Dark Adaptation

by Hickok

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

15. Cutthroat Eurynomous: Part 1

Dark Adaptation

Disclaimer: I do not own Descendants of Darkness or any of its affiliating characters and I'm not making a drop of money from writing fanfiction about it. Kinda wish I was… considering that amount of words that have gone into this fanfic, I'd be swimming in it by now!

Note: Tally-ho everyone! (Waves) Welcome to chapter 14 of Dark Adaptation: Cutthroat Eurynomous! There's a lot to get through this chapter, so everyone bear with me please! Due to the length of the last update, this one was only intended to focus on Watari and Oriya again, since I didn't catch up with my story plan last chappie. However, as I am sure everyone is itching to get themselves some more MuTsu action, I decided to include all the characters in this chapter, which means lots of jumping back and forth in perspective! However, since this chapter is so big, it has been cut into 4 parts, which are going to be updated very closely behind one another. I don't want to make my readers wait any longer so I have chosen to do it this way. You'll hear from everyone's POV in chapter 14 except Muraki's, but that's okay, since he'll be with Tsuzuki. (Holds finger to lips) That's all I'm saying. But please try and read as much as you can folks, no matter how tedious it is. There are very important plot points in this chapter and I don't want anyone to be confused later! (A likely occurrence in my fanfiction!) Anyway, enjoy! Watari's POV is up first but we'll be switching to Tsuzuki soon.

Watari

I'll pick up our story, a week from the day that I had arrived at Kokakuro. One long, tiresome, sadly passionless week. I hadn't made much progress in either my situation with Oriya, or with the case itself, both of which may have put another Guardian in an irritable mood. But hey, I was Yutaka Watari! I ALWAYS bounced back!

Well… nearly always. The reason I'm skipping ahead in the story now is because I have no idea how long we're intended to remain in this bloody helicopter for and partly because nothing considerably worthwhile occurred following that very first night when… well, you've already heard what happened that first night. Moving right along.

It was Wednesday night, following dinner. The case wasn't progressing nearly as quickly as I would have hoped. Not only did the samples I had collected a week prior, fail to match any records kept on the Ministry's database but I seemed to have, much to my chagrin, misplaced all the semen samples I was certain I had accumulated from the deceased bodies, not to mention two of the bags containing skin samples. In my embarrassment, I determined that I would not alert Gushoshin to this fact and whenever he brought it up, simply responded with my pre-readied excuse; that I did not want the samples analyzed until I had taken samples from Oriya, so that a negative calibration would have ruled him out as a potential suspect. Which had a mark of truth to it. The knives I had taken from Kokakuro's kitchen also tested negative for traces of blood, so I'd had no luck locating the murder weapon. All in all, it had been a positively shit week, workwise.

Not that my private life had been faring much better. Oriya's attitude the past seven days had been unreceptive to say the least. Whilst I was thrilled in his presence and equally as happy in the company of the five geisha's still working at Kokakuro, I couldn't help but feel out of sorts from time to time. Oriya was as polite to me as I would have expected from any good host. But that was just it. It was the sort of gentlemanly demeanor you could find at just about any upper class establishment. He spoke only to me of the case specifics and employed impersonal banter whenever we all met for meals. There was not another mention of what had happened my first night there, when we had come so close to coalescing as something more than just individual strangers, wound tightly into a despairing situation that neither wanted to cope with. I couldn't say that he was cold to me in the aftermath of my dissuading the progression of our heated session in the sitting room. Rather he was as austere and dignified as always. But it was as though he had purposefully forgotten what had happened and had effectually cast aside the prospective chances that we had of becoming something more. Something serious… like I had been hoping.

My heart hurt sometimes at that… I really liked him. I really wanted to be with him but… there were a lot of issues I needed to overcome before I could commit to him at the level I desired. That perhaps even he desired.

Then there were those times when I sat down and went over my situation with frank though not altogether positive sincerity. Considering who Oriya was, his unrivalled beauty, his wealth and honor, his prestige and kindness… Hell, I'll just say it: Considering how perfect the man was, should it have come as any surprise to me that I was being given the brush off? Why did I think that I had any right to hold onto him? Maybe all he wanted from me was a quick and easy fuck. For God's sake, I had spread my legs to far less prettier things than he, so where was the dishonor in taking pleasure from a creature with my lack of integrity?

But Oriya knew not of that. And I didn't believe it in his nature.

Still… there was the reality. We had not been intimate since that night. Not even close. Except… except after the conclusion of one meal, when he had been passing me to step out into the garden for what I came to realize was his ritualistic smoke of the evening. I had been helping Koneko collect the dishes when Oriya had stopped next to me. He remained that way for some time, not saying or doing anything. I straightened up, mouth parted to question his cease in motor functions when his hand cupped the back of my head and he closed his eyes, resting his chin against the part of my hair for a transient, but highly breathtaking moment. Before I could say anything he was gone, so fast I already saw the curl of smoke from his pipe winding patterns through the warm night air. The weather had started to improve in Kyoto. Spring was drawing to a close and summer was on its way. It was the time of year when flirtations ended and commitments settled.

I took this as a good sign.

That had been some days ago now though. But I had grasped onto that one insatiable touch with everything I had. Though my luck with both Oriya and the Geisha Charm case was stagnant at best, I was fortunate in that my relationship with Oriya's girls had proceeded unhindered. They were all very fond of me and I of them. I was also on rich terms with the cook Yoshi and Oriya's housekeeper Mrs. Koneko. However, the most profound emotional relationship I had established, besides Oriya of course, was indubitably with Akemi Aisubi. I learnt, through my regular interactions with her, that she did not actually dwell in Kokakuro but lived nearby with her current partner and three young children. She had brought them to Kokakuro one day whilst she was studying and I took a few hours off of work to help them explore the garden. Oriya had watched us the whole time and even joined in on our expedition to see how far the yard itself extended. Quite a ways in, we discovered that the four sides of the Kokakuro limited it, as though the garden itself were the contents of an elaborate box. Oriya was clearly a very wealthy man. And on top of that, he was wonderful with kids. I liked to think that I was too but Oriya barely went to any effort to gain their approval. They would hang off of him like spider monkeys and he would lift them up so that they could climb the cherry blossom trees littered around the yard. It came to my attention at that point that the plants within Kokakuro never seemed to shed their leaves or fade in vibrancy. Almost as though the garden was wedged between this dimension and another. Like the Ministry of Hades, where the Sakura bloomed all year round… Regardless of these thoughts, I had a wonderful afternoon being with Akemi's children and Oriya. The rest of my time was spent working on the case like a demon, or playing my part as secretary slash waiter within Kokakuro. Akemi seemed to think I had the act down pat, though I did notice a slight smile on her face when I nearly tripped over whilst carrying a tray of mizutaki out into the restaurant. Considering how clumsy I looked, I believe a slight smile was immaculately polite of her. I deserved a Hell of a lot more for the windmilling effect my legs managed to produce.

Taking into account the amount of work that I had been doing, my leash on Ichibana had loosened considerably and I had taken to letting him out of my glasses often for days on end. Fortunately, the last fourteen years in my service seemed to have mellowed him and he was nominally well behaved. Discounting the instances where he was attempting to charm Oriya and his girls out of their yukata's. But that was relatively composed knowing what else he was capable of. Often he would join us for dinner, where he would quench what was lacking in his preferred diet by scoffing down as much food as possible. My, it was an awesome show of gluttony. He was forced to hide his pointy ears however, lest the girls pick up that something about him was not quite human. They were willing to accept my cover story; that he was merely a colleague of sorts. (Akemi guessed that he was another detective and Ichibana was quite pleased to live up to this. However, the other girls had not but a clue as to what he could have been a colleague in, and were left guessing.) A day ago, I had bound him back into my glasses so that he could rest his essence for a while. Because he had stolen the body of a demon, his immaterial form did not ache whilst he resided in this world. Much in the manner of how Saagatanusu could not be injured by passing into Hades whilst residing in Tsuzuki's body; only in Ichibana's case he had expelled the demon's spirit completely and then killed it before taking the body. … I'm not quite sure whose methods were less moral really.

I think that brings us just about up to speed. From what I gather, quite a bit happened on this particular night, so I'll kick off and when anyone has something to add feel free to butt in.

It was late in the evening and I had just brought Gushoshin's dinner up to the bedroom, where he was working diligently on the laptop. He looked up as I entered the room and slid the door shut behind me with my hip.

"Oi! Gushoshin!" I called, setting the tray down near the workstation. "Have you found any information regarding that demon Mitkiel yet? We'd best get crackin' before the shite really hits the fan!"

Gushoshin sighed grimly as he rested back on his hands, eyes shut against the harsh glare of the laptop. I don't think that the poor creature had taken a break since we'd arrived at the Kokakuro. Unlike me, who'd spent most of his time flirting with the master of the establishment. I had a sudden, though easily dismissible flush of guilt. The case was important true but so was maintaining my sanity. If I didn't distract myself from the despair of what had happened to the one that I loved, it would overwhelm my ability to function. This side occupation of kimono chasing was all that stood between me and the unsurpassable darkness of this grief that wanted nothing more than to snare me with both hands and drag me kicking and screaming back into the past, in which so much pain had been divested. No. It may have been selfish but I wanted to survive my sorrow and not succumb to it as so many around me had. By distracting myself with fantasies of mortal dalliances, if so be it.

It was all I could do.

"I ran a search for that name in the Ministry Demonic Registration records but Mitkiel didn't come up once. So I broadened the search, thinking that maybe it is a misspelling; silent letters that sort of thing but there's not much I can give you." The Gushoshin leant back towards the laptop, albeit reluctantly and ushered me over to view a file he had brought up. "I found information on the spelling that you gave me but it offered more than one definition. I'm not sure if the latter has any significance but it does sound as though the first is the one you are looking for." He twisted the laptop in my direction and I lowered my face to see. There were only a few sentences of information, so it didn't take long to read:

"1: - dfnt: Mitkiel, a demon of the 18th level of Hell. Commanded thirty legions. Demon of Punishment. Was killed in the Battle of Heaven by Archangel Michael."

And then, almost as an after thought:

"2: - dfnt: Mit-Kiel; elements of both light and darkness. Components of which comprise the Nigi-mi-tama and the Ara-mi-tama. Gifts from Heaven and Hell. A being that above all desires to deal out punishment to sinners. Represented by the figure of the Celestial Butterfly."

"I didn't even find this information in the Demonic Registration Records, Mr. Watari. It came up when I entered the name on the Ministry's General Intranet database!"

"Huh? Well that's strange…" I mused, tilting back my head and pressing the knuckle of my index finger against my chin, thoughtfully. Ichibana, who was apparently awake and bored by lack of activity, was trying to distract me by making pink and purple sparks of glitter flash off of the lens of my glasses. But I was too intrigued by the words on the computer screen to take much notice. I looked back down at Gushoshin, who was attempting to yawn in a discreet manner.

"This might even suggest that Mitkiel is not a demon at all! Especially if the original was killed in the Cosmic battle… This line here is interesting: 'Gifts from Heaven and Hell.' I wonder what it could mean by that?"

"Should I look into it further?" Gushoshin suggested wearily, his fingers poised above the space of air beside the keyboard. He was too tired to realize just where his hands were positioned. Since I'm a nice guy, I decided to take it easy on him.

