Thanks, as always, to Gengkotsuya for her assistance. Thanks as well to the readers who've taken the time to leave encouraging feedback.

Suzaku, the Guardian of the South, was waiting. Resplendent in her brilliant red cheongsam trimmed with gold thread, she waited by the watchtower overlooking the South Gate of Tenkuu Palace. Each time Tsuzuki summoned one of them to the land of the living, she would go to her little tower above the gate to wait.

Of all the shikigami who resided within Tenkuu's walls, none longed to be summoned as much as Suzaku.

Being exiled from the land of the living had hit her the hardest. As the Red Bird, she had to curb her powers the most. Gensoukai was meant to be a paradise of order and harmony. Such a virtual Garden of Eden had no use for the incendiary vandalism of Fire.

So she waited to be summoned every hour, every day. She waited with folded wings that ached with the memory of scorching flight. She waited dressed in beautiful gowns, with her long hair elaborately made up in a mixture of braids and extravagant fringes. Always waiting.

Tsuzuki would summon her soon. Perhaps it would be with a traditional prayer that brought glory to her name. Perhaps it would be an inchoate scream of pure anguish so terrible it would weaken the barrier between Gensoukai and the land of the living, enabling her and the other major shikigami to descend en masse and wreak the vengeance the world so richly deserved.

Either way, it mattered little to Suzaku. Shikigami love was not like human love. It was not dependent on flimsy variables such as character or behaviour or physical form. It was fixed, unyielding, eternal.

Which was why she never forgave Touda for nearly incinerating Tsuzuki in Kyoto. Foolish Touda. Touda did not understand what Tsuzuki was to them. But most of the minor shikigami had no idea.

Tsuzuki was not just a master, an occasional visitor, a supplicant who sought favours when it suited him.

He was kin.

At the South Gate entrance, the morning air shimmered and glowed. A dark mass appeared, gathering mass and form. The odour of dank soil and acrid sulphur filled the air.

Suzaku inhaled deeply. For all its virtual perfection, the scents of Gensoukai were a pallid imitation to the rich smells of the real world.

Genbu's basalt carapace and scales glistened in the morning sunlight. He arched his long neck into a courtly bow. "Good day to you, Sister of the South."

"Good day to you, Venerable Lord of the North." The ritual greeting came easily to her lips yet her eyes glittered with envy, for she knew Genbu had been Tsuzuki's favourite of late. "What a rare pleasure to see you in your battle armour."

"Thank you. It has been too long." Genbu lifted his craggy horned head to see her properly, and his scales clinked with his movements. "I bring great news."

"What news?"

Genbu bared his teeth in a smile. "We, the guardians of the four compass points, must make way for a fifth."

"Fifth?" Suzaku leaned forward. "Do you mean-"

Genbu nodded. "The Jade Hare's overtures have been favorably received. The Guardian of the Centre - the alpha and omega, the beginning and the end - is stirring once more. Soon he shall return to dance among us again."

Suzaku leapt from the watchtower and transformed herself into her true form. Flapping her vermillion wings, she swooped across the sky to spread the news far and wide in glorious song.

Hisoka wasn't at his desk. His denim jacket hung on the back of his chair.

Tsuzuki noticed the empty in-tray and the computer on standby. This was only a temporary reprieve - Hisoka would be back soon enough.

And he still had no idea how to explain everything. How could he tell Hisoka that he was responsible for creating the Muraki who had cursed and raped him? How could he explain the twisted symbiotic relationship he had shared with Muraki for the past five nights?

What, if anything, could be gained by bringing to light such horrible truths?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Tsuzuki went to his own desk. He rummaged through the drawers for a spare pair of black leather gloves. A flimsy barrier, but better than nothing. He couldn't risk unleashing his Wood powers on a rash whim.

As for handling Hisoka, he would revert to his modus operandi: grovel and apologise, and hope Hisoka could find it in his heart to forgive, if not understand.

The office door slid open. Gushoshin Younger swept in, feathered arms flapping wildly. "Tsuzuki-san! Tsuzuki-san! I tried to look up those things for you: a demon that uses light, any history of insurgency under Duke Ashitarote-"

"I remember." These were the questions he had asked yesterday. It felt like a lifetime ago - a lifetime in which all the wrongs in all the worlds could be blamed on demonic interference. "Did you find anything?"

"No, because my database access was terminated! What am I to do? How can I be a librarian without access to the JuOhCho network?" He hovered before Tsuzuki's face in mid-air, a finger pointed squarely at his forehead. "This is all your fault, Tsuzuki-san!"

"Huh? How were you terminated? You've got a high security clearance, right? And you know your way around the various firewalls-"

"Of course I do!" Gushoshin Younger bobbed up and down, flapping even harder. "But I opened this old file that seemed relevant - and my screen went black! I lost access to the network! My hard drive has been wiped clean! All the work I've been doing on the demon database is gone! And it's all your fault-"

Tsuzuki held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "All right! Calm down a minute, will you? What happened again? You opened some file-"

"Yes!" Gushoshin stopped flapping. "The file must have been booby-trapped in some way...but why? Why would the Akasha supercomputer do such a thing?"

Tsuzuki closed the office door. "What file was it?"

Gushoshin looked around nervously, then perched himself on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "I found nothing about a demon radiating light, but there are records of a failed revolt against Ashitarote centuries ago," he muttered. "It was led by a demon that claimed mastery over Wind."

"A Wind demon? But no demon today uses Wind!"

Gushoshin nodded. "After the revolt was crushed, there is not a single reference to a Wind demon in our records."

