30/9/04 - minor corrections made (thanks to Mashou no Tenshi!)
Big thanks to Gengkotsuya and Demonprist :)
And thanks to those who've commented and made it this far. I know it's long and confusing...and I do apologise for that. I'm amazed that it's blown out like this. It's Muraki's fault.
xxxxx
Morning tea at the Shoukanka was not for the faint-hearted. There was never enough food to go around, and one needed luck and determination to snare the last cookie or sweet or slice of cake. Childish temper tantrums, whining and tears were common tactics used by the more greedy Shinigami. Even all-out brawls were not unheard of, but these seldom took place in Tatsumi's presence. With his iron-grip over the accounts, Tatsumi silenced squabbles with the dreaded threat of a salary cut.
But today the conference room was abuzz with goodwill and friendly camaraderie, for there were more than enough confections to spare. Six beautiful boxes, emblazoned with colourful flowers and tied with ribbon, rested on the main table. Gushoshin Elder floated about, setting the crockery and cutlery on the table. His younger brother measured out fragrant leaves to prepare the tea. Tatsumi and Hisoka worked together to prepare the sweets for serving, for they were regarded as the only two Shinigami with the self-restraint required to resist gobbling the delicacies for themselves. Hisoka put together the monaka by spreading bean paste between sticky rice wafers shaped like flowers. Tatsumi unwrapped yokan jellies and suiko and placed them on dainty white serving plates. Then the kasutera needed to be sliced, and the manju buns unwrapped from their protective paper wrapping.
Tsuzuki watched them as he sat on one of the chairs and sipped a mug of bitter black coffee. They worked side by side in harmony, their movements controlled and measured as their personalities. Apart from an occasional query by Hisoka and a murmur of approval from Tatsumi, they didn't require the wasted energy of speech. Did he and Hisoka ever work together in such harmony during their years together?
Tsuzuki tried to scratch an itchy spot between his shoulder blades as he pondered the question. If there was such a time, he couldn't remember it. He stifled a yawn. Surely no one would notice if he closed his eyes for a little while. He pulled out his dark sunglasses and put them on.
Watari was too excited to sit still. He paced around the table, long hair flying about him as he clutched his hands together. "I...I don't know what to say. I've never seen so many sweets before in my life!" Unable to resist, he lightly touched the powdery surface of a bright pink manju bun. "Waaah! It's still warm from the oven!"
"Watari-san!" Gushoshin Elder slapped his hand away. "We haven't started serving yet!"
Watari licked his fingers. "Delicious. Hurry up and serve them now!"
"Stop being so greedy. Wait your turn like everyone else."
"Hey! Show some gratitude to the person responsible for this feast!"
"It was Tsuzuki who bought them, not you!"
"But I gave him the money. Isn't that right, Tsuzuki?"
Tsuzuki lounged in his chair, arms and legs akimbo, his head lolling against the backrest. A soft snore left his parted lips.
"Tsuzuki? Hey, Tsuzuki!"
Tsuzuki didn't stir.
Watari shook his shoulder. "Tsuzuki! Wake up."
Tsuzuki jumped to his feet so fast he knocked his chair over. "Where is it?" he snapped. "Where's it coming from?" He fumbled for the breast pocket of his non-existent trenchcoat until he remembered - it was hanging over the back of the chair in his office, exactly where he left it every morning he came to work.
"It's okay, Tsuzuki," Watari reassured him. "The cakes are all here. No one's eaten your share yet."
Tsuzuki lifted his glasses and looked around to get his bearings. Conference room. Morning tea. No fireballs or creepy white kitten. He needed to get a grip. "Sorry. You gave me a shock." He folded the glasses away, picked up his chair and sat back down. "I haven't been getting much sleep lately."
"It can't be work that's tiring you," Terazuma challenged from across the table. "Kyushu is always quiet. If you want to know what real work is, you should see the tricky cases we have in Chugoku--"
"Hajime-chan!" Wakaba scolded as she sat down beside him, her curly hair bouncing with her movements. "Must you talk about work all the time? Why don't you make yourself useful and get me a cup of tea, please?"
"But that's the Gushoshin's job--"
"But you know how to make it exactly as I like it." A dimple appeared on each of her rosy cheeks as she smiled at him. "Please, Hajime-chan?"
Terazuma turned red at the feminine attention. He stumbled to his feet in his haste to get away. "Ahhh...okay, Kannuki. Only for you."
"Amazing," Watari murmured, momentarily distracted from the thought of food. "She has him well and truly curled around her finger."
Tsuzuki nodded. "No doubt he fears the consequences of disobedience. For such a young girl, Wakaba-chan is well versed in the art of feminine persuasion."
"Poor Hajime-chan. He gets so obsessed with work that he forgets how to unwind and have a normal conversation." She smiled at Tsuzuki. "So, where did you purchase these sweets? If I'd known you were organising this, I could have taken you to the confection shops in Hiroshima. Some of them are the best in Japan!"
"That's kind of you, Wakaba-chan, but this was a spur-of-the-moment idea. I wanted to surprise everyone."
"It's more than a surprise. It's a dream come true!" Watari hugged Tsuzuki from behind, almost throttling him in his enthusiasm. "I never imagined you'd buy so much. You're the best friend ever, Tsuzuki! What can I do to return the favour?"
With his nostrils choked by blond hair, Tsuzuki couldn't breathe. "Fix my...apartment...door."
Watari laughed loudly and squeezed harder. "Later, later. I only broke it because I was so concerned when you didn't turn up for work." He lowered his voice to a hushed whisper. "Gushoshin Elder threatened to ban me from the library if I didn't"
"Stop fighting, you two!" Gushoshin Elder placed a plate of yokan on the table. "If you're going to behave like children, play outside and leave the food for the rest of us!"
"Sorry, Gushoshin!" Watari released Tsuzuki and sat down, his expression contrite. "I was so carried away with happiness."
