Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei does not belong to me. The End. (Unfortunately…)
Warnings: I maintain that if you've made it passed the second chapter, you can handle this.
Notes: I'm not making promises anymore. XD This will be written when I can manage it... it seems whenever I give a date, my life makes a liar out of me. So, I will not say anything about the next chapter, and hopefully, that will make it happen sooner.
I'm still without a beta... My email is storm underscore two zero one zero at hotmail dot com. Try cutting that, quickedit. Anyway, put it together in its proper symbol and number form, and it should work. XD Please?
Anyway, here is my next chapter. Please enjoy, and I hope it was worth the disgustingly long wait.
Just how had she been landed with this responsibility? Mariko shivered slightly, picking up her pace as she made her way down the deserted hallway. While the university seemed welcoming enough during the day, the deep evening shadows and flickering exit signs transformed it into some terrifying monster that threatened to swallow her up, never to be seen again. Monsters with hideous faces and razor claws lingered at the back of her mind, taunting her – she needed to cut back on the science fiction novels…
Frowning to herself, the young girl hugged a thick brown book close to her chest – the book that her friend Maki had asked her to deliver. They both worked together in the school's library, doing the odd jobs that the librarian didn't have time for… Cataloguing, reshelving, and, in some cases, delivering.
"Even if this is for Maki, I wish that the school wasn't so creepy at night…" she muttered to herself. She wasn't in the habit of talking to herself, but in this care, it made her feel less alone in the silent corridor.
Though, it would seem that she wasn't quite as alone as she thought – as she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with a wall of white. White which happened to be worn by one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen.
He had flawless skin and silvery blonde hair that hung freely over one side of his face. With his glasses perched on the bridge of his elegant nose and the pristine ivory suit, she thought for a moment that he was one of the professors are the university… Though, she couldn't recall seeing him around…
As she gawked at the stranger, he turned to look at her. Behind the lenses of his glasses, she could only see one eye – the other was hidden behind a thin curtain of hair – but it was far different that anything she'd expected… Heavy lidded and silver, with an almost cat-like look to it. It would almost have been terrifying, had it not been so beautiful…
"Excuse me, young lady," he said, his deep voice making her jump. "Would you happen to know where Doctor Satomi is?"
Blinking stupidly for a moment, as if in awe that this angelic man was actually speaking to her, the young girl quickly shook her head.
"I… err… Well, I'm only a student at an affiliated school…" she stammered, trying to regain her composure. "So…"
The hoarse voice of another man abruptly cut off her rambling.
"Muraki-kun! I'm sorry for making you wait!"
From the other side of the hall, another man loped towards them. He had darker hair flecked with strands of grey and thick stubble on his chin – he looked as though he hadn't shaved in days. There were deep lines etched in his tired face and dark circles under his eyes, and the faint brown of coffee stains marred the front of his wrinkled dress shirt. How could someone as scruffy as Doctor Satomi possibly know this gorgeous man?
As he skidded to an abrupt halt, nearly tripping over his own feet, the unkempt scientist offered a lopsided smile to his white clad guest. He seemed to be excited about something, though Mariko wasn't sure what exactly about… Could he have completed some wretched and strange experiment, and was about to share his dastardly results with this man?! Her eyes widened slightly and she hugged the thick bound book tighter to her chest, its presence reminding her of why she was there.
She gave a small cough, the noise bringing Satomi's attention back around to her, his strange smile dropping into a confused frown. Trying not to let the expression deter her, she pressed on, holding the book out to him.
"You… reserved this book from the library… a couple of weeks ago, Doctor Satomi…" she explained, waiting for him to take it. "And it arrived this morning… so… umm…"
His shaggy eyebrows raised slightly as he took the book from her grasp, flipping open the cover to skim the first couple pages. A look of recognition passed over his worn features as he nodded slowly, closing the book with a snap.
"Thank you," he said gruffly, turning his back on the young redhead, who had been watching him almost expectantly, waiting for some confirmation that her job was done.
Her lips broke into a nervous smile as she bowed politely, quite happy for an excuse to escape the eerie corridor. Without looking back at the unusual pair, she dashed off down the hallway, Maki's words echoing in her mind.
'Did you hear? Doctor Satomi has been working on cloning people! Do you think he's managed to make some kind of person and has been hiding them inside his lab?'
Could that person in white have been a clone? That could explain…
'Mariko, you really do read too many science fiction novels… He's probably just a colleague of Doctor Satomi!' she scolded herself, heaving open the heavy front door and stepping out into the red tinged moonlight.
"Hisoka…"
The name somehow managed to slip passed his lips, leaping from the tip of his tongue... He said it unconsciously, as though by calling out to him, his partner would somehow hear him. It seemed such foolish hopes were the only thing he could offer him right now... How could he have been so stupid, leaving his side! He shouldn't have met with Muraki. Then, Hisoka wouldn't have...
Without a second thought for the others on the sidewalk, Tsuzuki continued his panicked pace, rudely shoving his way through the morning crowd. He rounded sharp corner and, narrowly avoiding an unsuspecting woman, the shinigami bolted down the street in the direction of their rundown hotel.
His dark coat flared behind him as he ran, strangely reminiscent of some hero's cape... Waving triumphantly in the wind as he rushed in to save the day, or defend some poor innocent from evil. Had Tsuzuki's mind thought of such a comparison, it probably would have made him ill. There was absolutely nothing heroic about him. Heroic would have been if he'd managed save Hisoka from Muraki's clutches in the first place. A true hero would actually be able to help his partner somehow, save him from the darkness that now threatened him. He'd be able to save him.
'Self-pity is not going to help you or Hisoka. Idiot.'