So there had been in-fighting, perhaps an all-out war. Fire versus Wind - the complementary manifestation of elemental Metal. And somehow Fire had prevailed.

"So what's this demon's name?"

"That's what I was looking for when I opened that damn file! The name was never written in any of the records! The records refer to him as a dragon who answers those who call on him."

Tsuzuki frowned. "Sounds more like a shikigami than a demon..."

The door slid open, startling them both. Gushoshin Elder hovered in the doorway.

"What are you both doing? Younger Brother, you were told to bring Tsuzuki to the conference room! There's a new assignment in Second Block."

"Ah, yes! I was just about to tell him!" Gushoshin Younger lowered his voice for Tsuzuki's ears alone. "Tread carefully when you go in there. The Chief is in a bad mood, and Hisoka-san and Tatsumi-san don't look too happy either."

There were certain advantages in being late. No obligation to make small talk. No awkward silences while you waited for proceedings to get underway.

At the head of the table, Chief Konoe stared down at him like a judge ready to pass sentence. Seated on the left, Tatsumi gave him the briefest of nods. On his right, Hisoka didn't glance his way.

Tsuzuki quickly slunk into a chair at the far end of the table, the side nearest to the projector screen. As long as he kept his gaze on the slide presentation, he wouldn't be inflicting the sight of his face on anyone.

"Dim the lights, Gushoshin Elder," Konoe snapped. "Gushoshin Younger, distribute the background dossier. Now that everyone is finally present, please begin, Tatsumi."

A colour slide flashed on the screen.

Gushoshin Younger floated over to Tsuzuki. "Your case notes, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki didn't hear him.

Up on the screen, their faces magnified for everyone in the room to see, were three people. One was a man in his sixties with grey streaks in his hair, the other was a woman of similar age. Between them was a young woman in her late teens. With beaming faces, they posed proudly outside their family business - a ramen restaurant.

It was Norata-san and his family.

But why were they of interest to Meifu? Unless EnmaCho already knew about their connection to Muraki...

"We have received orders to investigate a case involving an irregularity in the Kiseki. These three individuals in the Nagasaki area have failed to die as expected, leading to a delay in the JuOhCho court proceedings. Kurosaki-kun and Tsuzuki-san, your task will be to find them and ensure their souls are summoned to Meifu for judgement."

The sky was clouded over by the time Tsuzuki and Hisoka materialised in Nagasaki's Shianbashi district. The air was humid and stifling. Cicadas droned in the distance.

Hisoka studied the map he held in front of him. "It must be down this alleyway."

Tsuzuki let him lead the way.

It was the first time Hisoka had spoken to him after their briefing. No greeting, not even a nod to say hello. In all likelihood, Hisoka would only speak to him when absolutely necessary.

Hisoka knew how to bottle up his feelings, but he wasn't very good at hiding them. He hadn't yet learned how to put on a guise of calm composure and talk about anything other than the one thing that was eating him up inside. Involuntarily he gave himself away in a myriad of little signs: his white-knuckled grip over the map, his lowered gaze that refused to look Tsuzuki's way, the ramrod straight back, the hunched tension in his narrow shoulders.

They couldn't work together like this, and Chief Konoe knew it. His stern unyielding gaze had said it all. The leash was being tightened to teach him a lesson.

Sending them out on this particular assignment was an ingenious form of punishment. The sordid truth of his liaisons with Muraki would be revealed. Most likely he'd have to confront Muraki himself - and after their last encounter, Muraki wanted nothing to do with him. Three innocent people would have to die. And when it was all over, Hisoka would want nothing to do with him either.

It was brilliant, really. The faceless bureaucrats of Enmacho couldn't have devised a more exquisitely humiliating sentence for him.

So, like a man being escorted to the firing squad, Tsuzuki walked behind Hisoka. Through the maze of alleyways they went, sidestepping the motorbikes and delivery trucks that rumbled by, past kitchens with clattering pots and pachinko parlours with rattling metal balls, until they came to a modest little restaurant crammed between a convenience store and a run-down bar.

The curtains were drawn, the doors shut.

Tsuzuki slowly let out the breath he'd been holding. A temporary stay of execution.

"Shianbashi comes to life at night," he explained, "so many businesses here only open up in the evenings. We might have better luck if we come back later..." Tsuzuki's voice faded off.

There was a definite spiritual presence in the air. He could feel it around him - weak at first, then gradually increasing in strength. It was sinking lower, close to the ground.

Unaware of Tsuzuki's distraction, Hisoka went up to the door. "According to the sign here, it should be open for business." He noticed a piece of wrinkled paper stuck to the door. "Closed due to family illness. Apologies for any inconvenience."

From behind a garbage bin, Muraki's large grey cat poked its head out.

"He needs you," it mewed. "His mind is in turmoil. He is in danger of losing his way."

Tsuzuki froze. "What?"

Hisoka turned around, looking at him for the first time. "The place is shut because someone's ill," he repeated patiently. "What should we do?"

"Go to him." The cat prowled towards Tsuzuki, tail high in the air. "He needs you. He needs the refuge of your wings." It rubbed itself against his legs. "He needs the guidance of the Light!"

Nervously Tsuzuki looked from Hisoka to the cat, and back again. "Can you hear...anything unusual?"

"Glory be to the Light!" the cat cried. "All hail its immeasurable brilliance!"

"Like what?" Hisoka asked impatiently. "A yowling cat on heat?"

An old man came out of the bar next door. Bleary-eyed and dishevelled, he lurched over to the restaurant door. "Is it still shut?" he asked them. "Shit."

Hisoka wrinkled his nose at the stench of stale beer, and stepped aside. "Are you a regular customer?"