Tsuzuki massaged his throat, eyes watering. With friends like Watari, he didn't need an enemy like Muraki.
No, that wasn't true. No one touched him the way Muraki did. No one spoke his name the way Muraki did. Even now, he could imagine himself wrapped in Muraki's arms, writhing and gasping as his body was pushed so close to climax he could almost taste it...
Tsuzuki shifted in his seat, disturbed with his almost-instant physical response.
He tried to think back to the earlier events that night, but they swam before him like blurry images, a chaotic jumble of memories and half-forgotten fragments of conversation. A demonic attack with flames and flying fireballs. A fuda attack of flowing water.
Tsuzuki frowned. Odd. His attack fuda harnessed the elements of Earth and Fire to create animals that did his bidding and energy bolts to attack an enemy. But what he'd managed in Muraki's apartment - a true Water attack - was beyond his experience. He'd never achieved anything like that before.
You must believe to succeed, Tsuzuki-san. I know you can do it.
But how could Muraki know, when Tsuzuki didn't? Two elements were regarded as the maximum number a fuda master could call on. Early on in his training, Tsuzuki had chosen Fire and Earth. They shared a harmonious relationship, enabling him to call them forth when required for a fuda attack.
Water wasn't supposed to be available to him. Element theory dictated that Water controlled Fire, and was in turn controlled by Earth. Water's antagonistic relationship to the other two precluded him from calling on it. So how did he successfully harness Water to do his bidding?
"Here you are, Watari-san." Gushoshin Younger poured out a cup of tea, using a small strainer to catch the leaves. "Now, Tsuzuki-san, what would you like? Green, chrysanthemum or earl grey?"
"Green tea, thank you." He watched as the bird spirit carefully placed the strainer over his cup and lifted the pot. "Are you feeling better today?"
"Much better. But I still don't remember what happened the day before. Did I really drink so much? I usually have a strong stomach for sake."
"We drank quite a lot at dinner. Even my memory is a bit fuzzy." Tsuzuki laughed and shrugged it off. "But I know what we ate then is nowhere near as mouth-watering as what we're having this morning!"
Tatsumi appeared at his side, a warm smile on his face as he played the part of the perfect host. "Kasutera for you, Watari-san. And what would you like, Tsuzuki-san?"
Tsuzuki smiled cheerfully up at him. "A white manju, please! But where's the Chief? He wouldn't want to miss this, would he?"
"He's still in a meeting with DaiOh-sama, but it should be finishing shortly. I'm sure he will join us soon. Kasutera is his favourite, after all."
Hisoka carried a three-tiered serving plate crammed with cakes and jellies to the table, followed by two more plates piled with a small mountain of suiko and yokan. "I don't know how we're going to eat all this. There are still three other boxes we haven't opened yet."
"Bon! How can you say such a thing?" Watari demanded. "Take it back at once!"
"Of course we can eat it! We can meet this challenge!" Terazuma agreed loudly as he returned to the table. He set down Wakaba's cup of tea with a loud clatter, spilling a little onto the saucer. "You of all people should be eating the most!" he told Hisoka. "To improve one's skill with the bow, one must cultivate a strong body as well as a strong spirit. How can you strengthen your body if you don't eat?"
"And there's still lunch and afternoon tea as well," Wakaba piped up.
Hisoka looked at them all as if they were mad. "But too many sweets are bad--"
"Don't mind them," Tsuzuki whispered as he pulled out a chair and winked at him. "Shinigami are extremely protective when it comes to food. To interfere with a Shinigami's food is considered a serious offence."
"Oh. I thought it was only you who behaved like that."
Tsuzuki grinned at him. "Well, now you know. They're just as bad."
"Yes, afternoon tea!" Watari cried out. "That reminds me" He grabbed Tatsumi's sleeve as he returned to the table with Tsuzuki's manju bun. "Tatsumi, please can we have afternoon tea under the sakura?"
"No, Watari-san, I'm afraid not."
"Why not? It's such a beautiful day outside. I bet if the Chief were here he'd agree with me."
"No, I wouldn't, Watari." Chief Konoe entered the conference room, his features grim. "The problem with having afternoon tea outside is that no one ever remembers to come back inside to finish off their work. Where is the kasutera?"
"Here you are." Tatsumi deftly placed a small sponge cake before him. "How was the meeting?"
"The usual," Konoe muttered darkly. Even the plates piled high with sweets failed to lift his spirits, a bad sign indeed. He glanced Tsuzuki's way. "Hmmph. So you brought morning tea after all?"
"Yes, and Watari was generous enough to foot the bill!"
"High time you remembered to do one of the things I ask of you. But it doesn't excuse all the other times you forgot!"
"I promise to do better next time, Chief!"
With everyone working in the Shoukanka present, they all sat down to enjoy morning tea. Even the reluctant Hisoka nibbled on a chrysanthemum-shaped monaka.
Tsuzuki picked up his manju with his fingertips, unashamedly defying etiquette. It was the best way to appreciate the fine powdery surface. The sweet was shaped in a perfect white sphere, as pale as Muraki's skin. He bent forward and sniffed it. His mouth watered as the aroma of adzuki beans filled his nostrils.
He opened his mouth and allowed his lips to brush the surface. It was warm from the oven, with a slight saltiness that reminded Tsuzuki of human flesh. Closing his eyes, he bared his teeth and slowly bit into it. The surface yielded easily, the texture soft and stretchy yet resilient.
With his tongue, he licked the powdered surface, savouring the hint of salt again. He imagined it was Muraki's throat against his mouth, warm and alive and deliciously edible. His jaw trembled as he resisted the urge to rip it open. Muraki was human, his skin fragile. His flesh needed to be treated with care, using gentle nips instead of ravenous bites.
But it was so easy to forget Muraki's physical limitations when they were together in bed. Muraki bit and scratched with a desperate possessiveness that stirred something within Tsuzuki, demanding he return the favour in kind. For one fleeting instance last night, Tsuzuki even wanted to bare his teeth, and devour Muraki's long pale throat. To consume the man completely, bite by bite: his throat, his shoulders...every inch of his beautiful white body...
