Epilogue
Muraki
"K-Kurosaki-kun?" I blink, and look to the boy's partner. "Tsuzuki-san?" I must still be asleep.
There's a stunned and awkward silence.
"May we come in?" The boy's the first to recover from the shock. His fingers grip the arched back of the chair nervously.
"Of course." I look at them, wondering what brings them to the proverbial lion's den. Well, it's not quite so cushy yet, I suppose, but I'll find some bones to strew about the place. Can't quite let the reputation die down just yet.
A little thing such as death shouldn't slow me down. Of course, these are just words; merely theory. In reality, even though my body feels quite wonderful, I'm still tired. Very, very tired.
They bring the chair in and set it down in the middle of the room.
Oddly, it looks less empty now. Well, of course it does, there wasn't anything in here before…but now? There's something more to it than just an object filling a space.
"Someone mind giving me a hand up these stairs?" A familiar voice calls out from outside.
"Oh, there's the chief…" Tsuzuki slips away out the door, leaving the boy and me standing in the main room, studying each other.
I don't realize I'm staring until he looks away.
"Look," he begins. "I…"
"Ah! Here we go!" Tsuzuki's got an ofuda in one hand, and he's coaxing something over to him with his other.
I peek out the door, curious to see what he's bringing.
It's a couch. A very large, very flowery, very upholstered couch. It's as ugly as sin, but looks more than serviceable. The Chief of our division, Konoe, is waving to us from the other side of the couch – he's also got an ofuda in his hand.
I believe they're moving furniture with ofuda magic.
How very unconventional.
"A couch?"
"It's from the Chief!" Tsuzuki beams.
"Ah." I'm still confused.
"Yeah. It's tradition." The boy stares at his feet. "Everyone's supposed to bring you something useful you can use for your house. Everyone did it for me when I came here. I guess we were just the first."
"First?"
"Kazutakasaaaan!" A familiar voice calls out, peeping from behind the couch as Tsuzuki and Konoe maneuver the hulk of furniture through the door. "We're here!" It's Wakaba. Giggling, she ducks under the couch in through the doorway, a dustpan and broom in hand. "Mou, I was hoping we'd be first. But we're here!" She half twirls me around in excitement. "Isn't this exciting? Everyone's coming, even Yuma and Saya!"
"K-Kannuki! Don't leave me carrying everything!" A voice from outside. It's Terazuma.
"Sorry!" She skips back outside to help Terazuma. By this time the couch is in, and Tsuzuki and Konoe are half-collapsed on it, fanning themselves with their respective ofuda.
"Chief, this thing weighs a ton!"
"I moved this all the way here from my house by myself." The older man pants. "I'm getting too old for this."
"Don't leave it in the middle of the room like this. Move it against the wall," the boy directs. "And stop complaining, it's not like you had to even pick it up yourself."
"So mean!" Tsuzuki sniffles.
It's literally chaos. Oddly, it's not significantly different than the office. Just concentrated in a much smaller space.
Wakaba comes back in with Terazuma who's weighed down by several parcels. She starts opening them up for me.
"Here you go, Kazutaka-san! Towels, sheets, dishcloths, ooh, a table cloth, and here's some hand towels and pillow covers…We even brought you a few extra pillows, just in case!"
"Thank you, Wakaba-san." I smile. "This…you didn't have to do this."
"It's okay. These are all things that we don't use anymore." She throws her arms around my neck, giving me a hug. "Welcome to Meifu."
I return her embrace. Such a sweet girl. I'd almost consider courting her myself except…
Well, to start, those eyes of doom that swirl red behind her shoulder. As quickly as I can manage without seeming rude, I disentangle myself from her.
"Terazuma-san. What a pleasure to see you again," I manage awkwardly, offering my hand for a handshake.
He smiles at me toothily. There's more than a hint of a threat in that smile. He takes my hand, and whether it's by his own strength or strength augmented by his Shikigami's powers, his handshake crushes my fingers like a vise. "Glad to see you're getting set up, kid."
"Hajime." Wakaba elbows him. He nearly falls over. "Don't be mean."
"Ow! Okay, okay." He holds up some boxes. "We went digital last year, so I figured you could use a rice cooker. Got a hot water dispenser too."
"Thank you, Terazum-san." I take the boxes into the kitchen. Of course, there's no outlet. I'll have to run in electricity from the living room. Perhaps tomorrow I'll go buy an extension cord.
Behind them, Tsuzuki and Konoe are arguing about the alignment of the couch. There's some highly technical discussion of feng shui going on.
I wonder how anyone ever manages to get anything done around here.
And then, the doorbell rings. It's my partner.
"Tatsumi-san." I hurry to the door to let him in. "Please, come in."
Tatsumi enters, carrying a small potted plant. It's a fern. "Muraki-san." He hands it to me. The pot's still damp, and smells of fresh earth. It's been recently watered and droplets of water cling to the fragile fronds.
"Thank you, Tatsumi-san, it's quite a nice…"
"Please come with me," he says, walking past me toward the bedroom.
I nod and follow him.
He leaves the door open, looking around the room. It's stuffier in here than in the main room and in here too the windows are also stuck shut with paint. Absently, he gestures. A swirl of shadow slices away the paint on the latch and the window swings open gently. The night air is cool, slipping in through the window and chasing the musty odor away.
"It's been a long time since I lived here," Tatsumi says thoughtfully. "Still, very little has changed."
I nod. It would have never occurred to me that someone such as himself would have lived here, even in the past. I suppose that this must be standard housing for new Shinigami. It reminds me strongly of my own student days when such standard housing was provided to resident interns.
"I do have some things for you, but they were too heavy to carry." As he speaks, he gestures, and a pool of shadow begins to form in the center of the bedroom, a slowly widening vortex of black. With a tilt of his fingers, something begins to appear from the floor. Futons - old from the looks of the style of the fabric - but more than serviceable and immaculately clean. For their age, they're well tended; I can certainly see Tatsumi dragging them out twice a year to wash them and dust them out before carefully storing them back to where they belong.
"I've been meaning to give these away for a while, but someone else gave Kurosaki-kun a bed when he came," Tatsumi explains. "I've had a western-style bed for ages…" The way he trails off makes me think that there could be a story to this, but his expression changes. "In any case, I would like you to have these."
"Thank you, Tatsumi-san." I set the fern on the window ledge – I think it will be happy here. "This is more than…"
But he's already wandered out.
Out of sheer curiosity, I unfold one of the futons. Just as I suspect, it's more than big enough for two. I would have thought it was a single, given what I know of Tatsumi, but it's too large.
Well. Isn't that interesting. I save that tidbit of information for later and head back out to the living room.
While I was in the other room Watari arrived, bringing boxes of pots, pans, and dishes, carried by something he called a 'Tomu-Serubou #6.' Fortunately, it's managed not to break anything, and he's left it outside. I get called over to the kitchen where Watari and Wakaba are putting the dishes away. It appears that more than half of it is composed of chemistry glassware – beakers, Erlenmeyer flasks, graduated cylinders…and the memories I have of college chemistry courses with Oriya... Oh my.
"Ah, there you are! Was Tatsumi-san doing anything mean to you back there?" Wakaba winks.
I glance over at Tatsumi, who is raising a sardonic eyebrow. "No, not in the least," I reply.
"Then was it naughty?" She's practically sparkling.
"Definitely not." We both manage to say this at the same time. Damn him.
"He's given me some futons, that's all," I explain with a scowl.
"Oh, Tatsumi-san's bedding!" Wakaba squeaks. "I'm going to look!"
"Me too!" Watari and Wakaba head toward the bedroom. Tatsumi shakes his head.
"Is anyone else curious?" Tatsumi looks around the room, an eyebrow twitching with irritation. The chief nearly jumps as his shadow wavers when Tatsumi glares around the room, but apparently no one is going to comment. Tsuzuki and Hisoka glance at each other, as if wondering who should try to defuse the situation or perhaps, who should run for the door first.
Fortunately, that's when someone comes knocking on the front door.
"We're here!" Two girls? "And we brought dinner!"
