Yami no Matsuei fairy tale, part 4

By Sakura no Miko

Summary: This is an insanely late chapter of an odd little idea that popped into my head. It's a continuation of my "Sleeping Beauty" with Yami no Matsuei characters. This is more of a transition/explanation chapter.

Disclaimer: Anyone who thinks I own Yami no Matsuei, or would make a profit off of it, needs to see a doctor. Quickly.

Warnings: This is the lead-in to the second story-arc of my dark fairy tale, following even more of Tsuzuki and Tatsumi's relationship. I was hoping this part would be less dark, but a few ideas crept in… Again, there's shounen ai/yaoi/'hot guys doing hot things to each other,' of the Tatsumi/Tsuzuki variety.

The dawn awoke to find a strange sight in the bustling land of Meifuu.

Two lovers—though they were wrapped so close you might mistake them for one—smiling and crying, whispering strange, soft words that even the winds dared not listen to.

But it was not hard to guess their feelings.

Whatever hardship they faced, they would now face together. And whenever one was hurt, the other was there to comfort. It was the ideal that every union wanted, but so few ever managed.

So, finally, after the long days of waiting and wanting, and the nights of pain and solace, the sun rises to gaze upon the peaceful morning.

The castle of Meifuu was a marvelous structure to behold in its prime. As it now stood, its glory was still slightly diminished in Tatsumi's eyes. It wasn't a physical flaw, but, rather, a flaw in his memories. Not a decade ago, the castle had been engulfed in flames, along with many of the nearby homes. So many people had lost their lives—friends, acquaintances, those he'd known from childhood.

The castle had been completely rebuilt, and the unknowing traveler would see nothing amiss. But, for so many years, Tatsumi had only seen the ruins in his mind's eye. It had fed his guilt so readily…but, today, as he gazed upon the pearly white stone, the towers touching the sky, and the jeweled doors beckoning all who had business to settle with the lone occupant of the massive structure, he thought he could see the castle's beauty again.

The Count of Meifuu, though he held the power and wealth of much of the land, rarely attended to business personally, thus creating many tasks for Tatsumi and his other workers to attend to. It was for good reason, though. The Count, while not of spirit blood—or so he claimed—was not of human blood, either. Even when Tatsumi had seen him, it had been in a darkened room, unusually devoid of the many candles that lit the castle constantly. A flash of white was all he could make out, and that was likely a mask.

He'd never wondered about the Count too much. It had been him who, upon learning of the demise of the Tatsumi family, had kept the wealth safe until Tatsumi was of age, and had provided for both mother and son throughout his childhood. When he asked that Tatsumi work for him, Tatsumi had accepted the offer gratefully, and had never regretted the choice.

But…what would the Count think when he learned that Tatsumi, very purposefully, had dallied in his task for the better part of a year? He had no idea why he'd been sent to find Tsuzuki, but there must have been a reason. It couldn't be as simple as finding the truth of the rumor; a simple messenger could have found that out.

He must have known…so why didn't he send somebody after them? Why were there no inquiries after them, no messages, no communication at all? Tatsumi winced. Well, he hadn't exactly been talkative, either. In fact, the longer they stayed, the less he wanted to leave.

Truth be told, he didn't especially want to be here now, either. He wanted to say it was for a good reason, but he knew, deep down, it wasn't. He just wanted to be with Tsuzuki. He had more than enough wealth to keep them well for the rest of their lives. Tatsumi paused. The rest of their lives…? It seemed like such a distant future, but…the thought made him happy. It gave him resolve, purpose.

Tatsumi took a deep breath. He leaned against an ornate wall, collecting himself. He couldn't report to the Count if he was all emotional like this. But…still, the thought remained in his head: what was going to happen when everyone found out that he and Tsuzuki were…well, in love? It was safe, when they were traveling on hidden roads, through dark forests and over empty plains. It was safe in a tiny village, unknown, not worth caring about. But here, in the open, there were so many reasons that would trouble them. Tsuzuki wouldn't understand, but he understood all too well.

He thought about it before, many times. Now, though…now that he loved Tsuzuki, there were so many more problems he needed to consider.

Tsuzuki, meanwhile, had nothing remotely unsettling on his mind. They'd only just met, but he was already convinced that he adored Tatsumi's mother. She was showing him how to make the sweet cakes he loved eating so he wouldn't have to buy them. He was trying to pay attention, he really was, but there were so many interesting things going on around them. He'd never seen many of the things in Ruriko's home, even though she assured him they were quite common.

He wasn't surprised at her inevitable questions: where was he from, what was his family like, how had he come to meet Tatsumi? Grinning brightly, he answered each in turn. He was from Chikyuu—why, yes, that Chikyuu, the one that was abandoned all the years ago—but his family had died a long time ago and Tatsumi had found him. He didn't notice the questioning look on the old woman's face as he chattered on. He talked about the tower, his sleep, and the day he met Tatsumi—none of it, of course, making any sense to his attentive listener. She made a mental note to ask her son later.

But…then again, the aura she saw radiating from the boy's form, darkening with negative emotions, but always brightening at Tatsumi's name, explained things to her quite well.

