very same position, only it would thrust forward with the intention of denying. Stop, stay away, leave me alone, don't come any closer, no admittance, uncertainty, hesitation, refusal, exile, fear…
I had raised my hands in this gesture with all its many meanings more than once during my existence. Hands are wonderful things, are they not? The loss of my own would be truly devastating to me, for without them I would be unable to do any of the things I loved. Hands are the unrecognized representation of body and soul after all. Oriya's hand pressed to my own, palm-to-palm, fingers linked, said that all too clearly. What our hands told me was that we two creatures had opened ourselves up to one another, uncurled from our tight fist of cautious hesitation in order to come together and connect. To wrap our bodies up tightly within the securely bound vortex of our emotions. It was so beautiful and personal. I wanted that moment to last forever. One kiss and two hands, in exchange for an eternity of possibility.
The kiss went on and on, until Oriya finally decided on a rhythm for his tongue and settled into it with ease, spurring my own into following his example with patient fortitude. His pace was slow but certainly lacked no depth. His precise massages with that tongue of his could have worked the knots out of my shoulder blades if I had put it to work there. I followed his lead, eager to master the responses he so desired from me, tentatively curling my leg up to wrap around his waist, allowing the slender length bellow the knee to rest across his rather firm buttocks. He shifted only slightly at this alteration and deepened the kiss to a degree that I never imagined possible, lessening the pressure faintly in order to nudge against my upper lip and nuzzle at the corner in mock innocence. I cranked open one eye to half-mast only to find him staring directly back at me. His fingers brushed across the tresses of my hair that ran across the floorboards, gently tugging at the ends and tracing them along until his fingernails stroked the rise of my cheeks. Both my eyes were now open, though on the perpetual edge of fluttering shut.
"Look at you… you've gone bright red…" He said softly, spiking his voice with just a drop of amusement, perhaps unintentionally. Perhaps to get me intoxicated, of which is unsure but these moments are always so difficult indeed to verify. That uncertainty is what makes it so exciting. Oriya chuckled, pressing his lips to mine and speaking through the tiny space he had allowed, barely room enough for a needle to pass through. "How… cute…"
The space vanished and we were one again, a butterfly with both wings lifted behind its' back, preparing to take flight and never really getting around to doing so. Seconds drifted lazily into heated pollen scented minutes as we lay there, tangled somewhere between hello and farewell, denial and acceptance, acquiring a taste for one another as a butterfly nimbly flutters down upon its' chosen flower. A taste, of which I was certain, could only lead to some terrible addiction that I would as always be more than willing to sate.
Another cigarette to a smoker. Another drink to an alcoholic.
Feed that craving. Quench that thirst. Soothe that yearning for more until whence you have need of it again. Oriya's kisses to me were as deep as the puncture of a needle, the proboscis of the butterfly collection I pinned upon myself, to feed the pollen I craved within my veins. But butterflies are more innocent than that, aren't they? After all, they feed with their feet.
I wish I could have been a butterfly. If I ever had been one, my body had been pinned to the wall a long time ago. My wings spread outward on display, to be forever marveled, but to never fly, which made the beauty worthless in the end. To be admired without cause for that admiration, renders such compliments invalid.
These thoughts came later of course. In that very moment, my brain had stopped considering such philosophical baloney as it was quite occupied with the stimulation racing through my reanimated body. The pleasure that was sincerely my own and I was happier and far more nervous than I had been in a long time.
"Oriya…"
Oriya made no sign that he had heard my call. He was far too busy tugging my work shirt out of the waistband of my pants. I whimpered softly, tracing my fingers congenially through his hair, softened by the recent brushing. Oriya looked down at me and saw my expression, which must have indeed been a sight. He frowned, without meaning to I guess and released my pinned hand, which immediately leapt up and clung to his shoulder as though it were the only thing binding it to reality. With his own hand now free, Oriya pinched my trembling bottom lip between his index finger and thumb, fishing both inside of my mouth for a mere second. His face came close to mine, so very close… our noses touched and he kissed the rounded tip before meeting my eyes with the deep orbs that comprised his own. He was so close I could actually see my reflection in the pupil and I was stunned to find how anxious my expression was. Granted Oriya could most likely see his own face in my glasses too. I'm surprised he hadn't cracked up yet.
