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

26. Tsuzuki: Death Precedes us

Dark Adaptation

Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei is the property of Yoko Matsushita, not the property of NaPap. And don't think I'm not suing!

A/N: Sorry about the delay folks! Working full time and the like takes up a lot of – well, time! So I hope you can forgive me! Now, before we get into the meaty center of the story, there are a couple of notations I must make.

First, this is only part one of Tsuzuki's installation and it is so humongous, that I haven't yet written the second part! Which is a shame, because the second part is the fucking lemon!

Muraki: Bitch! I stab you!

If I had a dollar for every person who ever said that to me… the second note I must make, is that some severe editing has gone into the earlier chapters of DA and some parts of the plot have been changed around completely. It is nothing that you need to go back over but I thought it would be a good idea to let my lovely readers know, just in case they were interested. The third point I must make is extremely important because it concerns me directly. (That was sarcastic somewhat). Aye, I have decided that after all these years of being NaPap, I am changing my frame.

Tsuzuki: Thank Christ! Because, no offense or anything but that name really sucked.

Yes, thankyou very much, Tsuzuki. N e way readers, the reason I am changing from frame is because of the history I have with the first one and it wasn't really me that wanted to use that frame in the first place. It was sort of decided for me. But now, I want to use a name that I actually picked and liked and has a certain meaning for me. So, you may now all refer to me by the non de plume Hickock.

Watari: Why Hickock? Do you live in Abilene or something?

No… but Abilene is the second name I chose for myself when all the Catholic folks got to pick their new middle names. Thus, Hickock. Plus, it was also the nickname my favorite character from Blood Games, my all time beloved Laymon novel, called the main character. Now, enough about that. I'll try desperately to get the second half of Tsuzuki's addition up as quickly as possible. (I had better or I think Jollyolly's going to go Hitler on my ass, to say the least). That being said, I do hope you all enjoy but there are some warnings I must impress upon you before we get started.

This chapter contains particularly bad language and some extremely disturbing scenes. Almost moreso than anything I have written thus far. If you are particularly queasy or easily disturbed, I might steer clear from the third quarter of this chapter. I can't say where exactly because it will ruin the plot. But a fair warning; it is not very nice.

All right, enough of that pish, on ya go. Happy reading!

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes." Macbeth -Act IV scene 1.

Death Precedes us with a Knowing Smile

Part One: The Serpent that devours Sorrow

"One of the most terrifying phenomena is the human mind gone mad. But what is madness? And what is sanity? Is reality as we perceive it or as something else entirely – something beyond our wildest nightmares?" – Stephen King on the novelette 'Come and go mad' by Frederic Brown.

Tsuzuki

The mind is mad. Perhaps my mind madder than most but the full extremity of the mind itself is startling to behold, if we are to say the very least. There are no boundaries to the mind. It can change you completely. Can morph your body in ways you never imagined possible. The mind can sink you and raise you and devour you entirely. It can abduct your senses and fabricate a non-reality, something that seems so real you have no choice but to believe what you are being confronted with.

The mind can sometimes shelter you. Hide you in shadow, nurse you in mothering arms, submerge your fears. In your mind, the labyrinths are vast and to traverse them more treacherous than any true adventure upon which the physical body might embark.

The mind is the ultimate super power. Within your mind, anything is feasible. And madness is perhaps the greatest poison of all.

There is a saying. In Latin. "Amantes sunt amentes". It means; Lovers are mad. No doubt Muraki and I could be well applied to such an analogy. But are all lovers not mad in their own unique fashion? Is it not a despairing madness to love so passionately, you cannot escape from the sensation? That the guilt of such yearning could consume the entirety of your essence, pervade your common sense and dictate every minor manner of deed that you embark upon. When in love, when one is a lover, that second person, your loved one, is always present in your mind, if not in your physical presence. Such is the dramatic power of the human mind. Omniscient to the one to whom it belongs. It is the God of the individual. The governing presence.

I read a short horror story in a magazine once. The name of the author escapes me but the title of the piece is distressingly clear. "Come. Come and go mad." The main character, a reporter, infiltrates an asylum to uncover the truth behind the treatment of the patients. He poses as a madman himself and is gradually brought under such scrutiny from the presiding doctors that he begins to question his own sanity. Is this a trap? Did his boss actually intend to have him institutionalized, under the guise of an investigation? He begins to think on other issues. He considers things too deeply. He fractures his mind and gradually cracks it wide open. He understands the truth of life itself and learning the meaning of life, is far too encompassing for the fragile human mind to understand.

"Where am I going?" The man asks.

"Insane." The voice answers. But is the voice his own? Is it someone, or something else? Who can say? Does a madman know that he is insane? I can say with certainty that he does not. I realized the devastating trauma to my mind and hence my body, suffering from the continuous onslaught of my cruel and weak mind. But I believed only that I was severely sick, suffering from devastating depression. I didn't know much of anything at the time. I was so doped up on drugs and my own toxic misery; I had few precious moments of rationalization. Many times had that urge overwhelmed me and I ached to free myself from my wretched never-ending existence.

This short story theorized that when the human mind encroaches the entire truth, whatever that truth might be defined as, it physically cannot rise above the summit. People who came to that stage instead evolve towards a quiet creeping madness. Hence the reason for that saying; 'A genius is one step away from a madman.' And then the novelette ends with the provoking words; "It doesn't matter. Don't you understand? Nothing matters!"

That story had frightened me. I remember clearly setting the magazine aside, sinking my head down into my hands and quietly weeping in mourning for how those fleeting eight years of insanity had consumed the entirety of my existence, ever since I had opened my wrists. Since dying, my life had been saved. I felt that I had been spared something. Had escaped, found the easy way out. But my internal self-opinion hadn't been much better.

One thing I have come to understand better than anyone else is just how fragile the human mind truly is. Our thoughts, our sanity and our peace of mind are as delicate as porcelain, swept astray as freely as a feather from the precarious tip of a cliff. It can happen in a second, a fleeting moment. In the blink of an eye, your entire frame of mind can shatter to a thousand pieces and some of these shards can slip away into darkness, never recovered. Never remembered. Forever lost.

The mind is a delicate, precious thing. It is cowardly and when eventually broken it totters on unsteady legs for the rest of its' days. The mind despairs and betrays the heart, dragging every part of you down. And madness is the serpent that slides from the darkness to devour the grief, the sorrow and the sanity.

I was a madman once. I had existed through a period of darkness for eight long years, only regaining consciousness long enough to attempt suicide. Again and again until I had eventually succeeded.

Hadn't I?

XxXxXxXxXx

Hisoka and I had been waiting in line at the Cinnapon for about ten minutes. I was humming and jigging along to 'Somebody to Love', which was blasting out, from the Walkman of the kid standing in front of us. I'll admit, I was in a pretty good mood. I felt like I had heaps of energy since my exchange with Muraki in the bedroom. Yet at the same instance I was swarmed with guilt over the whole debacle. Under Hisoka's ignorant nose we had performed that very act which Muraki may very well have enacted upon the poor boy in order to shame and humiliate him. To think that I had taken such pleasure in it! I knew that soon or later I would have no choice but to confront this serious moral issue but at the time I was quite content to stick it in the 'Too hard' basket and worry about it later. That had always been my greatest fault, I suppose. I am lazy in most matters, be they physical or mental. But never had I been so neglectful of moral issues! The only rationalization I can make is that I was enjoying the dramatic process of the whole thing. The danger of it… it was the first thing that had made me feel truly alive in literally years. And my feelings for Muraki… whatever they were, however wrong they were, they seemed to complete me. He instilled a sense of confidence in my soul, made me feel desirable and worthwhile.

I knew that I was an attractive man. I've never had any misgivings about that. But I'd never particularly cared because being handsome hadn't done a great deal for me through the passing years. I'd only had a few relationships and only one or two really serious partnerships. And even these had never progressed to a sexual level. Muraki had already seen more of me than anyone else besides myself had. (If we casually ignore the one or two rare occasions I may have stripped at the Count's cherry blossom viewing parties but come one… I was under the influence. No one could hold that against me). What was truly depressing about the whole thing was that the one person I had lusted for to this degree of intensity was Muraki! Since the moment we had first met, no one could deny that we had a bizarre unfathomable kind of chemistry. The line between hate and love was obscure at the best of times and the line between hate and lust even tragically thinner.

You couldn't deny that Muraki was an attractive man. Plain and simple; he was an incredible knockout, the kind of guy that was so beautiful it nearly compromised his masculinity and would have rendered just about anyone insecure to the degree that they would have been positively incapable of asking him out.

I doubted Hisoka would have accepted any of this as a plausible excuse for going ahead with what had happened earlier, so for once I made the wise decision to keep my big bazoo shut. But it also required that I keep my distance from Hisoka physically. Which wasn't too difficult considering how much misanthropy the kid possessed. He sure was making it easy for me to keep a secret.

"Tsuzuki, have you been avoiding me?"

Hisoka's question came so abruptly, so suddenly that I very nearly missed it completely. He was facing away from me, speaking to the back of the guy standing in front of us and it took a moment for me to realize that it was actually me that was being addressed.

"Avoiding you?" I repeated unnecessarily. "No, of course not. Why should I be avoiding you?" I was almost ashamed; it was so easy to lie now.

Hisoka glanced back toward me, his brilliant green eyes only halfway revealed from beneath heavy lids. He looked a little peaky and his skin appeared sallow, as though he'd given blood only a minute earlier. I wondered if he'd been neglecting himself again. Sometimes the strain of blocking out people's thoughts day after day took a toll on the boy, inhibiting his appetite and working his mind to the degree that he was unable to sleep. Judging from the dark rings underneath his eyes, it seemed Hisoka was having another of those days.

"These past two weeks you've been… distant. Like you're afraid to get too close." He shook his long bangs out of his eyes and turned his face back in alignment with the rest of his body, shoulders rolling carelessly. "Sorry. Guess I just sound paranoid to you, huh?"

My stomach twisted into a knot of guilt and I had to actively force my face from mirroring the sentiment. Hisoka was no longer that insecure, suspicious child I had met in Nagasaki. That boy who constantly doubted the affection and loyalty of those around him, who had started at long last to feel secure in his friendships. But to hear him give credence to that small seed of doubt and rightly so, made me sick to my stomach.

It's because I'm doing this with Muraki that he's free from his branch of the curse, I reminded myself, ignoring that little voice which objected to the honesty in this supposed moral statement. As long as I keep him happy, no one else has to go through what Hisoka did ever again.

As a means of placating that ever increasing tide of shame, I brought my arm around Hisoka and gave him a strictly 'He-man' squeeze around the shoulders. "Hey," I said, leaning down to speak directly into his ear. "I'm sorry. Things have been kind of… hectic lately. But I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, not after everything you did for me. You understand?"

He looked at me with eyes that questioned my honesty as profoundly as I questioned myself. He seemed like he wanted to say something else but changed his mind at the last second, shut his mouth tight and shrugged my arm free, eyes staring resolutely ahead.

"Whatever." I guess I'd embarrassed him because his cheeks were a little pink. Kids these days. Show a little sentiment and it sends them dead surly. "Look, are you sure that sale was on today? I'm not going to stand in line and miss the meeting while you yell at the girl at the counter again."

"It is today, Hisoka!" I insisted, reaching into the inside pocket of my trenchcoat. "See? I wrote it down in my planner! Right here-" But what had emerged from my jacket was not my usual black day planner but a disturbingly familiar calico colored journal and a number of newspaper pages, that fluttered towards the ground before I was able to catch them. I held them up and examined the headlines with expectant horror. Yes. The very same articles detailing the kidnapping of Watari and his older sister. The articles I had taken from the box in the Other Place and stored away in the off chance that I would be able to leave with them.

But I had not left them in my trenchcoat. I had not even worn my trenchcoat in the Other Place. The articles had gone into the inside pocket of the suit I had appeared in. I can't believe now that I even considered that little irregularity to be as alarming as the reappearance of the articles themselves. And the journal… though it had only contained one obscure article in the Other Place, in the light of day, there now existed substantially more detail. An embroided name, perhaps the journals owner, had been scratched out and another name written beneath it in scrawly child like writing. This too had been crossed out and replaced with another name. That had also been crossed out. A line of question marks seemed to surmise the feelings of the owner on the subject of his or her identity.

"Yeah? What does your planner say?" Hisoka asked in a bored voice. He stared at the calico journal blankly for a moment before realizing that this wasn't in fact my planner. "You got a new one? Sick of the 'little black book' references, eh?"

"Um… yeah." I leapt on that solution like a Sumo Wrestler, finding it easier to just agree with whatever he said then tell him the details surrounding the journals presence. "And yeah. It's today. So let's wait a little longer. Please Hisoka?"

The boy sighed huffily and turned back to face the front, giving me the privacy I desired in order to peruse the journal. Just as the outside had changed, so too had the interior. The crazed, psychotic babble that had been present in the Other Place was gone and in its' place, almost every page had been filled with what appeared to be certified diary entries. I flipped back towards the front and started to read, shuffling forward in the line when I saw Hisoka shift from the corner of my eyes.

October, 31

Papa got me this di-ry. He says that when i feel sad about mama, I can write mi thorts in here and it'll help ceep mi head togetha. I'll try and do a good job and rite a lot!

November 9

Dear diary, (Papa says that's how your sposed to spell it!)

It's starting to get colder. Papa says that winters just around the corner. It mite snow soon. Nee-san and I cant wait. When Papa gets time off work, hes going to take us to Kyoto for a visit! Im really excited! The only bad part is… Mommys buried there. We're going to leave some flowers. Papa says sunflowers. They were Mommys favorite.

November 14

Dear diary,

Papa took us for a walk last night. It was kind of cold but Nee-san really wanted to see if there were any owls hangin round. Nee-san loves owls. They're her favrite animal! I kind of like tigers. Tigers are cool. Papa likes owls too and Nee-san and I like to joke and tell him that he kinda looks like an owl! Papa larfs when we say things like that. We all like to make each other larf.

I'm so happy, diary! Even tho thinking about Mommy makes me sad, Papa's around to make me smile again. Even tho I know it was because of me that he and Mommy couldn't love each other anymore. He still loves me just the same, just like Nee-san.

Papa! You're the best Dad in the world!

November 21

Diary! We went to Kyoto today!

Our holiday room is so cool! We have a grate view! Papa's real pleased with himself and he keeps larfing happly and hugging us. Nee-san thinks Papas gone loopy. She's always saying that. But Papa doesn't care! He just larfs some more.