"Yeah, I come here all the time. Norata's tonkatsu ramen is a great hangover cure." He squinted through the glass. "But the place has been shut for two days now. Poor girl. She must be doing pretty bad."

"You mean Norata-san's daughter?" Tsuzuki asked.

"Yeah. She came down with this big fever and they took her straight to hospital."

"Which one?"

"No idea. But she's always been the sickly type - heart trouble or something. Bloody miracle she's made it this far." The man shrugged. "Well, that's life for you. Only the good die young, huh?"

Hisoka's green gaze flashed. "While the wicked and corrupt live to a ripe old age?"

The man blinked, then burst out laughing. "Hey, it's not my fault I'm still standing after all these years!"

"Let's go, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said gently.

Hisoka strode right past him, chestnut head bent, cheeks flushed with anger.

"He is with them," the cat mewed. "Go to him. He needs you. He needs the nourishing Light!"

Tsuzuki stepped away from the cat. Muraki needed his power, that was all. Muraki didn't care about him or his needs. Judging by their last encounter, Muraki would be pleased to see the back of him...unless he needed to feed again.

But with the Norata family involved, an ugly confrontation was inevitable.

Ignoring the ache between his shoulder blades, Tsuzuki hastily thanked the old man then hurried after his partner.

"Hang on, Hisoka! Wait up!"

Hisoka slowed his pace, but refused to turn around.

Tsuzuki reached his side. "There's only so many hospitals in Nagasaki. It won't take too long to find them."

Hisoka didn't speak. Within the pockets of his jacket, his hands clenched into fists.

"That old guy had no idea who we were. It was just a careless remark. You mustn't take it personally."

Hisoka whirled on him. "Should I follow your example then? Put on a goofy smile and act as if everything's fine, when all along you've been investigating him without me?" He couldn't bring himself to speak the detested name aloud - but they both knew there was only one person who could fill Hisoka with such active hatred. "Well, forgive me for not being as good an actor as you!"

Tsuzuki flinched as if he'd been struck. "I guess I deserve that. So how long have you known?"

Hisoka's accusing gaze spared him no quarter. "I suspected something was up ever since that morning tea when you brought in the sweets. Watari revealed the truth when I confronted him last night. So how long were you going to keep me in the dark?"

Tsuzuki hung his head. It was easier to look at Hisoka's scuffed sneakers than meet his eyes. "All I wanted to do was protect you from his influence-"

"Protect me? So you told Watari instead. Tatsumi never said anything, but it wouldn't surprise me if you told him as well. Which means the only person who was left out of the loop - the only person so weak he had to be 'protected' from the truth - was me." Hisoka's voice wavered a little, betraying the effort it took to keep himself under control. "If you thought I was so useless, you should've just asked for a new partner."

It was getting worse and worse. "I never said you were useless-"

"You didn't have to. Your actions speak louder than words." Hisoka's voice was quiet, yet brutal.

"I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry." The words seemed woefully inadequate.

Hisoka must have thought so too, for he continued speaking regardless. "I never asked to be protected! I don't want to be treated different from everyone else because I'm younger or shorter or whatever!" He turned away and shook his head, embarrassed at how needy and desperate he sounded. "All I ever wanted was for you to be upfront and honest with me, instead of hiding your true self behind a grinning mask!"

The words, an eerie echo of Muraki's own, startled Tsuzuki out of his shame.

You are the lord and owner of many faces, and like a miser you jealously guard each and every one.

"My true self," he repeated in a low voice. "I'm not sure who that is anymore. And even if I did, I don't think you'd want to know him."

"Oh yeah?" Hisoka lifted his jaw in defiance. "Try me."

A sea breeze drifted through the alley. It ruffled the strands of Hisoka's feathery chestnut hair and made his T-shirt cling against his slim torso, emphasising his youthful physique. Yet the unspoken challenge in his fierce green eyes hinted at something entirely different - a proud and stubborn spirit, fearless to the point of reckless abandon.

There was a bewitching appeal about strength of will married to physical vulnerability. Too bewitching. Deep down, Tsuzuki longed to subdue it, tame it...

Break it.

Wariness crept into Hisoka's gaze, yet he calmly stood his ground, waiting...

Waiting to be led like a lamb to the slaughter.

Tsuzuki looked away first. His throat was dry, his heart pounding. His shoulder blades itched.

"I need a cold drink. Let's sit down in a teahouse, and I'll fill you in."

If Hisoka sensed something amiss, he chose to keep it to himself. "All right."

Tatsumi sat at his desk. His accounts ledger was open in front of him. Figures written neatly in red ink lined the columns - debts dutifully carried over from the month before.

But for once, it didn't matter. The Shoukanka could sink in a sea of red there and then, and he wouldn't have cared less.

His hand froze, the ballpoint pen less than an inch from the page. The shadow of his hand wavered underneath.

He put down his pen, removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Control. He needed control. Without control, his kagetsu powers would cause nothing but chaos.

But he'd been holding himself in check for so long. Too long. How long was he expected to watch and wait?

A knock at the door roused him to the present. It was Konoe, muttering about budget cuts and the shortage of stationery supplies. To prevent further misuse and waste, all supplies were kept in a locked cupboard. Naturally, only one person in the department could be trusted with the key.

"I need the key to the stationery cupboard. I need a new stapler. My old one is jammed."

Tatsumi retrieved his glasses. "Since you're in the office next door, you can come over here and use my stapler, Chief."

With a sigh, Chief Konoe trudged inside with his stack of documents. He'd expected to be turned down. He took the proffered stapler, then stopped short.

"I know you're unhappy about this assignment. Unfortunately, orders are orders - and these are from the top."

