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

17. Cutthroat Eurynomous: Part 3

Dark Adaptation

Disclaimer: Descendants of Darkness; Alias: Yami no Matsuei does not belong to me, blah blah blah, Am not benefiting financially from writing fanfiction about it, blahdie, blahdie blah, claim no ownership over any of the main characters only the ones that do in fact belong to me, bloodie, blahdie bloo, crap, crap, crap, yadie, yada, ya, pink hamsters, you know the drill.

A/N: Welcome to Part 3 of Cutthroat Eurynomous! Whoa… a lot of work has sure gone into these past couple of additions! Unfortunately, from hence forth, reviewer reviews will be no longer appearing in Dark Adaptation. But only because the chapters are so long and the reviewer reviews were taking up more room than the actual chapter content. Hence, I have decided to scrap them. Not for any other reason, however. I would love to keep doing them and plan to do something similar once the website is up. Rather it will be an Ask Characters section. So sorry everyone that liked the reviewer reviews but that's the way it's got to be, I'm afraid. On that note, I'm getting rid of the reviewer reviews on earlier chapters also, so if you still really want to read them, I'll ask that you email me and I'll send you a copy because I'll be keeping them all. My apologies.

Watari: Wha? No more reviewer reviews? (Looks sad) Awww… but I loved doing those so much!

Tsuzuki: Me too! No more cuddles from the reviewers! … On the bright side, no more creepy molestation requests either!

Muraki: They did take up an awfully large amount of room, so I suppose it can't be helped. It is kind of sad to see them go…

Oriya: Not that it's going to stop NaPap writing us in like this, huh?

Watari: Well, we hope you enjoy the new chapter readers! And to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, thank you so, so much! You know we love you, but we unfortunately just don't have the room to thank you all!

NaPap: And extra especially, thankyou to everyone who wrote such kind words of comfort for me following the death of my little doggy, Gizmo. You're thoughtfulness helped me through that rough and emotional time and I'm so grateful. I wish I could thank you all individually but it just isn't possible. Just know that I really appreciate it. With that being said, maybe an update can express my gratitude! Enjoy everyone! And as usual, thanks for betta-ring for me Olive-chan! And regards to Jewell for all her email reviews! Love you guys!

Oriya

The wisp of blue death wound its way through the ice-choked woodland path, mixing with the ribbon of mist that caressed the dripping trees with icy fingers. Saki Shidou leant the back of his head upon the trunk of the tree he had been lounging against, his mousy brown hair flecked with droplets of water. He was rugged up tightly against the cold, a thick insulated jacket, black jeans and knee length lace up boots. He inhaled deeply on the cigarette between his lips, causing the orange ember to throw a circle of dim light across his pale but attractive face. The second hand on his watch drummed its fingers impatiently across the numbers.

"Early morning,

Mist rising

Wake me in the spring"

Saki dipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved the small notepad he kept there for such occasions as this. No one could tell when inspiration was about to strike and luck certainly favored the prepared. He whipped a pen out of his other pocket and quickly scribbled down the haiku he had composed, purely on whim. No one was likely to be impressed by such things but Saki had made it a habit to keep records of his more creative moments, no matter how pointless it may have seemed to other people.

When he had put both the notepad and the pen away, only then did he become aware of the presence that had joined him in the deserted stretch of woods. A hand came from behind the tree of which he had taken momentary recluse against and seized the cigarette from between his lips. Two fingers held the small cylinder of death out before his face as though making sure that he could not possibly have missed it.

"Your father would have a fit if he caught you smoking, you know."

Saki chuckled as the hand withdrew taking the cigarette with it. "Give me a break, Senpai. Like you don't nick fags out of your father's desk every chance you get."

"That's none of your business." The voice replied in a curt tone colder than the air that carried it. Saki heard the crackle of burning paper and nicotine and then a funnel of smoke passed by his slightly flushed cheek, evaporating into the vapors of the forest. "Your parents trust me to watch out for you and Kazutaka. I don't want your Papa thinking I'm not doing my bit."

The dark-haired boy stepped out from behind the tree, shoulder length hair tied back in a high ponytail. He was wearing a thick green jacket, dark blue pants and brown hiking boots. A navy scarf was bound around his neck, hands guarded against the cold by a pair of black suede gloves. Oriya Mibu drew deeply on the cigarette and then extinguished the ember on the trunk of the aforementioned tree. Instead of throwing the butt on the ground, he fished a tissue out of his pocket and bundled the expired cigarette within the white folds of soft paper, shoving it back into the depths of his trousers. His narrow eyes glared reproachfully at the fifteen-year-old boy before finally expelling the cigarette smoke from his lungs. Saki smiled pretentiously as the gray web hit the air, his expression slightly warped from behind the wall of death.

A branch cracked underfoot and both boys looked over to see Kazutaka Muraki stumbling awkwardly towards them through the line of trees, rugged up to the chin; the sign of an overprotective mother. The silence of the woods allowed his audible curses to be amplified quite satisfactorily.

"Couldn't we have come here later in the day when it wasn't so damned cold?" He grumbled, stumbling over an upraised tree root and nearly falling flat on his face. "Everything's covered in ice! What if we trip going along that path? We could end up breaking our necks!"

"Geez… you really are hopeless aren't you, little brother?" Saki said, grinning broadly, both hands raised in a sort of exaggerated shrug. "I don't know about you but I think it was worth getting up this early to see the forest shrine. I'm not going to let a little ice and cold stand between us, ne Senpai?"

Oriya was standing slightly off to the side, hands wedged determinedly into his pockets, eyes on something far in the distance that no one else probably had a hope in hell of seeing. He looked up at Saki's voice and gave a non-committal shrug of his shoulders.

"I don't see what the hell's so great about this goddamn shrine in the first place." said Kazutaka, sniffing in resistance against an oncoming cold. The boy was prone to swearing a little over excessively in order to compensate for the helplessness he felt within his family unit, particularly in regards to his over-obsessive mother. Saki frowned over his shoulder.

"Little brother, do not take the good Lord's name in vain." He scolded shaking a finger. "But, to answer your question, this shrine was built to commemorate the god of fertility. They say if you visit there and offer a prayer, your chances of meeting your soul mate increase greatly!"

"But… what if you don't have a soul like Oriya?" Kazutaka teased, smiling at the older boy who was unwrapping a stick of gum. Oriya merely made a rude hand gesture as he chewed away at the mint-scented mouth occupation.

Saki made a sort of 'meh' noise as he withdrew the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, ('With Class' inscribed upon the label) tugged one out with his teeth, offering one of the remaining sticks to his younger half brother. Oriya looked on disapprovingly as Kazutaka accepted.

"Oh, don't go giving him evils." Saki said, lighting up his cigarette and then leaning over so that Kazutaka could press the tip of his own cylinder to the burning ember. Smoke was soon swirling around their faces. "It will do more for that cold of his than all those layers will."

"Besides… you smoke, too, don't you, Oriya?" Kazutaka shot back, emboldened now that he had been included in his older half brothers deviances. Oriya's expression grew darker.

"I don't care much for cigarettes." He said simply, turning toward the thin winding path that trailed a line into the woods at a slightly upward degree. "In any event, we should set out for the temple now. That way we can be back at the motel by lunch time."

The other two boys nodded and the three of them set off along the path, Oriya in the lead, his reflexes being highly advanced he would be able to recover if indeed the trail proved dangerous to traverse. Kazutaka, being the physically weakest, was shepherded by Saki, both drawing on their cigarette's so deeply it was a wonder the smoke ever resurfaced.

The quiet pace was uncomfortable because Kazutaka could tell Oriya was disappointed with them, particularly him. He still didn't know Saki very well, the other boy had only moved in with his family four months ago. He had seen him around at his middle school but his past before then was pretty much a mystery. What was clear, however was the their father, Yeryuto Muraki, had wanted nothing to do with his bastard son until he had no other choice but to involve himself. Since Oriya was giving them the silent treatment, Kazutaka took this as the perfect chance to find out a little more about his reluctant sibling.

"You know… it's a shame Ukyou couldn't join us." Saki suddenly avowed, taking a deep drag of his cigarette and expelling the fumes outward so that they drafted back into his face. He brushed the cloud out of the way, as though it were nothing more than an irritating swarm of insects. "She loves examining old temples, things like that. Gets a kick out of it. She was real beat when her folks made her stay back instead."

"You would bring a delicate rose like Ukyou out to a place like this? Just so she could freeze in the snow?" Oriya's deep voice wafted back from the figure preceding them. "And I always took you to be a nice guy, too…"

Saki waved his free hand dismissively. "Who says I'm not, Oriya-senpai? Come on give a guy some credit. He's not a bastard for wanting to spend some romantic time with his girlfriend is he? Shame about you two knuckling in, but, hey… not much you can do about your family, eh?"

Kazutaka tried to ignore the distinct kick of jealousy he felt serenading the depths of his stomach and forced a smile as they rounded a curve in the path. It wasn't that he particularly liked Ukyou that way himself… they had grown up together, so she was more like a sister rather than a prospective love interest. But… he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed that Saki, who had only known her for a couple of months, could waltz in so easily and take up a place in her heart that was just that tiny bit closer than Kazutaka knew he was ever likely to reach for obvious reasons.

"You and Ukyou seem to be going steady. Three months so far…"

"You realize the consequences of breaking that girl's heart, I hope." Oriya said warningly from somewhere up ahead. Saki emitted a fake shiver and hid behind Kazutaka in the most exaggerated fashion possible.

"Scary Senpai's gonna kick my butt!" He fake sobbed, emitting even the smallest smile from the usually emotionally docile child of the moon. "Oh, Senpai… please don't kill me… Everyone makes mistakes! You know I wouldn't hurt Ukyou on purpose."

Oriya glanced over his shoulder to shoot the other boy a very condescending stare and then returned his watchful eyes to the path ahead.

"If I recall correctly, Saki, your last 'mistake' was that you cheated on your girlfriend with another guy… is this a-ringing any bells?"

"Ah… a few…" Saki chuckled, having the decency to look at least slightly ashamed of himself. Muraki, however, was all frowns.

"Saki! You know that sort of behaviour is a sin! You can't be with other men! It goes against nature."

Saki looked momentarily startled. "So they say in the Bible, I suppose… but that's not what I was born and raised on. I just go with my gut instinct, Kazu. And on that note, the little campy kettle shouldn't be calling the little poofy pot black either. If I recall correctly, isn't it YOU oh wee little brother o' mine, that keeps a picture of some guy he's never met in the drawer beside his bed? Or do you sleep with it under your pillow and kiss it goodnight before you fit your little head into the world of dreams?"

Kazutaka's embarrassment was palpable. "That… how… You promised that was just between us! How could you bring that up against me?"

Saki shrugged. "What choice did I have when you were leveling that two-faced religious tirade at me? I'm not sayin' there's anything wrong with it; so don't go getting all weepy on me. Your tears would freeze." He balked, realizing that Kazutaka was indeed on the verge of crying, most likely out of embarrassment and frustration. "Aw Hell… sorry, but it really ain't no big deal! Oriya ain't gonna tell anyone! Besides… he's bi-curious himself, don't you know?"

Oriya's voice was completely deadpan. "You have no proof to support that statement, so I suggest shutting your mouth until you can back up your accusations."

"Oh, trust me… he's got the hots for an older man." Saki whispered, nudging Kazutaka in the ribs with his elbow. It was enough to return the wedge between their members once more and the two half-brothers could only laugh as Oriya stomped crankily on ahead, trying to hide his reddening face beneath his scarf and nearly smothering himself as a result.

Saki urged Kazutaka on, their arms linked together and both still chuckling from their success at getting one over their senior.

"Listen kid, don't ever let anyone tell ya that it's wrong to want someone that you care about, no matter who they are." The elder half-brother stated, fixing Kazutaka with his intense icy blue stare. His small pupils demanded complete uninhibited attention. "My Papa… obviously he wasn't my real father but he was a substitute until Da came and picked me up, he always said that it shouldn't matter the what, who, why or how of the person. If you love them, the rest comes naturally and you tell anyone who tells you otherwise to stick it. It's the only path to bein' happy. And just so you know, I believe in God perhaps more so than any one of you and in so saying, I believe in his love of us. God is a wonderful, benign perfect creature, beyond hating us for what we might deem sins. He will accept us when time elapses and when he asks you to tell him who you loved in this world, tell him proudly and I guarantee you, that there will be no punishment done unto you for the sin of making someone happy with that love. God would never do that. He is beyond such petty grievances. They are reserved for humans and humans alone. You understand, Kazu?"

Kazutaka nodded, suddenly feeling better about the photograph he had found in his Grandfather's possessions, the picture of the beautiful brunette that enraptured his heart and made him feel safe at night. Saki was right. How could God hate such him for such thoughts, when all they did was make him happy? Even if Saki was difficult to put up with sometimes, at least he could confide in him about these sorts of things and find a level of understanding that he was unable to obtain from anyone else.

"Say, Saki… what was your life like before you came to live with us? You know… your childhood?"

Saki mused on this for a moment, humming around the burning cigarette thoughtfully. "You're still anxious to know more?"

"Well, of course, I am! From what you have told me, it sounds as though you had it good. Who did you live with again? Your mother, wasn't it?"

Once again, Saki took his time answering. Though he wasn't obvious about it, it was clear that he found the subject uncomfortable. Kazutaka almost regretted bringing it up in the first place, wanting nothing more than to get along with his sibling without abrasive conflict. But more than that he wanted to know about him.

"Well…" the boy began, his voice dragging as though weighed down with much reluctance. "For the first couple of years of m'life, I lived with my mother, yes. The very patient that our father cheated on your mother with." He said this bit a little fiercely as though he was hoping to purposefully hurt his younger brother. Kazutaka felt the sting as intended but tried not to let it show. Saki, awaiting a reaction and getting none, withdrew the cigarette and held it between two fingers, regarding it as though it were the most fascinating thing. "My mother didn't have a partner but she had a close male friend who would visit regularly. I thought of him as my father even though we didn't share so much as a drop of DNA. It may have been as untrue as this family is but I was happy."

"What happened?" Kazutaka asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

"… An accident…" The boy said so softly it had all the density of the mist surrounding them. "An accident took them all away from me. I ended up at an orphanage for a couple of years, until the folks there were able to get in contact with my blood father. And our old man finally saw he had no choice. Wanted to do the right thing, I guess." For a moment he looked angry and bit his lip until it just about bled. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone and Saki was smiling, ruffling the silver hair of his sibling. "Still, I gained a brother out of it. When God closes a door, he opens a window, doesn't he?"

He laughed and moved a little further up the path, head lowered in perfect mock emulation of Oriya. Meanwhile Kazutaka was wrestling with what he had found out and was disappointed to find that it did not concur with his suspicions. It offered no explanation of Saki's behavior. He came to a dead stop on the path; gloved hands clenched into tight fists and face utterly sallow and despondent. The path had emerged over an open precipice; below them was at least a twenty foot drop crowned by a threadbare of sharp, ice encrusted rocks. The drop itself was angled downward, not a direct fall but it was still deep enough to fill Kazutaka with a deep feeling of vertigo.

"I don't want you doing it anymore."

Saki ground to a halt and turned around, his expression confused. Oriya also paused in his momentum but didn't turn.

"Doing what anymore, little brother?" Saki asked carefully but fell back stunned as Kazutaka started to scream at him. His usually serene and docile face was pinched in anger; his eyes clenched shut.

"I know what you've been doing and I don't need your sympathy!" He barked, flinging his arm outward as though this would propel the words faster towards his brother. "Keep the money for yourself. If you're going to send yourself to Hell then that's your own business but I have no need of money you've earned by committing an act of treachery against God!"

Oriya finally turned around. "What on earth is he talking about?"

Saki was livid. "Never you mind, Senpai. Kazutaka, where is this coming from? What makes you think that I would-"

"I SAW YOU!" Kazutaka screamed. "I saw what you did! I don't want your pity! I don't want you doing that just because you feel sorry for me!"

Saki moved closer, trying to keep their conversation veiled from Oriya which was really rather pointless. The boy had ears like a fox. He rarely missed anything.

"It's only to keep her drug prescriptions updated, so she won't feel compelled to… well, you know, of course. I can still see those horrid marks where last that awful woman 'repaired' you. As long as she's medicated, she's docile."

"A-Awful… w-woman?" The words scratched out of Kazutaka's mouth as though he found them impossible to believe. Before he had even registered what he was doing, he'd lashed out and punched Saki hard across the mouth. A great pressure seemed to lift from his shoulders once the strike had found its mark. It felt so right. The wet but hot blood that spurted from the other boys split lip, lapping across the ridges of his fingers. The way Saki's head snapped roughly to the side, expression aghast. Totally unsuspecting. It was… perfect. "Don't you DARE speak about my mother that way you, you stupid… you evil bastard!"

"Don't you hit me, you little brat!" Saki had recovered more quickly than Kazutaka had suspected and he slapped the silver haired boy across the mouth. Kazutaka stumbled back from the burning throb and then with a violent retch of sound, hurled himself at his half-brother, arms crossed over his chest and pushing at him with his elbows, trying to get at his face. Saki shoved him back easily, wrapping his left arm around the younger boys head and throwing him backwards against the frozen ground. The fall was jarring and Kazutaka winced as pain lanced through his tailbone. With revenge sparking deviant thoughts, he scrambled for the cigarette that he had dropped in their scruffle and then caught Saki around the ankle with his opposite hand, driving the still burning ember into the pant leg. The fabric of his trousers mostly protected the skin but Saki must have felt the burn because he cried out in pain. His hand darted down and snared Kazutaka by the collar of his jacket, jerking him roughly to his feet.

"You little shit! Don't you get it yet? I did this for you and you appreciate NONE of it! You ungrateful-" His fist smacked hard into the younger boy's face, smashing his lips wide open and very nearly knocking a few teeth out. Kazutaka felt hot blood run down the back of his throat but it didn't feel bad at all. To the contrary, it felt good and he swallowed it eagerly. The rest he spat out into Saki's face and used the distraction to grind his fist as hard as he could into the other boys solar plexus. They were grappling on the edge of the path, the icy earth slipping beneath their feet.

"I don't want you pitying me! There's nothing wrong with me! She says so, over and over again! I don't need you pitying us! You don't know anything about us! You're not one of us no matter what you might think!"

"Stop it you two! That's enough!" Oriya had appeared at their side, attempting to jam his strong arms between the quarreling boys. They were drawing dangerously close to the precipice, hence his final intervention. "Kazutaka, calm down. Your smart mouth isn't helping matters! Saki, get a grip! Let go of his head before you pop his eyeballs out like Chiclets!"

