Thanks to Gengkotsuya for her help. And thanks for all the feedback, both positive and negative. I'm always glad to know people read, and it's an honour to know that the words generate some kind of reaction.
A red and white gingham tablecloth covered one of the outdoor tables beneath the sakura trees. Encased in a perfect dome of golden-brown pastry sat a large apple pie. It was surrounded by a teapot, sugar bowl, milk jug, teacups and saucers for two.
Tsuzuki's mouth began to water - a reflex response to his favourite dish. The knot of tension in his stomach eased a little. "Mmm. It smells like it's just come out of the oven!"
"I baked it this morning." Tatsumi smiled. "We haven't talked lately, and I noticed you haven't been eating as much. I thought this morning tea might rectify both."
"I'd love to have morning tea...but what about the others? Watari will enjoy this, Hisoka too."
"They can join us another time. Neither of them appreciates apple pie the way you do. Take a seat."
Tsuzuki rested his elbows on the table and propped his chin on his hands. He didn't ask if he could help - he already knew how Tatsumi's perfectionist tendencies extended to domestic tasks.
Tatsumi sliced the pie and pour the tea. Sunlight crowned his neat brown hair with red and gold highlights. His hands moved with a quick economy, as focused and disciplined as his sober temperament.
Watching him evoked a bittersweet nostalgia. How many times had they sat together beneath the sakura, Tatsumi serving him tea? This simple ritual had begun during their brief partnership. It formed a tenuous link during the decades of awkward estrangement. Now they had come full circle, and were friends once more. It was as if the bad times had never taken place.
But in Meifu things are different, ne? Nothing dies. Nothing changes. Nothing evolves. Everything is frozen in stasis for eternity...
Tsuzuki shielded his eyes against the sun to see the branches covered in pink blossoms, flowering without end. Entropy slowed to a crawl in Meifu. There was little if any disorder here. The energy required to maintain such stability must be considerable.
"Your pie, Tsuzuki-san."
"Ah, thanks." He ate a mouthful. "Delicious!"
"I'm pleased it meets with your approval."
"You always were talented in the kitchen." Tsuzuki swallowed, and quickly scooped another piece into his mouth. "One day you must teach me the recipe."
"Perhaps. But remember, I charge a very high price for my services."
"I remember! You once charged me ten thousand yen for a juuman noodle soup recipe! At prices that steep, I'm better off grabbing dinner at your place."
"You do that already." Tatsumi took a sip of tea, his expression deadpan. "I deduct the cost of each meal from your salary, of course."
"Aha! That's why I'm too poor to buy my own food! So I end up even more dependent on your hospitality, which only pushes me further into debt." His eyes lit up with a mischievous twinkle. "You'll never get rid of me if you keep this up. I'll eat you out of house and home!"
"Would that be such a terrible thing?" Tatsumi was perfectly serious.
Tsuzuki's fork hovered in mid-air over his pie. "No, not at all. Well, not for me, anyway. You're a great cook, and you know how I love to eat."
"Indeed I do." Tatsumi let out a soft snort of amusement.
"But what I meant was...no one can remain a child forever." Tsuzuki's voice was soft, wistful. "Sooner or later, everyone has to learn to take responsibility for themselves, right?"
Tatsumi didn't say a word. His gaze remained fixed on his cup and saucer.
Tsuzuki looked down at his plate. "If we never do that - if we never take the plunge - then we'll never grow up. We'll end up being mice on a treadmill, repeating the same mistakes over and over...and leaving others to pick up the pieces every time." He scooped up a morsel of pie. "It's not fair to them, is it?"
Tatsumi took a sip of tea. "Such is the nature of a strong friendship. Good friends support each other in times of crisis. They compensate for each other's faults and lift each other's spirits. They wouldn't deserve the title otherwise."
"Yeah...but friendship can also be stretched too far. At some point, self-preservation must take priority." Tsuzuki placed the fork down, and propped his elbows on the table. "An unequal friendship in which one friend is always bailing the other out of trouble cannot last. Why should anyone be expected to stay friends with another person who is only a burden to them?"
Piercing blue eyes narrowed. "Not all people form friendships out of cold-blooded self-interest, Tsuzuki-san."
"I know they don't. A relationship motivated purely by self-interest won't last long either. But self-interest isn't a dirty word. After all, how can you care for others if you end up neglecting yourself? You must be your own best friend before you can be a friend to others--"
Something caught Tsuzuki's spiritual awareness - a disturbing sense they were being watched. He cast a surreptitious look around. The floating petals amid the tree trunks made it difficult for him to spot an eavesdropper.
"Is there something wrong?"
"No. I thought I heard someone calling me."
"Did you?" Tatsumi's surprise appeared genuine. "I didn't hear anything."
"Never mind." Tsuzuki lowered his gaze. "I must have imagined it."
"I'm not surprised. You've been unsettled lately. You aren't your usual carefree and cheerful self. Have you been getting adequate sleep? You once mentioned having disturbing dreams..."
"Hey! You're the one who complains the most about my late arrivals. I can't believe you're worried about my sleep! Keep this up, and everyone will think you're getting soft as Shoukanka secretary."
"I've never cared much for the opinions of others," Tatsumi replied evenly. "Would you prefer not to answer the question?"
The gentle rustle of sakura petals filled the tense silence.
"My sleep is fine, and my dreams unremarkable." Tsuzuki picked up his fork, and deliberately placed a morsel of warm apple pie in his mouth. "How are your nightly kagetsu lessons with Hisoka progressing?"
"Kurosaki-kun is a keen student, but he's frustrated at his progress. With the impatience of youth, he expects to run before he can walk."
"Have you shared your power with him?"
Tatsumi blinked, but quickly recovered himself. "What for? There's no need--"
"Then you should." Tsuzuki's tone was brisk. "Let him experience kagetsu firsthand. Give him a taste of what he could have in the future if he applies himself to his training now. If he has a definite goal to aim for, he will develop motivation to persevere."
"Tsuzuki-san, please remember that you and no one else can be his partner. You were the first to befriend him. Deep down, he cares for you very much." Tatsumi reached for his hand. "Always remember that."
The warm touch radiated kindness and reassurance - a tactile embodiment of Tatsumi's fiercely protective nature.
Tsuzuki looked down at their joined hands. Once he would have moved closer, attracted by the cloaking security of his kagetsu. Now, not a flicker. Not even a lingering reminder of their old affair.
"Thank you, Tatsumi. I couldn't have a better friend than you."
All he felt was benign fondness...and deep inside, a seed of doubt planted by Muraki's cryptic words.
A dark power so impenetrable it could nullify a shikigami's pure energy...
Tsuzuki placed his other hand atop Tatsumi's and turned it palm up. Thick shadows lined the folds and recesses of Tatsumi's palm, but they melted away in the dappled morning sunlight. These were no normal shadows. Imbued with kagetsu power, the shadows around Tatsumi thickened and thinned of their own accord. These subtle shifts in light and shade were easily missed by a casual observer, and Tatsumi knew how to keep them in check - a tribute to his skill as a kagetsu user.