"I'm well aware of it." Tatsumi carefully pushed his glasses up his nose. "Did I raise any objection at the time?"

Konoe ignored the defensive question. "You're concerned about them, aren't you?"

"As secretary of the Shoukanka, the welfare of all employees in this department is my highest priority-"

Konoe's craggy features softened. "You don't fool anyone, least of all me. You worry about us all." He stapled his sheaf of papers with a distinct snap and handed the stapler back. "Some more than others."

The old man didn't miss a thing.

"It's not my intention to play favourites." Tatsumi picked up his pen. "If you believe I have been too lenient with certain members of staff, then please feel free to inform me."

Konoe went to the window. Standing with his back to Tatsumi, he gazed out at the rows of sakura trees shedding their pink blossoms. "I'm not speaking of Tsuzuki. You dote on him, naturally enough. Nearly everyone does. Mind you, he has no idea of the effect he has on us...which is just as well, in any case." Konoe cleared his throat. "No, I speak of the boy."

Tatsumi's hand froze. "He approached me for assistance. He was upset about his inability to sense Tsuzuki's emotions, and feared his empathic abilities were detrimental to their partnership. Under the circumstances, I felt it was my duty to bolster his confidence-"

Konoe turned around, arms folded. "By teaching him a little kagetsu magic? Were you given dispensation to bequeath your abilities to him?"

"I taught him nothing of significance," Tatsumi replied stiffly. "Merely a simple mental technique to limit his vulnerability to strong emotions, that's all."

Konoe sighed. "I can't believe I must give you the same warning I gave Tsuzuki. Your kagetsu powers have been granted to you by EnmaDaiOh for a specific purpose - to watch over Tsuzuki and keep his powers in check when necessary. Your failure to protect EnmaCho when Tsuzuki lost his mind during the Kyoto case has already been recorded against you. You cannot afford another black mark to your name. Sharing your powers with another without gaining the proper authorisation is asking for trouble!"

"I know, Chief. But it's a risk I'm willing to take for Kurosaki-kun's sake. I don't want him to make the same mistakes I made when I was Tsuzuki-san's partner."

"Hmph." Konoe's expression was sceptical.

Tatsumi began writing in his ledger. No doubt Konoe could see right through him.

In so many ways, Kurosaki-kun reminded him of himself: proud and determined, fiercely independent, reluctant to admit to weakness of any kind...and driven by deep-seated insecurity. Someone had to give Kurosaki-kun the encouragement and approval he subconsciously craved. Someone who understood him well.

Miffed by Tatsumi's silence, Konoe decided to retreat. "Very well, then," he muttered. "But remember your position within the organisation. Your guidance to Kurosaki-kun, although well-intended, is contingent upon you holding down your current post. If I were you, I would be paying more attention to my official responsibilities."

Tatsumi did not look up. Nevertheless, once Konoe had left, Tatsumi's shadows gathered around him, quivering in restless agitation.

In a small booth of an air-conditioned teahouse, Tsuzuki and Hisoka were drinking iced tea. With coat removed and tie loosened, Tsuzuki had downed two glasses of sweet apple tea, and was halfway through a third. In contrast, Hisoka was taking slow sips from his one and only glass of unsweetened green tea. He was in no hurry, for as far as he was concerned, Tsuzuki was the one who owed him a lengthy explanation.

Tsuzuki knew it too. So he had obliged up to a point. He explained his suspicions about Muraki's false eye being part of a contract, and their chance meeting in Nagasaki with Norata-san. He described Muraki's flourishing Metal powers, and his worsening anaemic pallor. He did his best to stick to the hypotheses and facts, while avoiding the subjective and personal.

What he did with Muraki was no one else's business.

"Is that why you asked Watari to test Muraki's hair samples for minerals?"

"Yes, and the lab results confirm it." Tsuzuki took a long swallow of his drink. "Somehow Muraki is cannabilising his mineral stores to generate elemental Metal power. It's as if...as if he's got the ability to convert the matter in Metal into pure energy."

Across the table, Hisoka was leaning his jaw in one upraised hand. "So in the end he'll die of mineral deficiency. He can then be judged by the JuOhCho courts, and all his victims will get the justice we've been waiting for. Isn't that a good outcome for everyone?"

Tsuzuki blinked. He wasn't expecting such indifference. "Err...you do have a point. But with his growing power, he's capable of causing even more chaos and destruction in the meantime. The authorities in the land of the living have no idea how to deal with him. We have a responsibility to stop him now, not sit around and wait for him to die."

Hisoka paused in mid-sip. "We?" he repeated dryly. "I don't remember being a part of this investigation."

"I was going to tell you - honest! But I needed to gather enough evidence to show the Chief - to convince him to reopen the case." He noticed Hisoka's sceptical look. "He didn't approve of what I was up to - he gave me veiled threats to stop. Tatsumi too."

Hisoka lowered his gaze. "So Tatsumi-san knew all along." With his straw, he jabbed at the ice in his glass.

"He had an idea, yeah. But I haven't told them everything I've uncovered yet." Tsuzuki cast an uncertain glance at him, then returned to his almost-empty glass. The heat within him had eased somewhat, but his shoulder blades still tingled and burned. "I'm sure he only kept quiet about it to protect you."

Hisoka crushed the straw in his fingers. "I already said I don't want to be protected by him or you or anyone! Why do all of you...keep..." The anger simmering inside him bubbled to the surface once more, choking his speech. "...keep treating me like a child?"