"No, that's enough for the day. Good work however. Is there anything else to report? Did the sigil bring up any matches? I haven't had any luck myself."

Gushoshin moved the mouse to a window at the base of the screen and clicked on it, to enlarge the project. The completed sigil appeared, all lines disproportional with each other.

"It didn't directly match any demon sigils and I have exhausted the database. Some parts matched to a few particular sigils but not as a complete unit."

I thought about the murders and the way the bodies had been positioned atop the rudimentary pentagram. Each body was placed on what would have appeared to be the four sides of the sigil, which from what I could see on the screen, were all different from one another. The fourth girl had survived but I had a strange feeling that she had most likely been in the top right hand corner; the one that had been vacant.

Four bodies… positioned on top of four corners of the pentagram.

"It is entirely possible that the girls bodies are representative of entirely separate sections of the sigil," I was thinking aloud, as I paced in circles around the low table where sat Gushoshin and the laptop. 003 opened one eye sleepily to give me an annoyed look. "In that sense, four parts in a whole are representative of quarters. The puzzle appears to be saying that there are four responsible. I cannot grasp the meaning of the words written on the back of Seki…" I had to pause in order to bring myself back under grips. When I continued I was admonished to hear my voice waver as insufficiently as washing swaying in a cold breeze. "- but the reason why the translation appeared so bizarre is because the sigil is not but one demon's signature, but components of four entirely separate sigils, all placed together like portions of a jigsaw puzzle. I guess what it means is that four demons are responsible."

Gushoshin balked, his expression stretched upward as though I had grabbed him by the top of his head, around the ankles and then literally stretched the explanation out of him.

"WHA! You mean, now I have to research four demons sigils? Ergh! That could take forever!"

"Like I said, don't bother doing it tonight. You've been working hard all day, you should take a break, have something to eat. You didn't even touch the food tray Oriya was kind enough to have prepared for you." At the reminder of food, Gushoshin immediately gravitated back over towards the dinner tray and picked up an oversized pair of chopsticks, eyes gleaming as he noticed the small bottle of shöchu that accompanied the meal. I went to shut off the laptop for him when the djinni piped up from my glasses.

"Recognize that top right hand quarter of the sigil, boss. That there be the signature of the Daemon of Delusion; Balban."

"You sure about that?" I asked skeptically.

"Hey… know you don't trust me all tha' much but I know Balban's sign when I see it. Guy has the messiest signature this side of Hell. Bad temper to top it off."

"Yes, well thank you for the insight," I said as I shut down the computer and scribbled a note of what the djinni had said on a notepad close to the station. "I'll be sure to look into that tomorrow. Um, Gushoshin?" He glanced up, cheeks bulging from an overzealous gulp of shöchu. "I'm going out for a while tonight. I want to question a few people at that bar Ra's Sunline. It may just have been the last place the vic's were at. Make sure you take the rest of the night off, eh? You've worked hard enough for one day!"

Gushoshin was too preoccupied with his food to give a verbal commitment but he waved his drink glass in my direction, which was good enough for me.

"All righty then! Come on out Ichibana!" I announced with cheer, taking off my glasses and tossing them liberally into the air. "As they fell, I quickly uttered the Ejection spell and released the djinni, albeit temporarily from his bind. A flash of light erupted from the lens but Ichibana spared me the usual dramatics of his appearance (He wasn't trying to impress me, see?) and landed daintily on the floor in his favored guise; the cat demon of beauty. As my glasses fell, he dutifully caught them and handed them back to me.

"Thanks." I said, wiping them off before placing them back upon the bridge of my nose. It was then that I was able to get a good look of Ichibana; or more appropriately what he was wearing. Rather than his usual leather ensemble, the djinni was lavishly decked out in tight black hotpants, a top that was made out of mostly belts winding around his bare upper torso and knee high boots with laces up the front and a deadly looking heel. His hands were dolled up in black fingerless leather gloves that went right up to the elbow (matching the one's that I also happened to be wearing) and he seemed to be sparkling with Japan's entire supply of glitter dust. He grinned, showing off two perfect rows of teeth. Taking into account all the black makeup he had on, including lipstick, he resembled some overexcited Rocky Horror fan.

"And just where do you think you're going?" I asked, hands on hips.

Ichibana looked sincerely astounded by my tone. "I'm goin' clubbin' with ya! Did ya really think I was gonna let ye have all the fun?"

I shook a finger at him. "Nope. Nada. Uh uh, no way Hozay. You ain't going to this club, mate."

The djinni looked wounded. His shoulders slumped a little. "Is it an identification problem? Because I haven't been mistaken for bein' younger than twenty-one yet. Or is there some rule against djinn enterin' into this bar? I swear, you humans can be so racist sometimes… I bet they even make djinn in buses stand up so ye earthlings can rest ye discriminatin' asses down-''

"Ichibana, the general human population isn't even aware of the existence of djinn, so there'd be no reason for them to discriminate against you." I explained, both hands raised to fend off the approaching political tirade he was preparing to level with me. "I'm not going out to enjoy myself partying. This is a fact finding mission, nothing more. I was meaning to get it done sooner but things have been so hectic around here…"

"Speakin' of hectic," The djinni said, brushing back his long bangs so that he could level his mischievous gaze upon me. "I notice things ain't progressin' too well 'tween you and that handsome Samurai belle. Watched ye both at breakfast the other mornin' and the only thing that passed between ya was the milk! If I'da known that sort of mess woulda been left behind when I sailed out that firs' night, I woulda chosen m'words more carefully!"

"It wasn't your fault Ichibana." I sighed, examining my reflection in the credenza mirror and consciously sucking my guts in. I was wearing tight navy-blue pants that lifted my bum and a black short sleeved turtleneck tee with the same fingerless elbow length gloves I had worn my first day there. My thong straps were showing; sitting on the rise of my hips, just above the trouser hem. "Oriya and I… well… I'm not sure what to say exactly." I offered the djinni a weak smile. "Things are rather topsy-turvy at the moment."

"Yer tellin' me. I thought the two of ye were on fire! Ye had some good chemistry." Ichibana mused, stepping up to my side and trying to straighten my spine and consecutively tuck in my belly for me. "And this is from a guy whose been gettin' laid for centuries before ye were even a corny pick up line in yer Papa's middle-school repertoire!"

I scowled and swatted his hands away from my stomach. "Well gee, aren't you full of good advice tonight?"

"Ay, at least I ain't bein' my normal charming attention grabbing, tantrum throwing, smart mouthed self, right?" The djinni answered with a shrug. "Ye gotta take what light ye can in a coal mine."

"What a pithy simile you employed there." I said, unable to hide a smirk. Ichibana started to look irked.

"Now yer the one bein' a smart ass! Well, whatever, are we gonna go or what? It could be a lot of fun! You and me, boozin', swingin', flirtin'– no wait, yer pretty much smitten with the Mibu guy, though he in turn seems to have forgotten yer existence, though I can't really blame the guy, what with all these pretty girls around…"

"Ichibana, you're floating!" I snapped, trying to pull him back down to the ground by one of his heels. "Can you imagine what one of those pretty girls would think if they walked in on you levitating about all over the room? Keep in check!"

Ichibana glanced down to see that he was indeed about five or so feet off of the floor and chuckled apologetically as he lowered back within acceptable proximity.

"Sorry, boss. But can ye blame me? When I think about all those lovely belles, I get all of a flutter!" His feet fluttered off of the floor again in support of this statement, his ears also twitching in agreement. "Ah, speakin' of which, that reminds me! Can't have these things stickin' out o' my head all night! Though they are a real conversation starter." He tapped one purple fingernail against his left ear and both shrank down to the rounded, human fashioned shell. The diamond shaped earrings that traced up the edge, jangled slightly at the transformation.

"Ichibana, as delightful as your irritating company would be this evening," I began, turning back to the mirror and soothing my hair out distinctly over each shoulder. "I don't wish to be distracted by anything. Go and do your own thing."

It was a direct order and I could see Ichibana's material form vaguely shudder at his immediate refusal. He shook off the slight jolt and started appealing to me in a somewhat more dignified manner then I had employed with Tatsumi and Mr. Konoe over taking the Geisha Charm case.

"But I've been to every other bar and club in this town! I waited 'specially for you to do yer questionin' thing so we can go ta this one together!"

"Well that's not my fault!" I established, trying desperately to concentrate on brushing my hair. Gushoshin was staring vaguely at Ichibana, the chopsticks poised in transition between the tray and his mouth. The food that had been pinched between that ends, had long since dropped back upon the plate.

"Aww… but Taka-kun…" The djinni whined, turning his eyes watery and doe like, whilst employing the use of my much loathed pet name that Tsuzuki often used when he wanted me to do something. I clonked my hair brush down firmly on the credenza and spun to face the persistent djinni, trying without much success, not to be swayed by the sad look on his inappropriately pretty face.

"Ichibana, you listen here-'' But what he was intended to listen to we shall never know, because it was at that moment my tirade was interrupted by a knock from the door. The djinni turned to the intrusion, waving his arm merrily at whomever was veiled in the darkness of the hallway.

"Come in!" He yelled, sing-songingly.

"Don't tell people to come into my room on your own, it's my room!" I established grumpily. But that was apparently invitation enough because the door slid open and Akemi entered. I was glad to see that formalities had been shelved in the past week and that she no longer bowed to me as greeting. She was dressed in casual clothes, three quarter length pants and a nice U shaped top that allowed subsequent peeks of her full cleavage. Ichibana dutifully appreciated this little bonus and I was ten times more grateful for the fact that Akemi hadn't bowed.

To give credit where credit's due, Akemi was far too mature and dignified to let my perverted imp sway her. She just gave him a polite nod (and his attire a faint smirk) before turning to me.

"Sweetheart, I'm heading home for the evening now." Because Akemi lived outside of Kokakuro, she was forced to drive back and forth everyday; exempting those select nights when it was required that she remain. "Beau asked me to pass along a message to you before I left."

"Why couldn't Oriya get off of his well defined, though somewhat portentous ass and pass it along himself?" Ichibana asked in an unimpressed voice as he focused with unrivalled enthusiasm on his nails. "He's only next door fer cryin' out loud."

Akemi, rather than take offense at Ichibana's cheeky manner, merely rolled her eyes as though agreeing with him.

"To be honest Mr. Kabana, I wonder that myself." She said and now it was my turn to roll my eyes. Ichibana had introduced himself to everyone as Mr. Ichinii Kabana and seemed to find it hilarious that everyone would address him by his last name with such composure. "If I am to be perfectly frank, I don't think he could be bothered getting out of bed. And… well, this is just my opinion but… maybe he was a little nervous about coming to ask you himself, Mr. Watari. Not that he would say anything mind."

"So, what does our employer want with me?" I asked, searching around for a comfortable pair of shoes as a means of hiding my anticipating expression. Akemi fussed with her handbag strap before attending to my question.

"He would like you to see him in his room. That is all he asked me to convey to you. He hopes you will meet with him. I trust he will explain himself fully, unless of course he would prefer to face my wrath."

I laughed, knowing full well that Oriya was well and truly henpecked by Akemi at the best of times, though he hid the reality of their relationship very well.

Ichibana's eyebrows shot up and he bounced over to my side, aiming an encouraging elbow into my lower ribs. I tried to pretend that the air hadn't been entirely knocked out of my lungs.

