Chapter Five: Strong Together
Written by Holli. Editing by MorningStar.
(WARNINGS: R for abrasive, disturbing imagery (not the fluffy or hot kind), verges on being lemon; Tsuzuki x Hisoka; angst. AND A LOT OF SAP. There are some spoilers if you haven't seen/read Yami no Matsuei's King of Swords story specifically (anime episodes 7-9, and all of manga volume 3). There are references to things only seen in the manga in case you're wondering.)

It was amazing. Bizarre. And with the sudden standstill . . . the realization of holding onto each other's bodies . . . arms encircled tight and desperate . . . so much like when they were almost burned in the black flames of the serpent . . . . It was awkward . . . unsettling.

But right.

Hisoka felt his breath rustle Tsuzuki's shirt as he woke up; it was slightly damp with his tears and clinging still so tightly to it, even as he had slept. He had finally stopped crying because of his now relieved anxiety, with his eyes half open, staring at a far away picture of the two of them on the other side of the room. That was about all he could do, left extremely exhausted. How long had he slept there in Tsuzuki's arms?

Hisoka wasn't one for excessive decoration and possessions, but the photo he was looking at was framed plainly but neatly, sitting on a bookshelf; Tsuzuki happily eating pocky, as he tried to read. It was gleaming slightly golden with the evening light, throwing flecks of white on the opposite wall, and Hisoka found this one object something to center his focus on after his emotional release, since it was too hard to do just about anything else. But as he sat there, he finally realized what had happened, and where he was.

He had kissed Tsuzuki. More than once, and the second time had been so intense . . . . He had felt so much . . . so much of Tsuzuki's emotions, much stronger than when they just touched . . . and it was overwhelming what this man felt. Especially towards the teen.

A deep blush crossed his face, and he pushed against Tsuzuki who held him in a tight bear hug, practically in the older man's lap.

"Wha-what's wrong, Hisoka?"

"N-nothing."

Hisoka settled, sitting a couple feet from Tsuzuki on the floor. Tsuzuki gave Hisoka the dumbest look possible of confusion . . . after all that, Hisoka was becoming distant again? If Hisoka had seen Tsuzuki's face, even in that emotionally strung moment, even he would have laughed, but his face was flushed red as he stared at his fisted hands in front of him that supported his weight on the floor as he sat awkwardly. Tsuzuki blinked for a few minutes when it finally dawned on him. Hisoka had made an incredible confession to him . . . and he had confessed first. And this is a person that's afraid of closeness and intimacy . . . for many reasons, both past experiences and his empathy.

Tsuzuki relaxed and shrugged down, and merely smiled at Hisoka. He found all of Hisoka's reactions, both emotionally and physically very cute, but he didn't make any indication to tease him; when you had a past like Hisoka, you don't tease about awkwardness in these situations.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes! No! I DON'T KNOW!!"

Tsuzuki tried his hardest to not laugh, but he let out a small, good natured chuckle. Hisoka peered up at him, completely crimson in the face, and glared.

"What are you laughing at?!!!"

Tsuzuki smiled. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just so happy . . . don't misunderstand me." Tsuzuki inched closer and touched Hisoka's face lightly. "I understand Hisoka, okay? I may not know everything you're feeling, but I understand enough. We both have said so much tonight and it's been imprisoned deep inside for so long. Don't worry. We're going to take this new reality slowly. Okay? I never want to leave you sad or with bad memories. Never."

Hisoka stared up at Tsuzuki and saw a blush on his face too. He was nervous and apprehensive too, not as much as him, but the emotion was there. Hisoka tried to manage a smile, but couldn't, and instead looked to the floor again. Tsuzuki smiled brightly and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead.

"All right?"

"Y-yeah . . . ."

Hisoka let himself lean a bit into Tsuzuki, and Tsuzuki gently embraced him. After all this time, Tsuzuki knew he could be strong and support Hisoka . . . and he knew Hisoka would do the same for him. He snuggled a cheek into Hisoka's hair and sighed.

"I'm so happy."

Happy. Is this that feeling he had started to feel once he had met Tsuzuki? For the first time, he recognized the feeling that had started to grow. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He whispered softly.

"I'm happy too."

Hisoka heard someone once say they enjoyed nightmares. He had really wondered what they had meant (were they some kind of masochist?), until they said that they always figured out their nightmares were nightmares and then adjusted them to their liking as they slept. That was something only a few people could do, and Hisoka wished he could. But of course, he could not.