We went to the cultural (I arsked Papa to spell that word for me!) festaval just after we arrived. There were so many awsome masks and the dancers were really pretty! Even tho it was kinda cold out, we really enjoyed ourselves. Papa ate five stix of sticky scwid!

Were going tomoro to put floers on Mommys grave. I wonder if shell be happey to c us? Papa doesn't say nthing but I think he wonders to.

November 22

Dear Diary,

It waz windey today but we steel went to visit the grave. Papa seemed wrelly tired today. I arsked wut was wrong but I think this onley made him grumpey. I thinck he misses Mommy too. Nee-san and I got to put the floers down and we lit some incenss, so we coold pray. Papa says that Mommy will here whut we r saying. Mommy must be happy in Heven. I wonder whut God is like? I bet evrythings purfekt up there.

November 23

Dear Diary,

I don't kno whut I did wrong but Papa seems even grumpyer today. I thought it was just visiting Mommy that made him akt weird. I don't think he wantz to talk to Nee-san and I, so we're staying put in our room.

We wer supposed to go out to lunch today.

Nee-san wont stop crying.

November 24

Dear Diary,

Papas better now! He sayd he waz sorry and took us out for an extra big lunch to make up for yestaday. It rayned but we were all so happey we bearly noticed. Nee-san is sad becawz she hasn't seen any owls in Kyoto since we got here. Papa took us to a toy stor and bowt me a little toy tiger and got Nee-san a little plush owl. Theyre both so cute! Papa said that we can tell all our frends back home that we saw tigers and owls and Kyoto, but its not really the same tho, is it?

November 25

Dear Diary,

Were back! Our vacation is ova and we gotta go back ta skool. Papa's gotta go back ta work. I steel feel bad for upseting him on the trip. I hope he knows how much I love him.

I'm gonna go tell him.

December 5

Dear Diary,

School is so boring! Everything's too easy now, diary! Papa says I gotta stick at it tho because I might need to use them smarts one day! Papa is so clever. He went to University and got a diploma for some inventing thing. I'm not sure what its called. But Papa's had a hard time getting work lately. He seems tired all the time and his eyes are red. When we get like that, Papa makes us go to bed early! He should go to bed early too but he always stays up late.

December 31

New Years Eve Diary!

Tomorrow's gonna be the start of a whole new year! I can't wait! Things are going to be even better, I know it! Papa took Nee-san and me to watch the New Years Celebrations, even though he doesn't have much money. We ate so much, I thought my tummy would burst! Then we stayed up all night and made a wish when the sun came up. I hope it comes true. I wanna stay with Papa and Nee-san forever.

January 1

Dear Diary,

It's the start of a whole new year! Hooray for 1983!

It's gonna be a great year, you wait and see!

I gotta go for breakfast now. I'll write some more tomorrow.

January 2

Dear Diary,

Second day of 1983. I knew it was going to be a great year! Papa doesn't seem as tired anymore and though we don't have much money he still bought us heaps of presents to celebrate Christmas. There are a lot of Japanese families that don't believe in Christmas but I'm glad we do!

Papa didn't get anything for Christmas. Maybe his Mama and Papa don't believe in Christmas, just like the rest of Japan?

I wish I could meet Papa's parents. Other kids have Grandparents, why not me and Nee-san too? Maybe I should ask Papa about them?

January 5

Dear Diary,

You know how I said I would ask Papa about Grandma and Grandpa? Well I did. And I wish I didn't. I didn't mean to make Papa cry.

Today's a bad day diary. For some reason, I feel sad too.

I can smell tulips…

January 8

Papa didn't come out of his room much today. I think he might be sick. Is it my fault again? Nee-san's going to be sad if Papa gets grumpy again.

January 9th

He hit me.

I don't know what I did! I went into his bedroom to see how he was and he got scared or something and he hit me!

I wasn't going to hurt him.

Maybe he does hate me.

January 10

Dear Diary,

Papa says he loves me. I'm so happy. I don't care why he hit me anymore, just as long as we can smile again. He seems better now. He took me shopping to make up for what he did and said sorry heaps, so I guess it was an accident. Nee-san got to come shopping as well, otherwise she would be left at home by herself!

January 12

I smelt the tulips again today.

Why can't I stop crying?

I miss someone…

March 29

Dear Diary

Sorry I haven't written in ages! Things have been pretty busy around here the last few months. Papa's getting more money now, so we moved and got a bigger house! I don't have to share a room with Nee-san anymore! The house is heaps bigger than our old apartment. I'm having some friends stay over on Friday, for the first time ever! Sometimes the kids at school say mean things about my Papa but I don't believe any of it. Papa's the greatest! I think they're just jealous that their dads aren't cool like mine. That's what Nee-san says and she should know. She's super smart like Papa.

April 13

Dear Diary

A kid at school today said I was a 'bastard'. I don't understand. I know it's a bad word and it means you're bad as well but I've never done anything mean to anyone. The boy said his dad had been talking to his Mama about me and he had been eavesdropping. He said that a bastard is someone whose parents weren't married.

Does my Papa think I'm a bastard too? He said he doesn't and told me I shouldn't ever repeat that word. I promised I wouldn't.

I don't like that word.

I hate it the most.

September 11

Dear Diary,

Papa doesn't look well again today. He seems kind of sick. His eyes are red and droopy. I asked him if anything was wrong but he just smiled. Papa doesn't get grumpy anymore. He's always smiling.

September 20

Dear Diary,

Papa was sick again today. He kept on touching his arm and saying that something hurt. I wanted to kiss it better but he wouldn't let me see it. He fell asleep on the floor and Seki and I had nothing to do all afternoon. Papa's been going to the doctor a lot lately.

No date

Papa…

No date

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

Where are you? Where are you? Oh, why won't you come home?

No date

You wicked man, you wicked man!

You made Nee-san cry!

We need you, please come back!

PLEASE!

We'll be good!

No date

Please come back

No date

Please come back

No date

Where are you? Rotten good for nothing.

Some people came and got us. We're going to a group home for a while, that's what they said.

I don't wanna go. I know Papa's not coming back but I don't wanna leave! I wanna stay here! This is where we all smiled together.

They said the fire took Papa. There was a fire… did Papa burn in the fire?

It must have hurt so bad! Oh Papa! I miss you so much! What are we gonna do without you? The other man doesn't want me! He already has a son of his own.

I have nowhere.

No date

I could smell the tulips again today. It doesn't feel so bad this time.

No date

A woman came today with her husband. The woman is apparently our- no, she's really Nee-san's aunt, since Papa's not my real father. She was Papa's sister but they haven't seen each other in years, not since she was nineteen. She seems nice. Her husband runs a big restaurant in Kyoto and they want to take Seki to live there.

I have a blood father in Tokyo. The people here at the group home are trying to get in contact with him but apparently he's overseas at the moment. Auntie is going to attest custody, so that Seki and I can stay together.

I hope she can. We've already lost Papa. Nee-san and I have to stay together! We have to!

No date. Handwriting far advanced

Seki has been living in Kyoto for some time now. I can't go until that man is contacted. I wish they'd hurry up and find him already. The group home is so boring.

Still no date

They found him.

I can't believe it. He actually wants me to come and live with him now! After ignoring me for all these years, now he wants to try and establish bonds? At the expense of my sister and me?

I'm so angry! But what am I supposed to do? I'm still a minor and that man is my blood father.

I have a brother too. A little brother. I always used to be the younger brother.

I'm going to miss you Seki… but I promise I'll write you all the time! We'll see each other again one day. We gotta do our best now though. We can't be bitter.

Papa wouldn't want that.

No date

I met my little brother today. I think he was more shocked to find out about me, then I was to find out my father actually wanted something to do with me! He's got this real platinum colored hair… I've never seen anything like it! It's a bit soon to start calling him Nii-san, so I addressed him by his first name instead. I hope that's okay. Maybe it's a bit impersonal in an upper class family, I don't know… Ah well, he seems nice enough. He's a bit on the shy side but we can work on that!

Papa worked so hard pushing and pulling for Nee-san and me. He was so good to us, up until the very end he protected us and gave us everything we could ever want, at the expense of the things that he needed. Papa never rested a day even until the very moment his entire world collapsed. So even if my entire world collapses, I have to live up to my father's memory. He gave everything to me when I was weak; so no matter what I have to protect my new family. I have to protect my brother.

That must be the reason Papa died… and why I couldn't stay with Seki. Kazutaka needed me.

XxXxXxXxXx

Kazutaka?!

I flicked through the remaining pages of the journal but nothing else was written. No indication as to the writers identity, nothing. There was a plain suggestion that this was the diary belonging to Muraki's half sibling but I hadn't a clue as to who this was. The only knowledge I had regarding the family relations of the Muraki family I had learnt from the reports submitted by my fellow Guardians, who had been present in Kyoto during those traumatic events so many months ago. I knew that Muraki had been interested in using my genetic profile to fill in the gaps of a cloning experiment he'd been steadily working on for a number of years prior to my first meeting with him. The specifics however were unclear… he had divulged none of the details to any of my fellow Guardians naturally and the large vat containing the remnants of his initial efforts was destroyed in the fire that had consumed the University, the contents whatever they were, unsalvageable.

So, there were a number of alternatives; either this half-brother was the individual whom Muraki had been devoted to resurrecting or else he was still alive out there somewhere… The idea of Muraki having a brother around the same age as him stimulated me somehow. If he was still alive, where was he? And who was this Seki the poor boy spoke of? This older sister whom he had been separated from by the cruelest of circumstances?

I tried to work it out as Hisoka and I continued to shuffle forwards in the gradually shortening line. This boy, the half-Muraki, had lost his mother and he and his half-sister were living with his sisters' father, whom he thought of as his true parent. From what I gathered, his stepfather had then passed away in a fire and the daughter, Seki, had been shuffled off to live with a relative of the fathers and the half-brother admitted into a group home, whilst awaiting the return of his blood-father from overseas.

Muraki's father… Why had he left his illegitimate son in a group home for so long? Surely he would have checked in with him from time to time? Provided financial aid for child support and the like. I just couldn't understand and I desperately wanted to show this diary to Muraki and hear what he had to say on the matter. It had to be important, judging by the way it had appeared before me in the Other Place. But whose writing was displayed on the single page then? Not the half-brothers surely… but someone else. Someone more disturbed… And if I were to take into account the number of syringes littered across the floor, then the author of that particular piece was surely drug dependent.

I sighed deeply, tucking the journal back into my inside pocket, where it weighed heavy against my mind as well as my heart. It was almost impossible to fathom a simple answer to the many questions that continued to plague me. And not only were the problems complex but there were hundreds of intrinsic connections; as though a huge spider had spun a web across the voids and drawn a thousand unaware persons all together. I almost expected to feel a bump against my back and to turn around to find someone drawn in against me; someone who somehow connected to me, though I may not have seen the thread before.

"Tsuzuki? You going to order something or what?"

XxXxXxXxX

We arrived at the Ministry with a minute to spare. Tatsumi stopped me in the midst of my regular morning mad rush to the office that I shared with Hisoka, holding my assorted pastry boxes against my chest as though they were my newborn children.

"Ready to go Tsuzuki?"

I gave him the dirtiest look I could possibly muster. Barely one foot through the door and the guy was already raring to reverse me right back on out it!

"Do you mind?" I said, outraged. "I haven't even had breakfast yet!"

Tatsumi wasn't as accommodating as I'd hoped. His nostrils went white and he adopted that prudish expression I imagined would not be uncommon on the face of a mother. Not that I had any memory of mine but you get the point.

"Well, that's your own fault now isn't it?" He stressed mulishly, putting his hands on my shoulders from behind and steering me forcefully in the direction of the staff room. "Go in and sit down. You can eat while we discuss the mission variables."

I scoffed loudly before I was able to stop myself. "Mission variables? What is this; the army?"

Tatsumi moved his hands up from my arms and used his fingers to squeeze my ears until tears came to my eyes.

"You cut that cheek right now." He said as we rounded the corner and into the midst of my fellow Guardians, all waiting outside of the staff room for Tatsumi to unlock it. Konoe looked exceptionally huffy; no doubt due in part to Tatsumi's unrivaled knack for managing to exercise more authority within the Summons Section than him. Hisoka slouched in behind me, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans and only the faintest trace of a smile lifting the corner of his lips.

"Whenever you're ready, Tatsumi." Konoe said, putting on his most important voice as though to remind everyone that he was in fact Chief and he should be in possession of the keys. His eyes lingered with offensive interest on my oodles of goodies and I tried without much success to covet them from his eyes by angling my upper body around so that my arms faced back towards Tatsumi's towering figure. Hisoka didn't bother to hide the fact that he was very openly rolling his eyes at this not unusual display. Well, not unusual for me, anyway.

"Well, isn't this a nice way for us to gather?" Terazuma commented, with the air of one wanting to get the worst over with. "Cozy little circle in the middle of the hallway. Almost like standing around a campfire."

Wakaba smiled patiently at him. "Campfires are supposed to be bright and cheerful, Hajime. This is hardly anything like a campfire."

"Well, Tsuzuki's bright and cheerful." Saya pointed out, which forced Yuma into a string of heartfelt giggles I couldn't pretend to understand. "He can stand in the middle of us and make crackling noises!"

"Cracks more like."

"Shut up, Hajime!"

"Don't call me Hajime, you tinsel toed freak show!"

"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!!" Konoe bellowed and I did so immediately, afraid that if I pushed it too far the old fella was likely to blow the lid right off of his blood pressure. His eyes had already acquired that dangerous, slightly protuberant look I had come to associate with imminent disaster. He glared at us reproachfully, daring either Terazuma or I to violate his command in any way and seemed to eventually conclude that neither of use were so inclined risk our jobs just for the sake of a few extra seconds of tattling one another. "Thankyou." He said, with much dignity, soothing down the nape of his light purple jacket and gesturing towards Tatsumi with a weary wave of his hand. "Tatsumi? Would you be so kind…?"

Tatsumi hastened immediately to unlock the door and we all filed inside like badly behaved school children that had just been shepherded in from the playground. Everyone immediately helped themselves to my menagerie of pastries as I set them down on the table but I dared not protest whilst that vein continued to throb so threateningly in Konoe's aged forehead.

Tatsumi stood at the head of the table, looking very important and making sure that everyone took notice of his new jacket, the nape of which he had finally negotiated into being correctly directed.

"Meeting commenced at 8:35 exactly," He declared, running his fingers absently down the interior lining of the jacket, so that we could hardly fail to miss the perfect symmetry in which it framed his matching blue striped tie. "All Guardians assigned to this mission present and accounted for."