He talked about Tenkuu as they waited for the cakes to bake. The people, the animals, the buildings—his detailed memories were better than any book or bard. Still, Ruriko couldn't help but feel the air of discontent in his words. There was something not right, something she couldn't quite place, but it was there, nonetheless. The strangest part of it was that Tsuzuki seemed to be completely oblivious to it.

But even so, she couldn't help but smile and laugh along with him.

Tatsumi sighed. He never relished returning to work after his journeys, and he suddenly remembered, with greater clarity than he'd ever known, exactly why.

Every time he returned, it was as if everyone felt some compulsion, some bizarre desire…

...to remind him of his own name.

It hurt to smile for so long, to answer every query politely, to try and resist the urge to turn around and try again another day, preferably one far away. Why hadn't he ever noticed before?

He almost chuckled at the thought, and, for a moment, his smile became genuine again. He'd never known anything different before. In his own way, he'd been locked away, in a tower built of rules and etiquette, duty and responsibility, apathy and solitude. But, unlike the stone that held down the halls he wandered through, his tower had only been giving the appearance of strength. How else, he mused, could it have been broken by a smile as easily as a child's castle of sand against the roaring waves?

'Tsuzuki…' Hadn't his mouth, only moment ago, ached with the weight of an insincere smile? He felt as if he could have grinned at Muraki himself the way he felt now.

In fact, Tatsumi was so lost in his longing, loving musing that several increasingly irate calls of his name went by without him so much as hearing their echoes.

"Seiichirou Tatsumi!" The gruff voice finally made it into his ears. He turned, his eyes lighting up faintly.

The owner of the voice was an old friend and superior, the only person he knew to have been in the Count's service longer than he. Konoe, affectionately called "Chief" by all the workers in the Count's employee, was a well-built and better-aged old gentleman. Like Tatsumi, he came from an old family, a noble house that had since fallen on hard times. Konoe was himself the last of his family still alive, and he was so immersed in his duties to the Count as to be called "married" to his work. Such a strange union, however, was rarely known to the men of Meifuu, and, with Tatsumi's attentions now most happily distracted, the honor belonged to Konoe alone.

"Chief," Tatsumi returned warmly. "I apologize. I was—"

"Thinking too hard, as always." Konoe finished sternly. His face took on a more pleasant expression. "How have you been, Tatsumi?" he asked warmly.

"Quite well. And you?"

"Fine." He looked at Tatsumi closely. "We were starting to get worried about you. You might have at least said hello before you ran off again."

Tatsumi shook his head. "I was barely able to leave even then," he replied coolly. Yes, he thought to himself, he couldn't pull himself away from Tsuzuki, not matter how much he'd tried. Even then, when he only had to take care of… Tatsumi smiled. There. That would work. "I couldn't leave my charge alone," he finished.

Konoe's eyes narrowed. "The Count has been waiting to hear about your…charge, for some time now."

"I know," Tatsumi said, nervousness starting to set in again. The Count had a sixth sense, a strange ability to sense things unspoken. He would know, probably before Tatsumi spoke a word, that his "charge" had become so much more.

"Tatsumi?"

"It's nothing. We shouldn't keep him waiting any longer."

The halls were without windows, lit by dozens of candles. They were tall, and short, nearly new and almost melted away, varying in color, scent, and style—as if they represented the differences of the entire world within the confines of the castle. Strangest of all, one occasion, a candle would flicker and die, as if hit by some wind or whisper, though no others near it were touched.

The Count's habits were disconcerting to many. Tatsumi, however, had become used to the strange circumstances of his employer. He entered the darkened room almost soundlessly, sensing a strange disquiet in the room he'd seen so many times.

He needed to be calm, collected. He wasn't in this for himself anymore. Tsuzuki's welfare would depend on his ability to act completely unchanged.

"It's been a while, Seiichirou," came the voice, seemingly from every direction. It was a powerful echo, born of the strange construction of the walls.

"Yes, Count, it has." He paused. Should he begin, or…?

"I must admit, I expected you," the voice emphasized, "of all people, to finish this errand in suitable time. Or did I neglect to tell you of its importance?"

"No, sir." Tatsumi bowed his head in deference. He felt strange. The Count was unusually serious. Had he…had he made a mistake in not bringing Tsuzuki back immediately?

"Then you must have had good reason to take so long."

Tatsumi looked up, startled, and was met by a long, echoing laugh. He let out his breath and shook his head. "I see your humor has not changed, Count." He looked around the room, his eyes slowly adjusting. He was still able to make out the familiar paintings, the lines of families and the…interesting portraits made of subjects who were blissfully unaware of their being watched. The Count was known for having particular interest in observing the more beautiful of his subjects while being himself unobserved. Or so said the more tactful of the rumors surrounding the mysterious man.

"I must admit I have a…personal interest in the young Prince Tsuzuki," the Count said as the laughter died down. He paused, before continuing slowly, "A very personal interest…"

Tatsumi fought the wave of intense jealousy that bit into him as he heard the subtle nuance of the statement. He was used to the possessiveness now, but it was still nearly overpowering. Perhaps, he thought to himself, he should start believing the rumors of the Count's "interests."

A single knock shattered the quiet, and Konoe entered, carrying a pile of books and scrolls. He caught Tatsumi's eyes and gave a wry smile. "Those twins were having a field day finding all these things—plus a few dozen others."

