Thanks to Liz and thedemonprist for beta-ing, and Spren and Gengkotsuya for inspiration.
BTW, Gengkotsuya has done some lovely Tat/His art at OnePunch Art (click on the banner at my homepage). I adore her B&W artwork of the two of them enclosed by light and shadows - I was thinking of it constantly when I wrote this last part. They look so happy together. I get a big grin on my face just looking at it.
The dessert for the day was lemon meringue pie. Watari cut slices for each of them, taking care not to crush the fragile meringue topping. Tsuzuki poured tea and milk. Hisoka watched, strangely dissociated from his surroundings.
Why was he sitting here? He wasn't hungry. He wasn't thirsty. What did he feel? He didn't know anymore.
He swallowed down a mouthful of pie. Tangy-sweet lemon curd, delicate melt-in-the-mouth meringue. He normally didn't like sweets, but this wasn't too bad.
"Nice, huh?" Watari said as he cut a slice for himself. "I bought it from a patisserie in Kyoto. They make the most wonderful pastries."
"Next time get the apple tart," Tsuzuki told him. "We haven't had that in ages."
Watari sniffed. "We only had it last week. If you want it so much, then you go down and buy it yourself."
"You know I don't have the money! I'm still repaying the library reconstruction costs!"
Hisoka found comfort in their incessant bickering - the background noise helped distract his mind. He ate another mouthful of pie.
"Wait! Why don't we let Bon here decide?" Watari smiled at Hisoka. "Tell me what dessert you want for tomorrow's afternoon tea."
"There's no need to get me anything. In fact..." Hisoka adjusted the heavy weight of the sheathed katana hanging from his belt. "I should be practising in the dojo."
"But you haven't finished eating yet. You can't let it go to waste! There's still more pie here as well."
"That's right! You must keep your energy up!" Tsuzuki filled Hisoka's cup until it sloshed in the saucer. "Here, have more tea."
They both appeared so cheerful and energetic, overdoing everything in their desperation to please. Hisoka almost felt sorry for ruining their act, but he had to know. "Tsuzuki, Watari-san...how did you know where to find me?"
They glanced at each other.
"Well..." Watari paused for a moment. "We know you practise there every day."
Hisoka cast him an impatient look. "I know you know. That's not what I meant." He lowered his gaze. "Did you see him?"
"We saw Tatsumi return," Tsuzuki said quietly. "He walked past us as though we didn't exist."
Watari nodded. "Usually he reprimands us for being lazy and orders us inside. But when he didn't even look our way, we knew something went wrong."
"I see." Hisoka took a sip of tea. He didn't want to tell them what had happened in the dojo. For all their silly antics, neither of them were stupid. They could figure it out for themselves.
Tsuzuki leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "He didn't see the curse, Hisoka. And even if he did, he would never reject you because of it. Deep down, Tatsumi isn't mean-spirited or cruel."
"Yeah. Beneath his stern, pedantic and miserly exterior is a stern, pedantic and miserly tortured soul."
Tsuzuki elbowed Watari in the ribs. "Tatsumi wasn't thinking of the curse. I'm sure of it."
"But Tatsumi-san has considerable spiritual power - I felt it when I fought his shadow servant. How can you be so sure-"
"Kagetsu magic is a Yin art of combat and disguise," Tsuzuki explained. "It doesn't improve one's perception. If anything, kagetsu impairs one's abilities to detect spiritual phenomena."
"It does?"
"Definitely," Watari agreed. "It's an inevitable side-effect of accumulating spiritual energy of any kind - you end up absorbing some of the characteristics of the energy into your psyche. Think about it, Bon. Why do you think Tsuzuki here is so destructive?"
"Hey! That's unfair, Watari!"
"I just assumed he was always like this," Hisoka replied.
Tsuzuki buried his face in his hands. "You're both so mean. I'm getting better at controlling it, I swear!"
"Having twelve shikigami under your command must be a lot of work." Watari grinned and patted his shoulder. "We all understand."
"I didn't know. I never knew spiritual power could rebound and affect the practitioner."
"It's not as bad as it sounds," Tsuzuki said. "We all find ways to deal with it as we become more experienced."
"Some of us, anyway," Watari added.
Hisoka's brow puckered as he thought of Tatsumi and his shadows, murky and thick as they swirled around him.
"Don't feel sorry for Tatsumi, Bon. This is the power he's chosen for himself. He knew what he was getting into."
"I think that's why he chose it," Tsuzuki said. "Unpleasant memories and painful thoughts can be wrapped in shadows and locked away. But it comes at a price. When you live among shadows, you can forget how to perceive the world around you. Practitioners sometimes develop a type of blindness - something like tunnel vision."
"That's Tatsumi for you." Watari chuckled and shook his head. "He sees what he wants, and he's become so skilled at disguising his deep emotions that he's spooked when a new one hits him upside on the head."
"Yes." Tsuzuki looked down at his teacup, lips curved in a wistful smile. "Tatsumi also has an over-developed sense of responsibility. He insists on being stoic and strong, and doesn't want to burden anyone else with his feelings."
Hisoka knew Tsuzuki spoke from personal experience. This was why Tatsumi broke up their partnership - he had cared too much, and the pain of failure was impossible for him to bear. So he ran away, hurting the person he cared for in the process.
Was Tatsumi 'spooked', as Watari described it? Could that be why he left so abruptly?
Running away again and again - repeating the same pattern of dysfunctional behaviour throughout his life. And afterlife.
Hisoka looked down at his half-eaten pie. Just like me.
Tsuzuki cast a sidelong look at Hisoka, eyes gleaming with mischief. "But you're a powerful empath, ne? He can't disguise anything from you." He rested his chin in one upraised hand and winked. "You'll figure out his true feelings no matter how fast he runs!"
Hisoka blushed bright red. "Tsuzuki! It's not like that!"
"You could have fooled me," Watari retorted. "I know how much he spent on that katana. If buying that isn't a gesture of blatant favouritism, I don't know what is."
"Tsuzuki is his favourite, not me!"
"Are you sure?" Tsuzuki teased. "Why did he take time off from work to help you train?"
"Very suspicious," Watari agreed. "Tatsumi hardly ever takes breaks for anyone, let alone himself."
"He just wants me to be the best possible partner for Tsuzuki."
"Hisoka." Tsuzuki's voice was gentle but firm. "You are already the best partner for me. Your place is here, for as long as you want it. I am very proud to work with you as my partner."
"You are?"