"You mean… we're all going to take out Muraki?" I blurted, pointing at each group member in turn. "Don't you think this might be just a little overzealous, Tatsumi?"

Tatsumi's lips were pressed thin. "When it comes to Muraki nothing is overzealous, Tsuzuki. If we're going to do this, we're not going to give that doctor even a sliver of a chance to come out on top."

"And with the eight of us there'll be nothing but a stain left by the time we're done with him." Terazuma assured, tapping his chest cockily with the ball of his fist. I forced a smile, finding it a little harder then I expected.

"Yeah. Great! Great Hajime, great." But something about his wording stuck me as incorrect. Looking around the gathered congregation I counted the present number as I visually inspected them. Myself, Hisoka, Tatsumi, Wakaba, Terazuma, Yuma and Saya numbered seven, so long as I was counting correctly. (Konoe was not included as he was no longer a field operative). I added up a second time just to be sure.

"Hajime… you can't count." I broke into a string of obnoxious giggles, which I'm certain the shape-shifter failed to appreciate. "Look! There are only seven of us. See? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Mr. Konoe doesn't count of course." I added, with what I hoped was a graceful nod at my boss, who chose instead to look scandalized my apparent claim that he 'didn't count'.

Tatsumi smiled patiently, settling his clipboard into the crook of his opposite elbow and using his now free hand to straighten his glasses.

"Actually, it's not just the seven of us who will be going to face Muraki, Tsuzuki. His majesty Enma formally insisted that an agent of the Containment Sector accompany us today, should we have require any extra force."

"Any extra force?" Yuma scoffed, tossing her light brown shoulder length hair haughtily to one side. "How much extra force could we possibly need, what with the seven of us being so majorly badass?"

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. A sixth sense of some cruel irony about to take place, so persuasive that I actually found myself loosening my tie, something I did when I found my anxiety substantially increasing. Even my remaining goodies could do little to ease my growing concerns.

"Just… who exactly is Enma sending along?"

If Tatsumi noticed the apprehension in my voice he either didn't notice it or chose to ignore it. With him it is always sort of difficult to determine the extreme dictations of his emotions. He was well guarded.

Tatsumi checked the clipboard, eyes scrolling down a little way before settling on the appropriate section.

"A gentleman by the name of Orakiku Segai." Tatsumi looked back up at me, smiling with oblivious encouragement. "He's been employed at the Ministry for just as long as you."

Oh dear God… it was him.

Aki.

My original forbidden love.

I wanted to handle this development with verve and grace but let's face it; I'd never exactly been much of a sophisticate. And I wasn't given a great deal of time to react before Aki actually walked into the room and joined us.

Even after all these years he still had an effect on me. Just the sight of his lean body made my hormones ignite, despite my passionate exchange with Muraki earlier that morning. When your libido had been kept in check for as long as mine had, it didn't take much to set it off and Aki certainly provided no battle.

In respect to his appearance, Aki was both handsome and homely. Favorably toned and with naturally dark skin that made him appear tanned all year round, he was built like a jock but had three times the smarts of your average varsity chowder-head. He was a little shorter than Muraki and just a little taller than me, which had made kissing him enjoyable, as I wasn't required to crack my neck out of place to reach him. He'd cut his blond hair since we'd dated last and now wore it short and spiked, which suited him more than it had long, though I'd spent many happy nights running my fingers through it and enjoying the silky texture.

His personality was a plus too. He could be pretty deep when it suited him but was generally a soft and tender guy with a very charismatic attitude. I doubted he had a mean bone in his body.

The time I had spent with Aki had been, until this point, the happiest time of my afterlife. I'd fallen in love with him but like most people that got too close to me, he couldn't handle the more angst riddled aspects of my personality and watching him struggle to do so became too painful for me to bear. Not to mention I had very nearly jeopardized my friendship with Watari over Aki. I'd first met him when he and Watari had been going out. They'd been a certifiable item for a month when Watari invited me out for a couple of drinks one night and we'd gotten to know one another. A little too well. Aki and I hit it off famously. For weeks we had nursed a shared secret infatuation, neither having the guts to confess it to Watari or to ourselves. Finally, one night when Watari had had too much to drink, Aki and I took him home and set him to bed and then I'd made the ill-fated mistake to invite Aki into my apartment for a cup of coffee. We must have kissed for hours. My lips were chaffed and raw beyond even my healing abilities capacity to tolerate. I'd been besotted with that man. If there were anyone I would have thought could have been the 'one' for me, it would have been Aki, no questions asked.

Things between Watari and I had been pretty tense during that period. It was pretty low, in my opinion at least but I'd explained to him as sensitively as possible that it was easier for him to find romantic partners than it was for me. I'm still not entirely sure why, even to this day. Guys have always been… weird around me. They didn't treat me like a prospective lover, like a living breathing human being. They treated me… I'm not even sure how to define how they treated me.

But Aki hadn't been like that. He'd been good to me. He'd spoiled me. He'd loved me. I would always be grateful for that. And I'm such a small person that I can say with complete honesty that it was worth the friction between Watari and myself. Sorry man. You know I love you dearly but I'm glad I hadn't missed out on the chance to experience everything that being with Aki had to offer.

We'd parted on favorable circumstances, offering to try and pick it up again a little further down the track. Should we both remain single of course. No problem with me. I seemed to spend most of my time alone, rather then as part of a couple.

We hadn't seen each other in some years now. We worked on opposite ends of the Ministry and he was more often than not out on regular field assignments. Agents of the Containment Sector were like the hit men of the Ministry in a fashion. They were the ones that were sent out to locate and decimate demons and supernatural creatures that were considered a verifiable threat.

Apart from his hair, not a great deal had changed about Aki Segai. He was still as lovely as ever. In every meaning of the word.

"Well, if it isn't Little Python!" Aki exclaimed cheerfully, walking straight past Tatsumi as though he were the cellophane man and slinging his arms about me casually. He started that familiar pattern of patting up and down my back, his tactic to work his way down to my bottom. And this wasn't easy either, considering that I was still seated and all.

Aki had always appreciated a firm bottom.

"Hey, I have a real name. All my own." I said, perhaps a little more flirtatiously then I needed to be. I just couldn't help myself. Aki was the kind of guy whom you always felt comfortable flirting with. Possibly because he was such a flirt himself.

"Did he just call you Python?" Terazuma asked once we had parted. I noticed Saya and Yuma looking on approvingly. Trust them to appreciate the scene.

"Aki- Um Orakiku here gave me that nickname because of my iron stomach." I explained, not failing to notice Aki's hand still resting on the inward curve of my back. This guy wasn't under the delusion that he was being subtle, was he?

"He can digest anything." Aki said with a hint of pride. "Just like a python."

"Yeah… yeah, I got that." Terazuma offered, looking annoyed that Aki had felt this required further explanation.

"This guy could eat anything ya put in front of him and never get sick. Once, I saw him eat a beer and Chanpon together. Yet he somehow still manages to keep his fabulous little figure." Aki gave me a little jiggle and smiled, expressing how sincerely happy he was to see me. This genuine honesty was one of his big appeals, never mind his perfectly white and straight teeth, flawless complexion and trim waistline. Having died in his late twenties, his forehead was mottled with a number of deep lines from years of laughter but this only increased his appeal, rather than dimmed it. He was human and that was a good thing.

"Ah… gee thanks Aki- Orakiku." He had great manners and he knew how to treat someone in order to keep them happy. "Not looking too bad yourself."

He gave my head an affectionate tussle. "How's Watari doin' these days? Still as carefree as ever?"

I shrugged, wondering why I couldn't wipe the giddy grin off of my face. I was such a hormonal little schmuck these days. "Ah, you know him. Everything's all shits and giggles in Watari-land."

Aki stroked his chin thoughtfully, a slightly devious gleam to his hazel eyes. "Is he seein' anyone right now? Heard he went on a date with some bloke from the Detriments section a couple of weeks back."

For some reason, my stomach swooped considerably at his words. Before I could respond however Tatsumi took it upon himself to intervene. I was almost grateful.

"How is it that you're acquainted with Watari, young man?"

Aki (who had nearly half a century over Tatsumi) smirked and stuck out the tip of his tongue. "You almost sound jealous there, matie. The doc and I used to date a little, that's all."

Tatsumi quirked his brow. "You used to date…?"

"Yeah. But we broke up. I met someone worth the trouble." Aki winked in my direction so that there would be no mistake about who he had ditched Watari for. I didn't appreciate him making it so damn obvious. "Thing is, I was kind of looking forward to catching up with him one day soon."

I felt a little snipey and I think it was obvious in my voice unfortunately. "Well, you're out of luck. Watari is seeing someone. A samurai. Big thump of a thing. Possessive too, from what I heard."

Tatsumi's head whipped in my direction. "What?!"

Aki laughed brazenly. "Hey, don't get me wrong Python! I wasn't interested in catching up with him for that!"

Sure you weren't, I thought but I didn't bother expressing it out loud. I just crossed my arms and flashed him a look that spoke my mind and he cinched close, slinging a reassuring arm around my shoulders.

"What's with the look? It's the truth, matie. Watari makes for good company but I'm sure not interested in opening that can of worms again! You're the only one I'd take that risk for. You know that."

Bless his big country heart. Though I wish he'd said that last part a little quieter. "Cheers, Aki. You sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself."

He gave me a peck on the lips, just a quick friendly gesture but the next thing I knew Tatsumi was yanking me away and steering me towards his office so quickly I wondered whether he had affixed wheels to my shoes. I glanced back towards the gathered congregation, as perplexed as they no doubt were. I was a little surprised by the expression on Wakaba's face; she seemed particularly pained as she watched Tatsumi drag me from the scene.

"Tsuzuki and I will just be a moment, I must discuss the mission variables with him." Tatsumi blurted before he liberally threw me through the door of his office, resulting in my plowing face first into the floor. Great. Now I'd be picking carpet out from between my teeth for the next week.

"What was that?!" Tatsumi bellowed without even waiting for me to get up. I spat out lint as I shuffled onto my knees.

"What was what?" I asked, totally perplexed by his turn of behavior. I counted Tatsumi as one of my good friends and he'd been kind to me throughout our long years of association but lately I couldn't fathom just where his mind was. That fortnight ago, when I had dressed up for my date with Muraki, Tatsumi's reaction had been enough for even someone as oblivious as me to read. It should have been clear before then, his feelings for me. The number of instances when he had fashioned a physical intimacy between us, raced to my rescue, mothered me to an almost embarrassing degree…

Now that I think about it, it's really no wonder that he responded to Aki the way that he did. To say he didn't like it would be an understatement. His brilliant sapphire blue eyes seemed to burn with a cold fire and his face was like stone. I'd never seen his lips pressed so thin as they were then.

"You know very well 'what'." He jabbed his finger back towards the closed office door. "What is your association with that man? And what on earth did you mean when you said that Watari is dating that… that Oriya fellow? You know and he knows that Guardian-Mortal relationships are against the rules."

I struggled to my feet, sullen that my temper had resulted in this accidental slip of the tongue. After Watari had been so good in keeping my secret, here I'd just gone and blown his right out of the water. My mind raced to fashion a plausible excuse that would clear Watari's innocence but I was still mostly divided on who better to defend in this instance; Tatsumi was glaring at me with the same expression he'd worn when I'd destroyed the library for the second time running. It made me wish I'd scored higher in defensive spells during Training.

"Well… it's not technically against the rules." I delicately stressed. Tatsumi looked as though I'd just wafted dung underneath his nose. "It's really more taboo… and it's none of my business anyway… and it never happened!"

Tatsumi exhaled slowly and shut his eyes as though praying with the Lord to give him strength.

"Stop contradicting yourself, Tsuzuki." It seemed he was going to exceptional pains to try and control his temper. "Watari begged to take this case, which in itself was unusual-"

"He just wanted some fresh air." I interjected nervously. Tatsumi's eyes narrowed ever so slightly behind his delicate wire framed glasses.

"Don't interrupt me, Tsuzuki." There was a familiar dangerous twinge to his voice, I recognized all too well as the sign to shut up or die. "Now, as I was saying, Watari begged to take this case and now all of a fortnight later I hear that he's involved in a…" He struggled to allocate the right definition. "- romantic liaison with the individual employing our services." He curled his lip and strummed his fingers against the curve of his chin thoughtfully. "Granted I can understand Mibu's reasons for wanting to establish this 'relationship' but I thought… well, I hoped that Watari was smart enough to know better."

I'd never been particularly good at interpreting subtleties in… well, pretty much anything, so I didn't understand what Tatsumi was suggesting at first. I gazed at him; feeling my brows quirk up in silent question and then when he failed to elaborate further, saw no harm in prompting him to do so.

"What do you mean by that?" I took a stab, thinking I understood his meaning though questioning the likelihood of it. "Are you trying to say that Watari's so hot, that Oriya couldn't resist getting it on with him?" I started laughing even before I finished the sentence.

Watari

I think it's perfectly plausible myself.

Tsuzuki

You would.

Tatsumi's mouth twitched as though he were going to smile. "Don't be ridiculous, of course that's not what I'm suggesting." He leant back against his desk and crossed his arms tightly across the broad expanse of his chest. "I simply question the sincerity of a man who maintains close confidences with someone like Kazutaka Muraki. Has it not occurred to you, or to Watari for that matter that this Mibu gentleman could be using him to get inside information on the Ministry? Information he can pass on to Muraki?"

This suggestion was so ridiculous; it made my own theory look plausible. For a minute I simply stared at him in mute speculation, waiting to see if he was joking or if he would suddenly realize just how unreasonable this summation was. He stared back at me silently, eyes widening and shoulders shifting upward to express that he was equally surprised that this interpretation hadn't occurred to me also.

"What?" He questioned, seeing that I wasn't about to look at it from his point of view. I gave my head a little shake, breaking myself out of my shocked trance.

"But Tatsumi… that's… that's completely mental!" I didn't stop to think that this was a phrase I never used but it seemed appropriate given the circumstances. "It's paranoid! It's like a conspiracy theory! And I think you're investing way too much stock in how much this Mibu guy cares about Muraki's batshit plans!"

Tatsumi didn't argue with me but simply shrugged. "Well… I expected you'd say as much. I shall be making a full inquiry of course."

"Tatsumi, don't be a dick." It was out of my mouth before I realized it. Tatsumi's eyes snapped up furiously to focus on me but now that I had said it, I couldn't see that I would do much more harm by expressing everything else that was on my mind. "You know Watari doesn't appreciate you meddling!"