Saki and Kazutaka continued to struggle, lost to the rush of adrenaline, the anger and the old decaying regrets that both nursed in such abundance that until now had no outlet. They upended their pain upon each other, in one ridiculous argument over what would seem later as such a worthless exhibition.

"Enough!" Oriya yelled and his voice held an edge of panic. His heels had been pushed to the edge of the path in their struggle. "Stop it! Stop it now! ENOUGH!"

It wasn't clear which boy had decided to make Oriya the first victim in the Muraki reign of blood. But in that split second where frustration and fury overruled all other thoughts of sensibility, one of those boys came close to ending his life. Which hand shoved him is still unknown. Kazutaka would later swear it was Saki. Saki would swear that it was Kazutaka. Then both would swear by the other and attempt to take the blame upon themselves to spare their half-brother the pain that the next few months of guilt and gradual decline into insanity would afford them.

In any case, both boys bypassed that anger and whatever brief thoughts of murder they had entertained when Oriya's center of gravity tilted. The icy ground held no grip on him and that one push was enough to throw him over the edge and out of sight.

Once he was falling, not even his phenomenal reflexes could save him. At first he plummeted only three feet and rolled down the rocky decline, his hands scrabbling desperately for some foothold that might save him. Searching but finding none. The decline cut off dramatically into the cliff face and Oriya's left foot caught between a small outcrop of rocks. Resistance to gravity lasted barely three seconds before it regained complete dominance and snapped Oriya brutally down, paying little to no attention to his snared foot. There was a sickening snap and before the pain even hit him, Oriya knew his ankle was broken. The leg, rendered useless slid through the rocks like silk and Oriya tumbled down at least ten feet. There weren't many choices in that sort of situation and he knew the only slim hope he had of surviving the fall was landing on his feet, which would certainly break his legs but possibly spare his neck. His back could also break but it was the only chance he had. Unfortunately, it was not even footing upon which he landed. It was another decline and all the weight gravity had thoughtfully divested upon him collapsed into his already broken ankle, twisting his knee out of socket, snapping both the bone there and according to X-rays taken later, wrenching the bone out of his hip and fracturing his leg in three additional places. Oriya was already deep in shock, too paralyzed by fear even to scream. He was sure he was going to die. Positive in fact. His limp body rolled down the unforgiving hill and it eventually evened out only to drop directly down into the valley floor, cushioned by even more rocks. As though Oriya hadn't had enough of them already. He could see the sky above him, blotted with clouds, smudged by dark gray around the edges. It felt almost as though he had fallen from Heaven. 'This is what it must feel like to be damned,' he remembered thinking at one point. 'When God threw the deviant angels out of Heaven, did it seem to them as though they fell forever? Did they cry as they fell like I'm doing now? Were they afraid of dying?'

Oriya Mibu did not want to die.

Oriya Mibu did not want to be made a victim of such stupid circumstances.

But though he did not die that day, something else died in his place. Something just as priceless as life itself. The loss of something so precious that he would indeed wander through the next sixteen years of his existence as a ghost. A shade of the person who he once was. The remnants of the man he could have been.

When his fall from Heaven ended, Oriya collapsed into the valley floor of his Hell, a broken angel. This final descent sealed his fate with a wax emblem, inscribed with the Muraki family crest; the one's who had thrown him from Heaven and damned him to purgatory. His spine had shattered upon impact with the ground. Darkness meandered in and took gradual accommodation of his senses. There was pain but it was a pain so far beyond anything his threshold was capable of handling, Oriya felt barely anything at all. And as far as he was concerned, he had died that day, minutes away from the shrine which would have drawn him that much closer to ensuring the eventual unification with his soul mate.

Kazutaka and Saki were both frozen in shock. They stared over the embankment and when they caught sight of their friends' lifeless body, Kazutaka started to scream and cry in equal measure.

"ORIYA!"

"Early morning,

Mist rising

Wake me in the spring"

I jolted out of the nightmare with every inch of my body quaking. The lamp was still on and my book lay flat on its back, my hands squashed beneath it. I must have dozed off whilst reading.

'As if it wasn't enough living through it once, now I have to dream about it,' I thought, sitting up straight in bed and setting my book on the bedside table. My leg throbbed like hell, as though the horror I attempted to exorcise in my dreams had reminded it of what had befallen me sixteen years ago. Slowly, achingly, I slid my legs over the side of the bed and set my feet upon the floor, leaning forwards and reaching up my back as far as my fingers could extend. There, the very center of my spine had snapped and serrated in half, not only falling away from each other but jamming over top of the separated bone. It was an excruciating recovery period.

I was told I would never walk again. That I should be paralyzed from the neck down, confined to a wheelchair, needing others to assist me in performing even the most basic of activities.

It was my worst nightmare. A nightmare that had cost me the dream of teaching martial arts professionally. Yet, I could only be grateful that I had proven everyone wrong. That I had spared my family the terrible grief they endured for three long years as I struggled to teach myself how to move, then walk, then run, then fight all over again.

The doctors couldn't explain it. My body had been broken in so many places, tendons shattered that it could never be repaired by medical science. And all I gave it was time and time was all it took to heal me.

Even now at age thirty-two I am still recovering. My leg would never be the same. It twinged painfully with abrupt movements and after continuous exercise it would ache and throb until it brought tears to my eyes. The medicine Yutaka had given me a week ago had eased the old wounds far better than any other formula or therapy ever had. I couldn't help but be grateful.

This night had been the first since I had met him, that I did not show my gratitude in my dreams. For seven nights, I had dreamt of making love to him. Of having him tryst beneath me, hands gentle upon my back, soothing and healing me even in that which was thought to be such a selfish, passionate act of indulgence. Night after night, my mind explored the possible variations in which I might eventually take him, the conjured sensations so powerful that I would awake to find myself in a state I had not experienced since my adolescence. Could the reality be any more satisfying than what appeared in my consciousness? The feeling of my skin against his, the rise and fall of his abdomen slapping against my own with every movement I made inside of his warm, tight body. In my dreams I'd had him in almost every way possible; thighs strung up against my chest, legs draped over my shoulders, then with his back tucked in against my torso, soft round buttocks slotted in between my thighs; each time hotter and more satisfying than the last. I couldn't say I was exactly surprised that my hormones were igniting; it had been close to three years since the last time I'd had sex or been intimate with anyone. It was clearly on my mind. Dreams take what lingers in your thoughts during the days' proceedings and enacts them during your sleep without restraint. In all honesty, I didn't spend a great deal of my time thinking about taking Yutaka Watari to bed. This is not to say that there weren't the odd occasions when I entertained that amenable prospect but I was rather old- fashioned when it came to sex and I was only ever intimate with people that I loved or felt that I may have fallen in love with. It wasn't in my nature to engage in one-night stands, or the occasional sexual exploit just to alleviate tension. Just thinking about doing so, made me curl my lip at the implied lack of morals.

And yet there I was, my sleep serenaded by thoughts of that gentle, carefree creature moaning tunelessly, thrashing in a belligerent rise and fall upon the black sheets I had selected with his fair complexion and golden hair in mind.

This worried me. This worried me at a very deep level.

By using the new rule, I had hoped to keep Yutaka closer to Kokakuro, not so much to slow down the investigation but rather so that I could be a part of whatever developments he made. I was a little beyond caring about my promise to Muraki, more concerned with finding the person who had taken my girls; my daughters, my family and disposed of their lives in such a brutal irredeemable way.

I wanted to be with Yutaka when he found who had done it. I wanted a chance to have my revenge against the villain, to redeem myself for not being there when my girls had needed me. I had never taken a life before; I am not like Muraki. I wasn't sure what I was going to do when I came face to face with those responsible. I was sure of this much though: I wanted to be there.

I wanted to be standing at Yutaka's side and be some part in dealing out the retribution they so desperately deserved.

Finding the pain from my leg to be intolerable, I forced my weary body out of the sheets and limped over to the cabinet, pulling open the top drawer and fishing my hand inside, searching for the bottle of painkillers I kept in there. Instead, my hand landed on two plastic satchels and I pulled out the samples I had taken from Yutaka's medical bag. I opened the drawer and glanced down at the three sealed containers, which held the semen extractions. In my hand, the bags held two skin scrapings from beneath Karu and Seki's fingernails.

A spear of guilt punched through the pit of my stomach. Though I had never taken a life, I was guilty of crime and sin nonetheless. Time and time again I had pervaded the course of justice, to protect Muraki. To protect a killer guilty of the most atrocious crimes.

I felt guilty every single damn day. But I kept doing it anyway. I did it because I vowed to protect Muraki, as repentance for failing him those many years ago. It was through my hand indirectly that one of my closest and dearest friends had the means through which to destroy the family that had accepted him, when he had nothing else left and in no direction to turn.

But enough was enough. This was too close to home and I couldn't bear to imagine the look on Yutaka's face when he realized what I had done; all for the sake of allowing Muraki the chance to seduce the friend whom had requested his protection before Kyoto fell to his responsibilities. The very thought of that warm and cheerful mouth wilting and those eyebrows knifing in, betrayal shaping the light, bubbly features… Well, it didn't make me sick to the stomach exactly but it made me feel uncomfortable to say the very least. I didn't think I would be able to tolerate him being angry with me.

I put the satchels back in the drawer and retrieved the bottle of painkillers, unscrewing the cap and popping two of the white capsules between my teeth, limping toward the adjoining bathroom where I washed them down with a mouthful of water. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, at my cold and distant expression.

When had I become so comfortable in that guise? I hardly ever smiled any more; my face just wasn't particularly warm to look at. I seemed so serious and withdrawn most of the time.

It wasn't difficult for Yutaka. The fact that I referred to him by his given name not only in my address to him but also in my thoughts should have been some indication as to my changing feelings for the exuberant Guardian. Long before the murders, Kokakuro had been dark and secluded from the rest of the world. I was alone but not necessarily lonely. It had been three years since I had been intimate with anyone but I didn't particular mind. I was content in that state of rigidity. Like the Hanged Man of the Tarot Cards, I was locked in suspension between life and death. Unmoving, swaying by the end of a rope for all eternity.

And then suddenly, in comes this bright and vivacious force that not only invited light but carried it everywhere he stepped. Shadows seemed to run from him, the night that would oppress on all sides of a person, couldn't so much as touch him. Inviting Yutaka Watari into our world had been as effective as changing a burnt out light bulb and replacing it with something that was even stronger and brighter then what had been there to begin with. Try as anyone might, it was impossible to be subjugated in his presence. Every single day he had worked hard at not only his job but he put in one-hundred and ten percent at his disguise occupation, serving, admitting customers, chatting with the girls, helping them get ready in the evening and subtly assisting me in the kitchen when he thought I wasn't paying attention or figured he could get away with it. Since I had been giving him space, I attempted to keep our conversations to a minimal necessity but he found ways of expressing his remorse in non-verbal methods. Once, I had left the kitchen to talk to a guest and I came back to find that the dish I had been preparing already completed with even the additional garnishes. Yoshi told me later that Yutaka had rushed to do it the second my back was turned. And though I pretended not to notice, I knew very well that his eyes would remain on me just that little bit longer during dinner.

He was a gentle yet powerful presence, demanding attention and at the same time, understanding his place well and alternating between the nurturing older brother figure, to the guest and employee at a moment's notice. The girls adored him. Yoshi and Mrs. Koneko promised to disown me if I happened to misplace him. Akemi threatened to downright bury me upside down in the garden if didn't give him a fair chance.

What none of them understood however, was that my attraction to Yutaka had at first been nothing that could be described as something so serious. I was performing the task that Muraki asked of me and fond of him though I had become, it would be with no great difficulty that I would bid the guardian goodbye once the case was complete.

I had determined such thoughts at least four days ago.

Then I happened to overhear Yutaka and Akemi talking.

I was on my way to the front desk to go over the client register when I passed by the dining area, where only minutes earlier we had concluded a meal. Through the gap in the door, I heard Mrs. Koneko and Akemi assuring Yutaka that he needn't worry helping clean up the mess.

"Never you mind with that, it's what I'm here to do! You wouldn't want to put an old woman out of her job now, would you?" Mrs. Koneko said teasingly.

Yutaka laughed. "Don't go using such a blatant guilt trip on me, Mrs. Koneko! Saying you're old when you know damn well that it hasn't got a ring of truth to it. Now, I'm sure you couldn't object to me taking one or two dishes off of your hands now, could you?"

"There, you see? They do raise them charming in Osaka!" Mrs. Koneko exclaimed in a fluttery, girly giggle of a voice very unlike her. I could hear Akemi tutting.

"Look, darl, it's like this: You don't need to go to this much work to get on Oriya's good side. He gets in blue funks like this occasionally. Don't you worry, he'll come out of it when he's good and ready."

I had risked a glance into the room. Yutaka was holding a plate to his chest, possibly smearing the remains of what still adorned it across his uniform. Oh, joys of dry-cleaning.

"Well… I hope you're right, Miss Akemi. I've been driving myself mad thinking about what I must have done." He smiled brightly at her and then set the plate down suddenly and darted forward taking her hands in his. "I guess I've just been in the way but I really can't help myself! I always go all out to try and get a smile from people I like. Maybe I'm just making a nuisance of myself…" He concluded with a slight blush. Akemi smiled and pulled one hand free to pet his cheek.

"You're a nice kid. And you're not in the way; so don't think for a second that anyone here finds you a nuisance. It's been more than a delight inviting someone like you into our household. When you're not looking, Beau smiles. Just being around someone sweet like you is enough to make anyone happy, even that gloomy bastard."

Yutaka smiled shyly, his eyes focused on some distant point in the floor. "I don't think he's gloomy at all. Oriya… he's deep. I guess there's a lot on his mind, too much for a scatterbrain like me to comprehend." He laughed softly and rested his hands on his chest, eyes half lidded serenely. "He makes me so happy."

"He makes us all happy," Akemi conceded, reaching out to set both her palms on either side of Watari's blushing features. "Even at his most difficult. We would die to protect him and he would die for us. Oriya's only true fault is the company that he keeps."

I knew that she spoke of Muraki. She had met Muraki and had never warmed to him. Akemi had a slight sixth sense and admitted to finding something about my oldest friend to be 'slightly off.' She was never afraid to come right out and say what she thought and I trusted her intuition completely. Often I would sway my friendships and close confidences depending on her opinion. I found going against her judgment was often a mistake, though I, too, had a rather strong psychic sense. It was with this ability that we had been able to read people like Yutaka Watari. And it was why we felt so good in his presence. He had a wonderfully warm and gentle aura. A feeling that eased our senses.

"Yutaka…" Akemi had said, her gentle touch enquiring his attention rather than forcing it. "You would be wonderful for Oriya. You're a lovely person… I think you'd be a good influence on him. I know it's only early days but I like you a great deal and seeing what you have done for Oriya, I can only ask that you will try to be close to him. It's true that he may be a little difficult to get along with at times. He can be moody and he doesn't laugh much… but we love him with everything we have. Give us…and him… a reason to love you the same way."

Yutaka touched her hand, his lips drawn into a thin, tired smile. "Miss Akemi… nothing would make me happier but to try. I just get the feeling that he may not like me all that much. I think I might have done something to hurt him. He… may resent that."

Akemi smirked. "Hun… all Oriya resents in the world is people who hurt those that he cares for. He's a big boy. And I know that he would find it very difficult to hold a grudge against someone like you. He may not show it, but he's got a soft side. If in doubt just pull off that big, dopey smile of yours and he'll melt like cheap ice-cream."

"If I can get a smile out of him in return, it'll be enough." The blond declared spunkily.

That night I hadn't dreamed about having sex with him. It was instead replaced with the more sedate and intimate of images. Of making love to him.

I was a goner and I knew it.

Every day his cuteness seemed to intensify, to the point where I wanted to grab a hold of him and squeeze him like a big teddy bear. I was easily distracted by the images of crumbs upon his lips, by the movement of his body when he walked, of his intense sprightly nature. Nothing could bring him down. And at the same time I admired his professionalism. He worked diligently for hours at a time, often foregoing meals when he thought he had made leeway on the case. He made sure to include me with every new development, though there were no major breakthroughs at this point. I nodded and pretended that I understood whilst my mind was occupied with images of the way his legs might keel up off of the bed sheets when he came, whether he would be as noisy during intercourse, as he was during his day-to-day activities. I was beginning to really want it, too, not so much the sex but rather the look in his eyes after the commencement of the act, his fingers running down my face, a tender kiss into his palm, our hair mixing together in shades of honey blond and chocolate brown. He was innocence and yet, there was no innocence to be had. His cheeky nature and flirtatious manner invited sex but he was gingerbread soft to the touch and though the thought of harmlessly fucking him did have its appeals, I found myself continuously more enamored with the notion of having him in my arms and being borne within him on a wave of simple, tender motion.

For the first time in three years, I found a reason to reject my peaceful solidarity. I wanted to be with him. I wanted intimacy, someone to confide in, someone to care for and experience all that I gave in return.

It was with these thoughts in mind that I rang Muraki.

I finally reached him on his cell and when he answered he sounded somewhat out of breath though not annoyed.

"What do you want, Oriya?"

I curled my lip. "That's some way to greet your oldest and dearest friend."

"My apologies. What can I do for you this fine eleven-thirty p.m, Oriya my oldest and dearest friend?"

"I don't think I can do this any more." I said, planting my hand over my face and wishing that my voice wouldn't infraction so. I didn't want to drag it out any longer than was completely necessary. "Muraki… I don't want to hinder this investigation anymore then I have already. The case is proceeding slowly and I sincerely doubt that my intervention would make the slightest difference at this point. I think it's time to call this off."

He was silent for quite some time and when he spoke I was expecting him to level some meager threat at me or at least negotiate a change in my decision to affluently rescind on my ultimatum. To my surprise, it was nothing of the sort.

"If that is your decision, then I respect that, Oriya." He stated, sounding almost sincere. I was stunned by how easy it was to have him comply. "I understand that this case was very close to you to begin with and if you are no longer comfortable delaying the course of justice, then I have no objections to the annulment of our arrangement."

"Well… thank you." I said; a little disappointed that it hadn't evolved into one of our many verbal sparring matches, like it may have in the old days. I was starting to think Muraki didn't care any more. "In that case… I'll put some of the samples back tonight then give it another day or so before I return the rest. I would be better off returning them bit by bit… it would look suspicious if they all turned up at the same time."

"As though that imperceptive blond would make the connection. Just assert your looks and draw his attention elsewhere, if he appears to be over-rationalizing things."

I was offended on Yutaka's behalf, to hear Muraki simply assume that he was so focused on visual pleasures that his work would take backseat. It may have had a ring of truth to it, but it's not exactly a tactful factor to bring to light. But Muraki could never be accused of being tactful.