"Tsuzuki-san...what are you...?"
Tsuzuki brought it closer to his face. Once he craved the kagetsu darkness, blindly seeking its comfort like a newborn longing for the womb.
The shadow wisps coalesced to cup his chin, then dissipated like thin smoke.
Cordial, yet reserved. Considerable power held under firm restraint. Tsuzuki couldn't feel it draining his own energy. The dark power that consumed all others within itself - it wasn't here in Tatsumi's hands.
A gust of wind shook the trees. Dappled light danced around them. The shadows cast by the overhead branches came to life. The shadows residing within Tatsumi's palm trembled in sympathy. They began to sway, enlivened by the motion of their larger siblings.
Tsuzuki lifted his head. The kagetsu power was no longer confined to Tatsumi's hand. He could feel the palpable presence of darkness shifting around, stronger than before.
Tatsumi clenched his fingers, and the shadow power retreated with him. His lips compressed in a tight line.
"Sorry." Tsuzuki released him at once. "You always took good care of me, Tatsumi - more care than I deserve."
"No thanks is necessary, Tsuzuki-san," Tatsumi replied gruffly. "It is part of my job as Shoukanka secretary to look after the welfare of all shinigami."
"But not at a cost to your sanity. You weren't secretary when we were partners. No, this is simply the type of person you are - responsible and caring. I know how you endangered yourself to work by my side. You tried to help me when I was down, and nearly drove yourself to a breakdown. All I gave you was suffering and anguish. I knew how it hurt you...but I was too selfish to push you away. When you broke off our partnership, a part of me was happy for you. I knew you were doing the right thing. For once in your life, you put yourself first. That doesn't make you any less of a friend.
"I was the bad friend all along, Tatsumi, not you."
Tatsumi didn't say a word.
Tsuzuki smiled sadly. "And I still am, you know. If you hadn't used your kagetsu powers in the Shion University fire, Hisoka would surely be dead. I wasn't about to call off Touda, even for him. I welcomed Hisoka with open arms. Again, I was too selfish to push him away. In my vanity, I wanted him to share my punishment. I wanted him to join me in the suffocating embrace of death..."
Tatsumi's cup clattered in its saucer. "Tsuzuki-san, why do you keep torturing yourself about the past? These mistakes happen - we all understand. You must focus on the important fact: you and Kurosaki-kun survived the ordeal together! You can become a good friend and partner to Kurosaki-kun if you change your ways. You should be checking on his progress and guiding him as the senior partner...not pursuing a dream that can only lead to disaster!"
Tsuzuki froze, his face pale. "What do you mean by that?"
"Your goose chase in Nagasaki! Are you so blinded by guilt you can't see your foolishness?" Tatsumi leaned closer to speak. "No human could have survived that fire."
"Hisoka told me Muraki was saved by a terrible light--"
"And that gives you hope? Suppose your hypothesis about Muraki being under contract is correct. By this reasoning, the light must therefore originate from the demon who wrote the contract. Tell me this: what would usually happen to a person who failed the terms of a demonic contract?"
"In most cases, the demon takes possession of their soul. But a demon normally provides some form of assistance to the contract holder--"
"And what is the typical outcome for fulfilling the terms of a demonic contract?"
"It depends on the particular contract..." Tsuzuki began.
"But the most common one is possession of one's soul, correct? Ultimately, demons feed on the souls of humans foolish enough to sign a contract. If Muraki was under a contract, then that destructive fire would have brought it to a conclusion one way or the other."
"But it's definitely him! I've seen him with my own eyes! I heard his voice! My spiritual sense tells me he's not an illusion--"
"I'm not saying he's an illusion." Tatsumi looked towards the dojo in the distance. "I notice Kurosaki-kun's curse marks are less visible than before."
"So you saw it too. Has he said anything about it?"
"Not to me. But you know what it means." Tatsumi was remorseless in driving the point home. "The Muraki you once knew is no more."
Tsuzuki's fingers clenched the handle of the teacup until his knuckles went white. His rational mind understood the logic of Tatsumi's words all too well. No human could know about regenerating energy. No human could summon demons with a wave of his hand.
Yet listening to Tatsumi crush his hope with such callous indifference make him ill.
Deep down, a part of him refused to believe. The welter of physical memories couldn't be denied: the thin lips he kissed, the pale skin he caressed and scratched and bit, the cock he welcomed inside him each night...the blood and tears and semen he'd tasted. Compelling evidence of Muraki's humanity...
How could it not be Muraki? Who else could it be?
What demonic power knew how to manufacture a doppelganger convincing enough to trick his spiritual and physical senses?
...and his heart?
"It doesn't matter," Tsuzuki said woodenly. "Whoever he is...whatever he's become...I need to know."
Tatsumi pushed his glasses up his nose. "This double in Nagasaki - tell me what you've learnt about him."
The real reason for the morning tea. So Tsuzuki told him what he knew. Muraki was on holiday in Nagasaki, living alone in his sterile penthouse apartment with a pet cat. He carried no identification or cellphone, but he did carry a pistol. He became wary around black limousines.
"I believe he's in hiding from some criminal figures he's associated with in the past. Perhaps an operation went wrong, and these people want vengeance. I'm still trying to work it out."
"Interesting, but not of relevance to our bureau. What about his occult powers? Has he found new victims to prey on? Is he linked to any recent deaths?"
"No, not that I know. There have been no unusual deaths. From my observations, I believe he's not using his occult powers on any of the citizens of Nagasaki." Which was technically true.
He kept the details about the nature of their encounters to himself. He didn't want Tatsumi's well-meaning interference forcing Muraki into retreat.
"Apart from the firearm, he sounds like a model citizen." Tatsumi lifted a brow. "It sounds too good to be true. Maybe you've missed something in your investigation...or you've allowed yourself to be distracted from your surveillance. Keeping a close eye on a suspect means precisely that. Closer involvement only interferes with one's objectivity."
A guilty flush coloured Tsuzuki's cheeks, but he refused to be shamed. "I've done what's necessary for my investigation. I've been an active shinigami long enough to know how to do my job."
"If that's the case, you wouldn't need me to remind you of your responsibilities. You serve the JuOhCho administration overseen by EnmaDaiOh himself. Do I need to remind you of the consequences of abusing your powers?" He leaned forward, his gaze beseeching. "Whatever you do, you must keep in mind your position in this organisation!"
First Konoe, now Tatsumi pulling the leash. And the memory of Muraki's mocking taunts about his position only chafed the wound.
Go beg at Enma's feet like the dog you are!
"I know where I stand, Tatsumi. How can I forget it?" His tone was heavy with irony. "Haven't I been doing exactly the same job for the past seventy four years?"
Tatsumi blinked. "Are you saying you are unhappy with your position in EnmaCho?"