"What Watari appreciates and what protocol requires I do are two separate issues entirely." Tatsumi responded coolly, lifting his nose in a slightly haughty gesture. "Should any harm befall- … well, should anyone in the Ministry's employ be harmed as a direct result of Watari's association with Mr. Mibu, then I will be held equally accountable for having not done my part here and now."

I could feel my features flushing at my boldness and I leant forward, encroaching Tatsumi's personal space. "Last time you nettled him about his relationships, he split your lip and set a whole army of stickmen loose in your office!"

His face was stricken and his body tense. "How do you know that gentleman, Tsuzuki?"

This change of direction took me completely by surprise and I spluttered over my words in a rushed effort to keep up. "What the- Why are you-? Are you talking about… about Aki?" I could feel myself getting angry. "Are you jealous? Is that what this about?! What has any of that got to do with Watari being used as Muraki's unconscious mole?!"

"I'm sorry," Tatsumi said, completely sincere. His face still appeared remarkably tense but there was another emotion hovering just beneath the surface of his brilliant blue eyes; they seemed to shine as he looked at me. And he was close. I could literally feel the heat radiating off of his skin and see the lines separating his eyelashes. He seemed to be breathing very deeply.

An uncomfortable spear of sensation plunged down directly into my stomach and I wanted to take a step away but I couldn't do that without making it look as though I wanted to get away. He was just so close… too close.

"I'm sorry." Tatsumi repeated in an oddly husky voice I hadn't heard him use before. Sweat was breaking out on the back of my neck. Tatsumi paused in his next step forward and cocked his head sidelong as though something had suddenly caught his attention. "Tsuzuki… did you comb your hair?"

With all the fuss, I had forgotten that Muraki had tidied me up before shoving me out the door. I reached up and smoothed my fingers back through the neatly controlled waves he had somehow forced my hair to comply with. My unruly hair that behaved for no one had submitted to Muraki just as willingly as I seemed to be doing these days. Again, I suppose the signs were unmistakable.

"Oh… does it look weird?" I asked, grateful for anything that would distract Tatsumi from the hungry way he was suddenly staring at me. I had only ever seen him stare at generous monetary donations with that level of affection.

Tatsumi twitched his eyes down away from my hair, locking his gaze to mine again. "No. Not at all. You look very-" He swallowed deeply. "- nice."

I should have seen it coming. All the signs were there; his body language, his expression, the shining of his eyes. And yet, it still came as a shock when he leaned over and kissed me.

Tatsumi was so warm compared to Muraki, which was ironic considering that he was dead, whilst the latter was alive. His mouth and tongue actually felt hot, unlike Muraki who seemed to have no blood in his lips at all. The kiss was passionate, unforeseen and impetuous. My body responded of its' own volition and I let my lips fall open, allowing Tatsumi to compromise the sanctity of my mouth. His tongue moved clumsily about, probing against mine with tentative inexperience. It was clear; even to someone as innocent as me, that Tatsumi hadn't done this with another man before. Not to say that he was letting that lack of association inhibit him in any way whatsoever. He was really giving it everything he had, applying his passion and imagination to substitute for lack of familiarity. Warmth and a funny smug sort of feeling were increasing in burgeoning waves throughout my body and I felt Tatsumi's arms go around me and draw me close and it seemed like a good idea to respond. To let my arms go around him in return and sanction my mouth around his upper lip, running my tongue along the smooth pink column, lifting the angle of my thigh so that it pressed against something thick and hard. Something that made Tatsumi gasp, made his arms tighten, made him arch against me-

This primitive hormone driven reaction was enough to bring me back down to earth with a thud and I pulled myself away, breaking Tatsumi's hold about my body. Our lips parted with a soft, smacking sound and from the way Tatsumi's head dipped, it was clear he wanted to continue the kiss. I put my hands in the center of his chest and maintained my distance.

"Tatsumi… we can't do this now."

"I'm sorry… but I've been wanting to do this for longer than you know, Tsuzuki." His fingers tightened about my shoulders; thumb stroking the indent below my collarbone. "And if we should meet Muraki today… well, believe me; there's no better time than now."

I knew what he was getting at but I never thought the day would come when I would hear such terrifyingly frank words fall from this secure and stable mans lips. And it made me angry; that he thought he could only do this now, could only confess this phenomenal truth because there was a good chance one of us wouldn't survive our "encounter" with Muraki.

I gripped him tightly by the lapels of his jacket, the very same jacket he had been complaining about only two weeks ago and forced him to look directly at me.

"You don't get to talk like that." And for a minute, just a minute, I actually felt like the older one. Technically I was older than Tatsumi but he had lived longer than I had; he was twenty-nine when he had passed away and I had only been twenty-six, so he had been a much more mature person when he had become a Guardian of Death. He'd always seemed like the oldest. That moment was the first time in our entire association that I felt in some way superior to him. "No one is going to die today, so you don't get the luxury of being honest with me. You don't get to confess your feelings because you think one of us might not pull through this."

I hadn't lied. Muraki wasn't at his home. He wasn't even in Tokyo. And because of his arrangement, I could guarantee almost one hundred percent that Muraki wouldn't so much as sneer at another Guardian of Death without losing my trust.

Muraki…

If he had any inkling that Tatsumi had kissed me… let alone that I had responded in kind… I'd never seen Muraki in a real temper before and I could only imagine what it would be like. Tatsumi really would have to watch his back then.

The secretary's eyes were shimmering with a light film of tears and he took my face between his hands. He rubbed my cheeks and stroked his thumbs over my eyelashes and ran his fingers through my neatly brushed hair. As though he were trying to absorb every single line of my body. To experience me before it was beyond his ability to do so. I knocked his hands away.

"Tatsumi… I'm seeing someone." This seemed to be the only way to get him to back off and it wasn't exactly a lie either. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry if this isn't what you want or need to hear right now but I can't… I can't feed you any false hope."

He stepped away, disentangling himself from me. I wasn't an empath like Hisoka but I would have to be brain dead to not feel the desire and longing rolling off of Tatsumi.

"Is it that man out there?" He asked softly. I shook my head.

"No." And I was dramatically overwhelmed by the unfamiliar prospect I was suddenly faced with. Three guys, all handsome, all well to do and all interested in me. My love life had never looked so good! What was ironically the most frustrating aspect of this situation was that the man I was currently most attracted to, was a sadistic ex-murderer.

I could have gone with either Tatsumi or Aki and been happy, content and spoilt rotten for the rest of my days. I wouldn't be going through this disgusting emotional turmoil and compromising my morality and betraying Hisoka and everything I held dear. Why did I have to make things more difficult for myself? A tiny, unbiased part of me wondered whether or not I had a pining for dramatics. I wondered if I could ever truly be happy just… being happy.

"Tatsumi… let's get this over with." I grasped him about the wrist and pulled him out of his office and back in the direction of the staff room. "We'll have all the time in the world to talk about this. Let's just deal with one thing at a time, eh?"

Tatsumi had no response to this except a throaty grunt, which I found difficult to interpret to say the least. Once back in the staff room, he immediately busied himself in getting the girls to change into more appropriate clothing (they were donned in their usual flowy and feminine attire, which was pointless for a physical mission) and ensuring that every Guardian was equipped with what appeared to be a small pager and in the event that we were unable to use mana, our choice of a handheld weapon. I restocked my fuda and arranged all the basic spell scripture.

He didn't look at me once during this entire process and when the time came to leave, he strode on ahead of the group, moving quickly so as to avoid keeping pace with the rest of us, even as Wakaba did her best to sweet talk him out of his obvious blue funk. Mr. Konoe flashed me a confused look as I bustled past him and out through the archway, a half eaten treacle tart dangling from between my teeth.

"Well, someone's getting the cold shoulder," Konoe commented, rapping me confidently on the shoulder as I vaulted down the steps. "Good luck. Be safe, all of you and be sure to call for assistance if you feel it's necessary. Don't be embarrassed to, even if it is eight to one and he still manages to beat your asses down!"

"Good value for money, that one." Aki said cheerfully, beaming back at Mr. Konoe with genuine affection. "You know, I think the old bugger is starting to grow on me."

It turned out that Muraki's mansion was a lot closer to the Ministry than I had originally thought. The eight of us turned invisible and flew there in a short ten minutes, landing in a deserted alleyway just down the road from the mansions gates. Then we strolled on up, casual as you please.

In the morning light, the mansion looked much bigger than I remembered it. There were three sections; the main building and two slightly smaller guest wings in the right and left hand corners of the facility. It was hard to think that seventy-two years ago, I had been hospitalized in one of those guest wings, which had at the time been converted into a hospital by Muraki's Grandfather. Not that I had any memories of those days of course. And I wasn't planning on exploring the guest wings at any rate. If Muraki had been here it only seemed plausible to purpose that he was in the Main Mansion. So I would insist that we keep our investigation segregated to that area alone.

The stonewall surrounding the property was almost as imposing as the silent white buildings looming just beyond it. We wasted a lot of time just standing around staring up at it, trying to officially formalize our 'attack' plan.

"So… should we try buzzing the intercom?" Wakaba suggested, after we'd spent a good few minutes doing nothing in particular. Yuma rolled her eyes haughtily.

"And say what? That we're dropping in for a cup of tea and a quick assassination attempt? Yeah, that'll bring the welcome wagon running."

Tatsumi nodded thoughtfully, eyeing off the intercom as though it were about to start shooting laser beams out at us. "I agree with Miss Fukiya. We've got to assume that Muraki has alerted his servants to be on the look out for us. In which case, we can't risk being seen."

"So, we go incognito." Terazuma stated, enforcing some of his detective vernacular just to prove he still had it. "Go invisible, hop the wall, and bust in."

I raised a hand, waving it about as though I were a student on a rather interesting field trip. Tatsumi's mouth quirked a bit as he pointed at me over the heads of the other Guardians.

"Yes Tsuzuki, what is it?"

I lowered my hand at his validation. "Well, not that Hajime's plan isn't all well and nice," I distinctly heard Terazuma swear and insist in a rather rude manner that I desist from calling him 'Hajime. "But, once we're over the wall, how are we supposed to get into the house without alerting the servants- and Muraki – to the fact that we're there? I'm sure they're bound to notice eight great honking Guardians of Death breaking down the door."

Aki laughed broadly, resembling a football jock more than ever with his hands on his hips and his broad chest thrust out.

"You're as artless as ever, Python! Good thing ya got me here." He ignored my scowl and instead whipped something out of his pocket, something that look suspiciously like a credit card. "Watari made these little nifties for all the Containment Sector agents some time back. The essential tool in infiltration!"

"A credit card?" Saya enquired, clearly trying to be polite. Hisoka's wasn't so concerned. His eyes rolled back so that the whites were showing.

"Oh come on! Everyone knows that credit card trick! And it only ever works in the movies anyway."

Aki waved a finger at him. "Not so quick to judge, kiddo. Watari made this device to look like a credit card because of that very attitude. But it's actually much more than that. Once we get inside, I'll show you what I mean."

We all nodded, quite content to place our trust in a member of the Containment Sector, even if everyone (especially Terazuma, as of late) was particularly iffy about placing our fates in the hands of anything that Watari had made. No offense, mate.

Hisoka, Tatsumi and I surveyed the three possible directions in which people may have approached the Muraki mansion and sensed no one in the immediate vicinity. We kept watch as Saya, Yuma, Wakaba, Terazuma and Aki shifted to invisibility and Jumped the wall, landing without so much as a sound on the far side.

"Seems as though Muraki hasn't cast any protection spells around his mansion." Hisoka mused, taking one last glance about to make sure no one was watching before he too shifted to invisibility. "Strange… makes our job easier though."

Tatsumi and I shifted to invisibility and cleared the wall along with Hisoka, my mind racing as fast as our mana energy propelled us through the air. I guess it shouldn't have come as a surprise to me that Muraki hadn't thrown any spells up; it would have kept me from being able to visit him, if the urge had ever taken me. It truly occurred to me then, the risks Muraki was taking on account of our 'liaisons' as Tatsumi called it.

Still invisible, the eight of us traipsed up to the door, watching Aki to see what mystical deeds he was going to perform with the 'Watari Made Credit Card of Infiltration Wonderfulness.' For a moment he just stood there, as though savoring our rapt attentions and then moved to the far side of the great oak double door, pressing the end of the card against the hinged line. He swiped the card down quickly over the hinges, as though using an ATM machine and then casually pocketed it, gesturing for us to move closer.

Terazuma scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Was something supposed to happen?"

"Shhh…" Wakaba urged and then suddenly gasped as Aki reached out and pushed at the left hand side of the double doors, the side he had just swiped with the card and it swung inward, swinging from the center rather than from the hinges, which opened wide to admit us into the foyer beyond.

We entered slowly and carefully, the door clicking shut softly behind us. The air seemed strange; thicker somehow and it appeared to radiate with a purple light. Aki waved a hand nonchalantly and the chandelier hanging above the foyer burst on, showering us with a brilliant blue glow. Tatsumi rounded on him, eyes narrowed down to form That Look.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Ease up, ease up." Aki yawned, traipsing liberally over to a lamp set atop the entrance hall cabinet and switching that on too. "That card allows us to step through the true reality of a building and enter it through the subjective Fourth Layer of Reality. We can freely interact with any material object on this plane and not interfere with it in the First Layer of Reality, or the real world if you prefer. Of course, we'll be invisible to any people we encounter. They won't be able to hear us either, so feel free to jabber 'til your hearts content."

"And how do we get out of this reality?" Saya wondered, clearly nervous by the prospect of being trapped in this bizarre purple dimension for the rest of her days. I wish I could be more loyal but the prospect that Watari had created this thing with no reversal process was my immediate concern also. Aki gave her a comforting squeeze about the shoulders.

"Ay, don't sweat it! Done this plenty of times and it's never gone wrong once. Not once." He held up the card again. "It'll reverse itself either as soon as we leave the building or if I swipe the card down the correct jam of any door in the house. Then we enter the door the usual way and we step back into the First Layer of Reality." He tapped the side of his nose knowingly. "Certain sources have revealed that icky blue marble the doc has for an eye can see into three alternative layers of reality. I'm using the card for fourth layer, so that we can sneak up on him rather than vice versa."

Tatsumi gazed at the card and Aki with annoying fondness. "A fine idea, Mr. Segai. This should certainly make our job easier."

