17th May: re-uploaded this section. Seems that the end bit was missing. Sorry!

Norata's restaurant specialised in ramen noodles. His wife welcomed them in, and they were served by his daughter, a bubbly young woman in her late teens. She all but swooned over the doctor, fussed over Tsuzuki like he was a long lost relative, and fell head over heels for the Gushoshin sitting on Tsuzuki's shoulder.

"Awww, it's so adorable!!" She patted the hat on its head. "How much is it? I've heard about such robotic animals, but I never knew they were so life- like!"

"I'm not robotic!"

"It talks!! Oh my, I want to have one too. It's just like a pet without the mess. How much is it?"

Tsuzuki smiled sheepishly. "Ah, well..."

"I'm not a pet! No one owns me! Especially not this idiot--"

Tsuzuki grabbed the Gushoshin's beak to shut it up. "It's a prototype," he explained. "Look for it on the shelves next Christmas. By then we'll have modified the talk function so that it grumbles less."

"Mmmmph! Mmmph!!" the Gushoshin said, shaking its head from side to side as it tried to free its beak.

Everyone laughed. Even Muraki chuckled.

Tsuzuki smiled until his face ached. Playing the clown came as easily to him as falling off a log. It was the best way he knew to overcome awkward social situations such as his current predicament. As Muraki enquired about the daughter's health, Tsuzuki was well aware that he was the outsider in their midst: a strange man with a talking bird who was only eating with them because they were under the misapprehension that he was the 'intimate friend' of their venerated doctor.

Such mistakes occurred with depressing regularity when he and Muraki were in the same vicinity. It was so incredibly humiliating.

"Tsuzuki-san, would you like some sake?" Muraki asked, on the verge of filling his cup.

He wanted to say yes, but he needed his wits about him tonight. "No, thank you."

Muraki paused, his long graceful fingers clasped around the china bottle. "Not even a little?"

Tsuzuki eyed him warily. Did Muraki know about his weakness for sake?

"You will offend the host if you don't accept." Muraki filled his glass anyway. "Or are you afraid of what you'll let me do once your inhibitions have been lowered by alcohol?"

Tsuzuki clenched his teeth, his temper threatening to get the better of him. "Muraki..."

"I'll take it," the Gushoshin piped up. "If I'm going to spend time the entire evening near this madman, I need all the help I can get."

Tsuzuki gave the small cup to him, but all his attention was focused on the man seated by his side. This was their first face-to-face meeting since Kyoto, and the antagonism and frustration the doctor evoked was as intense as ever. Any residual guilt Tsuzuki carried within was burnt to a cinder by the predatory gleam in Muraki's good eye. His near-death experience in Kyoto had not humbled him in the slightest.

Physically he was as strong as ever. Tsuzuki watched as he poured sake for Norata. Even in such a mundane act, there was something showy in the way he moved, as if he were performing to an unseen audience. Judging by the strength of his embrace in the middle of the street, his injuries had left him with no obvious physical impairment.

Demonic intervention was the only explanation.

"So much time has passed since we last dined together," Muraki said as he sipped his sake. "And yet...I feel as if we have never been apart."

"You haven't changed at all. You're still conceited and arrogant to the core."

Muraki inclined his head. "Thank you. As for you..." He studied Tsuzuki for a long moment, then took another sip from his cup. "I see that your dress sense has improved, your taste in companions has deteriorated, and your eyes are as bewitching as ever."

Tsuzuki blinked, confused as to how to respond to the mix of insult and flattery. Thankfully the menus arrived, saving him the effort of thinking up a reply. Whether it was with bouquets of roses, effusive flattery that bore no resemblance to fact, or lewd suggestions that made Tsuzuki's blood boil, Muraki knew exactly how to unsettle him.

To achieve his objectives tonight, Tsuzuki knew he had to keep calm and focused. The doctor would take any opportunity to undermine and embarrass him, distract him into making a fool of himself. Tsuzuki vowed not to give him that satisfaction.

For the rest of the meal, he chose not to talk or even look at Muraki. He listened politely as Muraki engaged in conversation with Norata and his wife, nodding and making sounds of agreement when they looked in his direction. Each time Muraki refilled his cup, he let the Gushoshin drain it again. Drinking freely was a luxury he only indulged in when with his friends at the Shoukanka. Tonight it was out of the question.