"Me, unhappy here?" Tsuzuki looked at him for a long brooding moment, then let out a loud laugh. "Of course not. I'm surrounded by friends at work - well, Terazuma excepted. And I have a superior who's a great cook and treats me to delicious morning teas and dinners!"
"Tsuzuki-san..." Concern touched Tatsumi's voice.
"Take a look at how beautiful this place is!" Tsuzuki waved his arm at the scenery around them. "When the sakura flowers fall, new ones always take their place! Nothing dies here, not even a blade of grass! Meifu is an eternal Garden of Eden! What kind of fool would be miserable in such a paradise?"
"A bigger fool than you, I hope."
Tsuzuki simply smiled and went back to eating, oddly relieved by Tatsumi's sardonic tone. It was easier to deal with a rebuke from a cold boss than lukewarm pity from the friend-lover who rejected him so many years ago.
Even a dog had its pride.
A safe distance away, Hisoka watched them from behind the trunk of a sakura tree. He saw Tatsumi indulging Tsuzuki with morning tea. He saw Tsuzuki laugh and lap up the attention. They held hands, their heads close together as they spoke words meant for the other alone. Despite his years as a shinigami, Hisoka had never achieved that kind of comfortable intimacy with them. With anyone.
How relaxed they appeared in each other's company. It seemed rude to interrupt them or intrude with his empathic powers. With the evidence of his normal senses, he already knew enough.
Tsuzuki didn't trust him with his problems. Tsuzuki preferred to leave him in the dark - exactly the same course of action he took in their Kyoto investigation. Their partnership was a sham, as false as Tsuzuki's guise of breezy good cheer.
Hisoka knew something was wrong. Two days ago during morning tea, he'd sensed something strange from Tsuzuki - a powerful yearning hunger that took him by surprise. It wasn't the burst of juvenile glee Tsuzuki displayed when devouring sweets. This emotion was more measured, quickly smothered by oppressive shame.
The "King of Sweets" ashamed of his appetite? It wasn't the Tsuzuki he knew.
But whatever the reason, this emotion had been strong enough to break through the shields Hisoka routinely placed around his empathic powers.
Hisoka didn't understand. He was a powerful empath, but a lousy psychologist. The fluctuating emotional waves of other people baffled him. But he knew Tatsumi, older and wiser and more experienced with Tsuzuki's moods, could make sense of it. Tatsumi knew how to support Tsuzuki in ways he never could.
But where did that leave him as Tsuzuki's eternally-teenaged partner? Would he never be able to give Tsuzuki the emotional support he needed?
An idea snaked into his mind, insistent and insidious. Maybe that's why Tatsumi had been so nice lately - inviting him to dinner, lending him books, even teaching him kagetsu. Giving him special treatment...so he wouldn't be another burden weighing Tsuzuki down...
Hisoka whirled around and strode away, the kagetsu book a lead weight in his arms. He'd done enough study these past few days. He took a path through the sakura trees leading to the dojo. This morning he wanted to wield his katana and practise his swordsmanship skills. If he couldn't help lift Tsuzuki's spirits, then he'd do his best to be less of a liability during their next assignment.
Preoccupied with his thoughts, he did not notice the gust of wind lifting up the petals around him, making the branches tremble and creak. Silent shadows shifted over his downbent head, vainly seeking to catch his attention.
Useless to his family, proud descendants of a samurai clan. Useless here in the afterlife. Everywhere he went, he was useless. He looked down at his pale gangly arms, destined never to develop a man's solid musculature.
Even his body was useless.
Annoyed with himself, he lowered his head against the wind and began to walk faster.
Halfway to the dojo, the air became still. The leaves stopped rustling.
It took Hisoka several seconds to become aware of the eerie silence. Beneath a maple tree, he stopped walking and looked around.
A few yards ahead, a lone man walked through the gardens. Dressed like a samurai warrior, he wore an iridescent armour with heavy shoulder guards and a close-fitting tunic decorated with serpentine scales that changed colour from deep green to blue as it caught the light. His long black hair flowed freely behind his back and over his shoulders, unencumbered by a helmet. But he did not march like a soldier. He walked with a deliberate regal grace, his only companion his elongated shadow trailing behind him.
Everything else was motionless. The air was still. Leaves hung suspended around him. He walked past them, indifferent to the frozen tableau.
Hisoka had never seen him before. Who was he? What kind of power was this?
The man turned his head in Hisoka's direction. Long hair shadowed his upper face, obscuring his eyes.
Quickly Hisoka gave a low bow to show proper respect. Whoever this person was, he was someone of importance in Meifu.
A gust of wind blew leaves into his face. By the time he could see again, he heard the trees rustling around him. The wind tousled his hair and whipped his clothes.
The mysterious man was gone.
The mountains of Gensoukai were Genbu's favourite stamping ground.
None of the other shikigami appreciated his efforts to invigorate the earth. Tenkuu complained that the tremors weakened his foundations. Souryuu reminded him that their virtual world no longer depended on Earth energy - or any other elemental energy. A free-floating world within the vast JuOhCho computer network did not require shikigami intervention for its survival.
But Genbu knew better. Virtual world or not, the soil needed to be nourished to support all the creatures of Gensoukai. Without Earth, there could be no life. As the shikigami governing Earth, he knew he had much work to do.
With the aid of a granite staff, he scuttled up the summit in his human form. His bald head was elongated, with a high forehead covered in wrinkles - signs of his wisdom and experience. Hairy eyebrows drooped over beady black eyes. His grey moustache and beard flowed almost to his feet. At full height, he was half the size of a normal man.
Genbu knew his appearance did not inspire the same awe as that of the younger shikigami. But he had never cared for the trappings of power. The power he wielded had nothing to do with his size. His compact form ensured he caused minimal damage to the precious ground he treaded and enabled him to fit easily into the crevices of the earth while climbing.
The summit rocks were warm from the afternoon sun. Genbu seated himself on the highest one, his hands propped on the staff. Here was peace and quiet, with the lush green forests of Gensoukai spread before him as far as the eye could see.
He sighed to himself. Once upon a time, the Earth looked exactly like this.
He lifted his staff and stabbed the earth once. A small tremor shook the mountain, making him smile. Just like old times...
"Yo, Genbu Ojiisan! I knew I'd find you here! You're not sleeping on the job, are you?"
Byakko swooped over his head, paws outstretched in full flight, white fur shimmering in the sunlight. Tsuzuki clung to his back, waving his arm in greeting.
"Sleeping? Of course not!"
"Thanks, Byakko! I never would have found him without your help!"
Byakko pounced on a nearby rock to let Tsuzuki dismount. "No problem." He shook his head at Genbu. "Souryuu expects you to watch for wormholes, remember? You sure you can see anything behind all that hair?"
"It takes more than sight to see. Wormholes are not the only threat to Gensoukai. The primordial Earth energy must be nourished." Genbu stabbed his staff once more, setting off another small tremor.
