In'ei    
[Shadow]

A Yami No Matsuei Fic by Murasaki Suishou (murasakisuishou@yahoo.com) and the 
Queen of Blueberry Toast (TheKWOBT@gundamwing.net).

*~*~*

One- Sen [Wood Faerie]
[Version 1.1]

*~*~*

The alarm clock was chirping that morning, but every sane bone in his body began at 
once to insist otherwise the moment he made any attempt to rise.  His lashes fluttered just 
a bit, for even after twenty years there was part of him the really quiet expected to meet 
with a blinding earthly light.  But no, there was only the temperate twilight which, in 
perpetuity, did sweeping, uninterrupted steps over the Unseen World, not to be confused 
with Meifu, for in Meifu there were no warbling, be-winged treefrogs and chirpy pixies 
who, upon hearing "Golliwog's Cakewalk" tumbling from his alarm, began to murmur 
along, despite not knowing the tune.  

Watari was frankly quite glad the polka-dotted golliwogs hadn't decided to join in as 
well.  They usually did.  Which reminded him, somewhere in the tacit insistence that he 
had at least another hour to sleep as dim as it was outside, that there was something he 
had to do that particular day...

"Well, I probably won't remember if I fall back to sleep," So he sat up and reached for 
his glasses in the table beside his nightstand only to find that they were not in their usual 
ruffled compartment, which struck him as even odder than the fact the polka-dotted 
golliwogs had fallen silent.

Scratching his head, he made a very gallant attempt to get out of bed, but promptly 
tripped over the covers which, being silk, had slid off during the night.  All this not 
because he couldn't see, but because he hadn't looked, for it was, as always, another 
balmy morning in which he hadn't even realized his sheets had fallen off.  

A quick glance at what remained of their condition found they were in fact wadded up in 
one small pile, as if someone else had torn them off, and that his pajamas were with them, 
quite tangled.

"I wonder if this has anything to do with what I was supposed to do today?"

003, hovering over with her nightcap still on, gave a shrug and alighted on his shoulder, 
which prickled terribly because no shirt stood between the owl's claws and Watari's 
shoulder.

But with very little more thought too it, he decided that the present was more or less a 
lovely time to go about his morning stretches, which he did, oblivious to the open 
window and the screams of his neighbor across the lake upon beholding his bare ass.  
While this chased some remnant of his rest from him, there seemed to be a cloud 
hovering about his mind, hiding from him the temple of the one facet of knowledge he 
could not place his fingers on.  Oh, a million things he almost wished he DIDN'T 
remember came instead.  It disconcerted him... Not they, but that they had risen in place 
of else there was to be recalled.

Well, only one thing properly done when disconcerted by such folly as had left him with 
his fear of dying! All his muscles now properly engaged, and the neighbors properly 
frightened, he slunk into the bathroom and made as if to have a shower...

Only to be taken aback by what he found there, for a chibified Baphomet doll was sitting 
on the tank of his toilet, staring up at him with buttercream button eyes.  He didn't seem 
to be able to find on in his mental inventory of stuffies (he only had a FEW after all... or 
so he thought) nor was there any accounting there for a canister of whipped cream, 
though someone had obviously had a lovely time with one on his newly painted walls.

"Did I do that?"

003 shook her head and her master humphed, drawing his fists onto his hips.  But, no 
time like the present to clean up a mess.  He started a steamy shower, drew a few 
puffballs on the mirror once mist had formed upon it, and sent them about licking up the 
mess. 

He washed, and 003 washed, and they were both surrounded by suds and slurping noises 
the whole while.

"I really can't remember... wait..." a suspicious caramel gaze beheld the helpless owl 
who was whistling a little to clear the water from its nose or to claim innocence.  "AHA! 
YOU did it?"

One of the puffballs was good enough to point out his pet had no fingers.

Watari's head began to shake, nearly of it's own accord.  When he stilled it to brush his 
teeth, he found his temples starting to ache.  The cap had been left off his toothpaste, and 
somehow a new jar of Holy Dragon Toenails had appeared in his medicine cabinet where 
the aspirin used to be.

"That's OK, I'll make something then but first... I want some coffee..."

"Coffee! Coffee! Coffee!" The doodles all chirped and did well escorting him down to 
kitchen where he had to count them three times to make sure he had the right amount.  As 
it was, he quite emptied his jar of grounds for them, and when he went to make a note to 
buy more the next time he was neat a Starbucks, he could not find his tablet at first.

He looked in all the cupboards, in the most prominent trash can, in the refrigerator, under 
the glitter placemats... but all he could find of it were a few Origami fish that were 
swimming around his glasses with a few stray yogurt candy seashells.  These landed on 
his nose at once   

003 jumped down on the table and ate one as her master announced... "We only know 
ONE person who can stand such things! It must be! Tsuzuki is having a laugh at our 
expense!"

So he laughed, and while the coffee perked, Watari retreated into his living room to sit 
down and rub his suddenly throbbing brow.

His living room happened to be one of the plainer rooms, embracing in an otherwise 
western house some echo of the country he had once abided in, a little sunken, a little 
bare, trimmed but with a few of his books he had been reading and not put away.  It was 
white there, and all of the furniture wore clean lines that almost made one piece blend 
into another.  The only outstanding feature was the window overlooking the grey stone 
poking through the hills and the unoccupied side of the lake- the glass was cut there with 
a torrent of shooting stars, their paths mirroring that if the tiny waterfalls beyond.  
Through them the ever lasting evening came, parted with itself in pink and violet, and 
served as the only decoration.

Or had, until that morning.

At the moment, Tatsumi, asleep slung over the love seat was doing a fine job of being a 
trimming, for he was got up in mostly white.

Watari slapped his forehead.  "NOW I remember! Yesterday was my birthday! I 
promised myself before I got drunk that I'd make everyone go home and I..."

He sighed a little and 003 flew off to mind the coffee.  "...failed."   

***

Awakening came in stages for Tatsumi. First it was the nagging ache in his left knee. 
Then, it was the fluttering queasiness in his stomach. Then, it was the feeling that 
something vile had crawled into his mouth in the night and immediately died. 

Then, the throb of his hungover head made itself known. He fervently wished at that 
moment that Shinigami could actually die, for he would do so then and gladly. If it hadn't 
been for the fresh earth smell of coffee on the air, he wouldn't have opened his eyes at all. 
As soon as he did so, however, he instantly flung an arm across his eyes, even though the 
sun had not yet made its appearance in the morning sky. It just seemed the thing to do. 

He lay there thus, hoping that his head would quiet down enough so he could nod off 
again, but, alas! it wasn't to be. With a heavy sigh, he drew his arm back so that only his 
hand covered his eyes, and then, shielding them, made another attempt to look around. 

And was greeted by the sight of a whipped cream figure peering at him from the wall 
behind the sofa. It startled him, not being the sort of thing he expected to see the very first 
thing after a rare night of drinking, and he skittered away from it. 

"AAA!" 

And promptly landed on the floor amidst a pair of champagne bottles. One hand 
clutching desperately at his head, he reached for one, and held it out so he could get a 
better look at it. He had to, as he suddenly realized his glasses were no where to be found. 

Excellent vintage, famous brand. Trouble was, he did not remember champagne being 
served; didn't remember approving such an extravagance for the party, for that matter. He 
wouldn't have, at that. 

Just how much had Watari ordered? 

Oh, this was bad. BAD. With a lurch, bottle still in hand, he rolled over onto his knees, 
and attempted to stand by using a nearby chair as a crutch. So wrapped up was he in his 
labors, that he completely missed the hand his host had extended to him until he was on 
his unsteady feet. His leg, unfortunately, ached even more with his weight resting upon it. 

And there were faint grass stains on his suit in places. Some of them rather...odd places. 

What had he done last night? 

And even worse, how much did it all COST? 

Tatsumi turned to Watari, and, not wanting to actually speak, held the bottle out with a 
questioning sort of scowl.

***

Watari, who had in the mean time been cocking his head to one side in mimicry of 003's 
inquisitive pose, began to smile them.  His eyes teared up and his lips quivered.  At last, 
with a gleeful shriek that horribly startled his latest doodles, he snatched the bottle from 
Tatsumi's hands and cradled it as if it had become a baby.  And while such things were 
not entirely unlikely in the Unseen World...

"OH! You bought me *REAL* methode champanoise champagne! I bet I thanked you 
for it last night but just the same... WAI! WAI! Domo arigatou, Tatsumi! Oh, and look 
how THIN the bottle is!" Though it went rather to his eyes now, as a toy telescope now.  
"It must have been EVER so old! It's a wonder the thing didn't blow up during 
fermentation.  I think I'll keep this one for the other parlor so I'll always have a memento 
of last night, which I'm sure I'll want even more as soon as I remember what happened 
last night!"

He peered about the room then, by way of the glass, waving at the distorted ripple that 
was his companion when his gaze stole over him, he seemed to be curling to one side 
now and then, like he was falling over in a modern art painting or posing naughtily for 
some latter-day Boticelli, except for the fact he became just as leafy looking as the rest of 
the room as it swirled around him, clockwise and counter-clockwise with all the little 
birds of light thrown crazily by two pieces of glass before they reached Watari's eyes.

"You look a little green..." So he lowered the flask, blinking at the ridiculous clarity the 
room took without it.  "You look a little green without this!"

The bottle took its last journey for the moment and bumped against Watari's drippy, 
golden curls with a tiny, hollow clang.  "How silly of me! See? This is what I'm like with 
no coffee.  Speaking of which, would you like some? Or something for your head, I'm 
sure I can whip a potion or two up quick.  Can't remember the last time I had to make my 
anti-hangover serum, but I'm sure I've got all the stuff! It can't be that hard."

***  

"No, no!" Tatsumi cried, squinting miserably in his direction, more from the act of 
forming words and uttering them than from lack of clear vision. "I don't...want any 
potions. I don't think I could handle being inadvertently transformed into a muskrat or a 
condor. Coffee. Just a huge mug of black coffee in a heavily curtained room." 

/And I won't drink again. Not one drop. No matter how much he or anyone else tries to 
cajole me./ 

"I don't know what possessed me in the first place." 

/Oh...Oh, shit. Did I buy him that wine?!/ 

Mind whirling over the possible price of such an item, Tatsumi saw Watari throw him a 
broad, knowing grin over his shoulder, a precursor to either a bout of teasing or a 
rundown of all the creatures that could have possessed him for the night. Which, of 
course, would explain why it was he couldn't remember anything from the night before. 

Tatsumi wasn't sure if he wanted to remember. When Watari opened his mouth to speak, 
he waved a silencing hand in his direction. 

"I DO NOT want to know, Watari-san." 

Grumbling, he padded across the cold white stone tile of the kitchen floor, and took a seat 
at the streamer-and-horns littered table. Paper drink cups full of what appeared to be 
nothing more dangerous than punch stood here and there; a casual sniff of one proved it 
was spiked with some indeterminate liquor. With a soft groan and a marked grimace, 
Tatsumi set the cup as far away from him as he could get it, and put his head in both 
hands. The sounds of his host getting out cream and sugar and cups fell upon his ears 
from somewhere behind him. Tatsumi unbuttoned the topmost button of his shirt, and 
shrugged off his suit coat, letting it crumple in the space between the chair and himself. It 
was then that he realized his tie had gone the same way as his glasses. 

It was also then that he had a vague recollection of himself trying to steal a kiss from 
Tsuzuki by the waterfall. Tatsumi sat bolt upright then, staring off in horror at the wall 
opposite. 

If he'd tried to kiss him, then what else did he try to do?! And...did they...? 

/Oh. Oh...well, damn./ 

"Where are Tsuzuki-san and Hisoka-san?" 

***

Watari paused in his latest attempt to reach the very back of one of his topmost shelves 
and grinned as what milled miff the silencing his companion had given him melted away, 
though that grin followed suit just as quickly as it could.  One of the puffball creatures 
dropped the non-dairy coffee creamer on his head and one of the bags burst sending a 
trickle of French vanilla powder down one side of his nose.

He ignored it for the time being, taking the time to answer instead.  "I haven't the 
slightest idea!" not a twinge of worry to this, he almost sounded delighted by the 
prospect.  "But I didn't see them on my way down from my room, so I guess that they're 
lost around here somewhere, or that that made it home."

His bangs flicked about under his fingers and the touch of the faint breeze that wandered 
the perennial evenfall outside as he flung the window open.  The cool, fresh scent of the 
lake came tumbling in and the dust in his hair went flying in a little puff of smoke.  
"Judging from the fact they were good enough to tie my boat on the OTHER side of the 
lake where we can't get to it, I'd say they went home or we went swimming."

Once more, his consciousness chanced the shaky existence that was what remained in 
him of the previous evening, skittering over sensation and meaning, the little pieces of 
what remained... Tsuzuki wrestling Tatsumi in the grass while the pole for the raft 
drifted in circles on the surface of the water and was nibbled on by the ever-tenacious 
polka-dotted golliwogs.  Hisoka... being Hisoka.  The chibi Baphomet told dirty jokes 
that made someone cry.  The punch came to live on someone's coat.  He smelled 
nailpolish, felt wet, couldn't find his trunks...

But very suddenly, he remembered exactly where Tatsumi's glasses were.  A gesture to 
wait and he dashed outside, took the stepladder up onto the gable over the front entrance, 
took a fly-swatter to the pixies about and gingerly unhooked them from the final outside 
the bathroom's window.  Sadly, 003 confirmed for him all that remained of his 
companion's tie was hanging out of the toilet bowl, limp and dead and probably needing 
professional help to remove it from the depths of the pipes.

Watari triumphantly skipped back into the kitchen to find Tatsumi still having a staring 
contest with the wall.  "Look what I found!"  Giggling at himself, he slid the frames onto 
the face they had left, curling a few stray strands of dark, brown hair away from the ears 
where the hooks of them rested.

And then he went over to the coffee pot, which was just about to over flow, despite that 
coffee makers are generally designed to prevent such mishaps.  

Two great, big, celadon mugs filled almost to the brim with steamy, black, foamy liquid 
made their dripping and fuzz-collecting journey over to the table on the backs of the 
puffballs.  A sake cup brimming with the same followed suit then, as did 003 who 
alighted behind it, and fanned his own coffee with his wings.  

"So, what would you like with your coffee? I can make toast!"  A sack of Italian bread 
tugged from the pantry testified to this and landed with a plasticy thump.  "Or I can 
make... umm... oh no... bread! Or you can have bread with a side of toast.  Toast with a 
side of bread? Toast and bread with..." the scrape if a jar turning.  "Capers... ne? Oh, 
wait, these are newt's eyes.  Never mind! You know, I SWORE I had some marmalade!"

***

Crumbs of vanilla creamer dusted Tatsumi's shoulders, clung to his cheeks in insipid 
streaks, so fallen from the person of his host. Mixed with the scent of coffee and 
whatever lingering green smoke smell that Watari emanated from the ends of his 
burnished tresses--the result of hours spent in his laboratory. He wondered just what 
oddities lurked in its stainless nooks and cubbies. It had been ages since he'd been down 
there to witness the end of one experiment or another. 

He curved his hands around the generous cup (which, thanks to Watari, he could now 
SEE), and lifted it to his lips--but did not drink. It was enough at that moment to have its 
warm, moist vapors waft over his sickly cheeks. 

Now if he could only quell the lurching of his stomach, so exacerbated by Watari's 
mention of "newt's eyes." 

"Toast will do, no capers, no animal organs, just jam. Any kind of jam you have hidden 
in that cavernous refrigerator. That is, if you indeed have any jam left after having 
Tsuzuki for a party guest." 

"And make sure it IS jam, please," he added. "I don't want any nasty surprises." 

There was no telling what he had gotten up to last night, after all. He was, in fact, just 
then recalling something about him and...someone passionately embracing in the 
darkness, the scent of sleeping roses floating around them. It annoyed him greatly that he 
couldn't remember who that someone was--had not one fragment of a clue as to his 
identity. 

003 fluttered away from her cup, interested now in the red mylar strips which decorated 
one of the party horns scattered about the table. The tiny owl wrestled free a strand, 
dropped it before its pearly claws, and began to preen. 

/Only Watari would keep an owl as a pet.../ 

He took his first sip of the much needed brew, raising his eyes to an eye-level print of a 
reclining, half-shadowed, rather voluptuous nude on a chaise. An ornate necklace served 
as her only adornment. She looked over her shoulder with the air of a seductress. He 
couldn't remember ever having seen it before. 

Tatsumi half-turned in his chair to look at Watari, saying dryly with a nod at the 
compelling painting, "I take it she's not one of your creations, then?" 

***

"Oh my no!" Watari chuckled, as he turned one of several flasks he had pulled from the 
refrigerator over and over in his hand, trying to determine whatever lay inside.  (It sailed 
into the sink and broke whereupon a drove of long, skinny blue insects came dashing out, 
singing merrily, "We're free! We're free!") "But that is an original.  I found it in a 
museum... don't remember where, some place in Europe, but where else do you go to 
steal paintings? Anyway, I didn't paint her, but one of my doodles did.  It's the copy 
hanging in the museum now.  So far, no one's complained."

As if he had been talking about the weather rather than grand theft of any sort, Tatsumi's 
host, deftly popped two slices of bread into the toaster oven and went back to the 
refrigerator where he sighed in dismay but continued to rattle things about.  

No one answered him for the longest time, and it finally struck him that perhaps he had 
surprised his guest in a less than pleasant fashion.  And also, as he glanced down in the 
sliver of reflection the mirrored edge of one of the shelves bore, that when his robe fell 
away he had a rather large bite mark just below one nipple.  

He was glad then that the chill in the air from the ice box kept him from turning any 
suspicious shade or feeling too warm, and so stayed there a little longer than was 
warranted, quiet and pondering.  

/Because if this mark is here... and when I woke up, Tatsumi was here then.../

He tugged the robe down on purpose and had a better look at the violet bruise he wore, a 
smile gently drawing up his lips, bit by bit until he had a full, sparkling grin.  His 
headache by then had fluttered away of its own accord.  Shivers of delight had him and so 
rather he danced over to the toaster to find he had just barely avoided burning the 
contents.

003 gave him a look, Tatsumi was still drinking.

/AGH! He must be offended that I don't remember!/

/No, more than likely, he doesn't either./

/Oh, but I wish I did! Oh happy day! Brave world older than the human one where such 
wildly delicious things are./

The spirit of it compelled him to keep talking then, "You surely don't think I'm a saint? 
No, I simply wanted to see if I could get away with it.  The painting I mean.  She's pretty, 
right?"

The sip of coffee he had been about to take got another few moments to abide in his cup.  
"I mean, from a purely artistic standpoint.  Besides, the audacity of wearing a necklace 
when one has nothing else on, it just has that coy sort of sense, that silly decadence."

Watari promptly wished he had one such necklace.

***

"Whether or not I consider you a saint, which I DON'T, and whether or not the subject of 
the painting is pretty, which she IS--the fact remains that rules are rules and you broke a 
very serious one. Unnecessarily tampering with things in the living world! You know 
good and well that we are supposed to keep our meddling to a minimum." He took a sip 
of his coffee, dabbed at his mouth with a stray blue paper napkin. "I've a good mind to 
report you to the Chief." 

A pause, in which he forbiddingly scowled at him. "But I won't. Just don't tell anyone it's 
the original--especially not Tsuzuki. He might let it slip in a moment of small talk." 

/Probably at some tea party of the Earl's. I can just imagine what would happen then!/ 

/He'd probably proposition them both in exchange for his silence, lech that he is./ 

The idea of it bothered him, but Tatsumi couldn't really figure out why. Apart from that, 
he was feeling much better. The coffee was doing the trick. 

"I'll think I'll have a slice of cake if you have any left. If not..." he shrugged, and gave 
him a hint of a smile. "And then, I'll need to get onto those figures for the monthly 
budget. The Chief wants them by Monday, and I have stacks of ledgers to sort through 
and add up." 

He set his cup down, and idly began to toy with a bit of streamer, wondering over what 
might happen if he didn't, for once, do any work. And if he didn't do any work, what 
would he do? 

And who would he do it with? 

That same subtle, burnt wood smell tickled his nose as Watari leaned slightly over him to 
set a plate of bread and an nondescript jar of jam on the table. Before the good doctor 
could retract his now empty hand and head back to retrieve his own breakfast, Tatsumi 
snagged his wrist in his own and twisted in his chair so he could better see him. 

"...." 

The ability to speak had temporarily failed him. 

He swallowed, politely cleared his throat; even then, his voice sounded strangled. "I...was 
wondering what you were doing today?"

***

Watari's nose wrinkled up as he smiled then, just as softly as he could and for some 
moments he said nothing to his companion, preferring instead to let his obvious 
nervousness cool a little, and the skipping beat of his heart fall into more gentle steps.  
003 once more regarded them scrupulously before dipping her beak back into his coffee 
for a little sip.  It was almost as if the little bird had figured out Watari's scheme was 
having pretty much the opposite effect on both of the shinigami.  The good doctor could 
feel an uncomfortable pounding in the thumb pressing into his palms, one that mirrored 
the pulse in his own ears.

Though that he knew this was merely his heart jumping for joy rather than any other 
possible reason.  He'd been right then! Why, that devilish Tatsumi! But still, an admirer 
for his birthday. How romantic! How dashing!  How... COOL!

/...I'd better get on and say something before he suspects I've gone mute on him./  

/Even if it's certainly not what I expected! From who I expected it from! But still... you 
don't pass these things up./

"Well, I was just going to go into work and blow some things up like I usually do, but 
that's only assuming the unlikely event I'm needed in Chiki shouldn't happen to pick 
today to happen, which it will if I don't go in.  But then again, it's Chiki, therefore, it had 
better be used to waiting.   Why..."

He trailed off them, and pulled his wrist free for a moment, with a touch of an evil smirk 
darting over his features.  Mostly because he took Tatsumi's hand properly then even 
though he knew it would quiver a little in his own.

"...did you have something else in mind? I hope it's not as bad as my painting pinching."

***

Tatsumi gaped at him, at their entwined hands, inwardly at himself, then he shook it off 
altogether with a mild frown. What had come over him? Had he lost his mind? 

Probably. 

"Certainly not! I just..." 

/...You just what, Mr. Work-is-everything?/ 

/You've got him now, and you have no clue what to do with him./ 

Tatsumi swallowed as his gaze fell once more upon their joined hands. That Watari was 
holding his hand made him tremble a little all over again, for he wasn't use to such 
displays--especially not from his usual partner. Nor was he used to the curious little thrill 
he felt having those expressive, compelling, unobscured eyes turned upon him. It wasn't 
the first time he'd felt so. 

But nevermind that, Watari was waiting for an answer. 

Tatsumi adjusted his glasses, fumbled with his open collar, toyed with his cup. "You're 
always after me to relax, take more breaks because I work too much. I just thought it 
would be a good day to do so." He gestured at the windows. "It's a pretty day, and it 
wouldn't take me long to finish the calculations later, not really. And..." 

/...Some lothario I am./ 

He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "I thought that *maybe* you'd like to come 
along with me somewhere. Anywhere. Or not. If you feel that Chiki really can't wait, then 
that's fine too."

*** 

"Chiki can wait five years! That's how long it's been since anything happened there 
besides Muraki, and we haven't had a peep out of him in MONTHS!" Watari exclaimed, 
giving Tatsumi's hand a much more than friendly squeeze.  And then to his companion's 
befuddled look.  "Why, that's absolutely true! You've never seen me actually leaving or 
coming back from a job there, now have you? Not counting the checkups I do on 
suspicious parties but anyway..."

The good doctor pulled a chair over with his foot, and took his seat rather roughly so that 
all his tresses bounced about as he sat.  It was with both of his palms he now suspended 
Tatsumi's, and with the greatest sincerity he looked into his eyes.

003 seemed to sense what was coming and left her coffee be in the mean time, in which 
he designed rather to hide her face beneath her wing, which she did, with a dismayed 
little hoot.

"It's really you I am worried about.  No never go anywhere fun, unless Tsuzuki's 
apartment on a Friday counts even if you are there for non-fun reasons, so if you're very 
much willing to go with me, there is a place I'd like to take you! A fantastic, magical 
place few have ever been."

The pixies outside began to move their hands in mimic of his lips, but he shooed them off 
with a glare, for they certainly knew well enough by then that there was absolutely no 
way one could live in the unseen world as long as he had and still find it fantastic or 
magical in any way.

"Full of puffy pink clouds, and soft, satin rivers! A place where the old and the new exist 
in harmony! Where all things glitter merrily under the light of a thousand suns."

A slight pause to wet his lips with some of his coffee, which he had neither creamed not 
sugared much to his quickly stifled dismay.

Eyes all a-glitter, he finally made his proposition.  "Tatsumi Seiichirou, will you go 
shopping for ladies' clothing with me? No one *EVER* wants to join me for *THAT*."

***

The moment Watari had gotten that mad, intent glitter in his eyes, Tatsumi knew he was 
in trouble. But he had no inkling of just how much he was...until now. He let out a low 
groan in reply. "Are you still on that 'I want to be a woman' kick?" 

Watari nodded most emphatically. 

"Oh, why? There's nothing wrong with you as you are, Watari. I--uh..." 

Tatsumi nervously scratched around his collar and went for his coffee, trying not to dwell 
upon how good Watari's hands felt around his own. It was hard to do; after all, it wasn't 
everyday that he found himself so held by an attractive person, much less be 
propositioned by one. 

And just who's fault was that? 

"You know what I mean," he grumbled, propping his head on the heel of his free hand. 
"There's no need to change yourself. I doubt you're missing anything by staying a man." 

