AUTHOR'S NOTE: Think of this as a slight intermission to all the angst. This chapter is more on Tatsumi, Oriya and the relationship they share with the other two (Tsuzuki and Muraki).

[1] = Book #8, Kyoto Arc, Flash back of Oriya of a young Muraki asking him this question.

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Take a moment.

Sit down in a favorite chair and lean back for awhile. Do you remember? Do you remember that one moment where you weren't alone? Do you remember that one moment you felt alive? Or perhaps you'll remember a moment where you had to make a hard decision in order to make things right.

Maybe you'll see a familiar face again. A face you thought you'd never see again, even when that person never left you. Maybe you'll remember a promise long forgotten and smile.

Or maybe you'll cry.

Sit back. Make a cup of tea.

Do you remember?

--------------------------

The corridor of the building was much the same. It hadn't changed in all the years he'd been here. There on the wall, was the same small crack. They never did fix it. It didn't need to be fixed. It was just a small insignificant crack after all. It could easily be over looked. There were no windows in the hallway of the building. The only source of light was from the dimly flickering bulbs above. Those, too, needed to be replaced sometime soon. He'd forgotten the number of times those bulbs have been replaced. He'd forgotten the number of times he'd seen the same crack on the wall. He'd forgotten all those things.

The only thing he didn't forget was the day he had walked down this same hallway for the very first time.

The only thing he didn't forget was the feeling in the pit of his stomach as he opened the door of the office that would soon be his work place.

He brushed his hair from his face as he walked into the office, moving smoothly around the desks and chairs to reach the filing cabinet. The office as quiet; without Tsuzuki and Hisoka here it seemed less lively somehow. The two would usually be sitting in their chairs beside each other during this time. Hisoka would be either reading a book or looking over mission details. Tsuzuki, forever with a smile on his face for the younger man, would be trying to get him to speak up. That was Tsuzuki for you. He was always trying to make the people around him lighten up with his smiles. Always ready to offer his hand and grin.

It was so easy sometimes to almost forget their job when Tsuzuki was around. He was always smiling, his eyes were always shining brightly and his voice was always light. Sometimes, Tsuzuki reminded him of an actor playing a role. Pretending to be happy so that no one would ever think that he was actually hurting inside, that he was crying behind that grin he wore. Pretending. That was it. That was all he was doing. Pretending and acting. Tsuzuki was always smiling at him, after they were paired up as partners. After their introduction on that first day he came, after he returned from his training with his teacher, that was all Tsuzuki was doing. Pretending, lying to him with his oh so friendly smiles and happy voice. Hiding behind his mask of happiness so that he wouldn't know. So that he wouldn't worry over him. Pretending for his sake.

Pretending that everything was alright when it wasn't. Pretending and lying, like someone he used to know. Someone who was the most important person in his life while he was still alive.

Pretending, smiling at him that she was fine even when he turned his back and walked away, she would cry.

Lying to him that she wasn't scared, wasn't frightened. Pretending that she wasn't hungry even when she wasn't even able to walk any longer.

All for his sake. All that so that he wouldn't know, so that he wouldn't worry.

He hated that. Hated the fact that even though he was right there, he wasn't able to do anything to help. He couldn't chase away the fear and the hunger. He couldn't scare the angry dark clouds in from her eyes and bring sunshine into her life. He couldn't do anything to save her from herself. He couldn't stop her mind from slowly degrading, couldn't stop the insanity from taking over. He couldn't save the one person that was the most important thing in his life.

Nothing, there was nothing he could do but stand there and watch.





He found her outside, kneeling in the grass one day. It was a clear and sunny day, the clouds were littered about in the sky. There was a soft breeze that played with the long locks of his hair as he watched her. It looked so beautiful, her sitting there lost in whatever she was doing. So carefree and wonderful. It almost made him forget the times when she would suddenly cry, almost made him forget the wild looks in her eyes as she held onto him. He almost forgot that not long ago, she was so weak with hunger that she had to stay in bed for over a week.

He didn't want to disturb her. Didn't want to move her from her wonderful place among the grass and make her smile at him. Her painful smiles that tore at him. Her smiles with her teary eyes, telling him that she was happy. That she was happy even when she was going mad.

Closing his eyes, he brushed his hair from his face as he made his way towards his Mother. Heading up the small hill and standing behind her, he cleared his throat to get her attention.

He saw her back stiffen slightly before the dark head that was so much like his own turned around, a smile ready on her face. He tried to smile back, but he couldn't because it hurt. It hurt to pretend he was happy when he wasn't.

"Seiichirou! Look!" she said happily, turning around to face him. "Look!"

Looking down at his Mother, he kneeled down next to her as he asked, "What is it?"

Smiling wider, she held up her hands to him. Her hands which were currently covered in thick mud. "I made rice balls, Seiichirou! I made rice balls! I made them for you!"

Staring stupidly at his Mothers dirty hands, he felt hot tears welling up and spilling over his face. Rice balls, she said. She'd made them for him, she said. Feeling something inside of him breaking, he lunged forward and pulled his Mother into his arms, hugging her with everything he had. She went on, her voice muffled, saying how long it took to cook the rice. Saying how hard it was to form the perfect round rice ball for him.

She went on, asking him now. Why wouldn't he eat it? Wasn't he hungry? Was he waiting for her to eat first? It was okay, she ate already. She had already made some for herself.

And all he could do was hug her tightly as he cried. Saying the only thing he could think of at that moment.

"I'm sorry."





Closing his eyes, Tatsumi shoved the memory away. He didn't want to remember it. Didn't want to remember the shock, the terror and the horror of finding his Mother with dirt on her hands and her happy voice telling him to eat the rice balls she had made. Opening the drawer of the cabinet, he quickly put his files away before slamming it shut. He winced at the loud bang. Glad that there was no one in the office to see his sudden action, Tatsumi leaned forward, resting his forehead against his hand as he squeezed his eyes shut. His shoulders raised and fell with his breathing, his chest moving up and down as he pushed his emotions down. He swallowed, the motion sounding loud to his ears.

Opening his eyes slightly, he gazed at the top of his shoes for awhile.

They were the same; he had thought when he first worked with Tsuzuki. Oh, they looked nothing alike. It was in the way they smiled. It was in the way they tried to smile for him. They tried to pretend for him, so that he wouldn't worry. And in the end, it drove one of them crazy. In the end, it killed one of them. Raising his head, he gazed at his now empty hands. It drove one of them crazy, pretending to be happy for him. And it was his fault. In those three months, he knew Tsuzuki was suffering. He knew that behind that too happy smile was a tear streaked face. Whenever he would try and ask about it, Tsuzuki would only smile, shaking his head, saying that he was fine. That he was okay.

It was slowly killing him, he knew, being happy for his sake. It was slowly killing Tsuzuki.





It was just another case. A simple one at that. All they had to do was to lead a stray soul back onto the right path. A soul who refused to move on. The soul of a child, who had fallen over a bridge and drowned. It was just another simple case, it didn't require much work.