Tsuzuki resisted the instinctive urge to apologise again. Appeasement would only serve to inflame Hisoka further. He straightened in his seat, ignoring the way it stretched the sensitive skin over his upper back. "That's untrue. If we honestly thought you were a child, I wouldn't have taught you how to make your own fuda charms, Chief Konoe wouldn't have taught you how to create spiritual barriers...and I doubt Tatsumi would've trained you in the shadow arts either."

Hisoka's green eyes glinted with annoyance, but his temper did ease a fraction. "But I'm not an equal, am I? I'll never be on the same level as the rest of you."

"You haven't been a shinigami as long as the rest of us, so naturally you lack the same experience. But that doesn't mean we think any less of you." Tsuzuki tilted his head to one side. "Why does the idea of us protecting you from harm disturb you so much?"

Hisoka pulled up the sleeve of his denim jacket to reveal his forearm. "Where were you all when I was cursed by that bastard? Where were you when he assaulted me?"

Tsuzuki dropped his gaze. It was a question he had often wondered himself.

"No one was there. No one cared." Hisoka shrugged. "But that's been the story of my life. The one thing I've learnt is that it's up to me to look after myself. I don't want or need the false promise of anyone's protection, no matter how well-intended."

Tsuzuki inwardly flinched at the barb. Hisoka had thrown the same accusation at him during the case involving the violinist Hijiri. He'd tried to allay Hijiri's anxiety with cheery reassurances, yet Hisoka had pointedly refused to do the same. And he'd been right, of course.

But there was something particularly galling about being caught out four years later.

Seated in the same booth, they may as well have been sitting on opposite sides of a canyon, such was the yawning gulf of distrust between them. The five years together as partners, five years in which he'd patiently tried to win over Hisoka's trust and confidence - all for nothing. In spite of being master to so many shikigami, in spite of the power he held - both innate and acquired - there was nothing he could do or say to change Hisoka's mind.

So he didn't try. Instead he studied Hisoka's arm, and the faint red script that was visible to those with the spiritual awareness to detect it. "They seem less obvious than before, huh?"

"They come and go. When Muraki is near, they glow bright red. Then come the dreams." Sudden realisation made Hisoka sit up. "But I haven't experienced any of the signs this time around. I had no idea he was back until I saw those hair samples!"

"Good, for you've suffered enough already thanks to him." Tsuzuki finished the rest of his drink. "It's a sign that his ability to influence you through the curse is waning."

"You think?" Hisoka pulled up the sleeve of his other arm, more bemused than pleased with what he saw. After carrying them for so long, he wasn't ready to embrace Tsuzuki's optimism.

Tsuzuki slid the empty glass to one side. "I know," he replied quietly.

"But that doesn't make sense! How could his curse on me be waning when he's gained Metal power?"

"Elemental energy isn't used for curses," Tsuzuki explained. "Curses drain spiritual energy from the bearer, making them vulnerable to malicious influence. If anything, a curse is a manifestation of the spellcaster's pathological craving for the energy he lacks." He rolled his shoulders to ease the remaining niggle between his shoulder blades. "But Muraki doesn't need to curse people or draw on power from human souls anymore."

"So what does he need? If he's mineral deficient, then he needs a source of organic metal to stay alive. Something he can easily ingest and metabolise..." An idea came to mind. "Of course! Blood! That's how the original vampire legend started in the first place!"

Tsuzuki nodded slowly, doing his best to keep his features bland. "Good thinking. Blood is certainly rich in iron." Best to let Hisoka cling to that theory than consider other bodily fluids. It was close enough to the truth in any case.

"Is that how the Norata family is involved? Like you said, he knows them well, right?" Hisoka leaned forward, thinking hard. "Maybe he's keeping them alive and using them as a source of blood...which could explain why they didn't show up for judgement as expected."

It couldn't be. Muraki had been feeding from him the whole time. Why drain the blood of others? Why go to anyone else for nourishment? Muraki had been so needy, and persistent...and all too persuasive...

I am yours. I must feed from you. Only you can nourish me.

Or perhaps he'd been the biggest fool of all to be duped by Muraki's seductive lies.

A sharp clatter snapped him out of his musings. A waitress was removing his empty glasses.

Hisoka watched him quietly across the table. The sober gravity of his features made him look mature beyond his years.

"In that case..." Tsuzuki did his best to pull himself together. "...we need to check on Muraki's other patients in Nagasaki. He might be using the goodwill he's earned as their surgeon to secretly drain them of their blood. Plus we must find the Norata family and discover what's wrong with their daughter." He managed a bright smile. "Why don't I look through the hospitals, and you get in touch with the Gushoshin about Muraki's patients?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. I'm coming with you."

"Are you sure? I know you're uneasy about visiting hospitals because you can sense the suffering of patients-"

Hisoka flushed in embarrassed anger. "But I think I've got it under control now! Tatsumi-san's been teaching me how to cloak my empathic abilities with kagetsu magic and-"

"Tsuzuki-san! Hisoka-san!" Gushoshin Elder materialised in the air next to Hisoka. "We've been looking for you two."

"That's right!" Right on cue, Gushoshin Younger materialised beside Tsuzuki. "We're going to tag along on your assignment!"

"You are?" Relieved as he was by their interruption, Tsuzuki wasn't exactly thrilled by their news. "What for?"

Elder huffed and folded his feathered arms. "Tatsumi-san wants to make sure you're pulling your weight, of course! He doesn't want you to be lazy and delegate all the work to Hisoka-san!"

"Hey, that's unfair! I do my share of the work!"

"Then why are you lazing about in here?" Younger squawked. "You should be getting to work now!"