As for himself, he knew Watari was right: He was missing out on things. It wasn't the 
first time he'd pondered his lack of sociability; the fact that he was always so wrapped up 
in work. How many times had he awakened at his desk, still wearing the clothes from the 
day before, piles of ledgers and printouts and reports scattered before him? 

Too many to count. 

He then thought about how smashing Watari would look in a cream colored chenongsam 
with gold chrysanthemums scattered throughout, and named himself an idiot. 

Tatsumi opened his eyes and found the heart-shaped face of the purloined nude nestled in 
the frame of his fingers. 

"All right" he said at last, straightening up. "But anything you buy, *you* pay for. None 
of this, "Charge it to...." business. I'm not going through anything like what I had to the 
last time you went on a spree. I thought I'd never get all that accounted for. And the 
things you bought!" He took another sip of coffee. "Peacock livers and dragonfly wings. 
Vulture eyes! Sometimes I wonder if you're truly a scientist or some daft warlock in 
disguise."

***

"You forgot the infusion of tree frog spittle and unicorn whiskers," Watari pointed out 
quite calmly as he seemed to be weighing Tatsumi's hand between his own, shifting it to 
lean on one or the other.  At last he chose the right and so plucked his coffee up with the 
left.  He had a few deep sips (which he still had not bothered to dilute with anything 
whatsoever) before setting the mug aside and clearing his throat.

"THANK YOU! THANK YOU THANK YOU! 
THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!" Though that only lasted a second or two 
before dissolving into giggles once again.  While trying to recover himself, he went about 
dumping sugar and coffee creamer both into his mug, and nearly splashing the contents 
out everywhere in the process of course.  He drank form it then without stirring in the 
least and so, for the first few sips might as well have done without putting anything in it.  

"I promise I won't charge a THING! I got some money for my birthday, and it's been 
awhile since I cleaned out my bank account.  One WHOLE MONTH! But you know, if 
I'm going out after some women's clothing, wouldn't I be a daft witch then as opposed to 
a daft warlock?  It's probably a philosophical question."

A little shrugs then, and he did his best to nibble on his toast and grin at the same time.  
Why, by now he was flushed most indecently with happiness, as if rather Tatsumi had 
agreed to go on some interminable and lustful romantic cruise with him rather than stop 
by the Seen world and go through lacey things.  A consequence, the blush became 
contagious, and soon, they were both wearing it. 003 chuckled herself in owl at the sight 
and his master petted her head while still holding his breakfast, thusly ending up with 
buttered owl.  

"You mean you've... never thought about it? You know..." A wicked little wink.  
"Being in drag?"

***

Tatsumi goggled at him. "Certainly NOT! I'm a man of high rank in the offices of the 
JuMaChou. How would it look if I were to be caught in women's clothing?" 

Watari shrugged, and lifted the hand bearing his breakfast to his lips towards his lips, and 
Tatsumi hurriedly stopped its movement by clapping a hand over his inner wrist. He 
plucked a few straggling pinfeathers from Watari's butter smeared fingers, then wiped his 
own clean on his napkin. 

"Why would you want to wear women's clothes? Why do you even want to be a woman, 
Watari?! You can do everything women can, you know...uh..." 

"...I don't think that came out right, somehow..." 

***

"Oh, I don't know," Watari began, sounding every bit as merry as before as he took stock 
of his now de-buttered fingers and had another sip of coffee, the sugar in which had 
finally decided to surface.  "I think you'd look really dishy in a dress! But that's not the 
sort of thing you try to weedle people into doing, now is it?"

Tstsumi remained quite taciturn at this, and held up his own toast, which he suspended 
over his plate for some time, watching the melted butter trickle off of it into a slippy, 
yellow pool upon the saucer the bread had once inhabited.  

The good doctor shook his head to this and spoke more gently, almost crooning.  "You 
didn't say anything wrong, silly! It's a perfectly valid statement.  I really can do 
everything a woman can!" A deep swill of coffee was taken by 003, who thusly finished 
her cup and returned to her mater's shoulder.  There she began to preen, not hherself, but 
Water's ear and the few loose strands of hair around it.  The shinigami seemed to have no 
problem with this show of affection.  "Well, there is this onnnnnne teeeeeny thing."

The following pause served only for dramatic purposes.

"If I'm a man, I can do all sorts of wonderful woman-y things.  Except of course for 
being a woman."

***

Tatsumi eyed him over the rims of his glasses. "I don't believe you sometimes," he 
muttered, fumbling for his cup. He took a swig of it, and set it down, just barely getting it 
to the table before it tumbled out of his hooked fingers. He plopped his napkin onto the 
tiny splash of coffee he'd spilled as a result. 

"What would you do first," he said at last, lifting the remains of his toast from his plate, 
"if you were successful and did become a woman? Besides buy clothes, that is."

***

"Oh!" Watari exclaimed, sounding as if he had been suddenly pricked in the bottom with 
a pin.  "I hadn't really thought about that! I was going to wait and see if it DID work, 
THEN I was going to decide what I'd do.  Fascinating question though, truly 
fascinating."

Intending, it seemed, to otherwise fall silent on the issue, the doctor then had a little sigh 
and the last of his toast, which left his lips glistening and the front of his robe dusted with 
crumbs, all of which he swept onto the table where they lay, little disturbances against the 
party wares still there.  His grin had all the earmarks of one meant to tease Tatsumi's neat 
streak, save for the lasting.  It vanished at once upon his taking in just how serious his 
companion looked.  Something told him that staid stare had nothing to do with toast.  003 
chirped a bit, confirming this in fluent owl.

"Umm... well, I suppose the first thing I would do is ah... call everyone up and brag 
about how well I'd done."

That got him a credulously cocked eyebrow.

"You're right, I do that anyway, even before I'm sure what I've done will work.  Maybe 
then I would... err... well I could always... no, not first... how about... no, not that 
either... but then there's always... AHA! I KNOW!"

The flash of insight being to great to keep him at the table, he left it, and went scurrying 
back to his room, skirts of his robe dancing about him.  His pet shrugged unto his guest.  
The pixies gasped.  Something fell over in his bedroom with a terrific crash and he came 
dashing back into the room, something literally up some of his sleeves.

"Exactly what! I know exactly what! I can't believe I hadn't thought of it before! I'd use 
THIS!"

At which Watari whipped out a rather large yellow plastic vibrator, the switch of which 
he threw.  His whole grinning form began to wobble in tune with it, his teeth chattering.

***

Tatsumi just stared at his quivering comrade, aghast. Tugged at his collar and polished 
off half his coffee, then stood up, crossed over to Watari and flipped the switch to the 'off' 
position. Then he folded his arms across his chest and regarded the good doctor rather 
seriously. 

"Such silliness. *Really* Watari. I can't believe the very first thing you'd do would be 
to...ah...use that." He looked at the vibrator in blushing distaste, then looked away. Let his 
arms fall free and headed over to the coffee maker to fetch the pot. 

"And besides," he added in a very quiet tone, "one doesn't have to be a woman to use 
vibrating sex toys."

***

"But it helps," Watari concluded in an equally faint voice, only to end up chuckling over 
something he had planned to say next in the same sort of tone.  "Why are we whispering? 
It can't hear us... at least, I don't think it can."

He gave the vibrator a shake and shook his finger at it then.  "I didn't bring you to life 
last night and forget it, did I!?"

The sex toy made no answer, and so, landed on the counter where it got a little pat from 
it's owner, who then dove for the hand he had earlier relinquished.  Tatsumi's knuckles 
he liberally sugared with unassuming kisses.

"There, that should hold you now! I'm going to pop back to the spare bedroom to dress.  
You can use the master bath if you want to freshen up a little." A wink.  "I promise not to 
peek!"

Then, just like that, he had gone again, his owl fluttering on his heels and he tore down 
the hallway shouting, "Come, 003! We must get ready to away!"

***

"I don't know," Tatsumi murmured to those remaining, giggling drawings (most of whom 
had fled after their master). "I just don't know..." 

He poured himself a second cup, swept up his jacket from the chair, then headed off to 
the master bath at a more dignified pace. From the spare bedroom at the end of the hall 
came a flurry of hoots and Watari's laughter. Tatsumi paused just short of the master 
bedroom to listen, frowningly, before entering the room and closing the door behind him. 
He saw the film of butter and crumbs Watari had left behind with his kisses. 

Tatsumi brought his hand to his mouth and licked his knuckles clean. 

Once in the bath, Tatsumi hung his jacket on a hanger and hooked it over the shower rod; 
turned on the hot tap to get some steam going--his jacket was rather wrinkled. he set his 
cup down, and took a good look at himself in the mirror. The color was starting to come 
back, his glasses hid his dark circles well enough. However, he was in need of a shave, 
so, Tatsumi slipped off his shirt and hung it on the shower rod as well. Flipped off the tub 
taps and started the ones on the sink. He found a can of raspberry scented ladies shaving 
cream, and none other. With a sigh, he took it. His search for a razor produced a bright 
pink, daisy covered one. Tatsumi stared at it in disbelief, then shrugged, and picked up 
the can. At least it was a new one. 

And the shaving cream didn't smell too bad, either. A guilty glance at the closed door, 
and he lifted his hand for a whiff of the puffy pink cloud of foam resting in his palm. He 
could deal with it--he only hoped that the scent faded quickly. It wouldn't do for him to 
go out smelling like some fancy cocktail. 

In the steamy bathroom, he made quick work of his budding beard. Slipped off his 
glasses, and toweled the residue off his face and throat while the sink drained. Tatsumi 
flipped on the taps again to splash away the traces of his grooming from the white basin, 
and then cupped his hands under the hot stream of water. He splashed the water he'd 
gathered on his face, filled his hands and did it again. 

Already his headache was easing. Tatsumi heaved a sigh of relief as he dried himself off 
again, ruffling the towel through his dampened hair as well. He popped two aspirin from 
the bottle he found in the medicine cabinet and washed them down with half his coffee. 
Then he examined the bottles Watari had lined up on the counter. 

And twitched. They were mostly floral perfumes, with names leaning towards French or 
Italian. He picked up one such specimen--a bottle in the shape of a woman's corset-clad 
torso--and spritzed a bit of it on the air. 

And sneezed. 

"...Wata-rrrriiii..." 

That bottle wound up once more amongst its sisters. Tatsumi fumbled with the rest, 
hoping to find something vaguely masculine for him to wear. At the last, he wasn't 
disappointed. A plain, unopened bottle of lavender scented aftershave stood at the ready 
amidst all the curvy, brightly colored glass vessels. Tatsumi doused his palms and 
slapped it on his cheeks, his throat, the back of his neck. Fingered the love bite he 
suddenly noticed half-hidden just under the stretchy band of his white undershirt's neck, 
and smiled a bit. It made him feel a bit like a rogue--and he never considered himself as 
such. He knew no one did. 

More was the pity, perhaps... 

Tatsumi crossed to the bathtub to take stock of his shirt and jacket; both still bore a slept-
in look, but only slightly. Not enough to shock anyone. He shook out his shirt and slipped 
it on, buttoning it up as he padded to the toilet to relieve himself.  
But before he could get his fly completely undone, Tatsumi had grabbed his jacket and 
was stalking off to the other bathroom, calling down the hall as he went. 

"You owe me a tie, Watari!"

***

"Oh no!" his companion cried in answer to this.  "I meant to hide that before you saw it! 
I'm sorry, Tatsumi-san! Very sorry."

The door to the bathroom came sliding open then, though at first all that came out of the 
candle-seeming brightness from beyond was a procession of sketches, all glancing behind 
them, and the smell of aloe-laced rose water.  A little bit of shuffling then, and the 
faintest flutter of pink.

"One moment! Sorry, these stockings are just not co-operating today!"

A few little twangs of something silky being snapped into place, a sigh from the 
assembled doodles and Watari finally came out.

Or what at least LOOKED like it had once been Watari.  It was not so much the illusion 
that dusted that name from the figure before Tatsumi, but the fact that mirage had been 
brought about rather without anything to outrageous, too wild and sparkly.  Or made of 
leather.  The enchantment came as a diffident one, but complete still, without the glitter, 
or rather, too much glitter.

Watari wore a rather ordinary, casual dress of pink cotton printed here and there with 
little woodland flowers of taupe and blue.  He had tucked his waist in with a corset it 
seemed, for the cut of it had not been the least bit distorted, and the belt about him was 
not set too tightly against his skin.  More surprising than this, below the bodice, he had 
not taken great liberties with stuffing a bra.  No, if he had been a girl in truth, she was 
modestly endowed.  A little mint green cardigan with brass buttons that had not been 
fastened he had pulled on overtop of the dress- the floppy bow in his hair; the belt, the 
tiny, beaded handbag, the pair of low-heel slides dangling from his left hand, they all 
matched it perfectly.  There was makeup about his eyes- very pale seafoam, neither blue 
nor green and just a bit pearly.  His lips and cheeks had been powdered and pinked, his 
lips glossed but left their natural color; his glasses had changed though to a much smaller 
plastic pair with tiny white crystals at the corners of the lenses.  A chain of little gold 
ginko leaves enamel blossoms hung around his neck, and one much like it graced the 
white stockings on his left ankle, one such bloom in each ear.

He stood very still for a few moments, plainly wanting to be admired, and to softly stare 
back into that attention, looking for what his companion thought, rather than asking him 
straight out.    

"Maa maa! Silly me!" He said at last, padding into the interior of the spare room from 
whence he had come.  "We'll have to do something about it just the same.  I have some 
ties I never wear you can borrow, and no, anata, they aren't THAT kind of tie, I 
promise."

From the closet he pulled a hanger dripping with rather nondescript paisleys.  "Do you 
see one you like? If not, I'll buy you one while we're out, not that I mind if you go 
without, just for today." 

***

"Hm? Oh, the ties. Yes." Tatsumi nudged his glasses up his nose as he forced his 
attention onto the rack. Paisleys weren't his pattern of choice, in fact, he never went with 
patterns at all. Dark solids were more his speed, and so along those lines, Tatsumi chose a 
tie of tiny red and green paisleys scattered upon a field of staid navy. Holding it chest 
high with one hand, he walked over to the dresser, buttoning his shirt up to his neck as he 
went. He flipped his collar up, wound the strip around his neck and began the tricky flips 
and pulls which incorporated the process of tying a tie. 

But before he could snug the knot against his throat, or straighten out his collar, a pair of 
hands hovered up to finish the task for him. Very nice hands, but not so much like a 
woman's. They weren't slender or small or dainty. There was what looked to be a small 
chemical burn at the juncture of middle finger and ring on his right hand. Some sort of 
greenish stain slightly marred the nails of three fingers on his left. 

As he had said to himself: Very nice hands. 

Watari patted the edges of his collar, and Tatsumi broke off his examination of his host's 
hands, only to find himself doing the same thing to his face, his clothing. From a 
distance, he did look like a woman--perhaps, up close and in the eyes of someone who 
didn't know he was a man, he looked like a woman, for he was that fair of face to begin 
with. But to Tatsumi, he did not, as beautiful as he was. To Tatsumi, he was what he was: 
Watari in drag. And that--that was far more an erotic sight. 

He wanted to push him up against the dresser and kiss his lips clean of gloss; wanted to 
feel the silk of his stockings against his taut thighs. Tatsumi wondered just how Watari 
would react if he did that. 

And then he stepped back a pace, and waved a hand to the open doorway, and muttered 
in a curiously strangled voice, "After you."

***

Feathers, red and soft and enormous. The feathers of a Phoenix. Hisoka was lying in a 
bed of them, surrounded by various warm, naked bodies. That last bit of his dream made 
him want to melt, and the resulting fancies that followed after that point were so detailed 
as to attract the interest of his conscious mind, which in turn, engaged the physical to the 
mental. 

And so, when he emerged from the hazy eroticism of his dream, and became aware of the 
fact that he was bundled up close to a warm someone--albeit clothed--he was one happy 
boy. A sleepy smile crept over his face as, eyes closed, a uncharacteristically nude 
Hisoka rolled over onto his other side to gaze upon his bedmate. 

But instead of some lovely face upon the pillow next to his, he found a pair of feet, 
toenails painted a particularly electric shade of yellow-green; slender ankles that 
disappeared into a pair of wide-legged blue and red striped pajama pants. After that, it 
was all lumpy blanket. Hisoka's eyes widened, and then slowly narrowed. He snatched a 
handful of blanket and jerked it off the prone body beside his own. 

"Ba-KA!" he cried, scrambling out of the bed, pulling the top sheet after him and 
wrapping it around him. "What are you doing in my bed!?" 

It was Tsuzuki. 

***

There had been clouds of marshmallow over Tokyo, set adrift by peppermint winds and 
chocolate smog.  Suzaku came then and blew them all away- the air and the puffy sugar 
blobs so all was clear and clean for the real magic to begin.

He, clad in spun sugar, recited Old Mother Hubbered over Muraki's severed head which 
turned, without much complaint, into a large peony.  Following suit of the 
transformation, all the buildings in Tokyo began to change.  The Tokyo tower became 
apple pie.  The US Embassy, for some reason, became an even larger apple pie.  All the 
Hello Kitty pens in the Sanrio superstore became apple pies (albeit with kitty faces on 
them).  

"Wai...!" Dream Tsuzuki said with quiet, all enfolding awe, and he flew down, shedding  
bits and pieces of his garb along the way, for it was warm there in the city of apple pies.  
Warm like a soft, squishy bed with someone in it.  Warm like the embrace of a sexy 
naked person...

And then... it hit him.

"I have no ice cream..."

Miles and miles of apple pie! Millions of pedestrians turned into apple pie! But not one 
drop of ice cream! Vanilla or caramel! 

Those containers had themselves become... apple pie.  

"I'd settle for some cheddar cheese!"

But all that answered him was the gooey stillness... of apple pie.

"Whipped cream?"

"I'm sorry," Konoe said, shaking his head, "But the only thing on earth that HASN'T 
become apple pie is this jar of marmalade."

"But I don't like marmalade!"

"You don't like anything!" The peony complained in Muraki's voice.

"Nooooooooooooooooooo..." whimpered Waking Tsuzuki, who very suddenly realized 
he felt cold... had he fallen asleep with the windows open? What difference could that 
possibly have made in an apple-pie city? Surely, they hadn't cooled off already, why, a 
truly delightful sweet of that nature stayed hot and stick and dense for many long 
moments, not loosing the happy heat from its heart until the very last bite...!  "My pie! 
It's cold! Millions and millions of pies and they get all clammy before I can eat them! It's 
not fair! Pieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..."

The spoon that has spent the night perched in his mouth fell out them, landing with a 
spitty thump against the headboard.  Just enough to convince him, somewhere in the end 
of his dream, to awaken.  In front of him was an empty jar of marmalade, a flask of neon 
green nailpolish that was leaking onto his covers despite being closed, and a very naked 
and very perturbed Hisoka... who looked blotchily purple for some reason.  

"Forget that, where are my PIES and you PANTS!? Umm... pants first."

*** 

Hisoka gathered up the sheet and wrapped it around his shoulders, covering from view 
the much hated, full body tattoo he bore. "FORGET THAT!? Wh-what are you talking 
about? You are in MY BED, in MY ROOM! And I'm NAKED!" 

It was then that he realized that his clothing was nowhere to be found. For a moment, he 
stood there gaping, stunned. Then he gathered up his voluminous skirts in bunches, and 
headed towards the door. "Get out of my bed, Tsuzuki, get yourself dressed, and then I 
want to hear an explanation!" 

Of course, he wanted that because he, too, could not quite remember what he had done. 
Just snippets: Stripping off his clothes and skinny dipping in the pond; reciting dirty 
limericks; 

Sneaking after Watari and... 

Hisoka chuckled at that memory, a self-conscious blush stealing over his cheeks. That he 
had dared to corner him in one of the bedrooms and throw himself at him wasn't the 
surprise, but that the blond had gone along with it, at least, to a point. It made the 
sluggish, alcoholic throb in his head worth it...Well, almost. If he hadn't been drinking, he 
wouldn't have wound up in bed with *that* baka. He wouldn't have let him into his 
apartment at all! 

Okay, so he wouldn't have gone that far. Tsuzuki was okay, just not like that... 

Right? 

/No, no, no, you aren't going to go there! Just 'cause he's pretty...!/ 

So he forced away all thoughts of his unexpected bedmate and what they *might* have 
done, and concentrated upon finding his clothes. His jeans were found lying in the middle 
of the kitchen floor. His T-shirt he found dangling from a hanger from the chandelier in 
the living room. One of his shoes was in the palm in the living room, the other...Who 
knew? Hisoka wasn't in the mood to go looking for it then, either. 

His lone shoe he left in the foyer, his shirt he took to the kitchen and there he got dressed. 
Bundled up the sheet and tossed it into the living room, and out of his way. Then, after a 
check of his cupboards, he went to the stove to fetch the kettle. 

"Tsuzuki!" he called over the rush of the cold tap. "What's keeping you?"

***

"I can't believe I ate the whole thing..." Tsuzuki lamented with a sleepy grin as he turned 
the marmalade jar over and over in his hands, hoping to find at least one infatescimal 
blob of jam therein, as proof that he had not, once again, eaten "the whole thing".  But 
no, only faint orange streaks remained, left as veils across the surface.

He must has licked it clean.

Sure enough, very close inspection found a tongue print plastered to the inside of the 
neck.

"Well, no wonder I have orange breath this morning!"  Orange breath that tingled just a 
little with the dry feeling spirits of the liquid form left behind. 

"WOW! Watari's party must have been lots of fun!"  

Only one thing that really shocked Tsuzuki happened that day, and that thing, that one 
event or almost rather lack thereof, happened at the moment he spoke the name of his 
previous night's engagement.

For everything that he had witnesses from the evening before came to him in full stereo 
sound and was acted out, flash by flash by flash by chibis of his companions.  He had not 
forgotten one breath, one swig of champagne, one dirty joke.  The clarity of it all 
bewildered him, as if rather he had drunk the memories of those around him and knew 
them not on his own.  No, better not to think of that... better just to sort through all those 
etchi tales, party favors of chocolate and makeup, the rum punch, then all this blurring 
and shrinking down into cuter and cuter moments of inebriated innocence and lack of self 
control.  

All that was missing of his memory of sitting naked beneath the waterfall was the sound 
of the what conscience remained.  The imprint of Tatsumi's attempted kisses crept about 
him still, felt like the water that had so long ago left him.  The other Shinigami had been 
too wobbly to catch him right, even if he had not ducked the first time.

But he held him by the shirt and he shushed him and he...

"Tsuzuki! What's keeping you?"

Stunned into the non-chibified space called reality, he leap to his feet, tossed the nail 
polish and the marmalade jar on the nightstand since he didn't know where else he could 
possibly put them, tore out of the room, shedding his pajamas on the way, dashed into his 
own room, fished up the nearest pieces of clothing he could find (a black silk shirt that 
needed ironed and a pair of grey trousers which he pulled on backwards the first time), 
spit on his fingers, combed his hair into something the distant kith of order and with that 
sailed into the hallway outside the kitchen where the pale light struck him and brought his 
headache out around his eyes.  

All his other memories dove down back into the lake where they had come from, hiding 
under the pink frosting of it until needed again.  Only those concerning Hisoka and how 
they had ended up occupying one mattress appeared.

"You were wet!" Tsuzuki exclaimed.  "I didn't want to let you in my car.  You went 
skinny dipping in the lake outside Watari's house and then you took a shower, with your 
things ON! That's why! You took your OWN stuff off once we got home.  I didn't do 
anything! I swear!"

*** 

Hisoka had drawn a skillet off the overhead rack just as Tsuzuki had entered the kitchen, 
and this he slammed down with rattling force onto the stove top. "Then why do you 
sound so guilty?" 

He shot him an exasperated look over his shoulder, then waved him at him impatiently. 
"Oh, nevermind. It doesn't matter," he said, even though deep down, it did. Even though 
Hisoka felt an odd twinge of regret that Tsuzuki was so quick to deny it, and that nothing 
had happened. He knew the baka was telling him the truth, for he was a bad liar. 

/And I'm an idiot for even entertaining such notions. Besides... Watari's a better choice!/ 

A resolute nod, and Hisoka turned to get some eggs out of the refrigerator--what he 
wanted to eat; he had no idea what Tsuzuki wanted. It was then, as he rose from his 
searching, carton in hand that his eyes fell upon Tsuzuki, who was rummaging through 
their collection of cereals, whistling to himself. A box of sugary chocolate rice puffs 
landed on the counter. Hisoka rolled his eyes at him behind his back as he padded over to 
the stove. 

But all he could think about was how fetching he looked rumpled, hair still slightly 
mussed despite his efforts to tame it. Images of him crossing the kitchen and embracing 
him, tangling his fingers in that messy, dark mop popped into his head. They had 
distracted him so that the egg he'd cracked missed the skillet altogether, and landed on 
the rangetop; dripped down on to the eye and the metal tray beneath it. Hisoka growled in 
irritation, and hastily moved the skillet to another eye. 

Then, with a sigh, he set to work removing eye and its tray, and placed the latter into the 
sink. His eye fell upon Tsuzuki again, but he looked away when the other man turned 
around, feigning interest in the carton that stood open on the rangetop. 

"You want an egg to go with that?"

***

The milk carton paused just millimeters above Tsuzuki's lips, the last splash of liquid 
there, however- the one that just wouldn't FIT in his cereal bowl -that, with a drippy, 
white splash came down on his face as he turned it to Hisoka, thusly squelching his 
remark of "EWE YUCK! No WAY!"