Yet, it was still hard. He found him standing there on the bridge. He was searching for it, that bridge that Tsuzuki had somehow found so easily.

So, there they were. Standing quietly on the bridge as Tsuzuki watched something. Slightly curious at what his partner was looking at, he moved closer. Stopping a few feet behind the violet eyed man, he held his breath at what he saw.

It was a little boy, no older than nine playing on the bridge. He was laughing, he sounded so happy. His laughter was light and clear, and it stung in his ears as he continued to watch silently. The boy, hopped, giggled and then hopped around in a circle. All awhile he was humming happily. Acting as if he was still alive but he didn't know. How could a child so young know that he was in truth already dead?

So young, too young, to know the difference between life and death. And it stung somewhere in his chest as he continued to watch the little child play.

That's when they came. A couple dressed in simple clothing walking past him and onto the bridge. The man, perhaps somewhere in his late 30s, was holding onto the umbrella over their heads. His wife was holding a small banquet of flowers in her hands. They were a handsome couple, walking beside each other like that. He watched them silently, his eyes following their movements as they stopped, looking over the railing of the bridge.

He turned his attention back to the young boy as he stopped and smiled brightly at the couple. That's when he realized it, they were his parents.

"Mama! Papa!" The little boy smiled, running over to them, his arms open. "Mama!"

He didn't want to watch any longer, but he couldn't turn his face away.

Closer he ran to them, his eyes shining brightly with joy. "Papa! You came back!"

The couple didn't turn around; they didn't smile and welcome their son back into their arms. They couldn't because he was already dead. The boy didn't know that, so he frowned and came closer to them. He wanted to look away, oh how he wanted to look away. Yet he couldn't. So he watched as the small child raised his hands to hold the larger ones that belonged to his Father, only to stop when his Mother whispered brokenly into the still air.

"I miss you. I miss you so much."

She dropped the banquet of flowers into the river below. Her husband tightened his arm around her shoulders, his voice thick with emotion as he spoke in his deep voice.

"� let's go home."

Nodding, her hands covering her face as she cried, she turned back around and followed her husband.

They didn't take notice of him as they walked by. They didn't take notice of the son they left behind as he stared dazedly into the river below. The only people who noticed were Tsuzuki and him. Only they noticed the fear in the little boy's face. Only they noticed the slight shaking of his shoulders as he turned his face towards them, his eyes wide.

And only he noticed Tsuzuki's fists shaking at his sides. Only he noticed the unshed tears in his partner's face as the little boy ran towards them.

And when the boy stopped, staring up at Tsuzuki with his eyes overflowing with tears as he cried brokenly, "Mister� you, you can see me, right? You see me, don't you? Why� Mama and Papa. They�" He was the only one who noticed the way Tsuzuki slowly fell to his knees before the young boy, his hand reaching out to touch, but stopping half way. Only he noticed how Tsuzuki tried to smile as he brushed the boy's tears from his face.

"I'm sorry." Tsuzuki whispered. "� I'm sorry."

And the boy cried, throwing his arms around Tsuzuki as he screamed out mournfully. "I want to go home!! I want to go home!!"

He saw the way Tsuzuki clung onto the child as tightly as the boy clung to him. And when Tsuzuki looked up at him, his arms so tightly around the weeping boy, he was the only one who saw the tears in his eyes as he smiled.

"� I'm okay, Tatsumi."

"� Tsuzuki-san�"





He stood back up, pushing his glasses up as he turned around to walk back into his office. That had been the last case they had together. He couldn't stand to see the expression Tsuzuki had showed him countless of times before any longer. Smiling even when he was crying. Pretending. Lying. He couldn't stand it. It was as if his life was repeating itself in his death. As if he was being mocked by the Gods.

He couldn't make his Mother smile a true smile when he was alive and even in death, he couldn't make his partner smile a happy smile either.

He ended their partnership because they were lying to each other. One pretending to be alright and the other pretending that everything was alright. A partnership based on lies would never last long. It probably would've ended sooner, had he noticed the signs earlier.

He ended their partnership because he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help, to change those tear filled smiles into real happy ones. He left because he was afraid. He was afraid of failing once again.

"Yo! Tatsumi! I've been looking around for Tsuzuki and I can't seem to find him! Do you know where he is?" A cheery voice asked, bringing him out of his depressing thoughts.

Steadying himself, Tatsumi turned around to face the other man. Blue gazed into curious golden brown as he pondered over his answer.





He stood up as Tsuzuki raised himself up, his eyes dry and red from crying. Though, behind the redness there was a determination in Tsuzuki's eyes. A burning will to save his partner. As he continued to look into those eyes, he felt at ease and yet at the same time sad. He wasn't like Tsuzuki or Hisoka. His eyes didn't burn with that much determination.

He took off his glasses, rubbing the smooth glass as he spoke. "I will g-"

"No." Tsuzuki cut him off, looking over at him. "There are only three players in this game, Tatsumi. I won't let another person fall into it. I will go."

He stopped and Tsuzuki went on, his face hard. "I'm his partner. I'll bring him back. Please, Tatsumi� let me do this alone."

"� Tsuzuki-san."





"� Tsuzuki-san, won't be coming in to work today." He closed his eyes, pushing his glasses up. "� Neither will Kurosaki-kun."

Watari raised an eyebrow, his usual perky expression sinking in to reveal a more quiet and serious nature that he only used when he knew something was wrong. It wouldn't have been strange to find that it was only Tsuzuki that wouldn't be in, but to have Hisoka not going into work either was different. The young boy had never missed a day of work. Watching Tatsumi for awhile longer, trying to find out what the other man was trying to hide, he finally spoke up.

"� I suppose you won't say why."

Blue eyes looked into his own as Tatsumi spoke. "They will be fine."

"But Tatsu-!"

"Watari-san," Tatsumi cut him off smoothly, turning away from the blonde haired scientist. He paused for awhile, remembering the burning fire within Tsuzuki's eyes as he said he would be the one to bring his partner back, before speaking up once again.

"� When a person has something precious they want to protect. That is when they truly become strong." The silence that followed was a pleasant one as the other man absorbed his words. He closed his eyes, repeating it to himself as he thought of Tsuzuki. He will bring Kurosaki-kun back. Tsuzuki-san will bring him back. Behind him, Watari was watching his back, his eyes soft and understanding. A small smile formed on his lips as he crossed his arms, still staring at Tatsumi's back as he replied.

"People who know when to let go, people who let others help when they can't, are also strong. Tatsumi�"

His eyes opened as he heard those words. Turning around slowly, he was met once more with one of Watari's sunny smiles.

"Well, since my test subject isn't here, I'll be going now!" Watari said with the usual perk back in his voice before turning around and walked off.

Still standing in the main office, Tatsumi watched the blonde man as he disappeared.

"� Watari-san."

