Daaku Kurou, Karadin and Peppermint T have kindly drawn fanart for this story - please visit my site (in my profile) to view them. I've also updated links so all giftart works are hosted on my server (except one which is 404 at the moment).

Thanks once again to those who have taken the time to write feedback. I write really slow, so I appreciate it very much.

Norata-san's daughter was as pale and delicate as a porcelain doll...and just as lifeless.

Muraki's gaze went to the computer screen hanging overhead. The display listed her vital signs: heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation were stable for the time being.

Flanking him on either side, Norata-san and his wife waited pensively for Muraki's verdict. They had been told the grim news from the specialists here. They were already steeling themselves for the worst. But they desperately wanted hope...and they sought it in the surgeon who had worked a miracle on her once before.

"Keiko is a fighter, ne? She fought her way back after the operation, and she is fighting now." He looked at them then, his cool gaze firm and unwavering. "Do not mourn her before her time. You must not give up on her yet."

To Tsuzuki, cloaked in invisibility as a silent bystander, the words seemed brutal and unfeeling. Surely their grief was understandable under the circumstances.

But Norata-san seemed to draw strength from Muraki's words. He straightened his hunched shoulders. "You are right, sensei. Keiko is the brave one, fighting for her life. It is we who are weak."

"That's untrue." Muraki's voice was low and unusually gentle. "If you were so weak, then how could you have raised a daughter with such a strong will to live?"

"W-We just feel so helpless, sensei." Norata-san's wife hastily wiped away her tears. "If only there was something we could do to help her..."

"Speak to her. She can still hear, even if she cannot respond. She will recognise your voice above others for you are her family." Muraki took her hand, which was fidgeting on the side rail, and placed it on the lax hand of her daughter, which lay lifeless on the sheets. "No miracle of medical science shall ever replace your love and support."

She summoned a teary smile. "We'll do our best, sensei." She interlaced her fingers with that of her daughter's and squeezed tight.

Muraki left them alone shortly afterwards. He spoke briefly with one of the staff specialists on duty - an impenetrable exchange of jargon punctuated by sighs and much head-shaking.

Once he had thanked the specialist for his time, Muraki quietly walked out.

Still cloaked by invisibility, Tsuzuki went back to the girl's bedside.

"Maria Wong looked exactly like this," Gushoshin Elder muttered. Perched on Tsuzuki's shoulder, he solemnly observed the grieving family. "She was as white as a sheet too, remember?"

"Yes," Tsuzuki agreed, "but Maria Wong had the strength to kill on Muraki's behalf, didn't she? This poor girl is so ill she needs a machine just to breathe. She's useless to Muraki in this condition."

Gushoshin Elder ruffled his feathers, miffed. "Perhaps Muraki is draining her of energy. Maybe he's the reason this girl is here in the first place."

"Hmm. I'm not so sure. If Muraki wanted to feed off her energy, wouldn't he have given her a condition that prolonged her agony and suffering?" She was comatose, virtually at death's door - a poor outcome for any self-respecting parasite in search of a satisfying energy meal. "According to the Kiseki, she's overdue for judgement, right? Perhaps this infection was meant to bring about her death all along...and it's just taken a little longer than expected to take effect."

"Then what about her parents? They are overdue for judgement too. What could be keeping them here?"

Oblivious to their presence, her mother leaned close to her ear, murmuring words of encouragement. Her father sat in his chair, hands clasped together in silent prayer.

Tsuzuki turned away. "Once she departs, they 'll follow her soon enough."

Muraki waited for him in a public park adjacent to the main hospital building. Seated on one side of a shaded park bench with legs elegantly crossed, he smoked a cigarette. Without a breeze to stir the humid air, the overhead branches and leaves swayed imperceptibly. The cat lounged on the grass in front of him, basking in the dappled sunlight.

Tsuzuki materialised on the other side of the bench, arms folded, legs casually akimbo. Gushoshin Elder appeared with him, perched on the armrail nearest Tsuzuki.

The cat rubbed itself against Tsuzuki's legs in greeting, then lounged back on the grass once more.

Muraki flicked ash from his cigarette. "Have you taken her soul into custody yet?"

"Would I be here if I had?"

"You might have come to gloat over your success." He took a drag from his cigarette. "Or perhaps you're here to deliver a homily on the virtues of premature death."

"Did you mean what you said back there? Do you think she can be revived by the love of her parents?"

Muraki shrugged. "It doesn't matter what I think, does it? Norata-san and his wife have no need for my professional opinion regarding her prognosis - not when they can see the truth with their own eyes."

"I guess you're right." Tsuzuki kicked up a puff of dirt with his shoe. "It just struck me as unusual that a cynic like you would be championing the healing power of love."

"I am a pragmatist, not a romantic. Their love is all they have left - therein lies the source of their grief. I simply advised them to draw on that same love to strengthen their own hearts as best they could." Muraki placed the cigarette to his lips again, his gaze distant. "Whether their love can actually revive her is a moot point - but there is little to be gained in telling them that."

"I watched them after you left. You made a difference, you know. I knew you would." Tsuzuki uncrossed his arms and clasped his hands loosely in front of him. "Thank you."

"No thanks is necessary. You gave me a timely reminder of my professional obligations." He cast a brooding glance Tsuzuki's way. "But if you do want to demonstrate your gratitude, you could begin by ordering your feathered friend to leave us alone."

"I'm not going anywhere," Gushoshin Elder squawked.

Tsuzuki turned to him. "Gushoshin, please-"

The bird spirit puffed his chest out. "I have orders from Tatsumi-san to keep an eye on you during this assignment."

"Then leave the talking to me." Proof positive that Tatsumi didn't trust him - not that he needed it. To make it worse, Muraki now knew it too.

But if Muraki noticed, he didn't show it. He simply leaned back on the bench and took another drag. "May I ask the reason for this investigation? She doesn't have long to live. Let nature take its course, and she will be in Enma's clutches soon enough. Why is shinigami intervention required?"

Tsuzuki shifted awkwardly in his seat. He'd been wondering that too. "According to the Kiseki, the book of the deceased, she was expected earlier than this. We are routinely despatched to investigate such delays because they can hold up the JuOhCho court proceedings."

"Oh, we can't have that. Enma expects a steady stream of freshly-harvested souls, ne? Unripe or not, it makes no difference." Muraki's lips curved in a mocking smile. "As you know, demons value souls for their inherent energy - there are few treats more delectable to a demon than the agony of a captive soul writhing in torment. But what about the great ruler of the Underworld? Have you ever wondered what use Enma has for so many tasty human souls?"