"Food!" Tsuzuki leaps off of the couch and over to the girls. They happily hand him packages of takeout, chattering cheerily. To see that smile, it's quite refreshing. I can't help but smiling myself.
And then, they see me.
"Muraki-san, this is…" Tatsumi begins.
But before I can stutter out a greeting, they're on me like a pack of wild…well, wild young girls.
"Oooh, you're the newbie?" One says, walking around me curiously. This one has long, light brown hair tied into two loose locks.
"Wah, so cute! I can't believe you have hair this color…mou, it's so fine…I'm jealous!" Similar hair color, just a bit shorter in length and worn loose.
The two girls look at each other. "PINK HOUSE!"
"Pink House?" I blink. The name's familiar; it sounds like a brand of clothing. Perhaps, I think, I may have seen an advertisement somewhere back in Tokyo…
At that, Wakaba bounds out from the back bedroom. "Yuma-chan! Saya-chan! You made it!"
And then there are three…oof, they've knocked me over.
"A-assistance, please? Tatsumi-sa…help!"
After that, it's all a blur of pink.
Terazuma
The first thing he does after they leave is light up a cigarette. It's a tiny burst of flame in the darkness. Above, the moon is nearly full; only two more nights, Terazuma thinks. He takes a relieved puff; they weren't allowed to smoke inside - Tatsumi's orders - but now that he's managed to extract himself from that deathtrap of girls inappropriately throwing themselves at him to see if they could set off his old reaction, everything is a lot better.
Normally, he would be in a worse mood. After all, he barely got any sleep last night, and has spent almost a full day either chasing or being chased after. But oddly, right now, things are not too bad.
Especially since his free hand is clasping Wakaba's.
For a little while they talk about the events of the evening, about how Yuma and Saya are in town for the week with bi-annual reports, about how the girls managed to get braids in Muraki's hair, about what to do now that Muraki's moved out on his own (Terazuma suggests getting a cat. Wakaba loves this idea.).
But the conversation quickly runs out. The night is too beautiful to mar with idle chatter.
Together, they walk home, silently admiring the cast of the bright moonlight. He makes sure his long strides don't leave her behind. At some point, his cigarette's discarded, left to fade out by itself in the cool night air.
"Ne, Hajime-chan." They're almost home, but she stops beneath the shade of a tall tree. Between the dappled moonlit shadows, a cold white light shines on her face.
"Yeah?" Terazuma half-turns to face her.
"I…I was wondering…" Wakaba turns her head, looking away from him.
Terazuma cringes inside, his fingers getting nervous and twitchy in her grasp. She tightens her hold on his hand.
"W-wondering?" Terazuma's voice cracks. Is it something weird? Why did things get weird? He's nearly trembling, and he doesn't know why. Not even when he regularly faces the monster inside of him would he be half as nervous as hearing her voice with that quiet, oddly sad tone.
"I…I just wanted to know what you're going to do, Hajime. Now that you've found your sister…You did say a long time ago that once you found her then you'd…you know."
"I said what?" Terazuma blinks. He doesn't remember what she's talking about. "What did I say?"
Wakaba's other hand moves to enclose his. "That…once you found out she was all right…that you'd quit."
"Why would I say something so stupi…oh." Terazuma remembers now. It had been early on, when the Shikigami was really a raging beast behind his eyes, before he had learned control and stability. It had been before the archery and the meditation and that mismatched orange eye that glowed fiercely as it came sailing through the air toward him, the icy burn of the ofuda slicing through the transformation…
Wakaba's fingers are cold and shaky.
"Kannuki…Things changed since then." Terazuma begins, awkwardly patting their entwined fingers with his free hand. "I'm not leaving anytime soon. Even though…even though I found Izumi," and it hurts to say it, such a good pain that for a moment, he chokes on the words, "even though I have her back…I'm not completely finished with what's tying me to the world."
"Is…does that mean there's something else?" Wakaba's voice is nearly a whisper, but he can hear it so clearly.
"Yeah." He's glad it's dark so she can't see him blush because he's all shades of red tied up into one. "You." He feels like he's going to melt into a puddle of goo. And oddly, that doesn't feel bad.
"Oh!" And there she goes too, flushed pink. "Hajime-chan!" She embraces him.
And for once, he's not flailing.
Hisoka
"Ow." Muraki winces.
"Don't move, idiot." I'm picking out the braids from his hair. For some reason, the girls (and oh, thank goodness that they've found a new victim to torment, because these last three years have been hell) decided that Muraki's hair was just long enough to look good in little braids.
I'd leave him to his misery, but I actually feel kind of bad for him. After all, most they've ever done to my hair was something involving sparkly hair clips and a lot of gel that I'd rather never think of again. Him…he looks like some sort of small frippy dog that has been attacked by an equally frippy stylist.
I think it's the multicolored bows. Something about them in that silver-pale hair makes me feel something that may resemble pity. It's amazing what those girls travel with.
Anyhow, everyone's basically gone except for Tatsumi, Tsuzuki, and me. Oh, and Muraki, because this is where he's living.
Now that I think about it, I stayed here for about a month or so before I moved on up to the little house I'm renting. Not this exact apartment, of course, but the one on the opposite side of the hallway. I guess every Shinigami's stayed in this building at one time or another.
"Ow!" Muraki scowls when I tug at a particularly tricky braid. "If you can't do it properly, just cut off the…"
"Idiot!" Unthinkingly, I whack him once upside the head. "I told you to sit still!"
I really hate squirmy ukes.
And I just realized I smacked Muraki. Well, how about that?
He's about to say something in retort, but then I can feel the heat of Tsuzuki and Tatsumi's glares as they burn a hole through me toward Muraki.
"Ah…of course…senpai." He sits still, wincing as I untangle his hair, none-too-gently.
There's just something about seeing him suffer through such indignities that makes me almost want to smile.
Ten minutes of meticulous unbraiding later, Muraki's nearly got tears in his eyes from the pain. It's worth the little tweaks of empathic pain to see the look on his face.
I think I'm going to hell. Oh wait, already there, sort of. Though really, it's just Meifu.
"There." I give the freed strand of hair a final tug. "You're all set."
"Damnit, did you really have to…" And there go the glares again. "Lovely job, Kurosaki-kun." Muraki scowls as if he'd kill me right here and be done with it, if he could.
"You know Sensei," I drawl, pulling out the syllables of his title. "If your hair had been left braided, it would have come out crimped and curly in the morning. Maybe even poofy."
At that, he scowls. "Of course…again, I greatly appreciate your effort." Insincerity drips from his voice.
"Hey, so I bet it's time to go home and sleep." An abrupt subject change, and I turn to Tsuzuki. "Ready to go?"
"Sure!" Tsuzuki smiles brightly, the relief coming off of him as palpable as a held breath exhaled. The last few hours in Muraki's apartment has left him on edge; I can feel that tiny bit of tension as he walks past Muraki. Muraki watches him thoughtfully. I'd take a peek just out of curiosity, but I'm staying out of people's heads for now. I need to spend more time in my own head. "It's getting late. Good luck, Muraki."
Funny, I think that's the first time I've heard him say something to Muraki that didn't involve threats. I guess things have changed a lot. Tsuzuki steps out into the entry. I follow.
"Thank you for the chair, Kurosaki-kun." Muraki's eyes hold a touch of amusement. "I shall be sure to…"
"Ah, just a moment!" Tsuzuki bounds back to the doorway. "I almost forgot."
"Eh?" Muraki tilts his head. The image of a good-night kiss comes leaping forward to his mind so strongly that I can't help but pick up on it.
I don't know whether I should hit Muraki or kick him. I grit my teeth and glare.
Tsuzuki, almost as if unconsciously sensing predatory intent, takes a little step back. "Uh, well, that is…" He turns red. "Oh…r-right. Here. This is for you."
He slips a hand into his coat, and pulls out a little flat rectangular package. It's wrapped in printer paper and stuck together with a mess of tape.
"Thank you?" Muraki blinks.
"Go ahead, open it." Tsuzuki smiles. Smiles like that are hard to resist. I know it from personal experience.
Muraki tugs at the package, meaning to open it delicately without tearing too much paper, but in the end, he's forced to rip through the paper as it's been bound with a hodgepodge of adhesives.