Instead, he dove for a dishtowel to mop up his visage which he did, while sputtering 
various curses regarding the sanity of milk carton makers.  His companion perceived this 
as a "no" and went back to his skillet with a grumble.

"Annou... no thank you."

Even though he wouldn't have needed to say it; Tsuzuki HATED eggs unless they had 
been tamed into an omelet and served on top of bed of rice and breaded pork culet with 
pickled plum and loads of teriyaki sauce.  The thought of a platter of donburi only made 
his stomach go into a fit of complaints about its unusual state of emptiness.  The milk 
carton now adequately smashed by his bare foot, and his toenails having gotten their 
fifteen seconds of being admired (he was really astounded by his ability to paint while 
squiffy) he flopped down at the table and declared, "Itadakimasu!" to no one in 
particular.

Only to get milk all over his face once again as he dove into the chocolate soup of singing 
rice, and find, subsequently, that he had no napkin with him.  His sleeve sufficed in the 
mean time, though he turned in his seat to make sure he hadn't been caught.

And then it hit him... he really couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Hisoka in a t-
shirt (though, he did seem to recall it had been borrowed from someone else at the party, 
who wasn't important).  But then again, there was something else he didn't remember.

With a bit of a sigh, he left the remaining half of his cereal and once again took up the 
dish towel, which he soaked at the sink before carrying it and it's myriad of drips across 
the kitchen floor.

His partner's arm he scooped up in his own and began to scrub.

"Next time, we keep the magic markers away from Watari.  Hey! This doesn't look much 
like him? Does he draw well when he's drunk and... It's not coming off! What did he 
give you to drink before he did this?"

/You'd think you of all people would have taken a shower with THIS to show in the 
mean time./

A quick glob of spit with the hopes it would help.  The purple scribbles, however, were 
not coming off.

***

Hisoka jerked the towel out of his hands and shoved Tsuzuki away. "Don't spit on me, 
you baka!" he cried, swiping furiously at his arm until his skin ceased its curious 
prickling. "It's not one of Watari's creations! Or didn't you notice it's not moving in any 
way?" 

He threw the towel into the sink, twisting his arm to rub the damp patches against his T-
shirt. He'd forgotten. In his bleary-eyed haste to cover his nakedness, it had slipped his 
mind that he had worn that T-shirt under a long-sleeved shirt the previous night--a shirt 
which was conspicuously absent. There was no telling where he'd left it. 

But it didn't matter now. Tsuzuki had seen the tattoo, and there would undoubtedly be 
questions. He could feel his curiosity--along with his bewilderment and hurt--rolling off 
him in thick waves. Could hear it in his thoughts. Hisoka started to tend to his eggs, then 
banged the spatula down on to the range top, angry at himself for his slip moreso than he 
was at his partner. 

"I'll be back." And with that, Hisoka padded off to his bedroom to get another shirt. He 
pulled the first one he found (for he had many) out of his closet, shaking out the hanger 
and leaving it on the floor as he made his exit again, pulling on the shirt as he went. He 
was adjusting his collar as he re-entered the kitchen. Tsuzuki was sitting at the table with 
his cereal. A mournful flash of violet was sent in Hisoka's direction, one which he 
pretended not to notice, as hard as it was. He was practically reeling from all the 
emotions flying from his companion. 

The egg, now scrambled and lightly peppered and done to a turn, landed on his plate with 
a slice of bread, and a fork. Hisoka took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with orange 
Juice, and took it over to the table. He picked up his fork in preparation of that first bite, 
then froze. That cuff had fallen away a bit from his wrist and the purple mazing lay 
mockingly on display. 

Hisoka yanked his sleeve down and buttoned the cuff. Then he half-heartedly prodded his 
eggs with his fork. 

And after the cuckoo clock over the sink had noisily ticked out a handful of seconds, he 
at last mumbled, "...Sorry."

***

"S'ok," Snuffled Tsuzuki with a little bit of a nod.  "Should have noticed it wasn't trying 
to eat you." Another oppressive silence befell them then, broke by both the clock now, 
and the scuffle of his bare foot as it swung back and forth over the linoleum floor.  "It's 
not, is it? Trying to eat you I mean... you don't look like anything took a bite out of you, 
but I could be wrong!"

Hisoka responded to this with one of his very best blank sort of looks.  The sort the 
betrayed he was seriously considering answering, but the foolishness of the person across 
from him had more or less overwhelmed his politeness to the point he deemed it 
inappropriate to attempt to answer.

And unfortunately, Tsuzuki found, he was, once again, that person.  It made him want to 
sob into his rice crispies, which were either a) very embarrassed to the point of no longer 
singing or bsoggy.  Another bite of them revealed it was the latter.  At least they weren't 
mad at him! One never knew what otherwise inanimate objects might be riled in the 
presence of shinigami.  

Though Hisoka seemed fairly certain the purple curlicues that had stuck to him this 
morning were no visual interpretation of this... A quick pat-down of his memories 
regarding the party could find no such swirls about his companion's skin when he chose 
to swim in Watari's lake, sans anything but a few glittery barrettes and he just KNEW 
they hadn't stopped at a tattoo parlor on the way home.

His partner gave him a mildly softer glance once again rather than his eggs, which were 
steaming less and less as the minutes passed.  Tsuzuki wished dearly he would look  at 
him for some time long enough for he himself to get a good look at his gleamy zircon 
eyes, even if it wasn't comfortable for either of them... he just had that kinda haunted 
spooky-spooky look to him.  Like something was wrong, besides the purple lines which 
had apparated on his skin.  

/KYA! I've offended him! .............................................again./

"Eto... umm... I didn't mean that you'd think I thought they were... umm... ugly.  
They're not, I just thought, that if Watari drew them on you, they had better come off 
right away, kako-... umm... spiffy or not!"

But the vast quiet dragged on once again, neither of them having any interest any longer 
in their respective breakfasts.  With a noiseless sigh, he rested his chin in his hands and 
tried, tried his very hardest to think of something to say...

Of course, by then it had more or less occurred to him, that despite the fact he wasn't 
eating anymore, he could hear a very loud slurping noise beside him, like someone 
gobbling up very wet cereal.

Not to mention the soft, fluffy thing tapping his ankle now and then...

With a gulp, he turned back to his bowl and found, sadly, that he could not see it for 
something with snow white hair had decided to pretend the dish was in fact a saucer of 
cream worthy of being lapped up.

"Byakko, why are you eating my breakfast?"

"Because you weren't," The shikigami replied quite matter-of-factly.

"Ok..."

"Mmmmm!"

"You know, I WOULD have gotten you your own bowl."

A chocolate milk doused face popped up from the bowl and grinned at him.  "This was 
more fun."

"What are you doing here anyway?"

"Don't know..." And with that, he went back to doing in the remaining rice crispies, one 
of which managed a few notes before he crunched it up in the end.

***

But Hisoka, who was much used to Shikigami popping in out at will, hardly gave the 
munching tiger god any attention, for he had other, far grimmer thoughts with which to 
occupy his mind. Namely, the tattoo. It never appeared at random, only when he was in 
Muraki's presence, or ensnared in the web of one of his kinky dreams. Hisoka didn't 
remember any such dream, though, and he was fairly certain he wasn't at Watari's party. 
He nearly chuckled at the ridiculousness of that last notion, nearly. 

Hisoka forked up a bite of eggs, and as he did, the startling thought that Muraki might 
have stolen into his room that night crossed his mind on the heels of the others. What if 
he had? Surely, even in their inebriated states, they would have seen him? 

/What are you considering? You don't even remember Tsuzuki falling into bed with you 
last night./ 

The fork landed gently upon his plate again, and Hisoka just blankly stared at the cooling, 
congealed mass of yellow matter before him. He stayed frozen that way for a few 
moments, and then snuck a look at Tsuzuki, who was watching him rather worriedly. 
Their eyes stayed locked for an instant, and then Tsuzuki, with a deep breath, leapt to his 
feet and made for the cabinets. Hisoka could hear him rummage around the cabinets for a 
bowl, the cereal--the way it clicked as it poured. But then, all sound ceased from that 
corner, and Hisoka twisted in his seat to find Tsuzuki just standing there with his back to 
him, head slightly bowed, open box and untouched bowl on the counter on either side of 
him. 

Hisoka glanced down at the floor in embarrassed uncertainty, and then he got to his feet, 
biting his lip, and suddenly bolted out of the kitchen and down the hall to his own room. 
The door slammed behind him, forced closed by the weight of his body, and then Hisoka 
shakily lunged for the bed, and began dragging the sheets and blankets and pillows off 
the mattress with furious, trembling hands. 

***

"Now look what you've done! You've scared him off!" Tsuzuki complained to his 
uninvited guest, even though he was making his way over to the table, the cadence of his 
steps finding not the ire his words knew.  His bowl fell there with a clank and a rattle.  
The fridge produced no more milk so, with a groan, he took the seat Hisoka had vacated 
and began to eat his chocolate crispy rice... plain.  

"I can't help it I'm hungry!" Byakko retorted, his mouth full of half-chewed cereal, as 
was the air around his mouth shortly.  

"Well, you could at least turn back into a human and do it like a normal person!"

A spitty, milk-soiled tiger visage faced him with inquisitive eyes, and a tongue to dab 
away the errant liquid.  The beast seemed to shrug almost, but without another word, on 
any matter, morphed into its human form, which grinned and went straight back to eating.

Sans flatware.  Sans opposable digits.  

"You make we want to tell Nee-san what a bad boy you've been so maybe SOMEONE 
will punish you for being such a great big AHO!"

"Nee-san has better things to do than get mad at me for having such a good time at the 
party yesterday." This accented with a bit of flashed tongue.  

"THIS ISN'T ABOUT WATARI'S STUPID PARTY!" Tsuzuki had popped out of his 
seat, and was just about to pop his disagreeable shiki when it hit him and he boggled at 
the obvious part of the remark he had somehow missed.  "Ne, you were at the party? 
YOU WERE! I remember! I remember! AIE!!!" A accusing finger uncurled from his 
fists and wiggled in Byakko's general direction.

"Sure was! I had a blast! You'll have to summon me to scare off neighbors more often." 
A few gulps of milk here, for the crispies had already come to an end.  "You know who's 
got a great ass? That Tatsumi's got a great ass!"

"Ugh... barf."

Tsuzuki tried to stall the conversation long enough to change it's course by cramming 
several large spoonfuls of his breakfast into his mouth and taking far too long to chew 
them.  Glances though were still knowing there, falling between them.  Knowing and 
mutually ashamed.  

The shinigami's for many a reason, one of which momentarily began to haunt him.

Without a word, he rose from the table, leaving another half emtpy dish behind, though 
soon enough it found itself utterly empty and laved generously with Byakko's tongue, as 
was Hisoka's neglected plate of eggs.  The guardian, then finished, licked his lips and 
bounded into the living room where he flopped down on the couch and molested the 
remote to see if anyone was airing Tenshi ni Narumon at the moment.

As for Tsuzuki, he sighed and halfway steeled himself before tapping upon the door of 
his companion, not liking the scuffling sound behind it in the least.  Oh well, this, at the 
moment, was all he could do.

"Ah... hey, ki-... partner? You ah... umm... want some help with your laundry?"


(OOC: Tsuzuki knows Tatsumi tried to kiss him and is ashamed he found it titillating, 
especially in lieu of the fact he knows who made out with Tatsumi afterwards, not to 
mention the fact he himself had several embarrassing moments along those lines...)

***

Lowering the fitted sheet he'd been staring at to the floor, Hisoka set his wounded eyes to 
the door. He wanted Tsuzuki to come in, and he didn't. He didn't want Tsuzuki to see the 
bloody, semen-y mess his side of the sheets were in. Didn't want him to see what sort of a 
mess he was in. Hisoka's hands were shaking so badly that he had twisted them in the 
bundle of linen he held, hoping that would quiet them down. 

It didn't. His hands still trembled, as did his knees. He knew what had happened, even 
though he couldn't remember anything of the sort; that was the frightening perfection of 
Muraki's trick. He couldn't do anything to keep the tremor out of his angry voice, either. 
"N-No! I don't want any help!" he snapped. "Go back to the kitchen and play with 
Byakko, since that's what you're so fond of doing!"

***

Tsuzuki stilled his fist before it could tap once more upon the door at that, and he sighed, 
just a little, just despondently enough for himself.  But then he smiled again, because he 
was much better at smiling than at being despondent, and because Hisoka really wasn't 
himself unless he was having a conniption.  

Still, he sounded oddly hurt for someone who had gotten pissed over a bit of nail polish 
and marmalade in their bed.  Like... someone who had just been thrown naked before the 
eyes of a hundred thousand people...

He wondered just awfully just what those purple marks were! How had they gotten there, 
and why would spit, mother of all solvents, take them away?

Oh, he had a few ideas.  And then he left his partner be, shuffling off quietly as he could, 
back to the kitchen which had gone empty by then, except for a few dirty dishes.

Something made him put his finger in the eggs Hisoka had left behind, even though he 
knew they were cold by then, shortly in the sink with a murmur of disgust on his part.  

Over to the refrigerator he went then, and fished out a Styrofoam container, two days old 
at best.  Inside were nestled a few stray pieces of tempura- pumpkin and onion-carrot 
clusters mostly.  These he arranged on a plate and toted out to the living room where 
Byakko had made his nest.

"Neeeeee, heat these up for me."

The most of the time tiger gave him a scowl and polished the channel up button a bit 
more.  "Why should I, you've got a mic!"

"Because you know how tempura gets when you try to reheat it! I want it crispy."

A yawn, and a puff of blue light assailed the platter and the tips of Tsuzuki's bangs.  The 
hair was singed, the tempura crispy and sizzling again, only to be left by the bedroom 
door on a hot pad.

"OK, there's some leftovers there if you're still hungry, Hisoka.  Let me know when 
you're ready to start off for work.  I'll do the dishes."

(OOC: I'm guessing he chose to reheat the tempura because warmed-over eggs can get 
nasty.)

***

Hisoka clapped his arms around his skinny, shivery body, and just stood there, knees 
knocking in the midst of a pool of bedclothes. The tattoo was beginning to fade now, but 
it didn't matter. He could fancy his weight pressing down upon him, his hands roaming 
over him. 

And there he had thought the marks on his flesh had been given him by Watari in a 
moment's passion. Hisoka hugged himself tighter, fighting back the tears that nipped at 
his eyes. He forced himself to move away from the pile of linen, and forced one hand 
upon the knob. He regarded the plate with some trepidation, as he wasn't hungry, but he 
picked it up anyway. Eschewing the fork Tsuzuki had left, Hisoka plucked at the food 
with his fingers. He knew he probably looked quite ridiculous, but he didn't care. It made 
him feel better somehow to eat that way. 

And when he had eaten most of it, he set the platter and pad onto his dresser, and stripped 
off all his clothes and headed off to take a shower. He scrubbed himself under the hot jets 
until his skin was red and raw and only then did he emerge and re-enter the bedroom to 
choose his clothing. 

In the end, Hisoka wound up donning a pair of faded jeans, a yellow tank top, and 
lightweight zippered jacket of dark purple cotton. His battered black sneakers and a pair 
of black socks finished his outfit off. Hisoka hung back just long enough to settled a 
strand of dark wooden beads around his neck and then he scooped up the plate and pad 
and left his bedroom. A few morsels clung to his plate, and he picked them off as he 
walked. Byakko was sitting on Tsuzuki's sofa still, a bowl of caramel covered strawberry 
ice cream in his hands, all wrapped up in Kodocha. Hisoka rolled his eyes at the oblivious 
shikigami and strolled into the kitchen. 

But when he saw Tsuzuki, he came to a complete halt. His partner was standing by the 
window opposite their kitchen table, gazing out upon the morning with a wistful little 
smile upon his face. As he took in the sight of him, something deep inside Hisoka 
wrenched open, and he was suddenly filled with immense longing. Such emotion as to 
cause him physical pain. He had to make himself stop staring, and take his plate over to 
the sink. The water startled him when it gushed from the tap. 

When the plate had been sufficiently rinsed clean of residue, Hisoka reached for the 
towel they kept on a ring next to the sink, and quickly dried his hands. 

"I'm ready to go when you are, Tsuzuki."

***

In a candlelit, windowless basement room, a bespectacled, handsome, white haired man 
stood, turning slowly in place as he admired his surroundings. The cement walls had been 
covered with white shelves, all of which were covered by antique dolls. The rare shelfless 
spots were clad in black velvet, the floor in black paint, both providing enough of a blank 
backdrop for his collection. 

"My treasures. Did you miss me last night?" 

None of them answered of course, and rows of glass eyes in every natural shade sparkled 
unblinkingly back at him in the twinkling gloom. Still, their master behaved as if they 
had, for he smiled benignly, and strolled towards one wall of shelves. 

"I am sorry that I left so early, but you see...I had a visit to make. An unexpected one." 
Muraki laughed lightly as he petted the thick, trailing black curls of one doll. "He was 
ever so glad to see me, too. Ever so glad." 

Muraki withdrew his hand from it, and moved a few steps to his left to pick up another 
doll--one in pink and white gingham, and possessing long, honey blonde, straight hair. 
He cradled her in crook of one arm, curling a few strands around his finger. Its hair was 
the same shade of Hisoka's. 

"He moaned so prettily when I ran my hands over his body. Wept in his sleep as I entered 
him. Ah...So delicious! I almost paid his friend the same attentions, but you see...dawn 
was breaking as I finished with my beautiful toy. There simply wasn't any time." 

He lifted the doll up and placed a kiss upon its rosy mouth. "But there are other nights to 
love and be loved in, ne?" 

Muraki set the doll back in her place, and then turned away from the shelves. His eye fell 
upon a long, very wide, tarp-covered object that stood on a dais at the other end of the 
room. It was hooked up to a pair of machines which reached from the ceiling to the floor, 
and hummed quietly as they toiled. 

It was that which had brought him down to his secret room. Not a day or night went by 
when Muraki didn't visit it; how could he fail to? Why would he want to? 

It was the least he could do. 

He swept over to the dais, and lay his hands upon the object, not minding the chill that 
stung his hands through the heavy black tarp which covered it. 

"But don't you worry!" he said, addressing it now. "I haven't forgotten my promise. I will 
make you whole again, and I will enlist that Tsuzuki's help again. He won't escape me 
next time." 

Muraki gathered the fabric in his hands and began to pull it slowly away. "And then, we 
will play again, like we used to. All our old, dear games." 

The tarp fell to the floor to one side of him, revealing a frosted glass case. Muraki drew a 
handkerchief out of his breast pocket to dry the condensation from one spot, and there, 
immersed in a viscous fluid, appeared the face of a young, dark-haired man--but attached 
to his head was only a spine. 

Muraki bent over the case, and placed a kiss upon the glass where the man's lips would 
touch if they could. 

"My beloved brother. I will see you whole again." 

***

Elsewhere... 

Lord SohRyu had risen with the sun, and was currently lounging upon the red sateen 
chaise he kept by the windows in his study. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with 
books, and one lay spread open in his lap--The Art of War. Ah, there was nothing like a 
bit of philosophy to start one's day off. It was even better than the cup of Lapsang 
Souchong which stood at the ready on the small, narrow pedestal at his elbow. 

He broke off a bit more of the dry croissant he'd been nibbling at off and on, and set the 
book aside on the chaise. Lethargy threatened him, and he sought to shake free of its 
hold. Seiryuu rose with a vivid rustle of his heavy, elaborate robes, and shook a hand 
across his scalp; stretched his sluggish body back into life, and went for a turn around the 
massive room. Coming upon one set of bookcases, he drew a leather bound volume of the 
Rg Veda from one shelf, thumbed through it, then tucked it under his arm. Slid out an 
antiqued copy of Norse epics, but then put it away again. Light danced here and there 
across the ornate, Chinese garment he had installed in that corner of the room, and there 
his eyes were drawn. It was a costume with a befeathered and elaborate golden headdress, 
its robes silken and trailing and full, and made of layered shades of blue. It bore the 
theme of brightly colored dragons, and it was the sort to be worn in battle. Meant to 
intimidate and impress, as befitted a god. He paused there for a moment to admire it 
through the glassed cabinet within which he kept it, then he walked back to retrieve his 
tea. 

It was then, as he was lifting the cup to drink, that SohRyu looked to the arching 
windows opposite and saw Rikugou, suit coat slung over one arm and hair quite 
enticingly mussed, pause on the graveled drive and look up at some point above him. The 
young man lifted his hand in a wave, and then resumed his journey. SohRyu moved 
around the chaise, and came to stand before the window, watching the other Shikigami 
until the cypresses obscured him from view. Then he set his cup down on the floor and 
settled himself once more on the chaise with his new selection with a sigh. 

"At least Kijin didn't bring that Touda home..."

***

Kijin in the mean time took one last stock of his own chambers, for they really were 
exquisite.  Hard to leave, like a beautiful woman was to most men, though there were 
women worked into the painting on the walls- vaporous outlines on the fairer blue glitter 
above the cobalt which stood flat against the round walls; ripples in the lakes and billows 
in the clouds, for Kijin's walls were done up to make one feel as if they stood in the 
center of a lake in the breath of evening.  There were water lilies in it- luminous cotton 
candy and glow green.  Fireflies of peridot set into the plaster.  The very last blush of 
sunset towards the west.

And then there was nothing but the hallway for he most gingerly closed to door behind 
him and went to the hall window to make sure his companion was in place.  Rikugou 
waved to him, and he waved back as best he could when trying to hold up the immense, 
over-stuffed suitcase.

Though remorse for the first time in hours swallowed him at last... why, his dear, dear 
friend's hair was a frightful mess! Which was to be expected after a night of sorting 
through someone else's garb.  He dashed back into his room, plucked up the nearest ivory 
comb (which happened to be one otherwise lost on the platform of his bed- looking every 
bit new since no one had slept in it) and only then began to make his way down the 
winding, ebony staircase.  His door, on the first occasion on weeks, took the time to blow 
closed with a squeal.  The sound made him start and stumble down a few steps.  ON the 
next landing he stood with his heart in his throat, listening, waiting...

No sound greeted him but the rush of his own blood.

Kijin races down the rest of the flight and slid out the front door leaving only the echoes 
of his footsteps behind.  On his own front porch he paused to find his breath, sweeping a 
few cerulean tendrils away from his face.  He could only just sense the form of his father 
in one of the upstairs windows.  The thought of him so close, with eyes so given to 
finding him... made his fingers wet.  The suitcase nearly fell.  He had to gather it into his 
arms like a child to keep it his.

SohRyu receded them, gone to other concerns it seemed and he, smiling for joy, tore 
down his drive way and into the cypress woods to the place near the shoulder of the road 
where he had promised to meet his accomplice- a tiny half-meadow littered with willow 
dust and the smell of dead leaves though none could be seen in the middle of spring- only 
lily-of-the-valley and some white violets and clover, which he fell into, panting.  
Rikugou's hand stole onto his back.

"Thank you..." he choked out and fumbled with his pocket for the comb, which he 
managed to take a hold of and sweep through his friend's hair a few times before he 
could speak again.

"Thank you for helping me escape."

***

Rikugou pulled the hair tie he always kept on hand loose from his wrist and wrapped it 
midway around his long, heavy sweep of hair before swinging the lot over his shoulder as 
he was used to wearing it. He only wished he'd had time to braid it and truly keep it out 
of his way, but as it was, they had no time at all. 

"Don't mention it, Kijin," he said as he relieved the boy of his suitcase. "You just go 
ahead. I have us a coach waiting on the other side of those trees. It'll take us straight to 
the Suzaku gate. Touda swore he would be waiting for us on the other side." He gave the 
boy a friendly pat on the shoulder and then waved him on. "And now, we'd best hurry." 

The two sprinted the last few feet to the end of the drive and there, as Rikugou had 
promised, was a plain coach of black wood drawn by six griffins. No driver, but then, 
they didn't need one: The griffins knew the way. Rikugou handed the boy into the cab, 
stuffing his voluminous robes in after him, and then lashed his suitcase to the luggage 
rack. Gave the straps a testing tug, then hopped back to the coach window. 

"You're ready, Kijin. The gate guardians know you're coming, but Wataba-san will be 
waiting there to greet you, just in case." He gave him a smile, and then ran over to the 
griffins and leaned down to murmur into the lead one's ear, "Go." 

It rose onto it powerful haunches, followed by the rest, and all at once they broke into a 
gallop. The coach took off smoothly down the gravel drive for a few feet, and then lifted 
entirely off the ground. Rikugou stood by, thoughtfully watching it sail away in the 
direction of the Southern gate. 

"Good luck, Kijin-sama."

***

Kijin waved until he knew himself to be no more than a blue inclusion in a tiny black 
wisp somewhere just below the sky and just above the treetops.  He blew one kiss then, 
before he sat back down.  Just was the very least of thanks he could offer his companion 
from where he sat now, so far above GenSouKai, or wished to sit at least.  He found 
himself far to giddy to do more than resist pacing.  His toes wiggled even as he was still, 
leaning against the wall just inside the carriage, for there was no need for anyone else to 
see well.

Not for awhile.

"Sieur?" one of the griffons called then, "We can assure you the very smoothest ride, but 
please be careful if your going to stand.  You may get a bump if we land."

"Ah, alright."

Puzzling over just how they had known where he was in his compartment bore no interest 
for him, and besides, it took all of his concentration to convince himself to sit at least, or 
rather, to kneel upon the silver cushions which responded to him, knew him at once, 
trying to coax him to sleep.

The thought of Touda's hot lips steeling against his own kept him awake though.  More 
awake than he had ever been.  And shivering with anticipation.