"Oh my… sounds like Mr. Impotent is finally gonna explain himself. Hunna, hunna!" He squealed, supplying so much virtual encouragement that I'm surprised he never slapped my behind with a wet towel. "Might wanna cancel yer plans fer tonight boss, cause I think yer carriage is bein' directed elsewhere! Down the highway of PASSION!"

"Is sex all you think about?" I asked, rubbing my ribs and systematically wondering whether Oriya's bed was big enough for two. Ichibana just snorted and flicked my nose.

"Now, I know ye humans like ta entertain yer false misconceptions about love and all that shit but I'll tell ye now, it ain't a material notion, mate. Sex is real unlike that drippy, inconsequential baloney ye earthlings all maintain as an excuse not to look moralistically barren. I accepted that centuries ago. Sooner you humans get a handle on it, the better."

"Whatever. I'll still be heading to Ra's Sunline tonight, regardless of anything Oriya has to say," I stated, trying to convince myself more than anyone. I made my way over to Akemi and gave her a polite nod, smiling appreciatively. "Thanks for the message, Miss Akemi. You have a wonderful evening now."

"Oh, you, too." She said ambiguously, winking at me and then turning to wiggle her fingers in farewell to Ichibana. I was glad that Gushoshin had ducked under the workstation, though I think in light of the djinni's outfit it would have been difficult to take even a talking bird into account. "Good evening Mr. Kabana. Don't catch a cold now, you hear?"

"No Ma'am!" Ichibana called, winking at her in return. When Akemi had made her exit, the djinni floated on over to me and leant his face in close, crimson eyes shining even in the hallways darkness. "Hey, Taka. If ye don't want me at that bar, that's cool. I'll head out to this other place I found. They've got this really hot red-haired dancer guy over there, who I think might just be my type. He looks yummy! Anyway, ye know how ta reach me if ye need me."

"Just call your name. Got it." I established with a mock salute. Ichibana made a clucking noise with his tongue and poked me right in the center of the forehead, grinning widely.

"Good luck with ye old Samurai, ya? Gimme the details later! Ta ta!" And with that, his body suddenly dissolved into a mid-air spiral and disappeared completely.

Having wrapped up my business with my Underdweller servant, I proceeded onward the twelve or so steps to Oriya's room. The door was cracked open just an inch, allowing dim light to filter out into the inky blackness of the hallway. I took a moment to fix my hair and psyche myself up and then knocked twice, half believing that Oriya was asleep. It was late after all. Following the first knock however, I was surprised to hear his immediate admittance and I set my hand on the door frame, sliding it into the wall and stepping into the warm confines of Oriya's room.

It wasn't exactly as I had expected. I wasn't sure what I would have expected but from a Samurai, I suppose there was some preconceived threadbare notion that the room would be well maintained, somber and impersonal, with no emotional attachments to either material and non-material aspects; bare bone, simplicity itself. Oriya's room was none of these things.

Well, not to say that it wasn't well maintained. Everything had its rightful place and home. It was certainly neat but it was an accommodating accepting neatness, as though every new addition was welcomed and provided with an area in which it might happily amplify the nature of the room. There were pictures laminated on each of the four walls; pictures of Oriya's family, the girls at the Kokakuro, high school pictures. I recognized a younger Muraki and Oriya in one photograph on the far wall. Oriya had shorter hair and wore it in a high pony-tail on top of his head. He was a pin-up even then. Some people have all the luck.

The wall opposite his bed was entirely dedicated to Samurai swords. My knowledge in the area was rusty at best but from what I could tell, he had a mighty fine collection. Close to two-dozen swords in sheathes that were as lavishly decorated as Oriya's yukata's, rested on wooden supports. It was breathtaking simply standing there, regarding them with wide-eyed jubilance as I had. On the wall beside the large window, which matched the one in my own room, was a walk in wardrobe where I gathered Oriya stored his yukata's and other clothes alike. If I ever had the chance I would have loved to have gone through there and sorted through them all, just to touch and admire the patterns woven into his garments. The man had such good taste and he wasn't reserved when it came to color or style. He looked beautiful in those bright, aesthetic yukata's.

Strangely enough, it was the bed that my eyes took in last. Rather than a thin futon, which was somewhat customary in establishments such as this, Oriya's bed was Western style, though relatively low to the floor as though he had apologetically attempted to redeem himself for dissuading cultural expectations. It was Queen sized, with black sheets and maroon pillows. It looked like a warm and cozy bed. Better than the lumpy doona covered thing shoved into one corner of my apartment like an old sock. I spent most of my nights in the lab however, though the futon in there was hardly better.

Oriya was perched up in bed, dressed in a simple white bed kimono. He was reading what looked like a horror novel of all things but lowered it when I entered, placing his bookmark between the pages he'd been perusing and focusing on me with polite, tenacious interest. He waited patiently until I had finished perving on his room and then continued to wait for me to speak first.

"I thought you had a futon?"

Well… that was an icebreaker Yutaka. God, why did I have to be such a dork? Oriya was kind enough to ignore my sudden attack of stupidity and just smiled, giving the side of the bed an affectionate pat.

"I purchased this the other day. That kick I received last Wednesday inflamed my leg injuries; even with the treatment you gave me. My physician thought it would be best if I acquired a bed off of the floor with a thick mattress. Since my back has also become aggravated, he suggested I shouldn't sleep on hard surfaces for at least a couple of months."

I nodded, realizing that this made perfect sense and disregarding my hopeful theory that he had bought the bed because it would have been more comfortable to tousle in. I was eager to move the conversation along before he had any inkling of my thoughts and found the perfect escape hatch in the book he had been occupied with upon my entry.

"You know, considering that you have Muraki as a best friend, I'm surprised you feel the need to read something like that." I remarked, gesturing at the novel in his lap. Oriya smiled lightly and nodded, setting the book on the bedside table.

"I suppose that does seem strange. But I find that an intriguing thriller heightens my understanding of those factors I am unable to get my head around, not to mention it keeps my senses attune to everything around me. I often pick one up when I'm wakeful." His hands now free, he set them back atop the blankets, which were perched across his waist and he regarded me attentively, as though I were plainly the most interesting thing that he had ever seen. I fidgeted, feeling vaguely disconcerted with his attention focused so astutely on me.

"Akemi… I mean, em… Miss Akemi said you-you-you wanted t-… to see me about something?" I managed to choke out, knowing full well that I sounded like a complete moron. For a change.

Oriya nodded thoughtfully as though only just remembering what he had sent Akemi to do. He raised his hand and gestured at me.

"Indeed. Please step over to the bed. I'm resting my leg and I'd rather not stand."

Thinking nothing of this, I stepped over to the bed, trying not to let his proximity get the best of me. Every time I got near him and thought about what we had done that first night we'd met, my face became flushed and I got all sorts of nervous to such a degree that my high school self would have hidden his head in shame.

Oriya stared at me and made a sideways motion with his head. "Lean down." He commanded. And I did, kneeling at the waist and bringing myself even closer to him. So close that I could see the faint freckles dotted across his nose. I'd forgotten about those.

"Oriya, I-'' My words, whatever the were, became as much a mystery to me as they were to him. Because now that I was close enough, Oriya could kiss me. It happened almost like a dream, his fingers buried through the hair on the back of my head and he gently pushed my lips down onto his. It was such a loving and chaste action. My eyes shot open in shock then, slowly fluttered shut as I admitted the reality to myself. His free hand smoothed my cheek, brushing the loose waves of blond hair behind my ear as he nuzzled his lips sweetly around my own, not once encroaching with his tongue. I placed my fingers atop his as our mouths separated and I felt a smile form unconsciously.

"Oh…" That was all I managed to say. All that needed to be said in that situation. "Oh."

Oriya nodded and pushed the lens of my glasses down slightly in order to place a second kiss against my right eye, the hand on the back of my head making soothing motions across my scalp.

"I understand that I have been distant this past week." He murmured, as I brought one of my knee's up to lean on the bed. My back was starting to ache at being bent at such an angle. "It has been especially hard, since you seem to get more adorable with each day that passes. I was only… well… I meant only to give you some space after how upset you appeared when I came across those marks. I encroached upon something personal and I felt truly discourteous in my actions. I doubted whether you would be in any mind to forgive me for my impertinence so I thought to allow you time to breathe in which we could both sort our feelings through. Then of course, I realized that in my haste to back away, that I could very well have instigated the incorrigible reverse effect. You might have been wounded by my countenance and believed it to be you with whom the fault rested. I assure you now, that this is most certainly not the case. I apologize if I put you through pain because of this. I merely did it… out of respect. Do you understand?"

"Oh Oriya!" I blubbered, relinquishing my self control completely and wrapping my arms around him, smiling with relief as I felt him wrap me up tightly, long chocolate brown hair falling on either side of my head and trailing down my back like rich twin waterfalls. "For a while there I thought… well I guess I figured that you might have been… oh, who cares what I thought now! You're really not mad at me then?"

The Samurai smiled and drew back a little, running his fingers down the side of my face and sending unaccountable thrills throughout the rest of my body with this single, perfect touch.

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous. You were never at fault for anything."

Oh Lordy… he really was perfect. I smiled as he kissed my temple and ran his fingers down my back tenderly.

"If… if you are comfortable doing so… would you please sit with me for a while?"

I glanced up into his eyes, trying to determine whether or not there was a certifiable absence in sincerity. I could sense no mockery in his face. I could feel my own going hot however.

"Sit… with you?" I asked in a trembling voice.

He nodded, running his thumb over my cheek as though this would have somehow erased the blush. I wish it had. "Yes. Just sit here beside me and let me hold you. All week I've been wanting to. But I didn't want to impose myself on you if you weren't ready. Yutaka… I am willing to make something of this but that first night, I think you'll agree that we both got a little carried away. From here on in, shall we take it slow?"

I nodded, though his reference to that first passionate night of our meeting did nothing to dial down the heat of my cheeks.

"You don't have to sit with me if you don't want to." Oriya established, tapping his fingernails along the indent of my spine. Small noises came from my lips as though they were produced by his tapping upon note cords buried deep beneath my skin. "I ask that nothing more pass between us. Only that we sit together on this bed. And even that, you are under no pressure to commit to."

I thought of Ra's Sunline and my commitment that evening to go and question the people that worked there. It was getting late… But oh GOD that bed looked comfortable. And oh GOD the man that was in it looked sexy. Once more I was the rope in a brutal game of tug and war and I was awfully weary of being stretched between everything.

"Uh… Oriya… it's not that I don't want to… because I really, really do, more than you can imagine … but… I have work to be doing and I need to put that first. … I think."

"I understand that completely." Oriya stated, running his hand up my back, his fingers spreading outwards at the base of my neck and massaging the tension that was knotted there. I tilted my head back, crooning against my will at his touch. Will to work… fading… Obligation to Ministry of Hades… fading… Thoughts of quitting job and becoming Pimp's full time housewife… increasing… "But you've worked pretty hard all week… I'm not asking you to spend the whole evening with me. Just ten minutes or so. Ten minutes." His eyes looked at me pleadingly, his deep husky voice dropping another cord. "Don't you want to?"

Oh, yes, I wanted to. Without a doubt I wanted to, both physically and emotionally. It took me approximately three and a half seconds to come to my decision.

"I guess… ten minutes isn't going to hurt in the long run…" I murmured.

Oriya smiled and let go of me in order to pull the bed sheets back. He petted the empty space beside him temptingly.