"Yutaka… do you believe I would treat you hurtfully?" He asked, intending for it to be rhetorical I imagine. And a distracting rhetorical at that because the sly bastard was continuing to un-tuck my shirt even as he spoke. "Please don't come to fear the touch of my hand. There is no way that these hands could ever hurt such a pure creature."
My eyes were threatening to tear up. Oh God, Oriya… if only you knew… if only you knew what a load of shit that was! How sweet of you! Incorrect but… sweet… There was nothing pure about me and just by touching my body you contaminated yourself beyond the point that you could ever be clean again.
"I won't break you… I swear it…" He was whispering, his voice a shadows faint glimmer of controlled lust, as he freed my shirt. I shut my eyes, glasses falling crooked on my nose as I tipped my head back, wheezing as his fingers ghosted up across my stomach, the middle digit dipping into my navel and tracing the indent tenderly. My entire body tensed as his hand moved up further, dragging the shirt with it so my skin was exposed to both his eyes and the cool air of the sitting area. I shivered visibly, hoping that he liked what he saw. My body had always been a debatable topic amongst those I had been with. I felt his breath on my stomach, hot and intentional. His hand was now far up my chest, caressing the indent beneath my pectorals.
"You're actually… quite well defined…" Oriya panted, after a moment's assessment. My eyes popped open from behind my crooked glasses. "More so than I… was expecting…"
"Used to… swim a lot…" Was the best explanation I could offer him at that point. His free hand was now running down my thigh and his lips upon my abdomen, trailing kisses across the slight rise of my stomach and then up over the subtle muscle structure. I tilted my head back, leaning the crown against the floor. Dear Lord it had been so long since anyone had ever done this to me. I had been fucked only the night before but I could barely recall the last time anyone had ever treated my body as though it were a sacrificial object to be made love to. I was pleased to find that my memory of what had happened to me the previous night with the stranger, did not soil my thoughts of being with Oriya at all.
My breath caught in my throat as Oriya slid up my body, pushing the shirt into bunches around my neck. Most of my upper body was now exposed to him and he did not waste an inch of it. I was panting in an effort to stay on top of the sporadic waves of passion that were soaking me but found myself sinking beneath the surface, deeper and further in every second that passed. Oriya slid two of his fingers up through the slight film of sweat that had accumulated on my chest and anchored them firmly around my left nipple. My back arched completely off of the pillows, a loud moan thrusting from the depths of my body as he plucked that pert bud and gently circled it with his nail. He was so temperate, yet so attune to what it was that I desired.
His clothes were a nuisance. The clothes that separated our skin, was a nuisance. As his mouth worked its' way up my chest toward the place where his fingers drummed at my nipple, I fished my hand underneath his yukata, gently tracing the tips of my fingers down his side. The material veiled his beautiful skin from me but at least I could touch him.
"Oh Yutaka…" He breathed, as his hands moved in a mirrored contradiction across my body. His thumb continuously strummed my nipple, whilst the other hand streaked down from my waist and slid slowly down across my inside thigh. Oriya smiled as my voice fluttered from the surface to the very depths. He stroked the skin of my thigh firmly but tenderly. Then it ever so slowly crept back upwards towards my waist. I opened my eyes and placed my hands on either side of Oriya's face, raising my lips to softly brush against his own. He smiled at me before closing his eyes and deepening the kiss. Then his hand was on the back of my head, his mouth pressed to the patch of flesh a centimeter below the nipple that he had previously been touching. A shiver whipped up through my body, a twist of exciting pain bunching a knot deep down in my stomach. My groin was starting to feel painfully tight and I attempted to loosen some of the constriction by rolling my hips against his; slowly at first and then, when he responded, a little harder. The feeling of that hard bulge against mine was so erotic I thought that it would drive me mad.
