Preface: Not much to say. Voila. Kyouya is a Shinigami with all the perks. And he meets some of the YnM cast. Oh and Watari has his Kansai accent. Nothing major on plot movement yet, but there will be.
Slipping on his recently pressed suit, Kyouya gently tapped his glasses in place and scanned the mirror pleased with the immaculate sophistication his image presented. While dry-cleaning was horrendously expensive in comparison to how much the paychecks distributed, his own attempts at ironing were less than satisfactory. Locking the door with a much lighter folder in hand since he had removed all references to the Processing Section, he stepped out of the apartment, focusing on the cherry grove outside of the Ministry and disappeared. A burst of wind carrying fresh blossoms flowed around him enticingly tugging at the lapels of his coat. The Shinigami ability to teleport was certainly a freeing experience, given that he had been walking to work ever since he arrived, since he was unwilling to pay monthly to rent a bicycle like other workers.
Entering the building, he absently nodded towards a few early workers who had called his name. Happily breaking from habit, he continued onward up the long staircase, instead of turning left at the first intersection. Kyouya first noticed how very quiet and still it was. He imagined magic blocking noise waves from the lower offices to prevent disturbing the constant committee meetings occurring behind the impractically tall, ornately gilded doors at the top of the long flight of stairs. Inspecting the door only briefly at a distance of several meters, he turned right, down the dark, foreboding hallway lit only by two ambient lights connected to the wall. The effect was rather tasteless to him. Non-Shinigami, previously-human personnel, excluding chiefs and other higher-ranked officials, were simply not allowed down this restricted hall, leaving nearly a fourth of the building solely for this section's use.
Stopping less than a meter away from the door underneath the sign entitled 'Summons Section', it opened inward towards the office for him and a blue-eyed man stopped mid-motion, dressed in an old-style brown suit. The man looked down at him curiously through similarly old-styled, though too thin-framed to match, glasses with a couple of file folders in hand. The man's fashion was at least fifty years out of date, and the modern materials that made up the glasses looked out of place. Kyouya absently wondered what had befallen the first pair, since his had been generously replaced. "Ootori?"
At the teen's nod and smile, the distracted man of late twenties checked his contemporary Rolex watch with a satisfied smile. "You're right on time. My name is Seiichirou Tatsumi. Please follow me." After the dim hallway, the door swung open to a bright contrast of light streaming in through the windows on the opposite wall showing a great view of the back area of the Ministry. Straight ahead of Kyouya was a gargantuan, ancient copier machine and along the office's remaining walls were tall filing cabinets with disheveled stacks of folders on top. Seven desks covered the main floor, which was curious since there were precisely eighteen Shinigami. At least the decorator abstained from adding cubicles in an already cramped space. Needless to say, Kyouya's first impression of the office was how inefficiently and unorganized the workspace was.
Tatsumi set the files on the only occupied desk of the pointy-eared worker, whose legs were propped up on the table. "Mr. Terazuma. If you would please deliver these to the Judgment Section for processing…"
The lax Shinigami of mid-twenties, face marked with peculiar shapes, stood rigidly, and yet casually grabbed the files tapping them haphazardly against his shoulder.
"Sure thing, Secretary." With only a cursory eye flick at their newest member, he muttered warnings of a frightening temper under his breath.
Kyouya coolly watched the interesting man leave, mind more on the parasitic summon that possessed the man than on Tatsumi, who was discussing the work climate and expectations.
They entered another office, slightly smaller than the one that housed the workers. As they passed the eighth desk on their left, Tatsumi nodded to the elderly-looking man sitting down behind another much-larger desk. "Chief Konoe, this is Kyouya Ootori."
The teen bowed politely remaining silent, merely observing his new boss. Chief Konoe, stood up with the slow grace of the elderly, dressed in a more modern business style than Tatsumi, and walked around the immense desk to return a slight bow at him. Neither of their eyes had been drawn to the jewelry on his ear, which the teen found peculiar. Either they didn't notice it or they were ignoring it, and since he knew neither of them he was unable to determine which was the case.
"Nice to meet you, Kyouya. I hope Tatsumi hasn't been boring you with details?"
