Thanks to Demonprist and Gengkotsuya for their help. And thanks to those who've kept reading and offered comments as well - I appreciate the support!
They went to Shianbashi, the bustling entertainment district in the south of the city. Muraki nudged the Ferrari through narrow lanes beneath a canopy of multicoloured neon signs, past seedy bars that only came alive at midnight, and deserted pachinko parlours blaring loud music, until they reached a traditional Edo period building on the outskirts of Shianbashi.
Muraki parked in an adjacent alleyway. "Here we are. This establishment began life as a brothel, but is now a restaurant serving some of the finest shippoku cuisine in Nagasaki."
"Shippoku? I thought such restaurants required advance bookings--"
"I made a reservation yesterday for the two of us."
How presumptuous - Muraki had correctly assumed he would visit in time for dinner. But Tsuzuki kept these thoughts to himself as he got out of the car.
Muraki locked the doors, leaving the cat inside.
"Will it be okay in there?"
"The temperature inside is neither uncomfortably hot or cold. The air vents are open so it is unlikely to suffocate." He cast an annoyed look Tsuzuki's way.
Tsuzuki chose to ignore it. He followed Muraki inside to be greeted by obsequious staff bowing before them. Instead of walking into the main dining area, they were led through shadowy corridors to a large private room. Painted scrolls lined the walls, depicting carp and birds and landscapes with meticulous detail and vivid colours. A low round red lacquer table with an elevated rotating tabletop stood in the centre of the room. Mats and cushions were provided for sitting on one's knees at the table.
Refusing a hostess's offer to take his coat, Tsuzuki placed it by his side as he knelt at the table. Muraki chose a position facing him, and ordered sake for them both.
Tsuzuki stifled his annoyance at not being consulted. Muraki was footing the bill - one that would come to at least 40,000 yen for the meal alone. Was it any surprise he rejected the gifts? He was spending several times their value on their evening together.
Tsuzuki felt the heavy weight of the bracelet in his pocket, and his spirits sinking with it. He could never hope to meet Muraki's flamboyant tastes.
"This is your first proper shippoku, ne? I expect a person of your status has only tasted the mini-shippoku offered by mediocre restaurants."
Tsuzuki's eyes flashed, but he didn't deny it.
He remembered eating mini-shippoku when he first met Hisoka. He had decided to spend more than his allowance to welcome his newest partner, and the meal ended in a noisy fight and Hisoka passing out. From such an inauspicious beginning, they had forged a solid working partnership. Hisoka enjoyed the challenges and thrived on his responsibilities as a Shinigami.
Tsuzuki enjoyed teasing him to the point of being a nuisance - someone had to remind Hisoka there was more to the afterlife than work. But inside he was proud of his serious partner. Hisoka was maturing in character - less sullen and stubborn, more willing to listen and learn. With Tatsumi's training, he would grow in spiritual power.
Even the curse marks Muraki had drawn on his flesh remained dim - a sign that Hisoka's spiritual power was growing in strength to overcome the curse...
Or Muraki's power was waning.
Tsuzuki eyed Muraki discreetly from across the table. His black jacket combined with the rich hues of the room drained his pale complexion of colour, making him appear more ghost than human. Yet his shoulders filled out the tuxedo well, and the severe lines of the suit drew attention to his muscular physique.
"A toast, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki held up his sake cup. "May we both feast well tonight."
Tsuzuki flushed, but lifted his chin in defiant challenge along with his cup. "I intend to. It would be rude of me to let your generosity go to waste."
Over the rim of his cup, Muraki's gaze glittered with restless hunger.
The first course was clear fish soup. It was followed by an array of small dishes served on the rotating tabletop. There was steamed bream; a selection of tuna, salmon, kingfish and octopus sashimi garnished with pickled ginger, shredded daikon and seaweed; shrimp and pork dumplings topped with crab roe; slices of barbecued pork arranged like fallen domino pieces in a circle; a clay hotpot with stewed pork and vegetables; crispy salted tofu with vegetables; nanbanzuke-style tuna deep fried and served with wasabi mayonnaise; black soybeans simmered in soy sauce; stir-fried dried fish; herring roe...
The number of dishes jostling for room blurred before Tsuzuki's eyes. The aroma made his stomach rumble and his mouth water.
"Nagasaki has a unique place in Japanese history - for the past four centuries, it was the gateway for trade and diplomacy. Even when Japan chose to close all seaports in a futile attempt to halt the onslaught of foreign influence, they left Nagasaki open as the single designated seaport for trade. The Chinese and European influence extended to the shippoku dishes that are unique to this city."
So much food. For Tsuzuki, a banquet like this was the stuff of dreams. When he lay in the semi-conscious twilight between life and death waiting for the end, he would fantasise about a meal like this to ease the hunger pangs.
Muraki began to serve himself, but stopped when he noticed Tsuzuki's stillness. "What is wrong? Does the food not please you?"
Tsuzuki shook his head. This formal dinner in opulent surroundings brought back memories of another dinner. "I just wondered...do you make a habit of eating at places that are associated with brothels? There was the one in Kyoto, and again here. Did you frequent this place before when you wanted a warm body for the night?"
"Tsuzuki-san," Muraki chided, "this has been a fine dining restaurant for almost a decade."
The hostesses had left the room - they were free to speak plainly. "So how did you find it? Did you notice it on your way to one of the other nearby brothels? Shianbashi means 'rumination bridge.' Visitors suffered a guilty conscience as they walked over the bridge leading to this area."
"Really? I never knew." Muraki's lips twisted in a wry smile. "How quaint. I assure you, I only learned about this restaurant's history from tourist guides. Where is this bridge you speak of?"
Tsuzuki took a selection of vegetables and fish. "It's all in the past. The bridge is gone and no one thinks twice about coming here now."
"I see." Muraki mused on this while he ate. "So what makes you think I spend all my free time in brothels? Do you believe I am incapable of controlling my baser appetites?"
Tsuzuki nodded as he bit into the nanbanzuke fish. Crisp and tangy with a hint of sweetness. Delicious.
"Hmm." Muraki looked miffed. "I must work hard to redeem my tarnished reputation."
"It's more than tarnished." Tsuzuki took an octopus sashimi with pickled ginger, and dipped it in soy sauce.
"A trifle dented," Muraki conceded.
"Smashed." Tsuzuki bit into the sashimi - delicious. He hadn't eaten octopus this good in ages. "Rusted with holes. Well and truly beyond repair. Not even suitable for scrap metal."