Tsuzuki shivered, excited and disgusted in equal measure.
He bit cleanly through the chewy shell, his teeth sinking into the bean paste filling. The sweetness filled his mouth, an explosion of flavour that would have made him swoon with delight once. But now...
He chewed with mechanical precision and swallowed it down. In his hands, the white outer layer was torn open. The sweet dark red paste oozed out like coagulated blood.
It wasn't Muraki, but it would have to do.
xxxxx
Beside him, Hisoka froze for a moment. He blinked, a haunted expression in his eyes, before returning to eat his monaka.
From his seat at the far end of the table, Tatsumi ate nothing. He merely sipped his tea and watched them both.
xxxxx
Precisely twenty minutes later, as timed by the Shoukanka's secretary, morning tea was over.
The Gushoshin were impatient to return to the library and work further on their demon database, so they were excused from tidying up. But the other Shinigami couldn't escape. Terazuma and Wakaba washed the plates, while Watari dried and packed away the utensils. Tsuzuki was given the task of packing away the remaining cakes and cleaning the conference table.
Hisoka offered to help, but Tatsumi let him off.
"Your services are not required, Kurosaki-kun. You've already helped a great deal this morning. Have you had the opportunity to find that book I told you about?"
"No, not yet."
"Visit the library now and borrow it." Although spoken as an order, Tatsumi's voice was indulgent and warm. "It is an old text but it provides an excellent introduction to the basic technique of shadow summoning. When the Gushoshin are engrossed in research, they are slow to perform basic tasks such as book loans and enquiries. But if you catch them before they get started, they will be more willing to assist you."
"Thank you, Tatsumi-san." Hisoka bowed. "I'll do it right now."
Tsuzuki watched covertly as he stacked the used plates and cutlery. They kept a safe distance from each other, taking care not to invade the other's personal space. They didn't laugh or tease; they spoke in quiet, measured tones meant for each other alone. They even avoided eye contact: Hisoka preferred to look at the floor, only lifting his gaze when he thanked Tatsumi for his help.
Tatsumi wasn't troubled by this. On the contrary, it gave him more opportunity to admire Hisoka's fluffy chestnut brown hair.
Although their behaviour was proper for a junior worker and his superior, it struck Tsuzuki as painfully formal, even for them. And yet, it was familiar as well. The way Tatsumi's gaze followed Hisoka to the door...
Tsuzuki lowered his own eyes. Regret is a useless emotion. "So how did the lesson go last night?" he asked. "Does he show promise?"
"It's too early to say. But he does have remarkable mental focus for his age." Tatsumi began pulling back the chairs from the table. Because of the funding cuts, everyone had to pitch in to help clean the offices. "No doubt this is a result of his martial arts training. It will serve him well in learning kagetsu."
"That's great! I'm sure he'll do well." Tsuzuki paused, his hands running over the edge of a cake box. "You won't keep him up too late, will you? He'll never admit it, but he does tire easily."
"I'll keep that in mind, Tsuzuki-san. Speaking of sleep..." Tatsumi looked at him with piercing blue eyes. "How has yours been lately?"
"I could always do with more, but I'm fine." He began placing the leftover yokan together on one plate.
"Are you sure? You dozed off in your chair."
Tsuzuki laughed in embarrassment. "You know what I'm like. I normally don't get here till nine or ten, but I set my alarm clock for the crack of dawn so I could buy these cakes before work. I guess my body is still adjusting to the time difference."
Tatsumi's fingers tightened over the chair he held. "What about your nightmares?"
"They're gone now," Tsuzuki said quietly. Which was true.
"I see." Tatsumi remained still for a moment, as if he wanted to say something more. Then, thinking better of it, he went to the small cupboard in one corner of the room. With a brush and dustpan, he bent down to sweep the food crumbs from the floor.
Slowly Tsuzuki placed the remaining manju in the cake box, except for one white bun. This he wrapped in a napkin and hid in his trouser pocket. "Tatsumi, about Hisoka..."
"What?" Tatsumi's voice was muffled as he worked under the table.
Tsuzuki hesitated, unsure of how to begin. "He may act aloof and cold, but he's always wanted someone to guide and support him...but not just anyone. He needs someone he respects."
Tatsumi stood up slowly, one eyebrow raised. "Do you mean a father figure?"
"Well, a mentor rather than a father."
Tatsumi emptied the dustpan in the trash, then returned it and the brush to the cupboard with his customary neatness. "Well, there is always the Chief--"
"The Chief is old enough to be his grandfather. He needs someone closer to his age."
Tatsumi blinked and lifted his glasses up his nose, looking almost owlish as he considered this problem. "But there is no one here around Hisoka's age. Unless you mean Wakaba, but she's fe--"
"Tatsumi!" Tsuzuki didn't know whether to laugh or cry at Tatsumi's denseness. "I mean you!"
"Me?" Tatsumi stepped back, horrified. "But I know nothing about children--"
"He isn't a child. I know he looks like one, but in chronological years he's an adult now. Working as a Shinigami makes one grow up very quickly. But deep inside...he's not as confident as he makes himself out to be. He still needs the help of someone older to guide him." Tsuzuki smiled warmly at Tatsumi. "You know it. You wouldn't have offered to teach him kagetsu otherwise, ne?"
Tatsumi looked uncomfortable. "Kurosaki-kun told me his concerns about invading privacy because of his empathic powers. All I did was offer him a solution--"
Tsuzuki wasn't fooled for a moment. "Really?"
Tatsumi turned away, his back ramrod straight. "I...I'm not seeking to replace you as his partner. I am perfectly satisfied with my current position as secretary."
"I know." Tsuzuki touched his forearm to reassure him. "I know what you're doing, and I'm grateful to you for it."
"You...you are?" There was a touching note of tentativeness in his voice.