"Enma DaiOh-sama's duty is to judge each soul. He weighs up the good deeds against the evil deeds with the aid of a crystal mirror that reflects a person's true self for all to see. Using such evidence, he decides that individual's fate in the afterlife."

"How well you have learned your mythological folklore, Tsuzuki-san. Enma must surely be pleased with you." Muraki stubbed out his cigarette on the dirt below. "I must confess, I always found that story more underwhelming than terrifying: Enma the great garbage inspector of humanity, busily sorting souls for recycling in the various levels of heaven or hell - the saintly ones in the first bin, the mostly-good in the second, the wicked and incorrigible tossed out in the other-"

"How dare you speak so disrespectfully of Enma DaiOh-sama?" Gushoshin Elder squawked. "Tsuzuki-san, don't let him get away with such insolence!"

"Shh! He's goading us, that's all," Tsuzuki reassured him. "Don't rise to the bait."

"Indeed." Muraki flashed him a knowing, mischievous smile. "You know me so well, ne? Well, considering all the time we've spent together, I would be disappointed if you didn't."

Tsuzuki grimaced, well aware of Gushoshin Elder overhearing every word. "Get to the point, Muraki. You've spent so much time conversing with demons that you're starting to talk in riddles like them. So what do you believe Enma-DaiOh is doing with human souls? You think he's hoarding them for some nefarious purpose?"

"I don't just think, Tsuzuki-san. I know. I've tasted the exquisite energy of human souls for myself. I know how empowering it can be. You've seen first-hand what I could do with an array of souls as my personal energy source. Our first meeting in Nagasaki and our later encounter in Kyoto were fuelled by the energy of murdered human souls, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember all too well."

"Well, just imagine what could be done with millions of human souls. Imagine if you were ruler of Meifu, and you had souls served to you on a regular basis. Think of all that delicious untapped energy there at your fingertips. Imagine accumulating it over time into one huge reservoir, then distilling it into its purest spiritual form. Who wouldn't be tempted to put it to use - just once?"

The leaves overhead began to stir, yet the air remained still. The shadows shifted around them. Startled, Gushoshin Elder looked around.

Tsuzuki was only dimly aware of it. His thoughts were racing with the implications of Muraki's outlandish insinuations. "You...you're suggesting Enma-DaiOh is no better than a demon!"

"Was I?" Muraki pretended to look shocked. "My apologies. I was aiming for an outright accusation."

"But he already has great power as the ruler of Meifu! He's created an administration overseeing the Underworld and an entire realm that mimics the land of the living, right down to the smallest blade of grass-"

"Except that they don't truly die, ne? They're trapped in stasis - like everything else within Meifu. It must require considerable spiritual energy for Enma to maintain such a closed system, don't you think?"

"So you think Enma-DaiOh is using the energy from human souls to keep Meifu the way it is and maintain his grip on power."

The leaves trembled and the branches shook. The shadows shivered below, making the dappled light disperse and coalesce around them.

Gushoshin Elder bobbed up and down. "Don't repeat his traitorous words, Tsuzuki-san! You mustn't listen to him!"

"Let me hear him out. I reap the souls for DaiOh-sama - I have a right to hear his theory as to what becomes of them." He turned to face Muraki. "So what's this energy that sustains the order in Meifu?"

Muraki slid his hand into the breastpocket of his trenchcoat and drew out a gleaming steel cigarette lighter. Idly he began flicking the fliptop lid on and off while he spoke. The clinking noise attracted the cat's attention. It moved towards him, eyes drawn to the lighter.

"His command of it appears impressive on the surface, yet in reality he only utilises a minuscule amount of its potential. So he settles with achieving stasis, while the greatest minds in Meifu grapple with the tricky problem of how he can harness it properly to do his bidding."

"You haven't answered my question. What kind of energy is distilled from human souls?"

Muraki's smile was ironic. "My dear Tsuzuki-san, I thought you'd never ask."

The cat jumped up into his lap. Muraki held it securely in one hand, and continued flicking the lighter lid with the other.

Tsuzuki studied it for the first time. This wasn't Muraki's old lighter. It was satin-polished steel - the Fire-blessed lighter Muraki had once spurned in distaste. As one who wielded Metal, he would naturally steer clear of Fire's controlling influence. But if he could hold it easily now, then his Metal power must be that much greater...

"Deep down, Enma fears it," Muraki continued. "He fears the repercussions of losing his tenuous control over it. He fears what this power can do when it is fully unleashed." Finally Muraki held up the lighter and spun the flint wheel. "Allow me to illustrate by example."

A single gold flame flared to life, then flickered. Its colour faded to brilliant white. At its heart was a small cone of pure violet.

Startled, Tsuzuki recoiled.

The leaves still shook, but the shadows weren't shivering any longer. They slowly drifted towards the flame, concentrating themselves into a single shadow beneath it.

Gushoshin Elder was hypnotised by the light. He froze into absolute stillness.

"Just as there can be no light without shadow, the creative life energy of Wood is not possible without destruction. Unlike other elements, Wood feeds off the other four to sustain itself: Fire to prune, Water to quench, Metal and Earth to nourish and anchor. That's what plants do in nature, ne? Well, procuring the occult elemental energy of Wood is no different. There are two possible methods to procure Wood energy. Firstly, one can activate the regeneration cycle of the elements and consume the other energy types." Muraki bowed his head in Tsuzuki's direction. "A trivial task for one who is master of the four major guardians of the elements."

"I won't do it. I don't want to increase entropy and destabilise all the worlds, especially this one." Tsuzuki looked away for a moment. "So what's the other method?"

"Consume the spiritual energy of an entity that is rich in Fire, Earth, Metal and Water - and thus generate Wood."

"What entity? Shikigami only specialise in one energy type. Demons depend on Fire, and you've told me how low their energy levels are."

Muraki lifted a quizzical brow. "Spiritual energy does not reside only in spirits. Living things possess a spark of spiritual energy too - minuscule compared to shikigami and demons, granted, but significant nevertheless. In their interaction with the material world, they are exposed to the material elements - and thus their spiritual energies too. Out of all living things, one species in particular is gifted at manipulating these material forms to its own advantage. This species has been able to control its environment more than any other, and proliferate across the globe to be the most dominant lifeform on Earth. Cull millions of them, extract each one of its spiritual energy, and there you have it - the perfect raw material to generate precious Wood energy."