"All right, all right! Settle down! I was just about to get moving anyway." He signalled for the tab. "I'm going to search the local hospitals for Norata-san's daughter, while Hisoka will check on Muraki's other patients in Nagasaki once he's finished his tea. Why don't you both use your research skills to compile a list of names for him?"

"Wait! I'm coming with you!" Hisoka threw away his straw and began gulping down the rest of his tea.

"Don't worry, Hisoka-san. I'll keep an eye on him." Gushoshin Elder immediately landed on Tsuzuki's shoulder, talons sinking into the fabric of his shirt. "Younger Brother, you go help Hisoka-san with that list. Use my computer terminal for the time being. I'll accompany Tsuzuki-san on his search." He leaned down to peer closely at Tsuzuki. "This time I'll be watching your every move myself."

Outside the teahouse, Tsuzuki and Hisoka parted ways, each of them with a Gushoshin perched on their shoulder. Although disgruntled about the delegation of duties, Hisoka's protests had been overridden by the imperious manner of the Gushoshin.

Tsuzuki wasn't too pleased either about having an avian chaperone. He'd been hoping to confront Muraki alone. But he didn't have much choice in the matter.

"It must be annoying for you to be sent down here," Tsuzuki said, as he strode along the canal pathways that led to Nagasaki harbour. Few people were out walking in the midday heat, affording them some privacy. "I thought you were pretty busy in the library."

"Spare me the fake sympathy! You're the reason the second library terminal is out of operation!"

"Err...yeah." Tsuzuki looked sheepish. "But I just wanted Gushoshin Younger's help accessing the demon database. I'm still on a library ban, remember?"

"Well!" Gushoshin Elder puffed his feathers out. "I suppose you're not entirely to blame. You don't know about the edict regarding the legal definition of a demon. It was made by Enma-sama when he first established EnmaCho, his official department in Meifu."

"Really? So what's this 'legal' definition?"

"To be defined as a demon, a spiritual entity must fulfil two major criteria: firstly, it must be parasitic; and secondly, it must only use Fire energy. Demons are the only entities of interest to EnmaDaiOh-sama because of their interference in the cycle of human life and death. Therefore, they're the only beings we're meant to catalogue in the database." He sighed. "Younger Brother forgot because he's been reading too much silly fantasy novels based on Western mythology. He now thinks all demons breathe fire and wave pitchforks!"

They reached a park with a breathtaking view of Nagasaki Harbour. On the left was the mouth of the harbour with its container terminals and ships, on the right was the main city huddled around the expanse of water. Facing them was the mountain range looming over the city and harbour - the same mountain range that limited the extent of devastation from the horrific atomic bomb blast many decades ago.

Tsuzuki strolled along the wooden dock that led to the waterfront, hands in the pockets of his coat. The cool sea breeze was a welcome relief from the heat. "I don't get it, Gushoshin. Why aren't you allowed to catalogue other parasitic spirits? Even if there aren't any around now, why not keep a record for posterity? Who knows, they might make a comeback one of these days."

"It's not my role to question the wisdom of EnmaDaiOh-sama." Gushoshin hunched his neck so his beak rested on his puffed breast. "I don't want to incur the wrath of Kinu."

Tsuzuki froze. "Who is Kinu?"

"The Gold Raven. According to legend, he is a great bird who embodies the power of the sun. He is said to be all-knowing and wise, yet as brilliant in appearance as the sun itself."

Tsuzuki began walking again. "Is he a shikigami like Suzaku Nee-san?"

"No, no! He's not untamed like the elemental shikigami! He serves EnmaDaiOh-sama, just like us. But no one has ever seen him, or at least lasted long enough to tell the tale. He is said to be the eyes and ears for Akasha, the supercomputer of JuOhCho." Despite their isolation on the dock, Gushoshin lowered his voice. "I'm convinced he was involved in sabotaging Younger Brother's terminal. The virus that attacked Younger Brother's terminal was named Pyrios. I looked it up - it's the name of one of the mythical chariot horses owned by Helios, Greek god of the sun."

"The gold raven Kinu," Tsuzuki murmured to himself. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't put a finger on it. "So Kinu doesn't want you to learn about non-Fire demons either. I wonder why."

"I don't," Gushoshin retorted. He floated around in mid-air to block Tsuzuki's path. "It's not my job to wonder, Tsuzuki-san. And it's not your job either. You're a shinigami appointed by DaiOh-sama-"

"Am I? Are you sure?" Tsuzuki deftly sidestepped him and whirled around, coat flaring around him. "What if I'm not meant to be a God of Death? What if my appointment was a ruse to divert me from my true calling?"

Gushoshin flapped his little wings in agitation. "Tsuzuki-san, what are you saying? You were selected to be a shinigami like all the rest because of your persisting emotional ties to the land of the living! You agreed to the terms laid down by DaiOh-sama!"

"I know, but that was before I knew the truth about myself!"

"Huh? What truth? What are you talking about now, you idiot?"

A wooden post on the dock caught Tsuzuki's eye. "I'll show you." He pulled off his gloves and strode over to it.

"Wait! How can you accuse DaiOh-sama of tricking you? How can you accuse him of such treachery?"

Tsuzuki placed his bare hands against the post, and focused his mind.

"Hey, don't close your eyes when I'm telling you off!"

The wooden post creaked. Ridges and grooves appeared on its surface, gradually spreading over the entire surface. Its colour changed from dull grey to a rich dark brown. With a soft crack, a single green branch sprouted between Tsuzuki's extended fingers.

Gushoshin Elder stopped in mid-squawk. His lower beak dropped. He was transfixed, dumbfounded.

Tsuzuki sighed. The persistent tightness between his shoulder blades was easing once more. He smiled a little when he saw Gushoshin's reaction. "Not what you'd expect for a God of Death, huh?"