Tsuzuki nodded. "But if you're going to continue to be my partner, you must promise not to worry so much about protecting me. I'm old enough to look after myself. You and Tatsumi mean well, but the two of you worry too much." He grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Remember, I'm the most senior Shinigami here!"
"With twelve Divine Commanders at his beck and call." Watari lifted his teacup in a mock-toast.
The most senior Shinigami in EnmaCho. Looking into Tsuzuki's earnest violet eyes, it was easy to forget this.
"So you promise not to worry?"
"I'll try my best."
"Good. Your best is more than enough for me. Always remember that."
Hisoka nodded, too touched for words.
Tsuzuki smiled warmly as he went back to sipping his tea.
Watari cleared his throat. "I'm going to finish off the rest of the pie if no one wants it."
"Hey!" Tsuzuki banged his cup down. "You haven't even given me a slice yet! And weren't you going to give more to Hisoka?"
Within minutes, they were embroiled in another squabble over food.
Hisoka observed them. He'd always dismissed their behaviour as childish and absurd until now. Could it be that their craving for sweets and penchant for goofy antics was a by-product of their spiritual powers - a safety valve for them to release the excess energy they commanded? Arguing over food was much less damaging than destroying buildings and setting the library on fire.
But Tatsumi didn't indulge in such playful behaviour. It wasn't in his sober nature. So how did he cope with the lingering darkness of kagetsu? Arguing with accountants and watering the potted plant in his office were hardly adequate outlets for one with such power.
Hisoka frowned, brow furrowing as he thought of how formidable Tatsumi looked as he stood under the maple tree, manipulating matter and light with the shadows. And the mysterious shadow servant - as tricky to catch as any phantom or ghost.
A thought came to him. Was that what Tatsumi was doing under the maple tree...and inside the dojo, by offering the shadow servant as a rival in battle? Was he seeking a suitable outlet for the restless energy inside him?
Hisoka didn't know. Somehow he didn't think the others did either. Tatsumi wasn't the type to share confidences, and his kagetsu powers were formidable. But Hisoka knew he could work his way past the barrier Tatsumi placed around his emanations: there was the grief and guilt in the Castle of Candles, and the greedy desire that spilled over into Hisoka's own mind today, bewildering him with its intensity and focus...
He doubted Watari and Tsuzuki ever saw him so vulnerable and shaken - or so fiercely passionate. Tatsumi would never let them see such weakness if he could help it. But Hisoka knew how to sense emotions, even if he couldn't always interpret them properly. His gift and curse - maybe he could fashion it into a weapon against Tatsumi's shadows.
A weapon like his katana - pure, straight and sharp.
He quickly finished his pie and stood up. "Thank you for the afternoon tea." He bowed. "I'll go back and get changed, then I'll return your coat to you, Tsuzuki."
"No problem!"
"Take care, Bon!"
They waited until he was well out of earshot before speaking further.
"You shouldn't have lied to him about the curse."
"I didn't lie. A curse, like any spell, can be broken." Tsuzuki shifted in his seat. "But not by us."
"So you asked?"
"Of course I asked!" Tsuzuki snapped. "I asked after our first assignment together, the first time I knew of it." He looked away, embarrassed by his anger. "I was turned down."
"I see." Watari sat back in his chair and looked up at the sakura. "Well, I'm not surprised. The curse is his reason for being a Shinigami. The day the curse is lifted is the day he will leave us for good."
"Yes." Tsuzuki picked up a sakura petal that had fallen on the table and crushed it between his fingers. "Muraki isn't the only one who gains from Hisoka's curse."
Watari cast him a warning look. "Don't say such things."
"You're so fickle, Watari. First you warn me about lying, and now you wish me silent when I speak truth." Tsuzuki shrugged. "As you wish."
"There's no point wishing for something that cannot be. Anyway, is it so bad for Bon to be here with us? We've been more of a family to him that his blood relations ever were."
"I suppose." Tsuzuki picked up another petal. "Maybe Tatsumi can do something to help Hisoka. Perhaps a kagetsu spell to conceal the marks."
"While Bon cracks open his shell to reveal the flesh-and-blood person hiding underneath?" Watari chuckled. "I could tell you were having fun playing cupid."
"Yeah." A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Tsuzuki's mouth. "Playing a god of love is a welcome change from working as a god of death." He crushed the second petal between his fingertips and let it fall to the table.
Watari eyed Tsuzuki over the rim of his glasses. "Are you all right with this?"
"I want them to be free of guilt and shame. They don't need to be weighed down by such oppressive emotions any longer." Tsuzuki withdrew a pair of velvet gloves from his trouser pocket and began to pull them on. "Don't you think they deserve to be happy after all they've suffered?"
"I agree - but I was asking about you."
"Don't meddle outside your speciality." Tsuzuki grinned at him, taking the sting out of the words. "There's only room for one empath in the Shoukanka, and it's not you." He adjusted the steel buckles around the cuffs, then began to pack up the plates. "Let's get back inside before Tatsumi takes out his frustration on us again."
That evening, Hisoka decided on a course of action.
He dressed in his hakama, gi robe and obi belt to prepare himself for the possibility of battle. Over them he wore his coat, for it was still windy outside. His katana was back at the dojo, inside the drawer of pawlonia wood.
His empathy would be his weapon tonight.
He slipped outside his house and went for a walk.
It was already dark, but a silver gibbous moon in the sky provided enough light for him to walk without trouble. As a child, he had never been afraid of the dark. Maybe it was because of the time he spent locked away as punishment by his parents for his empathic abilities. But there was something comforting about the darkness as well. One could blend in with the surroundings, find camouflage in the shadows. It could provide safety and shelter.
Despite what Tsuzuki and Watari said, shadows weren't all bad.
Hisoka could see why Tatsumi found it so appealing. He himself liked walking at night, free from the distractions of other people and their chaotic emotions. Alone, by himself, contemplating his own thoughts - it suited his introspective nature.
He kept walking, turning corners and crossing streets, following the map in his mind, until he came to a traditional house at the end of a cul-de-sac.
Tatsumi's residence.
He had never been inside Tatsumi's house, yet he had walked past it many times. Out of curiosity, he often wandered past the homes of his fellow shinigami. If they happened to see him, then they would invite him in - Tsuzuki often offered tea and some of his horrible cooking, which Hisoka always politely declined.
He never saw Tatsumi outside the front of his home. He assumed Tatsumi spent all his time inside, working from home. No one else in the Shoukanka was so devoted to their work like Tatsumi.
