Muraki's gaze narrowed. The pencil snapped in his fingers. In his other hand he held the Bible in a white-knuckled grip.

Tsuzuki's anxious gaze darted from Muraki to Watari. What did Muraki have to hide? And why was Watari exuding such an air of smug superiority about it? "If you know what it means, Watari, just tell me."

"And spoil the surprise?" Watari's brown eyes sparkled with mirth. "No way! It's much more fun if you look it up for yourself." He sat on the sofa, waiting for the fireworks to start.

Fun for whom? Watari was obviously toying with them for his own amusement. Whose side was he really on?

Sensing Tsuzuki's doubt, Muraki approached him. "The engineer possesses a unique gift, doesn't he? I doubt there is anyone else within Meifu who has the ability to make inanimate drawings come to life. Have you ever wondered who granted him such a gift - and what kind of spiritual energy is behind it?" He held out the broken pieces of the pencil in the palm of his hand.

The two fragments were alive, squirming and writhing like twin worms. As Tsuzuki watched, the broken ends found each other, fused together, and straightened to form an intact pencil once more.

"Wood energy - the energy of life. I should've known." He turned to Watari. "Did EnmaDaiOh give this to you?"

"Enma gives, and Enma can just as easily take away." Watari's easy humour was gone, replaced by grave seriousness. "We Shinigami owe everything we are to EnmaDaiOh. Even you."

"Indeed." Muraki sneered. He eyed Watari with open contempt. "So you take pride in your position as Enma's prized pet? Are you content to harvest human souls at his bidding and betray your own kind?"

"So what if I am?" Watari retorted. "You of all people are in no position to judge me. How many times have you sought to increase your power by draining the spiritual energy of your human victims?" He combed an errant lock of blond hair behind his ear. "All I've done is throw my lot in with a master of the craft."

"Then you know," Tsuzuki murmured. "You know where this Wood energy comes from. You know what use Enma has for human souls." The vestige of hope he harboured was blown away. "Who else in the Shoukanka knows?"

Watari ran an idle hand through his wavy long hair. "None of them have a clue except Chief Konoe. The old man's been around long enough to have some idea." His movements dislodged something at the unbuttoned collar of his shirt - a black leather cord around the base of his throat. Hanging from it was a single feather of pure gold.

"Well, well." Muraki exhaled sharply. "So you show your true colours at last."

Tsuzuki stared. "What is that?"

"My protective amulet." Watari held it out for inspection. "Do you like it?"

"It's also an identification tag," Muraki explained. "The sight of it will send any demon into terrified retreat." He placed a restraining hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "After all, who would dare harm Enma's appointed gold raven?"

So this was Kinu - the mythical bird who embodied the power of the sun, the eyes and ears of JuOhCho's supercomputer.

"I've chosen my destiny of my own free will." Watari's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "Unlike you."

Muraki's nails dug into Tsuzuki's shoulder. "At least my mind remains my own, which is more than could be said of yours."

Tsuzuki's bewildered glance darted from one man to the other. "What do you mean?" he asked Muraki. "Are you saying Watari...isn't really Watari?" He looked at Watari closely. He didn't appear any different - yet there was a chilly aloofness in his gaze, and the smile that curved his lips now seemed more mocking than cheerful.

Muraki led Tsuzuki back to the armchair. "You can ask him yourself - but you can see the difference already. Like you, the engineer is a man of many faces."

Tsuzuki sat down. This news was not entirely surprising. He had suspected it for a while. "Are you Kinu?" he asked Watari.

Watari shrugged. "It's not really my place to say. It would be presumptuous of me to claim such a grand title for myself."

"Spare us the false modesty." Seated on the arm of Tsuzuki's chair, Muraki lounged over the backrest like a leopard guarding its prize. "We know what you are. Your amulet proves it. You've been appointed by Enma to be his pet songbird - his candidate for the position of Gold Raven. But you have no Sun energy of your own. Without your charmed feather, no demon would give you a second glance."

"Then it's lucky for me that demons aren't to my taste," Watari quipped.

"Gushoshin Elder told me a little about Kinu," Tsuzuki said. "He said no one had ever seen his face, and he was supposed to be all-knowing and wise, and as brilliant as the sun." Tsuzuki leaned forward, searching for signs of those qualities in Watari's features.

Watari sat up, hand placed under his chin in a classic thinker's pose. "Do I pass muster?"

Muraki scowled at being upstaged. He placed a hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder, and stroked his thumb along the nape of Tsuzuki's neck.