***

Rikugou bestowed much the same treatment on the receding specter of the carriage, 
keeping all of his eyes upon it until it had sunken into the sky, though no kiss from his 
lips followed it.  He sighed at last though, one palm still waving as he turned around.

"NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, Ri-chan? Why are we waving good-bye to Kijin-nichan?" 
Tenkou finally piped up, turning her expectant eyes upon the young scholar.  Her clover 
halo flopped down over one eye, but she made no move to shoo it away, or break her 
questioning stare.

***

Rikugou curled his fingers over the unblinking eye which had marked Kijin's passage, 
frozen to the spot by the child's mirrored gaze. Then he let it swing to his side, and gave 
her the most beneficient of smiles. "Well, now, Ten-chan, fancy finding you here. Your 
Nii-chan is off to see Nee-san. She unexpectedly invited him over for a visit, and well, 
one doesn't refuse Nee-san. No, no." 

A shake of his head and he gave hers a gentle little pat. "Now...won't your Otou-sama be 
looking for you?" 

*** 

As it was, Ten-chan's Otou-sama wasn't looking for anyone. He was roaming the halls of 
his mansion, cup in hand and sword heavy upon his hip, en route to the stretch of lawn 
behind the mansion. It was his habit to engage in a bit of sword practice after breakfast, 
and today would be no different. 

But every step he took closer to the atrium, and the doorless portal that led to the back 
lawn, the emptier he felt--as if a part of him had been stolen. As if he'd been tricked. 
SohRyu stopped just short of the threshold, ignoring the seductive scents of the wild 
thyme and mint that mingled with the grasses, and unhesitatingly turned and stalked off 
back towards the main hall, one hand over his heart. 

They were of one heart, he and his children, or so he'd often mentioned--so now, why did 
he feel he'd been cheated? 

And why, of all people, had he done it? 

Every door and window in the mansion opened seemingly of their own accord, and the 
Dragon King bellowed, "KIJIN!"

***

Tenko very shyly raised one of her dainty hands to her lips, trying to hide what curl they 
had taken, though it was doubtless she expected to be able to truly conceal her expression 
from Rikugou of all people.  Her eyes frowned enough for her anyway, and not just any 
mark of dissatisfaction. 

She nodded, but did not speak up to him.  Simply bowed, and skated off towards the 
house, seeming to have taken all of his words as the truth.

But then they BOTH heard it.

"KIJIN!"

The little girl shikigami whirled on her toes and gasped so that her brother's co-
conspirator could see her do so. Her finger shook at him, wavering just a little as if she 
was having second thoughts about reprimanding an adult.

Just the same, she called back to her father with nearly a smirk to her words.

"TOUSAMA! Kijin-nichan is trying to elope with Frown-san! AGAIN!"

*** 

"And, that is my cue." With a jaunty wave towards SohRyu's mansion, Rikugou sprinted 
off across the road and onto another patch of open green, making for his own, more 
modest tower as quickly as he could go. He would probably catch it anyway, knowing 
SohRyu and grudges, but he didn't care. It was worth it just to give Kijin a chance to 
escape. A chance to vex his stuffy father. 

And, of course, he could just freeze him in time again if he got too unruly. Rikugou 
figured he *might* do that anyway. 

As for the god in question, SohRyu had stormed out onto the lawn when no one but their 
frazzled housekeeper had answered him. The moment his feet touched the lawn, he shed 
his human guise and soared into the air in his true form. The sun cast rainbows off his 
glossy scales, glinted hard in his enormous black eyes. 

Over the cypress grove he sailed, arching high and then plummeting sharply again when 
he saw his youngest standing on the far edges of the lawn. 

"Tenkou, get back into the house, and don't leave it again until I come back!" he ordered, 
writhing in dizzying circles above her head. "And if you ever pull any stunts like this 
when you are grown, I'll lock you in your room for 3,000 years!" 

An angry snort and the massive, undulating dragon was speeding through the sky once 
more. The sulfuric scent of the griffins was still heavy on the cold air, and SohRyu 
charged after them with a furious roar. 

"KIIIIJINNNNN!"

***

In the wake of her father's departure, Tenkou dashed for the house, her skirts sailing all 
around her, and a slight, sad grin scattering itself over her lips.

This way at least, she knew she would not every be alone at home.  This way at least, she 
was being good... wasn't she?

Either way, her little feet bore her up the stairs into the south tower where the telescope 
abided, and with a few words from her, it sought out the aerial disturbance of the rest of 
her family of its own.  It did not, however, summon any popcorn.

***

A very loud, very unhappy sound woke Kijin from his fantasies, and upon coming face to 
face with the present, he found himself enrapt in his own arms, for they, of their own 
accord, had circled her shoulders in the midst of the latest caress to grace his 
subconscious form.  Startled, he found himself glancing about the lacquered walls of the 
carriage a moment, before he heard it again.  His name, shouted on in the form of a 
tempest from the living incarnation of which that happened to be his father.  

The very first thing he did was flush then, because he usually blushed when caught in the 
midst of anything remotely naughty.  And then he blushed some more, because the 
reaction happened to be shared with things he did when he felt like an idiot.  As he did at 
that moment.  

"Why!" he sighed to himself.  "Why? WHY! WHY!? I ask the spirits what will come of 
all this and I see myself in his arms! I ask them if I shall escape this time, and they shame 
assurances to me! If I asked them if the run would rise, perhaps they would tell me no! 
This if getting INSANE!"

His face fell into his hands and the carriage lurched them, struck with a rain-scented gust 
stronger than any that could have puffed anywhere on earth.  Oh, he knew the glint living 
now on the edges of the window.

This time, Kijin did not hide from it.

"Please keep the door closed while we are in motion, sieur! We may make it yet!" One of 
the griffins called as he tried his very hardest to keep his mid-air footing. 

As it was, he could not have complied with that request if he had wanted too, for the door 
promptly blew off and went hurdling into someone's garden.  "No!" the godling insisted 
to them with a stamp of his foot.  "This is my liaison! I won't let you be put in danger.  
Fly away as fast as you can once I've jumped!"

"JUMPED!? SIEUR! SIEUR!"

His feet left the steps into the compartment where he had been once more dreaming of his 
lover.  The air burst all around him as he began to fall, and his clothing blew off like 
petals all around him.  For all of a second, he let himself be weightless while he changed.

It was not a boy greeted the lord of the east, but a translucent wyvern the color of the 
Riviera waters on the very clearest of days.  One with three pairs of wings, three eyes and 
a horn like a unicorn's set in the star upon its brow.

"I was going to come back, 'Tou-sama! But now I find I can not even leave."

Lo and behold, wyverns could whine.   

***

Across the compound, under the sheltering roof of a small gazebo at the rear of a vast, 
gated house, sat Suzaku, aka Nee-san. She and her companion, fellow shikigami 
Kouchin, had been having their morning repast there because the day was so fine. Or it 
had been until about five minutes ago. Now, thunder was rolling and echoing through the 
heavens, and rain was coming down in sheets. 

And there they were, dressed in only their pajamas. Not the sort of garb for foul weather. 

Suzaku set her cup of tea down on the table and flopped back in the hammock she was 
lying upon, arms behind her head and glaring at the stormy sky. 

"I wish SohRyu would get over it already!" 

Nestled on a pile of cushions on the floor, Kouchin ceased her playing, one hand falling 
across the strings to silence them. "I don't think he will, not until Kijin gives Touda up." 

Suzaku made a sound of disgust. "Touda. Of all the shikigami and shinigami he could 
choose from, why did he pick *that* clown?!" 

A hint of a smile crossed Kouchin's artfully made up lips. "Oh, I think that's quite 
obvious." 

"You don't mean to tell me that you find him attractive?" cried Suzaku incredulously. 

"Why, yes, I do. And Kijin and I aren't the only ones." 

"Anyone who finds Touda attractive has horrible taste." 

Kouchin began to laugh softly behind her sleeve. "I don't know about that." 

Suzaku broke off fuming at the sky to scowl at her companion, who, as she found was on 
her feet and moving towards her. A cloud of lotus perfume enveloped her as Kouchin 
drew alongside the hammock. 

"Let me play for you, Nee-san." 

"I'm...not in the mood for music." 

Another enigmatic smile. "Who said anything about music?" 

Suzaku grinned, and unwound her hands from behind her head, holding them out to 
Kouchin. Much rustling and giggling and groaning of wood ensued. And then, 

"Nee-san? Is that a *door* in the midst of your prized peony bushes?" 

"What?" The hammock frame once more creaked in protest as the dark-haired guardian 
bolted upright on their rope bed to better see her garden...and her ruined bushes. 

And then she balled her fist and shook it at the heavens. "SOHRYU!"

***

"You were going to come back? You would dare come back wearing that man's ring?" 
SohRyu puffed a thick plume of mist from his nostrils. "I think not, Kijin. At least, not to 
*my* house. I couldn't stand to have that creature under foot, lounging in my study, 
drinking my best sake--pawing at my own beloved son! No!" 

The great dragon circled his wyvern son, leaving a wide arc of rain and vapor in his 
wake. When he came up behind him, he butted him with his nose, just hard enough to 
show he meant business. "Now, you go on home. We'll--" 

"SOHRYU!" 

SohRyu drew back with a start just in time to see Suzaku's fist shake at him from the 
ground below. None too happy at being interrupted, he let out a tremendous roar. The sky 
erupted in another violent bout of thunder and lightning. 

"Go on, Kijin, before Suzaku gets it in her head to transform. I am in no mood to deal 
with her temper." 

***

Kijin though, did not flutter off at once, but spent some moments glancing back and forth 
between dragon and lady.  Even in wyvern form, he managed to sweatdrop terribly upon 
gleaning the source of Suzaku's rage, for there, in a bed of angelic pink nestled... his 
door.  And there, just above that bed of angelic pink, in a halo of mist was... the reason 
said door now abided among peonies. At least half of it... the other half... was him.  And 
only him! Yes! For one shining moment, Sohryu might have been delighted with his 
son's state of mind, for there was nothing in it remotely concerned with Touda, or 
Touda's stunning physique, or Touda's pouty lips, or Touda's magnificent ass.

NO! It was all guilt! Guilt! And lots more guilt!

"Go-gomen nasai!" He wailed.  "Gomen nasai! I did not meant for any injury to be done 
to your POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOR flowers! Oh Nee-san! Gomen! Gomen! 
GOMEN!"

The shock though, seemed to be far too much for him.  With no apparent warning, Kijin 
popped back into his human form, had shrieked, not because he was plummeting 
earthwards but because his clothing had of course, not chosen to re-appear upon him.    

His father dove for him, probably while wondering just why it was the boy hadn't 
remembered be could levitate.

But, then again, he wasn't the only one coming to Kijin's rescue.  In fact, he quite 
bumped heads with the second would be savior.  Kijin landed between them, on a bed 
halfway shimmering scales, halfway (much to his nosebleeding disappointment) very 
soft, very large, bare female bosom. 

Before the lord of the west stood an enormous woman, or at least, the top half of one, for 
rather than legs, she had a spined tail of metallic copper which split into three spines of 
glinting green at the end.  Her hair was blazing electric indigo and fell about her as the 
only cover she chose to wear, her eyes of flaming pink, the angel wings sprouted form 
her back ghostly white.  The biwa slung over her back was still black though.  

"YOU!" Kouchin hissed.  "How dare you wantonly destroy Watashi no Nee-chan's 
peonies! HOW DARE YOU!!!"

***

The dragon lord drew himself up indignantly, and emitted another furious, potentially 
ear-splitting bellow, to which the monster that was Kouchin barely blinked at. "WHAT 
ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! I did NOT destroy Suzaku's blasted peonies! I--" 

Those two enormous, glossy black eyes shifted to his faintly blushing, chagrined son. 
"KI-JINNN--!" 

The godling in question gave his crackling father a sheepish grin. But before SohRyu 
could say anything more to his errant son, there came an unearthly shriek from 
somewhere above them. The trio looked up to find a gigantic, blazing Phoenix hovering 
overhead. She screamed at them again. "YOU'VE KILLED MY PEONIES!" 

SohRyu scowled fiercely at her, and moved away from Kouchin and his son. "NOW 
YOU WAIT JUST A MINUTE! SUZA--" 

His voice trailed away as the phoenix arched up, and with a great flap of her wings, came 
swooshing down upon him in a river of flame. SohRyu unhesitantingly flew up to meet 
her. The sky soon lit up in bolts of lightning and arcs of fire, neither attack strong enough 
to actually kill (as they were gods of equal strength--just vicious enough to singe.) 

"MY PEONIES!" 

"I'LL MAKE REPARATIONS!" 

"TSUZUKI GAVE THEM TO ME! THEY CAN'T BE REPLACED!" 

"EVERYTHING CAN BE REPLACED!" 

At once, the barrage came to a halt. The charred phoenix drew up short, and a nasty smile 
for her smoldering opponent glimmered in her eyes. "Is that so, SohRyu-sama? How 
interesting. I wonder if you will feel that way if I should..." 

With a wrenching cry of glee Suzaku wheeled about and winged madly for SohRyu's 
manor. The horrified dragon was after her in a clap of thunder, roaring as it went. Alas! 
the phoenix had gotten too much of a headstart on him; Suzaku arrived before he did. She 
hung in the air, gloating at him as he came nearer, and nearer... 

And then she let loose with a stream of fire upon his beloved cypress grove. Countless 
trees became little more than torches. "There!" 

"SUZAKU!" 

But the phoenix only cackled wildly, and spun in an arc far above him, dodging his 
attempts to strike her with lightning. "Fair is fair, my lord." With that, the phoenix bolted 
for her own house, and Kouchin, leaving the cursing god to his extinguishing efforts. 

And across the compound, in his observatory tower home, Rikugou--who, like Tenkou, 
had been watching the proceedings from a telescope--fell back in his ratty armchair, 
hands folded together before him. 

"Ah, SohRyu, you should have just let Kijin go to Touda."

***

Kouchin in the mean time found no reason why she shouldn't burst into gales of wicked 
laughter, and so did, but not before catching Kijin by the back of his neck, for the 
bouncing of her bare and massive chest cause by her merriment had sent him rolling from 
her bosom.  Not that he felt particularly more comfort being suspended between a pair of 
claws several thousand feet above some very hard ground and pointy rooftops.  Though it 
was not the most dire thing that had ever befallen him, and would not be the last.  He 
wanted to laugh too, but he didn't.  Instead he asked the question that had been be-
deviling him for some years now, days in Shikigami time of course.  

"Kouchin-san, what is it like to have a normal day?"

The winged snake maiden at this fell silent and pondered for a moment.  "I'm sorry, I 
haven't the faintest idea."

"I thought not, but thank you for trying to answer."

Silence once more they knew between them, but neither above nor below, for shortly 
there were cries of amused alarm from the earth and a thunderstorm true erupting in the 
previously clear heavens.  The sky turned muted indigo and bawled outright for the dead 
cypresses.  Perhaps also, the godling feared, what was to become of his bottom in the 
near future.     

"Would it be a frightful lot of trouble for you to take me back to Rikugou's house, 
m'lady?"

She nodded, much to his dismay.  "Oh no! You are going straight back to your father's." 
her finger shook at him upon seeing his miserable facevault.  "You don't want him 
madder at you than he already is now.  You'll just have to think of something else," a 
wink, "if you understand me."

"Well..."

"Have you attempted to convince him Touda isn't so bad?"

"Tried it."

"Bribed him?"

"Tried it."

"Reasoned with him?"

"Tried it, was grounded for a month."

"Oh yes... umm... drugged him?"

"With what?"

"I don't know that either, but you're running out of options."

"Touche."

But Kouchin gave him as bright an enigmatic smile as enigmatic smiles can ever hope to 
be, and cradling him now in the crook of one of her arms, she fluttered over to the 
mansion where he and his family abided at places him very gently on one of the covered 
porches of the upper rooms before taking off, calling all the while, "Nee-san! Let us go 
home before the rain extinguishes you."

***

Meanwhile, at the Suzaku gate...

Wakaba began to sort around in her pocket book, hoping to come up with something that 
could possibly shield her from the newborn downpour within the realm she guarded.  She 
found there only receipts for many, many cinnamon rolls, a compact of powder she 
suspected she had lost some years ago, and her empty wallet.  He companion said 
nothing, intoned nothing with the manner of his form.

"It's nothing, I bet the rain has slowed them down is all," she happily assured him, as 
futile as it seemed to anyone to reassure such a creature as Touda.

He shook his head though and pointed.

Off in the distance lingered a few pin pricks of ruby red flames and a great curtain of 
smoke rising from the ground.

"Oh dear!"

But Touda only shook his head and with what she took to be the impression of a sigh to 
his breath, started off.  "Kijin is not coming."

This time, she agreed with him and left, trailing behind his long strides and wishing this 
would have been her last time waiting for the wyvren boy to come.

***

Rikugou, who had been watching both the events surrounding SohRyu and Kijin, now sat 
back from the sight of his massive telescope and began once more to ponder. Another 
attempt had failed, and the boy had tried so hard to make his father see reason. It didn't 
make any sense why SohRyu would be adverse to Kijin's wanting to pursue romance. But 
then...it seemed he was adverse to romance in the first place. Rikugou had thought it was 
only himself which SohRyu objected to, but now... 

"Hmph. He just has some ax to grind when it comes to matters of the heart. Either that or 
he doesn't want Kijin to grow up. Or both." He tapped his fingers together, then spread 
his palms. The eyes resting in the center of his hands slowly opened, and blinked, as did 
the ones on his forehead. "Well, he's just going to have to get over it. All of it." 

The eyes closed again, and Rikugou got to his feet, and walked over to the small balcony 
just off his uppermost room. There, he transformed into his animal shape--that of a large, 
blue-black raven, one a quarter of the size of his usual form. He shook himself 
impatiently out of his heavy, ornate robes, and hopped onto the balcony railing. With a 
cry, he took wing. 

But he did not head for SohRyu's mansion. Instead, he flew as fast (and he could move 
very fast) to the Suzaku gate. 

"Matte, Touda! Wakaba!" he called upon his approach. "I think I have another idea, if 
you are willing to try again?" 


(ooc: I have no idea what Rikugou's animal form is. I never found it in the translations, so 
I just chose a raven. Corvidae are named in various legends as being fortunetellers and 
sages, as you probably already know. 

For my purposes, he has yellow eyes--the ones on his forehead being the ones he keeps 
open in his human form; the eyes he wears on his hands are on his wings.)

***

"WAI! Rikugou-chan has come to see us!" Wakaba cried, clapping her hands together.  
The appearance of the raven had evidentially in her mind banished all the could remain of 
their most recent failure.  Touda started to object, but his lips never even opened, for it 
came to him then that they had been failing an awful lot in the art of sweeping Kijin off 
his feet, and that is one who was involved wanted to cheer up quickly, that was their 
business.

He nodded to the bird, and made a gesture roughly equivalent to a request for one's 
quests to sit.

The guardian had another moment of lauding though, and stroking the shikigami's 
feathers into as much order as she could around the citrine of the eyes upon his wongs, 
scratching him under the shin as if he were rather a large, be-winged cat.

/You wouldn't so that too him if he was human... baka./

"Oh, I'm so happy you've come to see us, Rikugou-chan! So happy! Who's a helpful 
little birdie? I think I know who!"

"What was your idea?" Touda asked at last, and for the sake of less easily overheard 
conversation, drew closer to their visitor.

***

As much as he liked having Wakaba pet and scratch through his feathers, business was 
business. And so, Rikugou retracted his claws from the guardian's arm and fluttered down 
to perch upon the back of the chair which stood between them. "Well~l, I had several. I 
could try and talk him into going on a vacation, that he hadn't really had a chance to get 
away and relax for awhile; you know how much he loves the Anwei district, with all its 
forests and lakes. Or, I could freeze him, and lock him up in his mansion. I could hold 
him that way for quite awhile, so it would buy you some time." He chuckled softly. "I 
don't like to do that, but...you know me." He bowed. "Anything for love." 

/Of course, I may find myself having to take a long sabbatical of my own, should I resort 
to such measures./ 

Another snicker, and a pensive veil fell over Rikugou's piercing eyes. "Or...What if 
Wakaba-san tells SohRyu that Tsuzuki, Hisoka and Byakko are planning to go on a little 
vacation soon here in the mountains, camping say, and wanted to know if Kijin could 
accompany them? I don't think he'd refuse the boy a few days with his friends." 

"And you know Tsuzuki--he would probably just see it as a joke to be played, and would 
back us up, no problem." Rikugou looked from one to the other rather wryly. "Even if it 
is SohRyu we are going to trick."

***

"Hmm..." went Touda.

"Hmm..." went Wakaba.

And as a consequence of both having gone "Hmm..." at the same time, they gave one 
another disastrously embarrassed looks, the shikigami cleared his throat, and they both 
went about trying to ponder in ways more or less unlike.  

"I like any ideas that involve hurting SohRyu..." Touda began, but the guardian shortly 
cuffed him upside the head.

"You're terrible! Just terrible!" She cried.  "Besides, freezing SohRyu would get 
RIKUGOU-chan hurt! Not SOHRYU-SAMA!"  This declared, she clutched the poor bird 
to her bosom and sniggled him with a force that would have cracked enchanted blades 
into itty-bitty pieces. 

"I was... trying to make an joke."

Dead silence then, but for a lingering clap of thunder and some distant, feminine wails 
that seemed to be pertaining to flowers.

Wakaba's hand landed on his forehead, but upon her finding it most ironically icy, she 
went back to strangling their fortune-telling friend.  

Considering her to be finished with her poking, he went on at last in his careful and 
velvety voice that seemed so unsuited to his warrior frame.  "I like... the camping one.  
But, I do not want to involve Byakko if it can be avoided.  He is... given to gossip."

"Well," Wakaba began again.  "If you feel that way, there's always something to be side 
for using him as a distraction for SohRyu-sama while his son is away.  So he won't be 
tempted to, you know, check up on him."

Touda said nothing.  The sky had another scream.

"This is all for... err... later of course..."

***

"Much *cough cough* later, " agreed Rikugou, who was pondering switching back to his 
human shape just so he could get away from the grasping, madly cuddling arms of 
Wakaba. 

But then, he figured it probably wouldn't have made any difference. And the idea of 
being naked before Touda made him feel odd, as if to do so would be paramount to a 
seduction attempt on someone else's lover. It wasn't as if he hadn't noticed the dark-
haired shikigami's charms, for he had. 

And that was another story. Rikugou quickly moved back to the matter at hand. 

"Well, I--Wakaba-san, please!" 

With a giggle, the guardian loosened her grip enough to allow him to breathe again, but 
did not let him go. With a resigned sigh, he continued, "Then it's settled. We will say 
Tsuzuki and Hisoka have gone on a trip and would like Kijin to accompany them. 
Byakko we could bring into it by telling him we...are planning a surprise? And not tell 
him what exactly? Hmmm..." The raven grew pensive for an instant, then waved his free 
wing through the air dismissively. "We can suss that out later. At least we have the brunt 
of it. SohRyu's so soft on both his children, I doubt he'll stay angry at Kijin for very long. 
We can plan in the meantime." 

Another shriek rose from Suzaku's palace, and the trio looked at each other and sighed. 
Wakaba tossed Rikugou into the air, and he immediately latched onto a current and began 
to drift in lazy circles above them. 

"Try not to lose heart, Touda. Kijin will be yours!" 

*** 

"Mmm, Kijin," whispered Touda, and, quite ignoring the questioning look the guardian 
had given him, began to saunter off in the general direction of his own carriage.

***

"My peonies!" wailed Suzaku, who was now in her human form and clad in her pajama 
tunic on her knees before one wrecked mass of shrubbery. The offending door had been 
cast up into the air above her home via her beak and had been demolished in an arc of 
fire. "Oh, and I treasured these so." She picked up a handful of broken blossoms and held 
them to her cheek. 

The sound of a biwa came to her then from the gazebo, and Suzaku glanced over to find 
her companion kneeling upon the cushions. She, unlike Suzaku, hadn't bothered with 
dressing. 

"Oh, I know what you are trying to do!" she cried, waving a finger at her. "And stop it!" 

But Kouchin only flashed her the sweetest smile, and resolutely continued plucking the 
strings. The song was low and soft and soothing, struck the other shikigami as being very 
old. She could sense the magic in it, though, and it was that which had inspired her 
protest. Suzaku tried her best to resist it, but... 

In the end, she wound up in the gazebo on the cushions. The peonies she'd salvaged 
became a wreath for Kouchin's hair. 

"You know how to sway me everytime," Suzaku muttered. "I just hate that."

***

A few of the petals came dripping down from the wreath then, stirred from their stalks 
when they met the silk of the gazebo cushions.  The black silk of Kouchin's hair 
followed, and then Suzaku's.  As for the pajama top, that knew rather the railing of the 
small and more or less secluded structure and so the lip prints befell rather places no 
longer tucked away by satin.

"Ooooooh!" remarked Tenkou, who at that moment was still very much occupied with 
her telescope, which was now though facing down towards the gazebo rather than up at 
any unhappy gods.  

But just then she heard the doors downstairs opening and closing, and so, blushing just a 
bit, scurried away into the hall to wait for whoever would hope to find her.

***

Some time later, when Suzaku's fire had been quenched, SohRyu left the scorched and 
destroyed stand of cypress for the front lawn of his home, shrinking in size as he flew. 
When his back feet touched the springy ground, he dwindled rapidly, and coalesced into 
his human form. Quite naked and sooty was he, his glorious mane singed at the ends. 
SohRyu gathered a handful of it to examine, scowled at the charred ends and then flung it 
over his shoulder with a furious cry. The echo of it was still ringing away around the 
grounds when the front doors flew open to allow their master to pass. 