The sound of a zipper coming undone caught my attention before I realized, with a jolt, that he was unbuckling my pants.
"Oriya!" I yelped, my voice pitching dramatically as he unhooked the button on my trousers and separated the two halves. I wanted to focus my attention on what he was going to do there but by the time he had his fingers hooked inside of the trouser band, his tongue was lapping at my nipple, tearing my attention in two separate directions. By this point I was groaning euphorically, my feet sliding across the floorboards, my fingernails digging deeply into his side. Oriya slid one hand underneath my ass, raising it just enough to draw my pants down slightly off of my hips, exposing the hem of my boxer shorts. My entire body froze, breath and blood, leaving only the heartbeats to carry on uninterrupted in their passionate rhythm, as Oriya's hand slid sinuously down into the confines of my pants, coming into contact with my aching, constricted desire. I thrust against that presence, finding no relief and near to biting through my lip if I did not receive it soon. But Oriya was only making me more comfortable. Grasping my hips, he tugged my pants down another quarter inch, taking the pressure of my trousers crotch off of my swollen cock. His hand firmly bunched around my hard penis, squeezing it momentarily through my boxers and then lifting it away from the compression of my pants. By this point I was heaving and more than a little desperate. My fingers tangled in his hair, tugging unintentionally when his hands began tracing my chest all over, following the subtle lines of what muscle structure I had and the crevices formed by my ribcage. I tilted my head back, pulling my body taught like a violin string, hooking my legs around Oriya's waist and reeling his pelvis in hard against my own. He just smiled at me a little knowingly.
I begged that expression. "Oriya… please… What do you… want me to do…?"
Oriya fixed his hands beneath my knees and lifted my legs away from his waist, setting them on the right side of his body. With a toss of his head that lifted his dark wave of hair in a whiplash of motion across his shoulders, Oriya positioned his hand on my hip and sensuously lowered his body against mine, so that he was more or less spooning me from behind. He moved with the grace and experience any one of his geisha's undoubtedly possessed. I watched him over my shoulder, enamored.
"Just… shift your body a little…" Oriya urged, positioning my waist so I rested comfortably on my side. "There… that's it…"
His lips came to rest on the sensitive shell of my ear as ever so slowly he moved our bodies into alignment. I counted off the seconds in my head, until the exact moment I felt that ever-expanding bulge come into contact with my buttocks. A surge of pure heat burst through me and before I got a handle of myself, I thrust back against him. Oriya made a small exclamation of surprise but managed to get a handle on himself very quickly. He thrust back, rolling his hips generously against the lower arch of my ass, nibbling and sucking on the shell of my ear as we rocked together, panting and moaning. My balls were pounding from between my thighs and I spread my legs, angling my body so Oriya's semi-erect penis punched against the aching sacks, each burst of pleasure threatening to send me catapulting over the edge. My eyes were shut and I panted without shame as I reached around, bracing a hand on his hip and rocking back against him in earnest mimicry of that familiar sacred yet condemned ritual. His arms came about my body and started to pop open the buttons on my shirt. And as soon as the passion was there it was pulled from beneath us like a stained tablecloth. The air in the room felt suddenly heavy, as though a past spirit had entered through the wall and was hovering above us now, sucking my strength. My eyes were bulging behind my glasses, my hips grinding to a halt in their lugubrious movements.
"Oriya… please don't." I warned him, moving his hands away from the buttons and setting them on the indent below my ribcage. "Just leave it on. Please…"
His lips twisted into a smile against my skin as he ducked downwards to place a kiss into the side of my neck. His pelvis was rolling enticingly against my buttocks, one long bare uninjured leg sneaking out of the yukata folds to wind about my waist.
"You're going to tease me by hiding that flesh?" He asked me softly. I completely froze, body struck into premature rictor mortis.
Those had been his words.
"Your clothes are a nuisance. Why do you try to cover yourself from neck to wrist like that? It only teases me Yutaka."
My body had started to shake, if only to match the quaking uncertainty of my mind. Oriya, unaware of my turmoil, continued to kiss my neck as though he had noticed nothing. Then his fingers came across some of my scars.