"Err..." Tsuzuki stiffened against the caress. "Well...if that's true..." He shook off Muraki's hand and let out a nervous laugh. "If that's true, then there's no way you're Kinu!"

"No way?" Watari was visibly deflated by the news.

"I mean, look at yourself! You're more like a mad scientist than a wise man!" He turned to Muraki. "One time he even tried to formulate a sex-change potion and-"

Muraki raised a brow. "A what?"

"A sex-change potion, and it was a complete flop! When he and I drank it, we were transformed into kids! Now if Watari really was Kinu, wouldn't he have figured out how to make a proper sex-change potion?"

"I suppose." Muraki eyed Tsuzuki curiously. "But why on earth did you drink it in the first place?"

"Because he asked me to. He needed a subject to test it."

"Did you want to undergo a sex change?"

"Oh no! Definitely not! Not permanently, anyway." Tsuzuki flushed. "Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to..."

"To what?"

"Well...to have...you know." Tsuzuki cupped the empty space in front of his chest with both hands to demonstrate.

"No, never." Muraki stared down at Tsuzuki's groping hands, then back up to Tsuzuki's sheepish face. "Your tastes are evidently far more kinky than mine."

"No way! You're the kinky one! What kind of person hires prostitutes as after-dinner entertainment, anyway?"

Muraki indicated a wide-eyed Watari with an incline of his head. "Tsuzuki-san, please. Not in front of our guest."

"Prostitutes? What were you both doing with prostitutes?" Watari demanded. "Were you having an orgy? What did you do? Did you take any pic-"

"Nothing happened!" Tsuzuki shouted. "We did nothing with them! I kicked them out before anything could happen!"

"It appears Tsuzuki-san prefers to grope his own breasts than fondle someone else's," Muraki remarked.

"Enough! Drop the subject!" Flustered, Tsuzuki turned to Watari. "Why are you going along with EnmaDaiOh's scheme against humanity? Why are you turning your back on the human race?"

"I'm not turning my back on anything. If anything, I'm recycling a valuable resource." Watari tossed his head, blond hair cascading over his shoulder. "A human, once dead, has no further use for their soul. Either it just floats away into the ether or it ends up bound to the material world as a ghost driven by a grudge of some kind. By gathering them together, EnmaDaiOh is giving them something all humans have sought - a meaning to life. Or in this case, the afterlife."

Tsuzuki recognized the sentiment all too well. It was why he first joined the Shoukanka as a Shinigami. He had always longed to find a purpose to his own wretched existence. "So is that why you've aligned yourself with EnmaDaiOh? Do you find meaning in watching him drain human souls to generate Wood energy?"

Watari shook his head, chuckling. "I've got no use for any energy, Wood or otherwise. Spiritual energy doesn't interest me." He flashed a disdainful look Muraki's way. "I'm no vampiric parasite."

Muraki came to his feet in one lithe movement. "How virtuous you sound," he sneered. "But would you still serve Enma with such loyalty without unlimited access to the vast JuOhCho supercomputer network? Are you so sure you can survive being offline, free from its addictive hold on your consciousness?"

Watari lifted his chin. "As administrator, I organise the database and keep the network running smoothly."

"Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week? Why must you do all the work yourself? Surely you could come up with suitable software to perform such menial tasks in your place?" Muraki took a step toward him. "Unless you can't go offline because you can't live without the instant gratification of JuOhCho's encrypted network."

Watari didn't answer. He put a hand to his head as if he had a splitting headache.

"Instant gratification?" Tsuzuki asked, mystified. "What do you mean?"

"JuOhCho's network is overseen by a sole administrator who determines the privileges of the other users - a position of considerable responsibility." He turned back to Watari, false eye glowing. "So what is it like to have the total wealth of human knowledge at your fingertips? Do you get a thrill out of being sole gatekeeper? Do you relish the nuggets of wisdom gleaned from the dying as they drew their last breath? Do you revel in knowing the secrets of the dead, secrets they hoped to carry with them to the grave?"

"Arrgh!" Watari clutched his head. "It hurts..." He doubled over, blond hair falling over his face. "I can't take it any longer...make it stop!"

"Why should I? Isn't it time Tsuzuki-san knew the truth about you?" Standing over Watari, Muraki was clearly enjoying his discomfort. "So how does it feel to be responsible for such a vast resource? Does having that wealth of information all to yourself fill the gnawing sense of inadequacy you've carried with you all your life?"

"Please..." Watari was trembling uncontrollably. "Make it stop!"

Tsuzuki grabbed Muraki by the arm. "Enough, Muraki. You've said enough."