Wincing inwardly, he pressed on, his leg muscles screaming their protest. The phone call was still clear in his mind, forcing the speed in his step.
"It's fine… But Tsuzuki, you need to get back here right away. It's about Bon…"
The words hit him like a ton of bricks. This couldn't be happening.
The usually bubbly scientist's voice sounded strained, his worry evident, even over the phone. What could have happened to have shaken him – perhaps a better question was what more could have happened…
"He's been - "
"I'll be right there."
The answer was automatic. His body felt numb, his blood cold. He didn't have to hear what had happened in his absence… it didn't matter. He wasn't there for his partner – again.
The dilapidated hotel was in sight at the end of the street. He was almost there…
'Hang on, Hisoka…'
"I really appreciate the help, Muraki-kun."
The room was in a state of disarray; stacks of research notes lay scattered over every surface, charts were crudely tacked to the walls, and the glass specimen tanks were grungy and in sore need of a thorough cleaning. The actual testing area was tidied enough not to taint his results, but that was the extent of his cleanliness.
"Not only are you helping me with such distasteful research, but you've even arranged for funding…"
Hunching over one of the stained tables, Satomi filled one of the chipped white mugs with coffee for his guest before filling a second for himself - He wasn't the most skilled of hosts, but he would at least offer his former student a drink, especially under the current circumstances.
Muraki stood in the opposite corner of the room, perusing one of the packed bookshelves as the aged man prepared their drinks. His face was expressionless, as though he weren't really listening to his words, or perhaps, just didn't care.
"It's only natural for an admiring student to cooperate with his teacher," he replied finally, his silvery eyes wandering to one of the larger tanks. The heart floating inside had long since withered and failed – apparently, Satomi had still not made the progress he had been promising. A pity, considering the time - and blood - that had been wasted to… obtain the sample.
"Muraki-kun…"
As the scruffy scientist turned, he spotted just what the doctor had been looking at – his face instantly fell, his thick brows furrowed in annoyance. Not at Muraki however, but at his own shortcomings. He hardly needed to parade his recent failures in front of his own student, especially one who provided the funding to his project… They were certainly not the type of results that would continue such generosity.
"How shameful… Cell division has ceased again…"
Flushing, Satomi stared hard at the white-clad doctor's back. What could he be thinking? That his time and money had been squandered on another botched attempt? Of course, he could also be considering the reasons for this recent failure – Kazutaka was an intelligent man after all, and this was not the first time that a specimen had not reached its potential. His input would surely be helpful…
However, whatever it was, he remained silent. His creased lips curled into a frown, hesitant about whether or not to test his kindness any further. He could not read his expression, as he couldn't see his face… And as he had yet to say anything…
"I'm sorry, but I'll be needing another specimen," he concluded finally, momentarily forgetting the drinks he'd prepared and taking a step toward the tank. Had he only known what he was asking…
"I see."
The younger man paused for a moment, still examining the pitiful heart that floated within its glass prison, before pulling a yellowed photograph from his pocket. Glancing over his shoulder at Satomi, his pale lips twitched into what could almost have been a smirk.
"Actually, I wanted you to have a look at something."
"Tsuzuki!"
The blonde leapt to his feet as the shinigami burst through the door, with enough force to nearly knock it off its track.
Watari stopped instantly; Tsuzuki had that same dangerous look as when he had left to see Muraki… but there was also something different. And while he couldn't claim to be the most observant of JuuOhCho's staff, you'd have to have been blind to miss the change in him. It was as evident as the worry he'd felt for Hisoka had been earlier. Then again, with the kid in such a –
Right. The kid.
"He's doing alright now, but earlier - " he started, quickly shoving his glasses back on his nose.
But Tsuzuki wasn't waiting to hear about it. He cut across the main room without stopping and made straight for Hisoka's bedside, still trying to remind himself just why he'd made the foolish decision to leave it. It had been for the better – he'd been left with no other options. Muraki would have come here, and he would have…
The thought died without completion.
Hisoka was even paler than before, his skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat. He had the covers thrown back, exposing his thin torso, his chest heaving with each laboured breath. But it wasn't this feverish state that made Tsuzuki's own chest tighten. Most disturbing were the trailing designs that had been traced over his chest and arms, as bright a crimson as when they'd been freshly carved. Some were darker than others, their lines weaving together in a grotesque pattern over his partner's frail body.
He clenched his fists until his knuckles went white; it took every ounce of control in him to stop himself from hitting something. Instead, he slowly knelt beside the teenager, at a complete loss for words. The superficial injuries had long since healed over – they'd vanished hours after they'd brought him back to the hotel. What was left was the result of Muraki's curse – something he had no real knowledge of… He was helpless once again.
'More like useless.'
"The markings reappeared just over half an hour ago," Watari explained, appearing in the doorway. "Though they were a lot worse – he was yelling for a bit. I'm surprised we didn't have any of our neighbours coming to check in on us. Then again, I doubt we have any in this dump."
He forced a nervous laugh, but quickly fell silent at the other's gaze. The brunette didn't have to voice his question – it was more than evident in that look.
"I don't know that there is anything we can do for him… Muraki's magic is stronger than I would have thought, and the kid's been double-cursed now."
Grimacing, Tsuzuki looked at strained expression on Hisoka's face before he gently brushed back a few strands of the sweat-soaked strands of hair. The gesture oddly reminded him of their first meeting – when the brat had downed his entire glass of sake in one go. Having never had alcohol before in his short life, he passed out cold, leaving him to drag him back to their hotel, all the while being lectured by Guushoshin.
He let his fingers linger on Hisoka's forehead for a brief moment, only to have them weakly batted away.
"Are… you trying to make me feel worse… than I already do?"
The world froze.
"Idiot."