He even managed to remain composed--more or less--when he noticed that Muraki's bowl contained more ramen noodles than his. That took considerable willpower on his part; at first he couldn't stop glaring at Muraki's bowl to compare the difference. It was only when Muraki offered to share his dish that he realised he was acting like a child. Embarrassed, he shook his head and went back to eating his own meal.

A few minutes later, Norata's daughter came to their table. "Is everything satisfactory?" she asked.

"Is it possible for Tsuzuki-san to have an extra serving of ramen?" Muraki asked. "He was so hungry for more that I half expected him to steal mine."

"I'm so sorry we didn't bring enough. Certainly we will bring your friend more."

"No, no!" Tsuzuki held up his hand. "There's no need--"

"Of course there is a need," Norata said. "You are our guest. We don't want you to leave here with anything less than a full stomach."

"It's...it's very kind of you."

It was kind of Muraki too: a small gesture of kindness from the enemy. Tsuzuki knew he should thank Muraki as well...but his manners only went so far. Being grateful to Muraki for anything was an annoyance he could do without.

Tsuzuki leaned close to Muraki so the others couldn't overhear him. "You didn't have to do that."

"It's important that you eat well, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki replied softly. "You need to keep your energy up for the things I have planned later."

Tsuzuki flushed bright red. "What do you mean by that?? What makes you think I'll submit to any of your twisted plans?"

"Well..." Muraki considered the question as he poured more sake, "you did agree to have dinner here. And you've gone to all this trouble to chase me down, ne?" He brushed a lock of silver hair behind one ear. "I presume you're here because you couldn't bear being apart from me a moment longer."

"That's not it, dammit! Where do you get such crazy ideas from?" Tsuzuki clenched his hands into fists, fighting the urge to clamp them around Muraki's throat. He lowered his tone to a warning growl. "You know damn well what I'm here for. You have something I want, and I intend to get it from you if it's the last thing I do."

"Really?" A gleam of triumph shone in his visible grey eye. "Now you know exactly how I feel about you."

Tsuzuki turned away, grappling with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. This was so typical of Muraki. The doctor never took his warnings seriously. His fists trembled in his lap. The desire to resort to violence seemed more and more tempting...

"Tsuzuki-san?" The Gushoshin stopped in mid-sip of in the middle of pouring itself another cup of sake. "Are you all right?"

Tsuzuki excused himself and went to the bathroom, the Gushoshin floating behind him. Once they were inside, he finally exploded:

"Damn him! He takes everything I say and turns it into a crude come-on line!" He began pacing in circles around the small room, his lean black form tense and restless like a prowling panther. "He's a lecherous, sleazy bastard!"

"Keep your voice down, Tsuzuki-san." The Gushoshin watched with growing unease as he floated in the centre of the room. "We can't afford to damage property. Tatsumi-san's blood pressure will go off the scale if we damage property."

"I don't care how brilliant a doctor he is," Tsuzuki muttered to himself. "How can those people treat him with such deference? He isn't even fit to wipe their shoes!"

"You're the one who agreed to have dinner with him. I told you we should have gone back to Meifu hours ago. You know how hot headed you can be."

Tsuzuki leaned back against a tiled wall. He let the coldness of the tiles permeate through his coat and shirt. Slowly he tilted his head back against the wall. Too hot headed. He had to cool down. He placed his gloved palms flat against the wall. He closed his eyes and concentrated on absorbing every bit of coldness from the tiles.

He needed to be detached and unruffled, much like Muraki himself. His impulsive nature was a weakness. He needed to control his feelings. If he lost control again, he would be giving Muraki the advantage.

"I'm okay now." He opened his eyes. "Let's go back, Gushoshin."

"You're asking for trouble. Muraki's going to provoke you again." The bird spirit hovered in front of him, arms folded. "Tell me what's going on. What are you up to?"

Tsuzuki pushed himself away from the wall. "I want you to photograph Muraki. I need to get a close look at his false eye, the one he keeps hidden. Can you do that for me?"