"Y-you...have the power to grant life!"

Tsuzuki let go of the post, and studied his hands. "To plants, yeah." His fingers tingled with residual Wood energy.

Gushoshin Elder levitated closer to look as well. "Only plants?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Tsuzuki started at the question. "I...I've never tried to channel it anywhere else."

Gushoshin's gaze was fixed on Tsuzuki's hands. His beady eyes held an intensity Tsuzuki had never seen from him before. It was more than avid curiosity. It was the same look Muraki had given him when his demonic cat had fled in terror from his hands - hands damp with elemental Water.

A look of hungry longing.

Tsuzuki held out one hand, palm up. "Shall I try it on you?" he asked gently.

The bird spirit beat a hasty retreat, but irresistible curiosity drew him back. Tsuzuki held his hand perfectly still while Gushoshin's beady eyes inspected it for any sign to account for the small miracle he had witnessed.

"Is this power really yours to give?" he asked in a hushed voice.

It was more than a question - it was a plea.

"Come," Tsuzuki beckoned. "Come to me, and we'll both find out."

"But...but I'm not dead!"

"No, you're not," Tsuzuki acknowledged, "but neither are you the Gushoshin of legend, who sat on the shoulder of every living human to document their every deed, good and bad, in preparation for their final judgement."

Gushoshin stared at him, unmoving. The sea breeze whipped at his little beret and smock, as if to tug him out of Tsuzuki's reach.

"Under EnmaDaiOh, you've become a librarian who documents what? Book loans? Don't you miss the authority you've lost?"

A keen light sparked in the depths of Gushoshin's eyes - a telltale sign of a forgotten memory rekindled. Unseen by them both, the floating shadow he cast on the wooden dock planks began to shift and change form.

"It's been so long...since anyone has spoken of the old days. How do you know?"

Tsuzuki smiled sadly. "Well, you're not the only one who's been sealed so long you've almost forgotten the deeds of your past."

Gushoshin floated closer. For a moment, he hovered uncertainly over Tsuzuki's outstretched hand. Then, as if making a painful decision, he squeezed his eyes shut, swooped past Tsuzuki's arm and settled on his shoulder.

"The past is the past," he said slowly. "Now I serve EnmaDaiOh, and so do you. We have a summons from JuOhCho to deliver, remember?"

"I remember." Tsuzuki lowered his hand and put his gloves back on. Although hurt by the rebuff, he wasn't too surprised. "Perhaps more vividly than you."

His gaze drifted across the harbour to Mount Inasa, distinguished by the cable cars slowly moving up and down its slope. Somewhere on that summit was Muraki's penthouse apartment. How many nights had he surveyed this city from high up there while held in Muraki's possessive embrace? Just the two of them side by side, watching the city lights and the rising moon...

Each night you come to me, the moon swells a little more. As it waxes into perfect fullness, so my dreams approach fruition...and so will you.

Tsuzuki's breath caught in his throat. A blurry childhood memory was crystallising into sharp clarity.

Please come down, Gyokuto-sama! I want to play with you! Please come and play with me!

"Gyokuto..."

"Tsuzuki-san?" Gushoshin Elder was looking at him strangely. "What is it?"

"What...what about Gyokuto, the Jade Hare of legend who represents the moon?" Tsuzuki's voice was low and urgent. "Do you know if he serves EnmaDaiOh too?"

"I don't think so." Gushoshin cocked his head to one side. "Gyokuto's name is never spoken of in EnmaCho. Why do you ask?"

"Then maybe...maybe it's time I introduce you," Tsuzuki murmured, "and address him by his proper title."

"What are you talking about? What about our assignment?"

"Never mind." Tsuzuki pulled his coat around him. "You're right, Gushoshin. We've wasted enough time. Let's go find the Norata family."

In the waiting room of the intensive care unit, Muraki stood at the glass window, watching.

In an isolation room at the far corner, Norata-san and his wife sat by their daughter's bedside. A second glass window enabled him to see the couple huddled together, vainly seeking solace from the sight of her lifeless body.

Numerous cords and tubes were draped over her chest, along her arms, and coiled around her neck: ECG leads to monitor her heart, intravenous lines for fluids and medication, an intra-arterial line to monitor blood pressure. An endotracheal tube, connected to a pipe resembling vacuum cleaner hose, extended from her gaping mouth to a ventilator that made her chest rise and fall with metronomic precision, but bore no resemblance to normal breathing.

Violated in the name of medicine, she lived. But to the parents who had known her as a vibrant young woman, relatively well a few days ago, she may as well have been dead.

He had yet to speak to them. She wasn't directly under his care this time, so he was under no professional obligation to do so. The doctors working here would have explained her diagnosis and treatment.

But as the surgeon who operated on her in the past, he had a vested interest in her outcome. He didn't bestow his surgical expertise upon her diseased heart simply to watch her die of complications a few years later.

"How is she?"

Muraki turned. Tsuzuki stood by his side, arms folded, dressed in his usual funereal black outfit. On his shoulder perched the Gushoshin bird spirit, feathers all ruffled to appear bigger - doing his best to look as menacing as possible.

"Her condition is serious. She's in septic shock with a suspected case of infective endocarditis. Blood cultures so far have been negative, which obviously delays appropriate treament."

Obviously? To Tsuzuki, there was nothing obvious about anything Muraki just said. "What's...infective endocarditis?" The alien words meant little, but Muraki's voice imbued them with the loathing typically reserved for demonic names.