"Hardly. I was just getting started." Muraki's grey eyes remained cold and ruthless. "He is not the friendly colleague you once knew. That was merely a guise he wore for the purpose of passing himself off as a normal Shinigami. Isn't it time you saw him for what he really is?"

Watari crouched on the floor in a foetal position, knees bent to his chest, hands pulling at his hair. "The pain...is unbearable," he whimpered. "Make it stop!"

"I've seen enough. I don't want him to suffer like this." Tsuzuki shook Muraki by the arm. "I don't know what you're doing to him, but whatever it is-"

"Don't you?" Muraki's sinister smile sent shivers down Tsuzuki's spine. "Have you ever wondered how the engineer is constantly online to the supercomputer network, no matter how far he is from EnmaCho?"

Tsuzuki frowned. "I guess he must use a device of some kind...like a mobile phone...or a laptop with wireless modem..."

"Exactly. He uses a modem, but he has no need for a cumbersome external device. No, a professional of his calibre communicates directly with the network via an intracranial neural interface."

"Intracranial..." The truth dawned on Tsuzuki with horrible clarity. The modem - composed of computer chips and metal circuits - was lodged inside Watari's head. And Muraki was an expert in manipulating Metal...

He seized the lapels of Muraki's coat. "All right! You've made your point! Stop using your Metal power to torture him!"

"Very well." The light in Muraki's false eye winked out.

Watari's whimpering subsided, to be replaced by heavy gasping breaths. Tsuzuki knelt by his side.

"Save your pity." Muraki seated himself in the armchair vacated by Tsuzuki and crossed his legs. "He consented to undergo the surgery to insert the bionic modem implant. All I did was mimic what happens when the level of network traffic exceeds his brain's ability to process it."

Tsuzuki studied Watari's pale face and sweaty brow. "Is that true?"

Watari nodded. "It...it was the most convenient way...to maintain connectivity to Akasha." Using Tsuzuki as a support, he tried to stand up but collapsed in an ungainly heap.

"Akasha?" Tsuzuki repeated. It sounded like a woman's name. "Is that someone you know?"

"It's the name I gave the network," Watari explained. "Akasha is the Sanskrit word for 'aether.'"

"How appropriate," Muraki remarked. "Early physicists considered aether to be the fifth element that propagated electromagnetic and sound waves. So while Enma hoards human souls to distill Wood energy, you harness human memories to create your very own 'Aether.'"

Watari shrugged. "Waste not, want not."

"Why is human knowledge so important to EnmaDaiOh?" Tsuzuki asked. "Why has he created a database of human knowledge in the first place?"

"I'm not his confidante. I wouldn't pretend to comprehend the mind of DaiOh-sama." Watari wiped the sweat from his brow. "But I have a sneaking suspicion that on some level, the inhabitants of Meifu have always been intrigued by the ways of humans. They've been observing us for millenia, you know. I suppose they have a vested interest in our survival."

"Oh." Tsuzuki couldn't help feeling disappointed. He had hoped Watari would have more insights into EnmaDaiOh's plans for humanity. "Then what about you? You're not stupid - you're an educated man with a university degree! You could simply look up information in the library...or figure things out yourself using your intellect or performing experiments! You've got enough brains of your own!"

"Well," Watari flashed him a lopsided smile, "you do have a point. But there's one paradox I discovered during my many years of education: the more I learn, the less I know."

"Huh? That doesn't make sense."

"I've always had a burning curiosity to understand how things work. It's what fuelled my interest in science. But I found that the more I studied, the more difficult it became to keep track of what I had already learned a few weeks, months, years ago. I had to constantly revise just to keep on top of things. I became a hamster on the treadmill of knowledge - constantly running just to stay still. Eventually I came to the conclusion that the real problem was the limited capacity of the human mind." Watari looked up at Muraki. "Isn't that so, Doctor?"

Muraki didn't answer. His hostile gaze zeroed in on the sight of Tsuzuki's arm around Watari's shoulder as he helped Watari to the sofa and sat beside him.

"But having a modem implanted in your head is going too far, Watari! I mean, how do you know it's safe? It might be damaging your health without you realising it!"

"Oh, the bionic modem's perfectly safe," Watari assured him. "I've had it for years, you know. It gives me unlimited access to Akasha's vast database. Can you imagine how exhilarating it feels? Every fact and figure known to humanity is virtually at my fingertips - ready to be retrieved at a moment's notice!"

Tsuzuki couldn't see the value in being a human encyclopaedia, let alone imagine how it would feel. But it seemed churlish to say so in the face of Watari's enthusiasm.

Muraki took out a cigarette. "I assume such a rare privilege comes at a commensurate price."