Kyouya suppressed the cruel smirk threatening the corners of his lips, wondering whether Chief Konoe had been given a personality profile before their meeting. "No, he has been helpful."
"Good!" Konoe took his word for it effortlessly; the man either was cunning or had merely been making small talk.
His boss walked to the small table with a hot water machine and a jar of dark tea leaves and made himself a fresh cup of tea that smelled like Oolong from across the room. "Tatsumi, this is your new partner. You'll be mentoring him for the duration of the year until he has control over his abilities."
At Tatsumi's reaction, Kyouya's face remained still as his fingers delicately removed the pen from his front coat pocket and cracked open his folder. With a quick click, he wrote down his observations of the morning so far in his usual shorthand code that he used before compiling raw data into profiles on events, places, or people, and then detailed what was transpiring now.
The man had frozen at those words as if it was taking a moment for the orders to sink in. Only just then noticing the black clasp on his ear, Tatsumi with an intense, penetrating look, but a polite smile, spoke to Kyouya civilly, though it was heavily undertoned with a darkness that completely negated his attempt at cordiality. "You're a shadow user, Ootori?"
Tatsumi's tension was most likely emotional distress from anxiety or anger, and, connecting the dots with words on paper, Kyouya suspected that his mentor hadn't even been given the courtesy of being told the nature of his arrival. Choosing his words carefully, Kyouya stopped writing and smiled evenly. "I believe 'user' indicates a significant ability of control."
That tension seemed to rush out of the man as Tatsumi smiled back, as if genuinely struck by what the teen had said. "It does." Kyouya smothered his smirk. The man was easy to manipulate. Still smiling, the secretary gave an unhappy look at their chief who showed no remorse for the surprise. "You could have at least given me a warning. I'm hardly prepared to teach anything at this time."
"If I had, you would have found a way to refuse, and you know very well the repercussions of that." Sipping his tea carefully, the Chief smiled kindly with a mischievous gleam to his eyes. "As for not being prepared, think of the next week as a planning week. You are free of all of your responsibilities except Kyouya, so be sure to show him around, Tatsumi."
"Yes, Chief." With a set stiffness to his shoulders, the taller man walked out of the office with Kyouya in tow. They both bid their chief a polite farewell. The door closed to Konoe's office with a snick of finality. They exchanged wary glances cloaked by smiles.
Neither Chief nor Tatsumi had even looked strangely at Kyouya when he was writing notes. Perhaps it was a more common thing than he was aware. Or maybe they were used to quirkier characters.
There was a sudden loud explosion nearby that rumbled the ground under their feet and rattled the large window. Heaving a tired sigh, Tatsumi adjusted his glasses. A habit perhaps expressing his annoyance, Kyouya noted. "Not now, Watari…"
On their way across the office space, Kyouya noticed a bulletin board hanging on the wall to the left of the door with written statuses of Shinigami, but decided to inspect it later. Opening the door into the smoke-filled hallway, Tatsumi strode into the haze directly towards the billowing smoke and the coughing soot-covered longhaired man who was currently attempting to clean his round-framed glasses on an equally grimy coat that was typical of a doctor or scientist. Having followed a bit more cautiously, Kyouya was betting on the latter.
"Mr. Watari." The maniacal grin on his mentor's face was somewhat fear-provoking as the man looked more deranged than the unhinged appearance of the other smoke-stained Shinigami. Standing at an observable distance away, Kyouya was surprised that he had no profile on the man, and made a note to ask Watari if he was related to Nina as there was quite a resemblance between them.
"Tatsumi!!" Watari exclaimed in an obviously exaggerated tone of surprise. It was obvious this scene occurred quite frequently. If explosions were common, Kyouya didn't know how they had escaped his notice before, though he hesitated assuming magic was its probable fix, since he had little knowledge in that area.
"Consider your budget proposal refused." Laughing inwardly, Kyouya wanted to know how Tatsumi would do that if Konoe had relieved him of all his duties, but said nothing.
"I dìn't damage nothin' that expensive! Cross my heart!" When Watari flailed arms in their general direction glasses in hand, a bird—a miniature owl, Kyouya corrected—also soot-covered flapped lightly in the nest of grimy blond hair. This Watari was definitely quirkier than the teen, and, apparently nearsighted, only spotting Kyouya when he moved forward to jab a finger at Tatsumi. Backing up a bit, Watari dropped his hands, squinting at the teen. "Hooh, who's that with ya?"