"A frame." He holds up the empty picture frame, studying the dark wood thoughtfully before turning his eyes onto Tsuzuki. I'm a little curious myself; Tsuzuki had brought me bedding when I came to Meifu…
"Ah, it's for you and Tatsumi. I mean…uh, when you take your picture together for the department reference, they usually also give you copies too so that's the size that the pictures come in and I thought you might want one for yourself but I didn't have anything I could give you so I bought this at the store the other day and…"
…And he's babbling. I give him a nudge with my elbow.
"'Night Tatsumi. 'Night, Muraki." I yank Tsuzuki's arm, dragging off before he does any serious verbal damage.
Tsuzuki gives a half-hearted wave over his shoulder as he's gratefully pulled away.
We walk in silence until we're a few blocks away from Muraki's apartment. The moon is beautiful tonight, and for the first time since that night in Nagasaki, that doesn't make me afraid or uneasy.
It's cool and white, just the way it should be.
Tsuzuki slips his arm around my shoulders. "Tired?"
"Yeah. Exhausted. I should probably go home." I lean against him.
"Do you…" And he flushes hotter than he ever would have with Muraki. I can feel the edge of anticipation in him, a heat that would be mysterious if my own feelings weren't already answering his. I can feel my pulse quicken.
"No." And sudden defeat. "I don't mean, er…I mean…L-let's…let's go to mine instead…it's closer." His emotional reaction leaves me blushing hard.
His arm is warm against my shoulders. I lean toward him, taking a breath, smelling whatever makes him Tsuzuki.
"Ew." I wrinkle my nose, drawing back a little. "You're all stinky."
"Only because I worked hard today," Tsuzuki says, amused. "We could take a bath together and fix that."
"O-oh…right. S-sure." Red. How could I have forgotten that? Half a day and already it feels like something that happened more than ten years ago, to someone else. Though to be accurate, in some ways it really was far in the past, all the time I spent with Saki. Er…as Saki, more like it.
"Thanks for saving me, Tsuzuki."
"You shouldn't thank me, Hisoka." Tsuzuki lets me go, walking dejectedly, shoulders slumped. "Muraki's the one that saved your life. Tatsumi, him, and the others. I just screwed things up."
I take a breath, trying to decide what to do or say.
"Tsuzuki." Intentionally, I make my tone a lot colder and angrier than it would normally sound.
"W-what?"
"IDIOT!" I whack him over the shoulders. "It's not your fault! You couldn't have known what would happen, moron! No one knew that Saki would get messed up and crazy, so stop being so negative!"
"H-Hiso…"
"So stop being such a dork! I know you'd never let me go with…without a fight." And now my eyes are tearing up. It hurts to say it. It really does because when the words come out, they're tinged with the memories of all the loneliness and painful isolation. Teeth clenched, fists balled, I stare at the ground, trembling, trying to make the words come out in a comprehensible manner, but they keep choking in my throat. "I kn-know…how much you care. Y-you wouldn't…ever…give up for..."
"No." His arms are around me before I can register his movement. He can move faster than anyone I know. They draw me to him tight and for a moment, it's as if we're floating, the heat of his emotions wrapping around me, keeping me safe, hiding me forever from the ice inside myself. "I wouldn't ever..." His words are choked in a sob. Then the sharp churn of guilt, his pain, and it all begins to make sense that he was afraid that it was his fault that I had been lost, that it was his doing that caused me to disappear into the dark Kyoto night.
"Idiot…I know. I know." My arms tighten around him. "So…stop feeling so guilty. I know you…I know you care for me."
"No. Not just that." The guilt's replaced by something else, something warmer and enfolding and it feels like everything is just…right. I cling to him as if he's the only thing that gives stability to this life. Pieces fall together, like the twining of his fingers and mine, our hair intermingling in our close proximity; the falling contrast of light and dark and it's a rightness that moves beyond language.
Let touch be enough for now. There are no more words to say it.
"I love you, Hisoka." He says it so quietly that it's a whisper that gives his emotions voice.
I have no way of making my lips work properly, so I let him touch that sea of feelings within me, water that unfolds into sky like the touch of a dream.
I can only hope that it's enough.
Please let it be enough for now, because I…I don't know what else to do. I don't know what else to say.
No one's ever told me that they loved me. Not…not until now.
We embrace under the pale moonlight. He kisses me carefully on the lips, a promise. Then, without looking back, we go home.
Muraki
"So I entered all the data from Saki's tests into the Compendium, and you know, it got red-flagged by Enma's office and – Tatsumi!" Watari catches us as we enter the office together, looking a little worse for the wear this morning. "A little birdie told me that you didn't go home last night. Did something happen between you and your new partner?" He gives Tatsumi a lascivious wink.
Wakaba bounces up from behind Watari. "Ne, ne! Did Tatsumi-san and Kazutaka-san…" She blushes a lovely pink. "Eee! I'm too embarrassed to say it!"
"No, Tatsumi-san did nothing of the sort," Tatsumi says swiftly, before I manage to add in any observations of my own. "I was merely helping my partner clean his apartment, but we lost track of time and stayed up too late doing it." Such a neat answer.
"Besides," I add, smirking at Wakaba. "I would never betray Tatsumi-san's confidence in such matters. If anything were to happen…I'm sure I would keep it purely a secret."
Wakaba squeaks, "Eee! Secret romance!" She runs off to confer her wild speculations with her cohorts from last night. In the distance I can hear squeals of girlish laughter, and something about that gives me a chill, just a little.
"Well, Tatsumi?" Watari grins at Tatsumi conspiratorially. "You can tell me." Tatsumi's blue eyes turn cold. They're very expressive despite the fact that he keeps his emotions close to him.
"It was just as I stated." Tatsumi's voice is clipped. "Time for work, everyone. You're not being paid to gawk at my private life." He stalks off to the general office.
"What about you?" Watari turns to me.
"What about me?" I adjust my glasses coolly.
"Any hints?"
"Last night? It was…quite…" I smile with that expression I know is tainted with seduction, drawing out the words, enjoying the anticipation "…as he described it. We cleaned all night." I can feel the side of my mouth rise in a smirk.
"Aww, you two are no fun." Watari wanders off, leaving me by myself in the entry of EnmaCho headquarters.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" I say softly to myself. "And even if something were to happen…I would surely keep it from the likes of you." Behind me the door opens, and I move to step aside for the swing of the door. Oddly, it doesn't open all the way, so I turn to see what's going on.
"Oops." Someone bumps into me, nearly knocking me over. "Sorry." But from the sound of his voice, there's not much apology to it.
"Ah, it's no problem." Tall, at least my height, plus or minus a few centimeters. On the thin side, but with broad shoulders, and a banner of black hair pulled back in a style over a century out of date. He wears traditional clothing; a very formal black kimono with a black haori, an empty space where clan crest should be, and a pair of swords belted at the waist.
And pale, blue-gray eyes.
"Are you a new employee?" He studies me intensely, from my mismatched eyes to my standard black suit (slightly dusty; it couldn't be helped – there is dust everywhere back in that rattrap) and gray tie. I can't determine his age, but he's a handsome beast, perhaps a little younger than me or perhaps a little older. It's difficult to tell with Shinigami. I wonder if he's another division's Shinigami, one of the many that I have yet to meet.
He hardly looks like an accountant. Though perhaps here it'd be fitting that they wear swords to work given the likely dangers of their job. After all, there is Tatsumi.
"Yes…Muraki Kazutaka." I extend my hand to him. He doesn't take it. "Are you…?"
"You're prettier than I imagined."
"Excuse me?" For a moment, I'm genuinely unbalanced.
"Never mind." He looks down the hall, as if expecting someone to come out. People from other departments walk past us, glancing and moving along quickly. As the diminutive figure of our summons division chief passes, the little man sees him and nearly has an apoplectic fit, scrambling down the hallway into his office.
What a rather odd reaction.
The strange man's gaze turns to mine. We stare for a long moment; I can sense the challenge. Pale eyes blank, he holds it longer than I would have imagined possible and I look away down the hall a little uncomfortably, wondering if the chief will return. Perhaps with reinforcements?