"Hop on in." He said.

It felt strange climbing into Oriya's bed in sexy pants and a tight black tee. It was not at all how I imagined my first transition in between his sheets to be. Not that I was complaining, mind. The bed was warm and soft and Oriya's arm was around me. I felt… safe. And though it was a premature concept, I felt loved in that moment. There was none of that embarrassment from our first night, no hesitant false starts at conversations, no sideways glances or second thoughts. Nothing. I just closed my eyes, resting my face and hand against his stomach and snuggled up beside him, cosseted from the world. There, curled up next to that strong and cultured man, it was as though nothing in existence could lay a finger on me. I even felt protected from my horrible past. From the murders, from everything that hurt my heart and my soul.

Oriya would protect me from it. For some reason I can't explain, I never doubted that. I trusted him with everything I had.

Oriya picked up his book and opened it to the page he had marked and started to read. It didn't bother me. I was able to enjoy the silence, the slight rise and fall of his body, his lungs expanding and deflating, the soft hush of his breath, the thud of his heart. It was such an innocent union that I was even able to wind my legs around his underneath the blankets and know that he wouldn't think I was implying anything by it. Occasionally, he would stroke my shoulder or move his hand down to rub across the indents of my ribcage, but not a word passed between us during all of this.

I had never enjoyed such peaceful serenity with a man before.

"You're wonderful…" I said after the full ten minutes had subsided. "Are you sure old Kami isn't going to come down here and whoop your ass for wandering so far away from Heaven?"

Oriya laughed at this; a great, serenading cackle that was as sincere in its appreciation of my words as his eyes had been only minutes earlier.

"Are you kidding me, fella? Implying that I'm some kinda Angel… my word…" He chuckled happily and spent a kiss against my forehead, still laughing against my skin. "After everything you saw me do to that kid three months ago, after covering up for Muraki, you'd still call me an angel?"

I shrugged, seeing his point but not necessarily agreeing with it. "Hey, it's not as though you're Muraki, Oriya. And Hisoka… well, I'm pretty sure you understood that you would have left no lasting damage. You're just loyal to your friends. I think that makes you pretty damn special. How many men do you think would have done all that you have? It's amazing!"

"Amazing ain't the right word for it. And I'm no angel." His voice was gruff now. And cold. The humor had left it completely. Worried that I'd touched a sore nerve, I ran my fingers up to his neck and traced them across the protruding artery as softly as I could.

"I'm sorry… I don't have any idea what you've gone through with-'' His hand caught my fingers and pressed them to his lips.

"Don't apologize. You haven't done anything wrong. It's just… old wounds I suppose. You understand." He said with dignity.

"Oriya-'' I said, but he cut me off dramatically by his free hand cupping around my cheek, fingernails running up and down over my temple. His eyes held a fierce intensity that I hadn't seen before. As serious as Oriya could be, I had come to realize over the past week that he also had quite a prodigious sense of humor. At that moment however, there was not a distinguishable trace of mirth in his expression.

"Stay with me tonight."

The man seemed to have issues with requesting a person's compliance. Perhaps as a result of his occupation and the skill in which he manipulated those in power meant he rarely had to resort to tactics such as begging.

But… why on earth was I thinking about things like that when he had just asked me to spend the night with him? The reality hit me with thrilling clarity and I felt a sweet little pain in my stomach by the expiration of his sentence.

"You mean you… you want to…" I pointed back and forth between him and myself so fast that my finger became a blur. "Let me sleep in your bed?"

He seemed fairly amused by my words and gave my hair a tousle. "That was the general idea yes. Would that make you uncomfortable?"

I shook my head rapidly, almost dismantling my glasses in the process and grabbed a hold of his arm, leaning my face in close to his.

"No! How on earth could that make me feel uncomfortable?" I asked rhetorically. When he seemed to be on the verge of answering this, I grabbed his chin firmly in my hand and yanked his eyes back into alignment with my own. "It's just so… great that you wouldn't mind someone like me sharing your bed without wanting anything else! … There is nothing else that you would expect is there?"

"Oh no, no, no, goodness no." Oriya confirmed sagely, cupping the hand I had placed around his chin and rubbing his thumb across the patch of skin visible through the square cut of my glove. "I only… I only wish for your company tonight. You may think it strange but I… I have a bad feeling. I don't wish to be alone tonight. So… please?"

He was completely serious. He actually desired my company. Needed it rather then wanted it. And how profoundly did I wish then that I had agreed to his proposal, postponed my delegations for another night and snuggled down into bed with him; not without first changing into some suitably sexy pajama's of course. It would have been so easy. I was already kind of tired and lying beside Oriya for ten minutes alone had already dissolved my desire to remove myself from his presence.

But no one could ever accuse me of skirting my responsibilities. I knew I had a job to do. And no matter how good Oriya made me feel, the case was top priority. She was top priority. Romance was just gonna have to wait!

"Oriya…" I said, my voice wilting like flower petals in the heat of resilient sunlight. "I can't stay with you right now. I have a lot of work to be getting on with-"

"But it would be safe to assume that you will be sleeping at some point during the night?" Oriya asked in a tone that was as close to desperation as I was sure he could manage. "I'm not asking that you forego your work at this very moment. Only that when you do concede to resting that far overworked brain of yours, that you might return here and do so beside me in this bed. Of course you have every right to say no." As though trying to dissuade me from taking this route, he ducked his face downward and planted a soft kiss against my lips. I had never known a man to be so affectionate with me before. Even one of my more serious boyfriends couldn't bring himself to be tolerant with me. If my lips so much as looked as though they might have expelled the word 'no' he would go into an extended sulking fit and would spend the night facing the opposite wall, acting as though I wasn't in the bed at all. Once upon a time I had been such a weak man that I had given into these guilt trips and would have done what he'd asked of me, just so harmony could be restored. I generally disliked conflict and avoided it whence possible. Fortunately, I had grown up a lot since then and not only was I less prepared to sacrifice my own feelings for those that I was with, I was now infamous for my somewhat feisty personality that was almost an expected trademark of Osaka folks. I was more inclined to be good natured and compassionate, (if not somewhat kooky and silly) but I wasn't compelled to take shit from anyone. Especially people who were supposed to love me. I had become guarded within relationships, since my last one had gone so wrong.

Oriya however did not make me feel uncomfortable. He did not force me to do anything that I was uneasy with; indeed he seemed overtly concerned that he enquired as to my feelings on the subject, following his suggestions. And it wasn't as though he would enforce this gentlemanliness as a means of boosting his situation as many other men were prone to do. It was always fairly easy to tell when someone was being phony about it. (I'd had plenty of experience in these matters and that was just taking into consideration my observations of the Count's attempts to woo Tsuzuki.) But Oriya seemed so sincere… As though sex was never his first priority when it came to anything. That it would be enough that I would sleep at his side, or touch his fingers or share a chaste kiss. It still baffled me how a man like him could have been allied with Muraki; who showed no love or compassion to anything other than Tsuzuki. And I wasn't convinced that that was altogether genuine either.

I wrapped my fists around the halves of Oriya's kimono and leant my head between them, pressed into the wall of his chest. He smelt good… like smoke and tealeaves. I was fairly sure that I could read the future from the lines of his chest.

"I'm not going to say no," I told him softly, paying special attention to his arms as they wrapped around my waist. I could feel the pressure ring through my body like the chime of wedding bells. "This is exactly where I wanna be…" I looked up at him and smiled. "As soon as my works finished, I promise I'll be right here next to you! Though it might be a little late by the time I'm ready to sleep… So don't bother waiting up for me, okay?"

Oriya smirked and rubbed the small of my back with his strong fingers. "Hey, you take as much time as you need, cher. When you're done just come in through the door and hop right in. But… it would be a miracle if you could do it without rousing me. My reflexes being as they are… well, a spider can't make its way across the wall without alerting me to its presence."

I had witnessed the extent of Oriya's spider phobia during the previous week. In fact, it had me doubled up in mirth whilst his servants ran around trying to calm Oriya as he pursued a spider throughout Kokakuro, slicing up every inch of the wall that the arachnid had touched. Considering how advanced his reflexes were, I figured that he would have nailed the critter in a few seconds max but he was so hysterical that every swing went wildly off the mark. He resembled the Summons Sections combined efforts to learn how to play golf on our last staff vacation. Plenty of divets. Plenty of insurance claims. Plenty of lectures and tears from Tatsumi once we were back in the safety of Hades. The point being, was that the spider eventually escaped from Oriya and the rest of the night had been spent repairing the walls and doors that he had dismantled during the high drama chase. I hadn't been able to stop laughing. A grown man of his size and of such normally composed standards, had been roused into flailing hysterics by the sight of an eight legged bug that hadn't even been the size of his thumb. However, it had made me curious in regards to his 'disability', as I had heard him refer to it. The manner in which he had severed that chopping board on that first night… and since then I had seen other similar displays of speed and precision, which just didn't appear possible. At least… not by mortal restrictions.

"About your abilities…" I began but he silenced me primly by setting his finger across my lips.

"Now, now. The less said about that the better." He intoned with a wink. I frowned at him and went to further press my point but was again silenced, this time by a kiss upon my cheek. "I insist that you go on now and get that work done. The sooner you wrap it all up the sooner you can come to bed. Oh and one last thing," I paused, one leg already poised over the edge of the bed. "I don't know if Akemi told you or not but I've instigated a new rule this past week, in accordance to the murders. It applies to not only those that are on my staff but to everyone that I have employed."

"Including me?" I asked.

Oriya set his hand on mine and rubbed my fingers softly. "Especially you." He said cryptically and my heart beat a thousand marches in a matter of seconds. "Due to the recent unfortunate circumstances, I have no choice but to implement a curfew. Until the murderer is located, I don't want anyone going out of grounds after the hours of ten o'clock, unless of course they are heading home and they may only do so after first confirming it with me and that they are escorted by either myself or with someone that they trust. At the moment it is only Akemi and Mrs. Koneko who are living outside Kokakuro and I know both their partners personally. They are good men; strong men and I trust them. Now I understand that this will be something of an inconvenience to you Yutaka, as you will be investigating areas outside Kokakuro in order to effectively solve this case. I apologize but I must insist that you delegate all expeditions to the daytime hour. If this is impossible, then I ask that you make it known to me at the time of departure the reason why you must go at such a late hour. If I see that there is no other option left available to you and I am unable to negotiate a more favorable time in which you might make your visit, then I will accompany you to your designation. It is under my responsibility as your employer that I do so, regardless of any danger you might face. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Oh dear God… This meant that I was going to have to tell him right now to get out of bed and come with me to Ra's Sunline, which was totally unacceptable! He said just previously that he was resting his leg and didn't fancy moving, so to make him shift his ass now… I would have liked to have lectured him about the stupidity of applying such a rule to me when I was a grown man and a Guardian at that, but I think he was trying to be chivalrous. I think. Still, I resented the fact that he hadn't considered the possibility that I might have actually been capable of taking care of myself. For crying out loud… I grew up in Osaka; the bad boy city of Japan! Even with a (possibly) demonic killer on the loose, I doubted that I would encounter too much trouble questioning a few folks at a bar.

I would look back at these thoughts later and laugh very bitterly.

I winked at Oriya and made an 'OK' sign with my fingers. "Perfectly Boss!"

Oriya smiled and raised my fingers to his lips, kissing the very tips of them. "That's a good boy. Now, go finish up your work and return to me."