"Kijin!" he cried, pulling on the outermost robe in the pile of clothes he'd gathered from 
the lawn. "I want to talk you in my study in about fifteen minutes! Do NOT disobey me!" 

Without waiting for his son's answer, the dragon god stormed up the wide, marble 
staircase to the landing, and then up the left hand set of stairs to his own rooms.

***

"You're gonna get it," Tenkou stated quite plainly as if commenting on normal, earth 
sorts of weather rather than the disassociated moods of the firmament over GenSouKai.

Beside her, her brother stood, sweaty and still naked as anyone could manage to be.  His 
fists he had balled up and folded in his arms, and his eyes he had squeezed closed.

At least, before Tankou spoke up, "This is all your fault!"

"My fault?" The assertion obviously stood as absurd in her mind.  "I'm sorry, but I'm not 
the one who decided it would be a mid-morning excursion to go flying off to gods-know-
where with a..." She whispered then, as if her final words were so vile they might have 
torn the ceiling away and made it turn into bats. "...a pervert."

"PERVERT!?"

This time, it rang through the mansion, over and over, like bells.  And the maids, already 
shaken up, all began to laugh at what nonsense their day had turned to.   

"Well," much more sedately then, "You just don't know what you're talking about!" His 
piece said for the time being, Kijin stormed off in the direction of his bed chamber, 
walking as if robes fluttered over his exposed bottom.

His sibling though remained where he had been, stepping into the condensation prints his 
feet had left on the marble floor in fact.  "I just did it because I love you and I don't want 
you to go!"

But only the pet crickets in the guest room heard.

As for the young water god, though one suitcase of his clothing had yet to be recovered, 
his station assured more waiting for him in his closet, and his hurried packing that the 
outfit his father most favored was still perched pristinely on a series of hangers.  The 
under robes were all in blues, growing paler as they neared the surface until the finishing 
touch- great billows of cerulean satin spun from the spiders of the unseen world.  The 
front wore merely silver bubbles and sakura colored fans offset by seaweed of cherry 
juice crimson on the very palest cerulean.  They all whirled together on the back though, 
into a pair of mermaids, bare breasted and twined head to foot as if courting each other 
into naughtiness.  One held a shell goblet and the other a dagger.

A few strands of ribbon, a hat and his best black slippers later, he made his way to the 
study.

***  

SohRyu was waiting by one of the windows when Kijin entered the room. The dragon 
shikigami had not gone to such pains to make himself look beautiful as his son had, and 
yet, he did--singed hair notwithstanding. The robes he had worn that morning had been 
irreparably damaged, and he had replaced them with a simple long tunic and trousers of 
light grey. Over it, however, he had donned a trailing robe of dark blue silk, which had 
been embroidered all over with stylized clouds in silver and gold. A chain of ivory lotus 
blossoms adorned the bottom hem. His hair hung loose down his back. SohRyu didn't 
turn around when his son entered, nor was he inclined to speak at first. He only let out a 
long, pensive sigh. 

"Why, of all the shikigami in this world, would you want Touda? I don't understand it!" 
He whirled about then to face his son, and his heart began to soften the moment his eyes 
fell upon him. He mentally shook it off though; now was not the time to let his affections 
hold sway. 

"Is he really worth all the trouble you've gone through to have him? All the risks you've 
taken?"

***

Kijin held quite still for a moment, taken aback to say the least.  He looked as if he meant 
to flee his father any moment, or pull a dagger on the beast who had taken his place the 
moment he raised his voice.  For therein lay the problem.  Soh-Ryu hadn't yelled, hadn't 
used the word 'insolent' once, hadn't started off by announcing how long he would be 
grounded.

It took all of his common sense to convince him that the shikigami before him was indeed 
the man who had raised him.  Not even his few steps back had disturbed the exanimate 
calm of the Dragon Lord's visage.  Something, that, needless to say, is not a common 
thing to behold upon dragons or their masters in any way, shape or form.

Though enough to hearten him? Not quite.  Kijin's hands settled over the curves of his 
robe-edges and pulled them a little closer together, as if fearing the garment would fall 
from him and leave him vulnerable to some sort of verbal attack that required sight of his 
skin.

At last, he found his tongue and spoke in a slow, chiming way as he did with elders at 
parties, though not all of his emotion died within the words.  No, there was a creeping, 
ecstatic sadness there, a passion.  "He is worth all of them and much more.  Please do not 
think I am betraying you, that I am being impudent when I say this, but... father, I don't 
know *WHY* I love him, but neither do you know why you serve Tsuzuki when he 
haunts and bothers you so.  Love has found me through him."

***

SohRyu gave him a hard sort of look. "Oh, isn't that sweet? Love's Young Dream playing 
itself out before my very eyes." He slammed his hand down upon a spindly wine table 
(thankfully sans bottle or glasses), making it rock violently. "He isn't worth anything, but 
trouble! I don't know why Tsuzuki freed him! He's already tried to kill him once--there's 
no doubt that he'll one day betray him!" 

SohRyu yanked his hand away from the tabletop and whipped it behind his back to join 
the other. "And when that happens, Kijin--that will be the day Touda dies!" 

He snarled at his son, then turned away from him altogether, for his stricken expression 
caused SohRyu a great deal of regret and pain. He almost wished he could take back the 
words, and erase them from his dear son's memory, even though he didn't so much as 
threaten than promise. Touda would die if he killed Tsuzuki. Anyone would die if they 
killed Tsuzuki. 

Nee-san wasn't the only one who loved Tsuzuki. 

"You are wrong, Kijin," he said quietly. "I do know why I serve him. What I don't know 
is what you--and our master--see in him." SohRyu whirled around to face him again, 
studying him carefully. 

"But all that doesn't matter, does it? No matter what I say, what I do, you'll continue to 
fly in the face of my wishes and try to run off with him. Won't you?!" 

***

The young shikigami averted his eyes for only the slightest moment, glancing down to 
his slippers though he knew well enough they could not become words that would soothe 
his father, please his father.  They were only, as peculiar as the idea sounded, slippers- 
oblivious to all that ever happened around them, everything but beauty.

Kijin found it curious at that moment he did not long for such a life of lotus dreams, but 
surely it was love that kept his from such wonders of a life, and wishes for such.  What 
else could it be?

Though it was what he held in his heart for Touda this time, and always before it had 
been for his father, who he faced now, with calm but curiously sparkling eyes.

"There is something you could do, Tousama.  It would not quell your hatred of my lover, 
but if you... if you gave me permission to be with him, I would not have to flee, and I 
would not be going against you at your word.  I know I can not change your wishes 
entirely, just as surely as you know that my heart will not be elsewhere driven.  And I 
would keep him from our house if you would show such munificence for us."

His slippers out from under him went then, and he knelt upon the marble floor, even as it 
stung his knees to do so, chilled his pals as he pressed them to it, and the laid his head 
against them.

"I ask you for nothing more, not even mercy on me."

***    

SohRyu stood as a silk-draped statue in the middle of the room, eyes turned towards the 
opposite window. He was aware of Kijin's prostrated state, however, and it pained him 
tremendously that it had come to this. That his beloved eldest child would so abase 
himself on the behalf of someone so unworthy! He almost stormed out without saying 
yea or nay to Kijin's plea, just because he could not stand it any longer. 

But he couldn't bring himself to leave. The boy had a stronger hold on him than he would 
ever know; his sister too. It was because of Kijin that SohRyu remained, and turned to 
face him at last. He paused for only a moment more before crossing over to where his son 
lay. SohRyu stared down at him, then folded his hands across his chest in the flowing 
folds of his sleeves, and raised his eyes to some point over his head. 

"That you, the Thunder Emperor, would beg to be with the likes of Touda wounds me so 
deeply, you can not imagine. But since I can't dissuade you, then...do what you will." 

Sighing, SohRyu dropped his arms to his sides, but did not favor Kijin with a look as he 
turned away and retraced his steps back to his chaise as if nothing at all had happened. 
"Now...Leave me."

***

And he did, with heavy footsteps and not a backwards glance.

***

Not too long after ten that morning, a pair of passers by made their way along the 
blooming shrubs that guarded Muraki's front lawn from any eyes that might had darted 
over it from the street.  It was already growing rather warm for so early in the day, and 
neither of them found themselves especially pleased with having the with such brilliance 
assail them.  The elder paused just shy of the partially hidden gate and ducked into the 
thin ribbon of shade running along the side of the street by way of the roses growing 
there., pullingout his wallet and from there tugged out a business card there.  The younger 
got up upon her toes and admired the blossoms from there, for they were white, edged 
with dripping pink, as if someone had kissed them with lipstick on, and she had never 
seen such a sort of rose.  Somehow, they looked just delightfully naughty.

The boy was in his early twenties, and got up rather casually.  He had a denim jacket on- 
a very well-kept one -and had left it sag into the crooks of his elbows.  Beneath it was a 
sleeveless black shirt that fastened about his neck with a ribbon collar and fell away from 
his back, leaving it bare.  There were a few petals of kiss marks there, fingernail trails, 
and he made no move to hide them.  As for his jeans, he could not possibly have slipped 
into a tighter or a more expensive pair.  Curiously though, with his French imports, he 
had chosen to wear tabi and geta in place of the more expected boots or sneakers.  His 
free toes wiggled as he stood, and he clacked the sandals now and then just to hear the 
sound they made.  He had quite a mane of brilliant orange hair, though had tied it back 
with a bit of silver wire.  His eyes were hidden behind a pair of red mirrored sunglasses.

As for his companion, with her nose just shy of the roses, she had every right to be 
curious it seemed, for she was no more than ten- a willowy and dainty ten.  Blond and 
with azure eyes that had been dusted about with purple pearl.  She wore a little sparkle-
trimmed dress of mint green and lilac swirled together with nebula dust and pricked here 
and there with violet lame stars that twinkled as she moved.  Someone had taken the time 
to wind her tresses up in little winglets pinned with beaded clips just so about her head, 
wind her legs with a cross-cross of iridescent ribbon.  It scarcely looked as if she could 
bend her legs the way the strands had all been tied.  But she did walk on her little black 
dancing shoes, just on the tips of her toes without bending her knees too much.  Between 
her hands rested a rather large package all done up in fuscia foil and marigold ribbon.  

"I hate these goddamn maps all the people here scrawl on their business cards! They look 
like pieces from an IQ test," Her companion complained, drawing the scrap of paper 
close to his face and then much further than it had been originally.  "It's like they don't 
want to be found."

"Well," she replied, rocking back on her heels, "To them, beauty is what's hidden.  
They're all just thinking they're pretty."

He chuckled at this and patted her shoulder, making sure to puff her sleeve back up once 
he had finished.  "Well, this sure looks like the place.  C'mon, off we go." A few strides 
took him to the gate, which he pressed open with the bottom of his geta rather than lay a 
hand on.  It, without the expected squeak, swung open before him.  Sure now he would 
get no surprises from it, he drew in himself and held it for the little girl, who skated past 
and waited for him to close the iron behind her.

"It's funny how mad doctors always have such decadent houses.  You think they'd be too 
busy being mad to keep their places up."

No verbal answer to this, but they both smiled very suddenly as they began to make their 
ways down the cobbles, both staying in the center of the path, swaying away from the 
errant blooms that came too close to them.

"It's smaller than the last one's," he finally pointed out.

"But there are actually THINGS here." Her feet stayed from the stone for but a moment, 
and just the tip of her little finger strayed over the beard of an iris near the door.  Then all 
of her fingers, her palm.  She covered it with her hand and then pulled back.  "And they 
don't bite this time."

"Good!"

Just the same, he went about ringing the doorbell quite gingerly.

***

The door was promptly opened by a young girl in a white silk kimono scattered with 
golden fans and fluttering sakura petals, her underrobes being of pink and green to match.  
She too wore tabi and geta, but her hair was black, and piled upon her head and 
ornamented like a geisha's.  Her face made up as carefully as a courtesan's.  So fluid and 
graceful were her movements as she swept the door open and tapped aside on to let them 
pass, that no one would have known at first glance that she was not human, but a 
mechanical doll, an invention of the doctor's.  It only became apparent when she spoke, 
her voice having a faint whine of machinery in motion.

"Good morning," she chirped, bowing politely after they had announced
themselves.  "Dr. Kazutaka is expecting you.  I will lead you to him."  She lifted her 
sleeve to cover her mouth, but still they could see the black of her artificial teeth as she 
smiled.  No detail had been glossed over, it seemed.

The doll closed the door behind them, and then swept past to escort them down the hall 
and to a room on the left.  She knelt alongside the screen and slid it back, bowing again 
as they entered.  An uncluttered, tatami-matted room stretched before them, one whose 
walls were decorated discreetly with ukiyo-e prints of the twelve animals of the zodiac.  
Two lanterns, a table and several cream and brown cushions were the only furnishings.

"Mr. Marlow and Miss Marlow are here to see you."

Muraki, who had been sitting crosslegged on the porch leading to the outside and his 
private gardens, set his newspaper aside and rose to meet them.  He was dressed in a 
simple, white kimono and house slippers, and when he saw them, his face lit up in a 
gracious smile.  He looked from one to the other as if he couldn't make up his mind 
which he liked better.

"Please, sit down," he said, gesturing at the low table in the center of the room.  "Make 
yourselves at home, and Kaoru will bring us some refreshment, perhaps?  Tea and 
cakes?"  The doll bowed again, and slid the screen closed.

"I hope you don't mind my leaving the outer screens open, but it is such a lovely day.  He 
looked over at Aubrey with a faint leer.  "So very lovely..."

Muraki sank down on the cushions on the side of the table opposite his
visitors, tenting his hands together before his face.  "Well, now, I trust you have news to 
impart, else you charming children wouldn't be here."

***

Muraki's guests took a moment to glance over at each other, where before Saffie's gaze 
had been half following Kaoru, and Aubrey's something far more lewd than departure of 
the lithe little automaton.  They looked at one another, curious it seemed, to see for 
themselves just what in the other of them had so interested their host.  As if they had 
noticed just what that might have been for the first time, they nodded, and fluttered over 
to the table, with all the little suddenness to their moves that birds taking off for 
someone's palm know.  She skipped until she settled with her skirts purling out around 
her kneeling knees.   He pressed the pads of his feet together with his hands around his 
ankles.

As for the box, it got to sit beside the table, where the little girl patted it before saying, 
"Tea and cakes would be just wonderful! And so would having the screens open."

"I'll just leave my coat on then," her companion added, drawing the denim up around his 
shoulders now, winking like the shadows of the leaves did as he hid his skin away.  A 
little gust caught at him just then, and blew his hair about.  Muraki's met the same fate of 
course, and he watched the silver strands go dancing for a moment.  "I hope you don't 
mind I brought my sister along, but she wanted to see you, and I thought you might also 
enjoy... seeing her."  Though, naturally, he didn't sound sorry at all.

Their host nodded, and kept the expectation in the glimmer of his one visible eye.

"And please, call us by out given names," the little girl spoke up then, "He's Aubrey..."

"And she's Saffie."  Though no one had called either of them anything but Marlow.  
"Muraki-sensei, Saffie.  Saffie, Muraki-sensei."

"Hajimemashite," and they both bowed with her greeting as best they could whilst sitting.

Aubrey though reached into his pocket and came up with what looked to be a box of tarot 
cards.  He shook a handful of the contents into his hand, and one by one, laid the bits of 
paper out across the table.  They were but photographs, all cut to the same size, but 
rimmed with gold foil borders and Latin words that put names to the images there.

The visage of a man, ordinary but for his pointed ears appeared first, and the girl 
followed it with a pair of silver hoops being returned to their owner, the doctor.

"Now," her brother began, "The clairvoyant I promised you did the reading as you asked, 
and he also told me his accuracy ratio.  Since you're wondering that too, it's 76%.  That 
being the least interesting of my news..." as he spoke, more photos drifted down to the 
surface of the table, until he had quite a neat little line of them across his side.  "You're 
rival will meet a more than timely end which neither of us will have to waste our time 
arranging.  As you hoped, he will indeed be killed by a beautiful boy.  His followers will 
forget who you are and have their own troubles.  Someone will bring you pictures of his 
death.  Before the summer is out, there will be... unrest,.  The only casualty of this in 
your world will be the bush or red queens by the door, which one of your neighbors will 
cut to bits.  Sorry.  You will go to Tokyo, and your beloved and your doll will be waiting 
for you there, because the turmoil will bring them.  It will not be the only time you see 
them."

***  

"Ah, but this is splendid news, my poor plants notwithstanding. It doesn't help for a 
scientist to have competition. Extend to your clairvoyant my thanks--and my fee of 
course." 

Outside, the tiny bell chime hanging in the porch eaves began to ring. The screen slid 
back, and there was a shuffle of silk and the rattle of fine china as Kaoru entered with the 
tray. The automaton set it down upon the table before Muraki, and took her place at little 
off to one side of him. Hot, cherry scented green tea spilled from the spout of a muddy 
green, bamboo decorated tea pot into a squarish black cup. The doll passed it and a plate 
of tiny, raspberry filled lemon cakes to Aubrey, then to its master. To Saffie, it gave 
nothing but a smile from behind its sleeve. 

Muraki looked bemusedly over at the pair of them. It was hard to tell which was the doll 
and which was the human girl, and Muraki was thoroughly captivated by the youngest 
Marlow child. The tender smile he gave her belied as much. "Would you like to sit with 
Kaoru on the porch while you have your refreshments? While she can not partake of food 
as you do, she is a master storyteller, can play the shamisen. She can even play several 
games--and she is a tricky opponent. Quite often I engage her in a game of Go--and she's 
beaten me more than I've won." He laughed a little. "But then, I'm not as young and 
clever as you probably are, being a Marlow. I should think you would be more of an 
opponent for her than I am." 

"Not that I don't appreciate the charming picture you make at my table, but I have some 
business I'd like to discuss with your brother." Muraki lifted the cup and eyed Aubrey 
rather lasciviously over its inky rim. "Personal business."

***

Saffie did not seem offended in the least by this.  Rather, a touch of a smile claimed her 
lips, though not one of the purest amusements.  Her eyes fluttered onto her brother, and 
he smiled to, but sweetly, and before she could get up, he had caught her by the arm and 
kissed her upon the cheek with such motion of his lips that left a wet mark.  She pecked 
him back upon the nose and got to her feet, though she bowed almost as quickly as she 
had stood.  "Why, I'd love that.  Thank you very much! I don't think what I've brought 
you will make up for this at all.  Hai! Dozo."

She gathered up her box once again and laid it on the table so lightly the cards were not 
even stirred by its passing.  The ribbons on her legs all swept the light about themselves 
as she whirled around then, her skirt catching up on the breeze of her movement.  Taking 
Kaoru's arm, she let herself be lead towards the porch and her brother watched her go 
until satisfied with the place she had fluttered away to.

"She hardly ever gets to play with anyone whose thoughts she can't taste.  It makes her 
feel like getting to stay up an extra hour or have chocolate ice cream for dinner, or would, 
if I didn't do those things with her anyway." He had to lean to the side a bit to find 
himself properly in Muraki's site again.  "It's almost like you've been in hers the way 
you just let her go like that.  Especially considering how much you like her." His fingers 
riffled together beneath his chin and he smirked where her shadow had been on his host's 
eyes.  "I was waiting for you to ask if you could keep her.  But now..."

A bit of a breeze came up then, singing through the trees first, one by one, until they had 
all joined into the sunlight serenade.  It had the cards though, each and every one of them, 
and clinking a little with their foil trimmings, they swooped down to the tatami and 
Aubrey grinned yet again, making no move to pick them up.  

***  

Muraki was content to let them lie there as well; he'd gotten what he'd wanted from them, 
and now they didn't matter anymore. As for what did matter... 

"Actually, I was going to ask if I could keep her. Saffie-chan would make a beautiful 
addition to my household. She would not want for anything; clothes, food, books. 
Playmates." A chuckle. "I have many such dolls as Kaoru in my collection; I doubt she'd 
find it boring to live here." 

He took a sip of tea, and then abandoned the cup altogether. Muraki got to his feet, and 
appreciatively looked Aubrey over. "I would be prepared to pay you whatever sum you 
wish. I ask you to consider it." 

The cotton covering his legs swished softly as Muraki walked to the screens off the porch 
and slid them forward, closing them until only a narrow strip of sunlight stood between 
the edge of screen and the wall. He left it open solely for ventilation's sake, else it might 
be too hot, and he didn't want his guest to be too uncomfortable. 

When Muraki returned to the table, he sat on the cushions next to his young companion--
very close. Admiringly, a hand stole across Aubrey's bound hair, smoothing a few 
wayward strands on its passage to the knot of wire at his nape. This Muraki worked free 
and tossed to the floor. 

"It's a pity to deny such a glorious mane its freedom. Ah, you should always wear it 
down, just like this." Muraki fluffed a hand through Aubrey's hair, and then pressed one 
red-orange lock to his lips. 

"Have you any other business you'd care to discuss with me?" 

***

Aubrey did not seem in the least nonplussed by this, but then again, he did not lawn into 
his companion's attentions either, not exactly.  As a trill of little girls' laughter came 
tripping through the slid between the screens, he tipped his head just the slightest bit, 
letting his hair sweep over the slender, white fingers which have come to stray within it.  

Taking a small sip of his tea, he said simply, "I usually wear it loose, but my lover said 
I'd make a better impression on you if I kept it back."

At the curious look he got for this, he gave a gentle sort of smirk.  And then pulled away 
himself, reaching back and taking his undone ponytail in his hands, casting all the henna 
red of it over one shoulder as he rose and padded over to the side of the table where the 
package stood perched.  The sliver of sunlight there just settled itself along one of his 
shoulders and the very edge of the shining ribbon.  

"I admire a man who has the audacity to ask his guest if he can purchase his sister.  No 
pretenses.  Just exactly what he is thinking about her, and the world, and the rate a ten 
year old girl fetches on the open market these days."

Aubrey paused then, letting his shoulders fall a little so the edge of his jacket once more 
left the one more easily seen by his host.  His one hand played over the cakes then, 
making them glisten this way and that as he pondered which he liked, which turned out to 
be none of them, just the icing on a single specimen, which he dipped his finger into so 
he might have only the trace of sugar there upon his lips.

"I thought you would feel that way, and Saffie did as well, though she hasn't had time to 
make up her mind about it.  In the mean time, we brought you a doll that is somewhat 
more... tractable.  So yes, I do have other business."

One finger tip still glistening where had had kissed the icing from it, his hands came up 
around the bow and began to toy with its trailing ribbons.  

"I'm sure you know that Madame Alexander did exceptionally well in the fifties, and 
most of their most sought after ladies had their glory days then.  But back in those days, 
somehow they managed to produce six dolls that never ended up listed in their official 
rosters.  Six exceptional dolls, all willingly acknowledged by specialists as window 
decorations for favorite stores.  They are, of course, called by many arcane names and 
sought after by only the most serious and deeply intrigued.  They are meant, supposedly, 
to represent what it is that women dreamed of being in those days, how they could be 
seen.  Oh, there was a movie star, a nurse and a ballerina, little delicate things that came 
in pink boxes with darling, lacey nametags."

He paused with a grin and drew the bow to pieces then.  The sides of the box gave way 
and fell around the glass cylinder therein.

"And then there was the vamp that no one has ever found a box for.  Who has no name."

Standing there between her clear petals of a case was a dark haired lady with eyes of 
crystal brown beneath clicky lashes of khol black.  She wore, despite the demure 
expression of all such dolls, a slinky, black gown dusted with sequins, one touched only 
the barest bit by the wears of the light.  She was holding in one hand a mask dripping 
dark crystals.

(OOC: There really are such six dolls.  I'm certain of the ballerina, the movie star, and 
the vamp, but I don't know about the nurse, or what the proper name is...)

***

Muraki had seen his share of exquisite dolls, and all of which had ended up in his 
collection one way or another. But this one! She was a treasure, and that she had come 
into the hands via one so delicious in his beauty...! Muraki took the glass cylinder 
between his hands as if he were cradling a newborn kitten, his face reflecting utter 
delight. 

"Oh, my dear Aubrey!" he breathed. "This...I can't..." Muraki shifted his eyes from the 
pouty doll to the living boy beside him, and gave him a smile of gratitude. "I had heard of 
her existence, and had longed for her. But I never thought I would ever be able to obtain 
her, were she indeed real." He looked down at the shining creature, then back at Aubrey. 
The case was placed carefully on the table to one side. "I thank you. She will be placed 
amongst those dolls which are most precious to me out of all the many in my collection." 

That said, and with another sip of tea and a last fond look at the vamp, Muraki turned 
away from her altogether in favor of gazing upon Aubrey. His visual admiration of the 
alluring flesh before him soon became tactile as his fingers stole over Aubrey's shoulder. 
And then, oral, when he leaned in to lick a line along the top of his shoulder. 

"This lover of yours--is he a jealous man?" he murmured. "Or can you do much as you 
please." Muraki nibbled lightly upon Aubrey's earlobe. "Not that I care if he is--I just 
need to know how much seducing will be required before I can have my way with you."

***

Aubrey let the sleeve of his coat slink just that much further from his arm as he turned to 
look back into the cold platinum eyes of his host.  His tongue crept out over his lips as he 
did so, and his form moved with a sigh he had not uttered.  It was almost as if he was 
licking his lips and trying not to be seen.  

