Standard Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei © Matsuhita Youko, Central Park Media, et al.
Rating: G
Summary: In the succession of days, Hisoka feels something slip away.
AN: I'm trying something a little different here. If the font size of your browser is set unusually large, the formatting might be off. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated. Enjoy.
Attrition
By Dorian Gray ([email protected])
Shinigami live forever.
So Hisoka should have guessed that it would happen.
Sooner.
Or later.
His alarm went off.
. . . I hate this thing . . .
. . . want to sleep . . .
Morning came through the window in pale beams.
. . . stupid job . . .
He washed, dressed, ate.
. . . bread's stale . . .
. . . need to go shopping . . .
. . . ah tea . . .
Walked to work.
Passed a few people.
Felt eyes on him, following his movements.
. . . lust . . .
. . . too young but cute . . .
. . . gorgeous green eyes . . .
. . . wish I had time to flirt with . . .
He opened the door and went inside the imposing building.
. . . worry . . .
Walked down the hall.
. . . four bodies found . . .
There was a new case.
No two cases are the same, but after a while they all run together.
Unlike Tsuzuki, he made no effort to remember the names and faces of all the people he killed.
. . . how many years has it been . . .
Tsuzuki himself was late again.
. . . irritation . . .
. . . that idiot . . .
Two hours passed before he finally showed up.
. . . depression . . .
. . . they are going to be so mad at me . . .
. . . anxiety . . .
Tatsumi yelled at him.
. . . I deserve this . . .
There was a brief meeting.
Who had died, when and where.
The blood-flecked details.
Tsuzuki looked at the crime-scene photos. . . . grief . . .
. . . horror . . . . . . anger . . . . . . guilt . . .
Hisoka did as well.
. . . should I feel something . . .
They were to gather information at a local high school.
Again.
. . . why do I always play the student . . .
. . . always play a nurse . . .
If asked a month later, Hisoka wouldn't be able to recall any details of the case.
He might remember the festival Tsuzuki dragged him to.
There always seemed to be a festival.
And, of course, there were always crowds.
. . . will he let me kiss him . . .
. . . glad to be here . . .
. . . with you . . .
. . . to see him smile . . .
. . . to share this with him . . .
. . . affection . . .
Hisoka got a headache.
Later, Tsuzuki would ask him if he'd had a good time.
Hisoka would only shrug.
. . . were any of those feelings mine . . .
He couldn't say.
So Hisoka went home again.
Took some painkillers.
. . . repeat dosage until the pain is all gone . . .
Got an ice pack.
. . . repeat until numb . . .
He set his alarm clock.
. . . why am I waking up tomorrow . . .
And went to bed.
Repeat.
Until the days all run together.
. . . days to years . . .
. . . years to decades . . .
. . . decades to . . .
Remember, shinigami live forever.