Byakko jumped into the air, hissing in annoyance. "Is that all you ever think about?"
"I remember my responsibilities as God of Earth!"
"You think I don't?" Byakko swished his tail vigorously, creating a gust of wind. "As God of Wind and Metal--"
"Okay, okay!" Tsuzuki stepped between them, arms outstretched to keep them apart. "Thank you, Byakko, for bringing me here." He winked. "I'll make sure Genbu doesn't slack off."
"I'll leave it to you, Tsuzuki." With a lash of his tail and a parting gust of wind, Byakko soared away.
Tsuzuki shrugged out of his trenchcoat and laid it on the rocks. He sat beside Genbu. "This is a nice vantage point you have here. Are the wormholes still a problem?"
Genbu stabbed the ground and the earth shook again. "They are increasing in frequency. A few shikigami have been accidentally transported to different dimensions. Souryuu fears they herald the end of this world." He snorted, blowing the hairs of his moustache.
"Ahh, I remember finding one lost in the land of the living. Byakko told me a wormhole was the most likely cause." He glanced at Genbu's wizened features. "You don't think they're a threat to Gensoukai?"
"They are created by human hearts calling out for divine intervention. Our names have been forgotten, but the memory of our deeds remain. Humans call out for us in their dreams, in the recesses of their subconscious. But without our names, without proper respect for our authority, how can we answer them? So their tortured cries only distort this world, creating the wormholes."
"Have you told Souryuu all this?"
"He doesn't believe me. He wants 'evidence.'" Genbu snorted once more. "He has forgotten the many ways prayers manifest themselves to a God. It has been too long for all of us. But I remember. I haven't forgotten. The earth whispers to me constantly - I feel it in my bones." He put down his staff, and tilted his head sideways to look at Tsuzuki. "But this is not the reason for your visit, ne?"
"No," Tsuzuki admitted. He rested his elbows on his knees so he could see Genbu eye to eye. "I've come to seek your advice on a...a confidential matter."
Genbu puffed his chest out, pleased at being consulted. "Ask and I will advise."
"I..." He shook his head and pulled his fingers through his hair. "Where do I start?" He shook his head, chuckling. "Now that I've finally gathered the nerve to come here, I don't know where to start."
"At the beginning," Genbu suggested.
Tsuzuki let out a hysterical laugh. The idea first entered his head when he saw Muraki utilise the regeneration cycle. But it was Tatsumi's morning tea that made him come to this decision.
If Muraki's human soul was lost to a demon, and JuOhCho remained indifferent to his fate...then why should they care what anyone else did with him?
"Okay, okay. The beginning."
Tsuzuki did his best to gather his thoughts...and blurted out the crazy scheme that brought him here:
"I think I know a demon trapped in human form who needs a secure home. Is there any spare room in Gensoukai?"
Genbu's shaggy brows lifted halfway up his forehead. Beneath them, his beady black eyes were alive with interest.
Balanced on a tightrope between hope and despair, Tsuzuki waited.
Genbu picked up his staff. Instead of stabbing the ground, he handed it to Tsuzuki.
"Tenkuu has dungeons ideal for sealing away the most rebellious spirit. Tell me more."
Tsuzuki placed the staff in front of him, holding tight to the serpent head decorating the handle. Taking a deep breath in, he told Genbu about Muraki - their first meeting, the curse he'd put on Hisoka, the events in Kyoto. He explained the dreams, their meetings in Nagasaki - everything. The words tumbled out of him, jumbled and disjointed, fact and guesswork tangled together.
It was safe to tell Genbu. Genbu was one of his shikigami, privy to his shifting emotional state. Oldest of the twelve, he was not hot-tempered or impulsive like the others.
Genbu stroked his beard. If Muraki's ability to use the regeneration cycle surprised him, he did not show it.
"Based on what I've told you, what do you think he is?" Tsuzuki asked at last. "Human or demon?"
"Neither."
"Huh? Are you sure?"
"This Muraki you describe is a chimera. He contains some characteristics of each, and a few that belong to neither." He looked up at Tsuzuki, dark eyes twinkling. "Hence your confusion. A master of twelve shikigami should not doubt his ability to identify spirits. Trust your intuition - your spiritual sense is your best guide."
"So...is it true what he says about an occult type of elemental magic that threatens shikigami?"
"No, not at the moment."
"Not at the moment? So you mean that in the future--"
"It would be irresponsible of me to claim my answer is true for all eternity," Genbu said. "I am the keeper of wisdom, not a tawdry fortune teller. But there is certainly no such magic in existence within Gensoukai."
The qualifier wasn't lost on Tsuzuki. "So you think this magic could be found elsewhere?"
"The energy generated by shikigami falls into four types: Fire, Earth, Metal, Water. These references to another type of elemental magic come from archaic mystical traditions. Western and Hindu cultures named it Aether or Void - the insubstantial power responsible for light and electricity. But that is not true magic. There is no purposeful intent behind such energy. Later humans learnt the science behind it, and the term fell into disrepute."
"Void energy? How can such a thing exist?"
"A contradiction in terms," Genbu agreed. "A void is the absence of energy. A void draws energy into itself and gives nothing in return."
Muraki was like a void - always insatiable, demanding more and more. Wait, that wasn't quite true. Muraki drained himself physically each night in a frenzy of sexual activity. His anguish in the alleyway was genuine. His acrid tears were real.
Do you think me unworthy? Why won't you share?
The truth struck him with painful clarity.
The greedy person who imbibed the most energy, draining the other without reciprocating...the one most like a void...
It was me.
"In Chinese mystical tradition, the origins of the shikigami heritage, the fifth element is Wood. Wood energy is the energy of life. It serves the material world. No shikigami here utilises Wood energy - this is the one energy reserved solely for living entities."
"What about demons?"
Genbu frowned. "Highly unlikely. Demons cannot generate Fire from Wood. The energy regeneration cycle is not available to them - they simply do not have the reserves required." He stroked his chin. "And from what you've told me, it seems he thrives on Metal, not Fire."
"Metal energy alone can't sustain him. He draws on Earth energy to generate Metal energy to heal himself! He knows how to transform energy from one type to another!"
"Hmm. Do you admire his abilities?"
Tsuzuki started. "No. I know the dangers of accelerating entropy. What he's doing is risky to himself and others. It's just...I've never seen anything like it before."
"So he displays his knowledge and abilities like a peacock parading its tail." Genbu gave him a sidelong look. "He seeks your favour."
"My favour? What do you mean?"
"He wants your approval. He wishes to impress you." At Tsuzuki's bemused look, Genbu sighed. "He is courting you, of course."
"Nooo! He's not...I'm not...it's not like that! No one is courting anyone! He just wants energy from me! That's all he's after!"
"This is highly atypical behaviour for a demon hunting for energy. A demon would attack, feed, and move on. Such predators reveal themselves only when cornered. Yet this one is eager to engage you in a relationship of sorts--"
"Hah! You should hear us. We spend half the time yelling at each other."