The library housed at Meifuu Castle were said to be the largest and most accurate in the lands. However, rather than being filled with simple tales meant to seduce the tarrying man from his labors, the books in Meifuu were strictly historical. Any man seeking his long-lost kin might come to the libraries of Meifuu and be satisfied—though often the man would end up with full knowledge of his neighbor's lives as well. The keepers of these treasures were a pair of oddities known as the Guoshoshin, twin brothers whose faces were rarely, if ever, seen without the presence of a hefty, dusty old volume of lore.

Konoe opened up the first of the scrolls, and Tatsumi caught a flash of brilliant color. An illustration?

Konoe presented the well-worn paper to the corner, and Tatsumi caught sight of a pale glove fingering the scroll lightly. "Yes, this is exactly the one." The Count sounded vaguely amused. The long fingers gestured in Tatsumi's direction. "Show him," the Count ordered.

Konoe pulled the brownish material back, presenting it plainly to his colleague. Tatsumi handled the picture gently, opening it fully, and stared.

Tsuzuki?

No, no, his mind countered quickly. She…she…was not Tsuzuki, but…

What trick was this?

Upon the well-aged paper was a brilliant drawing, sketched lovingly in vivid color. His violet eyes, his shimmering brown hair, his pale, flawless skin—she looked exactly like him! Were Tsuzuki a woman, he certainly would have been the creature staring up at him from the scroll. Her eyes…sadder, yes, but still so alike. Her clothes were certainly satin or silk, bejeweled and delicately threaded. Around her neck she wore a trinket of deep red and green jewel, crafted to mimic a flower and leaf, the sign of the fairy-folk.

But the strangest aspects of the woman were her companions. Upon the tall back of her throne sat a most beautiful red-plumed bird. At her feet, curled as if sleeping, lay a black-eyed white cat, the like of which Tatsumi had never seen. Its coat was streaked with black, like the "tygers" of the farthest east, but…never had Tatsumi seen anything like it. And in her hand she held a strange scepter, around which coiled the likeness of a serpent.

"What is this?" he whispered, hardly trusting himself to speak.

"Ruka," came the reply, from the farthest reach of the room. "Queen Ruka, the first ruler of Chikyuu…the woman whose line bore Prince Tsuzuki." There was a sound of creaking, as if a chair were being moved, and light footsteps. "The Tsuzuki family has always been…gifted." The Count took an audible breath. "By the time the young prince was born, it was all but forgotten that certain members of the line still possessed these gifts."

"Spirit powers, you mean?" Tatsumi said, surprised. Such abilities were rare, yes, but certainly not warranting such hushed breaths and secrecy. Nearly half the people under the Count's employ possessed such abilities. "Surely you can't want him to join us?"

"Spirit powers?"

Tatsumi rarely heard such a degree of emotion in the Count's voice. He blinked. "That is what this is about, is it not? His spirit abilities, those that allowed him to live through all the years unchanged?" But even as the words left his lips, he regretted them. Something didn't feel right, something hadn't felt right since he stepped into the room. He hoped to every god he knew that he hadn't endangered Tsuzuki by mentioning his spirit abilities. Unconsciously, the shadows in the room seemed to stand at attention, no longer flickering from the little light that shone into the room.

A sudden peal of laughter rang out. "Calm yourself, Seiichirou," the Count said gently, calmly. With the slightest swish of a gloved hand—the one visible, at least—the shadows returned to their childish games, jumping and moving as if being blown in an invisible, unfelt wind. "I did not expect that young Prince to have inherited spirit powers," the man mused. He sighed. "But it is just as well. Tsuzuki is the last of that particular line, and if the gift has passed him over, it is likely lost forever." The Count sank back into his chair, disappearing fully from Tatsumi's view. "What manner of abilities have the spirit folk granted him?"

"He—" Tatsumi began to speak, but his voice deserted him. A strange sort of understanding was dawning on him. He...he'd never withheld information from the Count before, but now… He felt, somehow, as if he were betraying Tsuzuki, or endangering him.

"I have no plans to invite him to my service," the Count said coolly, as if he could sense Tatsumi's thoughts. "And you know, surely, that there are others I might ask the same question?"

Was that a threat? Tatsumi wondered. There was no malice in his voice, and yet… He took a deep breath. The Count could be trusted, he told himself. He was being foolish. "He's a healer," Tatsumi whispered, his voice strangely cold. "His wounds disappear almost instantly."

"Can he heal others?"

"No. Not that I've witnessed."

"Is that all?"

Tatsumi almost bristled. No, he wanted to say, no that's not all. Tsuzuki is so gentle, and learns so quickly, and he's so beautiful and… "Yes," he forced himself to say. "Yes, those are his only abilities."

"And his manner?" Tatsumi heard the ghost of curiosity in the Count's voice. "How has he adjusted to life in this era?"

"He learns quickly," Tatsumi replied, his thoughts rushing.

"It's been nearly a century since…" The Count drifted off. Suddenly, with a hint of something in his voice that Tatsumi would almost call perversion, he finished, "Though he does look quite good for his age." He chuckled at his own remark. Tatsumi was caught between sighing and lunging for his employer's throat. But he'd heard such comments before. "Indeed, isn't it hard, Seiichirou, to believe that the prince is your senior—and yours as well, Konoe—by several decades?"