Muraki frowned. When Tsuzuki tried to take a second one, he swung the tabletop around.
"Hey! I haven't finished with that!"
"You have now." With a cheerful smirk, Muraki helped himself.
Tsuzuki saw red...until he remembered that losing his temper would give Muraki the advantage. There was nothing to be gained in hurling a tantrum over minor breaches of etiquette. Muraki enjoyed baiting him for his own amusement. Tsuzuki was determined not to let him have that satisfaction.
Besides, Muraki was paying for the meal - he deserved first claim to the food. There were many other dishes to sample.
So Tsuzuki went back to eating. The food was mouth-watering; the servings generous. The company was aggravating, but not enough to diminish his appetite. For several minutes, the only sound was the occasional click of chopsticks.
"I am extremely fortunate to have the master of Kokakurou as a friend - each time I visit Kyoto, he gives me shelter and access to the excellent services provided by his establishment. It would be ungracious for me to refuse his hospitality, ne? Nevertheless, I am not a frequent brothel client. Much as I enjoy the delights of obliging feminine company, regular visits would be a serious drain on one's bank balance. There are more productive ways to spend one's money."
"Like penthouse apartments and Ferrari cars?"
Muraki grinned. "Exactly. Some might regard them as examples of gross self-indulgence, but they also serve as valuable assets - which is more than can be said for brothel fees." He eyed Tsuzuki with amused curiosity. "Have you ever utilised the services of a prostitute?"
"No." Tsuzuki took a serving of the hotpot. "I have no interest in such things."
"Why not? I know you cannot afford their services, but surely if money was no object--"
"I don't want to pay for sex. Prostitution is demeaning to everyone involved - it treats women as objects and turns sex into a cold-blooded business transaction."
"What of it? Does it disturb you to pay for food or drink?"
"No, but that's different--"
"Not at all. Lust is a physical appetite like hunger or thirst, instilled into all living things to ensure survival of the species. Humans have wrapped it in elaborate ritual and invested it with emotional significance to conceal the baseness at the heart of physical desire."
Tsuzuki finished his mouthful of food, while his mind worked on a suitable reply. "If you're talking about lust, I take your point. I'm sure your experience there is greater than mine."
"Why, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki looked insufferably pleased. "I do believe you are becoming more rational the more time you spend in my company."
"But where's the spontaneity? Where's the thrill of flirtation and seduction - the anticipation of the chase?" Tsuzuki put down his chopsticks. "I can't imagine how a night with a prostitute, even the most skilled and beautiful, can ever match the excitement of being with someone who is as turned on by you as you are by them. All the money in the world can't buy you that kind of chemistry." He looked Muraki in the eye, daring him to disagree. "Rewarding sex does more than fill a physical need - it satisfies the soul and stimulates the mind."
"What do you know?" Muraki sneered. "Have you experienced this 'rewarding sex' you praise so highly? How can it be fulfilling if you remain crippled by anorgasmia?"
Tsuzuki flushed. "I'm not talking about me! I was speaking generally. There's more to sex than getting off--"
"I suppose you have to believe that in view of your pitiful affliction." Muraki snickered. "But to any reasonable person with an intact sexual response, sex without orgasm is a waste of time and effort. Sex is first and foremost a physical act driven by biological imperative. The spiritual and intellectual aspects are merely constructs that facilitate the underlying physiological response."
"So what does that say about you and your libido? When you raped Hisoka - were you at the mercy of your 'biology'? When you come to me insisting you must 'feed' - are you simply a dog in heat?"
Muraki's eyes flashed. "Tsuzuki-san..."
"You shouldn't worry about being human." Tsuzuki leaned forward, his hands clenched in fists. "Your problems are a lot more fundamental than that. Judging by your behaviour towards others, you're no better than an animal!"
"Silence," Muraki hissed. "You speak out of virtuous ignorance, and spout opinion on subjects you know next to nothing about." He jabbed at the last dumpling. "Spare me your sentimental platitudes - I have no use for them."
"Listen to me!" Tsuzuki whirled the tabletop around. "Someone has to tell you the truth about yourself!"
"You of all people are in no position to lecture me about 'truth' - unless you wish to enlighten me on how you've avoided the truth about yourself for close to a century."
Tsuzuki seized the dumpling and devoured it in one bite. A petty victory, but it served to keep in check the insults he longed to let loose. A verbal slanging match would achieve nothing. He already knew talking to Muraki was an exercise in futility and frustration...especially when he threw barbed reminders of Tsuzuki's own past. In Kyoto, such hints were enough to send him into frozen shock, for he had always believed his secret safe with Chief Konoe and the senior bureaucrats in EnmaCho.
Thanks to Muraki's obsessive pursuit and attentions, he knew better now.
He forced down the shadowy spectres of guilt and shame - he wouldn't let them win again. He didn't want a repeat of the events that took place in Kyoto. He wouldn't relinquish his soul and hurt others like that again. He needed to be strong.
The past was the past. Guilt and shame were useless emotions, Muraki once told him. Maybe he had a point.
Across the table, Muraki waited in anticipation for Tsuzuki's rejoinder. When none was forthcoming, he shrugged and returned to his own meal.
Left to his own thoughts, Tsuzuki ate in subdued silence.
Sex as a function of biology. So where did that leave their encounters? The frenzied way they came together - was that typical of how prostitutes acted with their clients? Tsuzuki didn't think so, but what did he know? Muraki came to him to slake his lust and desire for power. The urgent pleas and lavish praise, the bites and scratches, the passion so fierce it melted his bones and willpower...all driven purely by a desire to achieve a biological objective.
Muraki once even compared him to a prostitute - this was one truth he had never tried to conceal.
Tsuzuki kept eating. Pick pieces from dish, return to bowl, bring food to mouth. His stomach still ached.
A hostess entered to take away plates, and pour tea and sake. "Is everything satisfactory?"
"It's wonderful!" Tsuzuki beamed at her. "There's so many tasty dishes - I can't decide on a favourite."
She smiled back. "Thank you. Please eat more until you can make up your mind."
"Give my compliments to the chef for an excellent dinner. My only regret is that such a fine shippoku is not available in Tokyo."
"Thank you, sensei. Your guests are here. Do you wish me to bring them in after dessert?"
"Let's not keep them waiting. Please bring them in with dessert."
The hostess bowed and left them.
"What's she talking about?"
"I took the liberty of organising some after-dinner entertainment." Muraki sipped his sake. "They come highly recommended as being most gifted in their profession."