"Conflict is inevitable if you fail to acknowledge his overtures. Spurning his advances only wounds his pride...and perpetuates a falsehood that is hurtful to you both."
Tsuzuki flushed. "Is...is it that obvious?"
Genbu shrugged. "You seek advice on how to secure within the confines of Gensoukai. You must approve of him to consider such a plan of action."
"I...I don't want him harming more people. I have to end it once and for all."
"Of course." Genbu nodded sagely. "As master, you will teach him obedience. Did you not bring peace by curbing hostilities among the warring shikigami? Did you not bring the destructive Touda to heel? This situation is no different. This Muraki needs to channel his abilities into a constructive purpose. Give him this purpose, and he will be yours." He placed his gnarled hand on Tsuzuki's arm. "The master of twelve divine commanders will have no trouble accomplishing such a task. As Black Warrior, guardian of wisdom, I will assist you."
Tsuzuki smiled, touched by Genbu's confidence. "Thanks, Genbu. I'm going to need it. My main worry is how vulnerable he is to injury. Despite his magical abilities, he doesn't seem to be able to transform himself into a non-corporeal form. Plus I need to figure out his false eye and his ties to the demon world. I don't want him making any trouble in Gensoukai."
Genbu hissed. "Are you insulting us? Nothing can match a God in battle!" He snatched the staff from Tsuzuki, and stabbed the ground. It shuddered violently and cracked open beneath their feet. "Let me see this Muraki. I will assess his abilities for myself."
"Hey!" Tsuzuki clung to a rock to keep himself from tumbling down the mountainside. "Are you serious? I can't just bring him here without preparation!"
"Of course not. You must summon me to the material world so I can examine him. Only then can I guide you further." Genbu stabbed the ground again.
"I know you, Genbu! You're just after an excuse to do more stomping!"
"I am God of Earth. I must energise the soil and make it strong once again. It has become weak in my absence." He glared at Tsuzuki and stabbed the ground twice more for emphasis. "You do not summon me enough."
Stubborn Genbu. The Black Warrior drove a hard bargain for his services.
It took much of Tsuzuki's negotiating skills and patience to convince Genbu not to follow him to the land of the living. At the appropriate time, he would summon Genbu to meet Muraki.
"I want no earthquakes, no volcanic eruptions, no tsunami waves unless I give the word. Promise me you'll be on your best behaviour."
Genbu had stamped his staff and hummed and hawed...and grudgingly agreed.
Sitting on the rooftop of Muraki's apartment block, one leg dangling over the edge, the other propped close his chest, Tsuzuki considered his plans for tonight.
Acknowledge Muraki's advances. Provide him with a purpose. Let Genbu check him out.
Simple enough. So why did he feel so nervous?
He wasn't this edgy when he challenged his shikigami. He understood their frustration trapped in their virtual world, forgotten by humankind. As their master, he knew he had something worthwhile to offer them in return - the opportunity to return to the material world, even for a limited time, and wield their powers once more.
What could he offer Muraki? Muraki's life was once devoted to the most noble of goals: preserving human life. Crushed by his failure, he'd turned his back on his profession to embrace a demonic existence.
All he could offer were fragments of himself...the pieces that weren't tenured to the will of EnmaDaiOh.
Tsuzuki jumped to his feet, nimble grace at odds with his nerves. Somehow he had to convince Muraki to sever the covenant and return to his former life. Confinement in Gensoukai was a meagre alternative to the unfettered freedom of earth. Someone as proud as Muraki would never agree to it.
But if Muraki refused to relinquish his demonic powers...
Tsuzuki pulled his coat around him, his gaze sombre as he watched the setting sun inch closer to the horizon.
...he would be left with no other choice.
This time he avoided his invisibility cloaking spell. He simply materialised inside Muraki's living room without any fanfare or warning.
The cat jumped down from the coffee table and rubbed itself against his legs, purring in greeting.
Sitting on the sofa, Muraki froze. He held his pistol in one hand, a cartridge of ammunition in the other. Scattered on the coffee table were various metal tools and brushes. The tension in his shoulders eased a fraction when he saw Tsuzuki.
"Ahh...I see you're busy."
Without taking his gaze off Tsuzuki, Muraki loaded the cartridge into the firearm with a solid click. He pointed the muzzle at him, unsmiling. "Good evening, Tsuzuki-san."
Tsuzuki didn't move. He had nothing to fear from bullets. "Are you practising your welcome for the Yakuza?"
"A man in my position must always give his personal security highest priority." He lowered the pistol and began packing up his tools.
Muraki was dressed differently tonight. Instead of his customary white suit, he wore a sleek silver-grey suit with lavender shirt and a bold tie in stripes of purple and white. The lean cut of the jacket made him look slimmer, his shoulders less broad. In each earlobe he wore the ruby studs. Much to Tsuzuki's relief, neither of them were bleeding.
"Those clothes look nice on you," Tsuzuki said, more to fill the silence than anything else. Despite the physical intimacy they'd shared, he didn't feel comfortable about something as trivial as taking a seat in Muraki's apartment without invitation.
"Thank you." Muraki didn't look up.
The cat circled his legs in delirious welcome. Tsuzuki reached down and picked it up in his arms. "So how are you?" The cat purred and rubbed itself against his neck.
Muraki reholstered the gun under his jacket. Without saying a word, he took his collection of tools into the bedroom.
Tsuzuki watched his retreating back with a sense of dread. Maybe this was the real Muraki. Now he'd been fed, he no longer needed to play the passionate lover. Everything he'd said and done...a convincing performance, nothing more...
Unconsciously he curled his fingers into the cat's fur. The feline squirmed and clawed his shoulder. Its yowls of protest coalesced into a shrill childlike voice:
"Follow! Follow!"
Stunned, Tsuzuki let it go. It landed on all fours and ran into the bedroom.
"Hey, come back! Did you just say something?" He went after it without thinking, and came face to face with Muraki standing in the doorway, the cat at his heels.
"You must be hearing things." Muraki brushed past him to sit on the sofa again. He lit a cigarette and began to smoke in silence. The cat leapt up to sit beside him.
Tsuzuki hesitated before deciding to sit in one of the nearby armchairs. No point being a polite guest when Muraki behaved like a rude host. "Do you have an engagement tonight?"
Muraki exhaled before removing the cigarette from his lips. "Possibly." He studied Tsuzuki insolently over the curling smoke. "What's it to you?"
Tsuzuki blinked. Genbu advised him to acknowledge Muraki's 'courtship.' Buw how should he deal with Muraki's coldness?
He decided to imitate Muraki's blase example. "Well, I think I'll tag along. Wherever you go, trouble follows."
Muraki smiled thinly. "I never create 'trouble' without orchestrating an exit strategy for myself, so to speak."
"I know. It's not you I'm worried about."