Tsuzuki stared at him. "You...you mean human souls?"

"Indeed I do." Muraki flicked off the lighter. "Prized by demons, hoarded by Enma - there is no spiritual resource so dearly sought." He returned the lighter to his pocket.

"But...but then why hasn't a high-ranked demon created Wood energy? And what about you? You've gathered souls, haven't you? Where's your Wood energy?"

"Each human soul only has a minute amount of spiritual power. Millions upon millions must be sacrificed before enough usable Wood energy is distilled."

"I..." Tsuzuki was stunned. The implications were too horrific to contemplate. Could he have been an unwitting accomplice to such a scheme? He shook his head in denial. "I don't believe it. It can't be... Enma-DaiOh would never..."

Muraki's face became closed, shuttered. "Then believe what you like. You have your answer." Muraki picked up the cat and came to his feet. "If the God of Wood does not care if someone else usurps his power, then why should I?" He turned away, his coat swinging around him.

"But you've got no evidence! You make all these crazy claims, but where's the proof? How do I know this isn't just a conspiracy theory you've concocted to turn me against Enma?"

Muraki didn't answer. He walked away from the gravel path towards a copse of trees.

Tsuzuki pursued him, leaving Gushoshin Elder behind. "I've got no reason to trust you. You've tricked me the whole time. You tricked me about your covenant! I thought a demon was responsible, but now you turn around and blame it on me!"

"There are demons, and then there are demons," Muraki replied cryptically. "You assumed my covenant was with a demon to begin with - I merely played along. I knew the idea would appeal to your saviour complex."

"Aha! So you admit you're a liar!"

"No, merely that you're a gullible fool."

Tsuzuki gritted his teeth. "Why didn't you explain any of this when we met in Nagasaki during the Maria Wong case? Or when we were aboard the Queen Camellia?" He seized Muraki's arm. "If you really made a covenant with me all those years ago, then why the hell were you scheming to lop my head off in Kyoto?"

Muraki stopped in mid-stride before the copse of trees. "I...I didn't know." For a moment, he seemed uncertain of himself. "I had no idea my covenant was with you until you revealed yourself in the laboratory."

Tsuzuki eased his grip. Muraki has described him as a faceless, swirling black mass on that moonlit night - but why? Another piece of the puzzle that made no sense. "Revealed myself? What do you mean? I wasn't hiding myself to begin with."

"You have no idea, do you? You have no idea at all." Muraki's lips curled in that all-too-familiar sneer. "You see my dilemma? What would have been the point in explaining anything when you insist on playing the fool?" He sidestepped past Tsuzuki, then suddenly twirled around. "It would be easier to dance alone than with such a clumsy partner, ne?"

The cat clawed at his jacket. "What are you saying?" it yowled. "You must bear witness to the Light!"

Muraki held it away from him. "The Light isn't here. The Light prefers to hibernate in ignorant darkness. I'd have better luck creating a Light of my own." His false eye began to glow. "Now that's an idea."

"Blasphemy!" The cat wriggled in vain. "Do not speak ill of the Light! The Light must be worshipped and glorified!"

Muraki laughed and swung the cat around in a giddy waltz. His coat swirled and flared behind him as if it were light as a feather. Small eddies seemed to trail in his footsteps, stirring the fallen leaves and twigs to dance and twirl in his wake. With nimble steps, he glided effortlessly beneath the canopy of trees.

Tsuzuki turned away. Muraki was taunting him again, and showing off his Wind abilities in the bargain. But Tsuzuki didn't go after him. Their conversation had left him with some serious thinking to do.

Was the entire JuOhCho judicial system established purely to fuel an individual's lust for power, with he and the other shinigami as accomplices? As the newest shinigami, Hisoka would have little idea. But what about Tatsumi? Had he noticed anything amiss beyond the Shoukanka's debts? And what about the Chief, who had been in Enma's employ longer than anyone in the Shoukanka?

Watari's ominous warning came back to haunt him: There are others out there who are watching us - watching you. You can't expect to conduct secret visits to the land of the living every night and not be noticed.

Surely not Watari. Watari was a friend...

Who knew the workings of the JuOhCho computer network like the back of his own hand.

Who knew about his victory over Saagatanus, and his nightly assignations with Muraki.

Who had too much dirt on him to be considered a friend for much longer.

Tsuzuki looked down at his gloved hands. If Muraki was telling the truth, then they held the key to both creation and destruction. No wonder Gushoshin Elder retreated in fear. On some atavistic level, he must have realised too.

Come to think of it - where was Gushoshin?

He looked back. Gushoshin Elder remained on the park bench, locked in a trance.

Tsuzuki started to go to him, then changed his mind. Quickly he pulled out a barrier fuda and held it between index and middle finger. With a whispered prayer, it transformed into a white swallow.

"Guard him in my absence."

The swallow trilled, then flew off.

Tsuzuki pulled off his gloves. The rest of Meifu wouldn't be happy when they found out. With his unsealed power, he had been a liability in the material world, and he would still be a liability in Meifu too. But they must have recognised his potential as a reaper of souls - why else would they have sealed him and retained him as a Shinigami? His ties to the land of the living were stronger than that of any ordinary mortal.

He reached out to touch the slender trunk of a young sapling. At a single caress, the bark twitched like a living animal, and a slender limb sprouted with unfurling leaves. He stroked the thread-like tip, and a tendril snaked towards him like ivy, twining around his fingertips.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. Nostalgic childhood memories tugged at his consciousness.

Look, Okaa-san! I can make plants grow! They grow when I tell them to, Okaa-san!

One small white bud blossomed. Tsuzuki lifted it up for a closer look. The flower unfurled and nodded at him in greeting.

"Hello there."

An icy gust of wind whooshed past his cheek, followed by a brutal snap. The fledgling branch shuddered and fell limp. Tsuzuki fumbled to support it, only to find it was severed from the trunk. .

"If you wanted someone to dance with, you only had to ask," Muraki drawled from behind.

Tsuzuki whirled around, the branch forgotten as it fell to the ground. "Why? Why did you break it? It was a new growth!"

Muraki bowed low before him. His white trenchcoat rippled and swished with his movements as if propelled by a magical updraft. "Forgive me for cutting in so rudely." But there was nothing apologetic about his imperious manner. "Dance with me."

Tsuzuki stepped back. He had no idea Muraki was so close. "Why should I? Weren't you happier on your own?"

"You bestow your power too freely." Muraki stepped forward, crushing the broken branch beneath his feet. He held out his hand. "Dance with me."