"Is there something on my face?" I say finally, when I realize he's still staring.
"Actually, yes. Your glasses. Let me see them." He extends his hand out to me, palm up.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," I say. I reach up to push my glasses up upon my face, and somehow miss, the tip of my middle finger meeting the bridge of my nose.
Now, that was rather odd. It appears that they're slipping off my face.
"Why?"
"Because they're mine. And to replace them is beyond my budget at this time." I reach up to take the offending eyewear by the frame with the tips of my fingers, but it slips out of my hand and off my face, clattering to the floor.
I'm sure that isn't normal.
He leans down and picks them up. "You should be more careful with them if they're expensive." Straightening, he hands me the glasses.
As I reach my hands out for them, they're in my grasp for just a moment before somehow sliding out again.
Clack. They hit the ground again, lens-side down.
I raise an eyebrow. The man moves to lean over again as if to pick them up.
"No need. I'll get it myself." In the back of my mind, I've got a spell prepared…it's nothing very dangerous, just something that would knock him back and give me enough time to draw a strong shield. Though I think there may be a rule about using powers in the main building; I seem to recall that was somewhere in the handbook…
I bend over to pick them up. When my fingers brush them, they go sliding along the floor. I wince, imagining the scratches.
"How very…irritating." I mutter to myself as the glasses go skittering off again without me, just beyond my reach. Chancing a glance, he's smiling to himself, enjoying a private joke. So very transparent of him.
"Who are you?" I straighten up, leaving the glasses where they are. He raises an eyebrow, as if a little surprised by my directness. "Are you another Shinigami?"
"Me? I'm not powerful enough to be a Shinigami." The sarcasm there is evident; one should have to be deaf and blind not to notice his condescension. "I just like to meet newcomers." When he smiles, there are teeth to it; something sharp and cold and vicious behind the eyes.
"I don't believe you. Who are you?" I scowl, glaring at this random interloper, wondering what could possess a stranger to be so irritating. Had he a personal grudge against me that I didn't know of? But it's impossible; by my guess based on his clothing and hairstyle, the man probably died long before my grandparents were born.
"I'm here to tell you to be careful." His gaze catches mine, unwavering. "Accidents…can happen at any time." A little twitch of his fingers, almost imperceptible, and my glasses slam into the wall by their own accord, shattering.
"Sato." Tatsumi's voice, tight with tension, and so close that I nearly start. Tatsumi steps forward, emerging beside me from my shadow.
Now, I hadn't known that he could do that with my shadow.
"Tatsumi." There's so much latent emotion buried in that one word that it explains everything right there.
"You'll restitute my partner for a pair of glasses. And please do not continue to harass any other member of the staff. You know better than that."
Sato, this strange man with the pale eyes, actually flinches at that, looking chagrined. Tatsumi's voice is cold enough to freeze and hard, clipped with rigid formality.
"How much were your glasses?" Tatsumi asks me.
I name a price; it's rather higher than what I really did pay and he knows this, as he was with me when I had them made. Tatsumi turns to Sato.
"Pay the man and leave, Sato." Tatsumi's eyes are steady, but his voice quavers on his name. Very interesting, the possibilities for amusement grow by the minute.
Sato's gaze meets his. I expect there to be some sort of squabble over this, but strangely there isn't. Sato relents, scowling.
"Fine. You'll have to come to my house. I don't carry that much cash."
And he's gone. It takes me a moment to register the movement; he had dropped into his own shadow, leaving no traces. Similar to Tatsumi's powers, I can't sense the workings of his ability either.
It's quite unsettling.
We stare at each other for a moment, as if both caught in an awkward and unexpectedly embarrassing revelation.
"If I didn't know better…" I brush my hair back a little, smiling sidewise at Tatsumi. "I would have thought that I had just walked into a lover's spat." I pause, catching his blue eyes, stormy with emotion. "Tatsumi-san, I didn't know I was the third wheel."
Tatsumi's hand clenches, and I take a step back, expecting a bolt of shadow to come slicing at me.
Instead, he does something rather unexpected.
"It…was a long time ago, Muraki-san." His voice is calm, oddly distant. "And very much over. If you value your health, I suggest that you stay away from him."
"Oh? Why's that?"
"Because to my knowledge, he's been at least indirectly responsible for the deaths of other Shinigami, before I came to Meifu."
"I didn't think that such a thing would be allowed." I blink. Meifu must have been a much more different place in the past. I suppose their rulebook was far smaller.
"It isn't. Not anymore, not since Konoe took over. But his predecessors, as I understand it, believed in allowing more powerful members of the staff to weed out those that they thought were unsuitable for the job."
"Weed out? That seems rather unusually harsh."
"It was never official. It was just that there would occasionally be accidents. Accidents that people didn't walk away from, both here and in the field. Sometimes subtle, sometimes not. I think they were taking a chance on me, hoping that he would be less likely to kill a fellow shadow user."
"Then he was your partner."
"Correct."
"Tell me, Tatsumi-san." I brush my hair aside, just a little. "Is it customary for partners to take up extracurricular interests in each other?"
Tatsumi falters, looking strangely off-center. "If by that you mean friendship…then yes. I suppose it is. Why do you ask?"
"No reason." I turn to walk away. "But your eyes are beautiful when you're angry."
It's a wonder I'm not dead. But then, when I glance back to see if he is following, he's already gone.
Tatsumi
Sato's house is immaculately clean and not by design. It's clean because it's empty; an occasional painting, an occasional ceramic, and a few things here and there that he remembers buying for Sato when they were still partners. Otherwise, it's not dissimilar to how he found it the first time he was brought over to visit; a traditional house of middling size that for the most part lacked in furnishings and decoration.
Sato is very tense, gestures clipped and short, and when Tatsumi notices the tension, he notices that he himself is tense. Tatsumi frowns, and tries to relax as Sato leads him to a room that has functioned as an office for as long as Tatsumi has known him.
His black hair coils down his back, just as Tatsumi remembers. Tatsumi is uncomfortable with being here; it's the first time he's been in this place in decades.
Inside, there are little neat stacks of receipts; it seems that even after retiring from Summons Division, the old habit of keeping receipts is hard to break. Tatsumi glances at one; it's a bill for lunch at a ramen stand, four years ago.
It is an old habit that he had impressed on Sato long ago.
Sato pulls out a metal box. Tatsumi twitches. It's a bigger box than the one he remembers. This one at least has the decency of having a lock.
"Sato, I thought I told you to put that in a bank."
Sato unlocks it with a sliver of shadow, opens it, and starts counting out money for Tatsumi. There's more in there now, enough to make Tatsumi's eyes stretch.
"No one is stupid enough to steal from me."
And that was true; he had a reputation among the neighbors that went back as long as the man had lived in Meifu.
"But…interest…accumulates…" And he's distracted, trying to surreptitiously count how much is in there. Tatsumi stares; there's at least one stack of ten thousand-yen notes. No, two. Oh, three. He can feel his pulse quicken.
"If I want to make more money, I'll just go fishing." Sato fumbles the bills as he counts. Fishing. Tatsumi remembers watching him fish. Sato's method was to float over a body of water, and pull fish out by their shadows, ignoring the small ones. In the past, he had made arrangements with neighbors to exchange fresh fish for meals or housekeeping; these days, it must be more lucrative.
Suddenly, it explains the cheap grilled eel rice bowl restaurant down the street. Tatsumi considers never eating there again.
"Here, you count it for me. It's confusing." Sato pushes the box at Tatsumi, sitting back on his heels. There's a hint of a smile at the edge of Sato's lips, but Tatsumi chooses to ignore it.
Tatsumi's fingers twitch as he's given the box. It's not the first time he's handled Sato's money; it's just that fifty years of accumulation under the Tatsumi Seiichirou method has multiplied Sato's original savings significantly.
Neat and efficient. Neat and efficient. It becomes a silent mantra, as Tatsumi tries to mentally block out how much money must be in here by now.
"There. Twenty five thousand yen." Smallish bills, since it's difficult to break large bills in Meifu. Tatsumi makes a neat stack, and sets it down in front of him.
"What about a handling fee?" Sato takes a few bills and sets them down next to the money Tatsumi's counted out, in a little fan of money.