"So that's your reason for coming here. You're nothing more than a sheepdog, watching over Enma's precious flock of human souls. I have no use for a dog. I already have a cat that's troublesome enough."
"What's the alternative?" Tsuzuki snapped. "To be your private 'sealed food' source? Each time you need a refill, we meet up for a quick snack?" He lowered his voice to mimic Muraki's. "'Feed me, Tsuzuki-san, feed me.' That's all I ever hear from you!"
"Then why don't you leave?" Muraki shoved the cigarette down with a single vicious gesture, but at the last minute restrained himself by placing it on the ashtray.
"You're only after me because of my powers. You're like a pathetic baby bird squawking to be fed." Tsuzuki stood up, excited and fearful in equal measure. He knew where this was heading. Their conflicts always led to the same sizzling conclusion. "You're no better than him at all!"
"Get out! Return to your 'master' in Meifu!" Muraki bared his teeth in a ferocious sneer. "Go stagnate in perpetual ignorance! Play the village idiot while everything around you crumbles to dust!"
Tsuzuki walked a few steps away, his back to Muraki. With a casual shrug of his shoulders, he let his trenchcoat fall to the the floor. "I don't take orders from you. I'm not here on Enma's orders either." He turned to give Muraki a sidelong look as he undid his tie and let it slither off. "I'm here of my own free will."
Muraki remained rooted to the sofa, lips parted. His true eye roved over Tsuzuki from head to foot.
Tsuzuki looked away, heart pounding. Muraki's gaze charged the air between them. He could almost feel the weight of his stare caressing him. Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt and let it slide free. With a small toss of his head, he displayed the lean muscles of his shoulders and back for his audience.
"Why, Tsuzuki-san...is this little show of your own free will, too?"
"Muraki..." Tsuzuki slowly turned around, hands clasped loosely in front of him. He tilted his head to one side, a lopsided smile on his lips. "Don't tell me you doubt your own appeal?"
Muraki laughed at that, a derisive sound. "Forgive my scepticism. Your fickle behaviour has left me a little confused, to say the least. You'll have to do much more to convince me of this miraculous change of heart." He crossed his legs and picked up his cigarette once more, then gestured in Tsuzuki's direction. "But for now, please be my guest. How pleasant to watch a striptease without paying upfront for the privilege."
Tsuzuki lifted his chin. He wasn't ashamed. He had nothing to be guilty about, especially not before this man who embraced the demonic. Meeting Muraki's glittering gaze, he unbuckled his belt and yanked it free with a swing of his arm. It clattered as it landed on the glass coffee table.
The cat scrambled up the back of the chair.
Muraki didn't flinch. Smoke curled from his nostrils. One brow arched in sardonic amusement.
Tsuzuki refused to be deterred. Muraki's nonchalance was an act. His avid gaze betrayed his true desire. His legs were crossed - a clumsy attempt to conceal his arousal. Muraki had proven himself a demanding, rapacious lover. Tonight would be no different. Tsuzuki was counting on it.
The thought made him flush, and his genitals tingle in anticipation. He ducked his head and turned away, modesty getting the better of him. With fumbling fingers he undid the fly of his trousers, taking care to ease the zipper over his cock, now swollen beneath his underpants. Shoes were an obstacle - he'd forgotten to remove them. A quick spell made them vanish, along with his socks. That was better. After pushing them over his hips, his trousers slid to his knees and refused to go further. He stepped out of them one leg at a time.
From the sofa, Muraki smoked in silence. In his lap, one of his hands curled into a fist.
For several heartbeats, Tsuzuki waited - hoped - for him to move. His erection pressed against his underpants. Surely Muraki could see the bulge. Even without laying a finger on him, Muraki could affect him like this.
Tsuzuki swallowed, suddenly nervous. Maybe this was a huge mistake. But he couldn't turn back without making an even bigger fool of himself. He bent forward to slide his underpants off and stepped out of them, completely nude.
Muraki sighed deeply. "Rather pedestrian, but not bad for a free show." He stubbed the cigarette out and clapped. "You must include more dance moves and eye contact. Background music would add atmosphere too."
Ultimate humiliation. A slap in the face couldn't hurt more.
"Well, I must go." Muraki stood up and combed his fingers through his hair. "Make sure you pick up your belongings before you leave."
Tsuzuki closed his eyes. He wished the ground would swallow him whole. He wanted to curl up and die.
The cat yowled. It clawed Muraki's hand, drawing blood. "Noooo! Noooo!"
Muraki shoved it roughly away. "Silence."
The cat leapt to the floor. "Cease this!" it hissed.
Dimly Tsuzuki wondered why it was able to talk now, but he didn't ask. His conscious mind was too shellshocked to care.
He's fed from you twice. He doesn't need you now. It's over.
No physical assault hurt this much. His shinigami powers could heal near-fatal injuries. Why couldn't his powers numb the terrible pain of rejection?
As master, you will teach him obedience... The master of twelve divine commanders will have no trouble accomplishing such a task.
Words from Genbu, the black guardian of wisdom.
Master of twelve...
Tsuzuki lifted his head, and clenched his fist. He had done it before. He could do it again.
"Muraki! Come to me!"
"Come to you? You're the dog who blindly obeys orders, not me." He looked over Tsuzuki, lower lip curling. "Although under these circumstances, even that may be too kind. Even a dog would draw the line at using sexual favours to manipulate others. Tonight you've proved yourself to be nothing but Enma's whore!"
"No, dammit! I'm here by choice!" Tsuzuki lunged out to grab his hand. "My choice!"
Living fire. The heat scorched up Tsuzuki's arm, along his shoulder - a white hot inferno blazing into every fibre of his being. His limbs were melting into mush. He couldn't let go even if he wanted to.
Muraki shuddered. He too was afflicted by the same lethargy. Perspiration dewed his forehead. His chest rose and fell with erratic breaths. His mocking sneer became a grimace of desperation. Up close, Muraki's crumbling guise of indifference was transformed into naked suffering - a mirror of Tsuzuki's own tortured emotions.
Wild hope fuelled recklessness. "Don't leave me." Tsuzuki dared to rub his cheek against the back of Muraki's hand, then kiss the palm. "I need you. I can't stop thinking about you."
Trembling fingers seized his jaw. Muraki scanned his features, his gaze wild-eyed, his breath hot against Tsuzuki's cheek. "Good," he growled. "Very good."
Tsuzuki pulled him into a kiss - sucking and licking, even biting when he couldn't get his way. When Muraki retaliated, he shivered and welcomed Muraki deep. The bitter tobacco taste was uniquely Muraki's. How he, a sweet-tooth addict, had come to crave it, he didn't know - another sign of Muraki's formidable power.
Muraki shuddered again. He pulled Tsuzuki against him. His hands moulded Tsuzuki's fragile nape, the angular shoulder blades and graceful curves of his back, down to the muscular curves of his buttocks - a wave of rough silken heat against sensitised skin. He massaged one asscheek, scratching it with his nails, squeezing it possessively over and over until Tsuzuki groaned and arched against him. The abrasive material of the suit chafed his bare skin.