"The prosthetic valve I gave her five years ago has become infected," Muraki explained, his voice clinical and matter-of-fact. "I've been informed by the specialist here that vegetations are present on ultrasound - these are small infected blood clots attached to the valve that constantly seed bacteria through her bloodstream with every heartbeat. Her condition hasn't improved on empiric antibiotic therapy, which makes it vital that the bacteria responsible is found, along with its antibiotic susceptibility profile. Without those findings, her condition will only deteriorate further."

In the isolation room, her mother covered her face in her hands. Norata-san put his arm around her and bowed his head.

"How are they coping?"

"See for yourself." Muraki turned away. "I haven't gone in to see them. My surgical skills are of no use unless the valve fails, in which case her condition will be critical. At the moment, there isn't much I can offer them in the way of comfort." He moved towards the door.

A feeling of helplessness overcame Tsuzuki as he watched Muraki's retreating back. "And what about you?" he blurted out. "Are you...handling this all right?"

Muraki's hand paused on the door handle. "I'm well, thank you." He cast a mocking glance over his shoulder. "Good day."

Gushoshin Elder waited for the door to close before he let out a big sigh. "Phew! He's gone at last! Now we can approach the Norata family without his pesky interference! " He floated onto the window ledge, placed his beak against the glass and peered at the rows of beds with open curiosity. "I'll make myself invisible to avoid suspicion, and then we can go in there together. Got that, Tsuzuki-san?"

When he got no reply, he turned around. Tsuzuki was already out the door.

Muraki was striding down the busy corridor towards the lift lobby, his white coat swishing around him. Such was his aura of purpose that other people moved aside automatically to let him through, then closed ranks as Tsuzuki scrambled to catch up.

"Excuse me!" He dodged a porter pushing an old man in a wheelchair. "Pardon me, I'm so sorry!" He narrowly avoided a member of the catering staff and her meal trolley, only to run into a couple of nurses. "Forgive me!"

"Another dreamboat," one nurse said as he raced past them.

The other nurse nodded. "Almost as good-looking as the guy he's following!"

Aware of the commotion behind him, Muraki slowed his pace to let Tsuzuki catch up. "Did you have something further to say?" He didn't bother looking Tsuzuki's way.

"Yes!" Tsuzuki glared at him. "Why are you running away? What are you afraid of?"

Muraki stopped dead in his tracks. "Are you calling me a coward, Tsuzuki-san?" There was a dangerous undertone in his silken voice.

A thrill of excitement skittered along Tsuzuki's spine. Only Muraki could fill him with such bone-melting weakness using nothing more than the sound of his voice. "Y-You will be...if you don't meet them. At least say hello."

"Hello? What use is that to anyone?" he sneered back. "You have my permission to greet them in my place."

"It doesn't matter if you can't do anything! As the surgeon who once saved her, you can give them so much comfort and hope simply in being by their side." Tentatively Tsuzuki touched his arm, trying to offer what comfort he could. For all his outward hostility, Muraki was suffering inside too. "You gave her five good years. You didn't fail, not this time."

Muraki's arm twitched at the touch. "You're doing this on purpose," he muttered. "You know the effect you have on me." He looked around, aware they were blocking the entrance to the lift lobby. "Very well." He seized Tsuzuki's gloved hand and began marching back. "I'll see them on one condition."

"What?" Bemused at the abrupt turnaround, Tsuzuki had to lengthen his own stride to keep pace.

"You are never, ever to repeat this morning's incident again."

Tsuzuki knew what he meant. "Why not? It energised you, didn't it?"

Muraki's grip was crushing. "It was a physical violation. You never sought my permission-"

Tsuzuki wrenched his hand free. "Because I knew you'd never give it! You never let me reciprocate! You never let me do anything for you!"

Without another word, Muraki turned on his heel and headed straight for the lifts.

"Tsuzuki-san!" Cloaked by his invisibility spell, Gushoshin Elder floated over the heads of the passersby to land on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "What are you chasing him for? You've got an assignment to carry out! If he's not directly interfering in our work, then let's leave him well alone!"

A lift full of passengers closed its doors. Muraki jabbed the down button again.

"You're right, Gushoshin," Tsuzuki made his voice loud enough for Muraki to overhear. "We have a summons from JuOhCho to deliver. Let's get back to work."

Muraki turned around. Behind him, a vacant lift opened its doors.

"A summons?" he repeated. He came towards them, his manner now stiffly polite. "I wasn't aware you were here on official business, Tsuzuki-san. I would've expected the boy to accompany you-"

"He's investigating another lead. He'll be here later."

Muraki's true eye narrowed. "So which poor soul is to be expressly delivered into Enma's grasp this time?"

Gushoshin Elder materialised on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "None of your business!"

Tsuzuki lowered his gaze. In the moment of truth, he lacked the courage to look Muraki in the eye. But neither did he resist when Muraki lifted his jaw. "You must go back and see Norata-san and his wife. They need you there - now more than ever."

Uncertainty, then disbelief flickered over Muraki's features. He knew.

"I see," he finally said. "Still Enma's loyal dog, ne?"

Tsuzuki flushed. "What about you, Muraki? Still preying on others to feed your lust for power?"

"What of it?" Muraki regarded him intently for a moment. "Don't tell me you're jealous?" He sauntered back down the corridor before Tsuzuki could reply.

Gushoshin looked from one man to the other. "What just happened between you two? Does he know?"

"About the girl, yeah. I'm not sure if he realises her parents are to be summoned too." Tsuzuki tugged at his loosened tie. Sparring with Muraki always left him hot and bothered one way or another. "Let's go hear what he has to say to them. Maybe that'll give us some idea if he's really involved in their failure to show up for judgement."