The Gushoshin goggled at the idea. "Are you crazy? I'm a librarian, not a professional photographer. I'm not going anywhere near him if I can help it!" It suddenly let out a loud croaking burp.

"No more alcohol for you. You've had enough sake for one night."

"Hmmph. I haven't had that much to drink. Anyway, if you wanted a teetotaller, you should have asked Hisoka to come with you instead."

Tsuzuki rubbed his forehead. "It's unfair to him. Hisoka always acts weird when Muraki is around. As if...as if he's still haunted by the curse."

"Hah! Do you think your behaviour around him is any better?"

The door swung open. "Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki was waiting by the doorway. "Your second serving of ramen is waiting at the table for you."

"Oh." He'd forgotten all about it. "I'll be out in a moment."

Muraki came inside and closed the door behind him. "You've spent a long time in here. Are you feeling unwell?"

The room was small enough, but Muraki's presence made the room stifling and claustrophobic. His broad shoulders almost spanned the narrow doorway. Getting past him without using force--physical or magical--was going to be near impossible.

"I'm fine. Your services are not required here, sensei." Tsuzuki didn't conceal his sarcasm. "Now if you will excuse me--"

"Liar," Muraki drawled. "Your beautiful eyes give away your true feelings."

Tsuzuki put his hand to the fuda in his breast pocket. "Get out of my way, Muraki."

"Tsuzuki-san!" The Gushoshin waved his arms furiously. "No fuda! No fuda!"

"You are so delightfully perverse. You reject me with your words, but your eyes beckon me closer. Which should I believe? Isn't it said that eyes are the window to the soul?" Muraki idly brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "If I had my way, I would have taken you right there on the restaurant table while we were waiting for our dishes to arrive. An entrée, as the French call it. Would you have liked that?"

"You..." Tsuzuki began trembling from head to foot. The anger couldn't be denied any longer. "How dare you..."

"Stop! Stop!" the Gushoshin squawked as it came between them. "This isn't the library! No fighting here!"

Tsuzuki tensed. The bird spirit was right. He didn't have to hurl his fuda and leave the restaurant a pile of rubble. Why couldn't he just throttle Muraki right now? He imagined his fingers tightening around Muraki's long white throat, clamping off the blood flow, crushing the windpipe...

The image filled him with a sharp thrill of pleasure, swiftly followed by a wave of revulsion. To find enjoyment in killing would make him no better than the psychopathic doctor. He put away the fuda inside the breast pocket of his coat.

"What is this?" Muraki asked, eyeing the Gushoshin with unconcealed distaste. "The boy was troublesome enough, but even he cannot match this beast for annoying conduct. Surely you're old enough to go out on a date without a chaperone."

The Gushoshin flitted to Tsuzuki's shoulder. "Who are you calling 'annoying'? I'm not the one who molests people in public!"

"If you find me annoying, you're more than welcome to leave," Muraki replied blandly. "Neither of us will miss your irritating interjections."

"No way! I'm not leaving him alone with a pervert like you!"

"Enough." Tsuzuki's low voice caught the attention of both doctor and bird. "Come, Gushoshin." He looked Muraki straight in the eye, arms folded across his chest. "After we're finished here, I am going to examine that contract."

"You can examine it in the comfort of my apartment. It has excellent harbour views, a spa bath, and an extremely comfortable double bed."

"The location doesn't matter. We can go to a filthy side alley for all I care. Excuse me." Tsuzuki pushed past him to reach the door, the Gushoshin perched regally on his shoulder.

Muraki raised both brows in mild surprise, but made no attempt to stop or pursue him. "I didn't know you had a taste for rough--"

Tsuzuki slammed the door, blocking out the rest of Muraki's reply. If only Muraki's neck had rested between the door and the doorjamb, it would have been perfect.

Later that evening, the Norata family speculated about the sombre man dressed in black. For all his youthful beauty and ready smiles, there was a funereal gloom about him that puzzled them. Occasionally he looked into space, his violet-black eyes--which stirred much interest--seeing something beyond the realm of normal vision. Although he ate with them, even wolfing down a second helping of ramen, his movements seemed driven by necessity than any enthusiasm.

