His house looked different in the cold gray light before sunrise.

Everything was just as he left it; a half glass of water on the counter, a stale piece of toast peeking out of the top of the toaster. He smiled faintly to himself, remembering how he had run out of his house that morning, a lifetime ago it seemed, forgetting his breakfast in the excitement of going to Gensoukai.

"This place is pathetic." It was as though he could feel the words come out even before they were spoken. "You deserve better than this." Kurikara appeared, melting into existence like a strange dream. He looked around disdainfully, rich embroidered robes glowing with color, as though lit from an internal source. "It's dirty and small and..."

"And it's mine." His own voice sounded hollow, thin and forced.

"But you deserve a palace!"

"I think you...you've confused me with yourself." Hisoka said, remembering the ruined palace in the wasteland, scoured by a thousand, thousand centuries of wind and sand.

"Fine. Then I deserve a palace. And because you're a part of me now, you should too."

"Maybe I am a part of you. And maybe you think you can control me-" Hisoka ran his hands over the back of his kitchen chair, tracing his fingers along the straight, smooth grain of the wood.

"I can control you," Kurikara interrupted. "I can twist you up in ways that you couldn't even begin to understand…"

"I guess you've been right up until now. You sort of have been running the show." Hisoka looked up at him. "All this time, even when I respected Tsuzuki for the things he could do that were amazing, I could never understand how he could be powerful enough to have so many Shikigami. I mean…he is sort of a screw-up."

"And now you've surpassed him." Kurikara's lips twisted into a sneer. "I'm more powerful than any of his miserable weaklings."

"Actually." Hisoka met Kurikara's eyes, met his own bright green eye. "Now that I've had you for a few days, I think I have a lot more respect for Tsuzuki and what he does. And I won't give into you anymore. You might have my eye, but I'm not you and you're not me. You just don't understand that quite yet. I guess you're getting used to this just like I am."

Kurikara's eyes burned with in inner fire, dark and empty. "I know who I am," he hissed, and the sound felt as though it was going through Hisoka's bones, making the very marrow quiver.

Nervous despite himself, Hisoka nearly giggled. "You...you can't intimidate me. Because..."

"Because?" And Hisoka knew that the shikigami's next move was to show him just exactly how intimidating he could be. And when he felt how clear Kurkikara's thoughts were to him, he smiled brightly.

"What's so funny?"

"You." Hisoka laughed at Kurikara's look of befuddlement. "Remember? How...you took my eye? When we made the pact..."

"Of course. We were just talking about that." Hisoka could feel Kurikara grow suspicious.

"And you know about the two main kinds of shikigami, right? The parasitic and the summoned. But... You've never been anyone's shikigami. So you don't know what kind you would be. No one knows."

"I suppose that's true. So what! I'm still as powerful as I was before. Just watch me." Kurikara smiled, slow and lazy, growing mischief in his eyes. "You haven't clipped my wings, and you can't." Tendrils of dark power surrounded them, growing up from the floorboards beneath their feet.

"Are you so sure?" And Hisoka raised his hands in a motion of negation, and without meaning to, Kurikara's hand mirrored him and the magic disappeared.

"What...what did you do?!" Kurikara's voice went cold with fear.

"Nothing really. I've had time to think. Especially since I remembered how someone said how this situation was completely new to the records, and how usually no one loses a body part to a shikigami. It's usually the other way around. And then when we were out in that far away place, I realized how you were able to copycat me. And how you were able to make me summon you." Hisoka laughed. "Because you have a part of me. But you forgot about the kind of power I have. And how I'm more a part of you…than you are a part of me. So…I'm actually your parasitic shinigami!"

"What?" The voice of the serpent again, hissing with fury.

"You're just my reflection right now."

"That's impossible! You're a liar! Just see what I can do-" As quickly as Kurikara's power expanded to fill the room, brightly enough to make the air shimmer, it went away as Hisoka made a gesture.

"Then it's the eye." Kurikara's expression was wild, and he raised a clawed finger to the bright green eye. "If I just take it out…"

"It's a shinigami's eye," Hisoka grinned. "Even if you did…it'd just regenerate. Remember the pact? You set the rules yourself; you can't complain because you didn't think it through."

"You…you brat!"