"And if it doesn't work and Muraki's able to see us?" Hisoka asked carefully. I knew what he was worried about; that despite the curse marks disappearing, there may still exist something of a connection between them. A connection Muraki would be able to sense and use to his advantage. It almost made me want to sigh with impatience and blurt out that none of this was of any concern because Muraki wasn't even in the damn building! But this would have been stupid and incremental and even I wasn't foolish enough to act out of frustration.

Aki grinned and stuck out his tongue. "Then he gets a face full of Tsuzuki boob, which will distract him long enough for us to hex him a hundred ways to Halloween."

I gasped and slapped Aki hard on the arm, trying not to let a blush gain control of my features. "Listen you! I am not gonna flash Muraki just to save your butts!"

"Too bad Watari's not here." Terazuma mused wistfully. "He'd have no problem doing it."

Tatsumi clapped his hands together loudly. "All right now, that's quite enough chit-chat. We have enough to be getting on with, so let's do what we came here to do." We all looked to him like obedient children and I'm sure I too would have appreciated the seriousness of the situation if I had been as invested as everyone else. But I knew Muraki wasn't here. I knew we wouldn't be facing him. It was hard to act serious and somber and scared when I was none of these things. I think this has been said before but I'm something of a terrible liar. And an even worse actor.

"Enma has instructed that we only capture Muraki, so that he can be bought before Hades Court for Judgment. Preferably alive of course." The secretary curled his lip to demonstrate exactly what he thought of such orders. "However, if at any time you feel that your own life is in jeopardy, you have approval to defend yourself in whatever means you see fit. Now, we split up. The Main Mansion is a big place, so it'll take a while to search the whole place. Miss Fukiya, you take the right wing of the second floor, Miss Torii, the left wing of the second floor. Miss Wakaba, I'll ask you to take the right wing of the Main Mansion on the ground floor. I believe kitchen and dining area is in that direction." (It was too. Where did Tatsumi get his information, I had to wonder?) "Terazuma? I'm trusting you to take the left wing of the ground floor." Terazuma gave a lazy mock salute, just to show that he had heard. "Mr. Segai? Please take the attic and basement. I will take the Garden and grounds. Kurosaki? Tsuzuki? The two of you will explore the third floor area. Kurosaki will take the right wing of the third floor, Tsuzuki the left wing. When one of us finds Muraki, or encounters danger of any kind, we hit this button on our pagers." He held up his own pager and indicated a large black button with his ring finger. "This transmits the alarm signal to all corresponding pagers, that you each have on your person. It will make a strong vibration like this." He demonstrated by hitting the button on his pager and causing all corresponding machines to twinge violently, including my own, long since shoved into my jacket pocket. "It will display on the screen who has activated the alarm signal and once you see that, we all go straight to that Guardians location to assist in any manner we see fit." I had a very bad, almost vague premonitory feeling that if Tatsumi had been the first to encounter Muraki, he wouldn't bother to alert us at all but would take him on by himself. Perhaps that was the reason he had been so touchy feely that morning. "Once you have thoroughly searched your assigned location, return here at once to the Entrance Hall and await further instruction. Do not proceed to investigate a fellow Guardians area under any cost, unless of course you are alerted to do so." His face held an oddly eerie contrast in the vague purplish light emanating from all around us. "Be careful. Move out."

Touching goodbyes were not his thing and he immediately moved towards the far side of the entrance hall, stepping through an adjourning door and swinging it slowly shut behind him. The other Guardians parted ways, Yuma and Saya cheerfully jogging up the stairs to the second floor, chatting and giggling with such animation you might have thought they were getting ready for a day at the beach. Wakaba gave my arm a comforting pat before moving to the right hand side of the entrance hall.

"Good luck everyone!" She called, before swinging open the old oak door and stepping through. I could tell from the way Terazuma was biting his lip that he was more than vaguely concerned for his petite partners welfare.

"Be careful Kanuuki." He pleaded, before he too went on his way and stepped through the opposing door into the left wing of the ground floor. Aki tilted his head back and hefted a not unattractive sigh at the ceiling, so high above our heads.

"Guess I'll take the attic first. Though, in a psycho's house I'm half expecting to find skinned corpses hanging from the ceiling. And I doubt the basement would be much better."

This unfortunate comparison reminded me all too much of the half skinned cadavers in the Room of Corollary and an involuntary shudder went through my body. Aki, clearly thinking that my disgust was attributed to something else entirely, squeezed my shoulder comfortingly, his eyes liberally twinkling with their usual cheery mischief.

"Hey, don't worry none about this! You're going to be fine. We'll get this guy and then you'll never have to concern yourself with him ever again." He slapped my back and then marched for the stairs in a bold exaggeration of a fearless explorer, swinging his arms like a lumberjack. "Never fear, the A-Man's here!"

"Watch your tail." I called and he gave a jaunty swish of his backside in response, disappearing up the stairs heading in the attics vague direction. Hisoka and I were left alone in the eerily quiet Entrance Hall.

We looked at one another in unison and I forced a smile, slightly put upon by the surly frown I received in return.

"Well, let's go on a Witch hunt!" I declared enthusiastically striding towards the stairs and flashing a confident grin over my shoulder. Hisoka continued to stare with discouraging disinterest and I tried to force him to crack a smile by tap-dancing up the marble staircase, in my best impression of Gene Kelley in 'Singing in the Rain'. His expression didn't change as he came stomping up churlishly, giving me a disdainful shove in the shoulder as he passed.

"Stop it. We're working." He snapped, as though I required some reminder of the supposed 'seriousness' of the situation. "Well… most of us will be working. Some of us will be playing grab ass, if they happen to find Muraki first."

My features flushed furiously. "For the last time, I didn't play 'grab ass' with Muraki in the hold of the Queen Camellia! I wish you'd just let it go!"

For all the good my protest had done, I might as well have not said a word. Hisoka gave me a look that said quite plainly that he didn't believe me. "Is that why you've done your hair up today?" He asked, his tone unnecessarily brutish. "Wanted to look your best in case he got you bottled up alone somewhere?"

We had reached the second floor by then and I could feel my temper rising in time with our ascent. It wasn't the first time Hisoka had taunted me about Muraki's infatuation but I was feeling much less tolerant about it than I normally did. No doubt as a direct result of my deeply entrenched feelings of guilt. I stretched out my hand to halt his progress, being careful not to actually make contact and risk a direct psychic bond. Then there'd be no hiding the times since the Queen Camellia that Muraki and I had played 'grab ass' as my young friend so eloquently put it.

"Hisoka, drop it." I said, wiping every noticeable trace of humor from my voice. Hisoka's expression remained as diligently impassive as ever but I sensed something change just behind his eyes.

We had reached the opening of the center hallway of the third floor when something came spinning towards us from the penetrating darkness at the far end of the passage. I shrieked and pulled Hisoka in front of me, positioning him as something of a meat shield much to his obvious disgust. The approaching enigma came into focus as I peered over my partners shoulder. It was a serpentine shape, dull gray in appearance with gaping black holes for eyes and a mouth, similar to the Scream mask from the popular movie series. It spiraled towards us, screeching to a halt just five feet away and then lunging forward suddenly, two luridly blood red snakes erupting from the black pits of its eyes and hissing into our faces. Hisoka and I reeled back, shielding our faces with our arms in the event that the snakes would attack but the whole thing seemed to be a show. The gray creature remained in place at the entrance to the hallway and came no closer, as though some invisible leash had restrained it. Looking closer, I was able to see into the depths of its gaping maw and was mystified to find that the creatures tongue was also an independent entity; namely a large black leach, swollen as though thoroughly quenched by blood. Hisoka's expression mirrored my own as he too took this alarming factor into consideration.

The creature didn't waste any more time on theatrics but started to speak, in a voice as harsh and guttural as an old hag gargling broken glass and acid. Neither Hisoka or I moved a bare inch whilst it recited its' lengthy prose, possibly on account of the agitated looking snakes hovering a bare inch or so from our suddenly much more vulnerable eyeballs.

"Solve my riddle before you leave," Hissed the creepy in its harsh tones. "This is the story of the Riddling Three;

'Many centuries before your time of death, there came the life of an Old Buddhist priest, whose name is unknown, though his story not forgotten. This Priest traveled from the northern most island of Japan, to the Southern most tip, chasing the Sakura Zensen. During his fastidious travels, the priest often found himself being forced to bunk down in some of the more obscure of places. This story takes place on one of those nights. Weary from the day's travels, the priest was forced to spend the night in an abandoned temple along the mountain path that he had been traversing since the suns first light. The temple had been left in disrepair for some time and was thick with dust and wreathed in the webs of spiders. But this mattered not to our tired traveler, whom had spent the night in far less respectable conditions than this. Exhausted, the priest soon passed into a deep sleep and so remained until the first hour after midnight.

During that first minute of the first morning hour, a dim light that did not belong to the still sleeping sun broke the traveler out of peaceful darkness. Startled, the priest searched for the source of the light and found that it emanated strongly from the neighboring room, though he could not distinguish the source. He heard a deep and unnerving voice issue from the conduits of this bright wreath of light:

"Holy-Man. Priest of Buddha, who places his faith in the almighty. Can you believe in the presence of the Otherworld here tonight? Do you know who we are, Mr. Priest? Do you believe?"

"You are ghosts!" Exclaimed the Priest, who knew just enough to understand that it was better for him to accept without question. Something cold pressed against the bare flesh of his neck.

"That we are Mr. Priest. We are the undead and we have come to test you. Three riddles we will present you with. If you fail to answer them correctly, we shall divide you into three parts even and devour you. We shall now begin."

"I can only hop to make my way, one eye alone to see the day. A single leg upon which to stand, who am I, mere mortal man?" Asked the first ghost.

"My face is square, worn by the track, yet I can carry you upon my back. I have two teeth and three wide eyes, so who am I? Yes, who am I?" Sand the ghost of the second.

And then, the third ghost slid around the Priest's subjective figure. "A fire burns within my chest and while it burns I never rest. And though my body is thin as rye, I never die, so what am I?"

"Who are we? Who are we? What is the answer you're longing to seek? Who are we? Can't you see? Who are the ghosts of the riddling three?"

The ghoul inched closer, its' foul breath cloying my senses. "Answer this, you Guardians two; tell me who and I let you through. Should you fail my simple task, I'll break you in half and devour each part."

All I can say is; thank God for Hisoka. After the door puzzle in the Other Place, my brain had effectively switched itself off from riddles and went a clear blank at the prospect of working through this impending conundrum. Fortunately for me; my partner was switched on.

"I've heard this story before," Hisoka whispered over his shoulder to me, not breaking eye contact with the hovering ghoul. "Saw it in one of the library books."

"No wonder I've never seen anything about it then." I said crankily, looking to the side as though berating the wall. "I've been banned from the library for like the next two centuries…"

"Shh…" Hisoka urged, waving a hand over his shoulder to urge me into silence. He stood straight and tall and spoke in a very loud and distinctive voice, to ensure that his answer was not misinterpreted.

"The first," He said, "Is the ghost of the Umbrella, with the single eye at its' center, directed towards the sky and one leg, held by the arm of mortal man."

The ghoulish creature was silent for a long time but eventually conceded with a barely discernable nod. Hisoka took this as the cue to plunge forward.

"The second, is the ghost of the Geta; the Japanese wooden clog." I stared at him, utterly bewielded by how any of the creatures riddle corresponded to what the boy was saying. "It carries the entire weight of the wearer upon its back, has three eyes between its' square teeth, which are forced into the ground day after day as it is worn." Hisoka elaborated, no doubt more so for my benefit than the creatures. It gave another tiny jerking nod and with renewed confidence, Hisoka wrapped things up. "And the third was the ghost of the Paper Lantern. You light a fire within its' body that burns constantly unless extinguished by the one whom lights it. And though it is made of paper, the flame never touches it, so therefore, it never dies."
… This sounded like total bullshit to me. But I waited to see what kind of reaction it would inspire from the questioning presence, still hovering a mere foot from our faces.

"Both you and the monk answered correctly," It finally admitted, though there was nothing grudging about that dispassionate voice. "And with the spirits satisfied, they departed and allowed the living to move on, unhindered any further."
And like a piece of spaghetti being sucked between the lips of a diner, the snake like being was suddenly whipped back along the hallway and disappeared effortlessly into the wall at the far end, leaving neither a mark, nor dent upon the paintwork. For a long while, Hisoka and I remained silent, neither quite able to express our severe astonishment over what we had just been confronted with.
"What… was that…?" Hisoka finally wondered. I had a brief, incomplete memory of Watari showing me something in one of his favorite demonology texts in the Library (before I had been banned of course), something that possessed a vague sort of similarity to this bizarre being that had just appeared before us.

"A… Guardian Ghoul."

"Huh?" Hisoka intoned.

"A minor demonic force of the Other Plane. Set to guard important passageways and entrances." I quoted, quite proud of myself for having memorized that so efficiently. "They confound you with riddles and the like and if you should fail to satisfactorily answer them, then the beastie… well, you heard what it said. Shall we proceed?"

Hisoka wasn't exactly turning cartwheels in his enthusiasm to hustle his butt any further down the hallway and since I had none too courageously hidden behind him in our first encounter with Muraki's defenses, I felt it only chivalrous to push on ahead.

We went as far as we could go together and then the hallway split in two; one heading to the left and the other to the right. Hisoka and I turned to look at one another, neither sporting much of an expression.

"Well, catch ya later." The teenager said and with not so much as a backward glance, stole down the right passage, moving with tentative ease, in order to interpret any trap that may have been coming at him. I watched him carefully until he turned the first corner and was gone and only then did I feel comfortable going on my way.

I hadn't gone more than two steps past the first turn in the hallway however, when I came across Muraki's second trap. I sighed inwardly, feeling a tiny part of myself fracture. I hadn't expected Muraki's home to be some kind of unmarked sanctuary but there had still been that tiny, ineffectual hope that he would not have favored the close proximity of death within his own living quarters. That hope was maliciously quashed in the presence of immediate death, splayed out before me as though to mock my predictable ignorance.

At first I thought that Muraki had been responsible for yet another tragedy and was appalled that he had broken his promise to me. Four corpses lay sprawled at various points throughout the passage, two male, two female. One male was slouched in an upright posture against the wall; one of the females lay flat out on her stomach. The other two resided further down the hall, curled into awkward fetal positions, like spiders that had been sprayed with poison. There was no blood, no evidence of foul play. It was as though these bodies had just been removed from their place of rest and set higgledy piggeldy about the hallway in the vain hope that an intruder may have tripped over them in the dark. I was brought to a complete standstill and something inside of my chest seemed to tighten.