Tsuzuki nodded. "In some ways...I think the two of you would have made a better team. The expense account would never be overdrawn. You would get reports done well before deadline. And I know you would both have fewer disagreements." For a moment, Tsuzuki's eyes were bleak, then it cleared as he smiled again. "He's like you in so many ways. You're both good at guarding your hearts, and presenting a stoic face to the world. The only problem is - like everything else you set your mind to - you became too good at it."
Tatsumi didn't smile back as he touched Tsuzuki's cheek. "I failed you twice over, didn't I? I couldn't help ease your pain, and then when it became too much--"
"Oh, Tatsumi." Tsuzuki's voice was soft with exasperated affection. "You can't help yourself, can you? Stop taking responsibility for everything." He hugged Tatsumi tightly. "You deserve someone strong in spirit, not a burden on your conscience."
"You were never that," Tatsumi murmured. He lifted his arms awkwardly to embrace Tsuzuki's waist. "Never that."
Tsuzuki smiled into Tatsumi's shoulder. Even after all they had been through, Tatsumi remained good to him - the mark of a true friend. "While you're there, could you scratch my back for me?" he teased. "There's a spot I can't quite reach, and it's driving me mad."
"I suppose I could," Tatsumi replied with a smile in his voice. "Just this once."
Unnoticed by either man, Watari and Chief Konoe gaped in astonishment from the half-open door. Having come back to grab a few more cakes for later, this was the last thing they expected to find. After staring for a good five seconds, they quietly shut the door and scurried down the corridor.
"Such unprofessional conduct," Konoe muttered. "I knew they were close once, but I thought they were finished ages ago."
"It's one of those on-again, off-again relationships. The minute Tsuzuki overdraws his expense account, Tatsumi will go crazy and break it off. Then he'll feel guilty, so they get back together and repeat the cycle over again." Watari shrugged. "Masochists."
xxxxx
Later that morning, Tsuzuki paid a visit to Watari's laboratory. He found his friend hunched over the computer terminal, 003 perched on his head.
"Hey, Watari! Have you had a chance to work on the anagram?"
"What?" Watari didn't lift his eyes from the screen.
"The anagram, remember?" Tsuzuki looked at the lab bench piled with papers and books. It looked even more disordered than he remembered from his last visit, with a few pieces of paper threatening to fall to the floor. The tallest stack of books tilted to one side in a miniature version of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Just one little push would surely send it tumbling. "Did you even manage to find it?"
"Empty desk, empty mind," Watari replied airily. "At least I spend time in my office, unlike others who act the playboy and break the hearts of his workmates with indiscriminate flirting!"
"Huh? What the... what are you talking about?"
"Don't pretend with me! First the Gushoshin, now the secretary--"
"It's not like that! You know we're just friends." Tsuzuki took refuge in counterattack. "Remember, you're the one who bashes down people's doors without asking! You're the one who blatantly invades the privacy of others!"
Watari sniffed. "Next time find a less conspicuous place than the conference room. I wasn't even trying that time." He pulled a creased piece of paper out of his lab coat pocket. "I've deciphered these parts." He circled the top and bottom parts. "These seem to correspond to numbers: 3 on the top, and 22 on the bottom. They're written as Roman numerals. It's still used occasionally in modern times too, but it's been overtaken by Hindu-Arabic as the most popular numeric system."
"Numbers?" Tsuzuki repeated. "Could it be a time? A date?"
"Maybe, but the year is missing," Watari pointed out.
Tsuzuki looked at it, thinking hard. Nagasaki Full Moon. March 22nd was several months ago. Did something significant happen on that date? But what? And in which year? Perhaps a time was more likely. "What about this middle part here?"
Watari scratched his head. "I still have to work that out. Assuming that it's written in the same context as the numbers, I'm guessing it's an ancient language like Latin...but who knows? The characters are so tightly compressed. Are you sure that's how you remember it?"
"I'm sure." Tsuzuki touched his chest, remembering how the bright red anagram had adorned his body.
"Well, I'll keep working on it." He cast Tsuzuki a curious look. "Can you tell me how the anagram appeared to you? You said it was in a dream, right?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"If I knew the circumstances in which it appeared, it might give me a clue to deciphering it."
Tsuzuki shifted uneasily. "It was written in blood on a naked body."
"So it's a curse or warning of some sort. Okay, leave it with me, and I'll keep searching."
"Thank you." For all his annoying habits, Watari was another good friend. Tsuzuki felt almost ashamed to ask him for more. "Umm...did you manage to ask the Gushoshin about demons who have taken on feline form?"
"Oh, yes. I forgot to mention it. They found a few using the database they have so far. I printed them out for you." He pulled open a drawer and took out a twenty-page document. "There you go!"
Tsuzuki goggled at the size of it. The names were arranged in three columns and written in small print. "Have all these demons appeared as white cats?"
"Felines are the most popular animal form for demons to use," Watari told him. "I asked the Gushoshin about restricting the search according to colour, but they told me such information was sketchy because of observer bias and variable viewing conditions. They recommended searching for all cats."
"Oh." So many names, so little time. It would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. But at least it was better than nothing. "Thanks so much for your help, Watari."
"No problem. Are you going to tell me more about this case you're working on? After all the help I've given you, surely you can let me in on it?" Watari grabbed Tsuzuki's arm and looked up at him with wide brown puppy-dog eyes. "Please? The curiosity is eating at me!"
"Later, later." Tsuzuki laughed as he extricated himself. "When I find out more, you'll be the first to know. I better get back to my office and help Hisoka with the paperwork. See you!"
Watari waved him off with the same good cheer. "See you!"
The moment Tsuzuki was out the door, Watari sat back in his chair, arms folded. Tsuzuki said he wasn't on a case, but Watari knew that something was up. He appeared distracted, distant - at times he seemed to be in another world. What was he thinking about? Was he still worrying about the events in Kyoto?