"That would be me." Hisoka laughed. "Now…try to calm down, all right? I have important things I have to do today, and you're wearing me out."

"This isn't the last you've heard of me! I'll…I'll figure something out! You haven't won! You'll never win!" The shikigami was so indignant that Hisoka could barely stifle his giggles.

"Fine, fine. So why don't you go away and think about it then?" And before Kurikara could protest, Hisoka banished him with a flick of his fingers.

He sat down heavily on a chair. "One down..."

*****

Tatsumi's eyelids creased as sunlight brightened the room.

"Nnn." Half-asleep, he pulled at a nearby shadow to shield his eyes and was surprised when the shadow pulled back.

"Sato-san." He blinked, eyes weary. Sato was leaning against the wall, stripped to the waist and damp with sweat, his hakama lost somewhere. He was still breathing hard, as if from some great physical exertion.

"Good morning." Sato's voice was flat, expressionless. "It was harder than I remember."

"What? What was harder?" Tatsumi took of his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to wake up. He yawned, looking at his watch; it was just barely past six in the morning.

"Finding my way out of your shadow dimension."

"Oh." Tatsumi looked up at him, remembering the night before in a sudden burst. "Oh…!"

"Huh?" Tsuzuki half-sat up. "What's going…on?" The last word was almost lost in a yawn, and before anyone could answer him, he laid back down, curling up in the blankets, falling fast asleep.

Sato frowned. "It took me up until a few minutes ago to get out. I suppose that would mean three or four hours."

"Well..." Tatsumi took a moment to wipe his glasses, buying time as he thought of what to say next. "It was the right thing to do. It was worth it."

"Was it? Then where's the boy?"

"Right here of course…"

It took him a long moment to realize Hisoka was missing. Panicked, Tatsumi leapt to his feet. "Where is he? What did you do to him?!"

At the noise, Tsuzuki fell out of bed in a tangle of blankets. "What? I'm ready! I'm awake! I…Hisoka!" The two stared blearily at the empty space on the bed, as if Hisoka would somehow spontaneously appear.

Sato straightened himself stiffly. "I don't like how you think it's always my fault."

"You're the one who's a Shinigami hunter." Tatsumi glared at him over his glasses. "Now tell me where he is."

"Back in Meifu," Sato was calm, almost frustratingly so. "Of his own will, as far as I can tell. I had nothing to do with it."

"Fine. Then you're coming with us. Tsuzuki, get your shoes on, we're going." Tatsumi snapped, straightening his tie and running his hand through his hair, hoping it hadn't mussed when he fell asleep in the overstuffed hotel chaise.

"I would appreciate transportation." Sato sounded almost sarcastic, and it surprised Tatsumi, enough so to really take notice of Sato.

He looked gaunt. He was always on the thin side, but it was as if something had eaten up all the reserves in his body.

The shadow dimension. Tatsumi felt a flutter of guilt dance in the pit of his stomach. "Sato, I-"

"Don't apologize." Sato looked away, and for a moment, Tatsumi was surprised at how perceptive Sato could be sometimes. "Let's go." He caught Tatsumi's wrist in a firm grip, long fingers pale against the smooth fabric of Tatsumi's brown suit.

Tatsumi lightly covered Sato's hand with his free hand. "We'll talk about this later, I promise."

Sato said nothing, but looked at Tatsumi thoughtfully from the corner of his eye.

"I'm ready!" Tsuzuki stumbled over, shoes in his hand and socks half-pulled up his ankles. "Let's go."

Tatsumi reached out for Tsuzuki, and the three of them disappeared down into a gathered vortex of shadows, leaving nothing but a few scattered cans of miscellaneous soft drinks behind.

*****

Hisoka washed and dressed carefully. There was nothing he could do about the dark shadows under his eyes, the hollowed cheeks from a few days of hunger. That he would take care of later, if there was a later.

He brushed his teeth, glad for the obscuring mist of condensation from the shower that obscured his reflection from himself.

He broke the old toast into crumbs for the sparrows outside his window, and made a new slice, with a scraping of jam and butter. The food tasted better than he remembered, whether it was because it seemed like a long time since he had eaten, or that it could be his last meal.