Tatsumi closed his eyes, trying to envision the world Tsuzuki was born into. His wide-eyed innocence, his curiosity, his amazement at everything—it all made sense. Tatsumi almost smiled, a flood of memories of Tsuzuki's explorations blossoming in his head.

Then he blinked. How…How exactly did the Count know what Tsuzuki looked like? He arched a delicate eyebrow and cast a questioning gaze in the Count's direction.

"Where is Prince Tsuzuki now?" The Count's voice rang out.

"With Moth—with Ruriko," Tatsumi replied, trying not to let his suspicions color his voice. "At her home."

"Keep him there for now. It will take several days to inform his family of his return. But after a year, certainly a few more days will not bother you?"

"What?" Tatsumi's mouth went dry.

"As I told you," the Count said, sounding slightly miffed, "I have no wish to keep Tsuzuki in my employ. If it had been my decision, I would have left Tsuzuki there. I only agreed to undertake the mission on the request of the regent of Gonrakuu. He asked me to find him as a…personal favor."

"Why?"

"The Gonrakuu royal house is also of the Tsuzuki family," the Count replied sharply. "They will be overjoyed to finally hear of his safe return."

"You…you knew? You knew he was up there and you didn't do anything? And they…this family of his…they knew as well?" Tatsumi's voice had become very calm, very cold. It wouldn't have taken a fool to tell he was furious, and growing more angry by the moment.

"Tatsumi," Konoe whispered, making a move to touch the younger man's arm. Tatsumi pulled away, inching closer to the unseen body, the voice he'd followed thoughtlessly for years.

"Calm yourself, Seiichirou." The Count's voice commanded, without a hint of request. "Yes, I knew. I knew of his existence far before you and your father were born into this world. I knew of the rogue Shinigami guarding his sleep. I knew that it was Muraki—" his voice reflected his disgust as the name fell from his lips, "—who set the spell upon him. But what was there to be done? Even if we could have woken him, what would we have done with him? You, better than I, should realize that Tsuzuki was safer where he was." There was a pause. "He wasn't in any condition to be moved, Seiichirou. I didn't give you the task of finding him lightly. You were—you are—the only person I could have trusted enough to take care of him."

The anger in Tatsumi's veins disappeared. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He took a breath. Not for the first time, he felt the undeniable pull of his emotions, bottled up for so long that, on the rare occasion they won free, overwhelmed him. They frightened him, these strange feelings. Ruriko had taught him to control himself, to keep the undeniable reactions deep inside. But…it seemed, despite his best efforts, that they would remain buried no longer.

"Now," the Count began again, as if the outburst were already forgotten, "tell me, Seiichirou…about your encounter with Muraki."

Tsuzuki's stomach growled as the wonderful scent of cake assaulted his senses. Ruriko was a wonderful teacher. She was showing him how to decorate the cakes with icing. He watched her delicately drizzle the various colors in delicate patterns—flowers, clouds, rainbows.

What was Tatsumi doing right now? he wondered idly.

Ruriko suddenly pressed a small tube of the icing into his hands, urging him to try a design. Their first cakes were a tad flat, so they'd been commandeered for decoration practice.

"What does Seiichirou like?" he wondered aloud as he tried to think of what to try. He'd never…never really paid attention, he realized. Tatsumi was always asking what he liked, what he wanted to do, never saying anything about his own wants. So selfish…

Ruriko inclined her head thoughtfully. "Ah, Seiichirou never tells you what he wants. He's always so selfless." She leaned closer. "But I'll tell you a secret. Seiichirou really loves raspberries." She smiled and giggled, so girlish for a woman of her age. "And," she whispered, so soft Tsuzuki almost couldn't hear, "I'm sure he'll love anything you give him."

Tsuzuki smiled. The icing Ruriko had given him was red, so he began to craft something that was, unfortunately, not altogether like a raspberry.

"Don't worry so much," Ruriko admonished. "It looks wonderful."

Tsuzuki couldn't help but stare at the older woman, her dull, unseeing eyes. "Aren't you sad?" he whispered finally. "That you can't…can't see Sei anymore?"

"No." Her reply was so simple, so quick. "Seiichirou…he doesn't agree with me, but being blind isn't really so bad. I still have my other sight, my true Sight. I can still see my little Sei. I can see you. I can see how happy you make him." Her eyes sparkled, the way only an old woman's eyes could. "What else do I need?"

Tsuzuki wanted to reply. Nothing. The way she made it sound…absolutely nothing.

"Now, don't look like that," she whispered, affectionately touching her hand to his cheek. She shook her head, taking a deep breath. "Even…even when it did hurt me, when I did want it to be different…I couldn't…I wouldn't have told him. If he knew, even for a moment, that I was unhappy, he'd never forgive himself."

Tsuzuki nodded, very slowly. "I know," he said heavily. "You're so strong," he whispered back to her. "I…I wonder if my mother was like you. I know Sei must have been so happy when he came here."

"You could say that," Ruriko said, her voice pleasant again. She stepped lightly to the oven, checking the baking sweets. "A little longer," she announced.

"What was he like?" Tsuzuki's curiosity was still with him, even if it had, temporarily, been overtaken by his concern for Ruriko. "I mean, when he was a kid? Was he…different?"