"Oh. You didn't have to do that." Did Muraki have money to burn? Hiring entertainers must have cost a fortune. "I'm not here to be entertained. I'm on a case--"
"Even so, you need time to relax and unwind, ne? Earlier you insisted that an encounter with a prostitute could never be as satisfying as being with someone with whom you share..." He waved his cup in mid-air as he searched for the word. "...'chemistry.' Is that correct?"
Tsuzuki's brows knitted together. He sensed a trap. "Yes."
"Good. Very good." Muraki drained the rest of his sake cup and put it down with a decisive knock. "Let's put your hypothesis to the test."
"What?"
The hostess returned with a tray of umewan soup, a rice broth flavoured with sweet red beans and salted sakura blossoms. After serving them, she slid open a door situated at the other end of the room. "I hope you have an enjoyable evening."
Tsuzuki's spoon fell into his bowl, splashing soup on the table.
Piercing green eyes pinned him to the spot. Chestnut brown hair cut in a feathery bob framed a pale triangular face.
Tsuzuki couldn't move. It couldn't be. His spiritual sense should have detected something...anything. How the hell was he going to explain himself?
"Hi...Hisoka?" It came out as a tiny squeak.
"Tsuzuki-san," Muraki drawled, "your eyes must be playing tricks on you. Allow me to introduce the beautiful ladies who will be your companions for this evening. First we have Kaneko."
Tsuzuki's jaw dropped. A female?
Kaneko bowed and lowered her gaze. Dressed in a figure-hugging sheath of emerald green, she glided into the room. Her body was willow-slim like a boy's except for the small curves of breasts and hips.
Tsuzuki was dizzy with relief. Not Hisoka - just a girl who looked a lot like him. He cast Muraki an accusatory glare; Muraki smiled indulgently in return, the picture of innocence.
Kaneko took her place by Tsuzuki's side. The top of her head was a little above Tsuzuki's shoulder, the same height as Hisoka. Up close, Tsuzuki realised she lacked Hisoka's lean muscularity around the shoulders and upper arms. Her jaw was less prominent too, giving her features a waifish look that accentuated her large eyes.
"Good evening, Tsuzuki-san." Her voice was light and musical. Her mobile lips curved into a shy smile.
No, not Hisoka - Tsuzuki couldn't remember a time when Hisoka smiled with such unaffected sweetness.
"Good evening...ah, Kaneko." Tsuzuki laughed to cover his embarrassment. He knew it was rude, but he couldn't help staring. Her resemblance to Hisoka was uncanny. Could she be a cousin? "You know, you look a lot like someone I know--"
Muraki cleared his throat. "Next, we have Maruyama."
A statuesque brunette entered the room. Dressed in a velvet gown of royal blue, she moved with the pliancy of a reed. Her hair was tied in a chignon, drawing attention to her high cheekbones, narrow face and long swan-like neck. She carried herself with a serene self-possession that left Tsuzuki awe-struck.
Maruyama took her place by Tsuzuki's other side. In kneeling position, the top of her chignon made her taller than him. "Good evening, Tsuzuki-san."
Tsuzuki bowed, deeply embarrassed. He wasn't accustomed to being in close proximity to strange beautiful women. "Would you like something to drink...either of you? We have tea and sake--"
"We are here to serve you." Her low voice held a warm huskiness that caressed the ear. She picked up the sake bottle. "Would you like more?"
Tsuzuki held out his cup.
"Last but not least," Muraki said, "we have Nanami."
Nanami was tall like Maruyama, but it was there the similarity ended. Nanami's long wavy blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders as she bounded into the room. She wore a halter-neck dress of gold chiffon with a V-neckline revealing a hint of cleavage, and a skirt that fell to her knees to show off shapely calves and ankles.
"Hello Tsuzuki-san!" She knelt down with a flourish next to Kaneko. "It's good to meet you! Did you enjoy your meal? On, you must eat more - you haven't touched your soup!"
Kaneko picked up the bowl and spoon. "Let me feed you, Tsuzuki-san."
"No, you don't have to!" Tsuzuki laughed. "That's really kind of you, but I can do it myself."
"But I want to do it," Kaneko insisted, her eyes wide. She lowered her gaze, hurt by his rebuff.
"Oh." Injuring her feelings was the last thing he intended. "Well, if you really want to..."
"I do."
"Okay then." He obediently accepted the mouthful of soup.
"Let me massage your shoulders, Tsuzuki-san." Maruyama knelt behind Tsuzuki. Her slender hands kneaded the muscles of his neck and shoulders with surprising strength. Her thumbs moved in firm circles along his upper spine, soothing tight muscles Tsuzuki didn't know he had. When Tsuzuki stiffened at a sore spot, she eased her touch. "You accumulate tension here. You must work very hard."
Tsuzuki flushed. "No, not really. My colleagues often complain I don't work hard enough."
"Look at the clothes he is wearing! How can he unwind with that stiff collar and tie?" Nanami lunged for Tsuzuki's throat. "Let me help you remove that!"
"Hey! I can do it on my own!"
"Don't struggle!" Nanami giggled. "Help me, Kaneko. You can feed him afterwards!"
Across the table, Muraki observed Tsuzuki in silence. His soup lay untouched.
"Stop that! Hey! That tickles! If you'd just give me some room..." Holding off two pairs of hands proved impossible. Within seconds, his tie and the top two buttons of his creased shirt were undone.
"There, that's better!" Nanami flicked her hair over her shoulders and giggled again. "Now why don't you stretch your legs - your feet will get pins and needles if you kneel too long!"
Kaneko held up another spoonful of soup. "Here, Tsuzuki-san. You haven't finished dessert yet."
"Your muscles are still tense, Tsuzuki-san." Maruyama's thumbs worked magic as she moved up his neck to the base of his skull. "Rest your head against me - that's the best way to relax."
Tsuzuki pinched himself to make sure he wasn't imagining things. Flattered by their attention, his mouth full of delicious soup, and his neck and shoulders dissolving into putty, he let them guide him into a semi-reclining position on the cushions. Nanami pulled off his socks and began to massage his feet with capable hands. Maruyama gave him a soothing scalp massage while his head was propped up by cushions. Kaneko knelt by his side, eager to feed him more soup.
He looked Muraki's way to find him quietly sipping his soup alone. "What...what's the meaning of this?"
"Meaning?" Muraki lifted one brow. "There is no meaning tonight - merely the indulgence of one's senses in the simple pleasures of the flesh."