"Just one question;" he said, before I could speak a word in defense of my current employee. "What dramatic event could have occurred that would inspire you to ring me at such a god forsaken hour?" He spoke coolly, voice masked by the ruffling of sheets in the background. This had perturbed me at the time but by now of course I realize that he had been in the midst of making old Violet Eyes' bed. It still makes me grin to think of Kazutaka Muraki becoming domesticated. "Surely you could have made this announcement at some point tomorrow… you only ever call up at arbitrary times of the night when there's something playing on your mind. Is there another reason why you don't want to continue on with our arrangement and please, spare me the discomfort if it is what I think it might possibly be."

I sat down heavily on the floor, favoring my throbbing leg and nursing the cordless between my shoulder and chin. "I'm not sure what you're thinking of, Muraki, but then again, when have I ever had that privilege?" I paused, not really expecting a rebuttal for my unintentional jibe, more concerned with whether or not I should have been honest with the man. I figured it wasn't anything to be embarrassed about, since it had been at Muraki's insistence that I open up to the blond in the first place. "I'm falling for him."

Muraki groaned loudly and I had a very good idea it was because I had confirmed his suspicions.

"So I feared." He concluded wearily. "That was exactly what I had been concerned with, Oriya, thank you. You are so predictably banal."

"What on earth do you mean by that?" I growled from between clenched teeth. I hated when he used words that he thought I didn't understand. He had a bad habit of attempting to humble me in the most facetious and arrogant ways. Usually by showing off that University intellect which I had been unable to acquire as a result of my accident. Which had been more than in part, his fault.

"You've always tended to settle for less than what you are worth," Muraki explained, as though I were two years old and needed a step-by-step walkthrough. "Every one of your romantic partners hasn't exactly been stunning. With your looks, your power, your prestige you're deserving of much more."

"I've never wanted 'much more' than what I was fortunate enough to have." I growled. This was never one of my favorite conversation topics. I got it from my sisters from time to time but Muraki was the worst by far. "I've been lucky to love genuine people, even if they weren't of 'superstar' quality. And wasn't it you who encouraged me to flirt with Yutaka in the first place?"

"Flirt with not fall in love with, you intellectually barren moron!" Muraki snapped in an exasperated tone. "I don't know why I am bothering to explain this to a man who is so far gone that he already refers to someone he has known barely a week by his given name. How intimate have you been with him? I hope you'll invite me to the wedding, which by the rate you're going should be any day now!"

"I don't know why I bother talking to you." I growled, my fingers tightening on the phone until the plastic covering nearly snapped beneath my nails. "Obviously I'm keeping you from something important, so I won't waste any more of your time. I just thought you should know that I'm hereby going to do all in my power to help this case move along as quickly as possible. You're on your own now. Good luck getting old Violet Eyes into bed. I'll call you again in a couple of days' time."

"Oriya," He said sternly, just as I was about to abort the call. "Do me one last favor, my friend. All I ask is that you look after yourself. Don't let your heart drag you between that guardian and whatever danger he faces. You might come off worse for it."

"Thanks for the advice. Under no ordinary circumstance would I think of that myself, Muraki. Thank God I have you around to keep me from acting like a total ignoramus. Goodbye." And thus I hung up vindictively.

I couldn't believe the nerve of him. After the mess he had made of his life, he had the audacity to belittle my emotions and to belittle the quality of the people that I have been with. I was hoping for a smidgen of something resembling guidance, though deep down I knew Muraki was undoubtedly the worst person I could have turned to for that sort of thing. I would have been better off talking to some random codger on the street. Some random codger would have been preferable come to think of it. And the advice I received couldn't have been any worse.

Still, Muraki had been unusually agreeable to the imminent annulment of the deal that we had made. Something must have happened, to put him in such a sprightly mood. Something involving this 'one that he loved.' Bloody hypocrite… To boast that he was above the juvenile concept of love, to demean anyone who believed in it and then to invoke it when it suited him. It was so typical. Muraki had always been such a confusing person. Even knowing him as long as I had, until this very day I am still trying to figure him out.

But I couldn't be bothered with such perplexing issues that night. Muraki was the least of my concerns for once. This should have come as a great shock to me but what was even more alarming, was the fact that I cared not of this change in perspective. Angry though I was with the man, my emotions could only be brought so low before they were elevated by the knowledge that I had alleviated the situation, which had imposed such great tension upon me. I was now free to return the samples I had stolen. I couldn't very well come right out and tell Yutaka that I had taken them initially, not particularly keen on enduring the end results of such a confession. It would simply be a matter of sneaking them back into his medical kit when he and the Gushoshin weren't looking.

Elated by the prospect of finally freeing myself from the burden of guilt, I retrieved the semen samples first, intending to return and get the skin scrapings the day after, to preserve the possibility of chance. As I had previously mentioned to Muraki, it would appear decidedly suspicious if the missing samples all happened to turn up in one big clump on the same day. Once I had tucked the containers safely away into my pocket, I left my room and made my way over towards the neighboring door, trying to formulate some method in order to remove both Yutaka and Gushoshin from the room so that I could return the samples without hindrance. I decided at the last minute that I would send them off to investigate 'some disturbance', using the available time to return the containers to the kit.

There was no light on in Yutaka's room so I knocked extra loudly, thinking that he might have fallen asleep. I wasn't overtly concerned by the darkness. Maybe he was working on the computer and found it easier to focus on the screen with the light off.

"Yutaka, Mr. Gushoshin? I was wondering if I might have a word?" When there was no reply, I took it upon myself to enter the room, stepping into awaiting shadow. Fortunately, my eyesight was sharpened considerably as a result of my advanced senses and I was able to make out the various details of the room with embarrassing ease. The computer was switched off, the medical case propped up beside it and tilting its weight against the leg of the low table. Yutaka's suitcase was lying open, his odds and ends spread out in a jumbled fan across the floor. I tried not to stare out of respect but it was difficult to avert my eyes away from the rather eccentric and admittedly sexy underwear that lay strewn about, most of which looked composed of little more than string and lace. I had admittedly been shocked earlier by the sight of his visible thong straps; believing that to be a one-off occurrence that I could become accustomed to. However, from the number of g-strings I inadvertently took account of, it would seem that he wore them on an almost every day basis. My lips quirked up in coordination with my thoughts, pleasantly surprised by this new sexy side Yutaka had unintentionally revealed to me and I could only help but imagine how he might have looked standing before me wearing one of those skimpy things alone, that coy, coquettish expression beckoning me ever closer… It took quite a bit of mental persuasion to negotiate my thoughts into returning to the issue at hand and for a minute after, I couldn't wipe the smirk off of my face. It was shameful really; a man in his thirties, behaving like an adolescent sifting through his girlfriend's underwear.

One of the futons, Yutaka's, was empty and from the rigid arrangements of the sheets, looked as though it hadn't been disturbed for at least a day. The second futon was occupied by the snoozing Gushoshin, who snorted something random in his sleep and rolled over, cuddling up close to an empty saké bottle as though it were a teddy bear. I forced my laughter down and inched silently through the dark room towards the medical kit, prying it open delicately and placing the tiny sealed containers underneath some various odds and ends. With any luck, Yutaka would think that he had missed them, his poor eyesight hopefully contributing to the feasibility of this excuse. It was after I had clicked the kit shut that I started to wonder where, in fact, the blond Guardian was. He said he had a lot of work to be doing and yet, nothing in the room was disturbed. Computer was off; notes and papers were piled neatly to one side of the workstation. At first I thought he might have wrapped up only moments ago and was waiting for me in my room as promised but I had just come from there. There was no chance he could have avoided running into me in the hallway. Even if he turned invisible, I would have been able to sense him.

Wondering if he was checking out the room where the murders had occurred or if he had wandered into the kitchen for a snack, I rose to my feet intending to go and find him, so I could set my curiosity at ease. But I never got the chance. The sound of a bell tingling drew my attention from my current task and I sensed a pressure escalating from deep inside of my body. It was a not all-together familiar feeling but it was not a foreign sensation either. My sixth perception was becoming active; I could intuit something else in the room. Something that bore no material presence in this realm.

On the right side of the room stood the walk-in wardrobe and I suspected that the source of the sound, not to mention the instigator of my perception lay just beyond the sliding door. I stepped up to it, paying close attention to the beats of my heart. A highly erratic beat would inform me that I was closing in on the presence, as well as a cold chill that seemed to stroke my spine from top to tailbone. The insides of my elbows itched. The hair on my forearms was poised as I slid my hand into the notch cut of the wooden door and tugged it open, finding nothing out of the ordinary. The closet was completely empty; Yutaka must have been keeping all of his clothes in his suitcase, I reasoned. Or otherwise, on the floor surrounding his suitcase.

I sighed, telling myself not to get so worked up over fictional boogeymen and went to pull the door shut. As the paneling started to slide out from the wall a painful, icy sensation suddenly snapped around my wrist, like a manacle. The numbing cold shot so deep I felt it in the depths of my bones. I brought my eyes around, uttering a surprised cry as I saw the source of the touch. A pale, feminine hand reaching out from the darkness, gray fingernails digging through the skin of my wrist, to hold me tight. I clearly heard the bell tingle again.

"Oriya…" Came a voice from seemingly nowhere, followed by a frightful cry of pain, which can only be compared to a woman in mortal agony. "Please… please help him…"

I couldn't take my eyes off of the hand that held me. The ashen, transparent arm that stretched out of the closet, with only darkness at its root.

"Who?" A shrill high pitched octave, akin almost to the sound one experiences during a hangover, assaulted my brain and I cried out, darting my gaze to and fro around the empty room, now filled with the voices of what sounded like a dozen people, moaning in pain. "Who's there?"

The pain took leave of my senses, but the voices continued their onslaught, apparently heard by me alone. The Gushoshin slept on, unconcerned. As I straightened up, fingers pressed to my throbbing temple, I came face-to-face with none other than Seki. It was her arm that held me. She, like it, was transparent. I could see the wall of the closet through her. The cause of her death remained however, like some cruel joke. Blood streamed from a thick, horizontal slash in her neck. Blood that never fell and never clotted. I could feel my stomach seizing up, my brain threatening to cave in on itself. This wasn't the first time I had seen a yurei but it was the first time ever I had encountered the ghost of someone I had known and loved in life.

Seki didn't appear as perturbed by her condition as I was. "Oriya… protect him…" It was her voice, but her mouth didn't move. "In my place… please…"

"Seki…?" I said, voice shaking. "No… no that's not possible! My darling… you died!" I didn't even stop to consider that this probably wasn't the most tactful thing to say.

The sound of spirits moaning intensified, capped off by some suitably eerie laughter. It was disturbing, but I wasn't necessarily frightened by it. What frightened me was what came after; loud, even amidst the cries of the deceased, who for some reason, had decided that Kokakuro might have been the IN place to hang at that very moment. The sound of Yutaka in pain. He was fighting someone… no, there were more people – a group of them. He was frightened and he was having a hard time moving. He was calling my name… he wanted me… needed me there.

"Yutaka!" My senses went into overdrive as I turned my eyes back towards my once employee, who had released my arm and was floating softly out of the closet, dressed in the same clothes that she had been killed in. "Seki! Seki… is he in trouble? Is that why you're here?"

Seki gazed at me solemnly, her expression unchanging. The bell tingled again.

"Please… help him… in my place…"

I wasn't sure what she meant by those words and only later did they make sense to me. Faced with the ghost of someone I had loved, I found that this even held no sway over my thoughts. All I could think of was Yutaka. Somewhere out there, hurt, frightened and needing me. I reasoned that Seki must have known that. She had always been the type who would find some way to protect the gentle people who were in need of help. In death, it seemed that nothing had changed.

"Where is he, Seki?" I asked, tightening my yukata cord around my waist. "Can you show me?"

"He's this way…" She whispered without hesitation and with one finger extended to indicate her intentions she started to walk away through the open door into the darkness of the hallway. "If you trace the sound of my bell… it will take you to the one who loved me most…"
"So you're leading me to…" She was already gone, long before I could finish my question and I was left with no other choice but to chase after her, my thoughts in a tangle as mattered as the cross over compilation of yarn. 'Dammit, why did you have to leave Kokakuro?' I internally scolded the blond, praying that the painkillers would kick in soon. My leg was giving me hell for the strain I was putting on it. My anxiety quickly changed to anger at Yutaka, for disobeying the instructions I had delivered to him a little over an hour ago. Did he think I made these rules for fun? 'I'll beat you to within an inch of your afterlife if you're in any state to endure it, you little beast!'

I heard Seki's soothing voice wash over me, even though her specter had long since vanished. The tingle of her bell was the only thing leading me on. That and her voice.

" Please don't be angry at him…" She enquired, as I burst through into the foyer, darting through spiels of moonlight that managed to slide in through the gaps of the window shades. "He couldn't be angry at anyone… not ever… for anything…"

'Who was Seki to you, Yutaka Watari?' I wondered, as I motored towards the front door, hearing the bell signal to me from the other side. I stepped into my shoes and pushed through the door, out into the night. 'You have a lot to answer for, if she can call you the one who loved her most… "Seki! Where are you going?" For I had emerged outside of Kokakuro's entrance, into the dark street beyond. For some time, there was no answer to my question and I was starting to think that I had taken a wrong turn when I distinctly heard the tinkle of the bell to my left. I chased after it, staying close to the outside wall of Kokakuro, being guided by Seki's gentle voice the entire time. It was malleable and tenuous, like the gentle breeze of a summer night. The farther we moved however, the softer her tone came. As though she were fading away.

"Seki…" She mused happily and I was forced to strain my ears in order to catch the lessened dust of her words. "I love that name… Seki… He told me I was his beloved… that he would die for me… He kept his promise… That's why I was able to come to be here… with everyone… with you…"

My steps faltered and I looked up at the sky, even though there was no specific direction from which Seki was addressing me.

"Seki… what are you trying to say? How do you know Yutaka Watari!" I was met only with silence and I felt my desperation increase. I was sick and tired of suspecting and knowing nothing! "Dammit, Seki, answer me!"

"Don't stop… every second you delay, something terrible happens…" Her sweet voice urged me back into a run. "He's this way… Come…"

"Seki…" There were tears running down my face as I ran. They streamed out behind me like rain from the soul's source. "I don't know how this is possible… But if I've been given a second chance then I want you to hear it now. Listen, baby… I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you! I couldn't…" My words were cut through by a sob ripping raw from the depths of my chest like a hidden knife blade, serrating through my heart. "I couldn't protect you! I failed all over again, just like I failed Saki and Kazutaka…"

"… I'm so fortunate…." Seki sighed, her voice sounding as though it were calling over a great distance. "I've been loved my whole life… But I'm not the one who needs you now…"

The wall opened up into Kokakuro's garage and I was surprised to see my motorbike sitting outside the locked folding doors. I was positive that I had chained it up inside the last time I had used it. Now it was perched up on its stand, facing the road as though preparing to take off at any second. My helmet perched stoically upon the leather seat, like a substitute driver. The keys glistened from beneath the handlebars, awaiting a mere simple twist to activate the faithful machine into action.

"At the place where I met the one whom spelt my death… he's there now and my fate will befall him. If you think you failed once… swear now not to fail again… Ra's Sunline… Hurry!" The bell tinkled once more and Seki's voice slowly, achingly trailed away to nothing. My chest hurt badly, the weight of my emotions settling unevenly upon the expanse of my heart. "Hurry… Oriya…"

"Seki… Forgive me…" I whispered, wiping at the tears on my face. Now seemed to be the time designated for my long-awaited period of mourning but I could not give it credence even now, not when Watari was apparently in danger. I straightened my spine and then, mustering every spare inch of strength that resided in my body, swung my leg over the bike and put on my helmet. "I won't let the same thing happen again… Yutaka… you'd better hope you're in good shape, so that I can kick your sorry ass myself…" It was on that positive note that I gunned the engine and took off down the road, praying to every entity under the sun that I wasn't about to lose another person who I'd allowed into both my home and my heart.

Watari

Ra's Sunline was the kind of bar that I found very comfortable. It wasn't your typical nightclub; most of the patrons were in their late twenties, early thirties, with nary a teenager in sight. It was a compact, cozy atmosphere; crowded but familial. I liked it a lot.

Liked it so much in fact, that I had honored it by shooting back a couple of beers. Having grown up in the generation of 'the Six o'clock swill,' I was used to knocking back my drinks fairly quickly and I didn't think much of it at the time. When it came to my attention that I was, in fact, steadily progressing into the stage of intoxication, I took it as a sign to slow down and start actually collecting the information that I originally came for.

Though beer wasn't the only thing distracting me from work, I will admit.

"You know, this has been fun." Said the young man sitting across from me, leaning his cheek against the ball of his fist and smiling genuinely. Kenyle was tall and good looking with dark hair and eyes, wearing a business suit with the tie hanging loose. He reminded me a little of Tsuzuki and not just in appearance either. "Are you sure you don't want to go somewhere more private? It's hard to get to know someone with all this ruckus in the background."

I flashed him a sunny smile, firmly instructing myself not to accept that request, no matter how appealing it was. There was only one person's bed I wanted to be in that night… and it's a credit to how much I'd had to drink when I realized that I couldn't even recall the name of that bed's owner.

"Ordinarily, I would take you up on that, but, unfortunately…"

"Ah…" Kenyle said, smiling good-naturedly. "This is where you give me the polite brush off, right? Guess I'm not your type…"

I laughed just that little too loudly and put a hand on his arm. Geez, give me a couple of drinks and I'm anyone's. "Didn't you hear what I said? I said 'ordinarily' I would take you up on that, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that these aren't exactly ordinary times for me…"

Kenyle was a nice guy. He didn't seem to feel overtly rejected by anything I would say and likewise, didn't pressure me to lean things in his favor. Seems Kyoto is where they have been hiding all of the gentleman.

"Boyfriend, right?"

I could feel my face going a little red and turned away from Kenyle's knowing smile, trying to pretend as though I was hypnotically drawn towards the pearl onion in my drink. In reality, such an object could only effectively captivate my attention for five to eight seconds, depending on the onion.

"I'm… not really sure how to put it…" I confessed, in all honesty wanting nothing more than to just leap on top of the table, grab a conveniently well-placed megaphone and shout it out for all Kyoto to hear: 'I'VE BEEN DOIN' LOVEY MUSHY STUFF WITH ORIYA AND YOU HAVEN'T!' But, I'm not the type of guy who likes to brag. I don't get off on boasting my achievements. "Let's just say I have hopes for it."