Ruriko shrugged. "About as different as any child is from an adult. He was still mature, and protective, and completely focused on whatever he was doing. But he was…" A strange expression flitted across her wrinkled face. "He had trouble talking to people, even me. He was always so serious, like the world depended on him." Something like realization dawned. "He…he almost never was a child, not that I saw. He never cried, never asked for anything, never…never needed anyone to help him. He'd always just look at me, holding back his tears, trying to pretend nothing was wrong."

Tsuzuki's breaths stopped. He knew what she meant, could see it perfectly. Better than perfectly, really, because the image in his head…flickered. The handsome, confident man he knew, and a small, dark-haired boy…their expression exactly the same…

"You're smiling," Ruriko said softly. "I haven't seen you so bright since Seiichirou left, Tsuzuki."

For the second time, Tsuzuki found himself wordless, barely able to nod. When was Tatsumi coming back? What was he doing? Would…would he like them, these half-formed, clumsy little cakes? Would….would he want…

"You don't need such bad thoughts." Ruriko interrupted his twisting, expanding questions. "The only darkness that suits you is shadow."

The day grew dark, and Tatsumi found himself quickening his pace. His head ached with the strange tidings he had learned, and he resolved not to think about them until he was safe at home….safe with Tsuzuki.

Why was it suddenly so hard to keep his feelings inside?

Why did it hurt so much to return to the life he'd left? It was as if he'd been gone for a lifetime, an old man forgetful of his boyhood days.

And why…why did it make him so scared to think about his old life?

His fists clenched. It must have been the conversation, he told himself. It must have been because of him. Muraki…

The Count had explained, in far too much detail, how the mad doctor—the man he'd hated so long and so much—had cursed Tsuzuki. Had driven him into madness. Had forced him, seduced him to…

Tatsumi wanted to scream. By the gods, how could he have ever…

Muraki had still been human, then, the Count went on. He'd only begun his descent into the dark arts. Not a week after the celebration, a fellowship of the greatest and wisest men of the lands had caught Muraki. Surrounded him.

They tortured him. For every life, every crime, every lost soul…

But they could not kill him.

Not when he…

"Seiichirou!"

Tsuzuki's voice was so beautiful. All of Tsuzuki was beautiful, especially when he jumped head-first into Tatsumi's waiting arms. A beautiful…weakness…warm and soft and so very alive.

"Mmm, Asato." A sweet fragrance wafted up, making him feel strangely light-headed. He buried his face against Tsuzuki's neck, inhaling the warm perfume that adorned the expanse of soft skin. He recognized it, suddenly, as the rare, expensive scent Ruriko wore on special occasions, the scent he'd come to associate with affection and happiness. But…ah, on Tsuzuki, it was so much more intoxicating.

He wondered, fleetingly, if he might taste as delicious, too.

Tsuzuki was happy beyond words as Tatsumi's arms came around him. When Ruriko had given him the sweet-scented oil, he hadn't been sure what to do with it, exactly. But he recognized it. He wasn't quite sure how, but he just knew the beautiful scent as raspberry, Tatsumi's favorite. It…it wasn't quite like the sickly-sweet vanilla they'd used while cooking, nor was it quite as subtle as the white blossoms he'd known as a child. But, he reasoned, it was better that way. It was something only for Tatsumi…only for them.

He shivered at his love's touch, the face buried in the crook of his neck, and let out a soft laugh. "Sei…you're finally home."

"I wasn't gone that long."

"I know. But…" Tatsumi was so quiet. "Did…did something bad happen?" Tsuzuki whispered, his eyes suddenly fixed right into Tatsumi's.

"No," Tatsumi said quickly. He smiled, a little. "Something good happened. Different…but good."

"What?"

"I'm taking you back to your family."

"My family? But…" Tsuzuki drifted off, mid-sentence. He shook his head, taking a step back. "What family?"

"I don't know." No point in lying, Tatsumi thought. "But they've been waiting for you for a long time."

Tsuzuki opened his mouth, letting out the softest "Oh," before his voice left him.

They lapsed into silence.

Tatsumi fidgeted—if such a thing is possible—and looked around, suddenly noticing how late it was. "Asato? Would you like to watch the sunset?"

Tsuzuki nodded, a little too quickly. "Um…I…we made some cakes," he murmured, looking away. "Me and Ruriko, I mean. If you want any."

Tsuzuki's embarrassment brought a bit of warmth to Tatsumi's cheeks. He almost blushed, but voiced his thoughts all the same: "What could be more wonderful, Asato, than watching the sunset with you, eating the food my two dearest loves made for me?"

Tsuzuki smiled, so like the sun peeking out from the clouds. But deep down, Tatsumi knew that the thought was every bit as comforting to him as it was to Tsuzuki. So maybe he could forgive himself for saying something so…foolish.

He ached, his thoughts rampant, even when he was so close to happiness. Nothing came without its troubles, did it? Even something as wonderful as this tiny, budding love, was met with the first chills of winter.