"You don't need to worry about that either way," he told the doctor then, stealing one 
more petal if icing from a teacake.  "Because either way, I happen to enjoy..." In a little 
fit of whimsy brought on by himself and only himself, Muraki's guest behaved then as if 
the sugar had been liquid, and so crept down his curled hand and onto his arm, though 
plainly no such trail remained.  A few chimes of laughter then once more, and they could 
scarcely be told from one another, the girl and the machine.  The girl and the illusion of a 
girl.  Aubrey and the illusion he had chosen a moment to live, for his lips crept over his 
wrist then, his tongue caressed the nearly invisible lines of blue beneath.

He kissed himself then, and smiling with a tangy sweetness to his expression, winked, 
just the littlest bit. 

"...being seduced." This drawing two moments together that he had himself slivered with 
the dew of the fancy he had taken such time to bring about.  

"And seducing of course.  I happen to think you'd like to make my bunny jealous, 
wouldn't you though? Pity you can't, but either way, it isn't good of me at all to simply 
take what you would rather give me."

Aubrey warmed his lips with tea then and let them come very near Muraki's, so close that 
the warmth of the liquid left in his breath wound out with his words and alighted on the 
doctor's poised mouth.  "You know, I've sealed business deals like this before? But I've 
never been naked on tatami.  How about you make me look forward to it?"    

***

"Sounds like a plan to me." 

Muraki hovered there, keeping those precious centimeters between their mouths, 
threatening kisses which never came. The jacket that straddled Aubrey's shoulders was 
unceremoniously pushed down to his wrists, and the sleeves drawn clear of his hands. 
Muraki dropped the garment to the floor behind them, and encircled Aubrey's wrists with 
his own hands, crossing them behind the redhead's back. 

Then he kissed him, parting his lips against the boy's, and nudging his tongue inside to 
probe and tickle the most sensitive areas inside his mouth. Muraki continued to stroke his 
captured wrists, grazing his palms with his thumbs on occasion as he ravaged his mouth. 

And at last he moved away, drawing deeply of air. A smile graced his lips, and his hands 
left Aubrey's. Unfortunately for the boy, however, his hands stayed where they were. 
Muraki had securely tied them together with the wire Aubrey had originally worn in his 
hair. 

The doctor laughed lightly. "Forgive me, my lovely boy, but I like to have my playthings 
bound on occasion. I also like to have them resist me--it makes it more enjoyable for me. 
Feel free to protest my attentions, if you like," he said, as he reached under Aubrey's thick 
mane to untie his halter. "I won't hurt you, no matter how much you try to fight me off." 

Muraki pulled the long, black strings away from Aubrey's neck, then released them, 
letting them flutter down to his lap. Pink nipples puckered in the cool air. Muraki sat very 
still, taking in the sight of his shirtless guest, and then he slipped an arm between his 
bound arms and his back, and forcefully pulled him in his lap. 

Another instant, and he had one tender nipple at the mercy of his tongue. 

***

Aubrey snickered a little at first at the doctor's remark, quite unconcerned it seemed with 
his present state of bondage.  A few of the cards fluttered when his companion moved 
him, having been caught up in the breeze his displaced body made, the start of his 
chuckles, though they died on his lips with a sudden gasp brought by the mouth that took 
and swallowed the buds of his chest.

Not before tickling them with his teeth.

"Why you kinky, old... AH! Watch it!!"

His shout only brought him the faintest pause, and a chancing of his own eyes by the 
single silver one that fixed him with a heat that might have brought shivers to another 
creature.  Revenge for that look, and he smiled back at him with all the understanding, 
the empathy and softness he could muster, even as he wiggled his hips against the 
stiffness he had found suddenly butted up against his thighs.  What could it be but a joke, 
that look he so willingly gave.

"I thought so.  Well, you did too.  That's the whole point of tying me up, right? Make 
sure your pretty, fiery toy doesn't go vanishing on you before you've cum all over his 
sweet, little face.  Hmm? Rather spill yourself somewhere else I'm sensing? Suit 
yourself."

Aubrey tried to draw his still clad legs apart then, so he would be splayed in that lap, not 
curled up like a doll so folded with one's hands.  It was all to rile Muraki, and of course, 
went nowhere once the arm had fastened around his knees.  With as much of a shrug as 
he could give, he jiggled his wrists to try and get one picky end of the wide from them, 
and as he was feasted upon, sent his own lips coasting through the doctor's hair, bushing 
his temples and his ear.  Sucking upon his earring.

But the body wrapped his own shifted then, and Muraki's guest let out a yelp, one 
probably heard by the two little girl's outside, for their giggles had drifted by on the 
sunlight but moments before.  Aubrey gave them no heed, tried to turn over his shoulder 
and could not get himself properly about.  

He just caught the faintest splash of red on the white trousers he rested on.  

"Hey, let me up a sec! I'm bleeding and- Ouch! -I think I got the stupid wire stuck..."

His words trailed off into nothing, both for the descent of the lips on his chest, and the 
fact he knew whatever he uttered was really quite in vain.  Still, he strained then, 
fidgeting, trying to get the intrusive point from his skin, and only working it deeper.  No 
more cries of pain from him though, only little murmurs of some sort of diluted rapture.  

***

"You learn quickly--and yet, you aren't truly afraid of me. That really is refreshing. So 
many times my guests get all fearful during our play, only to enjoy themselves in the end. 
I simply don't understand it." Muraki blew lightly across one of Aubrey's damp nipples, 
making him shiver a little. 

"Ah, well," he continued as he straightened up. "I can't waste my time worrying about 
them, when I have such a delightful young man with which to amuse myself with--now 
can I?" 

The cushions at his side were scattered from the table save for one, and Aubrey was 
lowered to the tatami mats. The pillow was placed under his head, and Muraki placed 
himself between the boy's legs. And he smiled. 

"What would you like, I wonder? Do you like to be played with?" He asked, trailing his 
fingers across Aubrey's abdomen. "Or do you like to get straight down to business?" 

One hand drifted down to his fly, and there began to work the fastenings open. "Such 
choices. Ah, if only I didn't prefer to save my mouth for my beloved's cock. It humiliates 
him a little, you know, me having him that way. I don't think it would humiliate you, 
though...but that's not what I'm after right now." 

Muraki dipped his hand inside Aubrey's jeans, and stroked him there before hooking his 
hands in his waistband. "I just want to fuck a beautiful young man." He then drew them 
off; or more like wriggled them off, as they were so tight. Once he had gotten the legs 
clear of his ankles, Muraki threw the garment aside, and lay his hands upon Aubrey's bare 
thighs. 

"Mm..." he purred as he looked him over. "You are quite impressive. I do hope your 
rabbit appreciates you. I know I do." The belt holding his yutaka closed came loose, and 
the garment fell open, exposing his own erection for Aubrey's view. "As you can see." 

Another grin, and Muraki dragged his fingers through the frosting of his untouched cake, 
and then wrapped one hand around Aubrey's twitching sex. The other began its lazy 
descent towards the cleft of his ass. 

"If you'd care to murmur a "No," or a "Please, stop," right about now, I wouldn't mind it 
at all."

***

Aubrey muttered something along those lines, though probably not what the doctor had 
expected.  In a shrill, truly unhappy whine, the boy announced.  "HEY! If I come home 
with icing up my ass again I'm in deep shit!"

They both froze.  Muraki with the tips of his fingers just newly alighted on the rosebud of 
his prey.  The redhead himself had halfway twisted himself onto his side, and lay before 
him now, one leg smacked against his companion's shoulder, his hair tossed over his face 
and catching on his lips as he chased down his breath.  

He was smiling though.

Behind him on the tatami were a few smears of blood, not only from the wire- now 
ribbed with crimson as it was for one end had sunk in under the skin of his arm and 
worked back and forth there, but also from the star-shaped pricks about his back where he 
lad been made to lay on the still free sharp edge.

"What? I'm not going to heal up like that beloved of yours would.  You thought I was for 
a second because you were imagining I was him.  I don't look a thing like him now! I 
don't even know anyone who does."

Another grin, and this time, he started to laugh.

"If you're gonna do me, do me, and not him.  All I ask, good little uke that I am."

Aubrey of course, seemed to know quite well that he was no such manifestation of that 
idea.  Muraki simply flipped him over onto his stomach.  He cried out then when the wire 
bit him again (for his bound arms were pushed into his back*, but writhed under the bare 
hand that worked its way over his waist then, hissing between his gasps as he pushed the 
wire a little further into his arm.  "Yabette! Onegaishimasu! Itai! Itai! ONEGAI!"

He felt a tongue go sliding over the sanguine metal, and the open wounds, felt the silver 
string pulled from the wound with hot lips, licked clean.

"Onegai..."

A glance at the teacake found its white robe gone, though the icing, thanks doubtlessly to 
his protest, he felt again, as it slipped inside him, silky with sugar.  He  lurched onto the 
intrusive fingers, clenching himself around them as if he had gone reluctant all of a 
sudden.  

Still tonguing his cuts and so curled around him like a white vine almost, Muraki with an 
amused little sigh, took his hip in one hand and held him still as he surged into his 
icinged ass.

Aubrey chuckled in spite of himself. 

***

No more words were exchanged between the two as Muraki ravaged the redhead 
stretched out upon his tatami mats. Just soft whimpers and moans, and breathing. 
Beyond, the quiet conversation and merry giggles of the two dolls, human and 
mechanical, drifted through the narrow part between the screen and the wall. Having such 
innocence so close as to be a witness to his depravity only made it that much more 
exciting. Muraki wanted to keep them both there for awhile, wanted even to have the 
little girl in the room to watch him take her brother. Maybe the next time, he would. 

Just like the next time he had Tsuzuki, he would make Hisoka watch. And vice versa. Oh, 
how horrified they would be--helplessly watching their companion be so mercilessly 
assaulted, having to listen to their moans as he coaxed them to orgasm. That was the 
sweetest thing... 

He was thinking about just what he would do them, what he would like to do to the boy 
beneath him when he climaxed. It was hard, blinding. He was only conscious of that 
warm, yielding flesh he was plunging into, of the boy's cries. His fingers clenched hard 
enough to bruise his skinny hips, and Muraki rode him until he had gone completely soft. 
Then he sagged above him, his hands flat on the floor to support him as he regained his 
bearings. When he at last did open his eyes, he found Aubrey's green ones trained upon 
him, soft and drowsy. His smile, however, was quite knowing. 

Muraki couldn't help but slyly smile back. He pulled out and rocked back on his knees, 
and draped his robe closed across his lap. Then he reached for two snowy, unused cloth 
napkins, and these he folded and wrapped around Aubrey's wrists, tying them off. "There. 
These should hold until you can care for them. I have a small first aid kit in the bathroom; 
gauze, tape, antiseptic. You may make use of them." 

"And the next time I fuck you, I won't be *quite* so rough." 

*** 

"You're right, it's never as good as the first time.  For most people." Aubrey winked and 
stretched out on his side for a moment, just so he could simper that much longer at the 
mildly puzzled look his comment had brought.  Though he winked it away, blew towards 
Muraki's face as if hoping to ruffle his bangs from where he lay.  Which he didn't do, but 
looked as satisfied as if he had.  

He got to his knees then, a few little prints of the blood from the tatami coming up on his 
skin.  There were only a few of them, but he hovered there among them for a moment. 
Making it look as if they had fallen from elsewhere on his body.  

"I'm good for any exhibitionist tendencies you might want to indulge, by the way.  I've 
got a few myself.  But I guess..."

There was no flicker of light, no sigh of sound, but Aubrey Marlow winked out of being 
for an instant, leaving the wire behind.  It clattered to the floor just as he manifested 
himself behind Muraki, standing now.  They gazed at one another for a time much longer 
than he had been missing, and he kissed him once again, deep and lazy, before padding 
out of the room with nothing whatsoever on.

And he took his time returning.  The morning was just breaching onto afternoon by the 
time he came into the tea room once again.  He was dusted still with water droplets from 
an evident shower, his hair dragging in his eyes with a few traces of moisture.  He had 
bound both of his forearms all over like a swordsman.  When he dressed, it was shirt first, 
so with his back to Muraki, his ass stayed on display much longer than it might have 
otherwise, in a more normal sort of striptease, though this one was backwards to begin 
with.

Just as he covered it, he sighed a little, breath still caught from the tightness of the denim.  
"Thanks for the tea."

*** 

"It was my profound pleasure, Aubrey-san." Muraki rose from where he knelt and padded 
over to where Aubrey stood. His hands lit upon the slim curves of his hips, and he pulled 
the boy against him. "I do hope you will honor me with your presence again some day--or 
night--in the near future." 

Aubrey's hair was whisked aside, baring his neck to Muraki's view. The older man, 
smiling as a connoisseur might when presented with a rare delicacy, bent and bit him 
hard enough to bruise. 

"Something for your rabbit to muse over."

***

"I'll make sure to show him you've sent your regards." A wink, and Aubrey drew the 
thread of ribbon back up about his neck, patting it a little as if he had something precious 
tucked beneath it.  "I also think I'll be back soon, or rather, I know.  But that part of the 
fun of scromping a clairvoyant."

Muraki's steady gaze faltered for an instant, and his guest began to laugh anew.  "Why 
yes, they're the same person- my bunny and your precog.  Isn't life strange?"

Silence then, they had no need to speak of such thing, but dwelled rather on their own 
perceptions of just how much, just how titillating and bizarre.

The screen onto the porch parted then, and Saffie came skipping in, Kaoru close behind.  
After all, their hands were still entwined.  She and the doctor's doll scampered up and 
stood before his feet then, their fingers that were not laced hiding behind their backs as if 
they had presents both.  "Thank you for having us over, I had just a wonderful time!"  
Saying so, she reached up, just a little, and caught the front of his robe in her hands, 
tugging Muraki down until he was just eye level with her and the automaton, who she 
kissed about the corner of her mouth as he might have a real little girl before turning her 
attentions to her host, bussing with captivating slowness and just a flicker of her tongue.  

"She learned from the master," Aubrey announced.

"Hey."

And together, the four of them made their way out to the back entryway, sharing 
meaningful looks and nothing more until the door had opened.

"Well, I'd wish you well but well already wished you." A shrug on the brother's part, and 
he too paused a moment to stroke Kaoru, but on her head, sensing the question of his 
companion before she had spoken.

"Ne, ne, Muraki-sensei? It's true you can get into the Land of the Dead.  I don't mean to 
be rude and ask too much of you, but could you take us some time? I've never been there 
before, and I'd get you something pretty and delicious in return."

***

Muraki arched a fine brow in amusement over Savil's question. "You would? For me? 
Why, my dear Savil--I am charmed." He gave her a smile. "I would be most honored to 
have you both accompany me to Meifu. I think you would find it interesting." 

He took one of little girl's hands in his own and kissed it, and then straightened up. 
"Consider that a date," he said, addressing the elder Marlow. "Ask your precognitive 
bunny for an auspicious date. I like things to go off without a hitch." 

Looking him over lasciviously, Muraki moved in to kiss Aubrey, flicking his tongue 
against the boy's own. When he pulled back, he held his gaze for a moment longer, then 
retreated into the shadows of his sitting room. 

"I thank you both for coming, for the gift, and I thank the precognitive for his advice." He 
bowed. "Kaoru will show you to the garden entrance, which is just there." Muraki 
gestured to the left hand side of the garden. 

"Farewell." With a parting smile, he slid the screen closed.

***

"Ja ne! Enjoy your dolly!" Saffie called after Muraki, waving her hand to the place where 
he had been.  

Her brother laughed, and sent a kiss the doctor's way on the tips of his fingers before 
slipping his arm around her shoulders and starting down the path to the back entrance 
with her.  "Meifu, eh?  That could be... interesting."

Answers then, the sort not every human hears.  He licked his lips and she hers before he 
bent and kissed them himself, though not with the sort of passion he otherwise would 
demonstrate.  Kaoru bounded on before them until they came to the gate, and had their 
good byes with her.  Aubrey slipped his fingers in her mouth and looked a moment at her 
teeth before cupping her tiny breast in one hand, and having his lips there through the 
cloth of her kimono before taking his leave.  He didn't find it to be much different from 
that of a real girl.  The same went for the playful kick he got in his shin.

Saffie spoke then "He told us the trip to Japan would be engaging, but he didn't say how 
much."

"I think I owe him a thank-you, but I enjoy my thank you's as much as he does, so that's 
not especially nice of me, now is it?"

"So it goes."

They laughed, but the sounds of their giggles ceased just as suddenly as they had begun, 
and in the sunlight they hovered still for an instant, just shy of the main road, watching 
something moving on the other side of the road.

Something watching them right back.

The Marlow boy, ever calm in such moment, ran his hand along his neck, inching the 
ribbon there down for one more instant, letting the first, crimson hint of the bruise there 
show though.  "Ohayo!  Nice day isn't it?"

"A... fine day," The moving thing replied, in human speech, for it was no ghost, just 
looked like one the way it moved.  They knew it hadn't been, but had wanted it to prove 
just so.  Because it was that sort of day.

Saffie curtsied to the man then, and said without a touch of irony or shame, "Muraki-
sensei's house is seven down and to the left.  You can see the rose tree there from the 
road."

"Better get a good look at it now! It won't last the summer!"

"Ganbatte by the way!"

He had paused a moment, let them speak, as they liked, but at the little girl's parting 
tones he could no longer keep silent, living ghost or not.  "Wait! What the... who are you 
TWO!"

But they had already run laughing down the street, waving until they had slipped into the 
shade of another street, one leading back into the bustle of the city where they had 
anywhere and everywhere to hide.

He did not follow them, but hung on the corner for many moments, one hand reached out 
after where they had stood.  But he shook their presence from his thoughts, and went up 
the street again, his grace controlled and sated, footsteps to easy and mindful for sneakers 
as if he feared he would fall in them.

He wanted to run... but he didn't.  His fists clenched at his sides though until they shook 
with the straining of his muscles.  The skin of his palms though was too worn to be 
punctured by his nails.  

/"Ganbatte by the way"...?/

/But I... no... he wouldn't have./

/Yes he would have.../ That thought coming clearest when he beheld the dreamy fa‡ade 
of the doctor's house, or dreamy it did seem to him who had never expected to actually 
be there, actually behold it.

He reached at first for the buzzer at the gate, but then tried the iron bars.

They opened before him.  Someone else had come this way, or been asked to.

And then he did run, all the way up the path.  The front door had also been left unguarded 
so he came into the house, shoes and all tearing through the halls until he found him.  
Still in his tearoom, admiring the blood on the tatami.  

"You fucked that slag, didn't you, Muraki!?"

It was Oriya.

***

"ASATO TSUZUKI THIS IS THE THIRD TIME THIS WEEK YOU HAVE BEEN 
LATE TO WORK!" Bellowed Kanoe, pounding his fist on his desk for emphasis, but 
only for a moment until his ever so accusatory finger shot out at Hisoka, "AND YOU!!! 
YOU! I EXPECT THIS SORT OF BEHAVIOR FROM HIM BUT NOT YOU." Under 
his breath it was mumbled, but doubtless everyone heard, for the entire office had fallen 
silent and stunned.  "He's a bad influence, I tell you.  A bad influence."

"I also brought mocha mouse pie for you, boss!" The errant shinigami piped up, holding 
out a very, very large pink cardboard box.

"OOOOOOOOOH!" their manager's eyes grew wide and gleamy at that point, and he all 
but floated over his papers to take the container in his hands.  His lips curled into a jolly 
smile, he embraced his dessert and everyone around Tsuzuki sighed, including his 
partner.  Probably because they were even later now that they had stopped to fetch the 
cake.  "Umm... thank you, Asato.  I'll put this to good use, and you too, I'm terribly 
afraid."

"Terribly afraid? You're usually just afraid."

"Well, it seems you two aren't the only one's who have decided to go lollygagging about 
earth."

Still sporting a few irk lines about his brow, Kanoe took his seat and folded his hands 
before himself, but only for a moment.  One freed itself of the other and crept over to the 
lid of the box, which it parted so he could peer inside.  The scent of coffee and chocolate 
cream filled the nearby air, at least until such time as the toner in the Xerox caught fire 
once again and had to be put out at once.

Tsuzuki, after getting a quick crack in the ribs courtesy of his companion, finally asked.  
"What do you mean...?"

"I mean, Watari and Tatsumi aren't here today. Neither of them called in sick, neither of 
them ever does this sort of thing..."

"Actually, Watari did around Golden Week last year and..."

"...yes, yes, the squids, don't remind me.  Anyway, it's going to be a tough enough day 
around here without you two messing around.  Get to work."

Silence once again fell between them, during which most of them admired the smoke 
drifting from the immolated machine as if curled about the ceiling.  

"Eto... I just have two questions."

"Yes, Asato?"

"What happened to your tie, if you don't mind me asking...?"

Sobs.  "Tatsumi wasn't here to tie it for me."

"...I see!" For he could not help but notice the terrific knot which abided several 
centimeters too tight around their leader's neck. "And ah... are you going to assign us 
something to do, or should we just run around aimlessly until we think of something? I 
can do that and all..." 

***

Beside him, Hisoka snorted softly. "Everyone knows wandering about aimlessly is your 
specialty, Tsuzuki." 

A look of mild puzzlement came his way, Tsuzuki blinked, and then turned his attention 
to the manila folder Kanoe had just handed him. Hisoka felt his face go warm, and he 
quickly turned his back on them both and headed over to the coffeemaker. One styrofoam 
cup was filled with two packets of sugar and a dash of creamer powder, and then filled to 
the brim with the coffee Hisoka didn't really want. 

But it was better than letting either of them see how uncomfortable he now felt. 

/Can't ever be nice to him, can you? Brat.../

***

Tsuzuki had finished pouting by the time Hisoka returned, which coincided with his forth 
time flipping through the scant documents that lined the folder he had been given, at least 
two of which were in a language he could not read.  What's more, there were no pictures, 
and like Alice before Wonderland, Tsuzuki wasn't especially fond of books without 
pictures.  His partner though, stood before him, taking the most miniscule sips... he 
himself had been so distracted by the hair-raising commute, the line in the patisserie, the 
run up the front steps of the office and, last but not least, the most recent of his lectures, 
he had plum forgotten about the mysterious purple doodles which now trimmed his 
companion.  How could he check to see if they were still there? That he hadn't dreamed 
them up? And how to ask where they had come from... did he even know? The boy... did 
they have anything to do with...

"Asato, do you have any questions regarding the assignment?" Kanoe asked, his voice 
low with impatience.

"Yes sir!" Then, as he gave a rather abrupt salute.  "What is the mission, sir? I can't make 
heads or tails of these..."

At which their boss sank down in his chair as if he wished the earth below would 
swallow him up again, though it had not been in any such mood as of late, his fingers 
pinched at his nose bridge as if their presence would ward off the headache.  The pained 
look on his face mad Tsuzuki almost wish he could scare it away with a quick fuda 
application.

After all, a boss with a headache is not a happy boss willing to capitulate on any matters 
or be civil in any way.

"Your mission is a simple search and retrieve of an escapee evil spirit.  Sei's..."

The elder shinigami's eyes lit up then as if he had been presented with a bowl of 
Bavarian cream that had "eat me" written all over it in white sugar.  "You mean... I knew 
it! Seishirou in X! He's real!" For writers of all sorts were well known in Meifu for 
showing up at court with the demon of their inspiration at their side. "And I get to capture 
him! Oh happy day!" A girlish blush began to make itself known on his cheeks.  "Just 
how do I catch him? Do I get to be the bate? Tell me I'm the bate! I do a mean Subaru 
imperson-..."

Hisoka most prudently borrowed Wakaba's squeaky hammer (as she was not about) and 
pummeled his  companion into silence with it.  

"No, a Sei is a KIND of spirit, not a particular spirit.  They only make their presence 
known in the highlands of Papua, New Guinea where they have a symbiotic relationship 
with the Kalui people, insomuch at least, that they keep one another in check.  The Seis 
feed on the Kalui's spirits, and the Kalui keep the Sei at bay."

"That rhymes! Sei at bay, Sei at bay..."

"Keep it up and I will find a way to make 'Asato' rhyme with 'fired'."

"Yes sir..."

Sighs all around and having cleared his throat and made some attempt to loosen the knot 
of his tie, Kanoe continued.  "As you have hopefully figured out though, one has 
suddenly wandered into your jurisdiction.  The Oceana branch just called to alert us this 
morning.  They would like him returned at once.  There seems to be an elderly woman he 
has refused to eat."

"Eat?" The file sank somewhat in Tsuzuki's hands as if he had little interest in coming 
into contact with even mentions of such things that he could not read.  

"Well, in a matter of speaking.  A Sei is rather like a parasitic shikigami, only without 
bestowing its abilities to the owner.  They have no bodies of their own, and very little 
spiritual essence, therefore, they survive by attaching themselves to their victims essence, 
in the terms of the people they typically inhabit, their heart.  From there, they not only 
suck away the hosts vitality, but use the soul, or the body and the soul, to attack and kill 
others."

"Side dishes..." a passer by mumbled and Tsuzuki gulped terribly at their remark.

"This is usually a slow process, but the Japanese people don't seem to be satisfying the 
creature.  It is already responsible for fifty deaths, where in its how country, in the time 
since it escaped, we could only have expected it to have wounded one."

"FIFTY!?"

"Fifty-three to be exact."

***

Hisoka piped up then. "Doesn't sound like it'll be that simple to catch it, frankly." 

Kanoe rocked back hard in his chair, making it squeak for mercy. "It won't be any harder 
than any of the other missions you two have gone on." 

"Ah." /As I implied--this case will be tricky./ Hisoka set his cup down on the one bare 
corner of the chief's desk and moved closer to Tsuzuki to look at the folder he still held in 
his hands. And was struck by the urge to rub his cheek against the older shinigami's arm. 