"Take it off..." Tsuzuki loosened the striped tie, scrabbled at the buttons of Muraki's shirt. These barriers incensed him. How could something so flimsy be so difficult to remove? Instead he tore the shirt free from the trousers and slid his hands underneath. Damp flesh twitched and flexed beneath his fingertips. "Are you all right? You're burning up."
"Never...better." Muraki's teeth grazed the side of Tsuzuki's throat. His fingers slid against the opening of Tsuzuki's ass.
"Ahhh." Tsuzuki stiffened in surprise, but his muscles willingly accommodated Muraki's thrusting fingers.
"Is this the reason you're here? Tell me."
Tsuzuki gasped and nodded. In this position, Muraki couldn't reach his prostate, but the shallow thrusts were enough to make his insides twist in anticipation.
He tore at the buckle of Muraki's belt, unzipped the fly. He cupped and stroked the hard bulge over his crotch. The material was wet with precome - an exhilarating discovery. He had the power to bring Muraki to this pitch of excitement. He wormed one hand inside and grasped the shaft, milking it as best he could.
Muraki squeezed his eyes shut. Abruptly he grabbed Tsuzuki's wrists and pulled him across the living room, past the doorway leading to the bedroom. He guided Tsuzuki to stand by a wall near the window, and took a few steps away to face him.
"Muraki, what--"
"Don't touch me. Spread your legs. Keep your back against the wall. Stroke yourself."
Unseen by either man, the cat chose a sunny patch of carpet to lie down and watch.
"But why--"
"Do it." Muraki shrugged out his jacket. "I can't undress when you touch me. You distract me too much."
Bewildered, Tsuzuki obeyed. He placed one hand around his shaft, and the other under his testicles. Slowly he began to stroke himself.
Muraki removed his tie, unbuttoned his shirt. His movements were quick, desperate. He wasn't interested in giving a performance. His hooded gaze was riveted on Tsuzuki's movements.
Tsuzuki flushed. Undressing was one thing, but masturbation something else. He didn't do it often, especially after his death. After all, it never seemed to work. Doing it before Muraki, the most sexually confident person he'd ever known, only compounded his embarrassment. His cock, once erect, now wavered in his grip.
Muraki took off his glasses, brows knitted together in a disapproving frown. After placing them on the coffee table, he took off the rest of his clothing and returned to stand before Tsuzuki. With his arms by his side, his gaze bold and unafraid, he was aggressive male sexuality personified. His pale skin gleamed orange-gold where it was touched by the last rays of the setting sun. The lean perfection of his throat and broad shoulders bore no sign of bite marks, loving or otherwise.
Tsuzuki drank in the sight of him. Every inch of him was beautiful. The scars wrapped around his waist like a snake, the glittering false eye...these flaws were not enough to detract from his beauty.
In his lax hands, Tsuzuki's cock stiffened.
Muraki shook his head and laughed. He pressed Tsuzuki against the wall, arms braced on each side to prevent his escape. "You flatter me, Tsuzuki-san. Let me show you how it's done."
He kissed Tsuzuki hard. He gripped Tsuzuki's cock and milked it with rapid, frenzied strokes. His other hand wound around Tsuzuki's back to tease the cleft of his ass again.
Enveloped in his arms, flesh on flesh...Tsuzuki wanted to sing with the pleasure of it. This was better, far better than anything he could do to himself. His cock swelled, his testicles ached...the heat from Muraki's hand was pooling in his groin, bringing exquisite bliss as it trickled into every tingling nerve-ending. Tsuzuki clutched him close, nails digging into his upper back.
"When you want something...you must grab it. Don't let go. Chase it...hunt it down...do whatever it takes. Like this." He squeezed Tsuzuki's cock again and again, along the shaft up the crown, his thumb rubbing the throbbing head.
"Ohhh...Muraki..."
"This is the first thing...humans learn." Muraki nuzzled his earlobe. "From the moment we are born...we are doomed to die. This simple truth...is insupportable to us. So we claw...and pull...and grasp...for meaning." He put action to words, jerking Tsuzuki's cock over and over, urging it into full arousal. "We wring meaning...from transitory pleasures. We invest meaning...in pain and suffering. Constantly...reaching...for something to make us whole."
"Ahh..." Tsuzuki rested his forehead against Muraki's shoulder. "So good...yes..."
"Humanity's pathetic fate. Grasping...clinging...holding...clenching..."
Tsuzuki wound one leg around Muraki to pull him closer. He arched his hips, grinding their cocks together in a slippery tangle of sweat and precome.
Muraki exhaled sharply. "How you tempt me..." He grabbed Tsuzuki by the hips and hauled him up. "You think I want to be like this?"
Tsuzuki clutched Muraki's shoulders. "What...?"
Muraki pressed close, forcing his back against the wall. A wicked glint lit his good eye.
Tsuzuki trembled and wrapped both legs around him. He knew what was coming.
"I am yours, Tsuzuki-san. And now..."
He lowered Tsuzuki and arched his hips forward, his entire body as taut as an archer's bow. His cock slid against Tsuzuki's cleft, seeking entry.
Tsuzuki gasped. The inexorable force of gravity prevented escape. His muscles twitched around the head of the erection, guiding Muraki home.
"Yes..." Muraki sighed, and impaled him deep. "At last. Yes."
Tsuzuki whimpered and tried to squirm free - useless. The combination of gravity and strong hands prevented his escape. Caught in Muraki's arms, wedged between the wall and the unyielding bulk of Muraki's body, he had no choice but to accept the sizzling jolt of Muraki penetrating him.
He clenched his jaw and curled his nails into the flexing bulk of taut shoulder muscles. It hurt more than he remembered. Tears came to his eyes, but he blinked them away. He knew he could handle this. His shinigami body could endure anything. He focused on relaxing his muscles so he could take in more of the sizeable erection. The shaft stretching him open, burning through him...this was what being human was all about.
Inch by inch, he shivered as Muraki pushed himself deeper. Amazing. Both pleasure and pain were magnified without lubricant. This heat filling him up, making him whole...only Muraki could give him this wonderful experience.
Tsuzuki shivered as his prostate was nudged. "There...just there. Oh."
"I know." With his face buried against Tsuzuki's shoulder, Muraki chuckled. "This is why you're here, ne?" He jerked his hips forward for emphasis. "Not for Enma, but for me!"
The friction fired off a shot of quicksilver sweetness inside Tsuzuki. His cock twitched in automatic response, awakened by the taste of erotic pleasure. Braced against the wall, the muscles across his shoulder blades tightened, but Tsuzuki was too aroused to care.
"Mmm...more."
Muraki muttered something unintelligible. With his nails, he pulled Tsuzuki's buttocks even further apart. "Glutton. You love being fed this way."