Kenyle smiled and carefully traced the rim of his glass with his fingertips, spinning it around on the coaster upon which it was set. "Well, good luck with that. Can't say I'm not a little disappointed though…" He sighed dramatically and then spoke in a voice of esoteric over exaggeration. I could tell because he made a big show of dropping his lip. "And I thought for sure that you were the chosen man from my dreams, too…"

My eloquent response was a nervous giggle, which goes to show that even us genius scientists can be caught out sometimes. "I think you can do a little better than me, mate. Just some friendly advice."

Kenyle laughed self-mockingly and smiled at me. He really did have a beautiful smile. Straight teeth, warm, approachable. That was the reason I had chosen to speak to him, though admittedly it was him that had originally approached me. I guess I made a good show of downing my last pint. Works wonders at bars. Better than hashing out a pick up line. Just ask Tsuzuki. He's the King of drinking and despite my hearty attempts over the years; I just never seem to reach that same drunken level of euphoria. You would think I deserved to, taking my tremendous hangovers into account.

"So, how long are you planning on staying in Kyoto?" Kenyle asked, breaking through my thoughts.

I was playing absentmindedly with the straw in my drink, most of my attention fixed on the rather handsome guy before me. "Well, I'm here on business… so as long as it takes to wrap up that business, I suppose you could say."

Kenyle glanced up and folded his fingers neatly, abandoning his drink for the time being in order to designate his attention fully on me. It was very flattering to be subject to such resolute interest. Oriya had made it something of a habit to delegate his focus completely toward me whenever we spoke and Kenyle appeared to be cut from a very similar cloth. Once I had tiptoed upon a topic that was of some interest to him.

"You don't say? What sort of business are you into?" He asked, ignoring a clump of his bangs that swayed into his right eye.

I smiled lightly as I took the liberty to brush back his hair for him. He seemed a little surprised by my touch. "Call it missing persons, if you will." I answered.

"Ah, so you're looking for someone. Not the boyfriend is it?" He questioned, in a teasing faux-hopeful-tone-of-voice, which brought out another smile in me.

"That guy couldn't stay lost even if he tried!" I exclaimed, chuckling at the image of Oriya attempting to hide from me. It would most certainly be met with failure, as there was no nook in earth, Heaven, Hell or Hades that could keep such a hottie concealed from me. Especially if I was sending out Ichibana to track him down. "No, I'm actually looking for these girls." This was my prompt to reveal the pictures I'd been keeping safe in my inside jacket pocket. I held them out for Kenyle's inspection and indicated to them one by one accordingly. "Karu, Seki and Terumi… You mentioned that you frequent here… You wouldn't be able to tell me if you remember seeing them in here a little over a week ago, could you?"

Kenyle looked at the pictures one by one, paying deliberate, positive attention as is common amongst people half stewed. "Yeah… I know these girls all right." He said at last. I perked up immediately, thinking that this outing might not have been a bust after all. "They're really sweet… especially that one." And whom, of course, did he happen to be pointing at? None other than Seki. I delegated a sharp pang of guilt in my stomach to be experienced at a later date and was on the verge of asking my next question when Kenyle plucked Seki's picture out of my hand and started to look from my face to hers in such rapid dictation that I immediately knew he had spotted it.

Sure enough, seconds later:

"You know…" He mused, holding the picture up next to my face. "You look a little like her… say is that the reason you're searching for her? You her long lost brother or somethin?"

Her brother… well, I could see how he had come to that conclusion. I tried not to appear rude as I snatched the pictures back, but there really was no other way of doing so without looking like a complete asshole. To his credit however, Kenyle said nothing of my abrupt burst of discourtesy.

"Sorry, babe, but that's confidential info you're asking." I remarked lightheartedly and then quickly averted the subject before he thought to ask me anything else. "Do you remember seeing them in here or…?"

"Actually… now that you mention it… yeah, a little over a week ago I was in here, having a drink with a couple of friends…" Kenyle interjected, tilting his glass up against his lips and draining the dark liquid within down into the depths of his throat. "I saw those girls come in. Everyone knows who they are."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.

Kenyle set down his drink and rested his elbow against the table, setting his cheek atop the uneven rise of his ridged fist as he regarded me thoughtfully. "Well, come on… they're Kokakuro girls. The place is infamous. Can't say I ever fancied goin' there myself. No money and as you can probably tell, I'm not exactly into girls." He chuckled self-mockingly, running the gnawed nubs of his fingernails over his skin. I noticed a faint blush rising up from the underside of his cheek, the pink hue contrasting agreeably with his dark skin. "Heard that the guy who runs the place is quite the hottie, though… a lot of people go just to see him."

This made me smile, when I thought of how anti-social Oriya was, how closed off from the world and secure he was in his own privacy. I wondered what he would think if he had any idea that half of his male customers were actually there to oogle him and not his girls? I wouldn't have been surprised if this came as something of a shock to him.

"Oriya Mibu, right?" It was hard to wipe the smirk off of my face. Just thinking about Oriya made me a giggling girly twit.

Kenyle pointed a finger at me from around his glass. "See? Even a visitor like you knows of him. He's about as infamous as his girls. Doesn't come out much but he takes care of those little ladies when they need him." He paused as though something had just come to mind, wriggling his glass to and fro as the noises in the background seemed to increase in the lulled atmosphere of our conversation. "I heard about this particular occasion where they were being roughed up by a couple of guys when leaving here. Before the Bouncer could lift a finger, there's Mibu, tearing out of the darkness like a dog and he takes those dudes out. Put them in the hospital from what I heard and as soon as they could walk, they left Kyoto." He shook his head in awe and took a token sip of his drink. "It certainly leaves an impact on ya… meetin' the Wolf of Mibu."

This name snagged my attention, as nothing else had that evening. There was something vaguely familiar about that honorific, a memory that longed to be recognized. It was all but leaping about in pink spandex, singing Ave Maria whilst dancing the Cha-Cha to gain my attention but for the life of me, I couldn't thread the connection between point A and B.

"That's what they call him?" I asked, intrigued further by my lapse in acumen. Kenyle slapped his drink down and edged closer to me, eyes bright with excitement. It was then I realized the obvious; Oriya was an enigma of Kyoto. People recognized that there was something unusual about him and it intrigued and attracted them. Only, he screened himself off from the rest of the world, which only increased the fatal allure tenfold. It didn't help matters that he was gorgeous to boot.

"Hell, yeah!" Kenyle exclaimed, in reference to my question. "If you could see the guy in action… it's unbelievable! His speed, his movements… it makes the rest of us look like we're standing still!" He took another sip of his drink and then waved his hand in an apologetic manner. "Sorry, I got a little sidetracked there. You were asking me if I saw the girls. Yeah, I saw them but I only looked up when they came in. I didn't see 'em leave or nothing. I met someone cute that night and all my attention was focused on them. Bit like now." Another blush navigated its way across his face and he laughed broadly at his own gall. I had to smile. It was nice have someone consider you attractive, even if it was only a side effect of the excessive drink. "You know… if you want to find out who they left with, you should talk to the boss." He gestured over towards the bar with one abrupt jerk of his thumb. I looked over at the elderly bartender, currently serving drinks to an attractive couple possibly in their early thirties. "He runs the place as well as working the bar. Mibu knows him. Told him to keep an eye on his girls whenever they came in. Failing that, the Bouncers might be able to help. They took good care of the girls, too."

"Thanks, think I will!" I said, finishing my drink with flourish and climbing rather unsteadily to my feet. Kenyle reached over to steady me, wrapping his fingers around my inside elbow and squeezing slightly. He smiled charmingly and for a moment I almost regretted my fanatical crush on Oriya. Almost. "Thank you for all your help, Kenyle. Oh… and for the drink!" I added with a cheeky wink.

"Wait… hold up a sec…" I watched patiently as Kenyle released my arm and retrieved a pen from his jacket pocket, using it to scribble his number on a serviette, which he then jammed into my hand. "That's my mobile number… in case you need to contact me again. Or you know… in the off chance that fellow of yours won't have ya…"

I smiled as I tucked the serviette into my pocket, thinking privately to myself that if Oriya hadn't been at the focus of my attentions, I would have called Kenyle the very next day. He was one of the kindest, most genuine guys I had ever met. Not to mention incredibly easy on the eyes.

"Well, aren't you sweet… thank you!" I fluted, giving Kenyle a brief squeeze, which he attempted to prolong for longer than I was comfortable allowing. I might have been tempted to go with him, considering the state I was in, but I wasn't prepared to compromise my position with Oriya in the slightest. So, it was with much regret that I extracted myself from his hold and turned in the direction of the bar, waving over my shoulder at my cute drinking companion.

"Take care now!" I instructed.

"Seeya later!" Kenyle said, waving happily, though he appeared somewhat morose at our parting. I smiled to myself in a most smug manner as I made my way up to the bar, purposefully swaying my hips as I walked. So, I couldn't help but be a tease.

"Hey!" I called brightly, twinkling my fingers at the bartender. He smiled in return to my greeting and set down the glass he had been cleaning.

"So, what can I get ya, blondie?" He asked, in an accent almost as distinct as my own. I was positively delighted.

"Beer! Beer's the word!" I exclaimed, perching myself upon one of the bar stools and slapping the bar top loutishly. One of my favorite modern dance numbers started to play and couples were hitting the floor in a variety of creative and not so creative displays of aesthetic body jiggling appreciation. It was a shame I couldn't have indulged in any of that myself. Truth be told, I'm not much of a dancer. Not that it stops me from getting out there and enjoying myself to the maximum! I loved dancing with Tsuzuki, especially after the guy knocked a few back. He was a surprisingly exceptional dancer and seemed to get better the more that he drank. I sighed, twirling a strand of hair around on my finger and wondering how my sweet-natured friend was getting along. He sounded unhappy over the phone…

The barkeep interrupted my thoughts by drawing my attention to the shelf behind his graying head. "Any brand specifically?"

I grinned and quirked my finger up. "Surprise me with something cheap!"

He laughed at my wit and grabbed a bottle of beer, twisting off the cap and slapping it down on the table in front of me with much flair. "That'll be 1500 yen, partner."

I forked over the money and snagged the bottle by the neck, tipping it back as it met my lips and flooding my esophagus with a frothy flood of lager. A few spirited gulps later, I brought the bottle back down and felt my face break open in what I imagine was a rather startling grin. "Aaaaaaahhhh! I'm alive again!"

"Haven't seen you around here before. You new?" The bartender asked, retrieving his previously abandoned glass and setting to work on it again, wiping away smears that were invisible to an ignorant drunken asshole like me. In response to his question, I laughed a little sheepishly and ran my hand through the back of my hair, unconsciously soothing out a few knots in the process.

"Actually, I lived here a long time ago, when I was a kid." I explained to him, hoping that the guy didn't turn out to be someone my family knew whilst we lived there. He didn't look a day older than I would have been, had I lived past twenty-eight. "Just came back for business. Kyoto's a great place to live, isn't it?"

It was his turn to laugh. "That's not something I'd expect a young man to say! People your age tend to find Kyoto a little boring compared to some of the larger cities like Tokyo and Osaka."

I wondered what the aged bartender would think, if he had any idea just how old I truly was. "I grew up in Osaka." I said, tracing my finger around the opening in my beer bottle, admiring the sap-stained color of the glass. "The hustle and bustle gets old after a while. Kyoto's so peaceful… It feels sacred… I don't know why, but I just love it here with every fiber of my being!"

"You're an interesting young chap." The barkeep said, his expression on the critical rictor between gentle amusement and astringent bemusement. "What's your name?"

Again, I wondered whether it was particularly wise to disclose my true identity within this conversation but my tipsy state soon eradicated my strained concerns, severing them as effectively as old cord pulled by a persuasive weight.

"Watari. Yutaka Watari. Pleased to meet you!" I distributed, sign, sealing and delivering the introduction with a wink, as Oriya had so colorfully put it.

The bartender set down his glass, slung his towel over one shoulder and offered me his left hand; clearly his hand of preference.

"Hotaru Natsuko." He had a strong handshake. "An equal pleasure."

I released my grip on his fingers and sat back on my stool, fishing my hand down into the inner pocket of my jacket. Time to slip a little work in there somewhere.

"Mr. Natsuko? Could I ask a favor? I'm looking for some people that were in here a little over a week ago and I was wondering if you could be of any help?" I revealed the photographs with a flick of my wrist and placed them down on the table, spinning them about so Hotaru could get a proper look at them. He glanced once at the pictures and then burst out laughing, though not in such a manner that it drew the entire club's attention. Tsuzuki is famous for that one.

"Good luck, kid." He chuckled, putting the thoroughly scrubbed glass away and moving down the bar to serve another customer. Confused, I trailed after him, sliding my beer along the bench top as I went.

"Huh? What do you mean?" I asked as we became stationary at last. Hotaru met my eyes with an expression that said I really should know better. I'm sure I would have… if I had any understanding of what it was that I should have known better than to have been involved… with…

"Unless you're willing to pay through the nose, you're not likely to get within an inch of those girls." The bartender explained, accepting a handful of notes from a pretty redhead and taking a moment to make sure everything was there before opening the cash register. The redhead caught my eye and I winked at her, sending her giggling back over to her even gigglier group of friends. "Those girls? They're Mibu's ladies. Geishas. And high class ones at that."

I realized with a jolt what it was that Hotaru thought of my interest and found myself blushing ashamedly. "Oh, no, no, no, no, you've got it all wrong, sir! That's not my reason for locating them! I'm a private investigator. This concerns something personal… regarding their well being."

This certainly seized his attention. Hotaru turned his eyes to meet my own and shut the cash register drawer a little harder than he intended. It caught the hem of his work shirt, but he failed to notice.

"Oh my… Are they in some sort of trouble?" He asked with such sincerity that I didn't doubt for a second the degree of the relationship he shared with them. I imagined it to be a sort of father/daughter rapport.

"I apologize but I'm not at liberty to say." I stated, returning the pictures back within the depths of my pocket and sinking back another drag from my bottle. It was already starting to take control of my senses. My eyesight, already disagreeable, was becoming downright rebellious. I wobbled unsteadily on the stool before righting myself. "Can you tell me if you remember seeing them in your establishment on Friday the 10th of August?"

The barkeep was good enough to give this a bit of thought. He stood tall and very still, fingers pressed against his slightly prominent chin, green eyes focused on some point just beyond the constraints of the ceiling. Memories were always beyond the grasp of material restrictions.

"Well…" He drawled, tapping his finger a little as he spoke. "It's a little hard to say exactly but… yes… yes, I recall they did come in that night."

This was fantastic news for me! Finally, it looked as though I might be making constructive leeway in the Geisha Charm case! I wasn't a hopeless lovelorn slacker after all!

"Do you remember what they were wearing?" I asked, whipping out my notepad and a pen, kept safe in my left hand inside pocket. Hotaru sighed and ran his shriveled fingers over the shining crown of his balding cranium.

"Son… you'll have to forgive me, my memories not what it used to be… but…" He trailed off, obviously straining his mind as far as the limits would allow. "I think Karu was wearing a white dress… square cut. Seki had on… jeans and a pretty top… They came over to present themselves to me. We always do that, you see. Actually, I've been expecting to see them in for quite some time. Is something wrong?"

I felt a pang deep down in the far reaches of my heart, when it occurred to me just how many people were going to miss these girls. Not only their families, but also friends and acquaintances that had known them for many years, who loved them and protected them. Who saw them day and night and spoke with them, laughed, told jokes, showed off clothing to. I should have understood this well by that point but never before had a case been so personal for me. Never before had I been provoked to examine the sphere of reason from all sides of the axis; not from my eyes alone but through those that were a true part of this horror, in that they had lost friends, loved ones and family.

"As I said, Mr. Natsuko, I cannot say until I can come to some satisfactory conclusion." I was pissed off for having to give such a crappy and unsatisfactory response but there was little I could do, when I had to keep the case hush hush. I capped the pen and put the notepad away, my information confirmed. The girls had been wearing the same clothes that night, as the ones that they had been found in. Ra's Sunline was most likely the last place they had visited before returning to Kokakuro. Now, the only thing left was to try and determine, who it was that might have been with them.

"Did you notice them leaving with anyone?" I questioned, gulping back another slug of beer, thinking that it would be my last one for the night. Though, considering what I heard next, I would have much preferred to instigate it as the first of many more to come.

"Well, yes," Hotaru divulged, noticing at long last that he was being held captive by the cash register and started sifting through his keys to find the one that would unlock it. "If I recall correctly, Mr. Mibu himself came in to pick them up. He takes such good care of those girls."

My beer very nearly came up through my nose. I literally felt my blood run cold. "What…?" I ejaculated, shifting forward on my seat so that I could get closer to Hotaru and eradicate the possibility that I had simply overheard him. "But… that can't be right…"

"Is something the matter?" The old bartender asked worriedly, tugging the creased corner of his work shirt out of the drawer's clutches before sliding it shut again. Safely this time.

My thoughts were jumbling about my skull in a hurried fraternity haze of uncalculated insinuations. The unfounded suggestion that… that the man who… That he had not only lied to me but had done such an evil thing. I couldn't fathom it! Not in the slightest! I wouldn't!

"Um… I'm sorry but… Oriya-" I quickly righted myself. "-Mr. Mibu couldn't have been the one to pick them up."

"Why not?" Hotaru asked curiously.

"Because…" I said, sounding fairly desperate as my fingers trembled in their death grip upon the neck of the beer bottle. "-because he was the one who hired me to find out what happened to them! He was at the movies when they were here!"

Not that I had more than his word to support this. I was so smitten with him that it hadn't even occurred to me that I should have checked out his story, to see whether or not he might have been lying to me… I simply accepted it. There was no possibility that he… could have… done such a thing…

He wasn't like Muraki.

I'd made sure to keep telling myself that, as though constant rehearsal of the words would somehow make them truer.

The barkeep shrugged as he gathered up a few empty bottles and glasses scattered about the tabletop. "Well… I'm not sure what to tell you, Mr. Watari, because Mr. Mibu, as you may have noticed, wears very distinct clothing and his hair stands out for a mile away. Unless it was someone emulating him, which is absurd… the girls went with him without a fuss, as they always do…"

I felt sick all the way down to my toes. An eyewitness account… placing Oriya at the scene, possibly only an hour before the girls were killed. If he had come to bring them home from Ra's Sunline, then he had omitted evidence, which may have assisted in the eventual and rapid apprehension of the criminal responsible. Why would he want to delay that? If not…

If not for the fact that Oriya himself was the murderer.

The cuts across the girls' necks… I had measured them, judged the angle of each laceration and determined that a sharp blade with a 3 by 3 inch diameter had been used to inflict the blows. None of Kokakuro's kitchen knives had panned out.

I had checked all the blades. Except…

Except for the twenty-four or so samurai swords hanging in Oriya's bedroom; some of which measured precisely 3 by 3 inches, I'm sure.