It had been a long time since he had worn the formal Shinigami uniform. The pleats felt stiff; he had never worn it long enough to wear it in. Just for the occasional archery contest. He hadn't even been here long enough to participate in a formal ceremony; the next one would be in two year's time.

Before he left the house, Hisoka untied and retied his obi, because it was a little crooked.

The great hall was empty of its usual officials, but for the immortal guardians at the gate. He thought perhaps it would be closed, but then remembered how he had heard Enma's court never closed.

After all, the dead didn't need sleep.

Getting an audience was easy. Apparently, just his face was enough to get him quickly through the queue. So they were expecting him. It gave him a sickening twitch of fear.

Hisoka squared his shoulders. Though his stomach curdled cold with fear at the thought of facing Enma alone, it was nothing that he could depend on anyone else to do. Tsuzuki would gladly take the blame. Tatsumi would gladly give excuses. But there was only one right thing to do and that was to confront it.

After all…even Muraki managed to face his responsibilities.

The thought twisted the corner of Hisoka's mouth, as if biting down on a bitter fruit.

He stepped forward, woven sandals silent on the slick marble floor.

*****

There were a few frantic minutes while Tatsumi moved them around from place to place, trying to find Hisoka.

"Where could he be?!" Tatsumi growled to himself, after the second round of going between Hisoka's apartment and the department office.

"Did you want me to find him?" Sato's pale eyes glinted with amusement.

"No. I…I can do it myself." Tatsumi nearly blushed, embarrassed to remember that Hisoka could be tracked easily by his shadow.

There, the marker on Hisoka's shadow was sitting still, in the gardens just beyond the administration building.

"My goodness….I must be tired." Tatsumi murmured to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose above his glasses. He and Tsuzuki began walking past the rows of blooming sakura. Sato followed along, several feet behind them. "Not to remember such a basic thing…"

"It's been a long few days." Tsuzuki looked as though he were going to fall over from the nervous strain and fatigue.

They nearly walked past Hisoka without recognizing him, dressed in the formal black of the court.

"Hisoka!" Tsuzuki grabbed him by the shoulders, dragging him up into an embrace. "You're all right!"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Cut that out, you're embarrassing me." Hisoka sounded weary, and there was none of the usual vehemence in his voice. "I'm fine."

"What happened? Are you meeting with Enma soon? Is that why you're dressed like that? Or…" Tatsumi choked off the words, afraid of giving voice to his fears.

"Oh, Enma? I already met with him."

"Really? I didn't think he'd see anyone other than Konoe…" Tsuzuki looked confused.

"No, it was all right. They let me in right away. Apparently I'm the first Shinigami in a hundred years who ran away. And the first one to come back without a fight in twice that time. So…I sort of got a pardon."

"Sort of?" Tatsumi's mouth twisted in worry. "What do you mean?"

"Well. He said I can't work in block two anymore."

"…What?!" Tsuzuki's eyes widened with anguish. "You…you can't! I…Why…!"

"No wait, listen." Hisoka caught Tsuzuki's hand, squeezing them tightly. "He said I couldn't work there anymore, because he was making me head of block seven."

"Seven…?" Tsuzuki's eyes looked glassy.

"The worst block." Tatsumi pushed his glasses up. "It's the punishment block. Where the worst of the demon infestations happen. I don't think it's ever gone for more than three years without a major incident. And that's as long as we've had records."

"Yeah. Um. It's not going to be easy. So he said he wanted me to pick a senior Shinigami to be my guide. Preferably someone unattached. He gave me some names…You came up." Hisoka looked to Tatsumi and Sato. "And some retired Shinigami that he thought might take another chance at active duty. But, but I told him I didn't want anyone else. I wanted you."

"Me?" Tsuzuki looked bewildered. "Don't you mean him?" He pointed at Tatsumi.

"No, idiot. You." A tiny smile crossed Hisoka's lips. "You don't think I'd let you go anywhere by yourself? You can't even go to the corner market without getting hurt."

"Hey, that happened only once." Tsuzuki laughed a little.

"But…only if you want to. It's going to be a lot of hard work. And…we might see some ugly things." Hisoka ventured hesitantly. "So it's really up to you…"

"Of course, stupid. You don't think I'd let you go demon hunting without me watching your back? Remember that time you got drunk on half a glass of wine?"