"Sato…" Tatsumi's lips purse, trying to hide his interest.
"And transportation? That costs extra too." Sato adds a few more, and as he leans forward, his black hair slips over his shoulder.
"Sato…"
"I hear in Chijou they pay armed guards to transport money. Do you think that deserves an additional fee?" Sato slides the money toward Tatsumi. What Sato's offering is more than fair. Tatsumi twitches, thinking it to be a bribe. Or maybe an apology.
"Sato. You can't do this." It takes all of Tatsumi's effort to say this, and he pushes the extra money back to Sato.
"No? It's my money." He looks obstinate, almost sulking as if his plans were thwarted, and Tatsumi almost, almost finds that charming for a moment.
"I don't mean that, Sato." Tatsumi sighs. "It's over. It's been over for a long time. You can't just leave and then suddenly expect that I'll want to be with you again, even if you do have a big…well, pile of money."
Sato's eyes gleam, determination set in his pale blue-grey eyes. Strangely, Tatsumi is reminded of his new partner, and he shivers, half-disgusted, pushing aside that mental image.
"I know money won't be enough, Seiichirou. I know that much about you. You wouldn't forgive anyone that did what I did for any amount of money. But." Sato's definitely trying to put a rein on his temper, and Tatsumi is pleasantly surprised at not hearing anything break around the house. "But you have to realize that I can't stand the thought of you having a new partner. Especially one that's so…"
"So evil?" Tatsumi guesses.
"So pretty." Sato twitches.
"What about Tsuzuki?" Tatsumi blinks.
"Oh, him." Sato shrugs, dismissing Tsuzuki's existence with an absent wave of his hand. "He's not serious competition."
"Why do you say that?" Tatsumi's blue eyes turn cold. "Did you expect that all this time you could leave me somewhere safe and have me back as soon as you changed your mind?"
"No." Sato scowls. "Well, yes. But…mostly because. Because…" And at this he's like a child, unwilling to meet Tatsumi's eyes.
"Because what?" Gently. Tatsumi can't help himself; it's not in his nature to turn away from someone who needs him.
"Because…you weren't happy. With me. And I couldn't make you happy. And…I couldn't keep you like that. I thought…maybe someone else..." Sato shrugged, unwilling or unable to continue. It was hard to tell with him.
"Sato…" All these years, and he finally explains himself. A long time ago Tatsumi had figured out why he had allowed Sato into his heart. At the time he was vulnerable; he had needed Sato, needed someone strong to guide him and hold him with a steady hand while he built a new life for himself in this strange land. And it was easy to let Sato in. Sato was a distraction from the fear, the unending guilt of the past and of Tatsumi's own crimes - murder and betrayal - and he needed someone to turn his attention away from his own problems. Someone who had their own set of problems that he could fix. That was Sato.
But he hadn't known what he was getting in to – he hadn't known that Sato's heavy-handed advances weren't the result of experience and confidence – it was from isolation and pure ignorance. He hadn't realized that Sato had lived a mostly empty existence, punctuated by officially sanctioned murder until Tatsumi entered his world. Tatsumi hadn't realized that in some ways, Sato was as damaged as he was, or perhaps even more. At least Tatsumi knew the face of his mother.
Tatsumi's eyes shut, trying to get himself under control as a flood of old memories, old emotions that he had thought dead or sealed away, come crashing around him.
/"You make being alone hurt, Seiichirou. I don't remember it being like this before. Why?"/
"Seiichirou. I'm sorry."
And those are words that Tatsumi had never thought he'd hear from Sato. His eyes; they're damp, just a little moisture…but no, he won't cry.
Tatsumi nods, a little tightly, trying to keep himself together. "I know."
"You don't have to forgive me. I just…" Sato frowns to himself, gesturing as if trying to get his words together, and Tatsumi remembers this, how he occasionally seemed to lose the ability to speak properly if he was upset, reminding him that Sato had only learned to speak after he entered Meifu, and had never learned to read very well at all.
/Pages turning and Tatsumi reads from a book to him. They're sitting underneath a blossoming sakura tree, and Sato, lying down beside him, bats the shadows of the falling sakura away as he listens, so that no flowers land on Tatsumi's book./
Tatsumi closes his eyes against the memories.
"I know, Sato. It's all right."
Sato makes no moves to touch him even though Tatsumi knows it's what he wants to do.
"Thank you for the money. I will be sure to deliver it to my partner."
"Seiichirou…" He's hurt, Tatsumi knows it. He can hear it in Sato's voice.
"Please…" Tatsumi takes a deep breath. "Just…give me some time to think this over, Sato. I'll come back to visit you sometime, I promise."
"All right."
It should be enough, just for now. Tatsumi stands up, a little shakily.
Sato doesn't make a move to touch him. Time, Tatsumi thinks, must have genuinely given the man some perspective. He looks at Sato, realizing that he must have taken Tatsumi's comments to him in the past to heart; to be more patient, to try to understand, to control his temper.
The thought that he has so much control over this man who in turn had so much control over him makes Tatsumi uneasy. He was hoping…hoping that it was dead; hoping that that part of his life was over forever, if nothing but for the fact that he didn't want to face it again.
"I'm sorry, Seiichirou."
And the words follow Tatsumi even after he's returned to the office to finish up the day.
Hisoka
There's something wrong. Something horribly, horribly wrong.
I wake up with a start, a little gasp of breath. Am I even in my bedroom? I stare at the sheets. Yes, it's my bedroom, down to the striped sheets. The light in my bedroom is different. It's dark.
The clock? The alarm clock?
I've overslept!
And and and…
"Nnnrgph." Tsuzuki's arm pulls me down, and a moment later I'm pressed against him. He's dead asleep; this is more automatic reflex than anything else. "Go back to sleep." At least, that's what I think he said, the words muffled against the pillow.
"Tsuzuki." I say softly, giving him a little shake. "Where's the alarm clock? Tsuzuki? TSUZUKI."
"Nnn?" Drowsily, he presses his face into my neck. "Broke it…too noisy." He does something with his lips and I nearly squeak.
"Tickl-Tsuzuki!" I flail as he plays his hot tongue over my skin, his warm breath spreading over my skin. I hadn't realized I was so cold, not until he licked me.
Then I realize why.
"Idiot, you stole the covers." I give him a little shove, sliding back under the bedding. It's hot compared to the chill air outside the bed, and I can feel my muscles relaxing, not realizing before that I was tense.
"Sorry, Hisoka." He says it so sweetly that I can't continue being mad. "Are you cold?"
"Mm-hmm." That doesn't mean I can't continue sulking. Honestly, who steals bedcovers like that? He's like a little kid sometimes.
"Can I make it up to you?" Tsuzuki purrs against my ear. "What if I warmed you up?"
At that, I can feel the heat suffuse my face. "Wh-what do you mean, idiot?"
He had nothing more to say, other than bring his lips to mine. It's a gentle, lingering kiss, charged with a sensual undertone from his feelings, like the ticklish fuzz on a peach overlaying its juicy interior.
"I…I…" Uh. Um. Er. Ah. Hi. Oh.
He moves, shifting his legs so that he's half-kneeling over me. "Is it all right?"
"Y-yeah." I pull him down for a firm kiss, drawing the tip of my tongue over his lips.
Needless to say, we were late to work.
Showered, a little sore in the legs, and over all feeling very good, I feel like a new person today. Tsuzuki's following along beside me, his happiness spilling over so brightly that it feels like I'm being tailed by a comet.
But comets are cold. It's more like having my own personal sun.
By the time we get in it's after lunch, but no one seems to care. Not even Tatsumi who's suspiciously absent. I guess it's a free day then, given what everyone's been doing for the last few days. Kind of like Christmas in October.
As we sit in the empty office side-to-side, fingers entwined, Tsuzuki tells me about last night. About Saki, and about his promise to Muraki. Another time, I would have been mad – I would have railed against Tsuzuki for making any dealings with the man; I would have suspected everything and anything, that there were devious plots behind all of it, that it was just a trap.