"Of course. I had to sacrifice some cerebral function in return. It was a small price to pay."

Tsuzuki blinked. "You...you sacrificed some of your cerebral function?"

"Nothing that important - just the long-term memories of my old life. It's not like I'll need them anymore."

"What?" Tsuzuki spluttered. "Are...are you crazy?"

Watari frowned. "No. The link shouldn't affect my sanity, if that's what you're worried about."

"But...but to give up the memories of your past - your life in the land of the living! What person in their right mind would agree to that?"

"Why not? I don't need that old baggage any longer. Now I rely on Akasha. She provides me with an infinitely vast and much more reliable memory bank!"

"Fascinating," Muraki murmured. He lit his cigarette and took a long drag. "From what you've described, your bionic modem must have compromised your episodic memory. I'm guessing it's lodged somewhere in the fronto-temporal lobe of your brain."

"That's right! Some of the neocortex had to be resected so it could fit inside my skull. But don't worry - my cognitive abilities remain perfectly intact."

Tsuzuki was too appalled to speak.

"Really?" Muraki drawled. To Tsuzuki, he explained in a low voice, "Impaired judgement and an inability to feel remorse or regret for one's decisions are typical signs of frontal lobe damage."

Tsuzuki felt sick to the stomach. Painful memories of his own experience as a human guinea pig came flooding back - the helplessness, the isolation...and the soul-crushing knowledge that no one cared if he lived or died. "When exactly did you get this...this implant?"

"After I passed the preliminary assessment to be an employee in EnmaCho. My extremely high aptitude scores made me an ideal candidate to be Chief Engineer to Akasha. A person of lesser intellect would go insane from the information overload."

Tsuzuki frowned. "So you were already in Meifu, but you weren't officially appointed as a Shinigami at the time?"

"Nah, not officially. I had the modem inserted before."

"A Shinigami's recuperative power would present a major impediment to surgery," Muraki pointed out.

"Exactly." Watari combed a stray lock of blond hair from his forehead. "My body would've rejected the implant if I was a Shinigami."

On close inspection, Tsuzuki could just make out the ugly thickened scar tissue beneath Watari's long hair. It curled out to the hairline of his right temple, then back behind his ear. It was a sign that Watari would never regain complete function after the operation. The incision wound may be healed, but the internal damage would be permanent and irreversible.

The sight of it filled him a seething, impotent fury that propelled him to his feet.

"Is that all the brain is to you - the seat of the intellect and a memory bank of facts? What about emotions, memories, consciousness and will? What about personality and character, hopes and dreams, fears and foibles - all those traits that make you the person you are? Aren't they just as important?"

Watari blinked, bemused. "Well, I guess, but-"

"But nothing! By vandalising your brain, you're in danger of altering yourself! You risk changing something fundamental in your very nature - something that helps to make you who you are! Do you think so little of yourself that you'd sacrifice your nature...to be what? A mobile extension of a computer network?"

Muraki listened on in pensive silence, the cigarette held between his lips. Smoke wafted from his flared nostrils - the only obvious sign of movement.

"Not any computer network," Watari reminded him. "Akasha is the queen of computer networks. I can access her infinitely large memory banks when I've forgotten some chemical formula, mathematical equation...or even when I've misplaced my glasses. I don't have to depend on my own forgetful memory as long as I have a higher power to guide me. She is the one who makes me all-knowing and wise." His face lit up in a beatific smile. "So you see, Tsuzuki - the sacrifice I had to make was minimal in comparison. There are many others who would willingly sacrifice a lot more than their fronto-temporal lobe to link up to the mind of God."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this." Tsuzuki shook his head and paced the room. "Listen to yourself, Watari. What sane person would think a glorified network database is equivalent to...to God? Face it, this modem has ruined your judgement and is probably eroding what's left of your sanity!"

"I agree," Muraki agreed as he tapped ash from his cigarette. "He sounds as if he's suffering from grandiose delusions."

Tsuzuki turned on him in frustration. "Don't just sit there! You're the surgeon! If you know where the implant is, you can remove it!"

"Flattered as I am by your faith in my abilities, I'm no neurosurgeon. Besides, the engineer now has a Shinigami's recuperative power so I doubt I could make a difference in any case." He held up Watari's pencil. "But I'm not the only one here with the healing touch, am I?"

Tsuzuki took it. The pencil came to life, stretching and twisting between his fingers. Branches and small leaves sprouted along its length.

Watari's jaw dropped. He was transfixed by the sight.