That night, in the bar, I thought for certain that I was going to throw up again. The very notion that I had been intimate with someone who could very well have committed the atrocious, brutal, unforgivable murder of my… of my…

I fully understood Tsuzuki's guilt at that moment and berated myself for not being more sympathetic to his plight. Being with Muraki, after what he had done to Hisoka must have tortured his mind and body, the way that my own suffered now.

"But… that can't…" I tried to insist, but my already intoxicated body was not helping my sudden onrush of nausea. I was on the verge of vomiting. "Excuse me…" Ignoring Hotaru's concerned questions, I dismounted the barstool and headed towards the bathroom, fingers pressed over my lips lest I lose control prematurely. On my way over there however, I was stopped by a waitress carrying a drink on a tray. She smiled brightly, tossing back her straight brown hair and gently gained my attention by touching me on the wrist. I reluctantly gave it, praying that I didn't lose my guts all over her.

"Excuse me, sir? Those guys over there said that this drink is on them." She chirped, handing me an incredibly fruity and rather expensive looking drink, before gesturing with her hand to the group responsible for sending it my way. There were about five men, all relatively nice looking and totally wasted if appearances were anything to judge by. Not to mention straight. It must have been some sort of joke at my homosexual expense, even though none of them were laughing but instead waving encouragingly. Which made me trust them even less, believe it or not.

I smiled apologetically, setting the drink back down on the tray and tipping the waitress for her trouble.

"I'm sorry for this… but… would you mind telling them thanks from me and explaining that when in bars, I don't drink anything I haven't seen prepared. Again, sorry. You're doing a marvelous job."

The waitress smiled sweetly and ducked her body in an abrupt curtsey before swaying back over to the group of men in the corner, who were looking somewhat stunned at my rejection. I felt a little bad but knew better than to drink anything that you couldn't watch being made before your eyes. Being drugged was something that we, even Guardians, had to be extra careful of. Poison and drugs still affect us, as I had discovered that night before I left for Kyoto a week ago. Never again. Even as punishment for my sins. Never. Again.

I made my wobbly way into the bathroom, resembling some great rolling blond-haired walrus, looking for a place to die. Some guy was leaving just as I entered and I was thankfully left alone; with my thoughts and reflection glancing out from almost every surface in the obnoxiously glitter spangled room. I took off my glasses, slid them into my pocket and then made my way over to the sink. I stood by the basin and splashed some water against my face, trying to calm down and bring my body back under control.

'I don't believe for a second that it's Oriya.' I declared forcefully to myself, daring my blurred reflection to object. 'He loves those girls… He wouldn't mislead me if he thought it would delay justice. … Oriya couldn't have…'

"Unless it was someone emulating him, which is absurd…"

My mind started to wander back to when the boy creature named Pandora, had emulated the figure that had haunted my childhood and continued to do so for many days after. There was always the chance that this had something to do with it… 'That might just be it… Oh my God… could this Mitkiel be attempting to have Oriya framed for the murders? If a demon copied his body and then used it to rape and murder those girls, it would leave behind his DNA. It would be his semen, because it was directly copied! Police don't know anything about demonic tactics… Oriya could take the fall for this… I have to have those samples analyzed pronto! If only I hadn't misplaced the damn things! Yutaka, you're such a scatterbrain!'

I slapped my hands against my forehead and sank my elbows down into the porcelain of the sink, trying against all pretence to think of what my next move would be. Much like in chess, it is often the opponent that dictates your destiny to move or be swept from the board at any moment and that night, I was the pawn which found myself well and truly snatched from the square upon which I stood.

It started the second that the bathroom door opened behind me. I didn't pay much attention, assuming it was someone coming in to use the facilities and was surprised, as you would expect, when I was instead attacked from behind, a thick arm wrapping underneath my chin and twisting upward to follow the line of my jaw. Owing to my appearance and my lack of offensive guardian abilities, most people just assume that I don't know two nuts about defending myself. Whilst I am something of an 'almost pacifist', it didn't imply that I would simply give up and allow myself to be harassed by people who intended to hurt me. It was with these thoughts in mind that I briefly struggled against the arm holding me and then changed tactics mid-stride. I leapt upwards, hard and fast, ramming the crown of my head into the assailants chin, then driving my elbow backwards into his solar plexus. As the guy keeled forward, I delivered the knockout blow, tightening my gloved fingers into a fist and then plunging said fist into the attacker's groin, throwing him down onto the filthy tiled floor. I couldn't resist the chance to enjoy a well-deserved gloat at his pained expense.

"HA! They don't raise them soft in Osaka!" I cheered honestly, having learnt to take care of myself whilst trolling around the streets with my mischievous siblings, looking for places to stir up trouble. 'So, I may not be the number one Guardian… but at least I can take care of myself in hand-to-hand fighting… how many other Guardians can boast that one?'

I didn't have much time to brag about my tremendous "martial arts" (note the sarcastic quotation marks) prowess before a second assailant grabbed me. It was near to impossible to access the situation without my glasses but I didn't dare put them on during a fight. I would only be asking to lose an eye AND the temporary cage where I kept Ichibana concealed during the day. Before I had a chance to pull the same trick on Goon number 2, the first guy staggered back to his feet and got revenge for the clout I had bestowed upon his nads by shifting in close and punching me so hard in the face that I almost blacked out. Pain exploded down my T-Zone as the fist shattered my nose, sending blood spurting out over the floor to my right and dribbling miserably down my face. The wound would heal but that wasn't to say that it didn't hurt like hell. My body went limp and three other men appeared from nowhere to help pull me to the ground, one holding me around the neck, another holding my arms, two holding my legs and the other standing before me. Though my gaze was shifty to say the least, I could see that he held something in his hand. Something I clearly wasn't going to like.

"Isn't this a little overzealous for just little old me?" I asked, loathe to hear my nose whine and bubble as I spoke. The guy standing made a harsh hacking noise of disgust.

"You should have just taken the drink when we offered it to you nicely, blondie. Now you're going to have to take it down the hard way. Open wide and say 'Ahhhh!'

'Now I know how Tsuzuki feels whenever I force him to test out my new potions.' I thought to myself, the back of my throat convulsing as blood pervaded my sinuses. My nose was healing rapidly but when I spoke, it still caused blinding pain to thrash gratuitously throughout my face.

"I'll open wide and say 'Aaaaah' all right, you bastards…" I groaned, tilting back my head and snapping my lips wide open, screaming as hard as I could, in an attempt to be heard over the music, pounding throughout the club. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Somebody! I'm being brutally molested in the bathro-" My cry for help petered off into a high pitched (and embarrassingly girly) shriek as the goon standing up, stamped his foot down on my groin, exacting his ironic revenge upon me. The pain was so bad, I wanted to curl up in a ball and die dramatically in the corner, but two of the jerks were holding my legs apart, constricting any thrashing I was desperate to partake in. My eyes watered, blood dribbling down across my lips as my lower abdomen rocked from side to side, in an attempt to alleviate the agony.

"Ouch…" I whimpered pitifully. The goon holding me around the neck sniggered and increased the pressure in his arm, constricting my jugular more so. I was finding it difficult to draw a breath, even with my chin angled downward to keep some distance between my throat and his arm.

"Now why'd you have to go and do that?" He sneered. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to respect your elders? Now just hush up and take your medicine like a good little boy." I winced as he tangled his fingers through my bangs and used his hold to tilt my face up, the man standing before me leaning down to push what felt like a glass against my lips. Now I didn't know what bland store-bought amphetamine they had swirling around in that Bacardi and Coke but I sure as hell wasn't swallowing it! I didn't even like Bacardi and Coke. They could at least have drugged a beer… Frightened, but at the same time curious as to what their intentions were, I knew that under no circumstances could I permit them to force that drink upon me. I pursed my lips together firmly and what little of the drink managed to sink between them, I promptly spat back out. I couldn't see Goon Number One's face but he sounded annoyed, when next he spoke.

"Deryk!" The assailant pinning my arms stiffened in response, so he must have been Deryk. "Go stand watch by the door!"

As soon as the pressure upon my arms was lifted, I lashed out, hoping to catch my attackers my surprise but I found myself forced back down onto the tiles by a follow up cuff to the face, which re-broke my newly healed nose and went so far as to split my upper lip. My skull bounced hard off of the floor, shooting blinding, sickening pain throughout my head. Combined with the agonizing swelling of my face, I was overcome with the burgeoning desire to cry but I resisted, knowing that bawling like a baby wasn't going to help my situation much.

Goon One knelt down close to me, his finger pressing down on the broken marrow of my nose, which most likely resembled mashed cauliflower. I gagged at the new pain that brazenly hacked at me from this simple application of pressure.

"Listen closely, you stupid little faggot…" The goon hissed in a voice of much loathing. "Swallow this down, or I'll cut a damn hole through your throat and tip it down your fucking esophagus!" To my astonished horror, the blurred figure reached back into what I suppose was his pocket and tugged out something rectangular. There was a click and the shining silver blade rose out like a hypnotized python from a wicker basket. The goon ran it across my neck, eliciting a whimper of fear. It sounds stupid but the instinct for self-preservation never leaves you, even in death. "Sakumi! Pinch his nose shut. He'll realize he has to breathe sooner or later."

I screamed in pain as Sakumi, the guy holding my neck, reached down and clasped the fractured remnants of my nose between his fingers, snapping the openings shut. Blood was welling up and seeping down into the back of my throat with nowhere else to go. I started to choke on it, my body heaving in staunched coughs but regardless, I tried to keep my mouth shut as the glass was once again pressed to my lips. But even I, an undead, couldn't hold my breath indefinitely and as the blood continued to choke me, I was grudgingly forced to split my lips apart. I tried to get a breath in but only ended up choking again as the villains poured the drink into my gullet. I attempted to spit, but a hand covered my mouth, trapping the liquid inside. I was desperate to breathe; desperate to end my snagged, hacking coughs, which were so painful I thought my lungs might explode at any second. I stared up at the blurred shape of my assailant, hating him and then grudgingly swallowed the contaminated liquid. One of the goons holding my legs chuckled in appreciation and ran his hand up my thigh, just to add insult to injury.

"That's it… slurp it all down, good boy…" He said in a condescending voice. The man named Deryk, called from over by the door, where he had been peeping out into the interior of the club.

"Looks like someone's coming over to use the john."

Goon Number One quickly gathered his wits about him, ignoring poor spluttering me. "All right… I'll step into the cubicle with him… (That would be me) He's mostly out to it already. Shouldn't be too long before the drug starts taking affect."

I only learnt later, by taking a self-urine test that the drug administered to me that night was nothing more than Angel's blood, which as I mentioned before was akin to radiation when induced by immortal Guardians. It slows our healing ability, dulls our senses, renders us physically ill at abrupt movement and eventually slows our motor skills to practically nothing. By far the worst affliction is that it temporarily relieves us of our mana, so that we are unable to cast spells. We are left basically, helpless.

It was nice that they felt the need to go to all that trouble for little old me but it would have been much easier, just to have ganged up on me and kicked my ass. I was pretty much helpless as it was. A drug wasn't going to make an altogether noticeable difference. But it seemed rude to spoil their fun.

Goon Number One moved quickly after handing out orders like a drill Sergeant, wrenching me off of the filthy tiles and dragging me into the end stall, closing the door behind us with a dramatic bang. I put up the best of the fight that was in me but I could already feel the drug taking effect. I was rendered so docile, I may as well have been tranquilized and any other noise I could have made, was stifled by my attackers belt, which he had wound around my head and between my teeth. I looked positively ridiculous, at the mercy of five drunken guys in a Kyoto Bar, possibly drugged and most likely on the verge of being mugged, gang raped and thrown into a ditch.

Perhaps at any other time, I could have found a funny side to the situation.

But not this time.

Now, I was terrified. Terrified at being subjected once more to the nightmare commandments of men who found themselves to be in a position of dominance. Men who would care not for what had already happened to me in the past and how a repeat of such abject degradation would break the light-hearted Guardian of Death; Yutaka Watari.

A man that no one ever believed they would hear beg to die before being brought back to that place.

A place, in both mind and reality that bore no point of escape.

XxXxXxXxXx

Ichibana had been surprised by how quickly the young girl had moved. Even in the elegant form of a Siamese cat, he'd had difficulty keeping pace. Which was a nuisance, considering that he needed to be at lease ten or so feet away from a being in order to read their essence. So far, he hadn't been able to get a clear shot of the girl. She weaved in and out between the buildings as indiscreet as undiluted darkness. To his great disbelief, after only ten minutes of trailing her, Ichibana had lost sight of the beautiful woman.

The Siamese leapt up on top of a low hanging gutter, sniffing in a most haughty, un-cat like manner.

"Bloody hell…" It grumbled, swiping its rough tongue over its forepaw as though to rid itself of the accumulated filth he'd been forced to dredge through in the girl's wake. She'd been fortunate enough to be spared such offense, as her high heels elevated her dainty feet to a safe and envious level. "To think that I of all people, the shadow of the Dark War, would be outsmarted by a pre-pubescent little hussy in a mini-skirt and high heels!" He reconsidered his statement. "Then again… I think I traded in m' pride when I let that blond bubble-brain bind me. Not one of my finer hours…"

Feeling less than comforted by his thoughts, the djinni placed his newly washed paw back upon the curved lip of the gutter and directed his green slanted eyes in successive left and right turns, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive miss. The tightly knitted streets of Kyoto weren't as quiet and secluded as he had expected; quite the opposite, they bustled with activity, people squeezed into every available inch of space as they wove their way in and out of stores, homes and peoples lives. Though the girl was exotic in appearance, it hardly seemed to matter. Even with Ichibana's eyes, it was near to impossible for him to discern one person apart from another.

Ichibana yawned, finding that he was rather bored with the whole proceedings. Why on earth had he thought it necessary to track this girl around all over Kyoto? She was probably nothing more than that; just some stupid human girl out looking for someplace to get her ass molested. That certainly wasn't any business of Ichibana's. And it wasn't any sort of moral obligation that had inspired his involvement in the first place. Though there perhaps may have been… Isaac would have been ashamed if he thought that Ichibana turned a blind eye to anyone in need.

"But she's not in trouble. She's just out tarting around!" The djinni groaned, feeling that it was foolish to make excuses to a man long since dead but as equally certain that the excuse needed to be made regardless of this fact. "Besides… I reckon there's somethin' more to her… she looks familiar somehow… now if only…"

Wait…

There she was. Ichibana caught sight of her in the street beyond the one in which he was crouching. The sign of a nightclub, before which she was speaking to a group of rather surly looking men with rather dreary expressions on their faces, had illuminated her.

Ichibana checked the name of the club. Ra's Sunline.

'So, she's trying to get into a club. Big deal! What? Is she the only teenager who's ever tried to sneak into a place like that? So it happens to be the one blondie's at…no biggie. Total coincidence…'

…

Yeah right.

Any djinni- no, any creature with some semblance of gray matter between their ears, knew full well that nothing can ever be brushed aside as merely coincidental. There was always a chance that it was nothing more than that but Ichibana was inclined to trust his currently cat-gut feelings on this. His djinni-senses were tingling a very strong message: Check it out.

The Siamese raised its haunches from where they had rested and flexed its hackles until the shiver of its spine reverberated to the very tip of its tail. Then, once it had checked to ensure that no eyes were upon it, the cat became a tawny barn owl, which looked very much like 003. It wasn't a form that Ichibana altogether fancied but it served its general purpose; in the dark, the owl's eyes could see even better than that of the cat and as he flew, he would make nary a sound. Owls never alerted their prey to the fact that they were being hunted and that was just how the djinni wanted it. And perhaps with a dashing pair of wings now, he might have a chance in hell of keeping up with the darling little belle.

He watched for a while, until the girl had finished her discussion with the men and they had gone inside. Once they had disappeared through the doors, the petite pseudo-blonde, wasted no time and immediately took off in the opposite direction, which happened to be towards Ichibana. He hunkered down against the gutter and tried to look as inconspicuous as an owl could look. At least now, if the girl passed underneath him, he'd have a chance of reading her.

But the girl didn't reach him. Instead, she veered off down a side alley, disappearing into darkness that looked as wet as blood. Ichibana uttered a curse, which startled an elderly couple who happened to be passing underneath this gutter and then reasserted himself, without further complaint. It was a sad djinni, who suffered from lack of patience.

The owl dropped silently from its roost and carefully angled its way inside of the alley, all of which sounds lovely in writing but in fact was idiotic to the point of being mentally brain damaged. Ichibana flew straight into a trap.

"Argh!" The djinni exclaimed as he flew into what resembled pink sinews of cobwebs strung between the walls of the small alley. The thin, near translucent webbing tangled about his feathers, wrapping him up securely. The more he tried to struggle, the tighter and stronger the tendrils grew, until it felt as though burning hot wire bound him in place.

The girl stepped out of the shadows, brushing aside their tendrils as they attempted to cling to her like the adoring hands of children. She wore a thin, somehow expressionless smile, that neither applauded her incarceration of the djinni, nor resulted from any vindictive pleasure she might have gained from seeing him in such a predicament. For lack of a better description, the smile she wore was one of contemplation. Thoughtful. Which worried Ichibana even more. A vindictive smile might have expressed weakness, for it indicated a creature that gained pride in accosting another and therefore revealed inexperience. What he saw before him was experience beyond arrogance. This girl- whoever, whatever she was, most likely had a long career. Much longer than Ichibana's, as he was still deeply entrenched in that bragging vindictive stage himself.

"Friend… did you truly believe that I wouldn't have noticed your attentions?" She asked softly, grazing her slender chin with a long, perfectly white fingernail. "You were in the park… and have followed me ever since." She suddenly laughed, her face expressing pure, almost painful pleasure. "You! What an idiot! Bumbling right on into my trap like that! You must be still a baby… only that could account for such blatant idiocy!"

Ichibana tried to think of an appropriate response that served his already largely crumpled dignity.

"Yeah… well… Who said I'm not just an ordinary owl and yer mistaken in yer accusations?"

The girl laughed softly, shaking her head skeptical at such outright stupidity. "Ordinary owls aren't cheeky enough to answer back. Nor do they curse in German."

"Drat." Ichibana grunted, giving what he hoped was a defiant wriggle in the webbing and shrieking as hot needles punctured deep into his essence. The girl shook a finger at him.

"Now, now, I would be careful if I was you, my little friend. You don't want to test those parasites. They don't like their prey to squirm… they dig their proboscises in and they'll squirt your underage essence full of poison. May as well relax. I'm not calling them off until I've had a chance to question you."

Ichibana immediately released all the tension from his muscles. "Okay, okay, I got it. I'll be the bitch, if it'll make you happy. What do ya wanna know?"