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The weather was always very beautiful in Kyoto. The leaves were always a lovely reddish gold as they hung from the branches above. The air was always clear and crisp. In the city were everything seemed as if it was transported through time, the weather was always beautiful. In the city where the old mixed in with the new, memories were being made every day. Happy times visiting the many temples that littered around the old Kyoto roads. Wonderful sights to see in the beautiful koi gardens, feeding the fishes as they swam around in utter bliss of the human world.

Kyoto was a city where wonderful memories were made. Kyoto was a city where memories were colored by sepia.

It was also in this city that he, Mibu Oriya, came to know someone like Muraki.

Lifting his face up as a cool breeze passed by, Oriya quietly flipped through the sepia pages in his mind to that certain day so many years ago where he came faced to faced with Muraki Kazutaka.





Being the new kid in school was his worst nightmare come true. Being on stage, standing in front of countless strangers, it was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. Sure, in his Father's profession he was used to meeting new people nearly every day, but there was a difference. He was meeting them one on one, getting to know them whereas he was being put up on a stage like a freak show for all the students to gawk at. He flinched, keeping his head down as the Principal read the names of the new students out loud.

"--- Mibu Oriya and---"

He could already see the expression on their faces as he heard his name. Could already hear the words being whispered around even as he stood before them. The glares that he was looking away from as they realized his wealth.

"Mibu? You mean the son of the owner of KokakuRou? Ch' why is he in a public school? Why not one of those fancy private ones?"

"� Did you hear? Some are suspecting that it's also a Geisha house."

"� Shh, he's looking this way."

It continued through out the day. As he walked down the hallways towards his classes he could still feel their eyes on him. He hated it. Hated feeling as if he didn't belong with them and that only added to his hate towards his Father's profession. So caught up he was with his thoughts that he didn't notice another student in his way until they collided. Muttering a soft apology he quickly got down and picked up his pack only to be surprised when a pale hand reached down and grabbed his wrist.

"� Your wrist." A deep smooth voice spoke from above him. "� You practice bujitsu, don't you?"

He paused, not knowing what to do. As he slowly looked up, he could have sworn that his mind was stolen away by the gaze that resembled the moon.





Kyoto truly was a very beautiful city. The color sepia also matched with it. Old and seemingly forgotten, the people who lived in Kyoto could move about as they pleased. It was in this city that he had lived the last thirty odd years of his life. It was in this city that his memories were made and are forever being played back over and over again within his mind. It was in this city, inside this brothel, surrounded by these walls that he could remember the time when the person whose eyes could put the moon to shame really spoke to each other as if long lost friends.





It was never a surprise when he came to visit. It wasn't surprising either when even most of his Geisha have taken a liking to the young man whose hair was like fine moon silk and eyes like the beams of moonlight shining down from the heavens. Always proper and well dressed, he was the perfect gentlemen. Everyone liked him for his well behavior and smooth manner. But that was all they knew about him. They were familiar with his reserved and slightly condescending smile; they were always greeted with his smooth and firm voice but none of them saw beyond that. None of them were allowed to see beyond that.

Only he was. Only Mibu Oriya of the KokakuRou was allowed to see the person behind the beautiful moon.

So there they were, sitting across from each other in the slightly darkened room. It was his private room, separated from the rest of the restaurant by a koi garden. It was a simple room; there was a scroll painting of a geisha on the wall behind him. The lady was dressed in a lovely red kimono that brought out the stark white make upon her round face. Across the room on the other wall facing the geisha was a large fan. Upon the old folded pages of the fan was a lovely detailed art of a nightingale. The bird was perched on a thin branch of a cherry blossom tree. Its wings were spread apart, showing that it was either about to fly off again or was getting ready to sing its lovely song.

Either way, the room was quiet. The only sound that was audible was from the breathing from the two life forms and the sound of his tea preparation. The warm mist from the bowl swirled up, breathing across his naked hand before evaporating.

"You are getting better at it." Commented the pale person across from him.

"Yes," he replied, "I've had much practice in it."

There was a soft thoughtful 'Hm.' before Muraki spoke up once again. "I miss our jujitsu practices."

He paused for awhile, and then set his hand back to grinding the tea. "You always were the hands on type of person."

A soft and slightly amused chuckle was his answer before the room once again fell back into silence. The moon was high in the sky, shining down into the koi garden and the room with its unearthly light, and the crickets were rubbing their hind legs together in a course.

There were few things that can catch him off guard; however, the words that Muraki spoke next did just that.

"I have a brother."





He sat down outside the very same room, a fan in his hand. His thick black hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, the weather was getting hotter day by day and leaving it down was killing him. He would've gladly cut down his mass of hair, but he didn't. He didn't and the reason was a very simple one. Simple in his mind at least. He left it long because Muraki liked it that way. There were very few things in life that Muraki actually liked. He liked the taste of warm tea in the morning, especially if it was just freshly made. He liked the color white; saying that it amused him greatly that such a simple color could have so much meaning behind it. He liked dipping his fingers into things unknown, into the unsolved mysteries of life. But those things didn't matter to Oriya, not in the least. The only one that mattered was the fact that Muraki liked his hair long, and so he would keep it long.

Not like he would care if I actually chopped it off. He thought bitterly.

There were very little things that Muraki liked. But the one thing that he disliked, hated with a passion even, the most was his half brother.

He'd never met Muraki's brother in person. He brought his pipe to his lips, brows arching just a bit. No� once. Only once did he saw the person that was Muraki's half brother. Pulling the pipe from his lips, he lifted his face up, exhaling a swirl of smoke up into the Kyoto air as he thought of the darkest day in Muraki's life.





Kyoto's rural area was always beautiful. The endless miles of rice farms reached as far as the eyes could see. It was a beautiful day, the sun was high above in the sky, feeding the trees and crops with the much needed warm rays of life. Dragonflies and butterflies fluttered about around them, dancing in some secret dance that only insects would know of. Showing off to the large forms of the passing humans perhaps. It truly was a beautiful day. Too beautiful even for such a sad occasion.

The death of a family member was always a terrible occasion. Though he did not feel the sadness in his heart for the dead, he did feel a great deal of pain for the still living. Muraki was still only a young man, he'd only passed his high school entrance exam a few months ago, not old enough to live on his own yet. Even though he still had his faithful butler, Oriya still had certain concerns for his friend. One of them being the half brother that the pale haired youth would speak of when they were alone. He did not know much about Saki, though what he heard angered him.

Muraki had told him of the times he had tried to win his brothers kindness, only to be brushed cruelly away with a condescending smirk. Time and time again Saki had cruelly brought Muraki down with his cold words and the young man was slowly being driven mad with such treatment. The harsh treatment from his brother, a brother that was conceived the same day he was, only added to his anger towards their Father who laid with another lady while his Mother was with child.

He wasn't walking side by side with Muraki. Being only a friend of the family, he was walking along side with business partners and other friends of the Muraki household. But as they reached their destination, a family burial ground tucked away from the world and protected by tall trees, he saw the faces of the now orphaned young men.

And what shocked him was that, even as the two sons watched the lid of the coffin that held their Father captive, neither of them shed tears.