I'd certainly seen worse during my time as a Guardian of Death but somehow this apparent act of betrayal left a deeper mark on me. I was as disgusted as I was shocked by it. "He just… left them lying out in the open?" I pondered to myself.

Then I took a closer, more rational take on the matter. These couldn't possibly be corpses. Did I honestly believe that Muraki, mad though he was, would just leave these out in the open where his servants could just stumble over them? It almost wouldn't have surprised me but my prior observation made far more sense; Muraki wouldn't risk his help coming across a corpse, so this had to be something else. Some sort of spiritual protection he had laid out in the off chance Guardians of Death invaded his house. I had never been to the upper landing myself, so I had never encountered these… defenses before. They had perhaps been here since before my last visit.

"But what are they?" I asked myself. And as though the questioning of their identity was the signal that announced their awakening, the four corpses suddenly sprang to their feet, each facing my direction but slouching from the waist, keeping their faces hidden by directing their gaze back towards their own bodies. The backs of their heads confronted me, leaving very little to interpretation.

They remained in silent pose for a matter of a minute before beginning their languid and untroubled approach in my direction. I finally got a look at their faces and was appalled to witness that where most people possessed eyes a mouth and a nose, these creatures instead presented a complete and utter lack of definition. Their faces were as blank and smooth as the surface of an egg, similar to the face of a store mannequin. The most disturbing aspect however, was the strange sound each of the creatures made. Having no mouth didn't seem to matter; each one was emitting a high-pitched groaning wail like an air raid siren that's balls hadn't yet dropped. They moved in complete unison, arms tapered in tightly against their sides but fingers craned forward in a similar representation of withered birds feet.

It would have been simple to banish these nasties, if I had some idea of what I was dealing with in the first instance. But obscure demonology was Watari's field of expertise, not mine. My job was to hurt things, which I would gladly do. Once I had some knowledge of just how I was supposed to do that.

"Dammit! Why is Watari never around when you need him?!" I grumbled, backing slowly away from the approaching horrors. And that's when a brilliant thought came to me. Watari might not have been here but I did have my phone. Why not call him and get his expert assessment?

The creepies were getting closer and closer, so I didn't waste any more time speculating on whether this was a good idea or not. I whipped out the phone and dialed Watari's number, biting my lip in mounting anxiety as the strange corpses continued to encroach on my personal space. The ring tone was broken as someone picked up on the other end and I was a little surprised by who answered.

"Güttentag? Yutaka Watari's phone?"

My heart sank in my chest. "Ichibana?! Is that you?"

"Nein, it's zat other German genie the Blondie's got workin' for him." The djinni muttered back, his heavily accented voice thick with sarcasm. "Ja it's me, ya silly sod."

"What the Hell are you doing with Watari's phone?!" I spluttered, keeping my eyes locked on the advancing mannequin like creatures. Ichibana, clearly unflustered by the frantic tenor to my voice, hefted a troubled, though in my opinion, obnoxiously casual sigh.

"Blondie's got his nose ta the grindstone, so I'm handlin' any calls he gets." The djinni said, though he hardly seemed the least bit put out about it. Ichibana always spoke as though every subject under discussion was a mildly humorous joke. "'E said under no circumstances is 'e ta be disturbed. Pretty shockin' mood e's in too. Can't say I blame 'im. Had ta break it off with that hot hunk of stuff this mornin'."

This development came as such a surprise to me that I actually stalled in my retreat from the egg faced creatures, quite remiss of the fact that this was without a doubt the most stupid thing I could do right then.

"Watari and Oriya broke up?" This statement posed more questions than it answered really. "When were they an item?"

"Oh, they weren't really together. Not really." Ichibana said quite conversationally. "But last night they got pretty cozy… looked like they were settin' in for the long nine yards. Then I got tha word that Enma knows 'e's screwin' round the wrong side o' the tracks and e' issues a warnin' tellin' Blondie ta keep his dick in his pants, basically. Wasn't impressed, I can tell ya that! Oriya's moods pretty shockin' too. Guess 'e was more fond a the blondie than I thought was possible. I mean, e's kinda pretty and all but 'e ain't exactly tha last hotdog in Hungry-Town if ya catch my drift, ya know what I'm sayin'?"

Ichibana would have been happy to waffle on all day if I had let him but I had just noticed how close the creepies were getting and having a yarn with the djinni was not helping me none.

"Look, Ichibana I know he doesn't wanna be disturbed but I really gotta talk demonology with Watari right now." My back hit the wall and I realized that I had forgotten to turn the corner whilst backing away.

"Demonology, eh?" The djinni sounded positively delighted, as though I'd just announced that the koi pond was full of horny, naked supermodels. "Well I know a thang or two 'bout the Paranormal, matie. Is this somethin' I can help ya with?"

I ducked out of the way as one of the corpses arched fingers reached out to stroke my cheek. "God! I… I dunno! I sorta need you to know a bit more than a 'thing or two'! This is really important! I'm being attacked right now!"

"Ah, ya don't say?" He asked and this time I think he was being purposefully relaxed, just because he knew I was starting to panic. "Well, let's not bullshit 'bout anymore then, aye? Tell me what ya got in yer face."

I reversed my butt around the corner and continued to back away as the critters determinedly staggered after me, screeching accusingly, fingers wriggling like manic grubs. I swapped the phone to my left hand, using my right to withdraw the Beretta 92 handgun from the holster on my hip, leveling it at chest height on the corpses. I wasn't sure that ordinary run of the mill 9mm rounds would do any damage to a supernatural being but if it slowed them down even for just a minute, that might be the difference between keeping my head or losing it. Oh the irony of that particular statement!

"We're infiltrating Muraki's house! Well… I'm pretending to anyway and- he's got all these traps, these paranormal creatures guarding certain areas. Right now I've got four… kind of corpse type things coming right at me!"

"Draugr."

"Draugr?" I repeated, unfamiliar with the word. I wondered if it was a German word and if he'd forgotten that the only language I could speak was Japanese. "Ok, what's that?"

"Draugr." He repeated impatiently, as though I should have known what he was talking about. "A revenant." He prompted when I failed to catch on and seemed increasingly frustrated when I uttered several frantically confused nuances in response. "Zombie, dummkopf!"

"Zombies?" I glanced towards the leering, shambling wretches but none of the glaringly obvious zombie-like features jumped out at me. The moved like zombies true but their flesh showed no signs of decomposition and they didn't resemble Maria Wong, who we had officially declared a Langsuir – a beautiful undead woman characterized as having red eyes, sharps nails, long white hair and very long fangs. Neither definition seemed to fit what was confronting me thank goodness. It would definitely mean that Muraki had violated his agreement with me.

I shook my head, more to myself than Ichibana. "No, these aren't zombies. They move similarly but their faces… they have these smooth blank faces like shop mannequins." I waved the gun over my face, as though it were necessary to provide a visual demonstration. "They're blank. Like the surface of an egg."

Ichibana was silent for a second and something seemed to flutter in my chest as the four creatures shambled closer, rocking from foot to foot like severely drunk people, still emitting that high pitched keening wail. The noise seemed to confirm whatever thoughts the djinni was having.

"Ah… I know that sound!" He gave a flighty laugh as though to mock my reaction to something that was clearly undeserving of such hysterics. "Blank-Faced Specters. Ye got nothin' ta worry 'bout."

"What? Why?" I almost felt the need to protest, on account of my reaction to what I still viewed as a genuine threat. These 'Blank-Faced Specters' continued to encroach upon me without pause and should they have possessed mouths, I had no doubt they would be moaning 'Braaaaiiins' at me in a demanding sort of fashion'Nothing to worry about' my ass.

"Blank-Faced Specters aren't ghosts or demons." Ichibana exclaimed in a lazy, tepid sort of way. Easy for him, he wasn't here staring the damn things in their featureless faces. "They're composed entirely of mana energy and made ta take tha vague countenance of human bein's. But because they aren't remnants or spirits, they possess no true identity, so naturally they appear wi'out a face."

"Yes, yes, thanks for the lesson." I snapped, glancing over my shoulder to see that the specters had successfully herded me to the end of the hallway. I was almost back at the exact point where Hisoka and I had separated only minutes earlier. "How do I get rid of them though?"

"They're mana energy from Dr. Satan, no doubt ta keep out any persons he don't want rattlin' around the upstairs rooms. Blank-Faced Specters can be programmed to recognize certain people and if yer well and truly havin' it off with our resident Mad-Eye-"

"Playing 'grab-ass' you mean."

"-then he's no doubt programmed the critters ta recognize yer name and voice. Try introducing' yerself and see if that does the trick."

I pulled the phone away from my ear and focused the entirety of my attention on the face of the closest specter. If this didn't work it would only be a matter of seconds before it was exfoliating my face with its' fingernails.

"Mu… my-my name is… Asato Tsuzuki." I fumbled clumsily to remember my name but this was apparently adequate enough for the Specters, who immediately halted in their approach and stood up straight, arms lowering to hang limply by their sides. To my immense relief they also ceased their ongoing attack wails and fell silent. It could be no more effective then if I had flipped a switch on the backs of their heads.

Then, to my astonishment, the four figures pressed their hands against their chests and dipped their heads forward in what was unmistakably a bow. A distinctively baritone voice issued from the closest figure, which just so happened to be female.

"Name recognized: Asato Tsuzuki. Specifics: Beloved by the Master. Access to Third Floor corridor: Granted. Restricted Access. Permitted access to the following areas: Master Bedroom. Guest Bedrooms. Upstairs Balcony. Please, enjoy your time as an honored guest within Muraki Manor."

I stared nonplussed into the blank faces of the Specters. "Geez… first they try and eat my brains… now they're rolling out the red carpet! Muraki… you've got so much to answer for."

"Did it work, kid? Oi! Answer me! They're not slucking up yer intestines like spaghetti are they?"

I returned the phone to my ear, sliding the Beretta back into the gun holster as I did. "Yeah, it worked great. Now they're really laying the niceties on thick." I glanced back towards the dramatically reposed specters and smiled a little as I rolled my eyes. "This is so odd! … Thanks for your help, Ichibana. If it weren't for you, I doubt these guys would be acting so damn polite now."

"Ah bitte, mate. Weren't nothin'. I don't like to hear a pretty boy get all up in a sweat. Not unless it's for tha right reasons, o' course." I nearly blushed. "Besides, we're talking about somethin' Mad-Eye Muraki set in place and I doubt they woulda done anythin' too terrible, on account of his concern that they might mess up yer damn fine face." Bizarrely I thought back to the macabre poem Watari and I had decoded in the Dark Realm and suppressed a vagrant chill that had plundered up my spine from the depths of my stomach. That statement bothered me more than I could say. Would Muraki really have engineered this things to veer off from total decimation in the rare chance that it might have been I that wandered into their midst? Somehow, I couldn't imagine Muraki exercising such lenience's, even if there was a good chance his little beasties would carve my brain out of my skull and gobble it down like bratwurst.

"Thanks Ichibana. Listen, can I give ya a call back if I run into anything else I can't handle?"

The djinni chuckled gently. "Course, o'course. My only other alternative is ta sit around shootin' tha breeze with 003 and watch Blondie and Hot-Stuff skulk 'round with their bottom lips thrust out. Ya just give me a jingle if ya run inta anythin' that bothers ya."

"Cheers, I'll do just that. See ya."

"Auf Wiedersehen." He sang, hanging up abruptly and leaving me well and truly along in the company of the most truly bizarre magical concoctions I had ever seen. Muraki's knowledge of the occult must be more profound than I had ever estimated, if he was able to summon up these creatures of which I, in all my years of service, had never heard of once. Not once! How utterly bizarre that he had not spoken to me of these strange manners of security, knowing that I was to step foot in his mansion the very next day. But I gathered that this was the dark humor of the man who had long maintained his intrinsic infatuation with me. Perhaps he thought I was getting some sort of a treat by being offered this oppurtunity to test myself. We would certainly be having words once I got that loopy delinquent alone again! What kind of treat was this?! Hadn't the guy ever heard of Liquer Chocolates?

One of the male Specters gestured towards me, palm up, fingers together. It spoke in a beguiling obliquely feminine tone, offering a truly bizarre contrast to the deep voice of the aforementioned female attendant. "Would the young master fancy a cup of tea?"

"Um… no thanks." I said, not pausing to consider just how ridiculous this was all getting. "Could you please show me the way to the Master Bedroom?"

My face heated up as I saw the Specters all turn towards one another and if they had mouths, they would have no doubt been smiling knowingly. It seems that mana essence wasn't the only by-product Muraki had instilled these creatures with.

"But of course, Master Tsuzuki. Allow us to escort you."

"Um… thanks." I muttered, watching cautiously as two of the Specters fell into step behind me, indicating that I was to swiftly follow the remaining pair into the hallway that I had just been liberally driven from. I wasn't sure that I trusted myself enough to question precisely why I wished to visit Muraki's bedchamber first. I knew for a fact that he was not going to be there waiting for me (thank goodness). I didn't have any reason to go snooping about, not even to put up the appearance of having done so. However, it would be ages before the other Guardians would complete their rounds of their allocated sections of the house and what was the point in just waiting around with nothing to do? I rather felt that I was tempting fate by visiting Muraki's room but I couldn't resist being midly curious about this personal space in which the strange, perverted and brutal doctor rested his head and body by the days end. There was something… deliciously deviant about gaining entrance to his bedroom whilst he was absent from his dwelling that filled my chest with a kind of thirsting excitement. What secrets of Muraki might be hidden in the dark crevices of a bedside cabinet, beneath the bed or atop a magnificent oak wardrobe? Perhaps he kept a journal, much like the one residing within my jacket pocket, telling of his exploits, explaining his mannerisms and reasoning behind the atrocities he conducted? No… no, I simply could not imagine that Muraki would possess the consideration to commit his deeds to paper. This could be disastrously deterimental should the writings fall into the wrong hands. But more so… deranged though he undoubtedly was, Muraki wasn't one prolong the memories of his crimes. I understood that about him very well. You would be wrong however to assume that it was a show of remorse on his part, an inkling of something sembling human empathy, provoking him to resent and furthermore cast aspersions upon himself. No. The lack of reminder was pure and simple apathy. Muraki did not care enough about his crimes to bother keeping record of them, whether material or immaterial.