An order - and a challenge.

A thrill of excitement went through Tsuzuki. This was one challenge he knew he could handle.

"All right." Tsuzuki held his head high, with shoulders back and chest out, and extended his arms in the formal ballroom dancing pose. His experience as practice partner for his mother and sister was pronounced in every inch of his bearing.

Muraki blinked. More accustomed to Tsuzuki's slouched posture, he was surprised at the transformation.

Tsuzuki took his hand and dared to place it on his own shoulder - the typical position of the partner who follows.

But Muraki wasn't having any of it. He pulled himself free and instead reached under Tsuzuki's arm to grasp him by the shoulder blade. His sharp nails pressed through the fabric as he propelled Tsuzuki towards him - a reminder of the many times he had clawed the very same spot.

Tsuzuki trembled. How many times had Muraki eased the burning ache inside him? The excoriations were inextricably linked to their sexual encounters. His hand settled above Muraki's shoulder without protest. He leaned back a little, all the better to enjoy the prickling sensation of Muraki's nails.

Muraki's eyes glittered, but he said nothing. He simply took hold of Tsuzuki's other hand in a firm grip, then whirled him around into the dappled shadows of the trees. His movements were sure and graceful. His lean body pressed close against Tsuzuki to lead the way - a potent reminder of his latent physical strength.

Tsuzuki had no time to resist - he followed without conscious thought, led purely by the feel of Muraki's body moving against his, and his hands binding them close.

Step after step Muraki led the way, swinging Tsuzuki around backwards until he was almost dizzy, gliding forward so he could recover his senses, only to swing him around in another circle. Trees large and small stood in their way, yet Muraki wove his way through them without colliding with a single one. Inside was a shadowy clearing covered with leaves, where they were free to dance in relative solitude. Their trenchcoats swished and swirled behind them - white and black chasing each other round and round. From above, they were the moving version of the Yin-Yang symbol - opposites flowing together to form a united whole.

"Well, well." Muraki's warm breath caressed Tsuzuki's ear. "I never imagined you would be such a good dance partner. I thought you'd be inept, shambolic, clumsy - yet you're nothing of the kind. You effortlessly follow my lead...the same way you do in bed."

Tsuzuki lifted his chin to look Muraki in the eye. "I'm also good at taking the lead."

"Really?" Muraki drawled. He increased the tempo of his steps and whirled Tsuzuki around even faster.

Tsuzuki matched step for step. "You want me to take my place as a God of Wood, yet you're jealous when I help a little plant to grow. What's wrong with me using my power as I see fit?"

Muraki dug his nails into his shoulder, propelling him closer still. "So you intend to use your powers for nothing more than gardening - instead of considering the human lives you could save." He bent his head to nuzzle Tsuzuki's ear. "Such as Keiko, for example."

Tsuzuki stiffened against him, and lost his footing. "If I fail to deliver the summons, I'd be in breach of the JuOhCho court orders. I wouldn't do that, unless..."

"Unless?"

"Never mind." He had torn up a summons in defiance of the judiciary when a person had shown enough willpower and tenacity to resist the pull of death. But he couldn't tell Muraki that. "Even if I did fail, perhaps that wouldn't be enough to save her. She would still have to overcome her infection...assuming she has one."

Muraki raised a quizzical brow. "Do you doubt her illness? You saw her for yourself."

"I'm sure her illness is real, but I wonder about the cause. This entire situation could be a setup: you cast a barrier spell to prevent her arriving at the appointed time for judgement, then you curse her to rouse my sympathy and test my loyalties to Enma. I wouldn't put it past you."

"Why, Tsuzuki-san, you think I would harm someone I toiled to save by my own hand?"

"You murdered Tsubaki aboard the Queen Camellia," Tsuzuki reminded him. "She was your patient."

"Why, so I did." Muraki thought back for a moment - he had murdered so many that the individuals were becoming a blur. "Well, her father refused to assist with my lucrative organ trafficking syndicate after I saved his daughter's life. In the face of such ingratitude, wouldn't you have done the same?"

Tsuzuki ignored his levity. "So have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Have you cursed her?"

"Of course not. Why would I need her spiritual energy now that I have yours?" Muraki flexed his nails against Tsuzuki's shoulder blade like a lion appreciating the tactile feel of its prey. "Your energy is richer than that of any mortal. I have no use for curses anymore." He bent his head to nip at Tsuzuki's ear.

"Stop that." Muraki was hurting him, yet there was no denying the erotic thrill in the sharp, piercing sensations. "Someone might see."

"Even if I did curse her, you could undo it. You hold the power of regeneration and eternal life." He punctuated each sentence with a sharp nip, while waltzing around and around in perfect tempo. "Touch her the way you touched that plant, and she will be cured in body, mind and spirit. Do not fall into the trap of assuming Wood energy works only on plants. Wood will nourish the material elements in all living creatures too - which is why it is the true source of eternal life."

"Are you serious?" Tsuzuki could barely concentrate. The combination of giddy dancing and Muraki's caresses was threatening his resolve. "I...I can cure with a touch?"

"Of course. Now that I have unsealed you, one touch is all it would take. You'd be the envy of every physician and surgeon. You would be lauded as a miracle worker, a hero...even a Messiah."

It was unbelievable, a dream come true. Tsuzuki blinked up at him, incredulous. "Are you serious?

"Certainly." Muraki spun him around and around with consummate ease. "Shall I take you back there now?"

Tsuzuki was dazed, disoriented. He was no lightweight, yet he was little more than a leaf swirling in circles, held in thrall by Muraki's lithe strength. Together with the dizzy promises murmured in his ear, he felt as if he was in a dream.

He squeezed Muraki's hand to reassure himself it was real. "One touch?"

Muraki smiled. He dug his nails so deep that it pierced Tsuzuki's flesh through the material of his coat and shirt. "One touch."

Tsuzuki trembled, and it wasn't in pain. He shut his eyes and focused his power on their joined hands. When he opened them several seconds later, he found Muraki's lips hovering inches from his own and his false eye glowing softly.

"I'm no miracle worker." Tsuzuki averted his face. "I can't cure you, can I?"

"Cure me?" Two syllables injected with ominous suspicion. "Of what?"

"Your scarred false eye, and your cold unfeeling heart. You're more in need of healing than her. If I had the power to heal, I'd make you my very first patient."