Looking back on that day, Oriya found that he really shouldn't have been shocked by that fact. Muraki had never held any affection or compassion towards his father. Muraki's Father was a man of pure business, as a doctor he took his work seriously. Perhaps a bit too seriously. He would spend hours and sometimes even days at work without notifying his family first. Muraki's Father was a man who took work before family. It was probably because of that that his Mother went mad. Or perhaps it was the fact that his Father became more and more distant, spending more time away from home and away from his family with another woman.

Either way, Muraki's Mother was plain mad.





His hair was such a strange color, especially since he was Asian. Who ever heard of a platinum blonde Asian man? He never asked Muraki about his hair color, it would be rude to ask such a question. But he could never help himself from staring at the silky strands of woven moon. His mouth quirked a bit. That was it. That was what Muraki's hair looked like. Woven moon silk. Beautiful and pale like the moon upon the sky above them.

And like the moon, he was so seemingly close, close enough to touch yet when one would reach out for him they would find that he was miles and miles away. Even after all the years they've known each other, Muraki was still such a mystery to him. It was as if there was something else he was holding back. Something he wasn't willing to share, even with him.

"She used to think the same thing."

Oriya blinked, finding an amused gaze looking back at him as he looked away from Muraki's hair. "What was that?"

A slight smirk as slender hands reached out to bring a cup of warm tea to his lips. Muraki muttered quietly after he swallowed. "My Mother. She used to think my hair was like moonbeams."

He couldn't fight down the slight embarrassment at being caught staring. "I see."

The smirk turned into a smile. "Do you know how to catch the moon, Oriya?"

"� catch the moon?"

A nod. He shook his head, wondering what Muraki was going to do.

The smile turned amused, almost playful in a way. "Then I will show you how to catch the moon."

Lowering his tea cup, Muraki placed in into the bright moonlight that was shining into the room. He pulled his hands back, looking back up at his friend as he continued to smile, his eyes greatly amused.

Confused, Oriya looked down and into Muraki's tea up. And he found, being reflected on the surface of the still warm tea, the moon smiling back at him.

"That, Oriya, is how you catch the moon."





Taking another long drag of his pipe, Oriya wondered briefly what the other man was doing. Oh, he was no fool; he knew Muraki was up to no good once again. He knew Muraki was out to 'fix his puppet' as he had said. It angered him, yes, to find that Muraki didn't cherish human life. But he also couldn't blame him. Muraki himself wasn't treated as a human when he was a child. From his memories of the times Muraki would tell him about his Mother, Muraki was more or less treated as an object, a doll. Something his Mother liked to play with when she had lost to her mind. When jealousy and insanity melted together until she realized that the only thing she truly owned was the son she had given birth to.

He didn't blame Muraki for the things he did. No, he didn't blame him at all. It was Life that had done that to him. It was Life that had turned him from the boy he once knew into the man he was now. It was Life and insanity and jealousy and anger and resentment that had molded Muraki into the seemingly evil person he was today. No, Muraki was not to be blamed for the things he had done in his life.

It was Life's cruel way in messing with people's lives that was to blame.





They were on their way home from school. It was another cold day, the autumn weather was strangely harsh this year and the clouds looked about ready to cry tears of unforgiving wetness down onto them. Yet, they strolled down the sidewalk quietly, as if the first signs of a rainstorm didn't bother them the least.

And it didn't, at least to him. It had been a tiring day and he wanted nothing more than a warm cup of freshly brewed tea to sooth his sore throat.

The winds howled around them, causing some lose leaves from the trees above to fall down. The person beside him stopped walking and, curious, he stopped also. The wind continued to howl as he watched the strands of pale hair play against the breeze.

"Oriya�" the deep voice spoke his name slowly. [1]

He tilted his head to the side, silently urging Muraki to continue. The other teen turned around suddenly, a strange yet sad smile upon his face as he spoke up again.

"Oriya� If I was to die before you. Even if it's fake. Would you cry a single tear for me?"

He was too stunned to answer and when he found his voice, Muraki had already brushed it aside.





Letting his head fall forward, the longer locks of his hair falling into his face, Oriya played that single memory over and over again in his mind. He was stunned, shocked beyond words, when Muraki had asked him that. He hadn't expected Muraki to say anything like that. Hadn't expected Muraki to already be thinking about his own death when he was only a teen of eighteen years. That was the one moment that made him realized that there was so much more to the person he considered his best friend. That even though Muraki shared most of his life with him, there were other things that the other man still held back.

"Oriya, if I was to die before you� a single tear for me?"

He gripped his pipe tightly in his hands, his expression slightly angered. "No� I won't cry for you, Muraki."

The cool Kyoto wind howled around him.

"� Because I won't let you die so easily."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: And we're back to the regularly schedule angst! Maybe I shouldn't sound so happy.

[1] = Book #1 Nagasaki Arc. A conversation with Gushoushin about Hisoka's past lead Tsuzuki to think this.
[2] = Book #3 King of Swords Arc. Tsuzuki's thoughts on Hisoka after returning from being molested (again) by Muraki. The picture in this scene is adorable. ^_^

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People go through life trying to define the person they are. They go through life trying to build something around them, so that they can show proof that they are who they say they are.

People want to feel the sense of being; the sense of self.

Who is a person without a name? Who is a person without a family? Who is a person without a background?

But most of all, who is a person who doesn't even know themselves?

People go through life trying to find themselves. They live on, building on more and more to their life as they slowly become familiar with who they are.

For a person who doesn't know who they are would be nothing, wouldn't they?

--------------------------

The room was quiet. It was lit by the rays of sunshine that shone through the window but it was quiet. It was quiet save for the cockroach that skittered across the cold floor and into a crack on the wall. The room where three people were currently in was quiet, unnaturally so. There should be some noise yet there wasn't. There should be a rustle of clothing, yet there wasn't any. There was no sound in the backroom of the puppet store. There was no sound save for the cockroach running out of the crack on the wall and skittering across the floor.

There was no sound until that same cockroach was stepped on by the sole of a white shoe as the person dressed in all white took a step forward.

Gazing down at the man who seemingly looked younger, but was his elder in so many years, Muraki raised an eyebrow. "I did not hear you, Tsuzuki-san."

What he said was true when he had commented that Tsuzuki's eyes were beautiful when they were angry. Such a wonderful color his eyes were, like lavender on black velvet. And they were now burning with such intensity, such determination that he felt a shiver of excitement run down his spine. He knew Tsuzuki knew that this was all a well thought up game. He knew that Tsuzuki knew how much he enjoyed this. He knew that Tsuzuki thought he was doing all this still to have him.

And he had meant it when he said it wasn't. Oh, it would be too easy to tell Tsuzuki that all he needed to do to save his partner was to hand himself over. It was far too easy to make Tsuzuki do whatever he wanted when his partner was passed out. Too easy, that is why he did this. There was more of a bite to this than requesting the other man to follow him. There was more excitement, more tension and pressure into making Tsuzuki choose. There will be another time to take the violet eyed man. There will be another time he would be able to touch that perfect body. However, this time, he wanted to play.