I would be sincerely grateful, if this was the case. More than anything, I feared entering that room and uncovering some shred of reminder of who Muraki truly was. Or had been, before his passion for me escalated to the intrinsic degree that it became vital to shirk his previous carnal acts and seek a means to inspire my understanding and perhaps yet, forgiveness. My feelings toward Muraki were delicate; sustained predominately by infatuation, curiosity and a newfound lust that had never wrought me so thoroughly before Muraki entered into my world. I had restrained myself since the first moment I registered the stirring of hormones within my body, not sure how anyone could deign to lay bare their soul before the cursed eyes and damned heart of the demon-prodigy Asato Tsuzuki. I had carried this conception since my childhood, my feelings of inadequacy, distrust in my own confidence should it ever lightly escalate and the final grudging acceptance that no one ever, not ever, would want me.

And so, to be forthrightly confronted by someone like Muraki; who, if you were to ignore everything else, was supremely beautiful, intoxicating and persistent, had an enthralling effect on me. It would be difficult for anyone to understand, to sympathize with. I was a man and because I had no desire to be betrayed, I had allowed myself to remain chaste for almost a century of life. Needless to say that my hormones were embarrassingly receptive to Muraki's passionate declamations. Whenever he touched me, locked his gaze upon mine or kissed my lips, with all my heart I wanted to surrender. It was torture, to desire his physical expressions of appreciation and to be routinely confronted by the truth of his past and the darkness of his corrupted nature. If God had not turned his back upon me, I might have even dared to pray for one favor in his grace: That he would erase Muraki's past, so that I could be with him, touch him, adore him and surrender myself to him without the consistent presence of this guileless guilt.

I wondered if Muraki had anything in his bedroom that concerned me? (Apart from a few stains on the sheets, I mean.) Perhaps a cherished photograph? It wouldn't have surprised me that he would be able to acquire one without my express permission, not after Watari hacked into the Count's computer and found just what he had cluttering up his hard-drive with.

Well, I had plenty of time to kill. And I'm sure Muraki would certainly not have minded my presence within his bedroom. (I'm sure I had been there many times already, in his imagination.) So, I decided I would give the place a good turning over, just because I could.

We passed a picture frame hanging on the wall and I stopped to stare at, forcing my Specter escorts to wait patiently for me to resume my way towards the bedroom. But I couldn't take my eyes off of what lay confined within the exquisitely crafted golden framework.

It was a very large picture, as I suppose most family portraits among the upper class are. For that was what I was seeing, I'm sure. There was a very tall, slender man standing at the back, his face wearing that unmistakable expression of haughtiness that Muraki was so fond of exhibiting when he endured failing moments of impatience with me. Other than that, there was very little similarity between them. Muraki as I knew him now was very fair and his build was very strong, his features poised between delicate abstract femininity and divinely exquisite masculine grace. Muraki senior was none of these things.

For a start, his chin was very weak and he had attempted to disguise this by the faint shadow of stubble stretching up from his neck to beneath his perfectly trimmed side burns. His dark black hair was brushed neatly and his not unattractive face was stern, ice blue eyes seeming to mask some deeper emotive. I got the impression that he had been taken to be a rather severe man but there was something about him; the vague twinkle of his eyes and the roguish tilt to his upper lip that suggested he'd perhaps possessed a lighter side. Thought not as striking as Muraki, he had the kind of looks that were charismatic and favorable; if not distinctive.

Muraki's father stood with one strong hand on the slender shoulder of the woman seated beside him and slightly more pronounced by favor of the artist. Muraki's genetics had clearly favored his mothers' side of the family more than his fathers; though I was stumped as to which parent had contributed his considerable frame, because neither of them was exactly robust. Muraki's mother was even weedier than her husband but she was full chested and extremely attractive; if perhaps a little too thin. Her eyes, the same cold shade of gray as Muraki's, didn't seem focused on anything in particular and her smile was serene, as though she hadn't a clue where she was or what was going on. Muraki had inherited her albino white skin and disturbingly silver-blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders in composed curls that Watari had always aspired to but never been able to perfect. Her lips were painted a sharp and vivacious red and the fingernails that rested delicately in the curve of her lap matched them perfectly.

Two teenaged boys stood at the forefront. Judging by the smallest ones silvery mane and beautifully ostentatious expression, I didn't have much trouble figuring out that I was gazing at a very young Kazutaka Muraki. He was very skinny back then, built a lot like Hisoka. He even resembled him somewhat, though his face was a lot sharper in contrast to my young partners. His light eyebrows were nearly invisible, though the artist had attempted to flesh them out somewhat more than they had undoubtedly been in real life.

What really drew my eye however, was the face of the second boy in the portrait. Or rather lack thereof. Someone had cut the face out of the portrait completely, leaving a gaping hole, revealing white canvas beneath. I turned to the equally blank face of the Specter closest to me, which seemed to be gazing at the exact spot on the portrait that I had been examining.

"Is that Muraki's half brother?" Muraki himself hadn't spoken with me about his brother, though I had a fair understanding of what he had planned for me in the basement of the Kyoto University. Even if my memory of the entire time within that cold metal tomb was fragmented to say the least.

The Specter inclined its neck towards me. "That is the Masters half-brother, yes. His name was Saki Shidou and he was the product of Yeryuto Muraki's dalliances with one of his female patients. A woman by the name of Tamiko Shidou."

"Tamiko Shidou?" I wondered out loud, convinced by a familiar twang of consciousness that this name was familiar to me somehow. Though for the life of me, I couldn't think why. I gathered I had heard it once in passing, though it hadn't been important enough to commit to memory. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, is it not? "Why is his face gone?"

The head female Specter answered this time and her deep voice sounded as empathetic as I suppose these conjurations were capable of. "The Master despises any reminders of the Shidou boys presence within the mansion. He does not enter the boys room but has erased all pictures of him outside of that boundary."

I wondered how terrible this Saki Shidou had been, if he had indeed been responsible for aiding Muraki in becoming one of the most diligently terrible foes the Summons Section had ever encountered.

"Shall we continue?" Enquired the squeaky voiced male Specter. I nodded needlessly and was just preparing to press on, when I noticed the wall just opposite where I was standing congeal slightly in the center, as though a drop of water had fallen into a great lake and disturbed the stillness. I blinked rapidly, wondering if my tired mind was just throwing things up but the disturbance occurred again, more distinctively this time. The wall liberally twitched, right in the center, forming a vague sort of circle. The next thing I knew, it had opened up completely and I looked on, utterly fascinated to see that a second vast hallway lay within the walls of the one that I and my entourage of Blank-Faced specters, currently occupied. Only the hallway that had just opened up appeared to be made of congealing pant, rust and rotted woodwork panels. And out from the newly formed entrance lunged Terazuma, face blotted with what appeared to be soot and the heel of his shoe on fire. He quickly stomped it out before spinning back around, his powerful Colt Peacemaker aimed down the passageway he had just vacated and his smouldy expression was positively livid.

"Stay the fuck BACK!" He roared and I took a step away before I realized that it wasn't me he was talking to. The unresponsive recepient of Terazuma's threat shambled from out of the rear darkness at the back of the aged hall, seeming to walk with its knees together. I couldn't understand why at first, until I it passed through the light from the single globe down the dark lane, which threw its' features into disturbingly frank perspective.

At first, it looked very much like rather short, naked human being that's ankles and upper body had been bound with mouldy rags. Then I registered that it was featureless; bearing no specific sexual organs whatsoever, though its' face was wholly more expressive than the Blank Faced Specters. Its' eye sockets were empty and though it possessed an upper jaw fringed with glaringly white teeth, there lay nothing below this, neck and throat lain bare and oozing thick viscous spurts of violently red blood. The pungently gray skin looked almost plastic; shiny and crumpling when the joints of the body moved. It had arms, though they appeared to have been amputated from just above the elbow up and it had no feet, tottering unsteadily forward on spindly stumps that somehow appeared completely formed and even natural to this bizarre creatures anatomy. Even more astonishing was the speed at which it moved. Rather than a suspected slow and languid approach, the creature moved with a kind of beautiful grace, bouncing forward on its spindly stumps, then trotting along with unexpected rapidity. The nose consisted of two sharp slits and the head was bald, though appeared to be secreting a kind of whitish substance that almost resembled semen.

I glanced at Terazuma's expression; that forced countenance of rage some people wear to mask their fear. His face was scratched and marked and there were countless tears in his shirt front, exposing raw, bloodied skin underneath. His hair was mussed, indicating that he perhaps had not had as easy a time of things as I had.

"I said STAY BACK!!" Terazuma repeated, taking a step away himself as the critter happily ignored his command and continued its' attempt to get all up in our faces. I wondered if the same principal that worked on the Blank-Faced Specters would work on this new individual, figuring it wouldn't harm none to try.

"I am Asato Tsuzuki!" I called, in a proud and happy voice. For all the good it did, I may as well have announced that I was the Ice-cream man and here's a free triple deck chocolate cone because the bound figure instead increased its' forward momentum. Terazuma turned glowing eyes toward me.

"Why on earth are you telling it your name?!" He snapped, having of course not the faintest idea why I'd just bothered to introduce myself to the approaching horror. "There were about five of these things trying to rip my guts out not two minutes ago and you wanna exchange damn pleasantries?!"

"Well, why not just shoot the damn thing?!" I inquired rudely, backing away from the opening in the wall. Our new friend was attempting to sling one of its' pointy little stumps out but was having a hard time lifting it high enough. It ended up tripping, landing face down on the carpeted floor. Not that it seemed to leave any lasting damage because a second later the damnable thing was crawling towards us, leveraging its' grotesque body along with its' shoulders and hips.

Terazuma scowled, stepping backwards and landing on the feet of one of the Blank-Faced Specters. "Oh – Geez! I would but I used up all my bullets on the other four!" His slanted eyes flashed to the Beretta 92 sitting snugly in my holster and before I could turn my hip away, he'd abruptly appropriated it. "It's no Peacemaker but it'll do-" He groaned, taking careful deliberate aim before unloading two perfectly marked shots into the back of the bound creatures cranium, splattering its' decomposed brains out through the hole in its' jaw. A revolting smell drifted up, almost gagging me as the beast shrieked and rolled backwards, onto the stumps of its' legs. It was close enough now to offer me a demonstration of just how it had been able to injure Terazuma without the use of any visible limbs. Reeling from the sudden impact, it lunged suddenly forward and three extremely thin gray arms, sporting spindly blindingly sharp nails erupted from the hole beneath its' upper jaw, each hand aiming for a different sensitive area of my body. The first hand scratched five stinging marks down my face and I only got my eyes shut just in time. I felt the sharp little nails tear my eyelids clean in two. The second hand tore open the front of my shirt, sheering clean across one of my nipples causing it to burn unbearably. The third hand made a glancing swipe at my abdomen, obviously in an attempt to send my intestines spilling across the floor but I was able to twist my body out of the way just in time. Terazuma unloaded a third bullet directly into the bowels of the creatures glaring neck cavity which felled the horror once and for all. With a final keening wail it tipped backwards onto the floor, expiring in a thick cloud of vapour.

I tenderly fingered the wounds across my face, biting my lip against the stinging sensation of my skin healing. My chest followed suit, though it still felt very tender and my nipple continued to throb and burn, even after the cut had closed over.

Once I was sure my eyelids were properly healed, I glanced up at Terazuma, wiping blood out from between my lashes. "What the fuck was that thing?"

The shape-shifter, returned to his comfortably cool façade, grunted as he spun the gun about on his fingers, managing to shift the barrel towards himself and then offering it back to me, handle first.

"Hopping corpse." He muttered, stuffing his own empty Peacemaker back into its' holster and instead tugging out his customary black baton and giving it a firm flick so that it extended to full length. This was a weapon he had favored back in his life as a policeman/detective and it was an instrument I had only ever seen him use to brilliant and devestating effect. Though some might have scoffed at a Guardian of Death enforcing such a seemingly primative human weapon (I know I did at first), Terazuma proved remarkably dilligent with it, able to bring down formidable demonic adverseries with his natural strength and skill. It was his chosen back up weapon, in situations where he wasn't able to use his ulterior form, due to considerable building restrictions.

I too had a back up weapon in this case; a Japanese tanto, a combat knife originally carried by samurai before the 16th century, used primarily (appropriately enough) as a reserve weapon. I'd had a little training in knife combat during my pre-Guardian days but this was conducted only in the event of a non-magic emergency and as such, no one except Terazuma took it very seriously. To be perfectly frank, he and Hisoka were probably the only two Guardians of Death who had any hand-to-hand combat training. The rest of us were embarrassingly inept if we found ourselves without magical enforcement.

"A hopping corpse?" I had a vague understanding of what this was, though I'd never seen one before. The idea came from ancient belief that centuries ago, if the body cart that came by the villages to deposit the dead became too full, the undertaker would bewitch the remaining corpses, forcing them to stand up and follow the cart to the place where the bodies would be desposed of. However, they couldn't risk the bodies going too far off course, taking flight or even attempting to kill the bewitcher, so before the reanimation was cast, the feet and arms would be severed (which kept the corpses perpetually off balance) and bound their ankles together, causing them to hop rather than walk. The lower jaw was also removed, to prevent the bewitched corpse from speaking; for fear that it would be used as a sort of medium, projecting dark prophecies from the Other Place.

"Ya." Terazuma grunted, poking at the wet patch on the floor where the corpse had fallen. "Trust Muraki to have something this revolting up his sleeve."

"This creature is not belonging to the master." One of the Blank-Faced Specters piped up and Terazuma, finally noticing them, raised the baton defensively as though he were preparing to knock their featureless faces right off of their necks. I raised a hand to prevent this inspired urge from going forward.

"It's okay, they're harmless." I insisted, my point enforced somewhat by one of the male specters sudden profound desire to play with my hair. "They're just majorly creepy. And damn polite too. Show you just about anything you wanna see."

"Would you like a cup of tea?" The male specter asked, head inclined towards Terazuma's fiesty expression. I don't think I had the shape-shifter entirely convinced, (Hell, I wasn't entirely convinced myself) but he showed a profound leap of faith in me by lowering the baton to his side and straightening up.

"'F'you say so." He grunted, cracking his neck from side to side as though working out a knot. "Damn fucking things ambushed me from out of a hall cupboard and when I made a dash for it, I ran down what I thought was a dead end hall. Then it just kind of… opened up."

"But… you were on the ground floor." I reasoned, glancing toward the still gaping chasm in the wall; its' edges still bubbling merrily away, reminding me unaccountably of one of Watari's potions. "How did it bring you all the way up here?"