Even if they were in love…they could lose each other. Their love wouldn't end the pain, the memories, the future so full of troubles…and yet…

…and yet…

The two men settled down on the soft grass that surrounded Tatsumi's home. Tsuzuki threw his arms around the older man, nuzzling his neck, all questions left unspoken. One of them shivered, and they instinctively moved closer. The doubts didn't disappear from Tatsumi's mind, not even in that sublime moment.

They were both terrified, he realized. So many things could happen, so many things they couldn't stop, couldn't change, couldn't imagine. Even being together didn't stop them from thinking. They weren't fools, imagining that love would solve everything.

But…it was a start, wasn't it?

"I love you," he whispered, a prayer, a promise.

"I love you too," Tsuzuki whispered back, a gentle, joking smile on his face. But it made his own declaration no less sincere. He only meant, Tatsumi understood, that now he truly understood what he was saying with those words.

It was enough, for now. Now was all that mattered.

The sky was beautiful, a rainbow without a storm, beauty without contrast. Red like life-blood, flowing through the sky's veins, wrapped in a cloak of silvery cloud as the great, fiery eye slowly went to slumber. It turned away from them, leaving the darkness to trail after.

He kissed Tsuzuki, there in the grass, under the dying day. So sweet…

"Asato," he whispered, but Tsuzuki didn't listen. He cupped Tatsumi's face, gentle and full of promises. Unbearably familiar…

He remembered. In the hazy, almost drunken bliss they shared, he suddenly remembered what he'd needed to say.

"Asato," he said again, his voice louder—or so he thought. "Promise…promise me…please…"

"Anything," his lover whispered, his eyes glassy, his lips parted in a warm smile.

"Look at me," Tatsumi murmured, waiting for some sign that Tsuzuki was truly listening. "Listen to me." When he was finally sure of Tsuzuki's full attention—though his own was hard to keep with Tsuzuki's hand caressing his shoulder like that—he forced the words from his mouth. "Don't…promise me you won't…won't ever hate." He drew in a breath. The words felt so heavy. "Don't ever hate anyone, Asato, no matter what happens…or what they do to you…"

"What?" That was the last thing Tsuzuki had expected. "I prom—"

"Not yet," Tatsumi said quickly, tipping his finger to Tsuzuki's lips. "Not unless you mean it." He chuckled, so softly. "You don't even know what hate is, Asato. I don't want you to."

"But you do," Tsuzuki replied, his eyes suddenly very focused. "Or you wouldn't tell me this."

"I do…I did. I don't ever want to again."

"Why?"

"He betrayed me. He took Mother's…took away her eyes," Tatsumi whispered fiercely. "And I….I feel…I feel so sorry for him! I can't hate him, I can't, I…I can't feel anything but pity for him!" Tears stung at his eyes, not enough to fall, but still there. "It hurts, Asato, to think that I can't…ever hate him again…" Oh, gods, how they stung at his eyes, 'til he couldn't see Tsuzuki's gorgeous face…

Tsuzuki just looked at him, not smiling, but not frowning. "I can't promise, then."

Tatsumi took a soft, shuddering breath. "What?"

"If…if that's hate…" Tsuzuki shook his head. "I can't promise…because I already…hate." His voice was…strange. Or was it just Tatsumi's own disheveled state that made him see and hear Tsuzuki so differently? "Even when they're long gone, I hate them. I hated their eyes, and their words, and their hands. I hate their memories."

He almost hissed, so unlike himself that Tatsumi instinctively shuddered. It…it couldn't be Tsuzuki, not his Tsuzuki, could it? This black, cold figure chillingly close to him? "Asato…no…you don't mean that," he said, disbelieving. "I don't believe you."

"Don't you?" Tsuzuki stared at him, so cold, for a moment. His entire body convulsed. "Sei!" he cried out, shaking, shuddering, shivering. "No, no I don't. I don't hate them, not at all!"

"Asato?"

He was still shaking, though less than before. Tsuzuki's hand rubbed gently at his throat, confusion in his eyes. "I didn't mean it," he whispered finally. "I don't hate them." He looked shaken…scared?

They lapsed into silence—such a cold, distant silence.

He was asking too much, wasn't he? Tatsumi tried to calm his heart. He hated Muraki, no matter how much pity he felt. And Tsuzuki hated his family, no matter how many years went by.

And yet…

"We'll just have to learn to stop hating, then."

Tsuzuki looked up, his eyes red. What was it, he wondered fleetingly, that drove these emotions out of him?

"We'll have to…forgive…"

Why did Tatsumi's voice make him feel as if every guilt, every blackness, every evil could be exposed, erased…?

"Won't we?"

Tsuzuki nodded mutely, but didn't say anything. He longed to voice the strange feeling welling up in him…that he hadn't, couldn't have said those words. But he did. As if…something else within him was speaking.

Tatsumi pulled Tsuzuki into an awkward embrace. He felt so…empty. As if the hatred had eaten him from within, leaving nothing but a gaping hole that nothing, nothing could fill. He pulled Tsuzuki close to him, painfully close. But even the warmth and softness of his love couldn't fill the ache he felt.

"I…I knew him," Tatsumi said, his breaths slow and deep. He swallowed. "Muraki. Doctor Kazutaka Muraki." Another pause. "I was young. I was sick…I wanted to die. I used to think it…it was my punishment."

Tsuzuki ached, physically and mentally. The more he learned about Tatsumi, the more he hurt inside. All his pain felt so small, compared to Tatsumi's. But it made him hurt more, not less. Why…?