He had started all this because the boy was, in truth, broken. How he was broken, only he, Muraki, would know. Theirs was a bond that only he would understand, however twisted and sick it was. He had branded this boy more or less as his. He had imprinted into the young man's very soul his mark. The link between them will never be broken, will never lessen and fade. It will always be there, at the back of his mind just like how it would be at the back of the boy's own. He could feel the young man, could faintly feel his aura whenever he went. Though Hisoka could not always feel him unless he was near, he would forever feel the younger man.

He had made it so, so he would not lose track of him.

"I'll free Hisoka from you."

Such brave words, it made him want to laugh.

Humans, he noted in his many years of interacting with them, become so desperate when they are cornered. When they are pushed and shoved in the right places, they whimper and shudder with fear. When they are faced with something that displeases them, they would sneer and hiss at the object until it would leave them. Humans, he mused, were so predictable in everything they did. All he needed was the right timing, the right place and the right tools to make them do as he pleased. It was so easy, because humans were simple creatures. One look on another person's face and he could already calculate how they would react to something.

Tsuzuki was very much the same. When pushed far enough into a corner, when faced with something he didn't want to see, the other man would cower and duck his head. When shoved in the face of something he wouldn't want to see, his beautiful violet eyes would burn with such intensity, as if willing that object to melt before his eyes.

Muraki's eyes narrowed a bit. In a way, both Tsuzuki and the boy were alike. They both ran from what they truly are. Both cowards, both so easily read by his eyes.

He smirked.

This was a game he would win undoubtedly.

Arms still locked around his partner's slim body, the fabric of his pants slowly soaking up the splattered blood on the floor, though no trace of any cuts were now seen on that forever youthful body, Tsuzuki continued to glare up at him.

How he loved those eyes. Those beautiful jewels burning like a forbidden flame in the darkest coldest of nights.

Like a lighthouse leading a ship away from danger.

Like a moth to a flame.

His smirk grew into a small smile. "I did not hear you, Tsuzuki-san."

Purple flames burned into his brain, into his soul. Those eyes, like that of the boy's, have captured him the moment he looked into them so many years ago.

Eyes of amethyst against golden copper so much like emerald against pale ivory.

"I said," Tsuzuki muttered up at him, his face hard.

"� I choose Hisoka."

--------------------------

It was impossible.

It had to be. How could Muraki be standing here in front of him, in his own room? He shook his head. Not real. But the children weren't real either, were they? He remembered them, yet they weren't real. The night he lost everything wasn't real either, was it? Yet he remembered it happening. He remembered the pain of that night. He remembered the disgusting feeling of being touched.

It can't be real� He�

Oh, but it was. Somewhere locked deep within his mind, a voice whispered: It's real. He's here. Don't you remember?

He didn't want to remember.

He wanted the man before him to disappear like those children in his memories. Wanted him to vanish in a swirl of smoke like a magic show. Wanted him to melt into the floor and scream in agony as that happened.

Muraki was still standing there with a knowing smile on his face.

"Out of bed so early. Are you feeling better?"

He felt revolted. Sick; like there was a blender within his stomach and it was mixing and mixing his insides together until he couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to get out of this place.

"� More or less."

His voice spoke out but he hadn't moved his lips. Blinking in surprised, Hisoka turned around only to look straight into his own eyes. Once again the unnerving feeling of� seeing himself went down his spine. It still wasn't like looking into a mirror. His younger self was a living breathing entity. His younger self was currently standing right next to him beside the window. His younger self was now allowing Muraki, the man who killed and raped him, walk right up to him.

He wanted to scream.

"Though it is good news that you are able to walk steady now, I still do not recommend you standing near a window."

It was strange seeing Muraki play the role of a doctor when he was the murderer not so long ago. Unnerving how one minute he can be a ruthless killer and the next act as if nothing had happened.

The younger Hisoka backed away from the window, keeping his eyes averted from Muraki's cool gaze.

"� I just wanted to look outside."

Run. He wanted to shake himself. He wanted his younger self to run.

Run from the madman.

Run from his bed.

Just run.

He didn't.

He stood there as Muraki ever so smoothly walked closer. "Outside? What is there to see outside? There's nothing but the trees and sky."

His younger self glanced back out the window, not answering for awhile.

Hisoka shook his head, still refusing to acknowledge this. Refusing accept that his killer had been in his home, had been near him in those three painful years that he barely remembered.

"� There are birds," his soft voice spoke out. "There are flowers. There is laughter. And�"

The sound of children playing beyond the walls of the household reached their ears. The joyful sound rung loud and clear like a chorus of bells. It stung as he continued to listen. How many times had he heard those same children play? How many times had he stood in front of the gates, wanting to push those heavy doors open and run with those same children? Far too many times for him to keep track of. He was never allowed to play with them. Never allowed beyond those large and towering doors. He wasn't allowed to because he was different from them.

"Why was a child like you ever born?"

He closed his eyes and turned away from the laughter. Unbeknownst to him, the younger Hisoka had done the same thing.

"Is that what you want?"

His eyes opened as Muraki's words spoke up above the laughter. He turned back, eyes widening as Muraki reached out and touched the younger Hisoka's chin. He shivered; he could almost feel that hand on his own face. Muraki continued to caress, trailing his hand up to brush a lock of hair away from the Hisoka before him. He looked at himself and found that his eyes were glazed over, dull and lifeless as the man continued to touch him.

"Is that what you long for?"

"� I�"

"Is that what you keep hanging on for? Love, affection and joy?"

"� I�"

"Shut up." He all but growled with his hands fisted at his side. "Shut up."

"Is your need to be like them what keeping you alive?" Muraki was cupping his face now, brining him closer slowly.

"� I want�"

"I said SHUT UP!" He screamed, covering his ears.

"� It no longer matters what you want, boy. It matters no more. Do you wish to know why?"

"N-no� I� I want�" A stray tear fell from his eyes.

"What you want no longer matters because you no longer exist in this world."

The world suddenly became nothing but a black void as the scene before him melted away. The world became nothing but complete darkness and he was stranded.

Stranded, lost and alone. Cold and abandoned.

The world became nothing because he no longer existed in it.

--------------------------

There were few things that can catch Muraki off guard. He was a man who calculated things out before hand. It gave him the upper hand when he interacted with others. To know how the person before you was going to react to what you said was a good thing. It made them predictable. It made them an easy prey. However, there are times, though very few, where the puppet of his show did things he did not think it would do.

Like this time for example. It was times like these that made him take note not to underestimate his prey. He had thought Tsuzuki would fall for his trap. He had thought that Tsuzuki would take the bait, that he would pick the doll and save his partner's soul.

He thought wrong.

Though, he was like any predator. He learned from his mistakes. He will no longer underestimate Tsuzuki again.