"Hey! That was your fault!" Hisoka laughed, visibly relaxing. "And…don't think I won't get back at you for that."

They smiled at each other, conspiratorially.

"So that's it?" Tatsumi raised an eyebrow.

"Um, yeah, we're reporting for duty at the beginning of next week." Hisoka stared at his sandals and curled his toes. The morning breeze cut through the thin tabi, and his feet were cold. But inside he felt warm, full of life.

"I wonder who'll take over block two." Tatsumi murmured to himself. "Actually, I do have a question, Kurosaki-kun. Did you get to see what Enma looked like?"

"No. He was behind this big embroidered screen. I couldn't even see his shadow. But…" Hisoka tapped his chin thoughtfully. "He sort of sounded like Kurikara. Um, that is. Like a dragon. Weird hissing voice."

"I've heard that rumor before too." Tsuzuki said cautiously, glancing at Tatsumi. "Someone back in the day told me that the very old records used to call him the Great Dragon."

"I suppose we'll never know the truth of it." Tatsumi frowned, uncomfortable about speaking about it.

"There's an even older story than that." Sato spoke finally.

"Sato?" Tatsumi glanced back at him. "I didn't know you knew any stories about Enma."

"Only one. I heard it from an old Shinigami. When I was an initiate," Sato said, using the archaic term for a probationary Shinigami.

"What is it?"

Their voices lowered. Around them even the birds seemed to hush until there was nothing but the sound of wind rustling through the trees.

"He said there was a story that was passed down from a time before memory, that Enma was the oldest Shinigami. One whose parasitic Shikigami merged completely with him. Usually…when that starts to happen, they're sent off. Before they can cause harm." Sato frowned at an unpleasant memory. "But Enma is different. Sacred. He used some other words I don't remember."

"Huh." Hisoka leaned forward slightly, bending the grass beneath his toes, listening to the others discuss the truth of Sato's story. He thought of his eye, gleaming in Kurikara's face. It sent a shiver through him, and for a moment he wondered if someday he would be sent away if they found out how he controlled Kurikara…

"Are you all right, Hisoka?" Tsuzuki rested his hand lightly on his shoulder.

"Oh, nothing. Just tired." Hisoka smiled up at them hollowly.

*****

Shinigami, Shikigami. Parasitic, summoned. The words looped over and over in Hisoka's mind as he walked home, hands lost in the folds of his haori.

He shook his head. There was nothing he could do about it exhausted and hungry and cold. So instead he focused on walking home. Every step a step closer to a warm bed and long-needed rest.

It had rained in Meifu overnight, and morning had brought stiff chill breezes that made the ends of Hisoka's hair flutter, and made the heavy raw silk of his clothes feel too thin.

He walked carefully, bypassing broad puddles that reflected the sky and the flowery branches above, and for a moment he felt as though he was walking on clouds.

Just as he turned toward his apartment, he caught his reflection in a still pool of water.

It was so familiar to him that he paused to look back.

His face again. Mismatched green eyes. A muss of blond hair stirred by breeze and brightened by sun.

Something deep inside of him seemed to loosen, to melt away. A burden that he hadn't even consciously felt seemed to lift from him. Suddenly he realized he never looked like Muraki, could never be anything like him. The hatred he felt for Muraki would probably never leave him, not until after the final death. But the weight of it, the ache of it seemed to lighten.

"What are you so happy about?" His reflection asked, sullenly. Kurikara stared back at him with arms crossed over his chest, a pout on his lips.

"Nothing important," Hisoka replied, and he realized it was true.

Thanks to RubyD and Greekhoop for prereading and proofreading. Special thanks to RubyD (again!) because she's been my most helpful and most supportive friend through my YnM writing career. Without her invaluable insights, this fic (and the First Death) would have been a lot worse. This one's for you!

So how did Sato learn about the differences between the different types of Shikigami? One story from a long time ago, before he found out about his shadow powers …

"He's not suited to control a shikigami. He'll fail." A woman Shinigami, her hand cocked on her hip. She scowled, half-blinded by the burning sun.

"Well, I agree with you that he may not be suited, but I have faith in him. He seems sharp enough, in his own way." If one were to recognize him, it would be as a teacher of young Shinigami. One perhaps resigned to mentoring.