"Wood's regenerative power is the energy of life itself. It can heal all living things. As Guardian of Wood, you alone have the power to restore and make him whole." Noticing Watari's awestruck expression, Muraki said, "Why are you so surprised? Despite what you may have been told, Enma doesn't have a monopoly on Wood."

Tsuzuki gazed down at the pencil-branch twining itself lovingly around his fingers. "You've never seen EnmaDaiOh do this?"

"No, never. He rarely reveals himself, let alone his power."

"No doubt he prefers to conceal the true extent of his power in shadows," Muraki retorted. "I would expect nothing less of the Kagetsu master."

How odd. Was EnmaDaiOh only interested in Kagetsu power - the Yin manifestation of Wood? What about Wood energy itself? Maybe the ruler of Meifu, a being who had never known the physical limitations of a mortal, saw no use for healing and regeneration.

"Shadows don't interest me." Tsuzuki caressed the newly-formed branch, soothing and calming it to a twitching, trembling quiescence. "I've hidden myself for too long."

"Yes, you have," Muraki agreed. "But now you have awakened. The time has come for you to use your power. We have been deprived of Wood's regenerative energy for too long." He came to his feet and stood beside Tsuzuki. "You've seen it work on objects of plant origin. Imagine what it can do for other creatures - living and non-living alike." He glanced meaningfully across at Watari.

Was it possible? Could he really use his Wood energy to extract the implant and make Watari whole again?

"What are you both staring at?"

"Watari..." Tsuzuki tried to choose his words with care. "Do you have any regrets about having the bionic modem?"

"What regrets? Having the modem implanted in my brain has made me a better person! It's enhanced my intelligence, increased my long-term memory-"

"And ruined your decision-making and judgement," Muraki retorted.

"Rubbish! I wanted to have the procedure. I don't even notice it's there anymore-"

"Really?" Muraki's voice was mocking. "Not even the headaches?"

"I know how to handle them. They don't last long," Watari said defensively. "Akasha gets over-excited sometimes. But I assure you, the benefits far outweigh the occasional inconvenience. I have no regrets."

"Then why hide the surgical scar?" Tsuzuki asked. "You grow your hair long to cover it up. If you've got no regrets, why hide it from everyone in the Shoukanka?"

Watari lowered his gaze. "I know they wouldn't understand. They'd accuse me of selling my body and soul to Akasha." He shrugged. "I've been subjected to this kind of prejudice before. Others view me as a traitor against my own kind...and perhaps I am."

Tsuzuki approached him. "I have some idea what it's like to be ostracised for being different - the loneliness, the shame. But I can use my power to help you."

Watari froze. "How?"

"I'll try to rid you of the implant. I'll use my power to repair the damage it's done to your brain."

"You mean...you want to use your Wood energy on me?" Watari stared disbelievingly at Tsuzuki. "But why?"

"Why not?" Tsuzuki replied simply.

"Because I..." Watari's eyes glistened with unshed tears. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed them away. "I don't deserve it."

"Don't be so silly." Tsuzuki's smile was gentle and warm. He held out his hands, palms outstretched in welcome.

Watari stared at Tsuzuki's hands. His expression was part fear, part terrified hope.

Standing back behind Tsuzuki, Muraki watched and waited like a hawk. His face was an unreadable mask.

"You've got nothing to fear," Tsuzuki reassured him. "I'm not here to judge you."

Watari shook himself, as if rousing from a trance. "I know." He put his glasses back on. "I've been judged already. I can't accept your offer."

"Don't you want to regain the function you've lost?" Tsuzuki reached out towards him.

"No!" Watari shrank away. "I don't want to lose my link to Akasha! Without it I'm nothing!"

"What are you talking about? That link has damaged your brain! All I want to do is restore your memories and make you whole again!"

"No, no!" Watari scrambled out of the sofa. "I don't want to be healed! I don't want to remember!" There was a hysterical note in his voice. "Please, whatever you do, don't make me remember!"

"All right, Watari. It's all right." Tsuzuki lowered his hands. "What don't you want to remember?"

"I...I don't know. I...can't remember." A hysterical chuckle escaped Watari's lips. "All I know is I never want my memories back."

"How ironic." Muraki let out a derisive snort. "He prides himself on his electronically enhanced memory database even as he blinds himself to the truth about his own life."

"It makes no sense, Watari. How can you be scared of something you can't remember?"

Watari rubbed his forehead, automatically touching his healed scar. "I don't know. All I know is the idea of regaining my memories terrifies me."

"Your hypocrisy is mind-boggling," Muraki murmured. "You trawl through the memories of others courtesy of Enma, yet you prefer to remain in ignorant darkness about your own."