/Ack! No, no, no.../ 

In the end he took the folder from his partner's hands and plopped himself down in a 
nearby chair so he could examine it in peace. And without much distractions. 

Okay, without that ONE distraction. 

"Mm, Chief?" he said, glancing at and setting aside a photograph of one unlucky victim. 
"How will we be able to detect these creatures? Will we feel them? See them?"

***

"Bait them?" Tsuzuki wondered out loud, for he had slipped that moment into pondering 
the most fascinating gaze from Hisoka. Well, not that the telepath didn't give him all 
sorts of not exactly normal glances with those two, huge, haunted peridot orbits of his 
that just... curiouser and curiouser. All the curiosity was making him hungry. That, and 
he wasn't much for bate as long as Muraki lived, and breathed, and did so for no purpose 
besides sexually molesting him. 

"No, you won't have to bate it," Kanoe assured him, nodding a moment in the one thing 
at very least they could call a camaraderie. The chief wasn't into bait either. Mostly 
because for the same reasons as Tsuzuki, the fact the attentions were not directed at him 
personally notwithstanding. "Not in the least. Seis are quite capable of manifesting 
themselves visually, they just don't like to as it uses up a good part of their energy. The 
data from the New Guinea office, however, isn't clear as to just what circumstances tend 
to drive them to show themselves. Some sort of provocation, that's not doubted. Your 
presence alone might drive it out, or you may find it when it tries to pass between 
victims, to take another one. At the very least, don't try to sense it! It's simply too small 
for that." 

"Gottcha." Though in reality, Tsuzuki didn't get it at all. Well, the concept of the mission 
was flawless at least, but all truth be told, he really hated search and retrieve missions that 
involved third parties. They reminded him of the times with Maria, and Sachiko, and 
Tsurugi and a thousand other faces not all of which whispered him back to the mad 
doctor. There was nothing eb could do though besides yawn, and stretch, and hope 
Hisoka's especially petulant mood would abte. "Anything else?" 

"Well, yes, actually. According to legend, these Seis, when they do appear, are supposed 
to be... quite gruesome in appearance."

***

It was another gloriously resplendent day, oozing cherry blossoms and raining blue sky.  
At least, in Meifu it was.  And on such another delightful morning, one such residence of 
that land could only expect to soon enough find sleet or snow, or unbearable heat on 
earth.

Not so this day.  Not so at all.  Watari and Tatsumi found themselves hardly able to 
distinguish between one land and the next, save for the trembling afterthought of bone 
that resided with the dead, the dying and their candles.

And it was also a school day, which meant no little lassies shrilly crying out their 
merriment about the perfume counters and the swimwear, for being as it was spring, the 
most logical time to shop for spring clothing, all the summer fashions had already gone 
about usurping the shelves, a fact which did well for at least one of the shinigami, who 
had his hopes set on the brighter garb anticipation of the hotter days did bring.

Watari though did very well keeping most of his elation to himself.  He did not race 
hither and thither about the displays, he did not sniff every bottle of cologne like a child 
might have.  He did not even squeal more than twice at a bath suit he could not afford.  
No, as unexpected as could be, he went with jingling steps from window to window, 
mannequin to mannequin, minding to keep his hands off the merchandise unless he 
seemed sure it suited him.

Oddly enough, not everything did.  It took him nearly an hour to finally settle on 
something he wanted to try on.

"Ne, ne! Tatsumi-san! What do you think of this?"

He held up a sleeveless sundress of white printed with hot pink and orange and yellow 
butterflies.

***

Tatsumi, who had been doing his level best to look inconspicuous in the midst of all the 
frippery and frills about him, fairly cringed when Watari summoned him. He glanced 
self-consciously about him as he made his way to his companion, even though no one at 
all was paying either of them any mind. Tatsumi was WAY out of his element, and with 
every moment he regretted having accepted Watari's offer. 

Well, almost every moment. There were times when the blond doctor would slyly touch 
his sleeve, or lean in to whisper in his ear, hot breath tickling his skin. Those moments 
were what truly kept him from bolting altogether. 

If only they weren't so few and far between. 

"I don't think I'm the person you should ask about that. I'm not an expert on women's 
fashions. I mean...it's pretty," he added, lamely. "I don't know!"

***

"Pretty's good enough for me, silly!" Watari exclaimed, and clasping the dress to himself 
rather like he might have a dance partner, he whirled about his companion in little ballet 
circles, coming to rest with his nose but a few inches from his collar.  "Ne, you're 
blushing, you really are!"

But with his lips settled just above his skin after one cautious glance he had taken about, 
"I wonder why?"

The kiss lasted only as long as the phantom blossom of a raindrop smashed on a 
windshield before the others wash it away, and with a few jangling skips, the doctor left 
his friend and asked if he might be admitted to one of the dressing rooms.

Where he stayed for many a minute, humming just loudly enough to be heard, and plainly 
fiddling with something soft that just barely made a rustle under his fingers.  At last, he 
came bounding out, front of his skirt pinched up just a little between his fingers.  The 
dress though, was sleeveless and so bared the pale powder blue of his bra beneath.  It 
fitted him well enough besides, and he actually minded as he pranced over to Tatsumi, 
that he did not flash his stocking rims or anything back that.  

"So, do you want to take me to the paper boat races yet?"

***

Tatsumi looked him over rather coolly, clearing his throat a bit when he saw the stripe of 
blue spandex hugging his companion's skin. "I didn't know you were much of one for 
paper boat races." 

The secretive little smile Watari gave him was mirrored by the secretary's own bemused 
glance. Casually shifting his bespectacled eyes this way and that and finding them more 
or less unheeded, Tatsumi slipped his fingers under the wide strap of the dress and 
hooked it around Watari's bra strap, working it off his shoulder and onto his upper arm. 
There it hung while Tatsumi petted it. 

"If I take you to the boat races, will you wear this same bra? And if you wear it..." 

Another peek around, and he bent to kiss that smidgen of blue satin strap. "Will you let 
me take it off?"

*** 

Watari's nose promptly went a little closer to rose, and demurely did he divert his eyes, 
though the unassuming smirk that came to his lips remained.  "Aaa...! Etchi etchi! 
Making such deals with a lady!"

But he winked then, and tossed his hair a bit as he bounded off once more, kicking the 
back of his skirt just a little higher than it would have gone on its own.  "You've got a 
date, Tatsumi-san! I think I will have to get a different dress though! Maa maa! This one 
won't do at all..."

It took him much less time to get the dress off than to put it on, though it was still some 
time, since he would not so much as peep outside his door until all of his original 
garments had been set to the exact same rights as they had early that morning when he 
had put them on.  He offered what he had tried on to one of the clerks, apologizing 
profusely that he had bothered her so before and then not bought it, though he seemed 
damn jolly about leaving otherwise, floating over to his companion on naught but the tips 
of his toes.  

"You know," speaking now as if he continued their conversation from breaths before 
rather than minutes.  "I kind of like etchi... haha! Now you blushed too! Kako-ii!" And 
he giggled, just a little, skipping a few paces ahead into the arcade.  

A glass ceiling settled above them, or at least a few winsome cut out skylights- all cute, 
puffy sorts of shapes leaving bright trails on the dark, polished brick that rimmed the 
floor and the clusters of fountains and living plants.  He waited for his friend by one, 
beckoning with his smile, and searching his purse for a few yen to cast into the 
murmuring water, which could actually be heard, for it was a quiet time of day yet, a 
quiet day all together.

"Hoshiko!" someone called with a giggle though.  "Is that you, Hoshiko? My god!" 
laughter then in their voice.

Though it was Watari who glanced up, and who waved gently  to someone in the distance 
who short came traipsing up to him.  "It most certainly is me!" he answered.

A finely built middle aged man with graying pale brown hair appeared before the two 
shinigami then, waving to both, (though certainly Tatsumi had never seen the fellow 
before in his life).  He wore a faintly simple suit jacket of dove grey, the sort one might 
wear to a business meeting where everyone is quite friends.  That and his burgundy tie 
was undone. He had rings though on every finger, and both his ears had been pierced, 
though left unadorned that day.  He looked upon the doctor the a shocked gaiety to his 
cornflower eyes, and took his hands as once more he called him by the wrong name with 
his light, small voice.  "Well then! Happy birthday, Hoshiko!"

Only then did Watari bow, "Arigatou gozaimasu!"

"Yes! Thank you for calling us."

"Oh no! Thank you for putting up with me being backwards about it.  You're always 
saying you'd like to be the one to get the long distance bill now and then, but with my 
schedule."

"Oh! Don't worry! Don't worry at all! It's more than enough you keep all the little 
patrikas happy in our silly demands.  And me too!"

So they giggled, together, in harmony, the blond shinigami drawing back then, and 
standing just a touch behind his companion, who he was plainly delighted in showing off.  
"Sorry for taking so long to introduce you.  Sen, this is my very dear friend Tatsumi-san.  
Tatsumi-san, Sen."

(OOC: "Patrika" is a Cyprian word meaning "partridge", but idiomatically analogous to 
"darling".  And fell free to write a little for Sen, he's just very polite ^^.)

***  

Tatsumi tore his bewildered gaze away from Watari and settled them upon Sen, and was 
promptly shaken into action by the sight of his equally puzzled look. He made the 
appropriate bow and greeting, slipping Watari a particularly threatening glance as he 
straightened up. He wanted very much to drag his beskirted companion to the side and 
ask him what all this was about, but he couldn't very well do it! Watari had apparently 
spent a lot of time creating some secret life for himself, and it didn't see it as his right to 
destroy it. 

And damn, was he frustrated! 

Not that either of them seemed to notice. 

"Hoshiko has told me so much about you, Tatsumi-san." 

"Hm? Oh, oh, has...she? Well, I am afraid you have the advantage over me. Hoshiko 
hasn't ever told me about you." 

"Ah!" he exclaimed, stabbing at the air with one finger for emphasis. "She wouldn't! Our 
relationship is a secret one." 

/Secret one!?/ 

"How interesting." He gave Watari a dark sort of look, one which the good doctor 
blithely ignored.

***

Watari's hands promptly flew to his hips then, and he took a few sliding steps back over 
to Tatsumi.  "It's not like that, anata!" he protested with a giggle.  "Sen is very 
melodramatic."

"Guilty as charged and more so." This he said with a shake of his head and a long bow, 
plainly apologetic, (for he let his hands slip together as he did so, a faux pas or hyperbole 
Watari faintly giggled at) though he still smiled when he drew himself up.  The space the 
elder shinigami found himself trapped it was glowing with grins then, between the doctor 
and the visitor to their morning- they had very similar smiles, the sort that hints at 
unsanctioned ventures into cookie jars from very, very long ago.  Or not, in the doctor's 
case.  

But Sen blushed then, just a little.  "Oh my! You don't think we're..."

"Involved?" 

To the scowl that followed this, neither laughed, nor lost their grins.  Rather, a dreamy 
and companionable silence came and dusted over the little group.  No apologies, no 
joking refutes.  Just quiet among them, and a hand that brushed Tatsumi's that felt like 
powder.  

Their earthly guest shook his head at last and folded his be-ringed fingers before his 
chest.  "We're friends, but you don't see that too often in this world any longer, a man 
and a woman who simply enjoy each other's company and have no romantic 
entanglements with one another.  You can understand why we keep it quiet perhaps?"

"That," Watari spoke up then, "And Sen has a girlfriend.  How is Leona lately? You've 
hardly talked about her."

A sigh then and he shook his head with a laugh mocking someone or something far away 
from their group, "Her supervisor has decided it's not good for her to see older men and 
has been giving her all manner of troubles about me.  I hadn't said anything because I 
didn't want you to..."

"Why, that terrific lout! Why I'll..."

"...do that."

***

It just got odder and odder the longer he lingered with them. Tatsumi felt like he just 
come from a tennis match where the players hit the ball faster than he could see it. Not 
even a blur against the green. 

"Yes, well," he interjected at last, tired of their prattling and Leona. And Sen. Yeah, what 
about Sen, anyway? Where did he exactly fit into Watari's life? 

It was then that Watari's elbow smacked Tatsumi's side, and he left off his reverie with a 
start. Sen was looking at him expectantly, Watari just looked bemused. Apparently 
someone had said something. Tatsumi's guess was that the perpetrator was Sen. It turned 
out that he was right. 

"I asked what you did for a living, Tatsumi-san." 

"Oh. I'm the secretary to, ah, the head of a large company." 

"A male secretary? Well!" he grinned. "One doesn't see that everyday." 

"Not that sort. I..." He paused, staring blankly at Sen. Well, how WOULD he describe his 
duties? 

/Oh, yes, I keep up my company's accounts, manipulate shadows, and track down 
monsters and ghosts with my crossdressing cohort. Go me./ 

Tatsumi sort of slumped where he stood, defeated. "Nevermind." 

But Sen only nodded in misplaced sympathy, and clapped Tatsumi on the shoulder. "Ah, 
I know how it is, my good man! One must do what one can to eat! I say, more power to 
you!" 

"Yes, yes," he began, clearly chagrined (and Watari's smirking wasn't helping!) and 
wanting to change the subject. "Let's not talk about me anymore. Let's talk about...how 
the two of you met? I *am* most curious to hear that story--or is that a secret too?"

***

"I don't know, is it?" Watari asked of Sen, holding his finger to the side of his lips as if 
the issue required serious deliberation of one sort or another. 

Most curiously of all, Sen mimicked the gesture almost exactly in mirror. "Why, I'm not 
sure at all." 

"Are you sure you shouldn't apologize for insulting poor Tatsumi's job?" 

They blushed in unison as well, and the man, with another of his curiously feminine 
bows, swept down before the bespectacled shinigami. "Please, I did mean it as a jest." 

"No, you didn't." 

"I was testing to see if you were really so serious as Hoshiko had described. That's the 
truth!" 

Yet another pause, though within this one, their guest wheeled away in a sort of toneless 
dance across the floor, only to return, and stand with his ankles crossed before them both. 
"You can not imagine how glad I am that you are so serious! That is honesty if nothing 
more!" 

"And now I'm offended!" Watari piped up. 

But they laughed, together, and it was the doctor this time who made his own presence 
known on Tatsumi's, his arm brushing over his back in a sort of momentary embrace not 
readily caught by anyone's eyes. 

Sen once more then, "I believe though that it isn't a secret at all though, how we met. 
You see, it's not a secret because it's a fairly boring story. We went to college together, 
you see." 

"This being back in the seventies when hardly any girls went to universities." 

Sen winked a little, almost shaking his head, as if he meant to bring something else out in 
the last few words more than what they meant. "Why, yes! But that didn't keep them 
from showing up in the lab at two in the morning." 

"With all the little boys who knew no better." 

""That's exactly how we ran into each other." 

"And we were both just SOOOOO dedicated..." 

"What could we be but friends?" Ingenuousness had him then, the sort that holds, that 
pierces, and that with subtlety unsaid remains known in hearts for longer that it could 
ever live on air or threads within the plastic of a disc where such things supposedly may 
last forever.

***

"I see," Tatsumi replied, the only reply he had thought to make. He nodded, and then 
turned to the doctor. "Wa--Hoshiko? I'm going over there for a soda. You take your time 
though. Reminisce as much as you like." He turned to Sen with a formal bow. "It was a 
pleasure meeting you, Sen-san." 

With that he strolled away, loosening his tie and top button as he went. 

/A man who bows like a woman. A man who went to university with Watari./ 

He fished out a few coins from his trouser pocket and counted out the necessary change 
for the machine. /Watari who posed as a woman named Hoshiko as long ago as that!/ 

/Does that guy ever wonder why Watari hasn't aged? Probably thinks it's just all due to 
plastic surgery and strict dieting./ 

Tatsumi took a sip of his soda, regarded it, then placed the frosty can against his forehead 
and slumped against the wall with a quiet sigh. /And I have got to stop thinking so damn 
much./ 

***

It wasn't especially long though until Tatsumi felt something warm skate up alongside 
the metal of the can.  Something silky and scratchy together like well loved bedsheets.  
The machine beside him jingled  and so did a laugh he knew quite well.  

"Thank you for putting up with Sen and I," Watari gave a merry little sigh and scooted up 
just a little closer to Tatsumi.  Close enough to leave little perfume traces on his suit if he 
would have stayed a little longer.  But he clattered to the side and took a place along the 
wall to his companion's right.  Slump he did not though, but stayed at a prim little 
posture with only his heels to the brick if that.  His can of coffee he opened with the side 
of his finger though- the only masculine thing he had done in hours, that not risking his 
nails.  He even drank with slow and tiny wine sips that left lipstick on the rim of his can.

"He wanted me to say 'ja ne!' for him, since he had to hurry off.  He really did enjoy 
meeting you."

Another few little draughts, but this time, his wrist came close to those painted lips, 
almost smeared across them.  It was all he could do to catch himself in the end.  When he 
spoke next part of his voice was lost as that gesture, and the male part of him.  "Please 
don't be mad I didn't tell you about him.  I didn't... annou ne... I didn't... umm... I 
didn't..."

One tiny smile.

"I didn't want to trouble you with my life if you didn't want to hold hands with me."

(OOC: "Holding hands" being analogous to the English "going out".)

***

Tatsumi regarded him thoughtfully through two more sips of his soda before he spoke 
again, and even then his voice was as measured as Watari's. "You've thrown a lot at me in 
the space of two hours." He smiled. "You never do anything by halves, do you?" 

For that he got a quiet little laugh. Tatsumi took one last drink of his soda and then 
abandoned it altogether. He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket to dry away the 
damp his hand had gathered from the can's chill surface. 

"You know, you've caught me completely off guard, even though I knew you wanted to 
be a woman," he said as he tucked the square of white cotton away again. "I must say for 
the record, I still don't see why you would want to bother with that." 

Moving towards him, Tatsumi slowly looked him over, not leeringly, but with the air of a 
man wanting to drink in a thing of beauty. He stopped only when he had reached Watari's 
space, and he purposely invaded it. 

"You were handsome before, and you're lovely now. Why can't that be enough? Why 
can't you be Watari *and* Hoshiko, and not just the latter?" 

A glance around, and his hand shyly stole upon one long lock of gold as if he were 
merely picking leaves out of his companion's hair and not fondling it. "I would miss the 
man I've come to know."

***

When Watari looked back upon Tatsumi, a faint flush had crept over his nose and the 
middle of his cheeks, and his golden-brown eyes had become wide and shimmery, not 
with tears, but some sort of light that emotion does not well describe.  It was almost as if 
he had never expected to hear such words, that they were the work of some mystic who 
lived hidden in hills of snow and lingering silence.

Like they had been uttered in another time, another place, somewhere he had never been 
or dreamed of.

As if he had never expected to be honored with hearing such a thing in his whole life.

He started to open his mouth then, meaning to say something, but as if in awe, it was only 
a little his of his breath he could offer his companion.  At last, he stole a little glance 
around the arcade, and then blushing, came forward, tipping his hand against the palm 
that had worked its way against his hair.  

"Well... because..." this a little muffled, but not too much.  "I'm a woman, and it seems 
very strange to me you would like me better as a man, even if I seem to be one.  I know 
that sounds funny and all but..."

His voice suddenly went into the chirp of a young child.  "You mean you wouldn't mind 
one bit if I was a boy or a girl or neither or both? You mean it? WOW!"

***

"Um, well...No, in a way. But I'd prefer you as a man. You wouldn't be Watari to me, if 
you were otherwise." 

He turned his hand so it held Watari's, and he leaned in to add in a whisper, "And all the 
makeup and dresses you ever wear won't change that. Not for me. So be Hoshiko to the 
human world, if you wish, but...I wish you would remain Watari for me." 

Tatsumi brushed a kiss upon Watari's cheek as he stepped back. "I hope I am not being 
too forward in saying that I find the idea of you, a male, clad in feminine garb to be an 
erotic one. And that's all I will say on the subject." 

***

This time, Hoshiko did not blush in the least.  What there was of her in Watari drained 
away then leaving only the doctor behind, though sparkling in the powdery silk she had 
left upon his form, the dust of countless butterfly wings seen as the shimmer of his smile 
and faint, mischievous glow in his eyes that was most certainly not the sort he ever 
leveled a test tube.

But a good deal warmer somehow.  

Not bothering to take more than the barest glance around, the good doctor clapped one of 
his hands over the front of Tatsumi's pants.  And left it there.  For a long time.  Stroking 
him just the slightest bit through his pants.

"You most certainly do find it erotic!  Hard to tell with those trousers of course.  Sorry 
about that, should have noticed, certainly should have.  At any rate, though subtleties  suit 
you and make you charming in every way, would you like to let them go on their merry 
way for a bit perhaps?"

***

Tatsumi had NOT expected him to touch him. But since he had, and since he had dropped 
the guise of Hoshiko... 

"Oh, yesss," he sighed, pressing discreetly against Watari's hand. "I think I would." The 
hand which had been stroking the doctor's hair slid upwards to cup the back of his neck 
and Tatsumi leaned in for an outright kiss--just a small one. He came away with a trace of 
lipstick and this Tatsumi smoothed away with the tip of his pinky. 

"You know, I don't normally like pink. But...right now, I wouldn't mind if I wound up 
bearing such markings all over my body." He smirked at him most naughtily, and without 
one peek to see who might be spying, he boldly lay his hand upon Watari's beskirted 
thigh and petted him there. 

"I have a feeling you have a plan. I'm very interested in finding out what it might be."

***

Watari's leg pressed up against his companion's encroaching palm for a moment before, 
winking a bit, he drew away then, holding one finger to his lips.  "Why, you would be 
exactly right! In fact, if you'll just step right this way..."

Tatsumi though, with even the most enticing little summons form the lips of his fingers, 
would not come to him just yet, but stood back, admiring, as Tatsumi always seemed to 
do.  Certainly it was charming, very much so! And it made him want to stare back upon 
him for hours and hours and hours! But...

Then he remembered it might be even more fun if he snatched up his hand and lead him 
back into the lady's department, which was just what he did just then.  This time though, 
when their fingers laced, it was not merely closeness between them, but a tangle of small 
touches, caresses too finely wrought for the average eye to chance upon.

When they were well lost within the forest of frills, Watari plucked up a single aqua 
blouse wearing copper buttons and felt away, almost skipping.  Only his whisper stayed 
behind- come when I call.  

Hoshiko for a moment walked again, and through his voice, asked to be admitted to one 
of the fitting rooms.  A few moments, and the summons came, "Tatsumi-san! I'm not 
sure if this looks good on me.  Could you come here for a touch?"

He did, and through the crack between the door and its frame, Watari watched him walk 
like someone lost in a daydream that wouldn't quite end.  The sort that makes one blush 
all too easily.  The door, of course, in but a moment's time, snapped open and hid the 
other shinigami behind itself as well.

As for the doctor, he had not changed his clothes at all, only taken some of them off.  His 
dress and cardigan dangled from the hooks now beside the aqua blouse.  It was only him 
in his white stockings and the powder-blue and lace underthings- bra, corset, garter belt 
and satin panties -and the reflection of them behind him in the mirror.  

He said nothing.  Simply smiled.

***

Averting his eyes only long enough to quietly slide the lock's metal hasp into place, 
Tatsumi looked Watari over with the most anticipatory of smiles. "I think...that looks 
absolutely smashing on you. Ohh, too good, in fact." 

His jacket wound up on a stray hanger he found on the wall hook on his left; his tie 
followed soon after. Tatsumi then advanced upon Watari like a hunter wanting to savor 
the moment of capture. His fingers found their way to his hair, trailing over the surface 
but never immersing themselves. They swooped down to hook over Watari's shoulder, 
and Tatsumi stroked the smooth flesh of his exposed upper chest with his thumb. "But 
you know...I don't think it would hurt for you to lose a piece or two. The question is--
which pieces?" 

He slid his hand upward to loosely grasp Watari's throat, and leaned in a for quick, 
teasing kiss. Then he dropped his hand back where he'd had it, and began to circle him, 
his hand drifting down his arm to catch his hand. 

"It's so hard to choose," he murmured as he lifted that hand to his lips to kiss. "So...I think 
I'll have to start with what covers what I'd like to see first." 

Tatsumi's lips touched Watari's knuckles, and then he lowered his hand to his side, and 
settled his own upon Watari's upper back. He toyed with his bra straps, petting them, and 
then let his hands fall to the top of his corset. "I think...I'll start here," he whispered, 
popping free the first hook. "And then the bra, and then your panties, your garter. I think 
I'll leave your stockings alone." 

A few more shy pops, and the corset fell away from Watari's middle. Tatsumi withdrew 
it, and lay it carefully upon the narrow little bench to the right of the mirror. Then he 
snaked his hands around Watari's waist, lightly petting all the way down to cup his satin-
covered sex. His lips found the curve of his neck, the slope of his shoulder, and when 
they met the dainty strap, Tatsumi caught it with his teeth, and gingerly slid it off his 
shoulder. 

"Any complaints so far?"

***

Watari moued softly, drinking down his own chuckles all the way through his slow, easy 
breaths.  He finally seemed to remember then that he still had control over body, that he 
was not a statue of himself, and so, still pouting mischievously, string his arms around 
Tatsumi's back before the other shinigami could rise from his shoulder, crossed his legs.  
Pulled down his collar and left the first of many rose-pink lip prints there.

"Yes! You're not being fair at all.  Don't I get to look at you too?"

Before he even had a chance to reach for the first of his lover's still fastened buttons, he 
had stool, still in his arms, and started to part them on his own, one by one, letting 
Watari's eyes have all the time they could ever like to follow his fingertips down to his 
waist.  The doctor could not decide then, if he liked those fingers better revealing 
Tatsumi, or if he was wont to rather have them on him through the sheath of silk that still 
wrapped him.  