But there were other more important things on his mind at the moment. For when Tsuzuki had said he picked Hisoka, the ward on Veronica's back had burst into flames, surprising him into dropping his doll onto the hard floor. The impact of the smooth face of the doll and the floor caused a sickening cracking sound that bounced off the walls.

Neither of them spoke a word in a span of two minutes. Neither moved, both staring into each other's eyes as if they were waiting for any sudden movement from the other.

The doll continued to lie quietly on the floor, her silky blonde hair was being burned away slowly by the small fire on her back.

Somewhere outside the puppet store, life moved on. Somewhere outside the puppet store, people walked about without a care in the world. Somewhere outside the puppet store a person was dying as a new child was being born. Life moved on unknowing of the three people within the store that seemed as if time had put a stop to everything within its walls.

Muraki broke their gaze, looking down at Veronica before picking her up. Using his hand to beat out the small flames, he dusted her off casually.

Tsuzuki watched, keeping his eyes on the man before him. He was waiting, waiting for Muraki to attack. Waiting for him to summon his monsters. He was waiting for anything, anything at all. He had spoken his choice. He had picked Hisoka and not the doll. He had said he would free Hisoka and he would. Picking Hisoka over the doll was the first move.

"What if I told you that the body you are holding in your arms is not your dear partner? What if I told you that that is nothing but a lifeless body?"

It did not matter any longer. He had picked Hisoka. He had picked Hisoka because with his soul or not, Hisoka was still Hisoka. Hisoka was the young man with the blonde hair and the beautiful green eyes. Hisoka was the child with the intense glare and the harsh words. Hisoka was anger, distrust, moodiness, cold, hot and warm. Hisoka was alive. The doll was not. And so, in his eyes, Hisoka could never be a doll.

"I am displeased, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki's voice brought him out of his thoughts as he looked back up at the pale man. Cold eyes were narrowed just slightly as Muraki looked down at him. "I am very displeased�"

He suppressed a shiver as he held Hisoka's still prone body closer. Muraki went on as he held Veronica in the crook of his arms, almost cradling her.

"� You've broken my favorite doll� Tsuzuki-san."

He didn't speak, didn't move or look away. His gaze held strong and firm. To look away from those eyes now would show weakness, it would show that he was unsure of his choice. He would not look away, not when Hisoka's wellbeing was at stake. For Hisoka he would be strong and face Muraki. For Hisoka he would look at insanity straight in the eye and rip that smirk from that pale face.

For Hisoka he would risk his own safety because Hisoka needed him.

Hisoka needs him.

He'd run away once long ago when someone he cared about needed him. He'd run from them and because of that, he'd lost them forever. He did not want to lose Hisoka. He didn't want to lose this person who could be so harsh one minute and then shyly caring the next. He didn't want this child who was thrown into his care to be harmed any longer.

How many times has he been betrayed and hurt�? [1]

He won't do that to Hisoka. He would do things right this time. This time, he would stay and help. Hisoka was his second chance at doing things correctly. With Hisoka, he could ease the heavy burden on his shoulders slightly. He hadn't been able to do anything for his partner when he was alive and in pain, so in his death he would stand beside this hot tempered young man and face his demons with him.

"Tasukete! Tsuzuki!!"

Resting the palm of his hand against Hisoka's cold cheek, Tsuzuki pressed his cheek against the top of Hisoka's head. It's okay, Hisoka. I'm here now. I'm not running anymore.

For a moment, he forgot about Muraki. For a moment, he didn't see the backroom of the puppet store. For a single beautiful and peaceful moment, there was only him and Hisoka. There were only them and the feeling of Hisoka back in his arms. The wonderful thankful feeling of feeling his partner next to him, close to him and safe again. There were only them, him with his arms tightly around Hisoka and Hisoka resting silently in his arms. And for a moment, he remembered his selfish thoughts back in the Queen Camellia. [2]

The past with Muraki has nothing to do with me.

Could I have helped you even if I was there? Could I have saved you from that night that still haunts you even when you try so hard to deny it? I don't know� but�

But when you're caught in a nightmare�

I want to be the one you see when you wake up.

When you're having hard times�

I want to be the one you run to for help.

If it's just being by your side�

Even if you won't let me do anything to help you�

It wouldn't be conceited.

Even if it's selfish of me to want to be near you when I can't do anything�

Even if you're only depressed�

� I still want to try. I'll be the idiot for you so you would forget. I'll be the childish fool for you. As long as you let me be there. As long as I can have this when it's all over.

The sound of footsteps heading away was what brought him back out of his thoughts. Looking over at Muraki, he found the pale man leaning against the wall near the window once again, looking out of it with Veronica still in his arms. The sun was still shining brightly in the sky and the rays played across the smooth pale complexion as Tsuzuki continued to watch. As he continued to observe Muraki, he noticed that the other man almost seemed as if he was� contemplating something. The usual smirk or all knowing smile was no longer upon his face. And as Muraki finally turned his eyes back into the room, Tsuzuki noted that he looked sober almost� thoughtful.

Muraki glanced down at the doll before placing it on the ground, leaning its back against the wall as he silently dusted his hands off. The moment of silence spanned on in the room. The sun continued to shine brightly despite the sudden uneasiness Tsuzuki was feeling.

Glancing briefly at Veronica, Tsuzuki noted that the doll's eyes were completely dull. Void of any light reflecting off its smooth surface. He couldn't even see the reflection of the room in Veronica's eyes and in finding that, he felt a slight shiver run down his back.

"Do you wish to know what your dear partner wanted, Tsuzuki-san?"

Jerking slightly at the sudden sound of Muraki's voice, he returned his gaze back towards those that belonged to the other man. The usual smirk was back in place, yet� there was something deep in Muraki's eyes that he couldn't figure out. Something about how the usually unnerving brightness of those pale orbs suddenly becoming dim confused him.

"Will you not answer me now?" Muraki pondered, his deep voice bouncing off the walls.

"� How would you know what Hisoka wants?"

Closing his eyes slightly, Muraki chuckled amusingly at the question. "I thought I made it clear that the boy and I were� connected."

"Tell me boy. What do you want?"

Not giving Tsuzuki the chance to speak up again, Muraki went on casually as if they were discussing about the weather.

"Your partner is a greedy boy, Tsuzuki-san. There are quite a lot of things that he wants, yearns for." As he spoke, Muraki strolled around the room, letting his hands touch the old walls, almost caressing them as if he'd been in the room before and had returned from a long journey. He stopped, right behind where Tsuzuki and Hisoka were, his palm resting flat against the hard wall where Hisoka had hung from only hours before. Pressing his hand harder against the wall, as if he was trying to shove it away and reveal another path for him, Muraki continued.

� I�

"There are so many things that he wants and so many of them are simple. Did you know that he is actually really easy to please? You don't know, do you?" A soft knowing chuckle emitted from deep within Muraki's chest as he went on.

"� What he wants." Muraki muttered, letting his hand slide away from the wall slowly as he turned around to face Tsuzuki's back. "� is what every child has."