"You hypocrite," Muraki sneered. "It's only because I am what I am that you find me so irresistible in the first place. I'm everything you outwardly fear, yet secretly desire." He bent his head, and nipped Tsuzuki's earlobe hard enough to draw blood. "You think your touch alone will satisfy my need? Have you learned nothing from our evenings together?"

Tsuzuki gasped, but he couldn't wrench himself away. His entire body still moved in effortless union with Muraki's...while his insides quivered like jelly. "Muraki...not here. Hisoka might see us."

"Let him see." Muraki licked at the blood. With his lips, he teased and suckled the soft lobe. "Let the whole world and the underworld see."

"No...ahh...we can't..." Dizzy with the dancing and aroused by Muraki's seductive nibbling, Tsuzuki teetered on the brink of capitulation. "All right. I...I'll do my best to cure her..."

Muraki chuckled. "You will cure her - I am sure of it." His lips searched for the sensitive spot behind Tsuzuki's ear.

"...but first you must allow me...to feed you...my way."

Muraki stopped so abruptly Tsuzuki collided against him.

"Your way?" he sneered. "Your way?" He shook Tsuzuki by the shoulders. "Why bring up that degrading incident again? You knew I would never give my consent, so you waited until I was vulnerable to take advantage of me! Did you enjoy using me for your own gratification so much?"

Clinging against him for support, Tsuzuki could see the glittering anger in his narrowed eyes. Muraki was not a man to change his mind; his will was implacable as iron. Accustomed to having his way in all things, compromise was alien to him, negotiation beyond comprehension.

He was supposed to be the God of Wood, harbinger of chaos and master of eternal life. But pinned by Muraki's chilly gaze, he may as well have been a wriggling worm to be crushed under his heel - and it thrilled him beyond all reason.

The summons from JuOhCho, his assignment here in the land of the living, even the Gushoshin Brothers and his partner Hisoka - none of it mattered as much as the crazy desire to submit to Muraki's will. Being able to possess Muraki would always be the ultimate prize...but being taken by Muraki wasn't such a bad consolation prize either.

With his heart thudding in his chest, Tsuzuki nodded in mute agreement. He pressed himself full-length against the solid warmth of Muraki's body, showing with his body what he was too ashamed to say with words.

Muraki hauled him close. "Well, well." Reassured of his dominance, his lips curved in sardonic amusement. "Perhaps I should give you a taste of what it's like to be on the receiving end, ne? You need to be reminded of the pleasure in being possessed before you can give an honest answer."

As they dematerialised in a flurry of white feathers, he pulled a willing Tsuzuki into a crushing kiss.

After interviewing the fourth patient on the list, Hisoka and Gushoshin Younger had gathered enough information to have some idea of Muraki's recent movements.

"So Muraki's been in touch with them all. He's called the first three to check on their well-being, and he visited the fourth in person." Hisoka flicked through his notepad. "That was two weeks ago, which means Muraki must have been in Nagasaki for at least that long. How did that last patient look to you, Gushoshin?"

"Pretty sprightly for a lady in her eighties," Gushoshin replied. "She was very nice to us too. She even offered us tea!"

"Yeah." Walking along the footpath, Hisoka had to agree. "At first I thought Muraki might have drained her of blood, but she didn't look pale or tired, did she?" He shrugged. "I guess that's no surprise. He seems to prefer his victims younger anyway."

Gushoshin was oblivious to the sarcasm. "Well, she mentioned having a wound infection after her recent surgery. Maybe Muraki wanted to check up on her. Did you see that big scar going down her chest? That was scary!"

"Yeah, it was." The beginning of an ugly keloid scar had been visible just above the folds of her silk kimono. She had not been ashamed of it at all - in fact she had pointed it out to them:

I know it doesn't look pretty, but I wouldn't be alive without it. So to me, this scar is something to be proud of. It marks me as a survivor. Only we survivors are fortunate enough to have scars.

Hisoka glanced down at his covered arms. His curse marks weren't quite the same as scars - their appearance seemed to wax and wane according to Muraki's whim. But her words had made him wonder. How could such a disfiguring mark be a source of pride? How could something so ugly be a sign of good fortune?

No, it was ugly, shameful...something best left concealed even on a humid summer's day.

Perched on his shoulder, Gushoshin Younger peered down at him. "Are you all right, Hisoka-san? You must be feeling pretty hot wearing that jacket!"

"I'm used to it." Hisoka pulled his denim jacket around him. "How many more patients do we have to find?"

"Twenty-two."

Hisoka grimaced. If they were anything like the four interviews he'd just conducted, then they would be filled with gushing tributes to Muraki-sensei's miraculous skills and dedication to saving the human race, interspersed with the odd tear of joyful gratitude. Honestly, the cloying sappiness was enough to make him sick. "I need a break."

He bought a can of lemon soda from a streetside vending machine, taking care to pick something well within the daily allowance allocated by Tatsumi. Even though he wasn't human, he still had to look after the needs of his body.

"That's something I never did get about being a Shinigami," he said between sips. "I mean, we're given rapid healing powers and the ability to use spells to help us in our work. But why do we still feel hunger and thirst? Our bodies are virtually immortal now. It shouldn't matter if we starve or dehydrate, because our bodies will recover anyway."

"Hisoka-san!" Gushoshin Younger was appalled. "But your appetites are the source of pleasure and enjoyment! Without them, imagine how dull the afterlife would be! Eating and drinking until you're fit to burst - without the nastier repercussions - is what makes the afterlife fun!"

Hisoka thought back to the Shoukanka morning tea. Everyone had been so excited about the sweets Tsuzuki brought in. He recalled how Tsuzuki tenderly held the manju bun to his mouth...and the explosion of emotions that came with that first bite: burning hunger, followed by a rich voluptuous pleasure that seemed to uncurl through one's entire body.

How Tsuzuki could derive so much enjoyment from food was beyond his understanding. The King of Sweets? What a moron!

"Hmph." Hisoka wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "I suppose eating and drinking can feel good, yeah. But that's only because it relieves the pain of being hungry and thirsty in the first place. If we didn't experience these bothersome appetites, then we wouldn't know what we were missing and we'd be better off for it," he concluded.

"Well...I guess so," Gushoshin Younger conceded in a doubtful tone.

Hisoka mused over Tsuzuki's inordinate pleasure when it came to eating food. Maybe his appetites were simply greater than a normal person.

The image lingered in his uneasy mind: Tsuzuki's lips as he lovingly nibbled and caressed the pale white manju bun...

...the same shade of pale white as Muraki's skin.

Hisoka stiffened. His fingers tightened over the can until the metal buckled.