Before Tatsumi could speak for him, he closed his folder and stepped forward, bowing slightly as he introduced himself.
The man blinked down at him quietly, then grinned brightly, plopping the smudged glasses back on his face only then giving Kyouya a once over. "My, my. The appearance s'alike an' jus' as stuffy as ya, Tatsumi!" With a flourish of his coat and a forefinger upraised to his jaw, he turned back to Tatsumi. The overall effect created tension between his effeminate body movement and masculine Kansai dialect. "Ya've finally bìn reassigned?" Switching gears, he turned enthusiastically back to the Kyouya. "That means yer a shadow user, huh, Kiddo? Aren't ya here 30 years too early tho'? S'probably a good thing since Tatsumi stopped routine assignments. S'bìn about fifteen years …"
At that, the ex-secretary's right cheek and eye twitched violently, growling 'Watari' out before snapping at the honey blond man in lecture format.
Hiding the affront of being designated as 'Kiddo' behind a cool mask and ignoring the line of questioning, Kyouya reopened his folder, keenly interested on the hints of a blackmailing opportunity. He was nearly a hundred percent convinced that this man had been a scientist while he was alive. Most doctors, even pediatricians, held themselves with the air of dignity that was expected of them, though if enough time passed personalities and training could change, he supposed. Scientists and doctors alike were known to be wacky after periods of isolation during research.
Having blocked the majority of Tatsumi's lecture out, Kyouya's attention came back just as Tatsumi threw a very long printout out to demonstrate his point. There was still a bit left folded when the end touched the ground. "This is how much the Ministry has spent on you from destroying your lab and surrounding areas for the past three months!! Until you better value the funds you are given, you will have to make do with your monthly salary." Without further word, he folded the printout neatly, stuffed it back into his inner coat pocket, and walked coolly by the husk of the 'lab'.
Now that the smoke had dispersed, Kyouya briefly examined the room not minding that Tatsumi had stormed off, seeing mangled science equipment and the typical layout of furnishing one would find in a science lab. He firmly labeled Watari as an unsafe scientist, briefly speculating if a similar explosion had killed him and noting not to participate in any experiments if met with an offer.
"S'charming as ever." Wistful, sad eyes looked towards the direction that Tatsumi had left in, and then with a deep breath and a smile, the man turned to Kyouya. "My name's Yutaka Watari, Ministry's only Shinigami that doubles as a scientist an' doctor, 'n charge of Sector 6, Kinki Prefecture."
A loud hoot punctuated the air. "Oh an' this's 003." Cupping the tiny bird that hooted softly and cocked her head intelligently in his hands, he mimicked his owl unconsciously tilting his head smiling at their newest member disregarding how fanatical he looked with his hair frizzed out on one side.
"He was relieved of his position this morning upon my introduction to Chief Konoe."
"Ohhhh?" His voice undulated carefully, setting the owl back into his hair and waved his right hand. "He can't cut my budget anyway, tho' he can refuse my proposals all he likes. He jus' gets worked up when all his hard work 'n budgetin' goes to waste. Since he got the job, he started a retirement fund fer those've us who are stayin' after we retire, y'see. An' whenever we damage too much property he can't add to it."
"I see." Kyouya's hand was furiously writing. That meant there were others within the Summons Section that were in the same situation as he was. People who Enma wished to keep nearby.
Spending less than a half second staring at his folder and pen, Watari grinned. "Don't let him bully ya too much, ok, Kiddo? Now gìt goin'! Tatsumi s'a stickler fer procedure. Plus, 003 s'gonna kill me if I don't give her a bath soon! Bye!" Tossing a wink, he walked directly back into his destroyed lab, splashing through the slowly draining puddles of water leftover from the sprinklers going off.
Jotting the last of the observations he had and pocketing the pen, Kyouya walked towards the Shinigami-only dojo, which he suspected Tatsumi had disappeared into.