"He's a fool. He'll never manage." Mismatched eyes narrowed and the dark man folded his arms. "I've tested a thousand Shinigami. If he had any useful predisposition, we would have known it by now."

"Look, even an idiot could take down this shikigami. It doesn't even have feet!"

Sato edged closer and closer to the shikigami in the wild desert expanse of Gensoukai. The winds blew hot, dust gritted in the corners of his eyes. He could taste it; it made him cough.

"Sato! Use the sword!" The mentor shouted words of encouragement. "Come on, just like I told you. Draw it out and slice, slice! Upper cut! Upper cut!"

Sato edged closer and sat down before the shikigami.

"Oh, he's going to blow it. Just watch," the woman scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"No, hold up. I've never seen this tactic before…" The man with mismatched eyes raised an eyebrow. "Seems rather direct."

"You mean very stupid. I'm putting up a barrier ofuda." It crackled to life around the three Shinigami, pulsing slightly in the bright desert sun.

Curious, Sato reached out and touched the strange shikigami lightly, bending a spine up and down.

"Howd-eeee! That tickles!"

Sato touched another spine, putting a little pressure on it.

"N-no, wait! Stop! Bad touch! 10,000 Needle Attack!"

And what happens when Kurikara discovers some other things that he has in common with Hisoka…?

"Mommy!"

"No. You'll spoil your supper if you have candy right now. Come on."

Mommmmmmyyyy!!!"

Kurikara glared out from the reflection of a fountain. Will that damn Shinigami never move away from these miserable mortals? He fumed, something approaching a headache boiling behind his eyes.

"Mommy! I want it!" Grating, grating. Frustration boiled over as the child began to cry.

"WILL YOU SHUT UP BEFORE I EAT YOU?!" The voice of the dragon boomed through the park, sending flocks of pigeons scattering. Fear spiked and panicked, and Kurikara curled up into a little ball, covering his head…

"Ugh." Kurikara flopped down on a stone bench, hiding out from the world in Hisoka's memories. "This is miserable; I never thought a shikigami could suffer so much. Futsuno Mitama!"

"Yes, RyuOh-sama?" The sentient sword appeared before him. "What does my master require of me?"

"Tell me, Futsuno. Why is everything feel so, so sharp and clear? It's…it's as though the weight of the world follows me wherever I go. When people are happy, I'm cheerful. And when people are sad, I'm miserable! Like today for example."

"Today, RyuOh-sama?"

"My miserable Shinigami were eating ice cream. And I was pleased. But…then came a human child, throwing the worst tantrum. I would have slapped it stupid had I been its master, or perhaps eaten it with a side of rice. Yet…I only felt. Ill-at-ease. Wronged. It was foolish, a disgusting feeling. Threats only made it worse."

"Worse, RyuOh-sama?" The sword shifted uncomfortably. It wasn't like Kurikara to expose his feelings so rudely. But of course, things had changed since the Shinigami took charge…

"Worse. I felt." Kurikara made a face. "I felt pain. And then guilt and shame."

"Perhaps RyuOh-sama, it is spillover from your Shinigami's feelings? After all, he is an empath." The sword tried to slip away, before Kurikara would want to talk more about his feelings.

"Empath. Yes, of course. It must be a manifestation of his powers within me. Why didn't I think of that? And to think, I took this accursed eye…!" Kurikara moaned. "I was so stupid…! Why didn't you stop me? What did I do to deserve this?"

"Uh, RyuOh-sama?" The sword switched tactics. "Look, what I have here for you, a pint of Haagen-Dazs! It's cookie dough. And oh my, this month's Cosmo…"

"Ah yes, Cosmo." Kurikara settled down, the fires in his eyes dimming to a calm seethe. He took the magazine in his hands. "'How to tell if your man is a rapist.' Ah yes. This will do for now. Thank you, Futsuno Mitama."

"Yes, RyuOh-sama." And the sword slinked off as Kurikara dug into the ice cream with a spoon.

Finally, one last look at the kagetsukai…

They ate in silence, the sliding paper doors open to the chill night air. The house was empty and echoing, the way Tatsumi remembered. For a house that should have been as immortal as its owner, it seemed as though it was slowly decaying, falling into disrepair.