Only when Muraki spoke to him did he come alive. His eyes sparkled with fire, his voice throbbed with anger and passion. It was as if Muraki's presence provided the catalyst necessary to pull him out of his introspection.

As for the doctor, they had never seen him so besotted with another person, male or female. He was so attentive, so concerned. Why, he even went to the trouble of checking on him in the bathroom! Then there was the hasty manner in which he made early excuses for them both, as if he couldn't wait to be alone with his companion.

They came to the conclusion that it must be love.

Lighting lit up the thick storm clouds as the two men--and one bird spirit-- left Norata's establishment. A cool wind dissipated the humidity lingering from the afternoon. Ominous thunder rumbled in the distance. People scurried past, eager to find shelter from the impending downpour.

"If I'd known you were coming to visit, I would have arranged for roses to be delivered at the restaurant. I still haven't forgotten my promise of a hundred roses."

"I'm not interested in your flowers, Muraki."

"Oh." Muraki seemed almost crestfallen. "I thought you loved roses as much as I did. In any case, my apartment isn't far from here." He lowered his head so that his lips were mere inches from Tsuzuki's ear. "It's only ten minutes away by cab."

"Hah! We're not going to your apartment!" The Gushoshin glared at him from Tsuzuki's other shoulder.

"That's ten minutes too long," Tsuzuki replied as he shifted away. "I don't have all night." He flexed his gloved fingers around the boxes of sweets he held, a restless gesture betraying his impatience. He didn't want to stay any longer than was necessary. Muraki tried his patience in ways few other beings, human or otherwise, had ever done before. No one else could make him veer from frustration to bewilderment to murderous rage so quickly.

The protective guards and defences he placed around his emotions were useless. Muraki tore through them like a bullet through tissue paper.

A brilliant display of lightning flashed overhead, a single bolt zigzagging to earth, followed by a crack of thunder that echoed around them. The streetlights and neon signs wavered like flickering candles, momentarily awed by the superiority of nature, before returning to their artificial brightness.

Muraki stopped to watch beneath a shop awning, his features concealed by shadows. "An impressive display, ne?"

Tsuzuki didn't like the look of it. The rain would start any minute now. Unless Muraki allowed him to photograph the eye where they stood on the pavement, they would have to go indoors.

"So many are terrified by thunderstorms." Muraki pulled out a cigarette from the breast pocket of his suit and lit it with his lighter. The flame lit up his features for an instant, giving his anaemic complexion a shimmering gold cast. "They think of the property damage and inconvenience of interrupted electricity, not to mention the poor victims of a lightning strike. They cower in terror when the thunder rolls." He put the cigarette to his lips and took a long drag from it. Smoke curled from his nostrils as he slowly exhaled. "Are you afraid of storms, Tsuzuki-san?"

"No." Tsuzuki had the uneasy feeling that, much like Muraki's flirting, there was a double-edged meaning to this conversation. "We should get moving."

"Patience is a virtue." Muraki's voice was low and indulgent. "Let's watch a little longer."

"What's the point? Haven't you seen a thunderstorm before?"

"Yes, but I never tire of seeing lightning. I find it awe-inspiring. Such unbridled energy crackling through the atmosphere, blindly seeking the earth, heedless of the destruction it leaves in its wake..." Muraki's rich velvet voice held a note of yearning passion that caught Tsuzuki's attention. "I love its savage beauty. For as long as I can remember, I have always been attracted to such fierce displays of nature's power. To harness such energy and bend it to my will...nothing would give me greater satisfaction." His gaze slanted across to Tsuzuki for a moment. The implied comparison was impossible to ignore.

"You're a fool," Tsuzuki replied. "You claim to want eternal life, yet you seek out dangerous forces that will lead to your destruction. Demons make contracts for their own personal gain. They would never help a human unless they were offered something of value in exchange. Whether you realise it or not, whatever power it has bequeathed to you comes at a terrible price."

"Such touching concern for my welfare." Lightning lit his profile, illuminating the thinly veiled smile hovering on his lips. "Then tell me, Tsuzuki-san, what are you going to do? Take me to Meifu in protective custody? Perform an exorcism to save my soul?" The false eye lit up in taunting defiance.

The contract! At last...