But it seems like another world. Another life. I've seen him, miserable and cold and lonely beneath the sakura, the imagined eyes of his dying mother staring out at him from beyond the world of the dead, fingers clutched firmly into his heart. I've seen him as a child, pale gray eyes teary with pain; a colorless mirror of myself, trapped in a locked room surrounded by dolls. I've felt the bone of his arm snap between another's hands as if it were my own.
Muraki is no longer the monster of my dreams. In truth, he might never have been.
More true, he's just a man. A fucked-up miserable excuse of a human being…but in the end, no more than that.
Tsuzuki tells me about Ukyou. Tsuzuki describes her as pretty; a girl that would be beautiful, had she not been sick. She was the girl that he found in a garden, pictures of a past life with Muraki scattered around a little house like the dead leaves in her yard. I can feel how much he hurts for her, I can see in his heart her empty eyes looking to the world around her, her real self trapped within her mind.
Sometimes I think that Tsuzuki's more of an empath than me.
And then, the most important part of Tsuzuki's deal with Muraki, the part that he had been keeping aside from me, holding back until he could explain all of the details.
"I told him you would help her." He says it so simply. It reminds me of how simple his heart is, and how great his capacity for love is, even if it benefits a man that for years he vehemently despised. "But you don't have to do anything if you don't want to. I'm just glad you're alive."
I think about it. I can't forgive Muraki. Even though we might have come to a certain strange balance, I probably never will. But…for Tsuzuki. For that girl that knows nothing of the harm her lover's caused.
It doesn't take me long to say yes. Tsuzuki smiles and pulls me into an embrace, holding me tight.
"Thank you."
He's wishing that he had known me a long time ago.
It's silly, because I wouldn't have been born yet.
Just outside of Kyoto, in a quiet suburb filled with charming little modern houses, is a life I've never known before. It's a world wholly without the heavy burden of history that came with all the places I've been surrounded by all my life. All the buildings here are new development, built in the last few years. These are primarily homes for young families, and we pass children playing on the streets, the scent of dinners cooking wafting out in the early evening breeze. I can already see Tsuzuki's eyes glaze over as we walk.
Terazuma walks beside Muraki, who is expressionless. I can tell Muraki's trying to hide something. He watches the children play, his lips tight and suddenly he turns the corner, quickening his step. His regret is unmistakenable. Tatsumi follows him, frowning. I suppose he's afraid that Muraki will go back to his old self more now, or maybe he's just worried for the kids running around here. It's hard to tell, because Tatsumi is keeping his feelings very tightly closed up.
When we arrive at the house, there are already people there ahead of us. I didn't know that Tatsumi had allowed this, but Oriya and Muraki's secretary are already at the house, speaking with Ukyou's caretaker. They both look tired, as if they've had a long day.
When we get to the door, everyone seems to defer to me, as if I'm the expert. Which I guess I am, now that I think about it. I glance at the caretaker and the little crowd around me, Shinigami and mortal, before asking Muraki for a little privacy.
He dismisses the caretaker; the others are left with tea and cookies in the living room. We go to a back bedroom where Ukyou is sitting.
Fragile. It's the only way I can describe her. Her hands are slender, and had they movement, they probably would have been graceful too. She is too thin; apparently she doesn't eat well, having little appetite. Even with the caretaker's help, nutritional additives are necessary to keep her well.
"I haven't known what to do for a long time." Muraki slips her hand between his, kneeling at her side, as if trying to keep her fingers warm. He only has eyes for her now. Had I known…that even someone like him could feel this sort of love…
"I want you to trust me with her for just a few minutes, Muraki." I say this softly, as if the stir of my words through the air would disturb her. "Go outside."
He nods, and stands up, letting her hand go, carefully placing it so that it rested slack on the bare wood of the armrest.
"Thank you." His eyes are unreadable, but his emotions are not.
After he leaves, I look around the room. It's a nice-sized bedroom, furnished beautifully with new furniture carved in a classical style. According to Muraki, he replaces it every year, hoping that the newness would leave no possible psychic imprints, no hints of trauma, just a clean sterility as if to ward off infection.
It also explains the house, why he chose a new home for her. It would have the least amount of psychic imprint; no previous owners meant no possible trauma soaked into the walls, no suffering.
But also no happiness, either.
He was keeping her here locked in glass and polished wood like a doll too fragile to live outside of a hermetically sealed container.
I pull up a chair and sit down next to her, grounding myself. To think of something that makes me happy, the image of sakura floating down around me as the sun shines past the leaves, into my eyes. Tsuzuki's at my side – he's chasing down the last crumbs in the bag of cookies, searching for an elusive chocolate chip.
There. He's got it. I smile, feeling his intense happiness at such a tiny morsel.
And so I close my eyes.
And I touch her hands.
I should be home for tea. This is what I say, except this is not really me. This is Ukyou.
Tea. I must be home for tea. Everything is a formless gray, a little blurry around the edges, the sky melding into ghost-trails of fog that slide around me, buildings and streets disappearing as I turn my head. People all around are just wisps that prove insubstantial when I brush against them them. They're not really here.
But that doesn't matter because I have him. And that makes me smile.
From my hand swings a handled paper bag. It crinkles as I walk. Inside is a pear-apple. I will peel and slice it, just for him. There's also a little chocolate cake. That's for me. He doesn't like cake with tea.
It's a surprise. Muraki doesn't know I'm coming home early. No…Kazutaka. He's told me to call him that. But I'll always secretly think of him as my darling Muraki-san.
Home. The thought makes us smile. Her, me…does it matter who I am anymore? Just knowing…that for once in what felt like such a long time…I have a home to return to. Just so long as I get there before it starts snowing.
He'll be pleased, I'm sure. He loves this fruit. The flesh is white, whiter than even he is, and far sweeter. He'll laugh if I say that. And so I will.
The buzz of the power lines above the streets hum like electric insects, drowning out the hum of faraway conversations.
Will he be pleased? Will he hold me with those hands that are cold and hurt and leave me with shivers, then suddenly warm to my fingers?
Will I see who he really is, but even still want more? Because he needs me more than anyone, because he loves me more than anyone. Because he understands…
Muraki, I want to be with you always. Please hurry home and we'll have tea. There's Darjeeling in the cupboard and the plain mug that I like and the fancy tea set that you bought for us and we can sit in the dark as it snows just like we used to when…
"Stop." We're both surprised. No, it's just her. It had taken me a while to ground myself, to separate myself from her thoughts, her feelings. Hisoka. I'm Hisoka. This tall, this blonde, this thin, these green eyes, these hands…
"Who are you?" She clutches her groceries, almost pitifully. As the world around her fades, she focuses in on me, an unsightly splotch of color amidst the swirling gray.
"Hisoka."
"A secret…" She says this carefully, thoughtfully. "Are you my son then?" She smiles, reaching her arms out to me, drawing me close. She's taller than I imagined, her dark hair swinging around her face like a silken curtain. We kneel together, our knees touching the cool pavement beneath. "You have to tell me, since this is a dream. Will you be the child I have?" She brushes my hair back with her fingers, unafraid of touching me.
"No." Her hands are soft, igniting faint whispers of memory within me, as comforting as a mother's touch that I had forgotten long ago.
"But…you look just like him." Her dark eyes seem to blur with tears. "The picture he showed me once. Unless…" Disappointment, and it's so strong it's almost painful.
"D-don't be sad. Please don't cry…um, Ukyou-san."
"How do you know my name?"
"I…know him." It's hard. It's so hard, but I force back my own memories of the man, containing it within me like a kernel within a shell, hiding it from her lost eyes.
"Do you? He said…he's working late again. And I'm going to be late too, if I don't get home. It's just the next block. I know I can find it. I'm not lost. Really."
"Ukyou-san…" I don't know how else to address her.
"Let me tell you a secret." She smiles at me earnestly, as though the sorrow is forgotten. I nod, leaning in to listen.
"I can't seem to find my way home. These streets…look familiar but they're not right. It's been like this for a long time. I feel like it should really just be the next street over, but I can't seem to find my way there. Do you think…maybe that I'm a little mad?"
"N-no." It's a relief, hearing something so reasonable come out of her mouth. I was afraid that it would have been like Saki. Endless repetitive pain. "You're not crazy."