The nightmares he had were not ordinary. They were literally the curse induced kind . . . and even if he did not have this curse etched on his body, carved in the most malicious way possible by an angelic, sadistic doctor, he was sure he would still have these dreams.

He really wondered if he would ever be able to overpower those bad dreams.

That's what Hisoka thought about, late a night at about 2 in the morning, clutching at his covers. After finding happiness, true happiness that evening, Tsuzuki and he had ate a light meal and parted, Tsuzuki leaving Hisoka's house for his own home.

Hisoka felt even more alone than before after Tsuzuki had left, and hated this feeling of impending doom. He knew this dark premonition was completely unfounded, but after a life and afterlife of such pain and abrasive cruelty, he thought it was fate itself that was going to ensure that he would be never happy. Being truly happy. Was that possible for him? It was scary.

So now, he lay in his bed, not wanting to sleep, afraid of his nightmares as always. He was not utterly terrified, but restless about these thoughts, and tried to convince himself to sleep.

So of course, he could not.

That nagging thought in the back of his head that told him he did not deserve this, telling him that this pure, unadulterated joy was sure not to last; the more happiness he'd achieve, the most likely it'd be knocked out from under his feet, leaving him falling in despair.

Why did he have thoughts like this? Or rather, this feeling? Why?!

Somewhere around 3 in the morning, sleep finally found Hisoka.

It's always the same. When he suspects the evil torture to return, it does. But, when he doesn't suspect it, it still comes anyway.

Evil beauty. This soft white, angelic face, twisted in mirth. A soft glimmer on a cybernetic eye.

Eyes widen in shock . . . then terror. A dismembered woman . . . the man covered in blood under that lone sakura tree. That man's eyes glint at him . . . scrutinize him . . . as if examining prey. Isn't that what that look is exactly?

Labored breathing. Hisoka knows he has seen a murder. A murder by a pale madman, adorned in all white, but now painted in brilliant red streaks of blood. A psycho. Run. Run away. You'll die too.

Can't breathe. His health was already bad. Why of all nights did he walk alone outside, when the moon made it look like day . . . but now burned red?

He doesn't trip, but a clutching . . . a pull at the collar of his kimono, and he is spun around to face his pursuer. Dragged and pulled down . . . and back to under the tree.

Hands wander over his body. Hisoka stares at the man that hovers above him, leering over him, as petals continue to fall and settle on them both. He is talking, isn't he? Hisoka can't tell through the blurring in his mind. But he is acutely aware of everything happening . . . he wished he wasn't. A smile that never leaves that face.

Is he going to die? Becoming another faceless murder victim of this person?

He is so terrified, he can't move. He feels the pressure around his waist loosen . . . this man is undoing his obi. W-why?! He reaches down and unfolds his kimono, as if unwrapping a present. The sleeves come completely off, his legs sprawled apart.

He lays there on his kimono, entirely and utterly exposed. And this man . . . no hint of intimacy or comfort, stays completely clothed and examines his body. His lips curl up in an almost childlike sneer, but holding something far more sinister . . . looking at this boy as some kind of plaything.

A soft caress. He feels this man touch all parts of his body, the firmness of it, the soft places, places that had never been touched before by anyone but himself . . . .

Why is he doing this to him?

Hisoka cringed. He did not want to know. All he did know was that he was trapped within his own mind . . . watching sakura petals fall from the tree above him . . . a hover . . . a fluttering . . . as it touched down on his face. The tears that streaked down his face . . . not once affecting the doctor's intentions and no hesitations. Why?

He trembled. He cried. He tried to roll up to protect himself.

But this person . . . this man . . . this doctor called Muraki . . . would not let him.

He teases. He caresses. He inflames reactions in his body that his emotions do not want. He kisses and sucks on the most sensitive of flesh . . . rubs and twists. Somewhere in that torture, Muraki had lost his own clothing.

He feels himself respond. He feels himself crying and screaming. He feels himself spread open and mercilessly . . . quickly and painfully . . . stabbed through!

He screams. And screams. And SCREAMS. Screams until he can't find his voice. This cruel imitation of love making . . . that has nothing to do with love . . . he feels himself rock back and forth in those motions . . . . All he can do now is occasionally cringe and writhe. He has no power to struggle anymore.