But maybe Tatsumi wasn't even at home. Maybe he had some hobby or vice he kept secret from everyone else. Tatsumi didn't reveal much about his life outside the Shoukanka. He guarded his privacy as closely as he guarded the Shoukanka's funding.
Doubt made Hisoka waver. Who knew what Tatsumi was doing inside? He might be busy. Maybe he would resent any interruption.
To presume that Tatsumi would want to see him after hours...what was he thinking?
Quietly he walked up the wooden veranda to the front door. Golden candlelight was visible through the paper screen windows, casting flickering shadows on the walls.
He reached out with his empathy, searching for a wisp of emotion or a fleeting thought. He didn't want Tatsumi to feel guilt or shame about what happened between them. If he could be sure Tatsumi was settled in mind and spirit, he would leave.
Nothing. It was as if no one was at home.
After much hesitation, Hisoka stepped down from the veranda and followed the stone path that led to the rear of the house. Closer proximity improved his ability to sense emotions.
The wind ruffled his hair and made the trees overhead rustle and sigh. The wooden beams of the house creaked a little. He pulled his coat closer around him. The moonlight was too thin to penetrate the shadow cast by the house so he walked with small steps, waiting for his eyes to adapt to the darkness.
But there was a definite presence ahead. Hisoka could sense something - a seething restlessness that hinted at power tightly leashed.
The rear veranda was empty.
Hisoka sighed. He was so sure Tatsumi was here. He could have sworn he sensed something.
He turned to look at the rear courtyard...and found himself staring into inky blackness. There was no moonlight, no tiled courtyard, no plants or stone garden. The surrounding atmosphere was heavy and thick, unmoved by the wind.
There was nothing. It was like looking into a miniature black hole that swallowed everything up and let nothing out. The longer he stared at it, the more he seemed drawn to it...
Was it an illusion?
Hisoka pressed himself against the wall of the house. It felt solid and real against his back. This wasn't an illusion, as far as he could tell. He reached out with his empathic powers, feeling again for a sign of life. Nothing.
Something flickered in the darkness.
Hisoka didn't dare move from the wall, but he squinted to see it better.
It didn't move. It was too dim to be a light source. As he looked, he suddenly realised that there were dozens - no, hundreds of them - flickering in the inky blackness like faint stars on a clear night.
Curiosity pulled at him, proving stronger than fear. Hisoka began to walk towards the nearest one.
As he approached it, he saw it wasn't a light at all. It was a small grey moth. Its wings fluttered wildly, but it remained hovering in mid-air.
Above it was a big brown moth with spots as big as eyes on its lower wings.
Hisoka bent to study one flickering speck that appeared brighter than the others. It was a glowing firefly.
They were insects, every single one. All were alive, suspended in the thick motionless air, wings fluttering wildly in vain as they tried to escape. No strings or wires held them in place - Hisoka encountered no barrier or force field when he cupped a firefly in his hands.
He walked among them, a visitor in this living entomological exhibit, eyes wide with wonder, stepping around some and bending low to avoid others. He had never encountered anything like it before. They were all held by an invisible power strong enough to hold them fast, yet consummate enough to keep each of them very much alive.
Kagetsu magic. Each insect held by its own shadow.
Hisoka looked around. All he could see were insects surrounding him against the backdrop of darkness. The moon was barely visible as a faint grey disc hanging overhead. He couldn't see the house or even remember where it was - he had lost his sense of direction wandering among the trapped insects.
He looked down at his feet. A fine mist of shadows swirled around his ankles. They did not bind or restrain him in any way. So he was free to do as he wished. The shadows were not interested in him.
But as he watched a tendril of darkness curl around his calf then dissipate, he began to wonder.
Hisoka bent his head and closed his eyes. He threw out his empathic power, searching for Tatsumi's consciousness. When he encountered nothing, he extended his power further than he had ever dared before. He reached through the cloaking shadows, piercing the darkness with his own power. He was ready for the collision of emotions that would follow. Anything was better than this absence of feeling.
His empathy - pure, straight and sharp - would reveal all.
Shadows rippled, making the insects tremble around him. Tendrils of emotion stole into his mind - surprise, irritation. Behind him.
He moved towards it, taking care to avoid the insects in his path. But as he approached, they flew off into the night. The farther he walked, the more insects fluttered away, magically released from their imprisonment. The shadows raced away as well - some finding refuge at his feet and in the creases of his clothes, while others found shelter in the few plants and furnishings in the barren courtyard, lending them shape and definition. Silver moonlight lit the yard once more.
With the shadows in hiding, he could see the rear veranda again. The sliding doors were open wide, revealing Tatsumi sitting on his knees within the entrance, head bowed, hands in his lap. He was dressed in a traditional dark blue yukata decorated with a white checked pattern. The room behind him was awash with shifting light and shadows created by a single flickering candle flame.
Hisoka walked up to him and bowed. "Good evening, Tatsumi-san."
Tatsumi pushed his glasses up his nose, but didn't lift his head. "Good evening, Kurosaki-kun."
"I saw how you controlled the insects. It was amazing."
Tatsumi inclined his head, a simple action which shrouded most of his face in shadow. "Thank you."
"The way you trapped them in your shadows, like a spider with its web...I've never seen such a disciplined display of power before." Hisoka paused, wondering if he sounded too naïve and eager. "You hardly ever wield your powers, so it took me by surprise."
"It's just as well," Tatsumi replied brusquely. His fingers curled a fraction in his lap.
"Why?"
Tatsumi said nothing for several seconds. The shadows thickened around him.
Hisoka reached out with his empathy, and encountered nothing. "Tatsumi-san?"
"Shadows...spider web..." Tatsumi let out a soft grunt of rueful amusement. "The analogy is more accurate than you know."
"It is?" Hisoka leaned forward a little, trying to make out Tatsumi's features. He wanted to step up on the veranda, but it seemed rude to do so without permission.
"Shadows cling to everything. There is nothing so insidious yet possessive as a shadow." He lifted slanted eyes of brilliant blue to meet Hisoka's gaze. "Do you understand?"
A crackling awareness passed between them. Hisoka lowered his gaze, suddenly shy, as a warm lassitude spread through his limbs and into the very marrow of his bones. This teasing reminder of the sensations he'd experienced in the dojo unnerved and excited him. He knew what it meant now. He wanted Tatsumi to touch him again.
But he still couldn't feel Tatsumi's emanations. Empathically, he was alone. So these feelings were his, and no one else's. He flushed at the realisation.