"But...what about you? Why aren't they--"
"Our guests are here to entertain you, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki smiled merrily, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thank you for your consideration, but there's no need to concern yourself on my behalf."
"Please have more soup, Tsuzuki-san." Kaneko held out the spoon again.
Tsuzuki knew something wasn't right. But the soup was delicious. Maruyama's fingers circling his temples felt so wonderfully relaxing. And Nanami's fingers digging gently into the soles of his feet were a revelation - he never knew feet could be the source of such blissful delight. His initial embarrassment crumbled into whole-hearted enjoyment. He couldn't resist their expertise or his own sensual nature.
Maruyama's hands moved to his chest, massaging his upper torso with firm flowing strokes. Tsuzuki flushed - as she leaned over him, he was treated to a close-up view of her generous bustline. Hastily he looked away.
"More soup, Tsuzuki-san?" Kaneko smiled warmly. "You've nearly finished."
She was so cute. She reminded him of the boy Hijiri - always happy and cheerful, even when his life was endangered by Saagatanus. Maybe she was related to him instead. "Sure. It's delicious."
Kaneko blushed as if she'd made it herself. "Thank you."
Muraki lowered his gaze and rose to his feet. "Nicotine addiction is a terrible craving - it refuses to observe the social propriety of mealtimes. Excuse me while I go outside for a short while. The last thing I wish to do is subject everyone here to the dangers of passive smoking."
Tsuzuki turned, remembering his presence. "How...how long will you be?"
"Long enough." Muraki looked over his shoulder, lips twisted in a mocking smile. "Enjoy yourself in my absence, ne?"
"Hey, wait! Where are you going?"
Too late - Muraki had already slid the door shut behind him.
Maruyama pulled him down on the cushions. "No wonder your muscles are so tense, Tsuzuki-san. If you remain this agitated, you will undo the effects of my massage."
"You don't understand! He's the reason I'm here - I can't let him get away!" He tried to push her hands away.
"Don't you like us?" Kaneko asked. Her eyes glistened as she blinked at him.
"Yes! No! I mean...it's not that I don't like you - I do very much but--"
"Let's see if Tsuzuki-san has ticklish feet!" Nanami cried.
"Hey! Stop! Enough!" Tsuzuki's chest heaved with involuntary laughter. "Stop that!" He kicked out, narrowly missing her head. "Don't do that!"
"He's a stallion of untamed spirit!" She elbowed the serious Kaneko in the ribs. "Do you want to ride him first? Make sure you hold on tight or else he'll throw you off!"
Tsuzuki clutched his sides as he caught his breath. Who were these crazy women? Whatever Muraki intended by inviting them here, this wasn't his idea of entertainment.
"Nanami, stop being so irresponsible," Maruyama scolded. "You are only making him upset." She caressed Tsuzuki's hair with gentle fingers. "Rest your head on my lap, Tsuzuki-san. Let me massage your shoulders again."
Tsuzuki shook his head. "That's all right. You've given me a great massage already." He combed his fingers through his disordered hair as he sat up. "You've been great - you all have. But I need to see what Muraki is up to."
"Do you like his company more than ours?" Kaneko asked sadly.
"No! He's terrible company. We argue all the time. But he has a reputation for getting in trouble, which is why I need to keep a close eye on him." He patted her shoulder; the bare skin was soft as velvet. "I'll find him and bring him back--"
"Tsuzuki-san is kinky!" Nanami clapped her hands in delight. "Do you want him to watch? Some men are turned on when they perform for their friends."
"Perform? Perform what?"
Nanami burst into giggles, her blonde hair trembling about her.
Maruyama gently kneaded his shoulders again. "Tsuzuki-san, I'm sure he will be back soon." Her fingers slid beneath his collar to caress the nape of his neck. "Few men would offer a friend such privacy under these circumstances. We should take advantage of the opportunity he has given us."
They were talking in riddles. Something about this situation felt wrong...but her touch felt very nice. "Ahh...what opportunity?"
Kaneko moved nearer and unbuttoned his shirt. "We want to be with you, Tsuzuki-san. We want to spend time with you."
Up close Tsuzuki noticed the thickness of her lashes. Her green eyes were so wide he could lose himself in their depths. Her rosebud lips, stained with lipstick, parted to reveal a small pink tongue.
She was beautiful...and extremely distracting. "Err...why?"
"We are here to please you, Tsuzuki-san." With her hair falling into her eyes, Kaneko looked like a sleepy child, but her alluring expression hinted at experience beyond her years.
Being a Shinigami entitled one to many powers, but immunity from temptation wasn't one of them.
Tsuzuki lowered his head. Her lips were cool, her mouth fresh and sweet. She offered no resistance when he pulled her close - her soft curves yielded easily against him, and her mouth accommodated his tentative exploration. Her hair was soft and fluffy between his fingers...
Just like Hisoka's.
Ruffling his partner's hair in jest was the only way he could appreciate the texture. Hisoka found such playful contact annoying, so he made sure not to do it too often.
But Kaneko welcomed his touch. She sighed and shivered in enjoyment.
Tsuzuki pulled away, unsettled by her eagerness. She wasn't Hisoka - imagining she could be a substitute only made him guilty. "Why are you doing this?"
She kissed his throat and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. Her dainty hands were cool against his skin.
Behind him, Maruyama pulled his shirt free from his shoulders. At his feet, Nanami giggled again and tugged at his trousers.
Tsuzuki watched, bewildered at their haste. Their touch was undeniably arousing. Kaneko was lovely - kissing her had been most pleasant. But he didn't know her. He didn't know any of them. Their eagerness made no sense. Women didn't normally throw themselves at him like this.
And where the hell was Muraki?
But there are some things one can do with a woman one cannot do with a man...
Enjoy yourself in my absence, ne?
Disgust surged within him. Their caresses made his skin crawl. He grabbed Kaneko's wrists.
"What is it?" Her wide-eyed stare was as guileless as a child's. Maybe she was - she didn't yet have the full curves of an adult woman. "You're...you're hurting me."
"Sorry." They were pawns unworthy of his anger. He eased his grip - he would save it for later. "Tell me how much my bastard of a 'friend' is paying you all for tonight."
The lighter refused to work. Each time Muraki flicked it, it spat sparks and went out.
Lounging against the side of the Ferrari, Muraki's shoulders slumped beneath the fine material of his tuxedo jacket.