"There were stairs." Terazuma said, walking back towards the hole and peering back inside. "Looks like it ain't used all that often either. It was just dumb luck that I happened to run across it. Probably something that Muraki guy worked into the house."

"When he was first experimenting with mana properties." One of my resident tour guides explained helpfully. "He started small and worked his way up. The placement of the hallways between the walls, was his tried and true attempt to achieve the profoundly difficult ability of metaphysical reconfiguration. A means of movement out of synch with the physical world."

Terazuma grunted in response; a grunt that conveyed so many layers and stepped back into the reconfigured passageway. "Well yippee for Muraki. I'm just glad it was here when I needed it." His dark eyes turned on me again. "You haven't caught sight of him yet, either?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I was just about to take a peek in his bedroom when you and our friend the Hippity-Hopper came barreling in."

Terazuma sighed. "No luck either. Just a whole lot a damn traps. Hope Kanuuki is watching out for herself." He added as an afterthought.

I almost teased him about his soft show of concern for his partner but thought better of it. "I'm sure she's fine. You watch your back too, alright Hajime?"

"It's Terazuma." The shapeshifter growled, turning his back on me and stomping back up into the hallway, which closed slowly to match the distance he put between it and himself. "Why is that so hard for you to remember?!"

As soon as Terazuma was safely out of sight, I requested the Blank faced specters to conduct me further forwards and we had soon arrived outside of Muraki's door. His given name was carved into a gold plate, just above face height, leaving no doubt that we had arrived at the correct bedroom.

"Would you mind waiting outside?" I asked, resting my hand on the door handle, though looking over my shoulder as I addressed my creepy, though delightfully friendly entourage. "I promise not to take anything."

"You have access. Please go right ahead." The deep voiced female declared pleasantly.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" The male asked, for the third time and I smiled, finding against all reason that I was growing quite fond of these mana servants. Even if they had been about to eat my brains not a half hour ago.

"No, that's quite alright. I won't be too long."

"Take your time." They chorused cheerfully, as I opened the door and stepped into the room. I shut the door behind me, taking a good long look around at the place Muraki resided. It immediately made me feel ashamed of my own bedroom. His room was the same size as my apartment. His bed nearly the same size as my own bedroom!

The ceiling was high and the walls painted a mellow cream. There was nothing incredibly distinctive about it, to be honest. Everything was just overwhelming because of the grand scale. The bed, though a luxurious King, had a plain embroided bedspread and lots of soft, comfy pillows and throw cushions. I couldn't believe how much room there was in it! Five or six people could have squeezed in quite comfortably.

The curtains were a royal red and tied tightly in the middle, rather similar to the curtains in the restaurant Muraki booked us into. What now felt like a million years ago. There was a couch in the same room and the biggest television I had ever seen, mounted on the floor before it. He had a living room in his own bedroom. There was a coffee table before the television and heaped upon it, (very neatly I might add) were a variety of medical texts, papers and notes, all regarding various hospital cases from what I could surmise. I even saw one document pertaining to the woman with the anueyrism; the case he had just returned from.

I walked over to a cabinet by the window, having noticed a few photo frames that appeared to be well cherished. They were the only photographs in the room.

The first one I examined was a photograph of a very young silver haired boy, holding hands with an equally young dark haired girl. They both looked embarrassed, as though they had been caught on a playdate but the girl was smiling through her embarrassent, whilst the boy continued to look uneasy. The second was a group photo and appeared to have been taken when Muraki was in high school. He looked the same as he did in the portrait but his smile seemed wholesome in this photograph and he genuinely looked as though he was having a good time. Standing next to him, at the back of the group was a tall, exceptionally handsome boy with chin length dark brown hair and almost hazel eyes. This had to be Oriya Mibu and I think I was starting to understand what Watari saw in him. If he had only continued to get progressively more handsome as he'd grown older, then he was no doubt a stunner by now! The Oriya in the picture seemed predisposed and was gazing off slightly to the side, appearing bored and haughty, but very beautifully so. Standing beside him, wearing a sweet and cheerful smile was a girl I recognized immediately as Ukyou Sakagumi, the woman I had met two weeks ago, just outside the gates of the mansion. Her hair was shorter in this picture and she seemed to be in a much better mood than when I had seen her last.

Muraki had said that she was his fianceé but in this picture, she seemed to be holding hands with the fourth figure; the boy whose face had again been cut out. The older half-brother, Saki Shidou. I placed the picture frame down, worrying at my upper lip thoughtfully. If Saki had been dating Muraki's future fianceé back in high school, then it no doubt had caused friction between them, which in later years had only added to the extreme level of hatred my paramour openly expressed towards his long deceased half-brother.

I glanced over the other photographs and witnessed Muraki on the day of his graduation; he and Ukyou standing alone with their diploma's, neither appearing particularly happy but in adverse rather sad and unsatisfied. Oriya and the brother were not included in this shot, though I figured that there were countless reasons for this and none of them had to be particularly incremental.

The next photograph showed Muraki outside what must have been the Tokyo University, standing beside a blandly smiling Oriya. That made me wonder if Oriya's family had been responsible for caring for Muraki following the deaths of both his parents. Muraki never spoke of any fellow relatives stepping up to shoulder the responsibility and surely the servants had no right to stand as an authority figure. In this photograph, Muraki had lost his weedy appearance and was starting to flesh out a bit. He looked healthy and handsome; now sporting a sophisticated pair of glasses and a familiar cocky grin. Oriya's hair was longer, as was Muraki's but something had obviously happened between high school and university because Oriya appeared much thinner and much less handsome than he had before, his skin almost pale and waxy, pressing in against the bones of his cheeks. In addition, he didn't even appear to be attending the university itself, rather just stopping in for a visit. I moved onto the next picture, pondering over this silent, untold story before me.

This was a picture of Muraki and Ukyou and I gathered from the scenary and the positioning of their bodies, that it was an engagement party. Muraki looked older here and very similar to how I best recognized him; hair covering one eye and beautifully symmetrical features. Ukyou's hair was still worn short and she had carefully cut bangs. She was a very pretty girl and her smile was disarming, so warm and innocent. Her eyes gazed up at Muraki with fondness but the depth of love I interpreted from her, didn't appear to extend as dramatically as I felt it necessary between two lovers. Or maybe I was just looking at things too deeply. She'd certainly had to have had strong feelings for him if she'd agreed to marry him. But I couldn't shake that peculiar niggling sensation that I was viewing a visual record of a scene that could most accurately be compared to how Watari and I would look tying the knot.

I gazed down at the final photo; a picture of Ukyou, Muraki and Oriya sitting on the deck of Kokakuro. This was certainly taken just shortly after Oriya was instated as master there. Ukyou was laughing, one hand up as though to ward the camera away, Oriya was looking slightly surly, a shamisen balanced on his lap and fingers poised atop the strings as though he'd just been in the midst of playing it when the camera operator had interupted. Muraki was smoking a cigarette, appearing unconcerned by the camera's presence.

I was looking at a group of people who had apparently been friends since they were teenagers, though in Muraki and Ukyou's apparent case, perhaps longer still. Since childhood. But what of the brother, Saki Shidou, who had been part of the group in high school but was now callously cut from physical memory by Muraki's lingering grudge? It seemed sad to me somehow that this was the result, especially when the teenaged Muraki had appeared so happy in that photograph… what could have gone so wrong?

My soul heavy with the weight of unanswered questions and empathetic regrets, I steered myself towards the bed and after shucking my shoes off, lay down upon the freshly pressed sheets, arms crossed languidly behind my head, cushioned by the numerous amounts of pillows beneath me. There had been no photographs of me on the stand, not a bare hint to indicate that Muraki had pursued me visciously since childhood, when he'd first stumbled across the photograph of me in his Grandfather's file. Then it occurred to me of course that he couldn't just parade it out in the open, especially if he was engaged to Ukyou. Perhaps he kept the photo of me close. In his inside jacket pocket or even in his wallet. And then I wondered if he would risk taking it with him today, when he was going to visit Ukyou?

Having considered this, I rolled over and opened the bedside drawers one at a time, finding what I had been searching for by the fourth drawer. There it was, that same picture of me in the hospital bed, one eye bandaged over, the other blankly staring. It was well worn and dog eared around the edges, as though handled many times over.

I took the photograph out and stared up at it, into the face of my once living self. I wondered if Muraki spent many nights, lying in bed, staring at this photo and thinking about me? My face flushed furiously as such a deviant thought passed through my mind, that I could scarcely believe I had the audacity to consider it. I found myself wondering if whilst looking at this picture if Muraki had ever masturbated to it? Visualizing myself actually enacting his lurid fantasies as he worked his hand down over his cock, squeezing and pulling and moaning my name, perhaps brushing his tongue over his bottom lip, throat dry as he visualized my naked body squirming beneath him, bucking on the end of that thick hard shaft I had only ever witnessed the once…

Blood rushed to my groin and I could actually feel myself becoming aroused by my own lurid imagination. It was difficult not to enjoy it however, regardless of how creepy and perverted it may have seemed. It was glorious to think of someone becoming that aroused by me, someone viewing me as a sexual object. (Someone who wasn't the Count anyway…) I worked my hand down over the front of my pants and squeezed the developing bulge I found there, gasping as a spike of sweet pain seemed to bury itself in the dead of my guts. What I really wanted to do, was just tug my cock out and give it a good working over, do what I had just imagined Muraki doing whilst thinking about me. I wondered, that when Muraki and I eventually made love (It was not so much a possibility now as it was a certainty. The only irregular variable in this was when) whether it would be here? Was this the place that I would finally surrender my long maintained chastity? I wouldn't have minded so much. The bed would be a simply divine place to make love. So big… and soft… I could just see myself lying face down, hands gripping a pillow tightly and muffling my cries as Muraki moved in behind me and thrust himself deep between my buttocks, raging fire through my loins and splintering my inhibitions like dried twigs.

I was becoming far too aroused by such thoughts and it was with a heavy heart (and an even heavier groin) that I reigned myself in forcefully and placed the photograph of myself back where I had found it. One could only dally on such thoughts for so long and after contemplating a few distracting images (such as Mr. Konoe in a mink teddy) that my hormones reluctantly allowed themselves to be bridled and I left Muraki's bedroom composed in mind and body.

I made a few half-hearted glances into the neighboring rooms as I walked back towards the hall entrance, listening to the consistent commentary supplied by my blank-faced hosts with only one ear open. That is until we came across one particular doorway that forced me into performing a double take as I very nearly strolled past it.

Just like Muraki's door, the name of the intended occupant had been carved into a gold plate, positioned just a little above eye height. Unlike Muraki's however, the name of the occupant was unclear. In fact, the name had been scratched out. Another name, written in what appeared to be a black marker, scrawled beneath the plate in what was unmistakably a childs hand, was also indecipherable, as it too had been scribbled out. Another name beneath that one was also struck out and so determinedly as such that it was entirely impossible to tell what these names had initially read. A line of thick black question marks seemed to underline the rejected names and these themselves had been deeply etched with the black marker and leaned hastily to one side as though written in intense frustration.

I whipped the mahogany journal out of my inside jacket pocket and sure enough, the inability to adequately name the occupant and owner was identical. This could hardly be a coincidence. The owner of this room and the author of the journal were one in the same.

"Um… whose room is this?" I asked, looking over my shoulder to prompt an answer from my unusually silent entourage. The faces stared at me blankly and for once their nature seemed to entirely match their faces because they appeared unable to provide me with the answer I sought.

I tried a different tact. "Is it his brothers?" I played a hunch. "Kazutaka's, I mean. Is this… was this, Saki Shidou's room?"

This relief from exorcising any leniances seemed to work for the Blank-Faced Spectars and they collectively relaxed. I knew because their shoulders all lowered as one, as though they had been holding them stiff since the moment we had faced this door.

"That is correct." Said the female spectar, her featureless features aimed towards me. "But we cannot speak about this room. The young master has requested we maintain a certain… reverence, if you will."

I tried to open the door but it was locked.

"No one goes in," confirmed the male spectar. "It is not cleaned and it is not seen. The young master maintains that we treat it as a gentleman must treat a woman; not to enter unless given express permission."

I snorted with a certain lack of grace. Trust Muraki to make that manner of comparison. Typical bloody pervert. And typical bloody hypocrite at that!

Now gentleman I may have been but I was also intrigued nonetheless by the answers this room no doubt held. I had come across this journal in the Other Place, therefore, there must have been a connection. And therefore, I had every justifiable reason, for blowing the lock off the door.

"You mustn't!" Protested the male blank-faced specter as I shouldered open the door and stepped inside, reholstering my beretta as I did.

"But I must." I insisted, watching with some amusement as the Blank-Faced specters tried to decide whether it was worth pursuing me into the room and sort of compromising by jamming themselves into the doorway, making it impossible for either of us to make it in or out of the room. Whilst they tried to resolve this little debacle, I took in my surroundings with an excitable air of one whom was about to figure something out.

It was a very normal boys room. The bed, wedged into the far corner, was single and covered in blue sheets. In fact, the entire room had a rather blue feel about it. The curtains were drawn and a thick layer of dust coated everything, supporting the Specters words that this room was not entered at all, not even to be cleaned.

The walls were plastered with posters of movies that must have been showing at the time the boy had last set foot in this room, motorbikes and cars, most with half naked, g-string clad girls adorning the bumpers or respective leather seats. The boy certainly had guts hanging such things in the house of such a prestiged family and I couldn't help but admire his cheek. It reminded me of something Watari might have done when he was a teenager.

The top of the chest of drawers to one side of the room was so packed with photographs that they were hanging off of the wooden sides, a few already littered across the floor. I peered at all of them and was delighted to find that these particular pictures had not received Muraki's ill treatement. For the first time I was able to glimpse the face of the boy known as Saki Shidou.

He and Hisoka could have been twins and I had said as much the first time I had seen him; outside of the restaurant, where I was to meet Muraki for dinner. Only Saki appeared slightly more rouguish, judging by the quirk of his upper lip, which suggested he was something of a scallywag, to say the least. He was smiling and laughing in every photograph, whereas Hisoka would barely smile at a pay rise.

And I thought it was no wonder the name across the door and diary were scribbled out because the boy I had met, introduced himself as Pandora; the pets name given to him by the demon he was no doubt contracted to call master. I wasn't a hundred percent certain how the Pet process went exactly but I gathered it caused a severe identity crisis, as the pet struggled to come to terms with who they were in the present and who they were before their untimely death.

Pandora was Saki Shidou.

- End Part One -