"Tatsumi-san," he murmured. He stepped forward. "I-"
"Look at your wrists." Tatsumi's harsh voice halted him. "Look at your ankles. See for yourself."
Wisps of shadows swirled around his lower legs, around his calf and up to his knee, embracing the hakama he wore. More wisps wound around his wrists and forearm, enveloping the sleeves of his robe. But they didn't restrain him in the slightest as they twisted and danced around his limbs.
Hisoka watched, lips parted in wonder. He couldn't feel their touch, but the way they swept over him, almost playful and teasing - were they greeting him?
"Now do you understand?" Tatsumi swept his hand before him in a quick dismissive motion, and the shadows melted away. "Once you've caught their interest, they never let you go."
"I don't mind." The shadows weren't harming him. What was there to fear? He looked at Tatsumi, chin lifting in defiance. "I'm not afraid of the dark."
"I believe you." Tatsumi's gaze softened a little. "You have always shown such fearless tenacity against impossible odds. How I envied you your indomitable spirit."
"Me? I don't deserve such praise."
"Yes, you do." Tatsumi's tone of voice allowed no room for doubt. "You deserve them, and more." He straightened his shoulders. "I never intended to burden you with the expectations of my guilty conscience. I should have shielded my feelings more effectively on this matter."
"It's all right. I willingly took on the responsibility. I wanted to be useful to the Shoukanka. I needed to prove myself to Tsuzuki, and Chief Konoe, and Watari-san...and you."
"You have nothing to prove to us any more, Kurosaki-kun. Katana or no katana, you are now an irreplaceable member of our division."
"Thank you, Tatsumi-san." Hisoka blinked and bowed his head, humbled beyond measure. To hear Tatsumi speak so well of him with his own ears...it was more than he ever dreamed possible. "I...I don't know what to say."
"Empty vessels make the most noise," Tatsumi replied, his tone warm. "There is nothing shameful in silence."
"Yes, Tatsumi-san." At his feet, the shadows began to shift and lick at his ankles.
"It's getting late, and I have an early start tomorrow." Tatsumi rose to his feet. Shadows enfolded him as he stepped away from the entrance. "You should return home and get a good night's rest."
Home - his sanctuary from the chaotic emotions of others. For the first time, Hisoka saw it in a different light. Isolated. Lonely.
Why did he now yearn for the company of this stern, repressed man before him? Tatsumi didn't have Tsuzuki's friendly and cheerful disposition. More comfortable with the minutiae of the accounts than the complexities of human interaction, he would never admit to needing anyone. Dealing with such a proud person wouldn't be easy at the best of times.
But Hisoka stood his ground. He remembered the maelstrom of sensations and emotions he felt in the dojo - they were Tatsumi's as well as his. They were too strong to ignore. Even his pride, which counselled aloof indifference, couldn't change his mind.
There was no place for pride in the soul of a warrior.
Hisoka knew what he had to do. He didn't want to live a life of regret.
He kept his head lowered. "May I have some tea before I go?"
Tatsumi blinked at such a presumptuous request. "Perhaps another time. Caffeine would be unwise this late at night, Kurosaki-kun."
"Not necessarily, Tatsumi-san." Hisoka lifted his gaze to regard Tatsumi through his overlong bangs. "It may be extremely useful if one has...other activities planned before retiring for the night." He hoped the darkness hid the heated colour suffusing his cheeks. "May I at least come in for a little while?"
"You may not." Curt, cool - the voice of the Shoukanka secretary. "It's best you leave now. Good night." He turned away, not even sparing Hisoka a glance.
Hisoka threw out his empathic powers, searching for even a glimpse of emotion. Still nothing. But he saw the tendrils of shadows curling around his calves, brushing over the hakama. A few threads began to curl around his wrists again.
"I don't want to leave!" He stepped onto the veranda and lifted his wrists, now encircled by diaphanous manacles of thickening shadows. "See? They don't want me to leave either."
Tatsumi swung around. He eyed the shadows for a long moment, his jaw clenched tight. "Traitors," he muttered. He passed his hand before Hisoka, dispersing them all with a single movement.
Without warning, sizzling heat rushed through Hisoka's body, accompanied by a surge of longing so intense it scattered all reason from his mind. It tore through adolescent diffidence and fear to awaken a matching answer within him. His body came to life, his cock stiffening beneath the folds of his hakama.
"There are limits to my restraint." Tatsumi's voice was thick and husky, the words indistinct. "If you value your freedom, leave now." He seized the sliding door.
"No!" Hisoka grabbed it, forcing it open. "It's unhealthy to hold back all the time! You need to have an outlet!"
"An outlet?" Tatsumi repeated harshly, one brow raised. "Is that why you're here?"
Thick shadows leapt out to curl around his wrists and ankles once more, tugging at him like an insistent child eager to play. Surprised, he slipped off his shoes and followed them inside.
Tatsumi hissed in annoyance as he turned away and folded his arms. The movement made the yukata gape open, exposing his broad chest. But with his blue eyes eclipsed by the metallic glint of wire-framed glasses, there was nothing welcoming or hospitable in his demeanour. Even his emanations were absent, wrestled under control yet again. Etiquette was probably the only factor preventing Tatsumi from shoving him out the door.
But the shadows wanted him here. So Hisoka stayed.
"Did Tsuzuki-san or Watari-san put you up to this? To provide me with an 'outlet,' as you so delicately phrase it?"
"They didn't put me up to anything."
"Really?" Tatsumi stepped closer, looming over him. Hisoka had to lift his chin to meet his gaze. "Then why did you come?"
"I wanted to see you. I...I wanted to make sure you were all right."
"As you can see, I am perfectly well. I have no use for your pity." Bleak sarcasm edged his voice as he gestured towards the doorway. "Please leave now."
"I don't pity you!" Hisoka yanked the door shut, enclosing them both in flickering candlelight and restless shadow. He took Tatsumi's hand and lifted it palm-up to his cheek. "If you had my power, I could make you understand how I feel about you." He closed his eyes as he tried to project his feelings, willing Tatsumi to sense them through his touch. "I don't care if you have no use for me. It doesn't matter." He trembled as he felt the fingertips shift over his face, along his brow, against the sensitive skin beneath his jaw. "Don't send me away."
Tatsumi said nothing. His touch was tentative, gentle, as if he held something so delicate it would break if he exerted the slightest pressure. Lightly the pads of his fingers caressed Hisoka's scalp, lingering over the delicate skin behind his ear, ghosting over his cheekbone. His thumb dared to tease the edge of his lower lip, stroking the sensitive flesh again and again until Hisoka tried to catch it with his teeth.