Watari knew Tsuzuki wasn't the type of person to open up easily. Despite his easygoing and friendly manner, he preferred to keep his issues close to his chest instead of troubling others. Even as a close friend, Watari realised that there were some things Tsuzuki would never ever reveal to any of them. But it hurt a little, knowing that Tsuzuki kept so much from him.
003 flew to the top of the computer screen to study Watari's face. It puffed out its chest at him, as if trying to make itself bigger than it really was.
"I do understand, 003," he said to the owl. "I don't hold it against him. I'm the same way too, huh?"
003 fluttered to Watari's shoulder and nuzzled his cheek.
Watari scratched the owl's neck. "Never mind. He asked me to solve this anagram, right? As a friend, I will do my best to help him."
xxxxx
Hisoka was still at the library when Tsuzuki returned to their office. Sunlight streamed through the open window, and a light breeze stirred the curtains. Hisoka's in-tray was empty, and his desk was neat and ordered. No new paperwork to do. Good. It was going to be a quiet day.
Tsuzuki sat down at his own desk, and looked at the list of demons again. Most of the names weren't familiar to him - he wasn't even sure how to pronounce half of them. There were symbols next to each one denoting their status in the demon hierarchy, but Tsuzuki knew such information was subject to change without notice. Ashitarote did not tolerate insubordination, and those who challenged his authority were swiftly demoted.
A despot must always be on the lookout for potential rivals in his midst if he is to maintain his grip on power.
Tsuzuki rubbed his forehead. No doubt it would be true for demons, beings notorious for their vanity and petty squabbling. But why say such things about EnmaDaiOh?
DaiOh-sama was no despot. On the contrary, despite Tsuzuki's horrific personal history in the land of the living, DaiOh-sama had employed him as a Shinigami, given him his supernatural powers and enabled him to find his shikigami.
Thanks to DaiOh-sama, he felt useful for the first time in his existence.
Tsuzuki watched the sakura trees outside as they swayed, scattering their pale pink blossoms to the ground. Such a beautiful sight only occurred once a year in the land of the living, but in Meifu this vision was made eternal. This wondrous place was his home, thanks to DaiOh-sama.
The debt of gratitude Tsuzuki owed him could never be repaid in full. Serving as a Shinigami was merely a token recompense for all DaiOh-sama had done for him.
Without DaiOh-sama, I am nothing.
Tsuzuki stroked his watchband, remembering the legacy of his past life, the one he had been so desperate to escape. If Muraki thought a few disparaging comments would shake his loyalty and confidence in Enma, then he truly was mad.
But maybe he could gain insight into Muraki's objectives by listening to his ramblings. It would be an easy enough task - like all egomaniacs, Muraki loved the sound of his own voice.
And it wouldn't be that arduous either. There were moments last night when he didn't mind Muraki's voice at all. The throaty way he murmured 'Tsuzuki-san'...
The memory sent a shiver along Tsuzuki's spine.
Impatiently he rose to his feet and picked up his trenchcoat. One of the pockets rustled with fuda, and the other with yen notes. He flicked through the notes: 20,000 yen left.
What to do with so much money? Give it back? Keep it for himself?
Muraki didn't seem to care either way.
Wait a moment. Why should he return it? Muraki deserved to pay for the food he stole, and Tsuzuki knew he could buy many things with 20,000 yen. He could gorge himself on crab and lobster and abalone and fugu and many other delicacies. He could buy more sweets for his own private consumption. He could go on a feeding frenzy and eat all the foods he'd denied himself during his life...
But he wasn't hungry for food. The manju he'd pilfered earlier remained untouched in his trouser pocket.
Tsuzuki took it out. The chewy casing was a little dented, but there were no cracks marking its white surface. As long as he handled it with care, it would remain intact.
He caressed it and licked his fingers. Delicious. Carefully he placed it in his breast pocket before he gave into temptation and gobbled it there and then. He didn't believe in delaying physical gratification, but there was another hunger slithering inside, demanding priority.
It was already lunchtime. Tsuzuki routinely went out to eat. With nothing happening in the Shoukanka and Kyushu quiet, he wouldn't be required for the rest of the afternoon. Watari was busy in the lab as always. Tatsumi was in his office, probably tearing his hair out over the accounts. Hisoka was in the library reading in preparation for his next kagetsu lesson with Tatsumi.
Insidious images filled his mind: Tatsumi embracing Hisoka with the shadows, cocooning him from fear and shame, holding him close as he whispered gentle words of reassurance to dull the pain...
The pang of jealousy surged within Tsuzuki, surprising him with its intensity. Where did it come from? Why now? His feelings for either of them had never been so proprietorial before. They were his friends and family, and that wasn't about to change. This fierce sense of loss was absurd.
And oddly enough, the strange itch between his shoulder blades had returned to annoy him again.
Tsuzuki shook his head to clear it. Crazy. It was all the more reason for him to leave early. He knew how to satiate his hunger, and with whom.
He quickly put on his trenchcoat. "It's no use," he said to Hisoka's empty chair. "It's safer this way, for you and me." He slid the velvet gloves on his hands and buckled the cuffs.
For what I am about to do, please forgive...
He disappeared into nothingness, leaving behind a deserted sunlit office.
xxxxx
It was sunny in Nagasaki as well. In Muraki's penthouse apartment, the vertical blinds in the living room were pulled back, flooding the room with blinding light. Without trees or nearby buildings to block the view of the city, there was no way to avoid the sun on a clear summer day.
Muraki didn't mind in the slightest. He sat on his lounge chair, drenched in sunlight, his elbows resting on his knees. The cuffs of his white shirt were unbuttoned and folded up to the elbow, exposing his pale skin. The top two buttons of his shirt were also undone, revealing his collarbone and the long column of his throat. His gaze was downcast, silver hair obscuring his eyes from view as he concentrated on the piles of playing cards laid out on the coffee table - a game of Solitaire.