"Then…tell me. Hisoka." She brushes the pad of her thumb against my cheek, eyes warming to me as if it reminded her of someone.
I will not think of it. I won't. He's a different person. This is the child in the dark room of dolls that she's looking for. Not…
"Tell me where I can find him."
I can feel my heart pound as she asks me this. She's afraid too, knowing that somehow everything in this world is completely wrong. She's feeling my fear, touching my memories. Her dark brown eyes - a dark so dark it is almost black - catch mine, seeking answers. I offer my hand to her. "He's here. But you just have to wake up…"
"Oh. Is that it?" It seemed so simple. "Have I been asleep for so long?"
I glance up. It begins to snow, a light dusting of white that begins to fill the world with silence. I stare into it, concentrating on getting us out.
For a minute, I'm lost again. But this time, when I find myself, I'm sitting with her, back in the little house. There's a hint of perfume in the air. I hadn't noticed it before, it was so faint.
"Hello, Ukyou."
"Hello. Hisoka." Her parched lips move into a smile. It's so genuine that I can't help but love her too, in a way.
Terazuma
It's after midnight by the time Muraki leaves. Or is forced to, really; everyone else left hours ago. No one wanted to drag him away, but in the end Terazuma drew the short straw. After all…he is still technically in charge.
Muraki's eyes are blank. The moon is hidden, and the city lights cast an orange glow onto the cover of clouds.
"Sorry." Terazuma scuffs his feet on the sidewalk, kicking the butt-end of a cigarette dead. "I gotta take you home. Er…well, Meifu."
"Yes." Muraki's voice is strained. Terazuma makes a face. Did it always have to be so hard?
"You know..." Terazuma takes out his cigarettes, and offers Muraki one. They light up, the musky smell of tobacco replaced with an acrid burn. "You're a lucky guy." He glanced at the house. Terazuma had only caught the barest glimpse of the girl, sitting like a mannequin with her nurse. A human doll. It had given him the shivers.
"Perhaps." Muraki takes a deep drag. "It seems…that Kurosaki-kun will have to come often. The damage is too deep to heal in an evening. I may have to have her moved. Oriya's offered to let her live in his old family home in Kyoto."
"Yeah. But you know it's not up to you anymore." Terazuma gestures with his cigarette, leaving a faint trail of light and as he does so. "I mean, it kinda is since we're being lenient, but you know…we're not really supposed to be around to influence stuff once we're dead."
"Mmm." Muraki looks away. The only thing separating him from the night is faint gleam of light along the edge of his black coat and the silver of his hair. "I suppose you're right."
"Hey. Don't…" And Terazuma is about to say that he shouldn't be so sad. That it would get better, that in time. That it would definitely be all right.
But it's hollow, and they both know it.
Terazuma sighs. "It ain't easy." He drops the half-smoked cigarette and crushes it underfoot. "And I can't promise that it'll get better. But you know…if you want, you can stay with me 'n Kannuki tonight. For old time sakes."
"Thank you." It's so soft that it's barely audible.
A cold drip of water slides down Terazuma's face. It's raining again. He nods to Muraki as water patters down around them, staining the sidewalk with dark blotches.
Like shadows, they disappear a moment later without a trace, except for the lingering print of Terazuma's shadow, which fades in the falling rain.
Hisoka
"Hey. It's past midnight." A warm pair of arms wraps around my shoulders. "Aren't you tired?"
"Idiot…I slept all day." But I can't help smiling as Tsuzuki nuzzles against me, cradling me close. It's cold in here, cold enough that I haven't taken my coat off yet. The rain drips from the eaves, melting the distance away as it patters along the leaves of the trees outside of Tsuzuki's apartment.
"Mmm." There's a smile in his voice. "I was really happy when she woke up."
"Yeah. Me too." My fingers tangle with his. "I'm going back in a day or two. I promised."
"Thank you, Hisoka." His voice is soft, a breath against my hair. My eyelids flutter shut as I lean back against him.
"Thank you." I say that for a completely different reason. I turn and embrace him.
He's warm.
Muraki
If I could pray for you, I would. But I no longer know the words. I just know that this is the best chance you have at living again. Just like this is my best chance for living too.
The irony nearly makes me laugh.
If I could live with you now and turn back the clock. Say, just a few weeks. Enough time to reconsider finding the boy, enough time to prevent my own murder. If I had known…that you were still in there, somewhere…
I would never have done this had I known.
I lost my faith in you, and nearly lost both of us in the process.
What was it like to touch you alive for the first time in years? Not merely a doll to treasure in a wood and glass box of a house, but to touch you? I had dreamed about it for years and years; woken up cold in the middle of the night wanting my arms around you, daydreamed that you'd come to me when I needed you the most until I stopped dreaming completely.
After that, came nightmares.
Reality could not match up to those lost dreams. But it was more meaningful in its own way. As before, you never pulled away, even though I could see that you knew everything that I had done with just a glance. Everything was written in the blood that stains my soul. You saw through it all in an instant. But you still loved me.
And my feelings haven't changed. They never will.
Please forgive me, Ukyou. And please…be well.
I'll watch over you from the land of the dead.
I promise.
Notes: Oriya's family home does not refer to Kokakurou: (Chapter 6) "I didn't always live there – I grew up in a house not too far away. It was just the place where work was done, but then they died and our house became too big and empty for me to live in by myself."
My apologies for anyone who's been waiting for this epilogue. I've been working on this chapter on and off (mostly off) for the last two years. Unfortunately, most of that time was non-conducive to writing, but hopefully that will change.
Thanks to everyone for being so patient about waiting for this epilogue. Thanks also to Danceswithelvis, who inspired 'Payback' back in 2003. A very special thanks to all my beta readers: RubyD, Dwee, Cyrus, A-chan, Kizu, Rinoa, and anyone else I might have forgotten to list. There have been a lot of people that have been important to the writing of this story, and I know I can't name them all. But I'm especially grateful to the people who have stayed with me so long to read this. Thank you guys. I really appreciate it. I never thought that a one-shot written one morning in 2003 would turn into such an adventure.
To answer some things that weren't answered in the story:
Originally, the foundation for the Meifu side of the story was that somehow between Muraki and Tsuzuki (two half-breeds of supernatural beings) and Saki's genetic meddling, Enma would find a way out into the human world. Thus, the "gate" symbol on the clothing. In Chinese mythology (as I recall, since it's been a while), the Gate of the Western Heaven was the entrance into paradise. In the First Death, this was a symbolic 'mark' that Enma had placed on both Tsuzuki and Muraki, to signify that he would use them as a means to escape from his tenure in Meifu.
In the original concept, Enma was a being that was trapped forever outside of the cycle of life and death. He was basically an eternal bureaucrat who had gotten sick of his existence and wanted to become human. He escapes and selfishly takes his powers with him, which causes universal chaos. To set the world right again, various Shinigami would have to 'team up' in different combinations to solve the mystery and bring him back
However, about half-way through The First Death, I ended up not being able to spend the time it took to do that story arc. So instead, what you see is a hodgepodge remix that was made to shorten and simplify the original story. But it can technically be continued to include that storyline, as Watari notes in this chapter.
There are a few more snippets I have for The First Death on my computer. I'll see about posting them sometime. Most of them don't really lead anywhere, but someone out there might be interested.
Take care, and have a wonderful new year.
EAG 1/27/2006
Sakaki Sidestory
Sakaki is having a very bad day.
Well, it's a series of very bad days. Of very bad weeks. First he gets kidnapped, and then he spends a few weeks in a cold laboratory half-freezing while his employer's seemingly sensible but ultimately mad older half-brother regales him with long-winded monologues that make Sensei at his worst seem preferable in contrast.
Then, he's coerced (no, blackmailed is the better word, or maybe just threatened) into working for the man so that he won't be used in some awful medical experiments. He saw what the diseases did to lab rats; he wasn't about to test Saki's bluff.
In retrospect, it's been a bad year. Ever since Muraki walked off, locking up the house behind him, Sakaki's been fairly miserable. His new job stressed him out (one demanding employer was enough; when it came to over a dozen, the demands made his head spin), he wasn't sleeping well, and by the time Saki kidnapped him, it almost came as a relief to be forcibly dragged out of his current life.