"Hisoka-san?" Gushoshin Younger asked. "Is something wrong?"

"There's something important I need to know. I want you to be honest with me." Hisoka's voice was tightly controlled. "What exactly did Tsuzuki get up to last week when he invited you down to Nagasaki?"

Pleasure. Exquisite pleasure.

Back in the penthouse apartment, Tsuzuki was having his most base of appetites filled by the thrust of Muraki's cock.

Nude except for the bandages he had wound over his torso to conceal the torn wings, he rested on his hands and knees. Kneeling behind him, Muraki slowly pushed into his ass, withdrew, then surged forward again.

Tsuzuki groaned. His thighs quivered under the onslaught. Between them, his balls swayed in time with Muraki's driving movements. His ass throbbed and ached...and it felt like heaven.

"You like that, ne?" Kneeling over him, Muraki gripped his hips on either side to control the rhythm and depth of each thrust. "Even if you don't cry out, I can tell. The way your muscles ripple as you squeeze around me...ahh, just so..." His voice was thick and husky with arousal.

"Muraki..." Tsuzuki shuddered. Muraki was sliding against his prostate, setting off sparks of pleasure deep within him. His cock twitched and hardened in response. "There...that's the spot..."

"Are you sure?" Muraki angled his hips the same way.

"Yes! Oh yes..." Tsuzuki shuddered again. His fingers clenched the sheets beneath him for support. "More..."

A throaty chuckle escaped from Muraki's lips. "Really?" He slowly slid the entire way out. "I don't want to coerce you into doing this against your will."

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki struggled to push himself back. Muraki's nails dug into his hips, drawing blood - a fleeting pain compared to the ache of frustration within. "Please...don't stop. I want this!"

"Are you sure?" Muraki allowed his cock to slide between the cleft of Tsuzuki's buttocks, teasing the delicate perineal flesh and the sensitised opening. "Before you insisted on being on top. Before you demanded that we do it your way. Have you suddenly changed your mind?"

Tsuzuki shuddered and pushed back, offering up his ass without inhibition. "You want Hisoka to barge in on us? Just do it, dammit!"

Muraki chuckled again. "You're right. That boy does have the worst possible timing." He adjusted his angle of entry, and slid himself home once more. "It's better this way, don't you agree?"

"Mmm..." Tsuzuki buried his face in the sheets to muffle his moan of bliss.

Muraki sighed deeply. "Admit it: you love me inside you, filling you up. You love it more than anything in the entire world." While keeping himself buried to the hilt, he began a series of small steady thrusts.

Tsuzuki shuddered. "Yes...oh yes...that's perfect..."

"Exactly." Muraki leaned forward to kiss the nape of Tsuzuki's sweat-damp neck. "So why tamper with perfection? This is the way we're meant to be together." One of his hands snaked around to massage Tsuzuki's erection.

Tsuzuki exhaled sharply. Muraki's every touch seemed to elicit a new ripple of delight, whether it was the hard heavy weight against his back that prevented escape, the hungry mouth that licked and nipped his shoulder, or the possessive hand that stroked his slick cock to throbbing hardness. And throughout it all, there was the unbearably exquisite sensation of Muraki deep inside him, striking a steady bassline of sizzling jolts that threatened to turn him into a trembling, incoherent wreck.

Under such a tumult of sensations, he wasn't in a position to disagree. Perhaps it was better to rejoice in the mindless bliss of capitulation, and allow Muraki to give and give until he had nothing left...

He bit his lip, remembering. Muraki had regained his spiritual power - the way he had magically whisked them both to his apartment using his own power was proof. He was becoming the Muraki of old: the one who cast spells with the mastery to match a Shinigami, the one who fearlessly challenged him in battle. Was this a consequence of their numerous feeding sessions? Maybe taking Muraki that one time had made all the difference.

Damn. As good as being fucked by Muraki felt, he couldn't allow it to continue. "Muraki..."

"Mmm, Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki's breath gusted over his shoulder and tickled his jaw.

Tsuzuki lowered his head, and caught a glimpse of his erection appearing and disappearing beneath Muraki's grasping fingers - as captive to Muraki's will as the rest of his trembling, aching body.

"Muraki..." His voice was hoarse and deep. "D-don't overdo it...I don't want you...to exhaust yourself..."

"Focus on yourself." Muraki's hips began rocking in and out faster. "Focus on this, and come for me."

Tsuzuki gasped. The combination of steady fucking and relentless squeezing was becoming too much. Within Muraki's grip, his cock ached and oozed precome. "I'm nearly there...so close..." He shut his eyes, fighting for control. "You're too good..."

"Of course I am."

"...but it doesn't mean that we can only do it this way." Tsuzuki shook his head, doing his best to dissipate the fog of pleasure. "If-if you come now...and collapse from exhaustion...I'll have no choice but to..."

"Silence!" Muraki withdrew and shoved him down onto his back. "I'll never permit it! Never!"

The ache of frustrated arousal was agonising. Tsuzuki could barely speak between heavy pants. "Y-you need...my essence. How else...can you...get it?"

Roughly Muraki pushed his thighs apart and knelt between them. He stared down his nose at Tsuzuki, like a master contemplating how to punish a disobedient servant. His cock jutted out, glistening in the afternoon sunlight.

Too weak to sit up, Tsuzuki could only stare in dazed wonder. His own cock pointed up, silently demanding attention.

Muraki's expression was so hostile that Tsuzuki was sure he would walk out on him then and there. Neglected and disappointed, his erection began to waver and list to one side.

The movement caught Muraki's attention. With an inarticulate growl, he seized Tsuzuki's cock in his hands and swallowed it whole.

Tsuzuki cried out. His hips bucked off the mattress. He grasped Muraki's head - wanting to keep him and his ravenous mouth there for good, yet unable to withstand this surfeit of ecstasy. He arched up, head thrown back, chest heaving, while his feet scrabbled against the sheets - every muscle straining for release or escape.

But Muraki held him down by the hips, and refused to let go. He suckled and swallowed, using this lips and tongue and the warm wet confines of his mouth to suckle Tsuzuki's cock.

Tsuzuki writhed on the bed and kicked out like a wild horse. Muraki seized his ankle, narrowly avoiding a bump to the head.

Lying unnoticed on the nightstand table, the grey cat watched with wide eyes.

Muraki pushed Tsuzuki's knees up to his chest and leaned over him. "Should I stop?"

"Yes...no..." Tsuzuki didn't know what he wanted anymore.