The girl raised her face towards the moon, a slight quirk of one eyebrow the only indication that she felt any sort of obligation to her other commitments.

"Later. I have other things I must attend to. Be a good boy and wait her until I get back, huh? Oh and don't worry," She assured as the owls eyes darted back and forth across the pink "parasites" tangled about its body. "They won't eat a great deal of your essence in the time I'm absent. … But then again, who knows?" On that ambiguous note, the young woman made towards the mouth of the alley, pausing to pinch Ichibana's feathery cheek on her way.

It was at that moment, Ichibana was finally able to read her aura. And two seconds was all it took to realize just who and what this girl was.

"Aww… shit…" The owl muttered.

Watari

We emerged from the back doors of the establishment and I was thrown onto the concrete, like a reeking sack of garbage. I was so sickened by the drugs effects at that point, that I was dry retching, even as I made valiant attempts to climb to my feet and seek out an escape that wasn't there.

"Where are the Bouncers?" One of the toadies asked, glancing around as though expecting to see what I was praying for; two muscle-bound Bouncers, previously banned from World Wrestling Championships for excessively violent anger problems and looking for a couple of sexually challenged blingers to take out their tension on. But it was my expected misfortune of course, that this question was to go unanswered, as were my silent pleas for help.

One of the taller Goons stepped out over my crumpled form, appraising the alleyway carefully. "Yeah, aren't there usually two or so Bouncers out here? What, did they knock off or something?"

I would certainly be having words with management if this turned out to be the case.

Goon Number Two waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, who cares where the damn Bouncers have gone. They're not here, that's the point. More importantly, what are we going to do with him?" Again him turned out to be me, currently struggling to wrest my wayward body off of the cement. My stomach flapped disagreeably within the depths of my abdomen and I staggered forward as bile surged to the back of my throat. I couldn't remember ever feeling anywhere near this sick in my life, even at the Ministry a little over a week ago. This was sickness beyond sickness. I felt the abrupt need to purge my aching stomach but nothing was coming out, even when I purposefully attempted to expel what it was that had made me so sick in the first place. It was already absorbed into my bloodstream. My attempts were futile and came far too late to make the slightest difference.

"That pretty girl said she was meetin' us here right?" One of the mystery men glanced down at his wrist, where there might have sat a watch. "Didn't specify a time…"

'Pretty girl…?' I thought wearily.

"No, she just said we should enjoy ourselves while we wait for her." The tallest of the group mused; the man that had forced the poisoned drink upon my lips. His voice lowered insidiously, so that I understood very well the implications of his following words. "You know what that means, don't you?"

I could literally feel my entire body seize up like a rusty gear, as my worst-case conclusion came to light.

'Oh God… please no…' My knees buckled carelessly, heaving my body forward against the grit-work of the concrete, grating my face from the right eyebrow down to my chin. It stung like Hell but didn't bleed. I waited for it to heal but the salving sensation never came. My nose, broken twice in the space of a minute had already staunched itself. A scrape should have been nothing.

But this wasn't the matter with which I need have concerned myself. Whoever had arranged my capture, whatever their intentions had been, this unknown girl of which the men spoke had given her disciples permission to 'enjoy themselves' in her absence. It didn't take an admittedly drunken genius like me to figure out what this meant.

"Ah I don't know, man…" One of them murmured, as I wriggled about like some paralytic worm on the damp alleyway floor. "I've never really been in it for guys myself… I mean, he's not what you would call pretty is he?"

I would have been insulted, if the situation had allowed room for vanity. Defending my appearance happened to be the last thing on my mind at that particular moment. I was rendered partially prone from a toxic concoction of fear and whatever the hell else had been plugged into my system. Over and over again, I tried to make sense of my surroundings, but everything was in a dazed cloud, like the out of worldly sensation of a dream. Much of the conversation was drowned beneath the pounding of blood between my ears. I faded in and out of consciousness, my legs soon failing to move at all and when I revisited my senses, could only manage to drag myself a miniscule distance up the alley towards the street beyond, using my once beautifully manicured nails. They snapped and cracked as I leveraged their brittle density against the concrete.

"It's not … different ta … it with … a girl." I was able to make out, though I would have been happy if the entire conversation evaded my attention completely. They were discussing how best to have their way with me, regardless of whether I was an ugly burk or not. "Besides, guys can be better. They're tighter. And you don't have to look at him if ya don't want to. Keep his nose to the grindstone."

"Couldn't make his face any worse than it already is!" One of them laughed. I wanted to swivel around, find whoever had said that and take a good chunk out of their ankle. As satisfying as that might have been, I knew with certainty that I didn't have enough drive to do so. I could barely lift my face from the damp ground. As my hands continued to sift my body forwards, my head appeared to be lagging behind so that it sank down between my languidly sifting shoulders. This wasn't a good sign.

A hard toed boot crunched down hard on my left hand and I opened my mouth to scream, horrified more so by my lack of volume than by the shattered wreck of my fingers, resembling for the most part, wizened pretzels. A dry rasp emitted from the back of my stained throat. My fingers were broken. My face was scraped. I wasn't healing.

What the Hell was happening to me?

"I don't know if he'd be all that satisfying…" The boot now planted itself on the back of my neck and I winced, reaching my mangled fingers up in an attempt to alleviate the pressure that squashed my features into the unyielding cement. "Looks as loose as could be… fuck him too hard and you're likely to turn him inside out!"

"You guys need to give it a rest… Really, he's not that bad looking…"

I snorted, thinking this hardly constituted an adequate defense on my behalf. I was grateful however, to find that the shoe holding down my neck was lifted away, only then to be replaced by fingers, which snagged into my hair, almost tugging my locks out by the roots. I was hefted off of the cement by the clump in that assailant's grasp. Knowing I was about to be bought into intimate proximity with one of these cruel men, sickened as I was, my immediate solution was to alleviate my fear by sobbing in pain, eyes clenched shut as the goon pulled me close. I didn't want to meet his eyes, to be reminded of that very same situation I was forced into forty-two years ago.

His warm breath washed over me. "What the hell are you whining about? You look like you've done this more than once or twice, so it shouldn't be any big deal doin' it now. After we went to all the trouble to drag your sorry ass out here, the least you can do is put it to good use."

Without any warning, I was thrown down roughly onto the cement. The push was so forceful, my skull literally bounced off of the concrete, slapping the ground twice with such force that my head split open, at least an inch deep laceration. My head snapped forward, striking stabbing knifepoints of pain into my sodomized brain. Blood ran in thick oozing trails through my hair and I blacked out, though I'm not sure for how long. When I came to, it was to the sound of someone unzipping their pants. I cringed, folding my arms over my torn face, sobbing at my awfully contorted fingers, my aching skull, and my endangered body. It was so difficult to move; it was as though physical weights were attached to my ankles. Regardless of such determined constriction, I used every inch of control mustered from the far corners of my inebriated will and curled my legs in close to my torso, forming a sort of protective cocoon.

Such was my ruined state, that it took that long for the answer to strike me. The bulge in my pocket, made from my glasses, brought me to mind of Ichibana's words earlier that night.

"Anyway, ye know how ta reach me if ye need me."

"Just call your name. Got it."

Tears were streaming down my face and I risked a glance, to see one of the men leaning down toward me, pulled free from the constriction of his pants. I croaked, crunching my body together tightly like a wadded tissue only to have it my defenses penetrated, as if it were truly nothing more substantial than paper. I was literally crying my eyes out as he flipped me over onto my belly, holding me steady by the scruff of my neck as though he were restraining an animal.

"No… not again… please…" I begged, receiving of course, no answer. "Ichibana I need you! Please…!" I gasped in fear as the one behind me grabbed a handful of my hair again and cranked my head up, arching my body at a drastically painful angle.

'Surely you haven't forgotten?' I jerked, as a voice that belonged to none of the men surrounding my battered body, a voice I didn't recognize, a voice that jeered at me from within the barriers of my skull. 'The particular selective purpose of your body, those forty-two years ago? Does this not bring your mind back to those days? A memory, which aligned you ever more closely to that boy you dare think of as a brother.'

'Hisoka…' I immediately thought and the voice laughed in return.

'You know well what he suffered. That vice is yours to bear also.'

Bile washed about the back of my throat and I dry-heaved as the man holding my neck, Deryk, if I remember correctly, leant his chin against my shoulder and whispered into my ear.

"Do my friend a favor whilst I'm having my fun back here… and tell him who you are."

A tall blurred figure stepped up in front of me, bathed in shadows scribbles. "So that we can find you later if we like what you do for us tonight."

I whimpered and strained my body forward as the one called Deryk tried to undo my pants. It seemed so much easier just to give up, to let them do what it was they wanted. My body was so weak… I felt nauseous and sick… like I had food poisoning. If you want to recognize some semblance of how I suffered that night, think back to the sickest you have ever been and then combine that with how you felt after getting deliriously, disgustingly drunk and throwing up so badly, you'd find yourself clinging to the toilet screaming; "I WANNA DIE! I WANNA DIE!" You should have some idea of how it was that I was feeling. As though I were blind to the gills. Out of control. Using magic to alleviate the situation was an aspect that just didn't come to mind. My brain was a raw scrambled mess. I had a screaming headache. I felt as I had the night I'd died.

"Who are you?" The shaded goon asked again and I was injected with a prompt surge of undiluted anger, rising above the cracked remnants of my wits.

"… I'm… nothing…" I hissed, unconsciously instigating a strategy that might spare my mentality. That disconnection from my individual self might have been the only method of pulling through this confrontation with my sanity intact. Just like before, Yutaka Watari had to step away from himself, just long enough so that it was the body that suffered. Nothing more. "Nothing… nothing… nothing… NOTHING, DO YOU HEAR ME? NOTHING!"

The goon standing before me laughed brightly, as though I had just told an exceptionally humorous joke. "Oh, I don't think you could be passed off as nothing. You look like someone who knows your way around, if you catch my drift."

Using the hold he had on my hair, Deryk smacked my face hard against the cement, causing me to scream yet again. I would be lucky if my brains didn't soon erupt from a leakage in my skull.

"You hear that?" He chuckled over my wretched sobbing pants. "That's the scream of a whore, of someone who knows and loves the sin of his body. Of feeling the touch of something shameful down deep inside of him."

I wanted to curl up and die.

"Well, he certainly looks like nothing short of a whore." The man at my front smiled and ran his fingers through my lips as Deryk started to pull my pants off, ignoring my bolstered panicked thrashing. "I'd like to fish my cock around that pretty little mouth of yours… I think you'd like the taste wouldn't you? I'd make you gag for it…"

I jerked away from his touch, wrapping my hands around my body to get a hold of my pants, fighting through the pain spurting along my fingers, to keep my body clothed. Deryk slapped my hands away, fitting one of his own beneath my hips and snapping the button out from the hole in which it was fitted. I shoved my pelvis down forcefully, trying to eradicate any space for his fingers to work but he altered my position embarrassingly easily, working my zipper down completely, before latching a hold of my back pockets and with a yank, working my trousers down off of my ass. I could feel my face going red, knowing I was being exposed to them and that I was helpless to stop it. It didn't seem real… it couldn't be possible that this was going to happen to me. Where the hell was Ichibana? This was the first time that he hadn't responded immediately to the call of his name!

I could hear a man laughing, one of my attackers from too far back for my poor eyesight to make out.

"Would you get a load of the underwear he has on?" Came the high-pitched cackle. Deryk had snapped my pants down to just beneath the curve of my buttocks, exposing my thong for all to see. "My God he IS gagging for it!"

I sobbed and buried my face in the ground, wanting to die from the humiliation of it all. Their laughing voices cackled around me, taunting me, putting me down and still intending to fuck me anyway. I tried to crawl away again, my nails scraping against the cement but finding no leverage. Deryk laughingly tugged me back into place so roughly my face smacked back down against the concrete, my hands trailing along the ground leaving bloodied trajectories.

'Somebody…' I silently pleaded. 'Please help me… Ichibana…' I wanted to scream but my voice was so hoarse and sore that nothing came out. Ichibana! Please… ! It's… gonna happen to me again…' And then I was appealing to someone else, someone I knew couldn't hear me but who I wanted help from regardless. 'Oriya please… help me…Oriya…'

Deryk paid no mind to my condition, preoccupied with running his hands up my bare buttocks. He adjusted the angle of my hips and then with an experienced twist, tugged the thong off, whipping it free at my feet and handing it to one of the other men.

"Let's keep it as a little memento shall we?"

I cried even louder as Deryk removed my jacket, revealing my naked lower torso completely. My blurry, red, tear-filled, unfocused eyes were just able to make out the figures of those men who were content to watch, some unzipping their pants and proceeding to rub themselves brazenly. Aroused by this demonstration of power over me. I wailed loudly, like a wounded animal snared in the jaws of a rusted trap when the guy behind me undid his own pants. I thrashed to get away, agony flaying my body like barbed wire from every movement. But physical pain was nothing compared to the torture of my soul, which quaked in endless tremors of the replicated exposure that had rendered me free of innocence.

'NO! Oh God… anyone please… Let me die again… I can't get through it again! PLEASE! ORIYA I NEED YOU!'

Cold fire washed through me as Deryk fished his hand sinuously beneath my t-shirt and ran his hands over my nipples. I only wanted to be touched this way by Oriya… and now I was being made dirty again! After being clean for one whole week, it was taken from me as simply as that!

"This is going to be fun." The man hissed. "Don't kid yourself otherwise…"

"I don't want it!" My mind screamed. "I don't want to be raped!"

Noticing my defiant expression, the guy who stood before my face, the one who seemed to be the leader of this little group, slapped me hard across the mouth. I gasped; eyes burning and then registered a third revival of bile in the back row of my throat, as I felt what could only be tip of his cock, rubbing across my chin. Mortified, I clamped my eyes and mouth shut, despite the pain I was in. Not being able to see it didn't make it go away, I knew that. But nothing at that time was rational. I was too sick to know any better solution.

"Open your mouth." Their leader hissed as Deryk pressed his own swollen penis up against my unprepared anus. He was going to tear me right open without a second thought. I clenched my buttocks together tightly, irrationally trying to eradicate the room necessary for entry. "Open up those lovely eyes too, so you can see what you're taking."

I whimpered, knowing that if I opened my eyes, I would be sentencing myself straight to Hell. "No… I don't want to…"

Their leader snapped his fingers about the front of my face and hooked his nails in, drawing blood as Deryk moved his hips against my buttocks. I shuddered, tears rolling down my face and through the fingers of the one that held me, knowing that Deryk was seconds away from entering me.

"There's no sin in admitting to what you are." Said the leader in a cold, unsympathetic voice. A hot weight twitched between my ass cheeks. "You have the face and the eyes, the mouth, the laughter, the soul, the body of a slut. I'm sure you've done this a million times over. And enjoyed it."

'I've never enjoyed being used like this!' I thought, winding my good fingers around the leaders wrist and using his steady weight to draw my body away from the one at my back. 'When I was so lonely… so insecure and weak, I told myself that I liked what was happening. That I was an active participant… But I was nothing more than an outlet, too ugly to be loved, just pretty enough to be satisfying. And when I said no, he took me there… For days on end, that's all I was to him… that evil man… in that dark room. He ignored me when I said no, no matter how hard I screamed or begged, or how much I bled… I was a tool for satisfying him… over and over again… I was a child…' There were tears pouring down my face. Tears I had never given myself credence to shed since the moment of my death, the moment I knew I could start over. I was disgusted at my own self-pity. 'I was eleven years old, the very first time I begged to die rather than endure another single moment in that pit of Hades!

"Please God! If you love me like you say, then please! … Please… let me die…"

'God never answered my prayers… and I'm thankful… I promised not to be subjected to that ever again! But even to this day, I let it happen. I let men use me to satisfy themselves and to satisfy the side of me that says I need to be punished. Seki… you made the act so beautiful, whilst I used it in such a filthy despicable way! Maybe I deserved to be punished…'

My consciousness waned and with a viable shudder, my body weight tilted, almost driving my upper torso headlong into the ground. Seconds away from succumbing to darkness, it may have been the drug that was making me hallucinate… but I swear that I could hear Seki's voice.

"…No… never! You're beyond this! Fight it out! Fight it out like you did for me… for us…"

"Seki…" I whispered, straining my eyes to seek her out from a world of darkness that no longer held her. But there was no reply. My mind was empty but my heart was blooming with renewed hope. "Seki… even now you're my final strength…" I lifted my face and set my eyes on the shadow in which I'm sure lurked the contradictory sight of the one whom deigned to commandeer my attentions. A smile slit across my lips, uncharacteristically malicious. As sick as I was, some of the old fight had returned to me. I had no doubt it was Seki's presence, real or imagined that had divested it. "If she could fight in those final moments… then it's only natural that I can, too!"

The men surrounding me had suspended their subsequent actions at the vigor in my voice. He, who stood at my face, knelt down, though his expression remained blurred as he tugged the hair above my ear sharply.

"What are you talking about?"

"You'd better let go of me now…" In an abrupt movement that startled myself as much as them, my good hand darted up and wrapped around his jugular, nails digging in. I was too weak to transfer all of my divested strength upon him but it was just enough to make my little friend sit up and take notice. Which is what I wanted. "I don't want this body dirtied any more by the likes of you."

The much stockier, broad shouldered man struggled to tug away my clasp upon his neck. My fingers had locked firmly about his throat and no matter how hard he struck my wrist; it was beyond my ability at this point to release him. It was a death grip.

Unshakeable.

"I belong to Oriya Mibu!" I declared raspily. According to those guys I spoke to, Oriya had a bit of a reputation. It was the only card I had to play. "If he sees what you've done to me… the Wolf will shred you! You won't be able to walk out of Kyoto on the shredded stumps he'll make of your legs!" My words were rushing out in the heightened tension of rage a person is brought to, through fear and fear alone. False bravado, encouraged by a heady influx of adrenaline. Regardless of where this anger stemmed from, I got the feeling that it was effective. I'd always had a tendency towards the dramatic.

The Boss finally managed to pry my fingers away from his neck and with a slap, had put me back onto the ground again. I struggled to remain conscious, as conversation rose and fell around my derelict form in nervous twitters.

"He knows Mibu?" One man said; his question followed by a very audible zipping noise as he did up his pants. There was noticeable fear in his voice. Oriya was more infamous than I could have hoped for.

"Pay no mind…" Came the bosses' thick voice, somewhat hoarse from the infliction of my grasp. "Like Mibu would bother getting inside friendly with a back alley bitch like this? Don't forget, Oriya is upper class. He would have his best pick of good fucks and I don't think our little blond friend here exactly qualifies."