I nodded and climbed out of that warm bed with much reluctance. I was heading towards the door when Oriya called me back.

"What is it?" I asked, pausing at his bedside and leaning down. He made a whirling motion with his finger.

"Turn around." He said simply.

Such a command was never usually followed by anything I would be comfortable telling people out loud, but in this instance it was nothing so scandalous. As I stood there, with my back to the beautiful man in the bed, I felt his hands slide up my hips and his fingers hooked around my visible thong straps. Before I could issue a sound of protest, he tugged them down sharply and tucked them into the hem of my pants where they could not be seen.

"Oriya?" I asked, confused by this sudden compulsion of his.

He snorted gruffly, fingers fetching around the hem of my pants to make sure that no part of the straps were visible.

"It looks tarty, Yutaka." He said simply, rubbing his thumb across the skin of my hip comfortingly. "You're not a tarty man. You look beautiful in clothing like this and there is simply no need for the effect to be ruined by presenting yourself like a sexually promiscuous teenage girl. You're worth a little more than that."

Am I worth more than that? I found myself wondering. It was a question that was torturously difficult to answer, even within the confines of my own head.

"I don't know…" I whispered, walking back towards the door. I don't think he heard me.

The bed shifted under his weight as he settled down. There was a rustle as he retrieved his novel and opened it back up to the place where he had marked it. I turned my head to say goodbye and was a little taken aback by the expression on his face. His eyes were focused on the pages of the book and his mouth was creased into a tight thin line. He seemed angry.

"Trust that I know." Was all he said. And I knew that he had heard. "Now, go on and finish your work. I'll be waiting for you."

My tongue was struck mute. All I could manage was a rigid snap of my head, which barely passed for a bow and then I slid the door shut with a rude amount of gusto. I was surprised that it didn't slide right through the wall and collapse the foundations of the building. But Oriya didn't complain. At least not verbally.

I left Oriya's room with that familiar twisting sensation writhing about in my abdomen. It was a good pain, an exciting pain, like being bitten during a moment of explosive passion. As important as my work at Ra's Sunline was, a large part of me was selfishly cherishing the moment when I would be able to return to Oriya's room and curl up with him. It had been so long since the last time I had shared a bed with a man, with the intention of sleeping and nothing else. … Excluding the times when Tsuzuki and I had collapsed on one of our beds after a night out of heavy drinking. Though I think a fair amount of cuddling went on then too… but if it hadn't been Tsuzuki it would have been the pillow. In that state either was just as good.

As though indicative of my thoughts, the moment that I stepped back into my room to retrieve my shoes, my mobile phone rang from the charger against the wall. I made my way over to it and picked it up, checking the name that had appeared on the small, brightly flashing screen.

-TSUZUKI CALLING-

Tsuzuki

Right! I'll take over from here, since if it's going to be told, it may as well be told from me. And before I get started, if anyone here laughs, or chortles, or looks as though they find my drunken rambling to be amusing in any way, shape or form, I swear that when these handcuffs are taken off, you'll be the first ones I'll be coming after. Are we clear? Good. I know you'll all let me down anyway but I just thought I'd say it while I had a chance.

Okay, so it was me calling that night. And before anyone asks, yes, I was indeed drunk at the time of this phone call. Chalk it up to depression at being paid the lowest amount in the Judgment Bureau, despite all the work and the hours I put in.

And the fact that it had been exactly one week since I had seen Muraki and considering the way that things had been left between us… could anyone blame me for feeling nervy? I keep expecting the guy to pop out of broom closets at work with armfuls of roses and extravagant apologies in the form of expensive holidays and teeny maid's outfits that I would be blackmailed into wearing on our next outing. Drinking was the only thing helping me sleep at night. Though it kept me tossing and turning all day at work, much to Tatsumi's nostril flaring disapproval. If the guy had ever suffered a hangover in his life, he would have understood my agony too. But no… he couldn't understand what I was currently going through because I hadn't told him. I had meant to, (really!) time and time again but something always conveniently came along and saved my pay-check from the imminent destruction Tatsumi would unleash upon it once hearing of my involvement with dear Dr. Satan. Not to mention how close I had come last time to… to… My cheeks went red every time I thought about it! The next day at work, nursing a very crippling hangover and a shitload of embarrassment, I couldn't come close to forgetting everything that had happened. To Pandora… the demon… but most of all, Muraki's hands all over my body, touching me as I had never been touched before. I had let him take my clothes off and press to my naked body, let him kiss me and stroke me and run his hands across my ass… I had asked him… asked him… It made me want to scream with frustration. Anger at Muraki, anger at myself for how much I had desperately wanted it at that moment. I'd been… so horny. Nothing in my life could have compared to the state of arousal I had found myself in that night. Muraki had been right though. The next morning I would have regretted it. I regretted going as far as I already had but it had been him, not me, that had forced me to consider the aftermath of my reckless actions. For his own selfish reasons of course, not my own. But it didn't matter. What mattered was that it had been me who would have done it if he hadn't said no. It was my blood that was hot, it was me that decided that I wanted him to penetrate my body and fuck me until I had fainted. I couldn't go near Hisoka for the guilt of it. I moved into another office in order to get through my paper work and took to avoiding him when it wasn't necessary that we were together. He knew that something was up; Hisoka's not stupid and where his powers were unable to make the connection, his mind filled in the spaces. But I just couldn't tell him… I couldn't have faced that look in his eyes, that expression of deepest betrayal. I couldn't have handled him hating me.

So I dealt with it alone. Which was so unbelievably stupid of me. I had tried to do this before with the knowledge of my past and it had very nearly stripped me of my sanity. It could very well have done the same a second time. I tried dealing with alcohol. In the week that Muraki was absent from my afterlife, I filled the nights alone drinking in the Tokyo bars close by to the Sakura Zensen so that I was able to drag myself home afterwards. That night hadn't been any different. But I was in desperate need of talking to someone who understood my plight. Someone who knew what I was going through and I didn't have to hide it from when I spoke to them. I needed to speak with Watari. … No… No, what I needed was him back with me, taking care of me. Taking care of me the way he had after Kyoto three months ago and even then, in the days preceding and following. When I was too drunk to drag myself out of a pile of my own vomit, he would wipe me clean and bathe me, get me dressed for bed and stay with me all night to see that I slept well. Even when nothing else was going right for me, I was always assured of that much; a warm and sensitive man that lived only across the hall from me, whom I could run to whenever I had need of him. And he would always open that door and welcome me inside.

But he wasn't there anymore. His apartment was filled only with the sounds of the two pets he had been unable to take to Kyoto; his Penguin I-T2 and his Toucan- Project 59 (Why couldn't he give his pets normal names?) whom I went over to feed every morning and evening. I was lonely without him. It just wasn't as fun at work without his exuberant presence. Now, faced with his absence I began to realize just how neglectful I had been of him since Hisoka and I had become partners. I wondered if Watari had noticed this, or whether he in fact cared at all that it had happened? He wasn't the type of guy who would begrudge anyone for alternating their affections towards those who had need of it. And he had never been sharpish or cruel to Hisoka, so there was no indication that he was bitter of him. But maybe I was simply overrating the importance of my friendship.

Thousands of words were racing through my mind that night. Hisoka had insisted on coming out to the bar with me. (Apparently Tatsumi had noticed my lush-ish behavior in the last couple of days and was worried but had the institutionalized power of delegating less favorable tasks to the underlings. These tasks were of course dragging my drunken body back to my apartment. Tatsumi still hadn't recovered from the time Watari and I had taken him out to celebrate his hundredth and eleventy-twelfth birthday and Watari had thrown up on his shoes.) In Hisoka's presence I managed to moderate the amount of drinks I consumed, not working to weaken my psyche and allow him easier access to my emotions. (Drinking weakens our psychic barriers because when we are intoxicated we aren't exactly in fine form. Our concentration lapses.) Therefore, I was only moderately tipsy by the time we both headed back to Sakura Zensen but I made up for it by making myself a couple of tall screwdrivers once I was in the shabby but cozy interior of my living room. Since I had a tendency to add more vodka to my concoctions then orange juice, I soon found myself well and truly drunk. Not as drunk as I had been with Muraki mind. I came to myself somewhat after throwing up and catching a glimpse of my reflection in the stainless steel of my sink. That's when it fell to me to clean myself up, brush my teeth and make myself a cup of coffee. I wasn't going to become a stupid drunk because of Muraki, Goddammit. I'd come through worse then this and I rose above that. I would rise above this too.

My head was swimming with the remaining haze of alcohol that I hadn't managed to expel from my system but I was starting to feel better after a good half hour of resting and sipping water and coffee in alteration. I was thinking of Muraki and then of Watari and then of the future possibilities that might have come about from my continuation of this deal with the white doctor. Though I had not seen him in a week, he had called me once. I hadn't picked up, furious though I was and he instead settled for leaving me quite a lengthy message on my machine. He apologized for what had passed between us and mentioned, almost in passing, that he was going to Saiki for business and probably wouldn't be able to see me for some time. He couldn't specify an exact date but he would get back into contact with me as soon as he returned to Tokyo, which he hoped would be very soon. Oh, and he had washed my suit for me and would return it to me, when next we met. The minutes would seem like hours until we could be reunited, blah, blah, blah, crap, crap, crap, whatever. The sad thing was, coming from anyone else, the words would have made my toes curl. To hear them spoken in Muraki's nasally undertones, especially after what had happened a week ago, I wanted nothing more then to have thrown the answering machine out of the window. Then have it run over a few times. But for some reason I couldn't bring myself to do it. And even worse, somewhere deep down, in the part of myself that I hated the most, I couldn't deny that the message sparked a sense of melancholy. Because… Oh God how I despised it… but I missed him…

When I had realized this, I had cried whilst I had been standing over the answering machine, trying to muster the courage to press delete and rid myself of his presence within my apartment forever. But I couldn't… And so I cried and walked away from the machine, wanting to curl up and die. I was such a worthless piece of shit! To feel that way about the man who had ruined Hisoka's life, who had ruined so many people's lives… I deserved to die. I deserved to die… It became a mantra that I repeated to myself as I cried; something that didn't calm me but only made me cry harder. Because I didn't want to die but I knew it was what I deserved.

When Muraki returned, he would eventually want more from me. Would I be able to give it? Would I want to give it? Was that even relevant? I didn't even know anymore… But I wanted to be ready for the inevitable, whatever it was.

So it was, on that Wednesday night, a week after I had last seen Muraki, that I shamelessly got on the phone to Watari late at night and posed a question to him that I couldn't have imagined ever asking. Not anyone. Not ever. I blame the screwdrivers that were still determinedly drilling deep down into my consciousness.

"What's it like?" I asked the second Watari had picked up. There was a silence on the other line as my friend obviously tried to make heads or tails of this.

"Uh… hi Tsuzuki. Nice to hear from you, too. What's 'what' like?" He asked curiously, but in a tone that suggested that he wasn't going to like what 'what' was at any rate. I doubted he would have been thrilled either but I really needed to know. I was scared out of my brain at the prospect… of what I had nearly done a week ago and what to have expected if it came down to actually…

"You know, anal sex." I said conversationally as I took another sip from my coffee. If I hadn't been half drunk, I would never even have had the courage to bring up the topic of sex, let alone ask Watari what it was like. Once again, the screwdrivers. "I'm worried that next time I'm with Muraki I might, well, you know! So, I want to know what it's like so that I know what to expect."
Watari had elapsed into a coughing fit on the other line. Clearly this was something he hadn't been expecting either. It took him a full minute to come to his senses whilst I sat there, chalking up my phone bill.