The grey cat stood on the soft-top roof, watching over his shoulder. Its iridescent grey eyes reflected the coloured neon lights from the main street.
"Perhaps Saagatanus drained it when he graced us with his presence." He placed it within his breast pocket, next to his penknife. His pistol rested in a shoulder holster under his left arm.
The cat meowed loudly.
"If you want it so badly, you have it. He gave it to you, ne?"
The feline hissed and clawed his jacket.
Muraki's attention was elsewhere. There was a commotion outside the restaurant: high-pitched voices, shrill laughter and the click-clack of high heels. Cloying sweet perfume reached his nostrils, followed by the whiff of another scent - the one he would always detect amid a thousand others, for it had been imprinted onto what remained of his soul, as well as his eye for anyone with the understanding to recognise it.
He walked to the corner, taking care to keep himself concealed in the shadows. The three women were leaving in a hurry.
The cat let out a plaintive meow, but he ignored it. He needed to follow them. He had waited long enough.
Muraki stepped out - only to be slammed against the wall.
"You bastard! You fucking bastard!"
The cloak of invisibility couldn't hide the fury in Tsuzuki's voice...or the grip on the lapels of his jacket.
Muraki managed a choked laugh - Tsuzuki's knuckles against his throat made it hard to breathe. "I don't talk...to poltergeists."
Tsuzuki's corporeal form materialised, alive and warm, his gaze blistering violet fire. "Manipulating others to do your dirty work - I knew you'd resort to such cowardly actions sooner or later!"
"No one was manipulated. Those women came to you of their own free will--"
"You liar! You bribed them!"
"I paid them for a service," Muraki corrected smoothly, "in the same way I paid for the restaurant bill." He tilted his head to one side, his gaze lingering on the traces of lipstick on Tsuzuki's jaw. "A service you enjoyed, ne?"
"I never asked for this! I don't want to be serviced like some prize bull at a cattle stud!"
"When I left you, you appeared to appreciate their attentions. Consider it a gift - the opportunity to savour one of the many life experiences denied to you." Muraki looked away for a moment. "How did you go?"
"It went nowhere! I threw them out! I reject your gift the same way you rejected mine! How do you like a taste of your own medicine, sensei?"
Muraki frowned, displeased. "You lie."
"Hah!" Tsuzuki let go and stepped back, gloating in triumph. "You weren't expecting that, were you? Do you take me for a fool? I know what your plan is!"
"But they carried your scent--"
"Oh, they tried, I'll give them that." Tsuzuki pulled his trenchcoat tighter over the rumpled shirt hanging out of his trousers.
"I see." Muraki's tone was flat. "It was blood, not essence. So you remain in your wretched state of perpetual frustration." He eyed Tsuzuki for a long moment. "Were you anxious in their presence? I went to considerable effort to choose women you would feel comfortable with. They were chosen especially for you based on physical features and personality to be similar to individuals you already knew."
"You mean...Kaneko and Hisoka...their looks..."
"The resemblance is striking, ne? You were most taken by her entrance. Of them all, I considered her the most likely to succeed."
"So you chose her...and the others too..." With a pair of glasses, Maruyama could have passed for a female Tatsumi. Nanami's looks and jovial manner were reminiscent of a hyperactive Watari. Each woman bore a resemblance to one of his Shoukanka friends. "You...you think I fantasise about making them all female? You...you..." The realisation sent Tsuzuki into a renewed frenzy of spluttering rage. "Why the hell are you bringing them into this? I don't think of them like that! They're not sex objects! They're my friends! Friends don't fuck each other, you idiot!"
"These women are not your friends." Muraki pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Their physical similarity was intended to settle your anxiety--"
"I don't want to fuck them!" Tsuzuki roared. He no longer cared who heard them. "I don't want to fuck anyone who looks like them!"
Muraki turned away, hands in pockets. "What about the secretary?"
"That's why, dammit! I lost him as a friend for decades! He froze me out for so long...we were barely on speaking terms..." Tsuzuki shook his head viciously. "Never again. I can't ever have that kind of relationship with them, ever! I can't bear to fail anyone else! I...I don't want to lose the only real friends I've ever had..." His voice cracked on the last syllable.
There it was. His greatest fear given voice - the reason he smiled when he was hurting inside; laughed when he wanted to cry; and maintained his guise of cheerful optimism even when a voice inside hissed at the futility of all his efforts.
One day they would know the truth. Maybe they did already. Everyone had been tiptoeing around him, doing their best to forget his disastrous psychological meltdown in Kyoto.
A cold gust of wind whipped through the alley. Tsuzuki's black trenchcoat flapped and flared around him. His black hair flew into his downswept gaze.
Muraki muttered something unintelligible.
"What?"
"You..." Muraki's voice was muffled. One hand was clasped over his mouth.
"What? What is it?"
Muraki's shoulders shook convulsively. A gasping sound came from his chest, repeating itself over and over as it increased in volume.
Tsuzuki grabbed his wrist. "You think this is funny?"
Muraki threw his head back. His entire body trembled as gales of crazed laughter left his lips. It echoed through the alley, rising and falling in pitch, carried by the wind to bounce off the buildings and swirl around them.
Tsuzuki wanted to block his ears. Listening to it go on and on filled him with a horrible sense of deja vu.
"Stop it!" He shook Muraki by the shoulders. "Stop laughing! What the hell is so funny?"
"The irony..." Muraki gasped between spasms, hunched forward. "Don't you see? If you can't be with friends...because you fear failure...and reject prostitutes...out of misplaced guilt...what is left?"
Tsuzuki looked at his bowed head. Muraki prided himself on his sexual skills - to hire these women was already an admission of personal defeat. Impossible not to feel a stirring of sympathy at his humiliation.
On the car roof the cat looked from one man to the other, tail twitching restlessly.
Muraki lifted his head, his lips curved in a grimace. "Tell me what to do, for I have no more schemes up my sleeve." His husky voice was pained, bereft of humour. "What is left?"
Tsuzuki didn't pull away when Muraki rested their foreheads together. Even in failure, Muraki remained a charismatic and compelling man. The warm breath against his face, the hint of cologne mingling with the sake on his breath - these were as familiar and welcome as the nails on his back, the possessive hands over his body, the feel of the cock sliding within him to break through his inhibitions and misgivings with its barrage of pleasure-pain...
Never before had he felt so close to heaven on earth.
Tsuzuki noticed the tell-tale smudge of exhaustion beneath his visible grey eye. This was the face of his nemesis...vulnerable, weakened, almost at his wits' end.