Tsuzuki gazed down into Hisoka's face, his eyes trailing down relaxed eyebrows, the long slender nose and towards the usually frowning lips.

� You wanted to be loved. Didn't you, Hisoka?

Behind him, Muraki went on. "He wants what every human being has."

� I want�

� A place to accept you and care for you. People who will be there for you. People who would help you and defend you.

"� He wants� what every man wants."

A home. A family.

"Would you like to know what else your partner wants, Tsuzuki-san?"

He didn't say a word; instead he continued to look down at Hisoka's face as if he was trying to memorize the peacefulness of it. As if he was trying to imprint into his brain what Hisoka looked like when he wasn't yelling, scolding or glaring at him. Utterly at ease, without lines to mar the forever youthful face, completely smooth and beautiful. That word did not suit Hisoka. Beautiful didn't describe him. Beautiful wasn't enough. Enchanting, breathtaking, unearthly. Those words could not begin to paint a picture of what Hisoka was. And that was just perfect. It was better. Better to not be able to come up with any words to describe his partner than to make a list of those that do. Better to ponder and think over what word would complete Hisoka than to laugh and smile and say, "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways."

There were no words that could summarize Hisoka. And that was more than enough.

It was once again Muraki's voice that brought him out of his thoughts.

"Shall I tell you want the boy wants, Tsuzuki-san?"

Silence answered him. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Muraki's lips quirked up a bit as he rubbed his thumb and ring finger together before lifting his hand up to brush a lock of hair from his eyes. The spot underneath Tsuzuki glowed faintly, not bright enough for the occupied shinigami to see. Placing his hands back into the pockets of his white slacks, Muraki rounded Tsuzuki until they were once again facing each other.

Gazing down at the dark haired man, he muttered. "There are many things that your partner wants. Yet� there was one that stood out the most. One� that he had longed to have more than the others."

Suddenly curious, Tsuzuki raised his head and looked up at Muraki, wondering and wanting to know what Hisoka had wanted more than anything.

That was his second mistake.

His third mistake was forgetting the blade that was resting conveniently beside Hisoka's limp hand.

Muraki smiled.

"� He wanted you to leave him alone. He wanted you to stop pretending. Most of all�"

His fourth mistake was not moving out of the way fast enough as he felt the cold blade of the knife slicing through his throat when Hisoka suddenly came back to life.

His first mistake was entering the puppet store.

"� he wanted you to�"

� I want him to go away.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter shouldn't have taken so long to get out but it did. It would have taken longer had I not found this song which gave me what I should have down in this chapter in an instant. Yey for angsty songs!

[1] = Book #3 King of Swords Arc. Tsuzuki is such an awesome character� even more so when he's pissed off, don't you think so?

Am I that unimportant�?
Am I so insignificant�?
Isn't something missing?
Isn't someone missing me?
-- Evanescence - Missing

--------------------------

No human would wish to be forgotten. No human would go through life and not want someone, if only one person, to remember their place in the world. It is the wish of every person to have their friends and family remember them when they are gone. It is the wish of every man, woman and child to be remembered by the ones they loved.

For if they are remembered, they will continue to live on in the memories of their beloved.

It is a lonely thing to be forgotten. It is a sad and tragic thing to not be remembered.

Who would want to be completely forgotten? Who would want to be looked over by those they considered their family and friends?

No one.

No human would wish to be forgotten because every human has the wish to live forever.

--------------------------

There had been many times before where blood had stained his hands. The blood of those he knew and didn't know of. The blood of innocence had stained his hands, his face and his body before. Even his own blood has been poured onto himself. Yet, none of those times would shock him as this one time did. None of those times, those faces and angry voices, would ever compare to the feeling of complete horror that ran through his body as he choked at the blood that was building up in his throat. Falling onto his back, hands clutching at the deep long cut on his throat, Tsuzuki gazed up with wide violet eyes at his partner. Green eyes that used to be brilliant and full of life were now dull and glazed over. Eyes that once would look into his own, as if trying to look deeper behind his smiles were currently looking at him yet he knew they didn't see him. He knew that those eyes could no longer see the difference between friend and foe.

He also knew, at that instant, that he was currently the enemy.

Sticky warm liquid slowly made its way through his fingers and down his hands, soaking into his clothes. It was painful. Shinigami or not, the ability to heal over and over again did not matter because they would always feel the pain. And it was painful. The knife had sliced cleanly through his skin. He choked, trying to get his voice to work as he felt the cut began to heal itself.

"Hi� Hi�"

Behind his dazed partner, Muraki was smiling. It wasn't a pleasant smile or one full of malice. It was a smile that whispered of amusement and of glee for having something to watch. It was a smile that would comfort those who did not know Muraki like he did and send a feeling of unease to those who did. It was a smile that said softly to him: See what I can do. See the things I can control. Is it not wonderful?

And he glared. He glared because he did not find it amusing. He did not find it wonderful or awe inspiring that Muraki could do something like this. That Muraki would only need a single snap of his fingers and Hisoka would so easily be in his control. No, he did not find it the least bit amusing. In fact, it angered him. It enraged him that to this man, this constantly smiling doctor, Hisoka would forever be used as a tool. Hisoka would be nothing more than a toy that could be played with whenever Muraki was bored. He grounded his teeth together as his cut was finally sealed. Lifting his hands from his throat, Tsuzuki slowly raised himself up back onto his feet, eyes never once leaving those of Muraki's.

"Do you wish to know why he would want such a thing, Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki asked pleasantly, as if he hadn't seen Hisoka come back to life only to slice his partner's throat.

Tsuzuki glared, violet eyes burning with anger and hatred as he clenched his hands into tight fists, looking over Hisoka's head at Muraki. "� Hisoka's reason for not wanting me around him doesn't matter to me."

"Oh? Is that so?" An elegant eyebrow rose slightly. "I would have thought that it would matter, Tsuzuki-san, since you care so much for the darling boy. Don't you want to know why? Don't you have the need to know why he would want such a thing?"

He did. He wanted to know. Yet if he said so then he would only leave himself open for more of Muraki's twisting words. He would open himself into doubting things. He was not stupid. He was far from being stupid. He still remembers those words Muraki had told him only the day before.

"We both use him for something."

Yes. It was true. He used Hisoka. Every day, every moment they were together, he was using Hisoka. He used Hisoka for his own selfish needs. Yet, it was different from how Muraki used his partner. I use him. Every time he looks at me� I'm using him. It was different because he was using Hisoka to give himself the sense of being able to do something. He used Hisoka so he could protect him. He used Hisoka so he could help him. He used and used Hisoka over and over again because he wanted to be the one Hisoka would run to. He was selfish. He was a greedy person. I use him so he would only need me. He used Hisoka to give himself hope.

I use him because I want him to need only me.