"I...I must've had a good reason for agreeing to extract my memories in the first place! Nothing good can come out of having them back - I'm sure of it."

"Look at him," Muraki told Tsuzuki. "Pitiful, isn't he? His fear of the unknown is rooted in ignorance. See how it has transformed him into a man who is afraid of himself? It's all the more reason for you to heal him and restore his mind. Once his memories have been brought to light, his fear will be no more. Knowledge is power - even the engineer cannot argue with that."

"No!" Watari shook his head wildly. "This fear...it's a defence mechanism - a way for me to maintain my sanity. It's my mind's way of telling me that I'm better off not knowing about my former life."

Tsuzuki was torn. He wanted to use his power to heal Watari - but how could he when Watari was so opposed to the idea?

"You understand, don't you?" Watari turned to Tsuzuki, brown eyes wide in appeal. "Haven't you ever been so consumed with shame and remorse over a deed you wish you could undo?"

Tsuzuki nodded. He certainly had - many more times than he cared to remember.

"You see? Our lives are filled with actions we regret - but it's impossible for us mere mortals to go back in time to set things right. We have to live with our mistakes, our blunders...and our failures. But some of us are lucky." Bitter cynicism edged his voice. "Some have the power to impose a selective amnesia over their minds and wipe the slate clean, effectively absolving themselves of all responsibility for the past."

Tsuzuki flinched at the resentment in Watari's eyes. "I...I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. Although your powers have awakened, you have walled off the memories of your past. It was the only way you could retain your sanity against the crimes of your past."

Tsuzuki was stunned at the turnaround in their conversation. "How...do you know all this?"

"How else?" Watari pointed to his right temple with a wry smile. "The memories of all deceased humans are meticulously archived by Akasha - including the memories of your dear mother."

Tsuzuki froze. "Watari, you wouldn't dare-"

"She witnessed you summoning the four elemental shikigami for the first time when you were eighteen."

"No..." Tsuzuki's voice was little more than a horrified whisper. "I don't believe you."

Muraki's sharp-eyed gaze narrowed to dangerous slits. He crushed his half-smoked cigarette in the nearby ashtray.

"As she lay dying, bleeding to death from her wounds, she saw them raze the village to the ground in your name, while the screams of the dying echoed around her and the stench of burning flesh filled the air."

"No!" Tsuzuki covered his ears. He didn't want to remember the events of that terrible day. "Don't say anymore!"

But it was too late. The memories were flooding back. In his mind's eye, he was kneeling on the bare ground, gasping for breath. The angry mob had already hunted down his mother and sister. And they were now closing on him with their barking dogs and burning torches.

The superstitious villagers, fuelled by envy and prejudice, had taken everything from him. His family. His home. The gardens his family had lovingly tended were now on fire.

Everything he loved - all gone.

"The lynch mob showed her no mercy," Watari continued. "They struck her with stones. They bludgeoned her with picks and shovels. They stomped and kicked her where she lay on the ground-"

"Enough! No more!" Tsuzuki's voice was barely audible above his muffled sobs. "I don't have to listen to this!"

"They did the same to your sister, but at least for her the end was quick. One vicious blow to the head was enough to crack her skull open."

Tears rolled down Tsuzuki's cheeks. He abandoned them in their hour of need. He was responsible for their deaths. He was evil, cowardly, a creature worthy of nothing but scorn. He was a harbinger of doom who brought death and misfortune to all he met. His very existence was an abomination. Was it any wonder that the villagers wanted him dead?

Monster! Monster!

Their chants echoed in his head. They had been right all along. He was a monster. The only one of his kind in the whole world. There was no one else feared and despised as much as him - was there?

"Okaasan...Ruka...forgive me. It should've been me. If I could turn back time...I would give up my life instead!"

"Your poor mother's death was excruciating in comparison," Watari continued. "She suffered multiple fractures, internal bleeding-" His words were abruptly cut off by a squeal, followed by a series of choking gasps.

Tsuzuki looked up.

Muraki held Watari aloft by the throat, so high that his feet scrabbled in the air. "Be quiet." His low voice held an edge of steely menace. "You have sung more than enough." He tossed Watari aside onto the sofa. "Be thankful I didn't short-circuit your bionic modem and terminate your precious link."

Watari clutched his throat as he gasped for breath. "Isn't this...what you wanted: to awaken...the real Tsuzuki? I thought...I was giving you...a helping hand."

"I don't need your help," Muraki growled. Abruptly he turned on Tsuzuki, false eye glowing. "Do you mean it? Would you prefer to die?"

Tsuzuki blinked away his tears. There was no compassion or sympathy from Muraki - nothing but callous disdain.