"Tsuzuki! You're not actually thinking about you-know-what with you-know-who, are you?" He asked incredulously. Then he answered his own question. "Have you been drinking?"

"Yep." I said proudly. "But that ain't got nothing to do with the fact that I'll probably most likely, maybe, probably, will end up havin' sex with the guy. I mean, that's what he's aiming for right?"

"Oh Tsuzuki," Watari said softly and his tone was as pitying as I had ever heard it. "Honey, you can't just give it away like that. Do you have any idea how awesome it is that you've managed to stay a virgin for so long? Do you really wanna throw it away on Muraki?"

I shrugged, even though he couldn't very well see me and took another gulp of my coffee. Everything was coming into focus a lot more easily now, though I knew I was going to have another killer hangover in the morning.

"Doesn't really matter what I want, does it?" I slurred, tucking my legs beneath me on the couch and whipping my tie off from around my neck. I threw it over the arm of the couch and let it hang there. "I'm just thinkin' about what's pro'lly gonna happen."

"I can only imagine what Tatsumi thinks about this…" Watari muttered and I felt a twinge of guilt at the fact that I hadn't actually told Tatsumi anything regarding my predicament. "Well… whatever the case I suppose it wouldn't hurt to humor you. If indeed you do end up doing… thingy with Dr. Satan, you'll have some way of anticipating what is likely to occur. The fact that you asked so blatantly however is not something one expects to hear when answering the phone in the evening."

"You gonna tell me or not?" I asked impatiently.

Watari seemed to sit on this for a while, as though trying to determine from which angle to come at it from. Finally he settled on what I suppose was the direct approach.

"Well let's see… anal sex is… well it…" He was having trouble finding the words, so I decided to help by firing off the question that I had always pondered over during most of my existence.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, setting my coffee cup down on the table and wondering whether Watari was blushing whilst he attempted to explain this to me. I would have been, if I hadn't been half drunk. "From what I've heard it sounds really painful… but then guys keep on having sex like that, so there must be something good in the whole thing right? What's the secret?"

"There's no secret Tsuzuki, it just takes practice." Watari explained languidly, as though he had been teaching Sex-Ed his whole life. "The first time you allow another man to penetrate you it always hurts because your body isn't yet used to it. In your case, you probably won't ever be able to grow accustomed to it because you're already dead. Your body will keep trying to heal."

Well, there's a cheery thought.

"However, if you have a considerate partner, (and I wouldn't bet my teeth on Muraki being all that gentle in the sack either) who prepares you thoroughly beforehand, then it will hurt markedly less. You have to ensure that you are stretched and lubricated well before penetration. The more time spent on this the better. And if your partner is gentle whilst penetrating you then you can avoid most of the initial sting. Though there's always going to be pain involved Tsuzuki. It's part and parcel with being gay."

Ain't that the truth. "So, Watari… what was your first time like? Did it hurt really bad? Is there anything I should know?"

Watari was quiet for a long time and just when I thought that I had asked a very personal, very rude question, he spoke, shattering my thoughts and then bringing my senses out of drunken haziness with a close to bitter, angry reply.

"My first time wasn't idyllic, Tsuzuki. It was so anti-idyllic actually that one might even say it wasn't exactly consensual. Which is why I want you to take every measure to avoid making the same mistakes."

"Watari-"

He plowed on as though he hadn't heard me. "I'm not sure what advice I can give you for being with Muraki. He's obviously very fond of you but there's not guarantee that he's going to be gentle just because of that. You may have to resign yourself to the fact that he might not be. The most important thing in this case, to spare yourself any pain would be to relax your body as much as possible. If you tighten up, it's additionally painful. Try to make sure that you're lubricated well before anything happens, even if it means letting Muraki use his mouth down there. Yes Tsuzuki, you know exactly what I'm talking about." He said as I groaned and blushed. I'd always been uncomfortable with the notion of rimming and imagining Muraki's lips anywhere near the same place that I… well, it just creeped me out. "There's no point in being shy once you've started, you must take care of yourself because Muraki isn't likely to."

"Once again, might I ask if anything good actually comes out of sex?" I was rubbing my forehead, trying to keep my brain exploding from the depth he was going through to give me a good lesson.

Watari made a noise of affirmation. "Mmmhmm. Yep. There will be pain to start off with, but it eventually gets better. It may take a few tries before you get used to it but after a while, it starts to feel really good. Especially if your partner can hit your prostate."

Being an old, sexually inactive man, I wasn't exactly sure what the prostate was. I didn't spend too much time thinking about, I must confess. All I knew was that it was something like the female clitoris and that it was good. Fearing being labeled stupid and receiving a two hour science lecture over what the prostate was, I put it aside under 'Things that need to be better researched later on Encyclopedia Britannica.'

"Now, is there anything else I can help you with? Would you like me to fax you over an extensive guide to various sex positions? I'm sure I can find something through Google." Watari concluded, sounding tired and irritable. I decided to be kind and wrap up the conversation as soon as possible.

"Just one more question; How are things going between you and Oriya? Has anything good happened yet? Well! Come on, spill!"

This was clearly the right thing to ask in this case. Watari's drowsiness immediately evaporated.

"Oh, Tsuzuki, it's wonderful. Get this; one minute after I had introduced myself, the guy grabbed me and kissed me! Right there on the doorstep! We almost ended up doing it that very night."

I whistled, suitably impressed. "Wow… I underestimated how fast even you can be, Watari. And hey, don't get me wrong, it's great and all, but why the hell did he kiss you the second he met you? That seems a little… premature doesn't it? Or am I just getting old?"

Watari chuckled. "I won't touch that one. But you're right; I did think it was a little bit strange at first, not that I'm complaining mind. It seems that Muraki spoke to him that night I accompanied you both to dinner. Told Oriya that I fancied him."

"Muraki did?" I didn't bother to hide my surprise. "That doesn't seem like him."

"Not exactly the type to play matchmaker, is he? Regardless, you can thank him for me! Everything seems to be going well… casewise it is dragging a bit, but I'm sure something will come up. After our impulsive fumblings that first night, Oriya backed off for a bit and I figured that he probably just came to his senses and realized what a huge bungle he nearly made. But he spoke to me this evening and said he wanted to take things slow and then… then he kissed me!" He was rambling on like an excited child in a tizzy over a new toy they had just received after five months of anticipating its arrival. His eagerness made me smile. "It's so weird… when I'm around him, he stirs a desire in me like I've never known before. Not with anything! I' m so happy it's scary! Do you think there's something wrong with me? Or is this truly that mysterious chemistry that they call love? Oh, who gives a damn; I'm happy! "

"Watari," I tried to reason but it was difficult to sound rational when I was tipsy and grinning from ear to ear. "You just met the guy a week ago and you sound ready to give up your whole life to cook his meals and do his laundry for him."

"I am. I love him." Watari declared loutishly.

"You do not love him, you barely know him." Again, my powerful logic was ignored in favor of Watari's prevailing adoration.

"Yes, I do. I love him and I'm going to marry him and have his babies." He said, managing to convey all of this without the slightest flicker of a giggle. I, on the other hand, was rolling with laughter.

"Okay, love him I might be willing to let slide. But marrying him and having his babies? They won't let two men marry any time soon and that's assuming Oriya would agree to it in the first place and having babies is even out of your league, Watari!"

The scientist didn't skip a beat. "Well, I'll just have to perfect that sex-change potion then, won't I?" He sang heartily. I laughed, finding almost everything the man said to be funny. I was in one of those moods.

"You crazy guy." I said affectionately, wishing he could have been there so I could have given him a big hug. "Well… you take it easy over there, hear? Try to pace yourself. Oh, and say a big hello to 003 from Uncle Tsuzuki."

"I'll make sure he gets the message." Watari said, with an equal amount of affection.

"And also, send me a picture of this Oriya guy through email, why dontcha? I wanna see if he's as hot as you make him out to be."

"Suclablur! How could you even doubt my immaculate taste?" Watari cried in a faux French accent. He completed the effect by breaking off into a perverted giggle. "Though I must admit, it would be my pleasure to take some candid photographs of him when he least expects it…"

I grimaced. "I would prefer it if he was clothed in the pictures, Watari, thank you. Anyway, I guess I should be letting you go now. It's kinda late."

"True, true…" Watari admitted reluctantly. "Give my love to all the guys in the Summons Section. Tell 'em I miss em all and tell Terazuma that I did indeed get his 46 text messages and that I have simply taken to ignoring him, whilst laughing at his current dilemma from the safety of Kyoto."

I smiled nervously. "Is there actually a cure for what you've done to him, Watari? Or is he expected to walk around with… well, you-know, for the rest of eternity?"

An evil chuckle wafted down the phone line. Watari could really give Muraki a run for his money with a malevolent little snicker like that.

"Well, of course, I could easily tell him how to fix the problem but where's the fun in that? Chikawa would scold me terribly if I took the thrill out of his current project!"

"Chikawa…? Is that the guy that's standing in for you at the moment?"

"Mmmhmm. He's training to be my assistant. I think he may just have the knack to keep up with my brilliant standards… call it a hunch of the intellect."

"Yes, well… all right," I said, not entirely convinced. From what I had seen so far, the eternally stationed 17-year-old trainee scientist had been just as insane as Watari. Possibly even more so. And he seemed to be enjoying purposefully evading Terazuma's cure, just so he could laugh at the freak's reactions. It was kind of funny but still… it wasn't exactly a brilliant professional move for an apprentice to make. That sort of thing was best left to Watari, who could get away with pulling off stupid shit and still receive a decent pay check at the end of the week.

Cue bitter sigh.

Watari and I wrapped up our conversation and I placed my phone back in its charger. Together, they were about the most expensive things in my apartment. I looked around the cluttered living room, finding everything suddenly void and dull now that the voice on the other end had vacated the line. I was left to my regrettably previous and well entrenched state of mind. Here I was; ninety years of existence and at that moment I felt every single day of it. I was weary, my eyes stung, my throat burned and I was alone and lonely.

You wouldn't think it. I didn't find it difficult to bond with people, but here I was in my apartment on a Wednesday night. Half drunk and depressed. I found myself wondering what I was going to do with the rest of the night. Hell, screw the rest of the night, what was I supposed to do with the rest of my eternity? The prospect of future was like shifting sand between my fingers; no substance to grasp a hold of and secure with firm countenance and responsibility. It strayed through the gaps, fell away dissolved with the ever increasing mass beneath it until there was nothing left but stray remains.

Was I, Asato Tsuzuki, the remains of sand? Insubstantial, prospective future in the palm of some greater power? If so, I wished he would have given me a half-cocked decent answer to explain my greater purpose, because I had no idea what the fuck I was doing.

I was all alone.

I had been whittled down to nothing but the stray remains of prospect. My destiny was all beneath me and the future was nothing but bare, insatiable molecules that could only occupy the space of time for so long. Soon, every inch of me would have to be washed away.

But when? And how? How was I going to leave this existence?

Would I ever leave it?

Did I want to leave it?

… Did it matter what I wanted?