He wanted Muraki more than ever.
"You." He lifted his jaw until their lips touched. "You're left, ne?" Prickling heat trickled between his shoulder blades; a warning Tsuzuki chose to ignore.
Muraki withdrew, his hooded eyes drawn to Tsuzuki's mouth. "You said it was no use, and you were right. I can't match your endurance. We cannot continue like this."
Tsuzuki pulled him back, his heart pounding. "Let's try something...different." He swallowed hard, embarrassed but determined. "Just once--"
"No." Muraki shook him off and began to walk to the car. "I can't."
Tsuzuki followed him. "Whatever you've been through - it doesn't have to be like that! It feels so good when you do it to me." He flushed when Muraki glanced at him. "It's like...being pushed to my limits...vulnerable, yet powerful as well. It's more exhilarating than frightening. I feel like my body is truly mine, not a shell given to me by EnmaCho. You make me feel alive." He touched Muraki's arm when he fumbled for the car keys. "I want to show you the same pleasure. I want you to experience your body as an instrument of wonder and delight, not a source of misery. To be human is a gift--"
"A gift, you call it?" Muraki whirled around. "Then you can have it, for I want no part of it! I will never submit to another man again!"
"It's not submission!" At Muraki's sceptical look, he threw his arms up. "Starve then! See if I care!" The sizzling pain went down Tsuzuki's back, making him wince. He shut his eyes, but the soothing images refused to form in his racing mind. "No...not again..." He ripped off his trenchcoat and threw it in Muraki's astonished face. "You think I want all this power? You think I want my back aching like this?"
"Tsuzuki-san..." The sight of Tsuzuki stripping soothed Muraki's temper faster than a splash of water. "This is a public place."
"Shut up!" He tugged at his tie, tightening the knot in his haste. "You think I want this...this monster inside me?" In frustration he pulled up his shirt, and twisted one arm behind his back. The skin was smooth and unmarked - there was no rash or indentation or boil. "You're a doctor, aren't you? What's the cure for this?"
Muraki's lips tightened. "You must release the energy inside you."
"You keep saying that, but how? This only started when I met you." He doubled over in agony, clutching one shoulder. "It's Saaga's possession all over again. I thought I was free of it..."
The cat hissed and lashed its tail.
"Saagatanus?" Muraki spat the name out. "He is no more! You destroyed him with your own hand!"
"He said this was his mark...that I should be honoured to bear it..."
"That liar. Extinguishment is too lenient a punishment for such blasphemy." Muraki grabbed Tsuzuki by the shoulder. "Get up! Even a mere human knows how to stand upright!"
"Fuck off!" Tsuzuki twisted away. "You're the one responsible for everything! These spasms come on whenever I think of how much I want you! The water from my hands - when Saaga attacked and again in the hotel - I was thinking of you!"
"Me?" Muraki was taken aback. "You think of me?"
Tsuzuki held out his hands. Muraki turned them to the glare of the street light. Water trickled along the palmar creases of both hands.
"Do you mock me? Is this a test? All this time..." He grabbed Tsuzuki's wrists and pulled him close. "I gave willingly at first in the hope you would reciprocate. But all you do is flaunt your power with these childish tricks! Do you think me unworthy? Why won't you share?"
"I don't know how! Or why! You never explained anything..." Tsuzuki fell against Muraki's shoulder as a burst of excruciating pain paralysed him, twisting along his back. The parasite inside him was ripping his body apart...
Muraki roughly pushed him face down over the car roof. The cat scrambled off the roof in alarm. But Muraki didn't notice. He pulled up the back of Tsuzuki's shirt and bit into the shoulder until he drew blood.
Tsuzuki gasped and squirmed, but he didn't resist. His immortal shinigami body could endure much worse. The pain in his back was forgotten - the ferocity of Muraki's teeth lacerating his flesh penetrated the fog of pain like rays of brilliant sunlight.
"Must I eat you alive? Is this the only way I can feed?" He bit again and again along the ridge of one shoulder blade, and then the other. "Tear you apart from limb to limb like a wild animal?" He lapped the blood pooling in the lacerations. "I can act the monster - the savage you despise. If that is your wish--" With his tongue, he caught the trickling drops and licked them clean. "--it will be done."
"Better me," Tsuzuki whispered, "than those women."
Muraki went still. His hands tightened over Tsuzuki's upper arms.
"You told them to seduce me...you wanted each of them to take turns. You planned to feed on their energy, either by murder or curse - your typical modus operandi." Tsuzuki's quiet voice held a wealth of bitterness. "You paid them money, but they would have paid later with their lives."
Muraki chuckled. "You know me so well." His breath gusted over Tsuzuki's shoulder. "Does it disgust you? Or does it please you to know you can drive me to such depravity?" He put his arms around Tsuzuki's waist and pulled him close, indifferent to the blood smearing his jacket and shirt. "The idea of anyone else having you is abhorrent to me. But desperate times call for desperate measures." He rested his chin against Tsuzuki's shoulder. "Only the thought of what I would do to each of them later kept me sane. I'd pluck out their eyes, rip out the beating heart, suck the marrow from their very bones..." Muraki's voice shook with a volcanic rage that reverberated throughout his entire body. "...break open the pelvis and tear out the cradle of life and devour it whole...because you found them more worthy than me!"
The feline watched, ears flattened, cowering on the hood a safe distance away.
Tsuzuki couldn't breathe - Muraki's arms were so tight they squeezed the air from his lungs - but horror rooted him to the spot. Muraki needed to be humbled. His bloated egotism and pathological sense of entitlement was responsible for ruining many lives. But his crazed anguish left Tsuzuki horrified...and afraid. To want so fiercely only led to misery and madness.
Could Muraki's obsession with him truly be the reason for his unhinged state? If so, he may as well have cursed Muraki by his own hand. Muraki would never succeed in his quest, regardless of his influence with demons or undeniable sexual prowess.
As a shinigami, Tsuzuki knew his place. He was tenured to EnmaDaiOh. That was his penance. That was his fate.
"Welcome to my hell." Muraki breathed the words against Tsuzuki's throat. "To be near and yet so far... But nothing can be gained by repeating the mistakes of the past. Devouring you is not the answer - like the mythical Hydra of Greek legend, physical injury only accelerates your recuperative powers." He laughed bitterly. "He knew this, of course. He knew this all along. Maybe he is laughing at me now. Let him laugh, for I will never give up. I may be nothing but a mere mortal...too pitiful to consort with a God of Death...but I won't let him win!"