"Ahhh." Tsuzuki squeezed him again, milking him steadily, exploiting Muraki's fatal weakness. It was good for him too - each clench accentuated the sparks against his prostate. He caressed his fingers along the scratches he'd inflicted across Muraki's back. "I...I hold on tight...to what I want."
"Mmm. But how well can you hold me?" He lifted Tsuzuki's hips, sliding him up against the wall as he slowly withdrew.
Tsuzuki tightened his legs around Muraki's torso, his heels pressing into tight buttocks. The painful fullness was gone, but so was the exquisite pleasure. His anal muscles clamped around Muraki, urging him back. He gripped Muraki's shoulders like an eagle grasping prey, drawing blood once more.
"I knew it all along." Muraki trembled from head to foot. He buried his lips against the side of Tsuzuki's throat. "You need me. Admit it."
"I...I need you. Don't stop."
Muraki lowered Tsuzuki, slowly impaling him once more. "Better?"
A burst of heated bliss flowed through Tsuzuki, emanating from that special place Muraki knew so well. His muscles flexed once again around Muraki in lusty greeting. "Ahh...again."
"I will. Lift your legs higher so I can fuck you properly."
Tsuzuki pulled Muraki closer to him, both arms clutching his neck. He hitched his knees higher so they were lodged were under Muraki's arms, his heels digging into the small of his back. His body was capable of a nimble gymnastic grace - a vital skill in dodging demon attacks. Now Muraki was going to test his flexibility in an entirely different field.
Tsuzuki couldn't wait. Using the height advantage of his position, he licked the sweat dewing Muraki's forehead. His lips gently brushed over the retracted eyelid of the false eye, guiding it shut. "Is that better?"
Muraki smiled. He answered in the best way possible: a surge of his hips.
Tsuzuki clung to him, gasping softly. This new angle was much better for deeper penetration. He could feel the wet glide of the cock as it slid inside, right up against his prostate. Perfect. A satisfying jolt of ecstasy sent tremors of bone-melting pleasure through him. His muscles quivered, ripple after ripple of nervous delight, rewarding Muraki for his efforts.
Muraki exhaled, shivering from head to foot. His hunger was too great, his willpower too weak. Bracing Tsuzuki against the wall, arms rock-hard with tension, buttocks and calf muscles taut as he supported their combined weight, Muraki pounded into him at a frenetic pace.
Tsuzuki matched him thrust for thrust. He was trapped, pinned down...and he loved it. With his body enclosing Muraki's torso, their damp skin in intimate contact from chest to groin, he was consumed by heat and pleasure and a crazy sense of triumph.
Muraki wouldn't leave him. Muraki needed him too much. He would attack and snarl and snipe, but he always came to him in the end.
This monstrous chimera of the human and demonic...
All mine.
The itch sizzled down his shoulder blades. Tsuzuki hissed and pressed himself against the wall. The friction of cold concrete against his back eased it a little. "My back hurts...ahhh. Muraki..."
Muraki's nails drew blood from Tsuzuki's buttocks. His thrusts became harder, more energetic. Their flesh began to slap from his vigorous movements.
Tsuzuki whimpered softly. He rocked between Muraki's heated bulk and the wall, a willing slave to Muraki's desire. Thrust after thrust pushed the wave of pleasure higher and higher. Nestled between their bodies, his own cock swelled to painful fullness. His back ached and throbbed as it rubbed against the wall.
Muraki's mouth was liquid fire against his throat. "Wait for me." His silken deep voice reverberated throughout Tsuzuki's entire body. "Tsuzuki-san...Tsuzuki...soon you will soar...but not yet."
Presumptuous, but Tsuzuki didn't call him up on it. The combined friction of flesh and concrete left him a gasping, trembling wreck. This wasn't the time to insist on proper formalities.
Muraki thrust deep. "Now!"
Tsuzuki cried out. His entire body ignited into an incandescent flame, glowing with ecstasy within and burning with fire without. His body was shaking, over and over, caught in the grip of physical release.
Muraki stiffened against him, standing on tiptoe, as he too achieved climax.
For several seconds they remained by the wall, gasping for breath. Muraki was the first to move. He slowly eased himself out, and lowered Tsuzuki to the floor. Dazed, Tsuzuki almost stumbled - his legs were as wobbly as a newborn calf. Muraki helped him regain his bearings, then lowered himself to his knees. He gently lapped Tsuzuki's lax genitals until they were clean. When he was finished, he swallowed the flaccid cock into his mouth.
Tsuzuki was too stunned to resist. He couldn't come so soon - it was impossible. He was so tired, so weak.
So wrong.
Under the onslaught of Muraki's zealous attention, his cock became hard once more. That delicious wet suction, that flexible tongue...and the reverent gaze adoring him.
With his hips braced against the wall, legs apart in front of him, Tsuzuki gave up his essence again.
Muraki knelt on his haunches at Tsuzuki's feet, chest heaving as he caught his breath. "Mine," he whispered. His false eye began to glow.
Tsuzuki was speechless. Trembling against the wall, head thrown back, knees barely able to hold himself up, he couldn't hide from the truth any longer. Muraki's mastery of his body was complete.
Seated in his sitting room, Hakushaku paused in the act of sipping his tea.
The candleholder he'd placed on a nearby table erupted into violet fire. Embers caught on the curtains of a nearby window, setting them aflame. The rug began to smoulder. A bouquet of roses crackled and burned on a nearby table.
For a moment, Hakushaku thought about pouring his tea over the flames. But it was such a fine brew, and Watson made it especially for him. The last thing he wanted to do was give his loyal manservant unnecessary work.
He took a sip, then rang a bell. "Watson? Please bring the fire extinguisher."
Watson staggered into the room dressed in a red helmet, yellow overalls and black boots. On his back was a metal cylinder double the size of his puny body. "Yes, Hakushaku-sama!" He took aim at the source of the mini-inferno.
"No! Not the candle, Watson! Everything but the candle!"
"Yes, Hakushaku-sama!"
A torrent of water sent the vase of roses crashing against a wall. Another blast drenched the curtains, dislodged the curtain rod and sent the entire curtain tumbling to the floor. The rug received the final dousing spray.
By the time Watson was done, the flare-up was over. A single violet flame stood straight and tall in the candleholder, burning brighter than before.
"Good work, Watson. A shame about the mess."
"I will clean it up at once, Hakushaku-sama." Watson bowed, overbalanced, and fell flat on his face.
The door to the sitting room suddenly swung open. No one stood in the doorway. All Watson could see was the dark elongated shadow of a single man.
"Why...how unexpected!" Hakushaku clasped his gloved hands together. "But certainly not unwelcome. You should have given me notice of your visit."
"The same 'notice' you gave the guards last night?" The voice was soft, rasping with a distinct sibilance. It reminded Watson of the sound of leaves rustling in a strong wind.
Hakushaku laughed. "Watson, leave the clean-up for later. We have a most important guest to entertain tonight."