Cloaked by invisibility, Tsuzuki leaned against the window, his arms folded. This was the first time he'd taken the time to observe Muraki in daylight. The harsh brightness cast shadows that emphasised the hollows of his cheeks and the lines bracketing his mouth. The tendons and muscles of his forearms were clearly delineated beneath his pale, almost translucent skin.
Tsuzuki couldn't believe it. Was Muraki usually this pale and skeletal-looking? As a Shinigami, he'd seen corpses who looked in better shape.
Muraki turned the cards over, his movements slow and methodical. Apart from a frown at a particular card that displeased him, he showed no other overt emotion.
Weird. Why wasn't he summoning demons or killing people or visiting former patients...or communing with the demon with whom he'd made his alliance - this demon who wanted 'to experience what it is like to be human'...or so Muraki had said.
Muraki shifted a few cards from one pile to another, turned over others, and frowned again.
Tsuzuki mused on this. Demons thrived on the loss and corruption of humanity. Powerful negative emotions were their favourite source of nourishment. Dead bodies were an added bonus, but not necessary for feeding - immaterial beings did not need matter for survival. Smaller demons were opportunistic feeders, absorbing the emotions generated in natural catastrophes and disasters. Larger, more powerful demons preferred to engineer such scenarios for their own amusement and pleasure.
So a demon wanting to experience the human condition...the idea beggared belief. A demon with empathy? Impossible. Demons rejoiced in human grief and depravity.
Tsuzuki froze. Was that what Muraki's kitten was doing? The way it watched everything he and Muraki did together...was this how it fed? With each assignation between them, it could freely indulge in a maelstrom of violent emotions: anger, greed, violence, lust.
Tsuzuki looked around the room. Where was it? If his hypothesis were true, it should be
"Meow!" The kitten stood at his feet, looking up at him as if awaiting his command.
Tsuzuki jerked in surprise. He'd concentrated so much on Muraki he hadn't noticed its approach. But as established from their first meeting, the feline's vision was immune to the invisibility spell. The mark of a creature with great power.
Muraki's gaze flicked to the kitten. "Come sit with me. It's bad manners to stare." He began gathering up the cards. "Let's play a more challenging game."
Tsuzuki knew Muraki's censure applied to his behaviour too - but he didn't move from the window or break the spell. He wanted to observe Muraki a little longer.
The feline waited for Tsuzuki, its ears pricked expectantly. When Tsuzuki didn't appear, it lifted its head and prowled back to the lounge.
Muraki split the deck of cards and riffled them together. "During my training, I discovered that my hands possessed a natural tremor." He held his outstretched hand in front of him to demonstrate. "Our muscles twitch a little, even when we are still. My tremor became worse when I was nervous or exhausted, something I experienced on a regular basis while on-call."
Tsuzuki frowned. From where he was standing a few feet away, he couldn't see a tremor. By Muraki's side, the kitten looked as well.
"I despised myself for it." Muraki put his hand down, and picked up two cards. "How could I be a surgeon if my hands were so feeble? What if I inadvertently sliced a nerve or blood vessel because of my weakness? I did everything I could to cure myself. I tried drugs, meditation, acupuncture - even prayer - without success. I realised then I had to adapt myself to live with it." He balanced the cards on the table so they stood on their side, then used a third card to support the other two. His long fingers supported the three cards, adjusting them as they threatened to fall and dislodge each other.
When he let go, the cards stood end to end to form the outline of an equilateral triangle.
"I tested myself by constructing houses of cards. Like this."
He took three more cards from the pack. Slowly he balanced them on top of the first three to form another triangle. Then he did the same with another three cards, and three more. A four-tiered tower of cards stood proudly on the table.
Tsuzuki moved closer, fascinated. It took skill to balance them without the use of magic. Muraki's fingers were outstretched, seeking to balance the cards each time and control any stray movements. His eyes were narrowed as he watched the cards, intent on his task. His fingers trembled ever so slightly.
"There." Muraki withdrew his hands. A tower with five tiers. "It gets more difficult from here." He took three more cards from the pack and began to balance them as well. "My tremor also becomes worse as the difficulty increases. It is as if my body betrays my will...as if it wants me to fail. Such is...the inherent weakness...of the human condition."
The span of his fingers supported the upper two levels, but the lower levels were beyond his reach. One infinitesimally small imbalance in the weight distribution would send everything tumbling.
The kitten's eyes never left Muraki's hands. Tsuzuki knelt in front of the coffee table to watch as well.
One of the cards on the second level tilted. Muraki quickly lowered his hand to support and adjust it, but it left the top layer exposed. One of the top cards began to fall.
Tsuzuki reacted without thinking. He halted the stray card with his gloved fingertips.
The kitten lashed its tail and meowed in approval.
Muraki's lips curved into a smile. "Thank you."
Tsuzuki withdrew his hand. Damn.
"I don't believe in miracles. If you're going to meddle in my affairs, then at least grant me the pleasure of your company as compensation."
There didn't seem to be any point in hiding. With a whispered word, Tsuzuki broke the cloaking spell.
Muraki withdrew his hands. The six-tiered tower of cards stood firm. "That's better." He studied Tsuzuki over the top of the cards. "Good afternoon, Tsuzuki-san. You granted my request by coming early today. Thank you."
"It was quiet at the Shoukanka." Tsuzuki rose to his feet awkwardly and straightened his coat.
"And you wear my gloves." Muraki smiled fondly at him. "I am honoured to know my gift pleases you."
Tsuzuki flushed. "I wear these for..." For your safety? He could hardly say it aloud. "...for convenience."
"A sensible practice. Your profession and mine are alike in this respect - our hands are our tools. We must take good care of them." He held out one hand to Tsuzuki. The sunlight accentuated the prominent bones and the hollows of wasted muscles. "Come sit."
"What's happening to you? Why are you so thin?"
"Why, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki brushed a strand of silver hair behind his ear. "You actually sound concerned about me. How touching."
"You look terrible." Tsuzuki glanced at the kitchen. No plates or cups in the sink, or the rack nearby. "Have you eaten lunch?"