Hot wetness trickled down his neck - Tsuzuki couldn't tell if it was saliva, blood...or tears. His back was cleansed of the searing pain; only the tightening itch of healing flesh remained, and Muraki's near-suffocating embrace. Tentatively Tsuzuki touched the moisture. It wasn't thick like blood or sticky like saliva. He brought it to his lips - salty with an acrid aftertaste that burned his tongue.
Tsuzuki's heart sank. In the morning he had suspicions - tonight they were inescapable facts. No ordinary human could shed tears like this.
"Muraki." He awkwardly stroked the silver hair. "I...I'm the one who's unworthy. I'm not worthy of those women, my friends, my shikigami...anyone. All my life I've hurt people. I try to help...but I always screw up." He pulled the package from his pocket and tore it open on the car roof. "But I know this can help you. It's been blessed with the energy of Metal and Wind."
"It's not enough." Muraki's voice was muffled against his shoulder. "Only you can sustain me."
"But it will buy you time." He took out the mesh bracelet. "I can always ask Byakko to re-energise it--"
"A temporary solution at best. Elemental energy is not enough."
"You placed a Metal defensive ward on the buckles of my gloves - I easily counteracted it using a Fire attack fuda. You helped me create a Water attack twice: first in your apartment, then later against Saaga. So already you must be depleted in those two elements at the very least." He rubbed his cheek against Muraki's. "I want to help you, but I can't if you won't listen."
"I am yours. I must feed from you. Only you can nourish me."
Tsuzuki thought furiously - there had to be some way to change his mind. Appeal to his ego...
"Do you want Enma to win so easily?"
Muraki froze. The question hung between them in the silence.
"The real question is, Tsuzuki-san, do you?" Muraki stroked the healing skin with feather-light fingertips, then pulled the shirt down and straightened the material with the attention of a valet dressing his master.
"I was talking about you. You're the one with the grudge, not me." Tsuzuki turned around, the silver bracelet dangling between his fingers. "If you remain this stubborn, you may as well give up now."
Muraki stared at Tsuzuki, then at the bracelet. His gaze was hungry and intent, his cheek and jaw smeared with blood. Beneath his fringe, his false eye began to glow.
Tsuzuki held out the bracelet, "Wear this. It can restore the Metal and Wind energy within you. If not for yourself, then do it for me. Please."
Silently Muraki held out his wrist.
Tsuzuki's heart pounded double time. In the semi-darkness, his trembling fingers fumbled over the clasp - did the saleslady have so much trouble? After what felt like interminable minutes, it fell open. He looped it around Muraki's wrist, guided by the unnatural white light from the false eye.
Lux. Lucifer.
Tsuzuki bit his lip. Just a title, he reminded himself. Titles could be revoked - they weren't fixed in stone. "There. It's done."
Muraki slipped it beneath the cuff of his shirt. "I wear this only because you command it. I am yours." His false eye dimmed. "Why are you sad? As you have said the word, so it is done."
"I'm not sad. I'm glad you're starting to follow my advice."
"But neither are you pleased." Muraki buttoned Tsuzuki's shirt for him. "Your empty smile cannot fool me."
"Never mind about me. Do you feel it working? You should be feeling stronger."
"A little." Muraki fixed Tsuzuki's tie, then used it as a leash to pull him into his arms. "Tell me - for I asked before in all seriousness - do you want Enma to win?"
Tsuzuki bent his head. "I serve EnmaDaiOh. I'm not here to help you defeat him. I have an investigation--"
"Yes, yes. Of course." Muraki removed his glasses and tucked them in his jacket pocket. "So you come to conduct your investigation, and indulge your sexual appetite on the side."
Tsuzuki flushed.
Muraki smiled and nuzzled his nose. "I appreciate your patience with me. There are some uncharitable people who break off relationships after a less-than-fulfilling sexual encounter. Yet you have returned again and again, so willing to give me a second chance, and a third...even a fourth. Fifth if you count this morning--"
"Okay, enough! Don't rub it in."
"I can't help myself," Muraki's tone was indulgent and warm - the anger had receded as quickly as a summer storm. "Being near you is an intoxicating aphrodisiac." He began to unbuckle Tsuzuki's belt.
"What...hey! What are you doing?"
Muraki knelt before him and undid his trousers.
"You have the bracelet now. There's no need to do this!"
"Why not? Your body still desires me, ne?" He pulled down the briefs and brought out Tsuzuki's cock into the cool night air. Gently he nuzzled the crown with his lips. "I wear your bracelet - I am well and truly yours now. Let me do this for you."
A groan escaped Tsuzuki's mouth. His cock swelled to full hardness, all too eager to accept Muraki's invitation. Unencumbered by conscience, it twitched against Muraki's insistently stroking tongue, while the crown nudged the roof of his mouth.
Muraki twisted his head, adjusting the angle of entry. Gently he began to guide Tsuzuki deeper.
Rational protest fled Tsuzuki's mind. He watched his cock disappear between Muraki's lips, the silver head almost flush with his crotch. They were in a public place; there was the danger of someone seeing from the street; Muraki was getting grime and dirt on his trousers...
A million other reasons bombarded his mind at the wrongness of this. But what did it matter, when it felt so good?
When Muraki fucked him, he experienced the helpless vulnerability of being human. When Muraki sucked him off, he revelled in the adoring worship granted to a god.
That mouth that once hurled insults now embraced his entire cock in welcoming warm wetness. The sneering thin lips provided a perfect seal around his shaft. The hands that once clawed his back now cradled his crotch and balls.
It was a dream. Muraki kneeling before him in a dingy alley; the pleasure gifted to him by that talented mouth...it couldn't be happening.
Tsuzuki threw his head back, his lips parted. He clutched the car behind for support while his chest rose and fell with his gasping breaths. He was trapped with his arms resting on the car roof in a crucifix position - but instead of pain, Muraki inflicted pleasure of such intensity Tsuzuki felt he was losing a part of himself. Why had he resisted Muraki for so long? He couldn't remember - only a fool would have turned down something as wonderful as this. From his cock, restlessly twitching within the luxurious confines of Muraki's ravenously sucking mouth, the languor flowed along his nerves to engulf his entire body in its thrall.
The feline leapt up to the car roof and padded to Tsuzuki. It seated itself near his shoulder and peered down to watch Muraki at work.