They all seemed to find that a plausible excuse. Deryk was readjusting my hips again and I could no longer battle it out with the malevolent drug pounding through my body. My eyelashes fluttered against my bloodied cheeks, saliva seeping down from the corner of my lips. I was on the verge of unconsciousness, which was just how it had been…

"Ichibana… now would be a good time…" I whispered weakly. My reward for daring to speak at all was another box across the mouth. I started to wonder if my face would ever recover. I knew that my eyes were black, upper and bottom lips spit and almost every spare inch of skin scraped off. If I wasn't an ugly git before, I certainly was now.

"Stop talking to yourself!" The boss growled snagging my chin firmly and lifting it. My whole weight rested on his fingers, my strength evaporated as I teetered on the verge of conscious obliteration. "Now… be a good boy and do as you're told. Part your lips."

Suddenly, miraculously, my face dropped from his hold as his hand was torn off of my skin. It took all my effort to look up but it was worth it for the dazed sight that awaited me. For who should be standing there, holding my tormenter by the wrist, so far off of the ground that his feet were dangling but Oriya Mibu. At first, I wasn't sure that it was him. My eyesight was too bad to be certain and it was dark, I was drugged and drunk, which when thrown into the mix, doesn't evaluate into an all around lovely cocktail. But then he spoke and I knew who it was without a doubt. To say that Oriya was angry would be an understatement. He was positively furious.

For me…

"I would appreciate it, gentleman…" He growled, in a voice so deliberately dangerous I almost felt a little frightened myself. Except that I was too busy being absolutely, positively thrilled that he was rescuing me. It was so romantic! Only I was being saved from gang rape at the hands of a bunch of drunkards and not from a railroad track that I had been tied to in the oncoming path of a locomotive. "-If you would kindly take your fucking hands off of this little 'back alley' bitch."

"Mibu!" The all gasped as one. I felt the actual impact that his name made. I think that they were so stunned by his presence that they didn't react right away. Which made Oriya angry. I'm not sure what was said next but some words were exchanged and I was jerked up from the brink of sleep by a loud crack and something colliding bodily with the alleyway wall. Apparently, their lack of activity had prompted Oriya to snap the first goon's wrist and he had rounded this off by throwing his body against the wall like a rag doll, knocking him out.

I realized then the obvious; that I was half-naked and Oriya was seeing me in such a vulnerable, degrading position. I started crying, bracing my hands against the back of my head and hiding my face against the ground as though I could somehow blend in with the seamless grime beneath me. I was so filthy, that it just nearly seemed possible.

"Don't look at me!" I begged him weakly, still very much aware of Deryk's hands on my thighs and wanting to be rid of his contemptible touch. "Oriya, I'm sorry… don't look at me… don't see me dirty…"

Oriya made an awful sound, like a pained sob and his next command came out in a choked roar that made me cry even harder. "Get your hands off of him, right this second or I'll break every damn bone in your body! LET GO OF HIM NOW!"

I felt Deryk's hands release me so quickly that my legs smacked against the ground. I collapsed, weightless and sobbing, desperately searching for my pants so that I could cover myself. Oriya happened to be wearing a two-piece yukata and bless his heart; he threw the top layer over me, preserving my modesty. I pulled the material in around my body tightly, scurrying away from where I had been brutalized for the past who-knows-how long, until my back hit the alleyway wall. I fished my glasses out of my pocket and shakily put them on, though it did little to improve my troubled sight. I could see Oriya, staring impassively at the four conscious men who were attempting to back up the alleyway as quickly as their denim-clad legs could take them. Lightening flashed dramatically and it started to rain, which might have sent me into a fit of giggles at any other time. I mean, how cliché can you get? But I didn't laugh, even though I thought the whole scene rather ridiculous. Oriya didn't look ridiculous in the slightest and this was partly the reason that I could not bring myself to deride the situation. He had an expression on his face as though something rather unpleasant smelling had just wafted under his nose. His beautiful form was revealed in that flash of light and then as darkness returned, he had disappeared. I blinked, wondering if I was hallucinating but the four guys appeared to be as stunned as I was. They looked around nervously as I slipped my glasses off to slowly rub the lenses with the hem of Oriya's upper yukata piece, fitting them back on when I was sure that there were no smears upon the surface that were obscuring anything. I was more stunned by the fact that my glasses had survived my beating. As I slid them back up over my nose, I happened to glance up, my vision blurry anyway from the drug's effect. But I could clearly see Oriya's veiled shadow drop down behind the four assailants, as though he had fallen from the sky above. He landed as lightly as falling paper and in another flash of light, made his presence known to those he had blocked from escape. Out of it as I was, I can't say for sure what he did to them. But had I been in my right state of mind, I doubted that even then I would have been able to make sense of his frenzied movements. The flash of lightening held the scene in context for barely five seconds time and the second it died away, Oriya had left all four men unconscious on the alleyway floor. As far as I could tell, he had not bruised, nor bloodied a single one of them. It looked as though he had broken a few teeth and a limb or two here and there but for the most, it was undoubtedly the most remarkable display of combating prowess I had ever seen. I didn't know of anything, anything, that could move that fast. He was even better than he had been that night when he'd fought against Hisoka.

Had he been holding back? He certainly hadn't been against these men, so our first meeting had perhaps been more telling than any of us had ever guessed.

I listened as Oriya spat on the nasty men's prone forms and then he was making his way back down the alleyway towards me, his expression twisted and indefinable. I managed to haul myself to my feet, like an unsteady newborn foal and staggered towards Oriya arms outstretched in the savvy semblance of some bad movie zombie.
"Thank God…" I sobbed, thinking that if I wasn't prepared to spend the rest of eternity in Oriya's debt, then I certainly was now. "Oriya thank you… I didn't think anyone was going to help me…" Sobbing, I moved to embrace him but received the shock of my life instead as Oriya flinched away from me as though my touch were contemptible and then a blinding pain assaulted my scraped left cheek. He had moved so quickly I hadn't even seen him do it but it would seem that he had slapped me. Dumbfounded, I stumbled back and went down hard, shock registering throughout my senses. "Oriya…?" I whimpered, nursing my face. "Oriya why!"

Oriya's face was creased heavily with pain. He showed the palm of one hand in my direction, to ward off my words as though he couldn't bear to hear them, his second hand glazed across his expression. He told me later, that this was often what he did in an attempt to keep himself from crying. Even then, I realized almost instantly, that Oriya was not truly angry, just scared shitless. What he had witnessed must have brought him to mind of his girls and what it was they must have suffered through. Not to mention the fact that I had very nearly met the same fate. Oriya is not gentle in fear.

"Son of a bitch!" He cursed. Well… sobbed. "You fucking idiot! You know, I'm not one to usually curse but I have lost my temper! I hope you're fucking pleased with yourself now!"

I crawled away from him, unable to tolerate his screaming upon my stinging ears. I found my jacket, underwear and trousers, managing to slide them on with much difficulty. I then pulled myself over to the wall and desperately fished my good hand inside of my pocket and retrieved the packet of cigarettes I had bought earlier. I used them as an excuse to stand outside and join in people's conversations at the club, though I'm not a smoker and tobacco frankly makes me rather sick. As stressed out as I was right then, I felt as though I could use one, if only to find some divergence from the frightened, furious Oriya, who was staring at me with a blurry expression I had hoped to never see. The only emotion even worse then that raw primal fear was pity.

"Where do you get off yelling at me like that…" I wondered softly, prying the lid back off of the cigarette box with fingers that weren't altogether steady. "I'm sorry that you came here and offered me your stinking help then, if this is the way you're going to be treating me. It's not as though I asked you to interfere." The irony of course being that I had in fact silently begged Oriya for help.

Oriya's whole body was shaking, as though it had been him in my shoes rather than the other way around. His brows were bowed in the center, alluding to his fear and distress. "You've got to be kidding me! Do you want to end up like my girls! Goddammit, what kind of idiot game are you playing at? Do you know what those men would have done to you if I hadn't turned up? Huh!"

"Wouldn't be the first time…" I said, chuckling a little bitterly as I pried a cigarette out of the packet and lit it with fingers that couldn't stop trembling. Oriya's lip curled, which meant that he was annoyed. I'd gotten pretty good at reading him, so much so that I could do it even in an altered state of consciousness.

"Oh, sure. Why not destroy your lungs as well as whatever's left of your brain?"

I sneered at him, suddenly finding that I positively loathed him at that moment, every single thing about him, down to the stupid flat way his hair hung on his head in the rain.

"Oh, like you're really one to talk, Oriya. Who are you to just waltz on up and give me a lecture like you can suddenly tell the difference between good and bad?"

"This is not about me, Yutaka." He growled, stepping even closer, his sandaled feet splashing against the puddles starting to form on the bloodied concrete. "This is about you and your lack of professionalism. I have a handful of murders on my hands and I've trusted you to perform the job I have asked of you. After everything that has happened, you go out and get drunk on the job? Look at you! You can't even hold that cigarette still! Frankly, I find your lack of decorum completely disgusting-"

"Disgusting? Disgusting!" I shrieked, quite unable to comprehend what it was that I was hearing.

"Disgusting." Oriya repeated, without the hint of expression on his face. The face I suddenly couldn't stand the sight of. I struggled to my feet, dropping the cigarette box into a puddle and wasting every single last lovely stick of cancer. My head swooned as I rocked back and forth on my heels, trying to speak determinedly but failing dismally, on account of my slurred stutter.

"And this is… coming from the guy who is best friends with a freakin' psychopath, who-who-who who rapes and-and murders and ruins lives without a sh-econd glance! Why am I disgusting! You cover up for this guy! And you don't deny it! What you do is disgusting, mister, and it's as though you're… content with that!"

Oriya took this in his stride and nodded at each accusation I leveled at him with much dignity. That was not what I wanted from him at that moment. I wanted to see some semblance of pain, to see that I had hurt him as I had been hurt, even if it solved nothing.

"You're right." He said congenially, moving even closer to my swaying, inebriated self which wanted nothing more than to lob its cigarette into its approaching savior's left eye. "You're right, what I do is disgusting but the difference between you and I, is that I do not deny my onus of responsibility. What I do is very real and very immoral and very disgusting. But I'm not running from it. I'm not running myself to ruins trying to cover my pain with more pain. I have asked you to do a job for me, a very serious job and if you can't handle that – If you're going to give me your… your…" He spat the next words out as though he had been choking on them for some time. Perhaps he had. "-sweet sympathies, your tears, your drunken rambling and expect me to run around coddling and baby-sitting you, well then you can march right on back to the Ministry and send me another Guardian. One who isn't a complete basket case. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

I could feel the tears coming to my eyes again. My heart was all but broken at his words. Was that what he had thought of me the whole time I'd been in Kokakuro? Was I nothing more than a liability to him? A nutcase who couldn't do anything right? It was the same everywhere I went, wasn't it?

"I'm not a complete basket case, Oriya!" I cried, slumping back against the alleyway wall and inhaling so hard on my cigarette that I nearly sucked it back into my lungs. I choked on the smoke as I regurgitated it violently. "I'm the only one who isn't!"

He didn't seem convinced and this made my chest hurt even harder. "Then why have you been crying over these girls that you don't even know? Why are you taking stupid, dangerous risks, like tonight? Why are you punishing yourself with alcohol and violence and allowing your body to be treated like garbage?"

All the while Oriya was talking, I was pleading with him, hands clasped over my ears until the point came that I could take it no longer. "Please, please, please, please please please please please please please please please please please please please please JUST STOP!" I screamed, surging forward on a tidal wave of emotions and whacking my hands against Oriya's broad chest, dropping the cigarette in my expressive haste. "You don't understand!" I implored desperately. "This job… I'm not running… I was working every second… I… you don't understand…"

Oriya's voice was soft, sullen. Beautiful. "What am I supposed to understand?" He asked, taking my hands in his and lifting them away from his chest. "All I see is a drunken idiot."

My eyes welled up with hot tears as my body at last reached the end of its physical restraint. With a harsh kick in the depths of my stomach, I became violently ill, pulling away from Oriya just in time and vomiting painfully against the wall, catching my hair and trousers in the process. I started to sob, holding my face in one hand. Never before did I think that my emotional pain, could overrule any physical agony but that night, they were one in the same. I hadn't thrown up because of what had happened, because of the drug, because I was drunk. Until that moment, I'd been able to keep it under control. Oriya's words, his dismissive touch had broken my last shred of mental constraint and I had lost it completely.

"I feel awful… I said, speaking in a very small voice. As small as I felt, standing before that perfect, dignified man who had probably never thrown up on an alleyway wall in his entire life. He'd probably never had a reason to go into an alleyway in his life, if it weren't for me and my lousy stinking investigation skills. "I'm sorry… so… so sorry… please don't yell at me anymore… it hurts so much I can't stand it." I held a hand over my heart, showing just where it hurt. "I'm not a bad person! I'm just in a bad place… Oh Oriya, please…"

Oriya didn't seem prepared to take mercy on me anytime soon. I guess he wanted me to fully understand just how serious it was, not that I needed any further reminding. "What I need you to understand that when you are in my home you follow my rules. No one is to leave Kokakuro alone, not in this dangerous time. I didn't make that rule just to be a hard-ass, believe it or not. And the last thing any of us need is for you to bring trouble back to us. You have a very big responsibility to me, to the girls and to your job. You can't afford to behave this way. Taking shortcuts. It's foolish."

Emotional pain lashed through my body unlike anything that had ever afflicted me. There was no greater shame in the world then somebody you cared for and admired, looking upon you with disappointment. Both my mind and mentality were twisted so thoroughly beyond general comprehension that I was barely able to process where it was that I was standing. But I could still hear every single word Oriya was leveling at me. The worse thing was, I knew what he was saying was true. I'd made a foolish, stupid mistake. I was an idiot and I hated that Oriya had cut straight through every one of my defenses and seen me at my weakest. My most vulnerable, hated, inner core. The part of me I wanted positively no one to witness, especially not a person I had come to find myself caring for, maybe even love. I tugged my glasses off and slapped my mangled fingers over my eyes as I started to cry, the pain only increasing the weight and density of my tears. I'd ruined it. Everything that Oriya might have felt for me in the evening, I had just allowed to be quashed by my own stupidity. How could he even stand looking at me when I was so dirty? When I was so… weak…

Then he spoke once again and this time his voice was so soft. So gentle but so sad at the same time. Was it possible that he was… sad… for me? Oh, I didn't deserve such pity.

"Oh… no, Cher… Don't cry." He whispered, voice cracking like a brittle shell beneath a cruel weight. "… I'm not angry. I was just worried about you. If you wanted to question people then you should have asked me to go with you."

My guts clenched in upon itself again and in a hot, horrible rush I started to vomit again, the aftertaste making me sob harder in helpless desperation. "Uh! … uhg… I… I didn't wanna bother you…" I groaned, gagging and sobbing on my words, bent over in half, with my good hand braced against the alleyway wall.

"Would have been less of a bother than this situation here, don't you think?"

"… You're right. I'm sorry…" I managed to choke out, hugging my aching stomach tightly as I regurgitated again, retching on the burning liquid and wanting to scream from the hopelessness I felt. "Jesus Christ, what's wrong with me…that drink was drugged! Doesn't help that I was drunk to begin with…" I added as an afterthought.

This was apparently news to Oriya. I think he had been under the suspicion that I was throwing up because I was thoroughly geezied. "You think you were drugged?" His voice indicated disbelief. Negotiable disbelief but still predominate incredulity.

"Those guys forced something down my throat…" I wiped my dripping mouth off on my jacket sleeve, managing to straighten up a little and face my employer, internally begging him for one of either two things; either to smash me back into the concrete and exact the beating of which I was most deserving, or to take me in his arms and make my sickness go away. Anything would have been better than this indecisive nonchalance that bound him to the shadows beyond my capacity of comprehension.

"Oriya… thank you for coming here to find me." I whispered through the aching inflammation of my throat. "But… even when I was calling for you in my mind… at the same time, I was kind of hoping you wouldn't find me. That way… I could get what I deserved."

Oriya finally conceded to shaking loose the tendrils of darkness and he stepped up close to me, placing one strong, nurturing hand against my shoulder. A hand that he swore could never treat me with malicious nature. A hand that despite this promise had struck my face. However, despite the scrupulous specifications of his pledge, I could not find it in myself to fear his touch any more than I could fear the man himself. There was no way that these hands could have… could have-

"You didn't deserve that. No matter what you think." He said, voice soft, thumb stroking against the rounded curve of my shoulder, in paternal sympathy. My blood flushed cold ice when I registered the tone of his voice as the expenditure of pity, something I never wanted from anyone. I shrugged his hand free, averting my eyes so that I acquired the courage to say what needed to be said. Fortunately, my intoxication helped in this deliverance.

"I've always deserved that. I've always brought my own misery upon myself!" I whimpered, sobbing openly into my bloodied, crumbled hands. Oriya clucked his tongue impatiently.

"Oh, come on now, that can't be true. You're not a bad person, you said so yourself." I lifted my face, sobs jiving through my clenched teeth and almost fainting from the undeserved compassion Oriya extended towards me, when his hand caressed my scraped, stinging cheek. "There's nothing mean about you in the slightest… you're so… sweet… and kind… You make me smile for absolutely no reason…"

I looked into his eyes, shocked. I couldn't believe that I was hearing this. That… I had managed to make Oriya smile… the only gift I could give to him that cost no money but was worth more than anything in the world. Smiles are free. And he was smiling in that dark alleyway. A sad smile but it was genuine pleasure from a memory he had preserved of me. I was so happy, I could have cried all over again.

"I make you smile?" I whispered, unconsciously leaning into him.

"Yeah…" He said, nodding as he placed his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me close to his body. He was all around me now and I was safe again; cosseted from the world that hurt me, just as I had been earlier that evening in his bed. Our moment in that alleyway was so embarrassingly candid. I believe Oriya allowed himself the luxury of being honest with me because of my intoxication. If he was hoping that I would forget his words by the following morning however, he was in for a rude shock. I would never forget those generous, beautiful words for as long as my eternity lasted. "Yutaka… I feel happy when I'm with you… even in times like this when you would think that there was nothing to be happy about."

I realized of course that this couldn't be what he really felt at all and berated myself for believing it, if only for a momentary second of weakness. Nobody, and especially not someone who had as much going for him as Oriya did, could look at me and not be disgusted. Oriya was a kind soul… he pitied me because of my ordeal. That was all.

I tried to pull away, mild panic setting in when Oriya's arms didn't lessen their hold on me. I pushed against his chest, sniffing and whimpering my protest, which wasn't powerfully conducive in any means to encouraging the expiration of his touch.