Muraki blinked. "No."
"Well, you should." Tsuzuki went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was empty, the shelves bare. So was the freezer. The cupboards were empty too. "Why isn't there any food? Don't tell me you eat out all the time."
"Food is not what I require for sustenance," Muraki said from behind.
"Huh?" Tsuzuki shut the cupboard door and turned around. "What do you mean? Everyone needs food." He remembered the manju he'd brought with him. "Wait. I have something here."
Muraki's gaze glittered, his eyes overbright like a man in the grip of a fever. "A familiar must feed from its master to survive. So must I feed from you." He reached out to grasp Tsuzuki's shoulders. "Please...I've fasted...humbled myself in preparation..."
"Muraki!" Tsuzuki stumbled away from him. "Don't be ridiculous!"
"You are the one being ridiculous." Muraki's voice was quiet with repressed fury. "What more must I do? Must I shed my life's blood anew? Pour a flood of tears in repentance?"
"No!" Tsuzuki shook his head in vehement denial. "You never had to--"
"Should I prepare more human sacrifice? Or are there other atrocities I must commit in your name?" Muraki gripped the kitchen bench for support, his entire body trembling. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting for mastery over his anger. "Tell me," he murmured. "Tell me, and I will obey. I am--"
"Shut up! Enough of your lies!" Tsuzuki covered his ears to block out the damning words. "I am not responsible for your crimes! My hands are already bloodied..." His back itched again, this time worse than before. "...without adding yours..." He gasped aloud as it erupted into a burning pain that sizzled from each shoulder blade, along his back, to end above each hip.
"It hurts, ne? Now you know." Muraki chuckled to himself. "I should let you suffer as I have - leave you to your gilded prison. Treat you with the same indifference you have shown me."
Tsuzuki ripped off his trenchcoat. Was this a curse? An attack? He turned around, but the only creature in the living room was the kitten. "You!" he snarled. "What is this?"
The kitten scrambled under the coffee table for refuge.
"Coward." Awkwardly Tsuzuki pulled his shirt out of his trousers and felt his back with one hand. The skin was smooth, unmarked...and ultra-sensitive to touch. "What's happening?" He groaned as another burning pain shot through him. He remembered this - the darkness seeking escape. "No...not again..."
Muraki took pity on him. "Let me help." He approached Tsuzuki with outstretched arms, lips twisted in an ironic smile.
"Go to hell." Tsuzuki began unbuttoning his shirt, his fingers fumbling in his desperation. A mark? A brand? He needed to see for himself.
"I'm already there, you fool." Muraki's mocking laughter rang in his ears, a terrible sound without humour or warmth. "Come join me." He yanked Tsuzuki's wrist and pulled him to the lounge chair. "I know how to ease this."
Tsuzuki tried to pull away, but doubled over as another burning pain shot through him. He half-fell, half-stumbled into Muraki's arms as they sat down together, so overcome he barely knew what he was doing. Having his torso ripped apart by an energy bolt didn't hurt half as much as this. "Why...?" A hopeless whimper left his throat as he buried his face against Muraki's shoulder. "I can't..."
"Hush." Muraki pulled up Tsuzuki's shirt and traced the path of burning skin with cool fingertips. "I filled you too soon, but you were so eager I couldn't resist." He pressed his lips against Tsuzuki's ear. "This is partly your own fault - the outcome of your selfishness."
"My fault?" The pain relented a little as Muraki leached it away with his touch. "How--"
Sharp nails dug into his left shoulder blade, tearing the flesh down to his waist.
Tsuzuki gasped and arched against him. It hurt, but it felt so good.
Muraki clawed at the right shoulder blade, then the left, and then the right again. His nails scored Tsuzuki's back repeatedly with bloody lacerations.
Tsuzuki leaned back, lips parted, eyes slitted as he luxuriated in the violent excoriations. Pain nullified pain, leaving an itchy-ticklish sensation that induced tremors of delight. This was exactly what he needed. His gloved fingers curled and shifted over Muraki's broad shoulders, soft velvet pressing against starched white linen, a gentler imitation of what Muraki inflicted on him.
"Mmm. So impatient." Muraki's voice was soft with affection, a jarring contrast to his touch. "It's not my time yet. Soon, I promise." He pulled Tsuzuki into a kiss. His mouth was warm as he drank, his tongue playfully sliding against Tsuzuki's as he sought to taste more. His hands flattened possessively against Tsuzuki's back, fingers outstretched as they slid over the rapidly healing skin. Only the stickiness of drying blood remained as evidence of his cruelty.
Tsuzuki felt dizzy. Now his body melted in pleasure, his muscles languid and heavy. He leaned closer, freely allowing Muraki to take what he sought. Muraki was salty-sweet, a mixture of flavours that intoxicated him.
The manju bun couldn't compare. He had to taste more.
Tsuzuki tore his lips away to press open-mouthed kisses against Muraki's throat. Smooth with a hint of damp perspiration. He allowed his teeth to graze it slightly, testing its firmness, enjoying the vibrations as Muraki growled his name again. But the taste here was too subtle for his liking.
His hands blindly sought the fly of Muraki's trousers.
"Tsuzuki-san..." Muraki's voice was thick with yearning. He spread his legs and lifted his hips to assist him. His blood-stained fingers tangled with Tsuzuki's gloved fingers as he fumbled with the zipper.
Tsuzuki slid to the floor to kneel between Muraki's legs, a worshipper before an idol. Their earlier argument was forgotten, the reason for his visit pushed aside. This terrible hunger was a yawning void inside him keening for fulfilment, deafening reason and logic with its incoherent cry. Tsuzuki roughly pulled at the clothing concealing his objective. Seizing the erection in one hand, he lowered his head and wrapped his lips around the sensitive crown.
Muraki shivered. A sensualist by nature, he was helpless to resist. He arched his hips instinctively, pushing himself deeper. But his long fingers wound into Tsuzuki's hair as he tried to limit the depth of his thrust.