Soft whimpers escaped from Tsuzuki's throat each time Muraki withdrew his mouth, an inarticulate plea for him to continue. And Muraki obeyed, pausing only to curl his tongue over the crown to catch the precome he sought, then drawing him deeper inside once again as reward. Silken lashes of tongue against the underside, the velvet warmth of inner cheek...the intimate suction filled Tsuzuki with such ecstatic pleasure he wanted to weep at the wonder of it.
Now accustomed to his size, Muraki took more of him in, guiding him over his tongue to the back of his throat. His breath was slow and even, a sigh of warm breath tickling his groin. With his eyes shut, and his throat muscles contracting around the head to milk him of his seed, he seemed blissfully oblivious to Tsuzuki's tortured ecstasy.
Muraki's expression was reverent. There was no other way to describe it. He was not disgusted or ashamed - his uninhibited enthusiasm revealed he found as much pleasure in giving as Tsuzuki did in receiving.
A wave of gratitude and tenderness swept over Tsuzuki. "Muraki..." he breathed. "Muraki...I..."
Muraki shifted the angle of Tsuzuki's cock. His mouth remained firmly around the shaft, his swallowing throat muscles worked without pause. He gazed up at Tsuzuki while he fellated him.
Tsuzuki watched his cock appear and disappear between Muraki's lips. Already flushed with passion, the sight made him red with embarrassment - but not enough to look away.
Muraki's false eye was clearly visible. With its unnatural diameter, it looked eerie - the only flaw marking his patrician features.
Tsuzuki was spellbound. Muraki's gaze imprisoned his own, just as his mouth trapped his willing body with pleasure. There was nothing else in the world that mattered - only the two of them caught up in this intimate communion, feeding, fucking...
Feed me. Nourish me.
Muraki was crazy to think this would help him - a symptom of his desire transforming into delusion.
The false eye flared to life.
Tsuzuki let out a choked cry. Muraki's sucking was faster, more urgent.
Whatever power Muraki wielded, he was still mortal. His energy resources were easily depleted. EnmaDaiOh would crush him with the ease of an elephant squashing an ant. What they did together wouldn't make a difference.
This was between the two of them alone.
Tsuzuki thrust his hips forward each time Muraki withdrew, only to be trapped against the car when Muraki swallowed him down and milked him once more.
The car began to rock. The cat looked up, blinking in surprise.
No insults or cruel laughter passed Muraki's lips - only his cock gliding in and out.
This was how it should be. He was fucking Muraki's talented mouth...and it felt exhilarating. His entire body was taut as a string, vibrating in time to this voluptuous indulgence. His thighs trembled as well - too weak to support his weight, they merely propped him against the car so he didn't make a complete fool of himself by sliding to the ground. The pleasure spiralled through him, lifting him higher and higher.
White light blazed from the false eye. It blinded Tsuzuki with its brilliance.
Come for me...
The world tilted on its axis. For an instant, Tsuzuki was no longer in his own body. Cock and precome filled his mouth. He gulped down the salty-bitter liquid as if his life depended on it, while his knees rested against the hard pavement. White light enveloped him, shining down from above...
A hallucination? A premonition?
Climax tore through his body - bringing him back to reality, only to fling him into oblivion. A kaleidoscope of sensations blasted through him - an explosion that sent shockwaves through his body, a rush of liquid heat melting muscle and bone, searing his mind of reason and thought. No longer a shinigami, he was a being of sensation alone, tossed to and fro in the turbulent waves of orgasm.
Tsuzuki let out a harsh guttural cry. His entire body quivered like a leaf.
Muraki clung to him, gulping everything down, his throat muscles working greedily like a feeding calf. A deep growl rumbled in his chest. He refused to let go when the flow proved too much and liquid spilled from his lips.
The cat rubbed itself against Tsuzuki's cheek and purred loudly.
Tsuzuki opened his eyes. A strip of night sky was visible between the silhouettes of the surrounding buildings. The stars twinkled, whiter and brighter than he had ever seen them before. The sky was a backdrop of deep indigo velvet stretching into the vastness of space...
And he was lounging against the car with his trousers around his knees.
Muraki remained kneeling at Tsuzuki's feet, head bowed. His hands gripped Tsuzuki's thighs so hard his nails left indentations in his flesh.
"Muraki? Are you...are you all right?"
He nodded and knelt back on his haunches, eyes closed. His fingers eased its grip.
The silence unnerved Tsuzuki. "That's...good." He began to pull up his trousers. "We don't have to do this anymore, right? I mean, you got what you wanted--"
"I cheated." Muraki stood up and dusted his trousers off. His expression was grave, his false eye dim. "I did not achieve this by myself. Your bracelet made it possible."
"The bracelet is to give you the energy you're losing from the... from your covenant. It's for you, not me."
Muraki twisted the jewellery around his wrist, then straightened his cuffs. "If I am to succeed or fail, it will be by my own efforts. I won't accept interference--"
"Or assistance, by the sounds of it. You're the most stubborn person I know. You succeeded, idiot!" Tsuzuki flushed when Muraki lifted an eyebrow. "I just - we just...you got what you wanted! And nothing's changed, has it? I'm the same as before - you're as insane as ever. I told you this idea of me feeding you was crazy to begin with!"
"It wasn't crazy - it was very good." Muraki leaned forward to nuzzle Tsuzuki's forehead. "But next time I must do it by my own efforts."
The cat meowed at him and lashed its tail.
Muraki turned. On the main street, a hulking black limousine cruised past them.
"What is it?" Tsuzuki asked. Even with his limited knowledge of cars, he knew it was a prestige vehicle.
"A Toyota Century. The vehicle of choice for government officials...and the yakuza." Muraki combed his hair behind one ear and smiled. "You once offered to use your spell for transportation. May I take you up on that generous offer now?"
Yakuza. The reason Muraki had brandished the gun...
"What have you done now? Are you in trouble?"
"Nothing of the kind." Muraki put his arm around Tsuzuki's waist. "I merely wish to continue our evening in a more intimate setting. We still have many more things to do together, ne?"
Tsuzuki flushed. He knew Muraki was sidestepping the issue, but neither did he want a violent confrontation with gangsters. "Okay. Your cat and car as well?"
"Yes, thank you." Muraki nuzzled his ear. "So much more to kiss...and fondle...and bite...and suck..."
The rest of his words were lost to the wind blowing through the alley, filling the empty space they left behind. It tossed the handful of bloody black feathers along the bitumen until they fell into the filthy gutter.