Tsuzuki lunged forward with such speed that the Gushoshin tumbled off his shoulder. The boxes of cakes and sweets were tossed to the ground, forgotten in his anger. He grabbed Muraki by the throat, pinning him against the wall. With his free gloved hand he pulled out a pointed chopstick and plunged it toward Muraki's right eye.

Muraki grabbed Tsuzuki's wrist before the chopstick struck home. "Did you pilfer this from the restaurant? How incredibly rude of you."

"Damn you! You're the one who brought me here! You're the one who invaded my dreams!" He pulled Muraki closer so that they were facing each other nose-to-nose. "I made a promise the last time I dreamt of you. I've come to keep it tonight."

"Tsuzuki-san! What are you talking about??" The Gushoshin hovered behind him, appalled. "What are you doing??"

"I know." Muraki tilted his head, lips parted in blatant invitation. "I have a promise of my own to keep as well." One of his hands snaked around Tsuzuki's waist, pulling them together. He lowered his head and kissed Tsuzuki hard.

Tsuzuki growled as he tightened his hold over Muraki's throat. Any other person would have been choking for air, but Muraki didn't even wince. His teeth grazed Tsuzuki's lips, a not-quite painful sensation that he soothed with the rough lap of his tongue. The burnt bitterness of tobacco lingered with the distinctive rice-like sweetness of sake on his breath. The metal of his steel-rimmed glasses pressed into Tsuzuki's cheek.

"Tsuzuki-saaaan!" The Gushoshin covered its eyes. "This is too awful to watch."

Tsuzuki's lips tingled and ached. His mouth remained stubbornly shut, but his insides were melting with desire. He leaned against Muraki without conscious volition, instinctively pressing himself full-length against powerful lean muscles. The gloved hand that gripped Muraki's throat began to caress the nape of his neck. The other hand let go of the chopstick, and it clattered as it fell on the pavement.

Droplets of rain began to fall outside. The pitter-patter of droplets rapidly turned into a downpour.

"Mmm..." Muraki lifted his head. The lenses of his glasses were obscured by steam, yet the false eye still shone brightly. "Come back to my apartment. Stay with me until morning." He gently nibbled at Tsuzuki's ear, a stark contrast to the merciless grip over his wrist. "Meifu can do without you for one night. I can't do without you for another minute."

Tsuzuki trembled, his resistance crumbling. "Gushoshin, get the camera. Start shooting."

"Camera?" Muraki repeated. "What--"

A series of flashes went off, blinding them both.

Muraki blinked in confusion. "Am I supposed to smile?"

"Not me, Gushoshin! Shoot him! Zoom in on his false eye."

"Which eye is that? They both look false! And evil!" The bird spirit hovered about, taking more photos from various angles.

"The right one! His right, not yours!" Tsuzuki tried to move out of the way, but Muraki's grip on his wrist pulled him to his side. His free hand slid around Tsuzuki to rest possessively on his hip through the fabric of his coat.

"My dear Tsuzuki-san." Muraki nuzzled his ear again. "How romantic of you, hiring a photographer to faithfully record every intimate detail of our date this evening. I could not have thought up something so ingenious myself. But surely you must also be in the photo as well."

"Don't jump to conclusions." Tsuzuki twisted against Muraki's hold. "I'm not doing this for you."

"That's right!" the Gushoshin squawked, still snapping away. "Who in their right mind would want to date an evil psychopath like you??"

"Your pet is extremely meddlesome, Tsuzuki-san. I don't know how you put up with him."

"I'm not a pet! I'm a librarian!"

"Well, whatever you are, your only usefulness was in escorting Tsuzuki-san to me. Now that you've completed your task, you're no longer needed tonight." He held his outstretched palm in front of the Gushoshin. Light enfolded it, and its expression became blank. The camera fell from its hands.

Tsuzuki froze. This ability to render others unconscious...that was his power.

"What are you doing??" He shoved Muraki's hand away, deflecting the light. "Leave him alone!"

It was too late. The Gushoshin sank like a slowly deflating balloon. Tsuzuki scooped him up before he hit the ground.

"I was only putting him to sleep. It's probably past his bedtime."