--
After he had left, Watari cheerfully cleaned his owl carefully under warm water and gentler variety of soap. She hooted and chirped lowly, as he toweled her off.
"Ya thought he was a strange Kiddo too, huh? What d'ya think he wrote down about us 'n that folder of his?" A clucking of beak snapping, a shiver, and ruffling of feathers later had poofed her out to twice her size. "Ya really think so?" The scientist laughed. "Personally, I thought he had kind eyes behind all that schemin' calculation, not unlike Kazu's." Another soft hoot, and he ran a knuckle down her back. "Agreed. Whatever happens, things should start gettin' interestin' again."
Both falling silent, the scientist stared out the small window across from his computer desk untouched from the chaos of the explosion and sprinklers. Barrier spells seemed infinitely durable, especially when made by a certain someone in the Ministry.
"Least he's close ta Kid's age."
A distressing hoot sounded the owl's agreement.
--
Finding Tatsumi standing by the dojo, Kyouya removed his shoes after him and followed him into a private room that seemed more suited for a conference of many rather than two.
"Sit." The ex-secretary had brewed them some green tea in well-used cups, setting one for Kyouya and one for himself before sitting quietly across from him at the low table, sipping at his cup. His eyes showed he was deep in thought, so Kyouya decided not to interrupt, enjoying the moment of silence.
Tatsumi was a great deal grateful that their best team was not due to arrive until tomorrow. He hoped it would be later rather than sooner. After several minutes of contemplative, comfortable silence, Tatsumi leaned back into the chair setting his cup down.
"Have you already researched the history of the shadow users?"
"I have." Opening his folder, Kyouya summarized the most important details. "Some books mention that the shadow ability could be the result of a parasitic summon refusing to sever contract after its master befell disaster and melded together with the soul in order to save it, granting the soul with inhuman abilities. However, because of the frequency of shadow users, most experts agree that the shadow ability is merely a blood trait, possibly placed on certain souls due to some forgotten contract with Lord Enma."
After that explanation, he dryly read off the names of the most important previous users based on their discoveries. After that, Kyouya generalized that mastery appeared to be highly individualized varying from person to person, which required that master shadow users mentor novice shadow users to proficiency. However the part that Kyouya had failed to find as he combed through all those texts were the details of how one went about controlling them. He flipped the folder closed and placed it in his lap for further referencing as he needed.
Tatsumi's eyebrows lifted at his trainee's use of the folder. "That's correct. I assume you haven't yet discovered where the starting point is for you?"
It was a rhetorical question of course so Kyouya didn't answer. Eyes flicking to the ear-clasp, Tatsumi offered a hand, palm up. The universal beggar sign seemed at odds with his poise. "Remove it."
Not questioning despite all previous attempts at removal being fruitless, Kyouya's hand moved to the clasp, which suddenly fell off on its own accord and bounced once on the table directly into Tatsumi's palm. Kyouya stared at the wiggling device briefly before looking coolly at his teacher.
It was the strangest sensation being in the same room as another shadow user, especially when the shadows flocked and flooded around him and ignored his teacher. Already the shadows seemed eager, curling around his legs and up his torso. Almost immediately after, he found himself suffocating in the dark cloud around him, but then it was physically split and pushed away by other shadows controlled by his mentor.
"Apparently, your research missed the part about the cannibalistic nature of our abilities." Adjusting his glasses, Tatsumi sipped his tea, not further commenting on how Kyouya's errant shadows had nearly smothered him. The clasp had been created attuned to Kyouya's unique soul signature, and, rolling it around in his hand, he felt a strangely familiar signature. "Do you know when your ability seems the most out of control?"
"No." The shadows receded held back and quivering, cut off from him. They itched, but Kyouya knew better than to touch them again. The thought of sharing them felt abnormal as well when he could keenly sense Tatsumi's energy on them. Flipping his folder open, he jotted his experiences, frightening or mediocre, down.
"Ah." Going over his choices to approach the topic, Tatsumi turned the clasp over in his hand looking at it and remembering his own months of leaning. "It is the inherent nature of our ability to gather shadows of consumption when we are least like ourselves. To control is to simply find what mindset presents the most control over those shadows."