"These marks…" No… please don't touch them! "These marks behind your hips… in your lower back…" Oriya don't! "Something's strange about them…"
"Oriya, kiss me." I begged, hoping it would be enough to distract him from the time-weathered wounds that had existed since before I had been reborn as a guardian. I spun in Oriya's arms and pecked the corner of his lips, arms wrapped around his body. But he paid me no mind. Rather he repositioned himself between my thighs and set his hands on the scars, which were situated in my lower back, above my buttocks.
"These scars…" He whispered, his voice containing a hint of dread. My eyes were squeezed shut a strange whining noise was erupting out of me as I collapsed back against the cushions in the identical pose I had been forced into when those scars had been placed upon me. " … my god… These scars were left by…" He traced the four long drag marks that run from my lower back, around my waist and ended on either side of my pelvis. "… fingernails…"
"Oriya!" My voice was now more than desperate. I struggled to get away from his touch, the touch that I had desired so much only moments earlier and now, which I couldn't bear to have upon me. But Oriya only held on, his fingernails dragging along those exact same scars to where they began. Then he pulled me back, slamming my pelvis against his. I cried out as his nails raked identical marks along top of the already hated scars. "What I just did… someone did it to you before! And left you scarred… Yutaka… who did this to you?"
I couldn't stand it anymore. I completely snapped. The stress of the past two days came crashing down on me and poor Oriya became the undeserving recipient of my misdirected rage.
"LET GO OF ME!" I roared, shoving my hands hard into his chest, trying to throw him off. "That's none of your business! Get off me! Let me go!"
"Yutaka…" Oriya said, eyes wide as I struggled out of his arms, pulling my clothes back into place with rash uncoordinated movements. "Yutaka what's wrong…?"
I clambered shakily to my feet, pushing away Oriya's arm as he reached out to steady me. I faced the wall, mentally forcing myself to calm down, as poor Oriya stood behind me, clueless as to what my strange behavior indicated. I immediately felt awful for yelling at him but I just couldn't… have him realize that about me. It made me look so filthy and weak. I didn't want him seeing me like that.
"Yutaka…" He called out to me hesitantly and I adhered to his voice with the distribution of a trembling sigh. I attempted to sound composed but my voice gave me away immediately. It possessed all the strength of a piece of paper, so easily bent backward in the torrent of emotions flooding from my heart so overwhelmingly powerful that I felt as though I could simply burst at any moment. My body was still deeply entrenched within the throes of physical passion but I wouldn't permit myself to ruin what I wanted so desperately from Oriya. Therefore, I kept my distance and my eyes focused firmly on the wall before me. The paper was stained in places. White in others. I found that delightfully symbolic.
"It's no big deal Oriya."
"Well it must be a big deal for you to react this way." He reasoned, walking up behind me and gently stroking my upper arms. I crooned at that one minimal touch. "I thought we were having fun…" He turned me around and lifted my chin, leaning down to kiss me. I wanted to continue on as though nothing had happened, to leap upward, throw my arms around his neck and kiss him until we melted together and became one indistinguishable mass that could never be separated nor independently identified. But I instead did nothing. Only lowered my face toward the floor and he understood right away that I could not accept his kiss at that point. His expression was more understanding than I deserved. I didn't even understand my own feelings at that point. All I could sense was fear. Inexplicable fear.
Stupid fear. I could have been naked by that point.
I ignored the little voice berating me and faked a smile. "It's been a big day…" I established, hating how lame the words sounded. "I might just hit the sack. We can take a rain check, eh?" I tried to leave, not really wanting to but Oriya grabbed me roughly by the wrist determinedly preventing my departure. I gasped in shock at how hard his grip was, remembering his momentary flux in control within the kitchen earlier. My fear rose several palpable levels when I saw the angry red welts already appearing around the area hidden beneath his taut fingers.
"Yutaka, wait-" He pleaded. I responded by snapping my arm free and turning on him, my expression livid and patience thinned to an indescribable vapor.