He took no time to ponder this though, as he might have expected himself to.  Did not 
wonder over waiting, over the fact the man in his embrace felt as warm and living as 
could be, and that no mortal, perhaps not even he (no longer among them), could have 
though of him then as being long lost to the real world.

But what of the real world could possibly remain in the sight of Tatsumi, half naked, 
wearing nothing but the sigil of his lips above his waist?  That one endearing flaw that 
another kiss could have wiped away.

Could have.

Though he did kiss him again.  Slowly on the lips that gave way under his as those hands 
came back onto him and petted just the slightest bit.  He sighed into him.  His bra strap 
drooped just that much more, and since both of their stomachs were bare, he rubbed up 
against him there and felt his breath draw faster.

"You know, I almost don't believe you followed me in here like this." A muffled laugh, 
and another kiss, he broke off only to finish before taking his mouth in his own once 
again.  "Didn't seem like the type and all but... oooh, I think I'd like to find out what else 
I've got wrong about you."

***

Tatsumi sought a kiss for himself. "Stick around Watari, and you just might..." 

Another kiss, and Watari bent his head back. Tatsumi promptly buried his face against his 
throat, smothering him with kisses and bites. The strap which still clung to the blond's 
shoulder quickly fell victim to Tatsumi's eager hand, and he ducked down a bit lower to 
bite at the flesh beneath one collarbone. Then he rose to hungrily kiss Watari again. 

His hands wandered down his arms, his sides, and around to his back, where they moved 
to gingerly clasp the hook and eye of Watari's bra, and work them free. Tatsumi broke the 
kiss when he felt it give, and crumpled the silky garment in his grip as he drew it away 
from Watari's chest. He held it at a slight angle, so the dainty pads of his false bosom 
would not fall from the cups. The bra wound up on the bench. Tatsumi pressed Watari 
against one bare wall, heel of his hand firmly braced upon one shoulder, and the other 
skimming over his chest. He tweaked one tan nipple between finger and thumb, making 
Watari gasp. Tatsumi only gave him a smirk. 

And then he was gone, on his knees now between Watari's feet, and he was raining kisses 
down upon the band of bare skin between his panties and the tops of his stockings. 

"I want you, Watari," he whispered against his thigh as the first snap was wiggled free 
from the delicate stocking. "I want you anyway I can have you." 

More kisses, and the rest followed suit. Tatsumi wrapped his arms around Watari's waist 
to ease the hook from its lacy loop, and the garter belt fluttered to the floor. Tatsumi 
mouthed him through the satin of his panties, kissed him on the flat of his lower stomach, 
then rose, biting gently upon the nipple he'd neglected earlier. Tatsumi leaned into 
Watari, holding his legs apart with one of his own, and wrapped his arms around him. 

"How will you let me have you, Watari?"

***

For one curling, misty moment, Watari went still in his lover's arms and gazed at him 
there with wide, soft eyes that did not seem to see him as he was then, hovering just 
above his skin under the pale, watery lights of the dressing room.  Tatsumi seemed to 
take this as a sign something had gone wrong between them, and so his hand crept up 
rather against the rouge on his cheek and remained there for some time, petting bit by bit 
without a sigh of care for the dust that would be settled on his fingers while he touched.

The doctor though, sighed then, and smiled with what pink still graced his lips.  The palm 
against him, he took in his own, held it close and leaned into it, nuzzling just the littlest 
bit.  All tenderness and romance without true winsome graces of the body, at least until 
he swayed forward over the thigh that parted his own, and purred at the feel of the 
dampened satin he still wore sliding over him.

"Betsuni... it's just been the longest time since anyone said that to me."

Silence then but for their creeping breaths and the powdered blush on Tatsumi's hand 
found its way into his companion's lips, where it lingered, just the same about his finger, 
and inside the tingling brush of the tongue that embraced it by then.

"Twenty years I think..." Spoken with a trail of saliva still hung between then, one that 
did not break until he kissed the digit once again.

And then began to draw away... lips, and hand and legs until it was only their eyes still 
touching.

"Tell me how long its been for you.  I haven't been with anyone since I died.  That's 
almost twenty years."

In the corner that was closest to the mirror Watari drew himself, curling his bare chest up 
on his bracing arms and arching his back towards his companion.  It was only his 
stockings on his spread legs, what lay beneath the barely corporeal satin of his panties 
and the golden tumble of his hair in the real world, while his dreamily erotic grin lingered 
only in the plate of glass.  

***

Tatsumi's eyes briefly left Watari's to trace the strong lines of his back, the curves of his 
satin-clad ass. "It's been so long, I don't really remember," he said, catching his reflection 
once more in the mirror. "It's always been work with me. I've put that ahead of everything 
else. Everything..." 

His hands followed suit, reading the bumps of Watari's spine, the way his waist narrowed 
to meet his hips. He let them linger there as he moved closer to him. "If I felt anything for 
anyone at all, I never told them. And sometimes, I wound up hurting them, because I 
didn't know the right words to say." 

He swept Watari's long golden hair over one shoulder, and leaned in to kiss him on the 
cheek. Then he hooked his hands in the narrow strip of satin which rode his slim hips and 
ripped the last of his underthings in two, making Watari gasp a little in startlement. 
Tatsumi watched as the offended garment slid to the floor between the blond's legs, then 
he lifted his eyes back up to linger upon the rosy column of flesh which bobbed amidst a 
patch of thick, golden curls. He didn't hesitate to touch him there, stroking the more 
sensitive underside with one fingertip before wrapping his hand around him and petting 
him more firmly. Watari moaned, and stretched at his touch, rubbing his ass against 
Tatsumi's naked groin. 

Dampening his free hand with his tongue as thoroughly as he could, Tatsumi slicked 
himself up, and then he guided the tip of his sex to the opening of Watari's body. And 
pushed into him until he was buried to the hilt inside of him. Biting his lip, Tatsumi 
buried his face against the side of Watari's neck, even as he worked the surging erection 
between the blond's legs.

***

"My panties!" Watari lamented with as quiet a shriek as he could manage, for he had 
been quite fond of the garments now shredded between his feet.  He would have gone on 
then, would have spoken as many soft words as he could find for them, but none came, 
for his eyes slipped upwards through the air and rather saw himself encircled by his 
lover's hand.  Sense had fled him for an instant, but now, here he was, cradled and 
pierced by the same man who gave just then one more long, slow thrust as far as he could 
reach himself into his body.

But it wasn't just the anymore.  He could feel Tatsumi's heart pounding between his own 
shoulder blades, feel the pressure of his breath against his whole body when they two 
wove closer together.  Every inch of his cock as it slid in and out of him and he had fight 
himself not to spasm and try to hold him still for and instant just for the sake of closeness.  

With a small, shuddering breath then, he turned and nuzzled his lips against his lover's 
forehead and whatever else of him be could reach then, the touch broken only by the 
moments he drew back and fought with his pleasure for breath.  In all of the endless 
warmth between them he still quivered inside and out, but would not cease the small 
attentions meant got Tatsumi where he could indeed touch him.

"It doesn't matter to me if you ever speak again, even if I do like the sound of your voice, 
just lots! This is eloquent enough for me."

This whispered, he took the hands around his stiffness in his own, and drew them around 
his waist, swaying in their loose embrace before arching back into one more thrust.

"Koi shite irashaimasu."

(OOC: That's a hyper polite form of "I love/lust you.")

***

Tatsumi briefly met Watari's gaze in the mirror as he turned to kiss the blond's cheek, his 
jaw, his breath wafting over his skin in between as Tatsumi was loathe to move far from 
him. Indeed, he was desperate to feel his skin against his own. He tightened his hold 
around Watari's narrow waist just a little, just to hold him more snugly as he slowly 
penetrated him again and again. 

"Koi shite irashaimasu," he breathed in Watari's ear, nuzzling it. "Dakara. Utsukushii 
tenshi e." 

Tatsumi nuzzled his cheek with kisses, wanting his mouth more. As if he could read his 
lover's mind, Watari turned his head just enough and they kissed deeply. Longingly. Then 
Tatsumi pulled back with one last kiss against the blond's temple. He buried his face in 
his hair, sighing. 

"I'll buy you new panties, no matter where we have to go to replace those I've torn. I don't 
care what they cost. It was worth it just to hold you there. Just to...see...you." 

Tatsumi, panting hard, pressed his lips to Watari's neck to muffle any sound he might 
make as he came. He was so close, teetering on the edge, but still he moved so slowly. If 
it would only last... 

"This is worth...everything..."

***

Watari felt his lover begin to tremble inside him then as so shivered himself in answer, 
his eyes settling on the mirror and their reflections there entwined.  His glasses had begun 
to slid from the edge of his nose, but he could still make them both out well enough.  The 
heat he felt manifested on his skin had come through in a lingering blush about his cheeks 
and waist even here his hips were still snuggled all around by Tatsumi's creeping 
embrace.  

The other shinigami sighed into him with his lips and them his cock.  Without any lube 
between them he could sense every flutter on his skin where it had sunk into him besides 
the warmth of the heat blooming harder where he had been touched, was being touched.  

"Even if the walls decide to fall down in the next few seconds... it's true, what you said.  
That and... ohhhhhh... more I would think."

He braced his feet then against the edge of the cover where he had balanced himself and 
took one of his hands from the wall, drawing it lightly against Tatsumi's cheek, a kiss 
with his fingers, that lasted and lingered, for he held him there while they swayed a little 
longer.  He hadn't felt ready himself to climax, but the moan against his skin, the little 
jerk in the pace of his lover's movements, that brought his orgasm on, and a blush for the 
single flashing memory this was indeed the same man he had been going to work with so 
long who he might not have ever dared touch just days before.  

A hand  clasped his tip when he came, and only a small sigh passed his lips.  His knees 
though, did not do well, so it was with the echoing gasp of his stockings against the wall 
that he began to fall.

Tatsumi caught him though, drawing his arms that much tighter and thrusting into him 
once more so for an instant, Watari found himself balanced solely on his fading erection 
like a bit of silk upon a pin.  

"Suge..."

***

"That's an understatement..." 

Tatsumi rocked to the side, taking his lover with him; that one wall quivered as his 
weight met it, but it miraculously held. Panting from the force of his orgasm, Tatsumi 
withdrew from his lover, and knelt on the floor, arms still locked around Watari's waist. 
He kissed whatever skin lay within his immediate reach, his hands roaming tenderly over 
the blond's body as if he sought to assure himself that the man in his arms was real, and 
not some ghost from a fantasy. 

"I can't believe we've just done this. I never thought--" Tatsumi chuckled softly, his 
breath fanning Watari's cheek. "That is, I have thought about it. I've thought of many 
things regarding you. I never believed though that I would ever have a chance with you."

***

At those words, Watari started in his lover's arms.  He blushed then, could not seem to 
face him in to mirror, Tatsumi.  His eyes were wide when he did, the other shinigami's 
face kissed with red, though if that was from their tryst or something else... he could not 
say, and did not wish to.  Not just yet.  

For he needed time enough to drop to his knees, which he did then, keeping his lover's 
hands beneath his own as he did so, and they glided then against his skin as knelt.  A little 
cum dripped from him as he crouched, and his heels pulled out of his shoes.  He didn't 
seem to care about either.  The shoes ended up in the far corner with a dull clatter.

Tatsumi ended up in his arms, have tugged onto his lap once he had folded his knees 
together.  He smoothed his hair and kissed him about his glasses then.  

"You're here now, ne, ne?" The voice was so feathery, so creamy, more than sound 
should ever hope to be, that it could be said then it sounded not so much like Watari, but 
a woman who had been raised with him.  "You did tell me.  You've made me so glad, 
Tatsumi, I know it's hard to tell sometimes with me, but you really have.  It's all I can do 
to hope I'm everything you dreamed of."

Though even as he said that, he glanced a moment to the mirror, for his lover's eyes no 
longer her harbored there, and smiled at himself, for he knew it wasn't true.

Not quite.

But then again, dreams care only for the recent memories, the fragments of the day, and 
there is little in them in the minds of most which first abided in the mind many years ago.

***

Some half an hour later, the two shinigami detectives were standing in the sakura grove 
in front of the Shokan Division's offices. Copies of a few key documents were now in 
Hisoka's possession, tucked safely away in a closely guarded manila envelope. Not that 
Tsuzuki was all that interested in filching it from him. He was clearly still addled from 
his umpteenth lecture. Not even the fluttering pink petals, the sight of which he always 
seemed to enjoy, could cheer him up. In fact, he lagged behind so badly that Hisoka'd had 
to often stop and wait for him to catch him up. 

"Getting into a funk over not being able to buy ice cream. That's just ridiculous." 

*Silence* 

"Are you going to be like this for the rest of the day?" 

*Silence* 

Hisoka sighed, and puffed his bangs out of his eyes. He switched the envelope to his 
other hand, and resolutely walked on. Or attempted to. Tsuzuki's glum quietude affected 
him more than he cared to admit to himself. Finally, he whirled about and said, 

"When we get to Akasaka, I'll buy you an ice cream, okay? Whatever you want. But only 
that ONE time, and then we get down to work!"

***

Tsuzuki responded to this by doing exactly what was expected of him in such titillating 
situations.  

"WAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! HISOKA! Sankyu sankyu sankyuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!" 
This uttered amid much bouncing and twirling and somersaulting that got him tangled up 
in his coat-tails in no time at all.  Something ripped, but he managed to get out of it just 
the same, and singing proceeded to skip around Hisoka, expressing his gratitude in 
snatches of many tongues.  "Today is Tsuzuki's lucky-lucky day! YAYYYYYYYYYY! 
Happiness!"

Hisoka of course, kept right on walking, as if he saw no such hyperactive stunts of 
thanks, as if he knew he had a child for a partner in some respects.  Doubtless, he did.  

But as he wound down, Tsuzuki began to frown a little, because it came to him at once 
that the boy probably hadn't thought that this for once had been no shallow funk, but 
rather a contemplation of... well... the boy himself.  

"I'll treat you to... umm... something not sweet sometime then! And I promise I won't 
cook it myself.  I really mean it!"

There came then the edge of the Shokan's realm, the place where one lake ended and one 
began.  Invisible, but one sighing and one wondering aloud about tempura as cuisine, 
they walked across the water in the dead world and into the living where the only sign of 
them at first was a slight disruption in the spray of one of the fountains about the lilies. 

***

The fountain in question was the center piece of a small park which lay at the edges of 
Tokyo's business district. It being morning, there was hardly anyone around--not that it 
mattered. No one would have seen them unless they chose to be visible. Cars raced past 
on the street beyond, and couriers rode or walked to and fro past the park. Hisoka stood 
for a moment and took it all in, then he stepped over the fountain's retaining wall; his 
sneakers hadn't been affected by the water at all. 

"Okay. We're here, and..." he looked around, then pointed off to his right, "the ice cream 
shop is over there." He squinted up at Tsuzuki. "Do you want to head over there now, or 
do you want to do some scouting around the apartment building where another of the 
victims was found?"

***

Tsuzuki gave a little sigh for the souls he had not been able to protect and then left them 
to the whiles of their of deaths, choosing instead to take his partner by his insubstantial 
wrist and shirt that kept it from his own skin and run with him down the nearest path that 
happened to lead towards the ice cream shop in question.  A laugh stole over him then, 
brought to him on purpose to banish all sadness.

Too lovely a day it was to frown right off.

And he wanted Hisoka to know that too.  In whatever way there was to tell him.  They 
hid behind a corner for just a moment to bring themselves into sight and then they ran 
again, the boy not under much of his own power, but running still, and saying nothing 
straight off in protest.  

"You know," he began not caring it seemed at first if anyone heard.  "I remember when 
that park ran all the way over here, and there was nothing to seen but grass and trees until 
the temples started right over there.  And no paths! Not even sidewalk.  Just koi and the 
spires of buildings as far as the eye could see.  You would have loved it here, ice cream 
or not."

On that, his sprint finally broke, and he fell still before the fa‡ade of a small, white 
building where hovered a handful of sleepy looking girls, all gazing out the window.  A 
few started to rise when they saw the pair, but found them to be no lover's of theirs, and 
so floated back down, sighing.

***

Hisoka was still reeling a bit from the strength of his partner's joy, which continued to 
drift to him unabated, so he wasn't quite aware that Tsuzuki still held his wrist. His mind 
had filled with images of what the park might have looked like. He couldn't help but 
wonder how Tokyo must have looked when Tsuzuki was alive, and what it would have 
been like if they had met then. What was he like then? The same as now? Different? 
What would they have been to each other? 

Why did he really even care about all that? 

Hisoka shook off his idle musings when they tripped down that path, his face pinking 
with embarrassment. He twisted his wrist in Tsuzuki's grip, seeking freedom, and the 
elder shinigami loosened his hand. But when Hisoka drew back, he caught at him again, 
and led him through the door. Hand in hand. 

Hisoka, shocked, jerked away his tingling hand from his as they approached the counter, 
glancing this way and that. Some of the patrons had noticed how they had entered, and 
looks ranging from disgusted to amused were being leveled at them. Hisoka was hit by 
the force of their emotions, and of those who were oblivious--some weak and changing, 
others quite strong--almost too strong for Hisoka to handle. Dazedly, he clutched at 
Tsuzuki's sleeve as he dug out a handful of yen from his back pocket, forcing a wan 
smile. He didn't want his partner to know how badly he was being affected. 

"You get whatever you like, okay?" he said softly as he held out the notes to him. 
"I'm...just going to go get a table, okay?"

***

"Sankyu!" Tsuzuki caroled, blinded, and he knew it, by the allure of the sugared cream 
on display before him.  His partner left him, and he found his hand at once felt cold 
where the boy had before been holding him, or he the boy, who either way, most 
certainly was not a boy.  Not anymore.  He waved to him and bounded over to the 
counter, simpered at the girl there, who seemed to know him.  Frankly, he wasn't 
surprised by this, not in the least.  

What did, however, surprise him very much, was the selection today presented to him.   
Chocolate AND double chocolate.  Oh no! Whatever was he supposed to choose? Not to 
mention how pink and alluring the strawberry looked! And there was green tea and water 
chestnut too! 

"What would you like then?" The girl waiting on him asked, just softly enough to hint 
she was trying to trick him into starting a conversation with him.

"Maaaaaaaaaaane, I'm not sure just yet... well... umm..."

He imagined a wave of voices dancing through his thoughts- those of vanilla and 
chocolate and strawberry all together, shouting out the water chestnut and soon joined by 
the previously beaten down green tea.

It was enough to make him feel like he had shrunk down to the size of a child and 
sprouted puppy ears.

Which probably would have been less embarrassing than being reprimanded by ice 
cream.  Then, fortunately, he remembered the ice cream wasn't actually speaking, but 
rather he had over personified his thoughts.

"One double chocolate cone and one strawberry."

These in hand, he scampered back to the table where his partner was waiting, and 
wordlessly presented him the pink mound of ice cream.

***  

Tearing his eyes away from the modern world beyond the shop's window, Hisoka blinked 
stupidly at the pink-topped cone when it rose before his vision, and he was slow to take it 
from his partner's hand. The reason for his seeming reluctance was that he had been 
struggling to keep a shield between himself and the emotions which had assaulted him. 
But now... 

He never could keep such a shield for long around Tsuzuki, and the one he had formed 
quickly fell. Again, Hisoka tried his best not to let his distress show. He scowled at the 
cone before he bit into it, and lay another such upon his partner as he licked the sweet-tart 
stickness from his lips. He didn't like sweets much--but he did like strawberry ice cream. 
It surprised him that Tsuzuki had known about his preference. If he had known. Perhaps 
it was just a lucky guess? Hisoka figured he would never know. He certainly had no 
intention of asking him. 

"You didn't have to buy me a cone," he muttered between licks of strawberry. "I meant 
for you to indulge *yourself*, because I knew I wouldn't have any peace until you did." 

He bit into his cone. Tsuzuki averted his eyes as if he had been stung, and, unseen, 
Hisoka's expression softened. Heart twisting in his chest all over again. Hisoka dabbed at 
his mouth with one of the napkins from the steel holder at the table's wall-facing side. He 
wadded it up in his fist, bit his lip, then bit into the cone again. 

"So...Thanks for thinking of me," he murmured almost shyly, licking away a pink rivulet 
from the side of the sugary cone.

***

"Woul you're welcome! Even if I did SO have to buy you one," Tsuzuki refuted with a 
trembling giggle fluttering over his lips as he did so. "It's no fun at all to watch 
somebody else eat... eat anything at all.  Be~esides, remember the Earl's Ice Cream Day 
festival last year? You look so cute with ice cream on your nose, I couldn't resist the 
chance to see you like that again."

The napkin Hisoka had been holding sailed across the table and bopped the elder 
shinigami on the forehead, where. Thanks to the magic of sugar, it stuck for a moment 
before tumbling into his lap and landing lip-smudge side up. Fro one reason or another, 
he didn't flick it away, and just laughed in the end, the way people are supposed to laugh 
with old friends.  "Kidding, kidding.  Well, the part about your nose at least."

They both shook their heads, he in mimic of the boy before setting his lips to the side of 
the ice cream mound atop his cone.  His lips slid over his teeth as if he was taking 
something tender he dared not bite in his mouth, and with them he coaxed a small bite 
from the slick surface of the cone rather than simply lick the melting body of it.  Twice 
more he coaxed such nibbled from his cone, and then took to it again properly with his 
tongue, shaping the tip into a point and then licking it down.

He couldn't concentrate on the more delicate of those operations with what had just 
entered his thoughts then, and from the shy, distant look that had manifested in Hisoka's 
eyes, he knew his companion had felt the question as soon as he had.

"Ne, is something bothering you? I mean other than my spit-washing your arm this 
morning, which I really didn't mean to do.  You don't... have to tell me if you don't want 
to.  In fact, if it gets you that much, you can just pretend I didn't ask.  I'm just bein' 
nosey after all."    

***

Hisoka sat back in his chair, and pensively regarded the cone he held.  His free hand 
came to rest in the crook of his opposite elbow, forming a bar across his chest.  He felt so 
vulnerable--even more so than when he woke up that morning--for Tsuzuki wasn't 
following the rules of their little game.  He wasn't supposed to ask him how he felt, if 
something was wrong.  He was only supposed to pass his bouts of sulky temper off as his 
innate moodiness.  Or that's what Hisoka believed.  

But now he had asked, and Hisoka didn't know what to say to him.  How much should he 
say, if anything?  And how long could he keep it from him?  

Hisoka took a half-hearted lick at the sweet pink mound atop his cone, 
careful not to look Tsuzuki in the eye.  Might as well get it out in the open--to a point.  
"It's a tattoo.  I've had it for a long time, and I can't get rid of it.  I don't know if there is 
any way to remove it."  He bit into his cone, lapped a hollow into the side of the ice 
cream, then bit into it as well.  "It only shows up...under certain circumstances.  That's 
why it's not always visible."  

He paused, shrinking against the hard vinyl lump of his seat, and hesitantly raised his 
eyes to his partner.  "Did that satisfy your curiosity?"  

***

Tsuzuki had been looking back on Hisoka all the while, so when their eyes met again, it 
almost caught him off guard in a way, and so for what was really far too long a time, he 
simply matched their gaze, the breath that stirred their lashes and thusly permitted a 
double trickle of melted double chocolate to make its merry way down the lines of his 
knuckles.  Only the tickle of the drip finally making its way to the table brought him back 
to any state where he could speak, though he did so now as he cleaned his fingers with 
his tongue.

"Oh, it did! Even you you don't really have to go and worry about that, na? I mean, did it 
make you feel any better telling me?  That's what's important.  'Course I'd expect you to 
wait a long time to tell me something like that... thanks, you know, for doing it now."

And then he chuckled, just for an instant, for what he had tried to do that morning about 
the tattoo.  A tattoo.

Which gave him an idea, since after all, it was a very funny reaction for someone to have 
about a bit of art on their own body at least until somewhere some of his memories 
started to trip over themselves, reminding him that some that reminded him spells could 
look that way on people.  Sometimes.

But... purple? The only one he'd ever seen had been more of a chartreuse really.

"Would you like me to get one so we can match? I always thought I might look good 
with a tulip on my butt."

***

Hisoka's expression went from shy and tense to horrified, and then set once more in its 
typical glare. "No," he ground out. "I do NOT want you to get a tattoo to match mine. 
Baka!" 

The boy rose abruptly from his chair, making it wobble. He caught the curved metal back 
of it and dragged it the rest of the way out of his path. His mouth opened as if he would 
say more to Tsuzuki, but then Hisoka just sidled from the table and towards the door, 
depositing his half-eaten ice cream in the trash en route. He was positively alight with 
fury--how could Tsuzuki be so insensitive? Did he not realize how troubling the tattoo 
was to him? Or had he already forgotten how upset he had been that morning? 

Hisoka hadn't. His skin was prickling and crawling even now as he recalled that morning. 
Something horrible had happened to him, the tattoo's appearance was proof. He wanted to 
scream, wanted to run as far away as he possibly could get, in the hopes he might escape 
Muraki for good. Even though he knew he never would be able to find his freedom from 
his tormentor. It would never end. 

When Tsuzuki emerged some moments later, he found Hisoka sitting in the sheltering 
doorway of a closed shop. But Hisoka didn't look up at him when he approached; merely 
got to his feet, and moved past him, head down. One sleeve he rapidly scrubbed across 
his cheeks as he headed for the corner. 

Hisoka had been crying, and he didn't want Tsuzuki to know it.

*****