I knew one thing for certain. I wanted to cry again. For some reason, that very night I felt as though every single person I had ever loved could have done very well without me in the world. I was unnecessary. I could be easily replaced. I wasn't needed.

But then…

"You are different because you and I are the same. The same creatures, walking two different paths that either of us could have taken. I need you to teach me all that you have learnt by walking down that path, Mr. Tsuzuki. And I can teach you what I have learnt. Maybe that way, by coming together, we can be complete in a way we otherwise could not be."

I sat at the Kitchen island, sipping at my coffee until the bare undissolved dregs were left and I deposited the cup in the sink, to be cleaned up when I could be bothered. I made my way slowly into the bedroom, where I fished my pajamas out of the top drawer of my cabinet, pausing to touch the gifts that Pandora had bestowed upon me before his violent demise. The handkerchief and stuffed owl were propped in front of a framed picture of Hisoka and I in one of those photo booths you see around the shopping complexes. Every time I saw Hisoka, I was reminded of Pandora, owing to their uncanny appearances.

Feeling depressed enough as it was, I turned from the gifts, almost defiantly and went to have another shower, hoping it might help relax me. Muraki's words kept on swirling around and around in my head, like liquid in the cup of an overly contemplative person.

I had Muraki on the brain. I had Muraki Syndrome.

I wondered if that was cause enough for Euthanasia but I doubted my doctor would have been sympathetic. Considering that the Summons Sections doctor was Watari.

The shower felt great, to put it lightly. I began to feel as though the steam was carrying away my depression, forming condensations of tears along the glass surfaces. I brushed my teeth in the shower and stalled for other things to do, not wanting to get out even at the expense of the hot water. I washed my hair. I scrubbed myself down with shower gel that left me smelling like a pineapple. I shaved my armpits, legs and even did my face. It seemed strange to me that body hair kept on growing back, even though our bodies were in suspended animation of the way that we appeared before we died. (Obviously undamaged and not with huge gaping wounds in our heads or arms for that matter) I wasn't usually prone to growing an abundance of whiskers but due to my lackadaisical approach to just about everything in the past week, I had developed something of a five o'clock shadow, which alikened me to an old fashioned Dick in early television shows. (At least, I liked to think so) But since I needed something to do in the shower (that didn't sink so low as to indulge in anything dirty, thankyouverymuch) the five o'clock came off. I brushed my teeth a second time and then sat down in the shower stall and let the water pound against my back for a couple of minutes. I felt thoroughly at ease for the first time in a long time. I was practically sober once I stepped out of the (cooling) spray of water.

Feeling in the mood to be attentive towards myself, I went to work fixing up just about any tiny flaw I could find that I could do something about. I trimmed my fingernails and toenails and plucked my eyebrows. (Something I usually make Watari do, because he always manages to shape them just right. … The eyebrows, not my toenails. The man is a genius with a pair of tweezers. Almost matches my skill in the kitchen.) I rubbed some various moisturizing lotions into my skin and face, spraying on some body mist and running a calming leave in conditioner through my hair. (Though I was fighting a losing battle there. My hair never looked tidy. Not like Tatsumi's. I swear, the man must sticky tape it down or something before he leaves for work. Or maybe he uses superglue or mashed banana. Maybe even cement. It certainly doesn't look like any natural or man made force could shake it.) When I was thoroughly done being a complete meterosexual (and setting off every single gaydar in a twenty mile radius), I headed over to the washing basket, on which I had set my pajamas. I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror, hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

I stepped close to it, fanning my hand through the thin layer of condensation that had beaded across the glass and then stepped back to appraise myself.

"Do you desire it my friend? A perfect physical form…"

I'd never really stopped to consider just why Muraki and… certain others, thought my body to be anything special. I just wasn't one of those people who really thought these things through. But there, in my bathroom that night with the aftertaste of alcohol lingering throughout my senses, I took a moment to try and figure out just what it was that the accursed mixed blood flowing through my veins had given me. Was my body truly anything to be marveled at? Was it the 'perfect physical form' that Muraki had alluded to?

I considered, assessing my naked figure with a critical eye. My legs were long and shapely, my thighs taut and muscle tone rather definitive. It had always struck me as somewhat bizarre, considering that I had not been athletic during my life and the last eight years of it had been spent in hospital, where I wasn't exactly in the state to get out and run laps around the garden. Why on earth was my body maintained this way? During life, I hadn't seen much of the sun but the roof of the Sakura Zensen provided an ample vantage point in which not only myself, but various other residents could work on acquiring a bit of color. My tan was fairly even and on the areas that I kept covered, the darkened skin blended in rather nicely towards the veiled regions. I had wide, arched hips with indented sketches to outline my loins. Overall, my muscle structure was quite good. My stomach was flat and my pectorals and abdominals were well preserved. My fingers were long, hands were nicely shaped and my arms were firm. I didn't have very many body markings; one or two freckles here and there but no birthmarks or moles. No piercings, no tattoos, no body art of any persuasion. I reached back and cupped my hands around my buttocks, squeezing them roughly. They weren't nearly as prominent as Watari's but they were nicely rounded and very firm; somewhat perky and at the same time tight. I had very little pubic hair and though I had admittedly seen very little of other men's penises I knew that my own was quite substantial in comparison.

My face… well… I suppose that I was good looking. I possessed a nice jaw structure, and though not as pretty as Hisoka, my own features were attractive in more masculine way. My lips were not full but they weren't thin. My bottom lip was slightly larger than my top, something that I hadn't noticed before. I had a slight, straight nose and obedient ears, that didn't stray too far from the side of my head. There were no freckles or markings on my face. I had never suffered with acne as a teenager. There had been worse sufferings to concern myself with than spots.

My teeth were straight. The only damn problem I could find with my body, were my goddamned, hideous eyes. Purple… what a dumb eye color. Whoever thought of giving me purple eyes should have a pineapple shoved up their ass. A purple pineapple, now that would be irony for them.

I stood, gazing at my naked, slightly reddened body for what felt like hours. So… I had found the form that Muraki desired. That the Count was going to love with his real body, if I ever gave him half the chance. Yet, I saw nothing incredibly special regarding my appearance. I mean, sure I was nice looking but I'd definitely seen prettier. Hisoka was prettier. Muraki was far more beautiful than I could ever hope to be. What was so great about this body that housed me?

I guess one might say that it was the body of sin; a body made entirely for one purpose, a purpose that I had not yet fulfilled. It was a body designed for either one of two reasons; destruction or sex. It had the full potential of fulfilling each rationale. It could easily satisfy a man or woman and it could easily destroy.

But there was no compassion in any line or curve. It wasn't a body made to love. It was hard and carnal. Every edge was sharp… so sharp it could draw blood. Like the iris of a cat, it serenaded a deep contusion that punctured despair and life, the separated one half into two and left them in perpetual, eternal imbalance. This was the body that meant either and nothing.

I was sick of looking at myself.

I sighed, turning away from the mirror and grabbing my pajamas off of the basket and pulling them on. I was wearing a long pair of pants with puppy paw-prints on them and a raggy old tee that came down nearly to my knees. Once I was dressed I re-examined myself in the mirror and much preferred the vision I saw staring back. With my dripping hair and somewhat compromised attire I looked a total dork. And that was the side of me that people liked. It was the side of me that I liked. Sweet and humorous and normal. Not a monster…

Yawning, I snapped on the watch that Muraki had bought for me, tossed the wet towel into the clothesbasket and stepped out of the bathroom, switching off the light as I left. My pajama pants were too long and I was forced to kick them out of the way of my feet as I headed back into the lounge room, where I intended to make myself a cup of hot chocolate and watch some mindless television show for an hour or so. It was the best way to spend the residual dragging time before bed.

I was almost frightened of sitting down, of halting my progress. I knew that as soon as I allowed myself the privilege of relaxing, my thoughts would start to wander again and I would soon unearth something else to feel depressed about.

I had just fished the chocolate mix out of the cupboard above the sink when the doorbell rang. Placing the canister on the bench, I shuffled over to the door and stooped, in order to align my eye with the peephole.

I didn't see anyone out there.

"Hmm? Well that's strange…" I said aloud, stepping back away from the door and rubbing my chin. "Doorbells don't just ring on their own… well… at least mine doesn't. Oh! Maybe someone left something by the door, like a delivery guy and just couldn't be fucked waiting for me to answer! I'll bet that's it!"

Thrilled by my pithy insight, I drew the chain latch out and swung the door inwards, gazing down at the floor as I did.

Sure enough, there was something sitting there, waiting for me.

A very long stemmed, very thorny and spiteful looking rose. Still mostly curled up in a defensive bulb but beautifully maintained none the less. I stared down at it, feeling a lump rise and fall in my throat.

"This… never precedes anything good…" I said, bending down to retrieve the flower, knowing full well who had left it there. "Still, no note no nothing. Nice of him to just drop the damn thing and-''

"For you to say something so cold Mr. Tsuzuki," A very familiar voice intoned humorously from my near left. I straightened up, rose in hand to see Muraki leaning against the wall just next to my door, eyes shut and shaking his head whilst wearing the slightest of smiles. "I'm hurt, that you would think I'd go to all the trouble to find out where it is that you live, only to leave a present at your door without expending even the preliminaries of decency?" He opened his visible eye, turning his face so that I could see his brow rise in a show of faux indignation. "Now, now… I may be a resigned murderer but no one has ever yet accused me of taking leave of my manners."

I gritted my teeth, squeezing the rose stem a little too hard and feeling the thorns penetrate deeply into my hand. I had never been particularly fond of roses. I always thought that they were spiteful, angry flowers with way too many defenses against the helpful green thumb.

"Muraki! How on earth did you find where I-?"

"The same way that I found your mobile phone number." He established simply, stepping around me and entering the apartment with flourish. "Though, I must admit as a result of my vow to you, I have had no choice recently but to release all of the creatures in my service. I simply do not have enough power to bind them effectually to me for any longer. Terribly tiresome but… it's a worthy sacrifice."

"No one said that you could come in…" I muttered, trying to conceal a blush by hiding behind the rose. There was no point in saying anything though, as Muraki was only likely to ignore me anyway. I sighed heavily, shutting the door and latching it firmly, hoping that no one I knew would be dropping by whilst Muraki was here. That would have made the situation ten times more uncomfortable than it needed to be. "So… back from Saiki clearly. How was your trip?"

It felt weird making small talk with the man that I had hated for so long. What felt even weirder however, was the fact that I was feeling… moderately better in his presence. Trying not to let any of this show, I moved back into the kitchen, searching through the cupboard for a mug.

Muraki looked over at me and smiled genuinely. I had to admit, he was looking good. His hair had grown a little longer, which made him look younger. He was wearing his usual white suit and trenchcoat combination, the latter of which he had folded up neatly and placed on one of my armchairs. After a moment or so, his jacket joined it and Muraki was left slightly less constricted in his dull gray shirt, loosening the knot in his tie slightly so that it resembled immaculately how I wore my own to work. I suddenly remembered what it was that I was wearing and I felt my cheeks go red.

"It was fine, thankyou." He said, in response to my question. "I was checking up on a patient of mine that came to Tokyo about a year or so back. A woman in her early forties, she suffered an aneurysm and I operated on her personally."

"There weren't any complications were there? She didn't have a relapse, did she?" I asked worriedly. I knew that despite Muraki's unfavorable outside pursuits, he was a fine physician. One of the best in Japan. But still… even doctors could make mistakes. I had my suspicions that the unpreventable death of patients had been what had broken Muraki initially. But of course, that was merely postulation, nothing more.