"Gushoshin?" Tsuzuki picked up the bird, cradling it in his arms. "Gushoshin! Wake up!" He whirled around to face Muraki. "If you've done anything to hurt him--"

Muraki took off his glasses and began cleaning the lenses. The false eye was dim once again. "I assure you he is merely resting."

A soft snore came from the Gushoshin. Tsuzuki examined it for injuries, but found none. The bird spirit smelled of sake, and seemed to be asleep. Tsuzuki's shoulders slumped. He was responsible for this. He should have been protecting the Gushoshin, but he'd been so focused on fighting his attraction for Muraki.

"How do you know how to do this?" he asked tightly. "Who taught you?"

"Why don't we continue this conversation in more congenial surroundings? You can ask me all the questions you like when we reach my apartment. You can study my eye...and any other part of me that takes your interest."

"That won't be necessary." Tsuzuki held up the camera, still hanging around the Gushoshin's neck. "I already have photographs."

"Photos taken from a distance, and probably of dubious quality. Besides, what photograph can compare to the real thing?" Muraki lifted his silver bangs, revealing the false eye with its abnormally wide diameter. "I always thought you were a man of your word, Tsuzuki-san. You're not one to break your promises so easily, ne?"

Tsuzuki almost laughed. He'd promised the Gushoshin a pleasant afternoon tea in Nagasaki: it was now unconscious, struck down by an excess of sake and Muraki's appropriated demon magic. He'd promised to buy Watari sweets: the boxes were now strewn at his feet on the pavement. And those were only the promises he'd broken today. What about the time he'd vowed to keep Hijiri and Kazusa safe from Saagatanasu? Hisoka had warned him about the danger of making promises he couldn't keep...and he'd been proven right.

And there were many other broken promises: to colleagues and friends, the mortals he was responsible for...too numerous to count.

Muraki put on his glasses. "So my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. You're actually smiling in my presence." He tilted his head, studying Tsuzuki thoughtfully. "Have I said something amusing?"

"If only you knew." Tsuzuki caught sight of the chopstick next to Muraki's half-smoked cigarette. Gouging out Muraki's false eye...it seemed ridiculous in retrospect. Muraki would never relinquish something he prized unless it suited his purpose. "Your false eye is perfectly safe. I couldn't keep a promise if my life depended on it."

"Oh?" Only a single syllable, but Muraki managed to invest it with burning curiosity. "I was under the impression that you were a man of integrity."

"Your impression was wrong. I break promises all the time." Tsuzuki bent down to pick up the boxes. Maybe some of the sweets could be salvaged later. "I have a disastrous track record to maintain."

Muraki bent down to assist him. "Maybe so. But in my line of work, I have learned to assess a person's character within minutes of meeting them. I believe that if you did break a promise, it was never with deliberate intent." He picked up a couple of sweet boxes and tucked them under his arm. "It's because you haven't been taught how to employ the full scope of your power."

Tsuzuki stared at him, stunned. Where the hell did Muraki get such ideas?

A cab pulled up in front of them.

"Excellent timing," Muraki said. "Do you need any help in carrying your things, Tsuzuki-san?"

"How do you know so much about us Shinigami?" And me? He wanted to grab Muraki's arm, but his arms were too occupied with sweet boxes and snoring Gushoshin.

"All in good time." Muraki opened the door with his free hand, allowing the rain to drench his arm. "Let us talk in the privacy of my apartment."

Tsuzuki didn't want to go. His earlier capitulation destroyed the delusion he could resist Muraki's seductive technique. And if Muraki were even a fraction as skilled as he was in the dreams, Tsuzuki would be warm putty in his hands, willingly stretching and bending to accommodate the doctor's every desire. But he didn't have much of a choice. Muraki was scattering bait that was less bloodstained but no less suspicious: a mysterious contract and information no living person was supposed to know. How could Tsuzuki ignore it?

"It would be such a shame if you left early," Muraki said, his voice husky. "There's so much I want to show you...so much we could share together."

Tsuzuki clamped down on the frisson of excitement as he walked past him and entered the cab. "I want information. That's all."

Muraki bowed his head, not quite hiding his wolfish smile. "Of course. I'll do my best to accommodate you."