"Reckless fool," Tatsumi muttered. He hooked his thumb beneath Hisoka's chin and lifted his jaw up. "Open your eyes. If you're going to be so impetuous in everything you do, then you should see the consequences of your actions."
Hisoka obeyed, heart pounding, parted lips tingling from Tatsumi's touch. It was impossible to clearly see Tatsumi's features as he bent over him. All he could see was half of his face gilded by candlelight, uncompromising and remote like a statue. The same flickering light reflected from his glasses, obscuring his eyes.
"So noble and self-sacrificing in spite of everything that's happened to you. You were willing to risk your very existence for Tsuzuki, and now you're offering to sacrifice your liberty for me." He lowered his head until they touched forehead to forehead. "I should warn you, Kurosaki-kun, such generosity of spirit will surely be your downfall." Up close, the shadows blocked out the light, revealing Tatsumi's gaze - slitted and glittering with hunger as he searched Hisoka's features.
"I'm not generous or noble or self-sacrificing. I'm here because I want to be." Hisoka tilted his head and leaned up, his fingers sliding along Tatsumi's yukata for support, until their lips touched. He tried to initiate a kiss, longing for a repeat of the kiss in the dojo. His lips were tentative as they slanted over Tatsumi's unmoving mouth.
Tatsumi froze, neither resisting nor inviting. His hand fell away from Hisoka's face.
Hisoka played with Tatsumi's lips, cataloguing the sensations for the first time. Tatsumi's lips were thin and firm, with a subtle hint of salt. Different to the taste of his own flesh. Hisoka used the tip of his tongue to tease them, trying to coax them apart. Their noses bumped as he became bolder, curiosity overcoming caution. The cold frame of the metal-rimmed glasses pressed his cheek. The lens of the glasses began to fog with the steam of his breath.
Tatsumi's mouth clamped shut in a grim line. But he also shuddered, revealing a crack in his wall of self-discipline.
Emboldened, Hisoka stood on tiptoe, pressing himself closer. His hands slid around Tatsumi's neck to play with the fine hairs at his nape.
A low growl left Tatsumi's throat. He seized Hisoka like a rag doll, one arm around his waist, the other clutching the back of his head, almost lifting him off his feet. His mouth was voracious as he punished Hisoka for his playful teasing.
Hisoka pressed closer, dizzy with triumph, his willow-slim frame pliant against Tatsumi's broad torso. Mutual need acknowledged at long last. He eagerly tilted his head to one side as Tatsumi guided him to deepen the kiss, uncaring of the glasses pressing into his cheek and nose. He clasped Tatsumi's face as he probed his emotions again. That incredible moment of psychic union, in which he experienced Tatsumi's sensations as his own...he wanted that too.
Tatsumi shivered and broke free. "Stop. I can't think when you do that."
"I don't care." Hisoka clutched his shoulders so he couldn't escape. "Don't run away from me again. Do you know how much it hurt when you left me in the dojo?" His voice trembled with the memory of the pain. "It felt so good until you snatched it all away. Why?"
"Forgive me." Tatsumi's face was averted in shadow, but he caressed Hisoka's back in slow circles, soothing and reassuring. "I should have realised this would happen. You distracted me so much I forgot the sensitivity of your empathic powers."
"What...what do you mean?" Hisoka reached up to touch Tatsumi's face, but Tatsumi pushed his hand away.
"Tell me, Kurosaki-kun, how do you know that the emotions you're acting on are yours alone?"
"I feel them, therefore they are mine. It's as simple as that."
Tatsumi stared at Hisoka as if he were mad. "How do you know I'm not flooding your mind with my feelings and desires, influencing you to come here? How can you be sure that I'm not manipulating you now, making you into the puppet you despise?"
"No! You're not like that!" Hisoka shook his head and clung tighter to the yukata, almost pulling it open. "What I said before - I spoke in anger. I was thinking about my behaviour, not yours."
"But you spoke truth. As an empath, you take on the emotions of others, sometimes against your will. The pain you felt in the dojo, your eagerness to touch me now - they are merely the echoes of my feelings inside your mind."
"Is that why you're blocking your feelings from me?" Anger stirred inside him. "Is that why you're being so...so proud...so arrogant?"
"Arrogant?" Tatsumi blinked down at him.
"Yes! How dare you censor your emotions in front of me! How can I ever understand you if you're always hiding yourself? You may as well plug my ears and shield my eyes, for my empathy is just as important to me!" His voice shook with the force of his feelings. "I've been an empath all my life. You think my mind can be manipulated so easily? It knows how to shut down when faced with strong emotions. But with you, it's different. Your emotions awakened something inside me. It's not an echo - these are my own feelings responding to yours. So I don't care if they weren't mine to start with - because they are mine now." He reached out, his fingers sliding over Tatsumi's chest, sweeping across the broad swell of pectoral muscles with deliberate intent - enjoying their satin smoothness as he probed for emanations. A tendril of desire stole into his mind.
Tatsumi grasped his wrists, his grip brutal, eyes glittering like a snake. "Get out, Kurosaki-kun."
Equal parts anger and desire tumbled through him - a stormy sea of chaotic violence. Hisoka felt it resonate inside him, gathering his courage, building his determination. He almost wanted to laugh as its energy carried him along, sweeping aside fear and uncertainty.
"Make me, Tatsumi-san." Hisoka surged forward, forcing himself into the circle of Tatsumi's arms. He bent his head to press kisses along the centre of his chest.
Tatsumi trembled. He released Hisoka's wrists to grasp his head...but his fingers seemed to tangle in the soft strands, unable to find purchase. Instead they pressed him closer, caressing his scalp, urging him on.
Hisoka was all too eager to do so. He pulled at the sash, his hands restless as they moulded the contours and planes of lean muscles to bone. His lips drifted up to trace the graceful line of a collarbone, the hollow of a shoulder, tasting and enjoying everything he found. Excitement twisted within him, fuelling his efforts - a quicksilver flash that soothed the edge off his anger, and flared his desire into a conflagration.
"Tatsumi-san..." Hisoka pulled the yukata off one shoulder, revealing the broad bulk of Tatsumi's shoulder. He knew he would never develop such a powerful musculature, but he felt no envy - only a wondering admiration at such masculine beauty. Impatiently he pulled the material off the other shoulder too. His fingers fumbled over the sash as he tried to loosen it. Images assailed his mind, vague and dreamlike, of bodies twisting together in the darkness...