Muraki's lips curled in a wicked grin. "Perhaps you'd enjoy it more if I nourished you, ne?" He slid his cock against Tsuzuki's, rubbing their erections together. "Isn't that more to your liking?"

"Don't..." Tsuzuki shuddered, and tightened his legs around Muraki's torso to hold him still. "Use your mouth. You need to feed from me...

Muraki pressed down on him, his weight heavy and unyielding. His cock nudged Tsuzuki's ass.

"B-but you'll only exhaust yourself-"

Too late. Muraki slid inside him with a single stroke.

Tsuzuki shuddered and shook his head. "You need...to feed first..."

Muraki didn't bother replying to his token protests. With each violent surge of his hips, he began fucking Tsuzuki in earnest. He buried his face against Tsuzuki's shoulder. The only sound he made were his heavy panting breaths with each thrust.

And Tsuzuki was lost, utterly lost. Even as his mind came up with vague objections, he held Muraki tight and willingly rode the pounding waves of Muraki's ruthless possession. Rocking back and forth, over and over, tossed on a sea of glorious pleasure-pain that led to a brutal, pulsating climax.

Muraki tensed, and let out a low growl of triumph. Beneath him, Tsuzuki gasped. His shoulder blades ached with prickling pain - the sprouting of his black wings.

Slowly Muraki withdrew from him. He took in Tsuzuki with a single withering glance: hair mussed, face flushed, lips parted, semen splattered over his chest, legs splayed apart, and black quills emerging from beneath his back.

"You must be tired..." Tsuzuki's voice was hoarse. "Come and feed from me...before it's too late..."

"Why should I? Why should I obey your commands, when you refuse to obey mine?" Muraki moved off the bed and turned away. "You're not the only person I can feed from. There are others I can call on - others who are more compliant and accommodating." He picked up his clothes. "Perhaps it's time I did."

Tsuzuki struggled to sit up. "What do you mean? Who are you talking about?"

Muraki sauntered to the bathroom. "Excuse me. If you're going to leave by conventional means, lock the door on your way out."

"Muraki! Muraki, wait!"

The bathroom door closed with a slam.

The cat leapt to the floor and ran to the door. "Where are you going? The Light must be worshipped and glorified!" It winced as a gust of wind blew from under the door.

Tsuzuki wrenched the door open. Muraki was gone. All he found was a flurry of white feathers swirling on the floor.

In his laboratory, Watari paced the floor, hands behind his back. 003 fluttered above him, mimicking his movements.

On the blackboard was written the numbers 3 and 22, and the word LUX.

"It's got to be a clue," he muttered to himself. "Or a message. But what could it mean?" He halted before the blackboard, stroking his chin.

003 hovered over his head for a few seconds longer, then gave up. She settled atop Watari's head to take a break.

Watari sighed. "I bet Tsuzuki must have some idea. This message is for him, after all. I'd ask him more questions, but he never hangs around long enough."

003 hooted in agreement. She was pretty dizzy from flying in circles for the past half an hour.

"Yeah, you're right. There's no point in getting worked up about it. It's not my business, is it?" Watari sat down at his desk. "Not officially, anyway." He opened the drawer, and took out the drawing of the Tsuzuki's anagram. "There's nothing like it in the JuOhCho supercomputer. I've probed Akasha's vast database as best I could, and come up empty. Now if Akasha doesn't know the answer, who can you ask?"

003 settled on the pile of books atop his desk to take a closer look at the drawing.

"There." Watari held it up so she could see. "Can you make sense of it?"

003 cocked her head to one side for several seconds, then shook her head.

"Well, thanks for trying." Watari put it back down again. Was it worth trying to search Akasha again for more information? He could only do it for short periods at a time because of the terrible headaches it gave him. But that was the price he paid for being permanently online to Akasha.

When he was first assigned to EnmaCho, he had also been specially selected to work for Akasha. Only the most brilliant minds were chosen for such a task. Akasha stored the combined wisdom of the human race through the ages - a huge reservoir of information from every field of human endeavour. As Chief Researcher of the classified Five Senses Project, he was in charge of cataloging, classifying and cross-referencing the data into an accessible database for JuOhCho. A direct link to Akasha had been inserted into his brain, allowing him to use his significant intellectual capacity to sort the terabytes of information twenty-hours a day, seven days a week. No matter where he was, no matter what he was doing, any residual brainpower he possessed would be harnessed by Akasha.

Some within the project accused him of selling his mind. They were just jealous, of course - jealous that their minds were not capable of withstanding a direct link. Overload a human mind too much, and the resulting short-circuit would lead to memory loss at best, insanity at worst. But he had managed it better than most. All he experienced was the occasional headache - a side-effect that haunted him to this day.

Watari rubbed his temples. He no longer served Akasha day and night, but the link was still there - ready to be reactivated on demand. Once connected, he was online for good. Akasha was a demanding mistress.

003 hooted at him. When he didn't notice, she scratched the uppermost book on the pile with her talons.

"Hey, hey! Stop that!" Watari swept her off with his hand. "Books are precious! You ought to know better!"

003 easily evaded him. She fluttered up, then settled on his shoulder.

Watari picked the book up. "How could you damage the cover like that? Geez, look at these scratches. Shame on you, 003!"

003 hooted loudly in reply.

"Well, lucky for you this Bible is pretty old, and the leather was pretty wrinkled to start with..."

Watari's voice faded off. He looked down at the anagram, then up at the blackboard: 3 22 LUX. Then his gaze went to the Bible in his hand.

"Of course! The Bible!" He opened up the Bible and flicked wildly through its pages. "The answer could be right here! 003, you little beauty! You're a genius!"

003 nuzzled his ear, then went back to preening herself.

Gushoshin Younger hummed and hawed and stalled as best he could, but he was a poor liar. It didn't take long for Hisoka to prise the truth out of him.

"Damn Tsuzuki! Damn him! Why didn't he tell me Muraki was appearing in his dreams?"

"Well..." Floating before him, Gushoshin Younger looked sheepishly at the ground. "He didn't want you to worry-"

"What rubbish! I'm going to wring Tsuzuki's neck the next time I see him!" Hisoka hurled his empty can in a nearby trashbin. "So you remember nothing after Muraki dazzled you with that knockout spell?"

The bird spirit nodded. "Uh huh. The next thing I knew, it was morning and I was lying in Tsuzuki's bed. I didn't even recall being knocked out until my memory came back two days later."