His pupil remained dutifully silent, the scratching of the pen the only noise in the room. The shadows suddenly ceased their constant struggle under Tatsumi's vigilant restraint, and the pen-scratching stilled as Kyouya looked up with what seemed like an uncharacteristic smirk and calculation evident on his face. "I believe calmness would be it."
Taken aback, Tatsumi looked skeptical, but decided if his pupil was wrong it wouldn't be a difficult to batten the shadows down again. Some lessons were best learned through mistakes. "I will release them then."
The shadows lay thick around Kyouya but did not stick to him or even seem to notice him. As they began to dissolve back to their normal states, Tatsumi looked troubled, but masked it with a pleasant smile, standing. "I suppose that's enough for today. I have to go prepare lessons for you."
Giving him a bored look, Kyouya's tone was enriched with dry sarcasm. "If that was all I needed to know to control them, then thank you for the lessons, master." Closing his folder, he stood up looking disdainfully down at Tatsumi.
"Affix it", was the response he received.
As he had turned to leave, the clasp flew up and pinched his ear painfully. Having such a handicap with a master shadow user was not what he called fair play, but such was life. His features had naturally returned to calmness.
Stifling his anger at Kyouya's arrogant rudeness, Tatsumi stood glasses having acquired a dangerous glint as his shadows twitched. "Until I permit it, you are not allowed without Lord Enma's restriction. Knowing how to control is much easier than doing it." A smirk played over Tatsumi's features then as if he had recalled something, while his tone sounded overconfident to Kyouya's ears. "I had heard rumors that you moved out of the company dormitories already. You realize outside funds are illegal here and may require you to have several privileges revoked if you are found guilty? Shared housing will be the least of your worries."
Serenely, Kyouya met his eyes without dropping his gaze in response to a challenge. If the ex-secretary wanted to play a game he had mastered while alive, why would he question his mentor's folly? "Do you happen to know a tea in a famous tea shop called 'Tatsumi of Kyoto'?"
With a murderously suppressed flinch, Tatsumi squared his shoulders with a light shrug. "Of course. Your point?"
Continuing on, Kyouya's smile broadened. "There is allegedly a tragic tale behind its name. Supposedly, an adolescent boy began working at a newspaper business to keep his family from going bankrupt doing all manner of grunt jobs. His father gambled tenaciously after the war was lost, abandoning his position as head of a once-prestigious family. As a result, since both himself and his brother were too young to take charge, the duty fell on his mother, who was terrible at maintaining—"
"Are you aware that threatening me with blackmail will do little for your case?" Tatsumi interrupted abruptly, his shadows licking up the walls around them.
"Hm." Kyouya eyed his shadows then smiled, pulling his folder out to jot down several notes. "So you truly are the infamous great-grand-uncle."
"As you've researched, the ability is passed down through the generations, generally skipping every four or so. Personally, I didn't know whose descendant you were." His condescending tone expressed that he didn't quite care either. It seemed implausible that his younger brother's genes had generated such a sharp kid, but the only other one who could have had never settled down to marry or have children.
Kyouya flipped to the front of his folder, eyes flicking over the page. "There was also a rumor of an old office romance about the time you effectively quit being an active Shinigami."
"Which is greatly exaggerated I can assure you. Tsuzuki and I were never more than coworkers."
"Yes, of course." No one had mentioned names. Chuckling to himself, he circled Tsuzuki's name. It was amusing to find out why Tatsumi had borne no children despite being moderately wealthy a few years before his premature death, and very rare to find a man who had had no ambitions of marrying. His conclusion would have infuriated his paternal grandparents, who were as narrow-minded as ultra-conservative thinkers could get, not that he ever minded encouraging their contempt.
Restraining his stubborn anger, Tatsumi tried to unruffle the feathers that his pupil had purposefully disturbed. "If you are so eager to be free of my tutelage, I will test you tomorrow night on your influence over the shadows in the area behind the Ministry. If you fail, you will remain under my guidance without complaint."
"And assuming I win, I suppose the seal on my ability will be removed, and your shoddy guidance will cease."
"Fortunately that will be the case, though I wonder if you will regret that?" His teacher's cheek had an unfortunate tic to it, possibly a symptom of the excessive stress Kyouya induced in him.