"Don't touch me like that!" I warned, positive that I sounded somewhat crazed. "Don't you ever touch me that way!"
Oriya stared at me for a long time, clearly confused by my anger. His expression slowly melted like candle wax in a hot flame, no longer stunned but sincerely hurt. This made me feel ever worse than if he had retaliated with a similar outburst to my own. It was more difficult now to blur the indistinguishable lines between Oriya and the one whom had spoken those exact words when before I had hidden my skin. The dark haired swordsman placed a hand on the visible portion of his chest, the side of his yukata falling astray in order to make room for the intruding fingers. I tried to maintain my temporary abstinence but it was not made easier by this minor, unintentional exhibitionism.
"I… I apologize but…" His voice was so solemn. So sincere. Oh, I'd made such a rotten mess of things, hadn't I? How could I possibly have made the slightest comparison between Oriya and that… thing? I couldn't even serve my emotions faithfully and remain angry at one, whilst the others grave I could have spat upon. "It… it would probably do you good to talk about it."
If talking did any good, I would have erased all my problems a long time ago. Still, I didn't say this, fearing the undertone of melancholy that I would regret having ever let him hear when I was in the right frame of mind. Instead, I occupied myself by pulling my sleeves down to my wrists, snapping up the collar of my shirt to hide as much of my neck as possible. Now, only my hands and face were uncovered, and as usual in the veiling of my body, the flesh that brought out such evil in good people, I felt my composure return. Oriya's expression twitched noticeably as I flashed a stunning smile at him.
"Talk about what? It's no big deal, handsome! Everyone has one or two scars they aren't proud of, eh? It's what makes the world such a bright and diverse place!" I made a V sign with my fingers to accompany and add weight to my smile. I hoped Oriya would buy it. I needed for him to buy it; for the sake of my mental stability I needed for him to bypass this one hiccup.
But Oriya wasn't interested in preserving my mindset. He wasn't an idiot and his morals clearly insisted that he broach my emotional space. My fingers dropped like a shy girls gaze as Oriya stepped forward, put his hands on my upper arms and knelt down to kiss the side of my face. I felt my cheeks go red as his lips rested there, his eyes on mine. I could see him through the corner of my sight and the previous sexual enticement had been replaced with a seed of sympathy, one that had already taken root. My body started to tremble within his grasp and no matter what effort I took to regain control, it continued to act against my will. There was nothing to fear from him but his emotional probes. There was no malice in his hands. He had not lied; Oriya wouldn't treat me hurtfully and I couldn't understand why.
"I've been working here a long time," He told me, voice as soft and as gentle as those hands. "And I've seen that type of injury more than once but… never to the degree that it would scar so deeply…"
"Oriya," My bottom lip started to tremble. "That's enough-"
He ignored me and plowed on, his right hand cupping my cheek and sewing a few strands of my hair between his fingers.
"It happened when you were alive, didn't it? Guardian's of Death don't scar because their wounds heal completely, therefore it must have occurred before your death."
He was rationalizing it! Figuring it out! "Stop it, please!" I begged.
Again, he ignored me. Those hands wouldn't hurt me, but why couldn't he understand that it was his words that could do the most damage? "Does it haunt you until this day? Is that why you won't talk about it? Is that what dragged you down into death? Yutaka… you still suffer from it, don't you? I can see it in your eyes right this second. No matter how eager you seemed at my touch, you can't forget that it was a similar touch what left those marks-"
I couldn't act frightened, it would only reinforce what he was saying. The best thing to do was to laugh it off. To show that such accusations had no weight with which to hold me down. Send them scattering, like dried leaves in the air. My chest hurt but I managed to laugh through that tight constriction, the tears suspended beyond the surface of my eyes withdrawing, so that there was only brightness.
"Oh Oriya, please! How dramatic!" I exclaimed, laughing gaily. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound, plucking these theories out of thin air?"
Oriya only nodded and I felt the sudden detestable urge to punch him. This man could not be fooled by my act, or made to feel embarrassed by his unproven accusations. There was no doubt in his mind that he was right. No doubt in my mind either.