Dust stirred as a breeze blew in, making Tatsumi cough. He stifled it against the back of his wrist. He frowned, wondering how much it would cost to hire someone to clean the old rambling building.

Sato stirred the coals at the hearth with a stick, watching the last of the fish bones turn to ash. He draped an arm carelessly over his bent knee. "Thank you for bringing dinner."

"No, I owe you." Guilt twisted in his stomach, and Tatsumi's shoulders sagged a little. "I shouldn't have left you in there for so long."

Sato shrugged. "You did what you had to do."

"Are you mad at me?" Tatsumi glanced over at him, uncomfortable.

"I was. But…" Sato gestured absently. "If I kept the grudge, we couldn't be friends."

"How true." Tatsumi wondered at the simplicity. "But, don't you feel-"

"Feel what?"

"Well…I don't know. It seems to me as though you're dropping this awfully fast." Had their roles been reversed, Tatsumi thought, he would have been furious. It seemed unlike anyone to act this way. But then again, Sato had never been just anyone.

"Tatsumi." Sato turned to look at him, drawing his feet beneath him to sit formally, on his heels. "You did what you believed in. Right or wrong…you believed in it."

"Yes. So what of it?" It had seemed as natural as breathing to go after Kurosaki-kun. Even if it was against the rules, it was right. And even then…Tatsumi knew he had not really broken any rules, but had only bent them. Just a little bit.

"Perhaps believing is better than doing something just because you're told to do it." Sato rubbed his wrist absently. "Perhaps…following orders isn't always right."

"Perhaps? But it's what we're supposed to do." Tatsumi began seeing the scope of it, and for a moment he felt as though he understood Sato a little better. He tried to imagine if someone else had run, someone who wasn't Kurosaki-kun. Someone he didn't care about, someone who wasn't his friend. And suddenly things started to make sense. After all, Tatsumi himself had always said the rules were there for a reason…

"You weren't wrong. I am a murderer." Sato said softly, interrupting Tatsumi's thoughts. "At first I didn't understand what it meant to die. Not the final death. And then, after..." He stared at his hands. "And then it was just what I was told to do."

"You believe in your duty." Tatsumi sighed.

"I do as I'm told. I don't think of it as duty."

"But. Well, I can't fault you for your loyalty to the Shinigami."

Sato laughed, a short bitter sound. "You mean loyalty to Enma, which is different from loyalty to other Shinigami. The first is fear. The second I've never had much of."

"You've been loyal to me. You didn't try to stop me, even when you could. You could have fought me." The thought sent an uncomfortable twinge of fear through Tatsumi. He had never really fought Sato. Even at best the shadow dimension was little more than a prank, compared to what the shadow powers were capable of.

Sato looked at him, eyes expressionless. "Perhaps. But I wouldn't have won."

Uncomfortably, Tatsumi cleared his throat, pouring them both some tea. It felt strange to him to hear Sato speak of his powers, even after all these years. "Let's talk about something else. Tell me why you think the boy was spared for his powers. I really do believe it's because he did the right thing and took responsibility for his actions."

Sato shook his head. "It's just a matter of power. It's been declining in the Shinigami population for centuries. Even before I woke here. Who remembers the old days?"

"Konoe-kachou, I suppose? And you?" Tatsumi considered the options. The other denizens of Meifu, no matter how long they had been there, were unlikely to speak candidly to any Shinigami.

"Not as much as him. He was here long before I was. Look." Sato pointed.

Fireflies blinked, glowing in the long, overgrown grass of Sato's courtyard. In the distance, frogs called to each other, first a few and then a chorus. A cricket chirped; it sounded from inside the house. The moon rose, filling the room with cold light.

The fire crackled as they sat in silence. Above, the stars and moon turned slowly in the sky.

"What…was it we were talking about?" For a moment, he really had forgotten, before it began creeping back to him in parts and pieces.

"I don't remember." Sato gestured lazily, and a firefly whirled, turning in a long broad circle before flying toward them. He cupped it in his hands, watching the pulse of its glow, bright in the dark well of his hands.

"I don't remember either." Tatsumi smiled, straightening up. He recognized it for what it was; the little fictions and lies they all told each other and themselves to make life in Meifu bearable. He dusted off his trousers. "Good night, Sato."

"Good night." Sato didn't look up as the shadows swallowed Tatsumi.