"Am I dismissed?" Kyouya merely replied brushing aside the pointless warning. He already knew the danger, having experienced just a taste of it only ten minutes ago.
"Yes." The ex-secretary smiled, all predilection towards anger gone from his face, though the smile was more of a predatory baring of teeth. "If you need anything of me, I'll be in my office." His soon-to-be ex-mentor then excused himself, and took a swift exit.
After waiting a few minutes as he finished his green tea, Kyouya re-entered the main floor of the dojo, and paused at the familiar sight of a strawberry blond teen, dressed in a gi and hakama, his arms and neck wrapped in bandages. As the teen performed a series of planned moves with a bo, Kyouya could tell the teen was skilled, maybe not as skilled as Haninozuka, but he might match Morinozuka evenly in a fight. Suddenly green eyes with cat-like pupils prickled at him probably aggravated at his scrutinizing. The staff was propped against his shoulder as he padded towards Kyouya.
With a slight tilt of his head, the Shinigami introduced himself politely. "The name's Hisoka Kurosaki."
Despite his informality, Kyouya recognized pedigree when he heard it. "A pleasure to meet you. My name is Kyouya Ootori." Kyouya said naturally with a polite bow, which was returned.
Kurosaki wasn't a particularly wealthy or traveled family, but their lineage was old. Kyouya only knew of the name because their young successor, the one standing before him, had died quite suddenly of an atypical skin disease in an Ootori facility. The suddenness and mystery of his death had concerned his father, who had theorized that the young Kurosaki's symptoms were possibly a new assassination poison, undetectable and cause for concern, especially since Nagare, the head of the Kurosakis, and his wife had been murdered in a gory, unnatural fashion a few days before Hisoka's affliction appeared. However, the fact remained that Hisoka had died right after his 18th birthday about eight years ago, about the time Kyouya was enrolled in 4th grade and his older brothers were in high school.
Cracking open his folder, Kyouya began correcting a scantly filled profile. He must have heard wrong when he had learned from the Gushoushin Kurosaki's physical characteristics months ago, which was why he hadn't recognized him. "What form of Martial arts were you just practicing?
Hisoka peered curiously at his folder, not sure how to take the quirk. "Way of the Spear."
The black-haired Shinigami nodded, not that interested in his fighting style. "A classic. Would you be open to a sparring match? Once I am able to remove this, that is." With a gesture, he pointed out the clasp. There wasn't any recognition on Kurosaki's face, though he hadn't expected any.
"What weapon would you use? I'm no good at hand to hand."
"My shadows to any weapon of your choice."
There was a sharp intake of breath, but there was no change in his demeanor at the disclosure. "I thought Mr. Tatsumi looked pissed when he left." He stated wryly, by way of explanation. After a long pause where Hisoka looked like he would present a question, Hisoka finally spoke hesitantly. "I remember you now from several weeks back. You almost snuck up on me."
"Oh?" Having previously heard several hints of Kurosaki's ability by the Gushoushin, his interest was piqued wishing to fill the gaps. "That doesn't happen often, I take it?"
"No. But then, there's only two shadow users around so… Why was Mr. Tatsumi angry?" He switched the subject quickly, stretching his legs as a cool down exercise, thinking he might be talking for a while.
"Our personalities aren't conducive to a teacher-student relationship."
"I see. Then that would make you his reluctant student?" Legs done, he worked on his torso and arms.
Kyouya half-shrugged, gesturing lightly with his pen-hand. "I'd more define it as unwilling, quite frankly. I'm curious though. How long have you been partnered with Mr. Tsuzuki?"
That earned him a suspicious look as Hisoka resumed leaning against his bo. "How did you know that?"
"It isn't that hard to overhear office gossip." Kyouya smiled enigmatically.
"About five years. Though that idiot probably doesn't keep track of time like normal people." Hisoka's tone had an edge of petulance to it.
"Were you looking forward to an anniversary?" Kyouya stated with reserved amusement, interested in how Hisoka would react.
"Why would—" Cheeks slightly tinged red, whether in embarrassment or anger was unknown, Kurosaki's jaw shut tightly, and then loosened to mumble. "It's nothing special."
"Mm."