"Damn you." Tatsumi shook his head, as if trying to wake himself from a dream. But he was already pulling Hisoka close, lifting his face to kiss him again. His lips were demanding, teasing Hisoka with their drugging, insistent wet caresses over his tongue, against the roof of his mouth, setting him afire.
Hisoka moaned, everything else forgotten. The images melted away along with the buffeting emotions. The heated immediacy of Tatsumi's touch bewitched him as effectively as any spell - all that was left were these sensations, and this man, and the sweet languor invading every muscle of his body.
The shadows closed in around them. They pulled buttons free with invisible fingers. The obi belt fell away, the complicated knot collapsing in on itself; the hakama slid off and the gi robe fell away without any conscious movement by either of them. Hisoka didn't have to facilitate his own disrobing, his limbs were gently manipulated by the inhuman light-fingered caress of shadows. Vaguely he was aware of Tatsumi's robe being pulled free too, leaving them both nude, lit only by candlelight.
It was just as well, for Hisoka's entire world had narrowed to Tatsumi's insatiable mouth. He would release Hisoka for brief seconds before claiming him again in another kiss.
"I warned you, didn't I?" he whispered. "The shadows are animated by my feelings. They are willing servants to my whims. They act on my desires, on the urges I would rather keep hidden." His large hands stroked down the curvature of his spine, past narrow hips, to massage Hisoka's lean buttocks. "They are bewitched by you, Kurosaki-kun."
Hisoka quivered like a withered leaf tossed aloft in a breeze. "They...they are?" His hands clutched broad shoulders for support, his nails leaving small indentations into firm flesh.
"Yes. They've been watching you in my place, my little emissaries. Waiting for you to notice them." Tatsumi bent his head to nibble a narrow shoulder. "Now that you're here, they will never let you go. Is this what you want?"
Hisoka couldn't answer. His insides twisted with desire, fuelled by the heat of Tatsumi's mouth and the possessive grasp of his hands. He arched closer, shamelessly rubbing his body against the heated bulk of Tatsumi's frame, craving the contact of skin against skin. He reached out with his fingers, sliding them along the long column of his throat, striving to explore Tatsumi's mind with the same desperate greed.
Tatsumi nipped at his shoulder. "Don't do that. Focus on yourself."
Hisoka ignored him, eyes glazing over as conflicting sensations inundated him. He could feel the firmness of his own ass, taste his shoulder and throat...
Tatsumi growled. He pushed away Hisoka's hips to put a little distance between them, then wrapped his fingers around Hisoka's cock. His hand began to slam up and down along its length, while his thumb stroked the delicate head in circles.
Hisoka cried out, a thick choked sound of helpless pleasure. Tatsumi's sensations vanished, now replaced by the immediacy of the aching throb in his groin. Ashamed of the sounds he made, he bit his lip so hard he drew blood from his lower lip.
"There," Tatsumi murmured, eyes glowing as he supported Hisoka with a hand around his waist, his other hand unwavering as it pumped his cock. "This pleasure is yours, and yours alone. Focus on it. Give it voice and let me hear it."
"Tatsumi-san..." His legs were like jelly; only his grip around Tatsumi's neck kept him upright. "This...it's too much..."
"Trust your body, Kurosaki-kun. Let it decide how much it will take." Gently Tatsumi guided Hisoka around so that he lay against Tatsumi's chest, chestnut hair brushing his jaw and throat. With one capable hand, Tatsumi worked in ceaseless motion over the shaft, making it harden and swell, teasing the head that peeked out through the cowl of foreskin with his thumb. His other arm was slung over Hisoka's heaving chest, preventing his escape.
Hisoka trembled against him, eyelids heavy, perspiration breaking out over his forehead. The metallic taste of blood lingered on his tongue, but his lip was healing thanks to his Shinigami powers. He watched Tatsumi's hand, the flexing and extending of his forearm muscles as he worked with metronomic precision. He felt the ripples of shimmering pleasure spreading from his groin to encompass his entire being. The sight and sensations fed on each other, hypnotising him, driving him mad. He was a puppet once more, this time trapped by erotic sensation, his body held under thrall to a different master.
But this was different. He was here of his own free will in Tatsumi's house, enfolded in his arms and the shadows he commanded. The sensations Tatsumi wrung from his body - pleasure beyond his comprehension - it felt like liberation in servitude. A most intimate and loving servitude.
In a corner of the room, a white futon roll unfurled on the floor, guided by flickering shadows.
"That's it," Tatsumi murmured against his ear. "You're getting used to it now."
"I...I am?" His voice was breathless to his own ears.
Tatsumi chuckled. "You are." He guided him to the futon and pulled him down with him. "You don't need your empathy for this. Your senses tell you more than enough." He pulled off his glasses, revealing wide blue eyes that were heated and animated with passion. "You are so beautiful. Every inch of you...perfect." Suddenly he reached out, his hands possessive and sure as they caressed Hisoka with rough urgency. His mouth pressed biting kisses against his nipples as he moved from one to the other, marking a wet path across his chest.
Hisoka twisted against him, trapped between the futon and the glorious weight of Tatsumi's body. Self-consciousness about the curse marks vanished before Tatsumi's urgent hunger. He felt perfect at that moment, moulded and shaped by strong hands, his nerve endings firing at every caress. He sought to reciprocate as best he could, stroking the long planes of Tatsumi's back with nerveless fingers, thrusting his slick hard cock against Tatsumi's weight - a frenzied plea for his touch.
Tatsumi kissed his sweaty forehead, and obliged once again. "I can't deny you anything. Such is the power you have over me."
"Ahhh...Tatsumi-san..." Hisoka thrust blindly into the tightening tunnel of fingers. "Please..."
"I know." Tatsumi held out one hand, and the shadows complied by bringing a bottle of oil to him.
Uncertainty gripped Hisoka. Memories of Muraki looming over him, using him as he pleased, laughing as he bent him to his will...it sent a wave of nausea through him. The memories clung to him, refusing to leave. He reached up for Tatsumi's face again.
Tatsumi froze. "Kurosaki-kun..."
"Forgive me for doing this," Hisoka whispered. "You aren't him. I know you're nothing like him. But I can't forget--" He pulled Tatsumi close before he could leave. "Please share your feelings with me. I know it annoys you to do this-"
"It never annoyed me." Tatsumi gazed at him for a long moment, thin lips twisting in bitter amusement. "On the contrary, I enjoyed it...too much." He looked away, his expression remote. "I don't want to manipulate you in any way. I want you to be free to feel and act under your own volition."