Muraki glanced over from one of my wall paintings that he had been examining and chuckled. "There is nothing to concern yourself over Mr. Tsuzuki. In fact, she was in better health than I was. I stayed in a hotel where the conditions were less then hospitable. I have a terribly allergy to a particular cleaning agent, and of course it happened to be the one that the maid scoured my room with. I sneezed so often that it was any wonder my organs didn't vacate my body through my nose."

"You know, they say that if you sneeze four times in a row, you can experience a mild orgasm!" I exclaimed and then immediately went bright red and tried to hunch my face down between my shoulders. Why the hell I had burst out with that particular bit of trivia was beyond me. "I mean… uh… do you… fancy something to drink? I think I have some tea around here somewhere…"

"Please." Muraki said, moving out of the lounge area and stepping up to the kitchen. He watched me for a while, his intensity making for a comfortable atmosphere. That was sarcasm of course. I had felt more at ease in front of a raging Tatsumi, brandishing another bill in my face. The silence extended for as long as we both could handle it and I finally punctured it.

"So, you gonna explain what you're doing here?" I asked without looking at him.

Muraki seemed surprised. "Is it a problem that I visit my lover?"

Cue blush.

"Don't be so presumptuous. You can't refer to me as your lover when we haven't even been to bed together. And besides… that statement seems to imply that you and are in something of a relationship. That ain't what this is. We have a… business arrangement, nothing more."

I found a small vase and filled it up with water, sliding the rose into it so that the poor thing would get at least a few days more life before it inevitably withered up and died.

"I'm hurt." Muraki said. He didn't sound the least bit hurt.

"Oh. Well poor baby." I said sarcastically, fossicking about in the cupboard nearest to him for the teabags. He came around the kitchen island and I felt his hands slide around my waist and draw me back against his body. I struggled to get out of his hold. "Don't touch me." I hissed, scowling at his serenely content face as he wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my shoulder and the side of my face. "You think I've forgotten what happened one week ago? I know I'm not the brightest bulb around, Muraki, but I have a damned long memory. It'll be a while before I forget the indignation I suffered that night."

"I don't understand, my love." He said, withdrawing his arms from my midsection but setting his hands atop my shoulders instead, turning me around to face him. He was still smiling. Still enjoying the situation. "It was I who refuted you. I that prevented you from feeling even more humiliated by your actions later. I apologized. Most profusely. I don't understand how I am at fault for any of this."

I opened my mouth and then snapped it shut again, having nothing to say in retaliation. He was right of course. Muraki could always outsmart me no matter how hard I tried. I was only behaving so coldly now because I was disgusted with how I was feeling.

The fact that I was no longer depressed.

Why?

"Never mind…" I grumbled, trying to shuck my shoulders out of his grasp. He held on tight however, his smile not fading one iota.

"Do I not at least warrant a 'Welcome home' kiss from my beloved?" He asked gently, his thumb rotating across my shoulder blade. I felt stupid standing in front of him in my childish looking pajamas. I wondered if he had even given them a second thought. … But then again, Muraki only ever saw me naked so why was I concerning myself with what I was that I was wearing? He would only look right through them.

"I don't think so." I snapped, trying to deny to myself more than anyone that a kiss would have felt great at that moment. And Muraki was such a good kisser too…

His fingers tightened around my shoulders and his smile only faded slightly. I could see his false eye shining from behind the longer wave of silver hair that cascaded articulately down over the right side of his perfectly sculptured face.

"Are you sure about that?" He asked, in a tone of voice that I had come to interpret as; 'You'd-better-do-as-I-say-or-else-I'm-gonna-go-and-instigate-a-few-mass-genocides'. I don't think anyone realizes just how tough it is to be the nice guy, being jerked around on the blackmailing strings toted by puppet master slash murderer Dr. Satan Kazutaka. Muraki.

Regrettably again, I almost felt relieved that Muraki could force me into obeying him, in a sense. It gave me an excuse, a reason to not feel as though I were the biggest dirt bag and a rotten Judas for doing this with the man who was responsible for… for Hisoka…

Was I only using Hisoka as an excuse? A reason not to act on my feelings?

Ignoring this thought as soon as it appeared, I heaved another very deep sigh and leaned forward, contrary to Muraki's grip. I felt his hands relax and slide around my body, wrapping me up as no one ever had before, as I had only ever seen other people being held and our entire bodies fell into complete and utter alignment, our mouths meeting softly, tongues broaching contact hesitantly. I knew then, that Muraki was completely aware of my internal struggles and my contrary thoughts to my words. It scared me more than anything. I could easily admit to desiring Muraki on a physical level but requiring him on an emotional level… that was a whole new dimension of betrayal.

It was hard to deny, inexperienced though I was, that the feeling of being in his arms and kissing him after one week of positively no intimacy with anyone else was worth so much. My depression, the remnants of my drunken state rose as we touched. I felt as though a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, as though a part of me was sighing in relief at the return of Muraki's presence.

It was a surreal, terrifying moment.

I had my arms around his neck my eyes were closed as I kissed him, my fingers delicately rubbing the longer strands off silver hair that trailed across the back of his neck, twirling them about my nails and admiring the soft texture. He smelt so good… and his body was so strong and warm… For some reason, I thought of sinking into him and disappearing though his body, to a safe, untouchable place where he would be on all sides of me.

Such intimate, disturbing thoughts… and I couldn't rid myself of them.

When the kiss ended, Muraki didn't laugh at me or say 'Told you so!' in a snide voice. He just smiled again. But this time, the smile was real.

"I missed you too," He said, running his fingernail over my reddened cheek and leaning down to press his lips against the lobe of my ear. "Darling."

Unknown

If anyone had cared to observe the skyline that evening, they might have noticed something rather peculiar…

"Whoa Tatchomu."

The eight-legged horse, its coat the velvety blue hue of the night sky, reared back slightly in response to the tight tugging on the metal bit against the soft sides of its mouth. White foam flecked outward from the rubbery lips, steam erupting from both its nostrils, chiseled hooves lapping delicately at the misty remains of clouds upon which he had been carrying his riders.

Bright yellow eyes, devoid of pupil, focused on the slumped figure of the second rider, splayed over the rump of the great steed.

"Whatever is the matter, Mara?" Thin lips twisted into a sympathetic grimace and long fingers reached back to stray through tussled blood red strands of hair. "Oh… my poor darling. Feeling a bit seedy, are we?"

The larger bodied male managed to straighten up, the transition slow and awkward, one hand still cupped over the pale, slightly green face.

"It's… it's that perfume of yours…" He grumbled, trying without much success to cover a sneeze with a cough. The red-haired creature scowled, the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers. "It stinks… Prince, is it really necessary?"

The one called Prince, the creature of feminine proportions, was busy applying makeup whilst staring into a small handheld mirror.

"Well, of course…" It said, as though the alternative of not applying the evidently foul smelling perfume was ludicrous. "The application enhances my powers. Hello! I wish to be at my most impressive tonight… What if I were to run into that one? I'd wanna put up a good show, right?" He added succinctly, winking over his shoulder at the pinched expression of his companion.

The red-haired passenger leant his torso forward, gazing over the great head of Tatchomu in order to take in the expanse of the lights of the city beneath them.

"So… The Ancient Capital… Blondie's home town…"

The rider smiled, an eager, devilish smirk as a bright sheen cast over its yellow pupil-less eyes.

"Yes."

"Guess I'll be heading to Tokyo then…" The other deduced, stretching his arms up so that the joints cracked roughly. "To where… he was born."

The slender 'Prince' cocked its head sidelong and regarded the redhead with a baiting smile. Its bleached blond hair drifted listlessly in the cool night breeze.

"Don't wimp out, Petal. I don't think Mitkiel will tolerate another disappointment."

"Balban's actions were rash… irresponsible…" The redheaded one commented, patting the side of the horse distractedly. "Pandora really wasn't left with much of a choice… But… still…"

"No point in mourning what's come and gone. What's done is done. Take what you can learn from it and move on." The Prince said uncaringly, making a sweeping gesture with its hand. "In any event, Pandora will not be interrupting again. We'll both have a good chance to settle the score tonight. Maybe learn a thing or two in the process. So… heed my words. No flaking, ne?" The creature smiled charmingly, pressing the tip of one finger against its lower eyelid, pulling it down and winking as it stuck its tongue out.

The red haired one appeared hurt. "You're the only thing that presently occupies my mind. How could I possibly concern myself with impertinent notions of my possible proximity with danger?"

Apathy was drawn across the slender creature's face as it run the sharp tip of black eyeliner along its lower eyelids.

"Yes, yes, I'm well aware, darl. 'You couldn't live without me,' and all that nonsense, blah, blah, blah…" It snapped the mirror shut dramatically, tucked it into the saddles pouch and then in a surprise move, leant back against the others chest, one hand cupping his chin, nails stroking the red-heads cheek. "My love… surely you are not doubting my abilities? …How insulting, to think the one that loves me would doubt my reputation." It actually laughed at the quavering look on its companions face. "How pathetic… I don't give you a reason to cry, so you'll seek one out just so you can find something to cry about."

"Whenever we are separated by our obligations, it is difficult not to cry," The red-haired one said, twining his arms about the slim waist of the rider and squeezing their bodies tightly together. "Of course I search for any and every reason to cry for you. You're my fiancée. Who else would I cry for? There is none other, in either Heaven nor Hell, nor Hades nor Earth…"

As though transcending from above, a great pair of blood stained wings appeared from the arches of the redheads' shoulder blades, arching down majestically in order to shield the slender entity within his hold. The blond shut its eyes, resting its head against the wall of its companions' chest.

"It's sweet that you can only live for me and for me alone, my darling." At this prompting, they shared a deep, closed mouth kiss, containing all the chaste innocence of virgins, though they were certainly not. "However…" Now, the Prince slapped away the hands that held it dear and pushed back the mighty wings in order to regain hold of Tatchomu's reigns. "… don't let that make a crybaby out of you." It winked teasingly and then tossed its hair haughtily, surveying the night that was laid out before them like a fey woman on her wedding night. "Oh… I am so looking forward to tonight. At last, the years of blood abstinence shall be repaid to me in full… What glorious anticipation… it makes me want to… stretch out and soak it all up like the rays of the sun we have long since been denied…"

The slim creature stretched its body out drastically, displaying confidently the wide part of skin bared from the hem of the crop top, down to the waist band of the tight mini-skirt, sanctioned around an arched waist. It crooned, feeling that which it had wanted; the hands of its fiancée, running treacherously down its body and ending on either side of its flat, well sculptured buttocks. A smile teased across its lips, a thin pink tongue caressing the very corner as still somewhat virginal lips pressed to the center of its back.

"There is nothing to fear, my Petal." It promised, one hand fisting in the tufts of Tatchomu's mane. "For I am the one that Hell itself fears. Those that fail to bow to me, are the foundation of my blade."

Below, Kyoto waited.

Authors note: Part 2 will be up as soon as it is betta-ed. Reviewer reviews will appear at the end of part 4, for those of you wondering where it is. Would still appreciate reviews for this part though... (Nervous sweatdrop) Have been working hard every night since exam finished to try and get this to you guys... Please reward me! Hope you enjoyed part 1 everyone!