But, of course, the life of freedom was far preferably to poking around in socks back and forth in the same hallway.
Though now, it's gotten much worse. Much, much, much worse.
"Can you tell me if you had any previous grudges against your former employer? Did he do anything to you or to someone in your family that you might want him dead for?"
"No, of course not." Sakaki stares at the cold mug of tea in his hands; he's exhausted and they won't stop talking at him. If this is friendly questioning, he's afraid of the unfriendly type. Bad enough that when he came back, it turned out that Saki had cancelled his apartment lease and put his belongings into storage. Worse, that he was fired for not showing up to work for two and a half weeks and not having anything to say to explain it.
"Forensics couldn't link you to the bullet but we know you are licensed to own and use firearms." The police investigator goes through his notes. "Have you ever thought of shooting Muraki Kazutaka?"
"No, of course not!" Sakaki's getting agitated.
"Then please explain to us why on Sunday the 24th of September, the very day that he was murdered, you conveniently went missing, moved out of your apartment, and stayed missing for almost three weeks, showing up only now when your neighbors called us to let us know that you were sneaking around the complex."
"I…" And Sakaki's thought about it; there's no way to explain this properly. What would he say? 'So you see inspector, the reason I was missing because Sensei's dead brother from America decided to kidnap me to make me tell him the secret of immortality, but I managed to get out by accidentally turning him into a genetic monster, and spent a night in the afterworld with Sensei, who's now dead, and his best friend. Oh, speaking of which, Sensei's best friend is running a secret brothel in Kyoto where he let me stay the night.' Jail would be far, far preferable to the mental asylum. At least, he might be able to get out early on good behavior.
"According to your written statement, you had access to his financial information. Was it for the money?"
"Please, I'm very tired because I've been traveling." Sakaki says this slowly because he knows they're trying to wear him down to make him tell them everything. "I did not kill Sensei, nor did I try to steal his money."
"Then how do you explain this?" The detective slides a few sheets of papers forward. "These are records of someone trying to access Muraki Kazutaka's accounts from the Tokyo Main Station two days before we brought you in for questioning."
"I don't know. Maybe someone put in the wrong numbers." Waaah, Sensei. Sakaki twitches, wanting out of this. "I won't continue without a lawyer." It's a bluff – he can't afford one, not without a job, and not when he has to repay the apartment owners for breaking the lease too early, and not when he needs to make a sizeable deposit for a new apartment if he doesn't want to live in a tent in the park.
Outside the glass windows of the conference room, he can see some sort of flurry of commotion, and he sighs, wondering how long he'll be kept here.
"Excuse me, sir." A police officer interrupts them, this one a young lady who knocks on the door. "The chief wants you to stop the questioning, and let this man go."
"What? We're making progress!" The investigator stands up. "You can't just stop this process!"
"Apparently…" The girl blushes, handing the investigator what appears to be plane ticket stubs. "Um, according to the witness in Germany, Sakaki-san met a woman on the internet and uh, wanted to elope with her. These are his ticket stubs for the flight. There are some hotel receipts too, but I'll have to get them. So it was just a coincidence when his former employer died on the same day he flew out after work, and…er…" She turns bright pink. "And…uh…so this lady turned out to be a man."
"No wonder he's not talking." The investigator's cheeks are pink as well. "And no wonder he's back in Japan. How disgusting!"
Sakaki turns red. He wants to crawl into a hole and die from embarrassment, but it's better than going to jail where that could actually happen.
The detective looks over the tickets with a calculated eye. "These are genuine. You're free to go."
Sakaki sighs, slumping back in the chair. As he walks out of the interrogation room, he can hear titters and laughter, and he draws himself up straight, reminding himself that a little embarrassment was far better than going to prison.
The girl stops him. "Um, sir? The chief wants to apologize to you himself. His office is down the hall, that way." She points.
"Th-thank you," Sakaki nods, very politely.
"So was he hot? Was he a cross dresser, like in that movie?" She turns beet red.
"I…I'd rather not talk about it," Sakaki replies, blushing, hoping that it's a safe enough answer.
"Eee! Secret romance!" And she skitters off to converse with her friends.
Sakaki nearly dies of mortification right there, but he manages to get to the Chief's office in one piece.
"Please excuse me." Sakaki enters the office with a little bow, seeing that someone's already sitting in there with the Chief, in a sharp dark suit with long hair pulled back behind his head. A sudden bolt of fear goes through him; he's been sold to the Yakuza – his freedom in exchange for lifetime service to the mob. Sakaki stares at the stranger whose back is to him, wondering if he's a mob boss or merely an underling.
"No, no. Come in, sit down." The police chief's an elderly gentleman, and has a look to him that Sakaki thinks is somehow vaguely familiar.
Sakaki sits, and chances a glance at the dark stranger.
"O-Oriya-san?"
Oriya smiles, his hands folded neatly before him. "It's been a long time, Sakaki. How was Berlin?"
"C-cold. And…uh…German…" Sakaki fumbles, managing the words as he realizes who could have conjured up such an explanation.
"So I trust the police didn't give you a hard time?" Oriya's eyes gleam with amusement, as if daring Sakaki to ask him for an explanation.
"No, not at all. The staff is very professional here." Sakaki manages smoothly.
"Good, good." The chief sounds pleased. "I apologize for the trouble, Sakaki-san. You know how it is, these hot-headed detectives…"
"Sure," Sakaki replies dazed. "It's no problem."
"So…did this German fellow…really look like a woman?" The chief leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk, looking very interested.
"Ah…um, well, I shouldn't say…" Sakaki turns bright red. He can hear Oriya stifle a chuckle.
"But you can at least tell me…was he hot?"
Sakaki's face feels like it's on fire. "Y-yes, actually."
Payback
"You!"
"You!"
I can feel the heel of my hand meet my forehead in a slap. Terazuma and Tsuzuki. Don't those idiots ever stop?
"Now, now Hajime-chan, let's go get some tea…" Wakaba smiles at me apologetically.
"Yeah, idiot. Let's go somewhere else." I give Tsuzuki a sharp jab with my elbow. "There's some cake in the staff lounge, you'd better hurry if you want a piece..." I say it as if bored with the whole affair. It's a bald-faced lie, but I gotta do what I gotta do. After all, I like my office in one piece.
"Actually Kannuki, my business is with him." Terazuma gestures with his thumb, pointing my way. "I got a score to settle with him."
"How mean!" Wakaba stamps her foot. "Honestly Hajime, what has Hisoka ever done to you?"
Terazuma grins rakishly. "Good question. Better figure it out." He's exuding self-satisfaction. I really wonder what the hell is going on.
He begins walking toward me, almost threateningly, though I can tell his intent isn't dangerous. Immediately, Tsuzuki jumps between us.
"Don't touch him." His voice edges on possessiveness.
I cuff Tsuzuki lightly. "I can handle myself." And then in a softer tone, "He's not going to hurt me, Tsuzuki. I know."
"All right." Peeved, Tsuzuki steps back. "Just don't come crying to me when he does something weir-H-HEY! G-GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY PARTNER!"
Terazuma does something with his feet, I don't even know what, only that something nudges the back of my knees and suddenly I'm horizontal, and his lips are all over mine. All over.
Holy crap. I think…yep, that's tongue all right.
"There." He grins, sounding extremely pleased with himself. In the background Wakaba's squealing like a schoolgirl. Uh, which she is.
"W-what was that for?" I'm squeaky too. Wow, my voice doesn't work anymore. Neither do my knees, apparently. Shakily, I manage to stay upright as I wipe my lips with the back of my hand. My cheeks are burning hot.
"I owed you one, kid." Terazuma grins. "You remember New Year's 1998?"
I nearly fall over. "W-what's that got to do with anything?" Sputtering and indignant, I don't know who's more mad, me or Tsuzuki.
We all stare at each other a moment. Wakaba's mad because she wanted Terazuma to give her prior notice so she could take a picture, Tsuzuki's mad because well, Terazuma was all over me. And Terazuma just gives me a wink as he's beset upon by them both.
And then I just laugh and laugh and laugh.