"Mother cried so much, when she thought I couldn't see. But I couldn't….stop feeling the guilt." Tatsumi smiled, faintly. "It hurt so much I can't…I can't even remember it well. It's all blurry, and numb." He shook his head. "I know you won't understand…but…even Mother…I never could tell her…"

He laid his head on Tsuzuki's shoulder. Everything felt so...numb. The emotions were there, he could feel them…but he couldn't reach them. It was so simple to find happiness—in a kiss, an embrace, a look. But to find grief…anger…lo…

"I don't think any man ever lived more evil than Muraki, or more gifted. He could heal anyone of anything, if you paid the price. And my price…was Mother's eyes…and the destruction of the city." It was just like telling a story, a fairy tale. "No one ever realized he came because of me. Not even when they thanked me for helping extinguish the fires, for saving as many as I could…and begging forgiveness for those I couldn't. Would they have looked at me the same, if they knew?"

Tatsumi laughed, gently, quietly. "I told you before…I know my limits. I know that I couldn't have changed any of it from happening. But I did something unforgivable. And I paid…so much for it. I…"

He fell quiet, his breaths slow and steady. Tsuzuki held him tightly, his mouth dry. Tatsumi was so strong, he thought absently. Almost too strong. But, like this, he seemed so scared, so weak. He went from on extreme to the other without looking back. "I can't keep up," Tsuzuki murmured.

"What?"

"You're so much…more…than me." Tsuzuki sighed, gently. He wouldn't look up. "I can't understand how you could go through so much and still be so strong."

Tatsumi laughed, a warm, real laugh. "I can't understand you, either. I think you've been through so much more than I have…" He shook his head. "So innocent. You don't even care what I've done." His voice caught in his throat. "Don't you ever wonder, Asato, if I would hurt you someday? Aren't you afraid of the secrets I'm keeping?"

"…are you afraid of mine?"

Tatsumi paused for along moment. "…perhaps," he said finally. "But you wouldn't be the first person to hurt me."

"Me too." Tsuzuki kissed the taller man affectionately. "Tell me the rest. I want to know everything."

"How do you know there is anything else to tell?" Tatsumi's humor was gentle, but failed to hide the way he stiffened in Tsuzuki's arms.

"You don't want to hate him. Why?"

Tatsumi almost laughed again. Tsuzuki…so innocent, but so astute. He always knew, somehow, the exact thing to say, to ask.

"I stopped breathing." Oh, it was hard not to remember. The deathly cold, the darkness swallowing him up—and not caring at all. "And he…saved me. He brought me back, kept the air in my lungs until I woke up."

"So that's it." Tsuzuki smiled at him. "It must have been horrible! The man you owed your life to…"

"Yes… It was."

"My poor Sei…" Tsuzuki's arms encircled him. "I'll never hate anyone, I promise!" he whispered fiercely. "I can't bear to see you hurting so much."

"I know." The night was getting much too dark, even with the stars shining brilliantly in the sky. "Let's get to sleep."

"Mmm-hmm," Tsuzuki agreed.

There he was…that beautiful boy.

The ever-sleeping prince…

Tatsumi sucked in a breath. That dark silk hair. The sweet-red lips. That pale skin.

But still he slept, heedless of the admiring glances.

'Wake him up.'

His chest, so still and lifeless, begging to taste the sweet breath of life. So sweet…

'Let him taste.'

Lips on lips—but not like that. Gentle, and innocent, sharing life. Pushing the fluid air between parted lips, into too-still lungs, through an ever-cold body.

"Please…wake up…"

The boy's eyes opened.

No…

No…!

Blue eyes. Brown hair.

His own youthful face stared back at him, dark, accusing.

His hands…to pale, too fine. Silver in his eyes, blinding him.

His face lit up before him, as if within a mirror. But he was not himself anymore.

Muraki…

Fire everywhere. Stop the screams…stop the heat…stop it stop it stop it!

"I hate you!" whispered, screamed, echoing and vibrating from every direction. "I hate you!"

And gone, falling…falling…darkness and pain and helplessness. Can't move. Can't think. Can't breath. Have to breathe. Have to. Please…

"I hate you!" the only sound allowed to escape.

Breathe. Please…please…

Ah…

A gentle, tender sigh, as warm, soft lips capture his. The warm, hot breaths flowing into his mouth, swallowed and choked back up, restoring life and limb and so wonderful…

Savior…who are you?

Drowning, but so different. Drowning in white, in soft silk and warm flesh and soft breaths. Playfully sharing life. So different than before…

"No one ever touched me like this…" whispered in shock.

"No one ever wanted me…"

"And I have never wanted anyone…"

Everything he could want…everything he begged for…from the arms of his savior, his white-clad angel, inhuman and beautiful and…

He spoke. Mocking, cold…with honey-sweetened bitterness.

'Was this what the prince saw…what he felt…as he awoke in your arms?'

'I knew he'd stir your coldest of hearts…'

'After all…he was just like you, back then…'

'And you are…'

Don't say it!

"I hate you…so much…you monster."

Suddenly, Tsuzuki, in his arms, whispering gently, "I love you…" Innocent eyes. "Don't you love me, too?"