Hisoka turned his face towards him. "I know. And now I choose to feel what you feel." He probed with his empathy. "Let me experience...everything."
There was nothing at first - an absence of emotion or thought. Tatsumi's kagetsu barriers were impenetrable.
"Very well."
A torrent of emotion flooded Hisoka, taking him by surprise. Shame and desire, pain and fear...a whole kaleidoscope of feelings he had no hope of identifying. He searched wildly through the flood, searching for something recognisable...
Tatsumi kissed him, slowly, sweetly...melting his fear and resistance. Oiled fingers stroked his cock, reawakening desire. His knees were lifted up, strong hands possessive as they caressed his thighs and buttocks, long fingers tracing every contour as if memorising him by touch alone.
Hisoka welcomed every touch. He focused on their purity, and the delicious pleasure they elicited within him. The way Tatsumi touched him, so tender yet fierce, so sure yet hesitant, opened Hisoka's mind to a simple truth. This chaotic mess of turbulent emotions spilling over from Tatsumi's mind into his...
This was love.
Tatsumi seated himself between Hisoka's legs and pressed his mouth against the inside of one thigh. He cast Hisoka a sidelong look from beneath thick lashes as he swirled his tongue along the taut flesh.
Velvet warmth filled Hisoka's mouth, salty-sweet in taste. He flushed and looked away, unable to withstand the fierce blue heat of Tatsumi's gaze. But it was no use, for the flames were already kindling within him. A wispy image filled his mind: himself, naked and exposed, his body flushed, limbs carelessly flung over the futon, cock arrowing up as it gleamed with precome.
"Maybe I am no better than him," Tatsumi murmured. "Before I could claim the moral high ground by virtue of my self-control. But now..." He bared his teeth and bit the flesh he held, making Hisoka gasp. "...I have nothing left."
Hisoka shook his head in denial at the words, and in anticipation of what Tatsumi would do next.
Tatsumi poured oil on his fingers. "Like the shadows under my command, when I take hold I never let go." He slid them within the cleft to enter Hisoka in one smooth stroke.
Hisoka arched off the futon, eyes scrunched shut. Pain and shock galvanised his body.
Tatsumi held his hips, murmuring soothing words, yet watching him with a hawk-like intensity. His fingers slid in again and again, insistent, relentless as it pressed against delicate nerve endings, setting off sparks of pleasure that made Hisoka pant and tremble.
Lust coiled into Hisoka's mind, a sinuous black snake whispering promises of more to come. Be patient, it counselled. Wait.
As Hisoka found himself rocking in time to Tatsumi's strokes, sharp bolts of pleasure surging between his cock and newly-sensitised prostate, he could do little else. His fingers clutched the bedding as he tried to find something solid amidst the sensations and emotions buffeting him back and forth.
Tatsumi suddenly left him, making him moan and twitch at the absence. "I was jealous of you when you first came to the Shoukanka because you succeeded with Tsuzuki where I failed. And then I was jealous of Tsuzuki because he had you by his side, loyal and steadfast and brave." He pried Hisoka's hands from the futon then placed them on his shoulders. "Such terrible feelings...are best hidden away."
Hisoka could feel it too, a sickening twist within his chest - an oddly familiar sensation. "I felt the same way too," he murmured. He caressed the shoulders he held, a gesture of comfort. "When I saw you with Tsuzuki, sometimes I felt like leaving the room so you could both be alone. It was so obvious you still cared about him."
"I do...but not in the way you mean." He lifted Hisoka's hips, guiding his legs up and around his waist. As he loomed over Hisoka in the darkness, his entire face was cast in shadow. "I care for Tsuzuki...but I need you." Tatsumi pressed close, the snub head of his unyielding cock sliding against his cleft. "Remember that."
Lust danced around him in ever tightening coils, sinuous and graceful, little tongue darting out for a taste. Yes, it hissed. It reared back, fangs exposed, ready to strike.
One single thrust, and that was it.
Hisoka cried out, his hoarse groan echoing in the room. Tatsumi stretched him, filling him up, flooding his overwrought nerve endings with such white-hot sensation that he came on the spot. It blinded his empathy, incinerating all emotion and thought. All he could do was quiver in the aftermath, while he clutched Tatsumi close like a lifeline.
When he opened his eyes, he found Tatsumi stroking his face, blue eyes wide as saucers.
"Kurosaki-kun...it's been so long for me. Forgive my haste."
"There's nothing...to forgive." Hisoka was still gasping, trying to catch his breath. His limbs felt deliciously lethargic, heavy, free of tension. "It felt...amazing."
"Did it?" Humour lightened his voice as he kissed Hisoka's forehead. "I thought we were only beginning." He began to rock his hips.
Hisoka flushed. Tatsumi was still inside him, his cock as hard as ever. Filling him up, rubbing against his prostate, sending jolts of sharp pleasure to his reawakening erection.
"The advantages of having a youthful body," Tatsumi murmured with sardonic amusement, lips against his throat. "We should make use of your special abilities."
Hisoka let out a soft moan as Tatsumi picked up the pace. With his body relaxed from orgasm, he was better able to accommodate Tatsumi's bulk. He yielded willingly as it slid deeper inside him, and found himself clinging as it slid out, only to repeat the same hypnotic pattern again and again. Lust and pleasure spiralled within him, urging him to keep up with the inexorable pace. How could he resist? He clung to Tatsumi's shoulders, his entire body heated and flushed with renewed exertion as he obeyed its irresistible command.
Tatsumi's hands were everywhere - gripping one leg to open him up, cupping his buttock, caressing his bony hip. He buried his face against the curve of Hisoka's shoulder with the humility of a sinner seeking redemption, but there was nothing humble about the teeth marks he left against the smooth flesh. The movement of his hips continued without rest, a steady fucking that threatened to tear Hisoka's world apart with its bursts of brutal sweetness inside him.
Demanding, possessive...just as he promised.
Hisoka was so overwhelmed that exploring Tatsumi's mind was beyond him. All he could do was cling to his shoulders, wind his legs around narrow hips, and rock in matching counterpoint. He had already come once...that was more than enough. Surely it wasn't possible to come so soon a second time.
Was it?
A few minutes later, shuddering in the grip of almost unbearable ecstasy, Hisoka discovered he was wrong in the best way possible. Exhausted and satiated, he fell into a deep sleep, nestled against Tatsumi's chest.