"We don't know enough about one another's scars yet." He admitted, pressing his forehead against my temple. "But… I'll give you as much time as you need. I'm sorry if I encroached on something personal. Just as long as you understand why I am so concerned." At this he kissed my cheek again and then moved his mouth back in order to whisper in my ear. "I do like you. I want to know all about you. Even those things you don't want anyone to know, I want to help you shoulder that pain. You give me that and I'll give you everything I have."
He finally moved back a little and turned as though to leave. Just when I thought I was beyond those abject feelings, my emotions at his tender expression suddenly burst forth through my heart like razor blades and I grabbed him, sinking my mouth against his, my fingers buried deep in his long soft hair. It took Oriya exactly three seconds to react and he put his arms around me, adhering to my despair but not turning from it as though my touch were repulsive. I wasn't beyond feeling emotion. Maybe that makes me a lousy doctor in some people's eyes. But a strangers approval was not what I needed right then. All I needed at that point was for Oriya to understand my gratitude and how deeply it had touched me. How much it meant to have him care for me.
"Thankyou," I told him when we had parted. To say anymore would have been saying too much and though one word was far too little, I felt I had more than adequately expressed myself. He watched as I left, my hair spinning and drifting across his face as with one lingering smile, I disappeared into the darkness behind the door. 003 slipped through the gap before I closed it and took up his mandatory perch on my shoulder, cooing softly at me. I rested my cheek against him, allowing him to brush his face across my skin. It was a small slice of comfort and I accepted it gratefully.
003: (Just when it was getting good too… It's okay to do that sort of thing if you're both consenting adults, you know? Last time was different… you can't let that rule you forever.)
"I wish I could say 'I know.'" I murmured, bracing my hand against the lower half of my face. "I want it so much to be so."
Ghosts of the past ascended from Hell to peck on me, to shred my skin of the sins I had invoked from others. I thought I had escaped from that place so long ago, that place of the other eternal Hades, segregated to tormented souls and the invokers of sin. All blood on the hands of the sinners was born through those that impregnated those deep-rooted desires. Kokakuro truly was Hades on earth and all around me, somewhere out in the shadows; the eyes of ghosts were watching me. I thought that if I listened hard enough, I could hear their thoughts
Yes, I was foolish. Yes, I wasn't acting normally. I was nothing like the Watari that everyone knew from the Judgment Bureau; the happy energetic one, who tricked Tsuzuki into testing his potions and handed out smiles free to anyone who passed his desk.
No… I wasn't behaving like myself and I hated that. I didn't want to be acting like some unstable idiot whose past prevented him from getting laid in the present. I had allowed Oriya's concern for me to morph into the hatred I had only ever felt for one person; a person who would not have spoken so tenderly to me in light of my bizarre behavior.
But… how could anyone have expected me to keep smiling in that place? Only Mr. Konoe had understood and he had tried to give me an out, so I wouldn't have suffered like I did that night. However, I had fooled myself into thinking I was strong enough to take this case. I had thought of Oriya and my crush and decided that this case was mine.
How did I even think that I could have survived that investigation?
How… when my blood already stained the walls of this place?
Seki…- EC –
Oriya: Ooh my, how ambiguous… (Claps hands together) Now, how about we go celebrate chapter 12's completion with a couple of drinks? I'll buy.
Watari: Yeah! And then we can watch Sukisyo! Or maybe the Muraki AMV!
Muraki: Hem… how about no? I vote for Ai no Kusabi.
Tsuzuki: (Blushes) How about something nice and non-explicit? Like Trigun! That's funny!
Oriya: Only because Vash reminds you of yourself. I vote Tsukihime.
(All exit room chatting about what to watch. Scene fades out)
A/N: Next chapter should be along shortly! Please review and I'll get to it faster! (Ignores shrieks of 'Blackmail!') Hey! I told you how this works, didn't I? Thankyou in advance everyone and I hope all my readers have enjoyed the update!