The sliding door to the dojo slammed open, as a frantic man with very dark brown, unkempt hair and his suit wrinkled stumbled in. "Hisokaaaaaaaa!" he whined out, breathing heavily. "You need to at least tell me where you're going! First, Tatsumi yelled at me and then the Gushoushin—" Blinking odd purple eyes at the unfamiliar teen standing next to his partner, Tsuzuki straightened and smiled widely. "Oh hello there! I'm Asato —"
"Tsuzuki, in charge of the Kyushu prefecture. I'm Kyouya Ootori. Nice to meet you." Kyouya answered for him, only surprised that Tsuzuki was almost as tall as he was for being nearly a century old.
Hisoka glanced at Kyouya curious at the sudden shift in tone.
"Ah.. y-yeah. Same here." Tsuzuki tried not to let the newbie's piercing stare unsettle him, already feeling vaguely insulted by Kyouya's abruptness, and looked to his partner for help, who uncooperatively glared at him. "Welcome to the Summons Section!" He forced a grin on his face, resolute to remain mature in the face of an unpleasant personality.
Kyouya shoved memories of his best friend down, whom the man before him looked and sounded nothing like, but whose presence did. The energy Tsuzuki brought into the room was undeniable. There was now little question as to why people either hated or adored him. "If you'll excuse me for being brief, but do you know of a way to remove a seal placed by Lord Enma?" If anyone knew how, it would be the most experienced member.
All movement stilled as the two Shinigami collectively held their breaths at his utterance of taboo. Tsuzuki's face had become seriously stony eyes scanning his face, while Kurosaki looked shocked.
"When it comes to an Enma seal, I'm afraid no one but Lord Enma knows that, Kyouya." Tsuzuki spoke evenly, not at all worried about the familiarity with which he used his name. "However, as a novice shadow user, only your master can remove it for good. I guess you were the 'mouthy brat' Tatsumi was muttering about when he was watering his plants." He grinned, eyes laughing. "What the hell did you say to him to set him off?"
"I merely postulated a few things he took offense to. Nothing more." Nodding towards the both of them, Kyouya walked away opening his folder to write some notes. "I have other things to take care of, so please excuse me. Good day, Mr. Kurosaki. Mr. Tsuzuki." He headed towards the library to research more about his ability to see if there was a way to practice control techniques before the clasp came off. It had become painfully obvious and surprisingly difficult to remove the mask of social grace he had spent a lifetime perfecting, but he would not let that cause a humiliating loss by his own shadows.
--
"What a weird kid." The old Shinigami said as he scratched his head after Kyouya left. "Were you able to read anything from him, Hisoka?"
"Like Mr. Tatsumi, I don't sense anything coming from him. It's like a void where there should be a person."
They stood there looking at each other, before Tsuzuki broke his gaze away with a grin.
"Most people don't recognize me on sight. Even Tatsumi was amazed in a disgruntled sorta way." Tsuzuki voiced his thoughts softly.
"I get the impression he's used to a more demanding setting, where he needs to know who's who. Do you know which section he transferred from?"
"Yeah, Tatsumi said the Processing Section."
Hisoka paused, and then asked a question that had bothered him for some time. "Tsuzuki, isn't its true purpose to prepare people for the culture shock of the Ministry's work environment?"
"It's also for people who have time in purgatory to spend, but no office skills. I went there, and so did Tatsumi. And don't pretend you didn't start off there!" Tsuzuki added in a teasing voice. "You can't learn anything about someone who came from that place because it's full of people from all walks of life."
His partner shrugged, keeping his thoughts to himself. "We've got those reports to finish, and I'm not doing yours again. Maybe I should suggest to Chief that you get temporarily transferred?"
Whimpering, Tsuzuki explained that it wasn't his fault that the reports hated him and the ink pens ran out of ink, et cetra. To which Hisoka mentally attributed to his partner's ongoing laziness as he went into the backroom to change out of his workout clothes, Tsuzuki following with a running commentary. The idiot simply wouldn't leave him alone offering daily to change the bandages that wrapped him snuggly like a mummified corspe, but left his fingers and head exposed, but then it was just another of the hundreds of ways his partner worried about him.
TBC.