Hisoka ran impatient fingers through his hair. "So how could you go along with it? How could you say nothing? You're no better than everyone else in the Shoukanka! You've all been keeping me in the dark!"

"I did warn Tsuzuki-san! I warned him that Shinigami should work in pairs! But he wanted to take care of it himself, because he wasn't sure how you'd handle seeing Muraki again."

"Look, I can handle Muraki just fine!"

"Then...you're not haunted by Muraki's curse anymore?" Gushoshin asked hopefully.

Hisoka stiffened. Without thinking, he pulled his jacket around him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Tsuzuki-san mentioned you act weird around him..."

"When was I weird? I was fine aboard the Queen Camellia! I won Tsuzuki back from him in that stupid poker game, didn't I?" He pushed away the memories of the nightmares and the glowing curse marks - bad as they were, they hadn't affected his work performance one bit. "And during the Kyoto assignment, wasn't I the one who took care of Tsuzuki after he drank himself into an intoxicated stupor?"

"Yes, you did," Gushoshin Younger agreed meekly.

"If anything, he's the one who needs looking after! So why does he insist on mollycoddling me? Why does he think he has to protect me whenever Muraki's..." Hisoka stopped in mid-sentence, his mind racing. "Dammit! That bastard! That's what he's doing to me right now!"

"Huh?"

Hisoka shoved his notepad and pen in his pocket. "Making me interview these patients was an excuse to keep me out of the way! I bet he's gone off on his own to find Muraki! We have to find him fast! Can you contact your brother, Gushoshin?"

Gushoshin Younger nodded. "I'll get onto it at once, Hisoka-san." He shut his eyes and focused his spiritual power. As twin brothers, the Gushoshin were capable of communicating telepathically - that was what made them such an efficient team in the library. But when he opened his eyes, he was anxious. "He's not responding. It's like he's not able to hear me."

"He must be in trouble." Meaning Tsuzuki was as well. "Can you locate him?"

"You bet, Hisoka-san. I can sense his spiritual presence anywhere."

A truck rumbled past, shielding them from the view of ordinary people going about their everyday business. When the truck was gone, they had vanished.

They tracked Gushoshin Elder to the park outside one of Nagasaki's major hospitals. He remained perched on the armrail of a park bench, staring into space.

"Elder brother! Elder brother!" Gushoshin Younger flew towards him. "Oh no! What have they done to-" Without warning, he collided with thin air and ricocheted off. "Arrgh!"

Hisoka dived to one side to catch him. "Hey! What just happened?"

"A barrier! There's a spiritual barrier around him!"

The two of them approached the bench. Hisoka gingerly reached out a hand. "Gushoshin Elder? Can you hear me?"

No response. The bird spirit's eyes were glazed and unblinking.

Hisoka reached out a little more. An invisible force sent him staggering backwards.

"Damn!" He rubbed his sore hand. "It's strong!"

"It's not just a barrier spell." Gushoshin Younger fluttered around his brother, wringing his winged hands. "He's in some kind of trance. Someone must have cast a spell on him, then placed the barrier around him. What are we going to do?"

Hisoka walked around the bench without encountering the barrier. He touched the far armrail - nothing. Gingerly he sat down on the bench as far as possible from Gushoshin Elder - nothing.

"Wow! This barrier must be small!"

Hisoka picked up some gravel. He tossed some of it under the bench beneath Gushoshin Elder - nothing. He tossed some of it over Gushoshin Elder's head - nothing. He tossed the rest straight at Gushoshin Elder, and ducked as stones flew in all directions. "Yeah, which means it's going to be tough to break through it without injuring him." He dusted his hands. "But I'll give it my best shot." He reached in his jacket for an attack fuda.

Gushoshin Younger hovered in front of his brother, blocking Hisoka's way. "Wait, Hisoka-san! Isn't there another way?"

"No, unless whoever created this barrier dissolves the spell for us." Hisoka stepped past him, fuda raised at the ready.

A sudden gust of wind blew behind them both. It ripped the paper charm from his fingers and sent it flying.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Two meddlesome twits for the price of one."

Hisoka whirled around. "Muraki! I knew you had a hand in this!"

Dressed in his customary white trenchcoat and suit, Muraki stood before him. The wind blew his silver hair off his forehead, revealing the eerie false eye. The tails of his coat flapped around his legs. "More than a hand, I should think," he replied mildly. "Do you require any assistance in releasing your avian colleague?"

"No! I wouldn't ask your help if you were the last person alive!" Hisoka ignored Gushoshin Younger's look of alarm. "Where's Tsuzuki? What have you done with him?"

"Why do you ask? Have you misplaced him somewhere?" Muraki sauntered to the end of the park bench opposite the dazed Gushoshin Elder and took a seat. "Tsk tsk. What a careless partner you are."

"Don't mess with me! I know he's been investigating you on his own! You've been planting dreams in his mind so that he'd come after you! You're manipulating him in the same way you used to manipulate me!"

"Why, don't tell me you're jealous, boy? Do you miss seeing me in your dreams? Would you like to relive our romantic moonlit encounter beneath the sakura tree?"

"Shut up!" Horrible memories flashed through Hisoka's mind: being stripped of his clothes, lying helpless on the ground. "I'm not your puppet anymore! I'm not a doll for you to use - and neither is Tsuzuki!" He pulled out another attack fuda from his jacket. "Now tell me where he is or be prepared to fight!"

"Fight? With you? Hmph." Muraki regarded him with the same patience a long-suffering parent might give a toddler having a tantrum. "What will that achieve? If I defeat you, I certainly won't tell you. In the unlikely event that you defeat me, I doubt I'd be in a condition to tell you." He shook his head, chuckling to himself. "Actually, I doubt Tsuzuki-san would want to be seen in his current state."

Disgust rose within Hisoka. "What the hell have you done to him? If you've harmed him in any way, I swear I'll-"

"Tsk! Temper, temper." Muraki held up a silencing finger. "Allow me to propose an alternative arrangement for you to retrieve Tsuzuki-san - one that will be less troublesome for all parties concerned."

Hisoka didn't lower the fuda an inch. "What?" he spat out.

Muraki's gaze slid over him with slow and deliberate intent. It made Hisoka's skin crawl. No...surely Muraki couldn't be after...

"Your body in exchange for your partner's." Muraki smiled, well aware of Hisoka's loathing. " Allow me to reacquaint myself with your pliant young body for old times' sake, and I swear to return Tsuzuki-san back to your side."

Note: The references to Watari and the Akasha supercomputer come from the Kamakura arc in YnM vol12.