"…I…don't know…"

"…but I love you!" His eyes turned dark, accusing. "How could you not love me back?" The tears in his eyes… "I hate you! You've betrayed me, Tatsumi!"

…no…don't say that…

"Stop it! How dare you use him…his voice, his form…!" But it was useless to scream here … "I hate you!" he cried again, drawing a strange satisfaction.

But I have become you, his mind whispered treacherously.

"I hate you…I have always hated you…"

Laughter. Gentleness fading away.

"Let me go!"

But every struggle made it worse. White everywhere, burning his eyes like fire. Those tender touches everywhere, pleasure that made him ache with pain.

'Only if you tell me the truth.'

"No…" A sick moan escaping his lips. "I hate you!"

'Liar.'

He could see him, in startling detail. The flawless hands, with fine nails. The soft material of his long coat. Eyes…nose…cheeks…mouth…

'The truth will set you free…'

"I loathe you. I hate you. I wish I could have killed you!"

But his own self…he could barely see himself. His own body, his own color, his own mind…fading into white blankness…oneness…

There was no Seiichirou Tatsumi…no Muraki…

…just…

Insistent kisses, gentle and forceful. He couldn't help it…he'd never felt…so strange…

"You…tricked me…"

The words were catching in his throat. His breaths…so short…

His lips were caught in a terrible kiss, leaving him choking, gasping. Anything…gods, anything…have to breathe…have to be alive…anything!

"I…" Breaking away, just an instant of freedom so dear…

"I…loved you…"

"I loved you!" he screamed with his first free breath.

"I…"

"I…loved you…so much…Doctor."

Those eyes, blood-red…that warm, gentle smile…

…sneering…with contempt…

'And I never cared about you.'

'Fool.'

'As if anyone could love you…'

'…worthless…helpless…filthy…'

The tears stung his eyes…just like before…

"But I love you…" …broken whispers…

'I don't care.'

Hot, wet sobs, made Tatsumi's vision blur, his mind spinning and nauseous. He drew a hand to his face, torn between wanting to hold his mouth shut or trying to force out the disgusting feeling welling up from his stomach.

Lies. Even his dreams betrayed him. Everyone…betrayed him…

He'd betrayed himself.

What could he do but admit it, this black and horrible feeling within him? He'd…loved…that monster! With…all his heart, he'd…

A soft stirring next to him caught his attention. Tsuzuki…

He looked so beautiful, sleeping soundly. His pale skin beneath the blankets, his lips parted to let gentle breaths out, his face lit with an innocent, pure smile. Just a touch would wake him up, warm and alive, to comfort Tatsumi's darkened mind with words of love and tenderness.

Was this how Muraki had seen him…?

The warm arms embraced him before he could react, pulling him close to his love's sleeping form, as though to chastise him for even thinking of leaving. Tatsumi sank back down, laying his head on the pillow, a sudden weariness overtaking him.

Tatsumi shut his eyes, letting his thoughts drift aimlessly. He felt…safe…with Tsuzuki next to him. As if his past couldn't touch him, couldn't hurt him at all.

Thank the gods Tsuzuki still slept… He didn't want to explain, not this.

"He wasn't all evil. Today I finally understood that." He whispered the words without realizing it. "I don't want to hate him…but…"

The words the Guoshoshin told him floated back. He'd been the best doctor in the lands. He only wanted to save people from death. The darkness…wasn't his fault. He only wanted to help, so badly…enough to throw everything away…

The slow descent into madness and vengeance against a world where life was as fragile as a thread…

They'd tortured him, back in the days Tsuzuki knew, for his crimes innumerable. And in his last moment, mad with anguish, he had been saved from death, saved by the only person who could still see him as anything but a monster.

Muraki's dearest friend had killed himself to save his only love from death, sacrificing his body with black magic and blood, damning himself forever to the afterlife—with no chance of being brought back. And so had Muraki gained a second chance at life…with nothing holding back his madness.

"How could anyone love Muraki?" Konoe had asked, his voice thick with disgust.

Tatsumi almost collapsed, almost screamed right there.

"You have no right to judge, Konoe," the Count replied. "No one does, unless they have been through the same…pain." He seemed to stare past the older man, his gaze uncomfortably close to where Tatsumi stood.

Tatsumi wanted to forgive him, but…

…no matter what he told himself, he knew he'd never forgive himself, either.

Tatsumi would have cried again…cried for his pain, for Muraki's pain, for all the selfish and terrible things and…

But Tsuzuki curled close to him, his breaths soft, and gentle. "Sei…" he said in his sleep. "…love you, Sei…"

How could he say that, right when Tatsumi needed to hear it the most? Tatsumi started to move, to wonder, to…

But he stopped. Instead, he let himself lie there, chasing the black thoughts from his head. For a moment, it worked. "I love you, too, Asato," he whispered.

And it was true.

Author's Note: Please don't kill me…

I know I'm….very late…and I know I just wrote the most horrifying piece of writing ever…but remember, you need me alive to attempt to work on the next story arc!

Yes, I do know what it will be, and since summer's coming up, I should be able to finish it quickly enough. But until then, mull over the horrifying discoveries of Tsuzuki and Muraki's past and all the nice foreshadowing about Tsuzuki's family.