By the light of the flickering flame, Tatsumi examined Hisoka's torso. He squinted at the velvet-smooth skin, searching it for any flaw with his myopic eyes. He gave the arms - long and gangly with a coltish grace - the same close attention.
Unblemished skin - apart from the marks left by his own enthusiastic lovemaking. There were no vermillion lines, no ugly scars. None that he could see, anyway. Such was the fate of a kagetsu master - so accustomed to the dark, he would never possess the clarity of vision of one who worked with light.
Tsuzuki described the curse marks to him that afternoon. A little after working hours were officially over, he had abruptly entered his office without permission. He had been serious, his voice low and intense, nothing like the puppy who begged for cakes and holiday trips.
Tatsumi had listened, filled with simmering anger at Muraki - and at himself for his own insensitivity - as well as growing embarrassment.
"Tsuzuki-san, why are you telling me this?"
"Because sometimes you forget how vulnerable he is. He's stronger than he looks...but not as strong as he thinks he is. He still has many issues he won't discuss with me, but I know the curse markings still haunt him. Maybe you can help him there, like you have with his swordsmanship." Then he had smiled and winked. "And maybe he can show you how to embrace your emotions again - if you let him."
Tatsumi sighed. Meddling was one of Tsuzuki's many annoying habits, but this time he couldn't complain about the outcome.
He studied Hisoka's face. With thick dark lashes against his cheeks, and chestnut hair tumbling over the sheets, he looked so peaceful and at ease. Even his lips, normally drawn in a frown when awake, were tilted upwards in the most infinitesimal of smiles.
From the beginning, Tatsumi had been drawn to Hisoka's spirit. Even though he could appreciate beauty as much as the next man, he didn't judge people by appearance alone. Marked or unmarked - Tatsumi knew it wouldn't alter his feelings.
But if the shame of bearing the curse, even a hidden one, could cause Hisoka so much pain...
Tatsumi held his outstretched hand above Hisoka's chest, then drew it up into a fist. Shadows raced towards him to form a swirling ball beneath his fingers. He looked down at Hisoka's bare flesh again, eyes narrowed to slits.
He could not see anything. And from now on, no one else would see anything either.
He opened his fist. The shadows fell over Hisoka's chest, spreading over his torso and around to his back, others running down his arms. They curled and twisted over his skin like gauzy dark ribbons, caressing his flesh, cocooning him in its embrace.
"Look after him," he whispered. "Never let him go."
A pucker formed between Hisoka's brows. He began to rub his chest, dissipating the shadows, then opened his eyes as he realised he was exposed. "Tatsumi-san...what are you doing?" He looked down at himself, immediately self-conscious about the curse marks - a gesture that made Tatsumi's heart ache.
"Admiring you, Kurosaki-kun." He lay back against the futon and gathered Hisoka close. "Go to sleep."
At dawn they made love one more time, bathed in light from the morning sun as its rays streamed through a nearby window. Hisoka enjoyed the chance to feast on Tatsumi's body with his eyes, his gaze wide and wondering as he traced long lines, sharp angles, and flat planes with his fingers. He took care not to intrude on Tatsumi's mind with his empathic powers. Instead he used his senses - listening to Tatsumi's voice as he growled his name, watching the blue eyes gleam with amusement and pleasure as they roamed over him...and the incredible sensations Tatsumi evoked from his body, both within and without.
Hisoka could hardly believe the evidence of his senses. He had to be in the grip of a wonderful dream. Such happiness wasn't meant for people like him. But to be permitted to share such intimacy with Tatsumi...it was more than Hisoka ever hoped to experience. So he remained silent as he lay against Tatsumi's chest, bound together by sweat and semen and the sweet exhaustion of sexual exertion. He knew he had no reason to complain.
Later, Hisoka had taken care to remain neutral and polite, and Tatsumi had done the same. After accepting a cup of tea, he had dressed and made his way back to his house to shower and prepare for work. The mundanity of his daily routine only served to convince him of how fantastic last night's - and this morning's - events had been.
The workday was much like any other. He worked with Tsuzuki on reports in the morning. Tsuzuki didn't ask about Tatsumi, for which Hisoka was grateful. He knew he wouldn't be able to hide the flush of embarrassed pleasure at the mention of Tatsumi's name.
As he practised his iaido kata in the afternoon, Hisoka thought about his battle with Tatsumi's shadow servant. It had been so frustrating to deal with such an elusive and tricky opponent...but perhaps such a challenge was exactly what he needed. It was through such humbling experiences that one was moulded into a warrior. Maybe he could persuade Tatsumi to purchase another katana for his servant to use. Hisoka knew he was pushing his luck, but he was willing to try. He felt unusually optimistic about his chances.
In the evening, he locked up the dojo and returned home. There was no reason for him to return to the Shoukanka. Tatsumi had mentioned something about meeting with JuOhCho accountants that evening - Hisoka had interpreted it as a suggestion not to visit him that night. As for other nights, Hisoka didn't dare ask. He didn't want to appear presumptuous or rude a second time - his intrusion into Tatsumi's home last night was already a shocking breach of etiquette.
If Tatsumi wanted to see him, he would invite him.
In the meantime, he would wait. He still had his memories. No one could take them away from him.
And if Tatsumi never invited him after a week or so, Hisoka decided he would pay him another evening visit - this time brandishing his katana.
With that reassuring plan in mind, he spent the night reading in bed.
A few hours later, soft knocking awoke him from a light doze. The book was lying on his chest, the bedside lamp still on. Rubbing bleary eyes with the back of one hand, Hisoka stumbled to his feet to open the door.
Dressed in his tan business suit, tie loosened and collar button undone, Tatsumi looked more discomfited than pleased by Hisoka's rumpled appearance.
"Tatsumi-san!"
"Kurosaki-kun, forgive me for waking you," he said brusquely. He half-turned, as if preparing to leave. "I should have known you would be asleep at such a late hour."
"I...I don't mind." Hisoka blinked and rubbed his eyes again. Was he dreaming?
Then he noticed Tatsumi's white-knuckled grip on his briefcase. In his other hand, he held a little ornate canister of tea.
Hisoka didn't waste time with words of greeting, for his joy could never be conveyed in a medium as inadequate as human speech. He pulled Tatsumi inside and hauled him down for a kiss.
Tatsumi's fervent response was answer enough.
Transit umbra, lux permanet - Shadow passes, light remains