"In that case, all you had to do was ask." He lowered his head towards the side of Tsuzuki's neck, his gaze hooded. "As I told you before, I am yours to command." He bared his teeth in a vicious snarl.

"What are you-"

It was too late. Muraki's teeth sank into the juncture of shoulder and neck, through muscle and tendon to major nerves and vessels. This was nothing like the playful nibbles Muraki had inflicted on him during foreplay. This was brutal and savage - the act of a predator latching onto its prey in a lethal grip.

The pain was excruciating. Stunned out of his reverie, Tsuzuki pulled at Muraki's head.

"Let me go! You're hurting me!"

Muraki didn't listen. If anything, his teeth seemed to sink deeper into Tsuzuki's flesh.

Tsuzuki couldn't breathe. The survival instinct overrode all else. "Let me go, Muraki!" He writhed and squirmed, his nails clawing Muraki's scalp and face. An agonizing jolt of pain sizzled down his arm, across his back - threatening to tear his body apart. "I...I don't want to die! Let me go! I don't want to die!"

Two bony appendages erupted from his back. Piercing the fabric of his clothes, they swung up and out, flapping wildly. Black feathers began to sprout along their entire length.

Muraki wrenched himself free, gasping for breath. Blood was smeared across his lips, and more blood dripped from the corners of his mouth, down his jaw. Disordered silver hair fell over his glittering gaze. He was inhuman, treacherous, bloodthirsty - a creature terrifying enough to strike fear in the hearts of men and women.

Tsuzuki retreated, eyes wide, clutching the healing wound at his neck, his wings fluttering nervously behind him. He was a fool to think he could tame Muraki. This man he had let into his heart was a monster - a monster hated by society, who would be shunned and ostracised for failing to conform to society's moral standards.

A monster starved of love and affection. A monster who learned to hide his true nature to find the acceptance he craved.

A monster just like himself.

The predatory gleam in Muraki's gaze went out, leaving behind an emptiness that cut Tsuzuki to the quick. "As you wish." His words were little more than a husky growl as he turned away to wipe his mouth with a handkerchief.

"Wow!" Watari lounged on the sofa, still flat on his back. "No wonder the boy thought Saaga had taken possession of you. I had no idea the black wings were yours all along."

Tsuzuki tucked his wings neatly behind his back. "I wanted him to think that. It seemed easier than explaining the truth."

Muraki managed a derisive snort. "Then he's a fool, and so are the rest of you Shinigami for failing to notice the difference. The demon dog's bat wings pale in comparison to the glossy magnificence of Tsuzuki-san's."

Perhaps Muraki only wanted him for his unsealed power. Perhaps Muraki would never love him for himself. At least Muraki did not fear his dark side - the aspect of his nature he was too ashamed to show the world. Muraki's devotion to him may be rooted in self-interest - but it was devotion all the same. How could he not be unmoved by it?

In the end, it didn't matter if Muraki loved him or not. Muraki needed him, depended upon him. Perhaps it wasn't love, but for Tsuzuki it was close enough.

Tsuzuki extended one wing to bridge the space between them, and allowed the black feathers to drape over Muraki's shoulders. "I don't want to die anymore. I was so caught up in self-pity I thought only of myself. I was being selfish."

"Yes, you were." Muraki wrapped the wingtip around him, pulling Tsuzuki towards him. "You are no use to me dead."

His kiss was brutal and demanding - a punishment of sorts. Tsuzuki's initial uncertainty melted under the onslaught. The lingering sweetness of his own blood in Muraki's mouth made him hungry for more. He pressed himself full-length against Muraki's lean body and grasped Muraki's head to urge him closer.

It was Muraki who withdrew first. He turned to Watari, who was avidly watching them from the sofa. "Leave us. If you don't want to be the beneficiary of Tsuzuki-san's regenerative powers, we have no further use for you."

"Fine then." Watari reluctantly came to his feet. "But don't you think Tsuzuki should know the truth about his father?"

Muraki stiffened. The hand he pressed against Tsuzuki's waist clenched into a fist. Tsuzuki could feel the tension emanating from his body.

"My father is dead." He looked from Muraki's clenched jaw to Watari's knowing smile. "He...he died before I was born."

"Your stepfather, you mean. But what about your true father - your biological father? Haven't you ever wondered about his identity?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tsuzuki tried to ease his way out of Muraki's arms without success. "I've only got one father, but I've never known him. He died before I was born."

"Are you sure?" Watari asked. "Are you sure you've never, ever met him?"