"No… don't pity me…" I insisted, surrendering to his strength, which was so much greater than my own, broken from the application of the drug. I hoped that he at least heeded my words as my arms folded against his chest, his own tight around my back and shoulders as he rocked me gently, uttering 'Shhh…' in a soothing, breathless whisper. "Oriya, don't you understand? The last thing I want is for you to pity me… or be disgusted by me. I've made some stupid choices in my existence. But I'm not a stupid person. If I am to accept everything that you expect of me, then you must understand in return, that I am not capable of being strong indefinitely…"

His hand swayed down through my hair and I tried again to pull away from him, remembering that there was vomit strewn throughout it. But Oriya wouldn't release me.

"Yutaka, you're drunk. You don't need to say anymore." He offered generously.

I knew that I shouldn't have had to explain myself but there was an equally, if not louder part that wanted Oriya to hear my excuses anyway. If it didn't spare my respect, then I at least wanted him to understand why it was that I, perky, happy, energetic Yutaka Watari, was so damn miserable as of late. He at least needed to know that, so he could not accuse me of being a fruit basket. I forced myself to focus, finally succeeding in procuring a fraction of space between my body and Oriya's. He kept a firm hold on my shoulders, to help steady me and I was grateful for his kindness, though I knew I didn't deserve to stand in front of him at that moment. I was so much lower than him, so much less of a human being, I should have been back on my belly in the puddles of the alley, chewing dirt clods.

"No. No, you hear me." I demanded, with as much power I could muster out of my inebriated self. I was already swooning; seconds away from falling asleep. This was more important however, so my body was just going to have to push past its limitations. "Listen. This is the only time I will ever have the balls to say it." I looked into his eyes, hoping that this might ensure his attention was focused entirely on my words but thought it might have been the wrong thing to do, when he started chewing his lip in anger. He was taking in my multiple facial injuries and clearly didn't like what he was seeing. "Believe me, I have tried…" I paused, chuckling in bitter exasperation of the impending confession. Words that had gagged and bound me for so many years, were now going to finally reveal themselves in a drugged slash drunken stupor. Why is it that we can only muster courage at our weakest moments? "… to spend every single day with a smile on my face. The sun in my eyes… a laugh in my voice. I don't have the time to entertain any melancholy that I might feel. Everyone else in the Ministry has so much pain in their pasts… so much hurt and they need someone to help them smile. So that person is me. That's all I can really do for them." I sniffed to combat my running nose and restrained myself from wiping it on my sleeve. "I'm in no way special. Because they have that awful sorrow, they have hope for having it alleviated. When you hide it… day after day… I guess I never thought of having someone help me heal up, y'know? I don't have that… But then again if we all did, people like Tsuzuki and the kid wouldn't be so special." I sniffed again and a tear rolled down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away, hoping that Oriya hadn't seen it. I was sick of crying in front of him. Fed up and sick of it. "All I can really do for them is what they expect of me. To keep on smiling."

I sniffed a third time and felt my face crumble with pain, delivering my final words through the premature waver that precedes tears. "People want the light and they shun the darkness. You can't see anything in the dark, unless of course your eyes adapt to it. And no one wants to spend so long in the dark that they learn to see in it. That's why those that live in darkness wander aimlessly. But I'm fifty years of existence… I died at twenty-eight years old, I lost my wife to my selfishness and then watched her waste away in a hospital bed fighting a battle everyone knew she would lose… not to mention…" I snapped down hard on my lips, knowing that if I were to divulge any more to Oriya, that I would never be able to survive my despair that night. I left that sentence severed and incomplete, rounding off my self-pitying ramble at that which had instigated it in the first place. "And all they expect of me is to smile. If only they knew how hard that really is…"

Oriya cupped my face, his expression fierce. I thought for one dreadful moment that I had angered him with my conceited baloney but I was mistaken. Through the smudged indentations of my vision, I was finally able to differentiate that his face held not fury but a fierce and powerful pride.

"No matter what you might say to the contrary…" He whispered, his face so close to mine that I wondered if it were possible that he might melt into me. Intoxicated as I was, Oriya's face resembled mixed watercolors. "I think that makes you really special."

I scoffed, not meaning to sound rude but not believing him for a second either. "No it doesn't. You're just saying that because you think it's what I want to hear."

"Yutaka…" Oriya's thumbs stroked up and down my face, so warm and comforting. "Do you honestly think for one second that I am the type of man who would lie to spare a person's feelings?" He paused as he moved closer, gently touching his lips to the shell of my ear and I shivered at the feeling of wetness against my temple, the place whereupon he rested his sheathed left eye. Unshed tears… for me… "… Cher, if you weren't so special… would you have fought for twenty-two years to keep on smiling for them?"

He had justified me.

My face twisted in grief, having nothing left to either defend myself or deny his words. The fight had withered within the depths of my soul and all I wanted at that moment, selfish as it may be, was to despair in his arms and be taken away from the dreadful place I had come to find myself in. Revealing that remarkable knack of knowing what it was that I needed, Oriya pulled my shaking, lamenting body against his own. I dug my fingernails into the folds of his yukata and he held me tightly as I cried into his shoulder. Perfectly reminiscent of our very first day together, when we had shared our tears on the deck of Kokakuro.

"Don't go out on your own without me anymore, you hear?" Oriya murmured, rocking me back and forth gently, his chin resting atop my head as we swayed. "Ask me… and I'll go with you to the ends of the earth."

"Oriya…" I breathed, so in love I could barely stand it.

"Shhh… There, there now… everything will be all right." He said, fingers raking through my tangled, messy, blood bequeathed hair with succinct tenderness. "You just made a little mistake. A mistake I believe everyone is guilty of more than once or twice in their life."

"I was so… afraid…" I whimpered, pressing my face so hard into Oriya's chest that my glasses started cutting into my face. It was a while before he answered and his voice was so soft, so hesitant in its premature admittance that one could not doubt the validity of his words. Understanding this as I did, no matter what state I was in, was enough to effectively halt my heart.

"So was I… I was scared shitless I was going to lose you…"

I gasped softly, glancing up and trying to detect any presence of fraudulence. There was only empathy. Such kindness. As our eyes met, Oriya raised my left hand and examined it, clenching his eyes shut momentarily and hissing between his teeth in sympathy. "Oh, darling… look at your hand…" He murmured, pressing his lips against the buckled rows of my fingers, applying only enough pressure for the touch to register. Not enough to activate my pain sensors.

'Oriya… you're too good for me… You're so wonderful…' I thought, pulling back from him suddenly as a very unsettling ultimatum came to my bungled brain. "Oriya… I can't possibly go back to Kokakuro like this. I don't want the girls to see me…"

Oriya smiled as he rubbed my upper arms to restore the feeling, dispensing a small kiss against my stinging forehead. "Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to. No one will think badly of you. I wager that the girls are in bed by this hour."

Another sob burst up through my body and I buried my face into the crook of his neck, wondering how I could ever possibly repay Oriya's kindness and his acceptance. He had every right to fire me and I knew that. I wouldn't have blamed him. But Oriya was going to make an exception. He cared for me, even though I had caused him nothing but trouble and pain. And all I could give him in return, was a smile.

Little did I know however, was that in a world prolonged within darkness, a smile is all one ever needs to adapt to the darkness.

I guess for that, Oriya considered us even.

"Well, then…" I said, lifting my ruddy, make-up stained face from Oriya's (now-rather-in-need-of-wash) yukata and forcing a smile onto my lips. "In that case… turn me around and point me in the direction of home. I'm tired and I want to go to bed!"

Oriya smiled back, melting in all uncanny semblance of a big hunky ice-cream cone. He may have looked like a honeycomb crunch on the outside but Oriya was really nothing more than a soft serve on the inside.

"Oh, you poor darling. You're so ill, aren't you?" I nodded weakly against his chest. "Everything will be fine. I'll take care of you." As though he hadn't proved himself chivalrous enough, Oriya suddenly took it upon himself to hook his arm beneath my knees and lift me into his arms, like a blood and bruise covered bride being carried over the threshold. I may have been sick, drugged, sore, upset, dazed and weak but at that moment, in Oriya's arms, it was nothing short of Heaven. "Won't be a fun ride for you though. The only vehicle I own is a motorbike, cause of my leg see? It was a bitch riding it here in a yukata… People kept staring." No doubt because the wind kept blowing his yukata up in a most immodest way, ensuring resulting nosebleeds in the process. "We'll manage though, won't we?"

I nodded tiredly, snuggling in close to him and wrapping my arms around his neck to keep my weight stationary. Though I knew that there wasn't the slightest chance in Hell that Oriya would drop me. Putting my arms about his neck just seemed the romantic thing to do. Who was I to deny impulse? "

"Thank you…" I told him, closing my eyes in exhaustion as Oriya knelt to retrieve the half of his yukata that he had originally thrown across me and using it now to wrap around my shaking body. He couldn't seem to understand that the warmth of his body was more than enough to soothe my racing shivers. "You know… they say karma always comes back to bite you in the ass. … I never should have laughed at Tsuzuki whenever the Count or Muraki molested him. Left chained up and naked… so it may have seemed funny at the time but if tonight's little lesson has taught me anything, it is that you do not laugh at your friends when they are in scary, embarrassing situations, because you wouldn't want them to laugh at you if the sock was on the other foot!"

"You know, for an inebriated, drunk you certainly have no trouble getting the words out. Y'know?" Oriya said, his tone teasing. He smiled down at me when I blew a raspberry in witty riposte and turned on his heel to carry me down the alleyway, coming to an abrupt halt instead.

"Oriya?" I asked, registering his mortified expression. His face had gone oddly pale, eyes protruding slightly. A white ring had appeared around his mouth, as though he were biting his cheek from the inside. I jerkily followed his gaze, noting the way his arms trembled slightly beneath my body. The light rain made it even more difficult to see but a most fortunate (not to mention, expectedly stereotypical) flash of lightening abruptly lit up the alleyway and Oriya and I could only stare in mortification at what lay between us and the street beyond.

The men he knocked unconscious were all lying in a pile, whence before they had been strewn about at odd, unconscious angles. At least… I'm positive that Oriya had only knocked them out. It was certainly beyond his capacity to exact upon them, the hopefully post-mortem injuries that the brilliant flash of light exhibited for us. I say hopefully, because no one alive should have had to suffer through what these men had endured, whilst Oriya and I had been speaking. Their features have been completely eviscerated, limbs severed and arteries strewn about like gnarled strings, leaking pools of already drying vitae into gleaming stains across the cement. It was impossible. Impossible. Oriya and I had been standing at the far end of the alleyway, not ten feet from where he had left my attackers. Admittedly, we had not paid much attention to them but I think Oriya, who can detect a bloody spider crawling out of a tiny hole in the wall, would have noticed someone coming up the alley and severing five men into bloody pieces. For that is what had been done. Their bodies were basically ripped open, intestines spilling out from their stomachs and even out through their mouths, eyeballs carved out and blood coating everything. All this had been done in silence. Absolute, phenomenal silence.

No one… no one could have… it just wasn't possible.

Oriya dry heaved and started to back up, turning his body sideways so that he drew me away from the sight, when a second flash of lightening illuminated a figure standing atop the pile. A figure that hadn't been there seconds earlier. I couldn't make out many details, being half-blind, bloodied and buggered for that matter, but what I could see, was that the figure appeared to be a young girl. Her legs were bare and she was coated in blood and gore, grasping two spongy, dripping bundles in each fist. As Oriya stood there, no doubt horrified into petrifaction, the girl tilted back her head and shrieked with laughter, clasped the bloodied handfuls beneath her chin gleefully.

"What-?" Oriya finally managed to say. His voice trembled, feet tangling around his opposing ankles as he attempted to back away from the horrible, horrible scene. He was still trying to keep his body between mine and the crazy bitch standing atop the corpse castle, but that was near to impossible if he was hoping to remain facing forward at the same time.

The girl stopped laughing so suddenly, it seemed as though she literally pressed an off switch. She lowered her dark face, obscured in silhouette and finally conceded to looking us over. Her eyes came to rest on Oriya and she emitted a happy little gasp that somehow managed to convey her already confirmed expectations.

"Can it be…? Well… I'll be damned!" She laughed at her own little pun and I too understood the nature of her gag, realizing slower than I might have under normal circumstances that she was in fact a demon. "At first I wasn't sure whether we would have the chance to meet tonight. What name are you going by now, Michael?"

"You killed them…" Oriya stated, paying no mind to what she called him. It weighed on my mind for only a second and then I too, had dismissed it.

"Figured I did you a favor." She replied casually, sifting the blooded lump in her right hand and examining it with such interest as I might have one of my inventions. "They outlived their usefulness, anyway. All I needed was for them to make a little point." Her eyes flared a yellow fire from the darkness and it was directed at me. "I think Mr. Watari got it, didn't you, my petal?"

I groaned deliriously, trying against all probability to stay awake. "So… you were the pretty girl they talked about?"

She chuckled benignly from the darkness, her feet making nauseating squishing sounds as she adjusted her weight atop the corpses. "Hmm… seems my drug did the job it was supposed to. Angels' blood is a fairly safe bet against you sickening little Guardians of Death… Let's see how it fares instigating the necessary quotation. It should have made you weak enough to tell by now."

A hand extended out of the darkness and I heard the sharp, almost acrylic snap of two fingers sliding brashly from one another.

"Show me your soul…" She hissed, snakelike and a blinding hot pain suddenly knifed its way into the lower disks of my spine. It moved deep into my body, like a corkscrew and at the same time, boiling hot tendrils seemed to burn to life across my skin. For one bare second, I saw lines rise up from beneath the wall of flesh in my hand, the same lines I had originally seen upon Hisoka's body. The very same marks! The marks that Muraki had given him! Muraki's curse was on me! Hysterical, I started to slap at my injured hand, only making the agony escalate to a point where it became unbearable. Oriya jostled me in his hold, unable to do any more to calm me. The marks were sinking back down, disappearing but I had an awful, sneaking suspicion that they weren't so much leaving me, as they were settling in.

The woman's hand lowered and she sounded very smug when next she spoke.

"So, Mitkiel was correct. You are the Fifth. Number 24. This is good news… The Shukusatsu may finally be completed…"

"Withering…?" Oriya translated, pulling me into his body as tightly as possible, face creased furiously at the bloodstained dame, blocking our road back to the safety of home. "Were you the one that drugged him?"

Laughter from the shadow. "Guilty is as guilty does, big boy. Wanna make me sorry? Come up here on my little mountain of horrors and feel free to get acquainted. Keep in mind however, that a real gentleman wouldn't lay a hand on a lady."

Oriya parted his lips to reply but a familiar, brazenly twangy accented voice interrupted him from behind where the demon stood.

"That should be no problem then, considering what you are."

She glanced over her shoulder at the figure standing, silhouetted in light from the passing cars. I didn't need to look, to feel the cord tightening across the Acasual space ways and know that it was my summons that had finally come to my aid. Not to mention that there isn't another person alive who talks like that.

"Ichibana…?" I called weakly, looking over to see the djinni's short, blurred form, wobbling around in the light from the far side of the alley. He was either drunk, or I was going down very hard. Hardly surprising. I had a cacophony of head injuries, not to mention everything else that had happened. "What took you so long…?" I tried to ask angrily but my croaky voice did a shitty job of conveying it.

Ichibana at least sounded apologetic. "My apologies, boss, but I got a little tangled up in what I choose to believe was some sort of demonic candy-cane and once I got free… well, they did a right nice job on m' essence. I was havin' a hard time trackin' you! Like there was some kind of interference. Anyway, I was followin' this one to start with. Thought that she rang a few bells… then I saw her face-"

"And now you're a believer?" The she-demon asked, in a cool but severely unimpressed tone of voice. Ichibana isn't exactly the sort of creature that strikes fear into the hearts of people. Call it the feminine features. Call it the accent or the purple nails. Call it the crazy dress sense. But really, it all comes down to the contradictory tough guy stance he imposed, which more often than not failed him miserably during a fight. Not that I'm one to talk, mind…

Ichibana ignored the woman's jibes and glanced around her amiably, as though the small mountain of corpses at her feet was a sight he was not altogether unfamiliar with. I must admit, this worried me a little.

"I'm kinda glad you didn't want me ta come to this club with ye after all, boss! Lax security from the looks o' things. Where the hell are the bouncers? Not underneath tha' lot, are they?"

The female demon faltered as though only just remembering something. "Oh, you mean the guys who wouldn't let me in?" She giggled. "Yes, of course how rude of me. I didn't even introduce you. Come, say hello to the nice fellows, don't be shy." At this, she extended both hands out, displaying the bloodied pulp occupying each palm. Oriya made an uncomfortable noise in his throat and I, too, was forced to swallow down a rather meaty gag. "Of course, they were a little more handsome when I first met them… I do wish I could have tidied them up a bit more for you, but alas, this was all I could get together on such short notice. I think this one here in my right hand is Tonako and this in the left… no wait, I think this bit here is Tonako… oh dear, I seem to have gotten some of their parts mixed up- if you'd excuse me for just a moment..."

I never got to find out if the she-demon managed to put old Humpty Tonako and his bouncer buddy back together again. Call me crazy but after the pounding I had endured only twenty minutes earlier, I felt as though I had exceeded my excitement quota for one night. Hence, it was enough of an excuse to finally surrender my wearisome senses and darkness finally found me, there in that blood-stained alley, within the arms of a mortal, whose only weapons against the encroaching bloodstained little horror were his martial arts training and my playboy imp.

Sometimes a smile just isn't enough. Not by a long shot.

-EC-

Watari: Awww! Poor me! (Huggles self) What's going to happen? I'm so worried!

Muraki: Oh, would you shut up, Mary Sue?

Watari: (Gasps) What did you call me!

Muraki: You know perfectly well what I called you. Don't act all innocent and pretend you're not the most favored character in this story.

Watari: (Splutters) Did you not just see what NaPap did to me?

NaPap: (Laughs evilly from her perch upon the cloud) Oh, how I love to be malevolent! No character is safe from my dark influence! Who shall suffer next? What horror shall befall our four heroes? In the next addition of Dark Adaptation, we return to Tokyo and drop in on our favorite star crossed lovers Muraki and Tsuzuki, who are about to receive a creepy visit all their own! Who will it be? A demon? A monster? Some unholy wretch from the bowels of Hell? Or even the Count? Find out next time, when Dark Adaptation returns!

Oriya: (Sweatdrops) Sure toots, endorse your own fic. It's not as though your head could possibly get any bigger…

Tsuzuki: Don't say that! She'll only try to prove you wrong… (Wags tail) Please review readers! I know we can't do reviewer reviews anymore but that doesn't mean we don't want to hear from you! So please, don't forget us!

(All characters put on soppy, kawaii expressions. Muraki tries but just ends up looking scary as per usual)