His eyes glaze over, as he feels himself still moving. The doctor gives him a cruel kiss on the lips . . . mimicking true intimacy as he grins. The petals continue to fall . . . and come to rest on his face. He stares into nothing, barely registering those blossoms falling about him. Like the way he had fallen.

He can't feel anymore.

What is that screaming? That loud painful screaming. Who is that?

He realizes it is himself.

A scream. A scream for Tsuzuki.

"HISOKA!!! Wake up!!"

Solidness. He was sitting firmly in bed. The sheets and covers were tangled around his legs and pooled around his waist. But the only firm sensation of realness was the tense hands holding on to his arms, gently shaking him. He stared straight into concerned violet eyes. He finally shook the sleep from his eyes and cried out in realization.

"TSUZUKI!!"

Hisoka quickly pulled back from Tsuzuki and wrapped his arms around himself. He sat there breathing heavily as Tsuzuki almost whimpered in concern, sitting across from him. "Hisoka?"

Even though he was drenched with sweat, Hisoka was shivering and shaking violently, his voice stuttered, "I-I'm fine, Tsuzuki." He grimaced at sounding so distant to someone who was supposed to be . . . his lover . . . yes. His lover.

Tsuzuki had a hunch of what was going on. But he said nothing. Even as two who were suppose to be together now . . . he knew Hisoka still did not want to rely on anyone, like when he had a similar nightmare back on the ship, Queen Camellia. That hurt Tsuzuki . . . he knew he had to say something about that. Tsuzuki remembered how Hisoka had screamed for him then . . . but he didn't want to hurt this strong boy who felt the need to be independent. He knew then and now that Hisoka looked for him for help. And he wanted to be here for him. It was time he was reminded of that.

"Tsuzuki, what are you doing here? I thought you went home."

"It's morning. I came early to see you before we go to work."

It was still pitch dark, but Hisoka could see it was already 7 in the morning.

"I-I didn't want to invade your personal space . . . but I heard you screaming. I came rushing in."

Hisoka remembered he was screaming for Tsuzuki. Like he had done before, that time on the ship. He covered his mouth. This déjà vu hurt him.

"You were screaming for help. For me."

Hisoka stared up at Tsuzuki who still sat across from him, his hands still covering his mouth. "I-I was?" He winced and tears tried to come out his eyes, but he forbade it. He quickly rubbed them away.

"Yes. Hisoka . . . can I tell you something?"

Hisoka felt weak. A pitiful child. He cringed and he was angry for feeling inferior. But he knew not to yell at Tsuzuki. He knew this wasn't his fault. "Yes. What is it?"

"I . . . I . . . I am here for you. Always. I love you."

Hisoka peered up at him.

"But, I don't want to tell you just that. I think you're truly strong Hisoka." He stared at his hands in his lap. "I want to rely on you to protect me. I need you to. Please."

Hisoka gaped at Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki had not pitied him. He had not treated him as a child. He wanted him to protect him. To rely on him. Not the other way around. He was strong?

"Please, Hisoka? A-and, you can rely on me too! Please, can't you! I want you to! I need this so much! We . . ." Tsuzuki's face started to blush, "We are together now. I guess . . . lovers."

Hisoka blushed tenfold.

"It's okay for us to equally protect each other and comfort each other. It's okay to show our weaknesses. Okay?"

Hisoka nodded, and meekly crawled those few feet over to Tsuzuki and hugged the other man . . . breathing in his scent, burying his face in his shoulder and sighed. "Okay. Thank you, Tsuzuki. I'll do that."

"You're strong Hisoka. I need you. I love you."

The teen blushed and tightened his hug. Tsuzuki looked at Hisoka, and kissed him on the forehead. Then his nose . . . Hisoka blushed brighter as Tsuzuki kissed him on the lips.

Tsuzuki smiled. "Don't worry. I know you're strong . . . and we'll figure out our love at your pace, okay? Just like I said before. I know there has to be so much you're worried about . . . and scared about. Is that okay? I'll be here for however long it takes."

Hisoka felt tears, but quickly buried his face back into Tsuzuki's shoulder before he could see. "Y-yeah. I love you, Tsuzuki."

"I love you too."

Tsuzuki cradled Hisoka's head on his shoulder and hugged him closely. He felt his own tears creep out. They would be strong, rely on each other and protect each other . . . .

Together. As one.

TO BE CONTINUED . . . .