Tsuzuki shook his head. But even as he did so, an image flashed into his mind, vivid and clear - a small boy wobbling as he peered up at him in wonder.

Purple! You have purple eyes like me!

"No..." Tsuzuki shook his head again. "That was just a dream. How can it be a memory if I'm seeing myself..." He turned to Muraki, confused. "It was your doing, wasn't it? You planted that dream in my mind."

Muraki glared across at Watari. "Get out before I throw you out."

A sudden gust of wind swirled around Watari's ankles and steadily moved up his body, making his clothes flap around him. "I see my time is almost up," he remarked cheerfully.

Tsuzuki tugged at the lapel of Muraki's jacket. "Stop it, Muraki. I want to hear him out."

"Never mind," Watari said. The whirlwind enveloped him completely, dislodging his glasses and making his long hair fly about in wild disorder. But he simply chuckled as he wrapped his lab coat around himself with a flourish. "There is a Gospel in the Bible named Luke, which is derived from 'lux,' the Latin word for light."

"Luke," Tsuzuki repeated. "Is the anagram in my dream a reference to the Bible?"

Watari nodded. The whirlwind was whipping around him with a ferocity that made it difficult for him to speak aloud, yet it left the rest of the room untouched. "Use the numbers to find...chapter and verse. You'll find it...most enlightening." He smiled as he dematerialised before them.

"Watari!" Tsuzuki broke out of Muraki's arms. He went to the spot where Watari had stood. The air was still - the whirlwind was gone as well. "What have you done to him?" he demanded of Muraki.

"Nothing. He finally took flight of his own accord. I merely helped him on his way." Muraki shrugged off his trenchcoat and threw it on the sofa. "As you can see, the engineer is Enma's candidate for the title of Gold Raven. But he possesses no true Sun energy within him. He is just a pretender - the latest in a long line."

"What happened to the others?"

"The same thing that happens to any creature who dares to fly too close to the sun - they tumble back to earth, their wings singed beyond repair." Muraki loosened his tie, his hungry gaze fixed firmly on Tsuzuki.

Tsuzuki returned his gaze. He was determined not to be distracted by Muraki's sex appeal this time. "Where's that Bible? I need to look up something."

"No, you don't." Muraki tossed the tie aside and began working at the buttons of his shirt.

"Yes, I do. If that anagram is a Biblical quote, then I need to know what it means." He searched the armchair, then the sofa. If Lux referred to Luke, then 3 and 22 could certainly be chapter and verse numbers. "Where did you put it?"

Muraki grasped a black wingtip to halt Tsuzuki's progress. "Come here."

Tsuzuki flapped his wing free. "Then tell me what the anagram means: LUX, 3, 22."

"It means nothing of importance." Muraki stepped towards Tsuzuki and nuzzled his ear.

"But I saw it in my dream - a dream you planted in my mind! How can you say it's not important if you're the one who put it there?"

Muraki hesitated mid-nuzzle.

"Unless...it wasn't you?" Tsuzuki pulled away so he could see Muraki's face. "But...you know about my dreams. You must, because I've seen you in some of them. That's why I came after you to begin with. I thought the dreams were some kind of telepathic message from you - a clue that would lead me to you. Which it did."

Muraki avoided his gaze. "I am no dream caster. Victims of my curses may see me in dreams, but that is merely a byproduct of the curse. How on earth could someone with my miniscule power place a curse on the Guardian of Wood?" Muraki stared into the distance, his expression remote. "As the seal gradually lifts from your mind, it's inevitable that you will regain the memories of your past."

"But they aren't memories - not all of them, anyway! In one of the dreams, I saw my mother as a young woman, mourning the death of her husband! And in another, I saw her viewing the full moon with me and my sister when we were young children! So they can't be my memories of her! If anything, these memories belong to someone else...someone who knew her before I was born." Tsuzuki's voice fell away to a hushed whisper as the realisation hit home. "No, it can't be..."

Muraki closed his eyes. He looked like a condemned man awaiting his sentence.

"But my father is dead! He's been dead for years! I've never seen him or heard from him all my life! He's never been there for me, ever!" He shook Muraki by the shoulders. "Watari is lying about my father, isn't he? Isn't he?"

Muraki did not speak. He opened his eyes - both false and true - to reveal glowing red slits.

It's been a long time between updates. I'm so sorry about this. Real life has been getting in the way, plus it took me a long time to figure out how to write Watari. I was trying to flesh out the background that's only hinted at in Kamakura arc (manga vol12), which is hard because it's a side of Watari we never really see. So if it does seem OOC, then yeah, I agree - it's more my extrapolation of his character based on events in the manga.