Tsuzuki ignored him. He allowed the cock to brush the roof of his mouth, and lapped at the underside with his tongue. It jerked and hardened against his lips. The taste was richer here, more salty and earthy, the texture silk-smooth. Tsuzuki's mouth filled with saliva as he suckled and toyed with the shaft, carefully adjusting himself to accommodate its bulk and heft.
Muraki threw his head against the lounge, teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut. Every muscle was locked in tension. Not a sound left his lips.
Such willpower. How Tsuzuki longed to break it.
Twisting his head slightly, Tsuzuki let the crown brush the inside of his cheek and slide deeper to the back of his throat. He swallowed around it once, twice, then began sucking in earnest.
"You..." A growl left Muraki's throat. "Don't tempt me...ahh...no..." His fingers pulled Tsuzuki's hair to the point of pain.
But Tsuzuki didn't care. The male musk intoxicated him. Precome filled his mouth, a fascinating mixture of salty and bitter and other flavours too complex to identify. He gulped it down, trembling in anticipation. He needed to be gentle...but he wanted so much more.
Something hissed behind him. A small weight pounced on his back. Little claws pierced his flesh through his shirt. But in contrast to Muraki's scratches, this sent a flood of renewed agony pouring through his entire body. Tsuzuki jerked free, releasing Muraki's cock.
Muraki swore and grabbed the kitten by the scruff of its neck. His false eye glowed as he stared at it. "You are not to hurt him. Overstep your authority, and I swear I will--"
The kitten yowled loudly, its limbs scrabbling in mid-air.
Muraki's features became cold. "That is for me to decide, not you."
The feline yowled again and again, infuriated at such treatment.
Tsuzuki stumbled back up to sit on the lounge, gasping for breath. "This is crazy," he muttered. "First you, now your cat. If I were a true masochist, I could have gone to Hakushaku--"
"Quiet," Muraki snapped as he released the kitten. It landed on all fours, yowled again, and retreated to the window. Muraki glared at the creature, his breathing harsh. "You are not to think of others when you are here with me. I am to be the only person in your thoughts."
Tsuzuki shook his head, resisting the urge to laugh. "Your arrogance knows no bounds. Do you really believe you can tell me what to think? I'm not here to be your puppet, obedient to your every whim."
"I see." Muraki cast him a sidelong look. "But you know the type of person I am, yet you still visit me."
"You need help. Look at yourself. This demonic alliance of yours is a sham." The prominent bones were all too obvious in daylight. The creased white shirt only served to emphasise Muraki's bony angularity. "Your suffering is all part of its scheme. It will grant you power and offer you rewards beyond your dreams. But when it gets what it wants, all its promises will fall away like these cards." Tsuzuki reached a hand out to send the tower tumbling.
Muraki seized his wrist. "No." He roughly knocked the cards down himself, sending them flying across the table. "I finish what I start, for better or worse." He looked at Tsuzuki's gloved hand, trapped in his grip. "I do not tolerate interference from anyone."
"Even me?" Tsuzuki didn't bother to hide the mockery in his voice. "I thought you said you were mine."
"Even you." Muraki searched his face gravely for a long moment, then smiled. "But you're more than welcome to try. Providing I am blessed with the pleasure of your company, I will do my best to bear the inconvenience." He pressed a kiss to the velvet-clad palm and gently closed Tsuzuki's fingers around it.
Violent one moment, seductive the next. Tsuzuki doubted he'd ever be able to keep up with Muraki's mercurial shifts in mood. With the skill of a chameleon, he knew how to change his demeanour to suit his purpose.
"You need to eat," Tsuzuki said, his voice flat. He pulled his hand free, and took out the manju bun from his pocket. A single jagged split marred the white shell. Red adzuki bean paste oozed out, staining the napkin.
"You bought it this morning? They should have given you a box to carry it." Muraki began to tuck himself back into his trousers.
"You're right. They're more fragile than they look." Tsuzuki ripped the bun in two. "Here."
"It isn't what I--"
"Take it." Tsuzuki pushed half of it into his hands. "If you're going to play games with a demon, you need to take better care of yourself."
Muraki raised a quizzical brow, but took it anyway. He looked at it curiously for a moment. "He took bread and broke it," he murmured to himself.
"What?"
Muraki bowed his head. His silver hair glinted in the sunlight as it fell over his eyes. "Nothing."
They ate in silence on the lounge, foregoing the social niceties. Muraki had done his trousers up, but his shirt was still skewed crookedly over his chest. Tsuzuki didn't even bother buttoning up his shirt - Muraki had seen everything already.
The kitten climbed on the coffee table and meowed at them. Muraki sighed, and offered it the small piece he had left.
"Speaking of games, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki said, "have you ever played golf?"
Tsuzuki blinked at him. "No." It wasn't played in Japan when he was alive, and EnmaCho didn't have the funds to splurge on the extravagance of a golf course.
"It's a very pleasant outdoor activity - challenging, but not too vigorous. Today is the ideal weather for it. Why don't we play this afternoon? Huis Ten Bosch Country Club, one of the finest golf courses in Japan, is only a few hours' away by car. It has beautiful views of the bay and surrounding woodlands. Well worth a visit for the tourist...and the Shinigami taking a well-earned break from work."
"I want to know what happened to me." Tsuzuki rolled his shoulders, testing his back. No pain or scratches remained. The burning ache was gone. "What did you do?"
"We can talk and play at the same time. Such is the civilised nature of a golf game." He cast Tsuzuki a sly look. "If you don't know how to play, I will be more than happy to teach you."
Tsuzuki considered the alternative: trapped in the apartment, distracted by his own lust and Muraki's persistent attention. Maybe an outdoor location would be easier. And he still had the list of potential demon names to test on the feline...
"Fine." He dusted the manju crumbs from his gloves. "As long as your kitten accompanies us, why not?"
xxxxx