A chuckle broke him from his thoughts as Muraki slowly made his way towards Hisoka. Willing himself not to jump forward and pull the younger man away, Tsuzuki trembled with anger as Muraki lifted a hand up to brush it against Hisoka's cheek. He watched, reminding himself that his partner was at the moment no longer himself, as an arm clothed in white snaked its way across a slim waist to pull the slender body back against Muraki's own. Tsuzuki's hands shook, his eyes narrowed themselves and the air around him almost crackled with the energy he was building up. Seeing this only seemed to please Muraki even more.

A pale finger ran a trail down Hisoka's brow to his neck, Muraki's lips smiling. "Tsuzuki-san� you had said that you will free him from me." That same finger went lower, moving over the pale skin of Hisoka's chest and stopped near his stomach. And before Tsuzuki's very eyes the telltale sign of Muraki's power over Hisoka began to show. Each red stroke of a curse laughed at Tsuzuki as they brightened more, looking as if they burned yet Hisoka remained still and unmoving.

Move, please. Jerk away. Shout. Yell. Do something. Don't just stand there like that. Please, Hisoka� please.

"Show me."

Amethyst eyes slowly looked away from those curse marks to look into cool pale ones. Muraki repeated himself, his hand rubbing up and down on Hisoka's stomach as if he was a cat.

"Show me, Tsuzuki-san. Show me how you will free him."

Those silver eyes gleamed with desire.

"Show me everything you have."

And then he moved away from Hisoka, crossing his arms across his chest as he spoke once more.

"Show me your desire to free him, Tsuzuki-san."

In a flash, Hisoka rushed forward, catching Tsuzuki off guard as he shoved the older man into the wall.

--------------------------

In the beginning, there was nothing but Darkness. Or so many books had said so. In the beginning, there was nothing but a void of nothingness. And then� and then one day a loud deep voice spoke out commanding there to be Light. And from then on, the world was filled with Light. His world had started out much like that. In the beginning, he saw only darkness. In the beginning, in his young years there was a cloud of darkness blocking his eyes. He could see and yet at the same time he couldn't. And then one day, everything disappeared. And then one day, everything was gone. But in a quick flash, he saw Light. He saw Light and what it was offering to him. He saw faces, strangers he didn't know. He saw faces and heard voices that belonged to those faces. And then he saw the Sun.

He saw the Sun in its bright blue sky and its big beautiful clouds. And when he tried to remember the Darkness, the blinding light of the Sun would hurt him. Until one day, he was finally able to see someone. A person with short gray hair and an old face and that person asked him a question.

"Is your will still strong?"

He was confused yet some how, he knew what that person was asking about. He knew what was asked of him. And without blinking, he nodded. Yes. He wanted to say but found that he had no voice. Yes.

Satisfied with his answer, the old man smiled and nodded back.

"Then you will do." He said. "Then you will be the one."

He was confused once again. But that was not how it went. That was not how his world began.

It was all wrong.

In the beginning, there was nothing but a void. It was a void that was large and empty. It was a void that was created when he was shunned and locked away. It was a void that was created because he was no longer loved and because he was no longer loved, he stopped loving. And because he stopped loving, he no longer cared. And because he no longer cared, he no longer needed any one. And so his world was full of nothing but nothingness. His world was made of nothing but loathing and anger and it created the void. He was happy with the void in his world. He was happy because he needed no one and no one would ever need him.

Again that is wrong. That was not how his world had started.

In the beginning he saw only darkness. In the beginning, he couldn't think, speak or hear anything. He was just surrounded by a warm pool of complete darkness, yet it made him feel safe. He was safe in that warmth. He was protected and nothing could get to him. But then one day, the warmth disappeared and he was blinded by light. He was blinded by brightness and he couldn't do anything and so he cried. He cried and cried and he was so cold. And as he continued to cry and shiver from the cold, he opened his eyes and he saw someone looking down at him. He whimpered and opened his eyes and saw a face looming over his own. He saw a face of a person who was currently crying also. He saw a face that was currently flushed pink with tears streaming down their face and he instantly fell in love with that person.

He opened his eyes, saw that person and fell deeply in love with them. He fell in love with that person because she was the first thing he saw in the light. He fell in love with her because she had kept him warm when he was shivering. He fell in love with her because she had the same warmth around her like the place he had been in. He fell in love with her because she was holding him, hugging him, kissing him and was crying silently against his cheek as she muttered words he didn't understand.

And as time passed by, he continued to love her. He continued to feel warm around her and he continued to want sleep with her arms around his body. And as time passed by he started to understand what she was saying. He started to try to speak back to her, to say that he loved her and he never wanted to be away from her. And as he started to understand and spoke in broken words, he started to walk. And he would follow her everywhere she went. He would hold onto the hem of her robe and try to keep up with her as she walked through out the household.

And as time passed by, he would notice that she hadn't stopped crying. As time passed by and he continued to learn how to walk better, speak better and understand words more, he noticed that she would look at him and cry. Sometimes he would ask her and she would shake her head. Sometimes he would ask her and she would get up and leave him. And sometimes he would start to cry with her. And there would be times where he couldn't find her anywhere. There would be times where he would wander through the house and he wouldn't be able to see her in any of the rooms. And when he would ask no one would tell him anything. When he would tug on a hand or pull at a robe, they would only smile and tell him to go play. They didn't tell him where she was, never once would they say anything about her.

Until one day, she appeared again. Until one day as he was sitting alone in the tea room, his eyes looking out at the garden, she came in silently and sat down next to him. Until one day she'd come back to him and he'd turn around, his eyes wide as he looked up at her. And she'd gaze back down at him with a smile on her face. And then he'd asked her�

"Where did Mother go?"

And she'd smiled and lifted her hand to run it through his hair, her voice soft as she replied. "Mother was sick."

He'd reached out then, putting his short arms around her as best as he could as he whispered against her warmth. "Don't get sick again."

And she'd rubbed his back, her other hand still on his head as she complied. "Mother won't get sick again."

"Don't get sick again� Hisoka was worried."

She'd promised him she wouldn't get sick again. But she lied. She lied and as more time passed by, she started to disappear again. She wouldn't come to him when he called for her. And soon, the sickness had spread through out the household. And soon, the sickness had even caught him because he was able to hear things he wasn't supposed to. He was able to know things he shouldn't have known and they all said he was sick. And she wouldn't come near him at all.

And there would be times where he was put away; locked up in a cold and dark room all by himself and all he could hear were the strange sounds in the darkness and feel the cold biting hands of the air around him. Sometimes, people would come by. Whenever he was locked away for long periods of time, they would come and bring him food or to clean him. None of them ever stayed long though. They would leave the moment they were done. He learned to ignore them then. He learned to not care about them. He learned to not want to cry for them to stay longer when they rose to leave the room. He learned to dull the pain in his chest whenever he felt like crying.

He learned how to not feel in that room. He became so good at not feeling, that when his Mother did come, he did not feel any joy when he looked up into her face. He did not feel any longing when he heard her voice. He did not feel like crying when she uttered in her soft voice the words that should have broken him up.

"Why was a child like you ever born?"

He only gazed up into her eyes, eyes that once were affectionate and caring, and wondered, why was a child like me ever born?

And then suddenly he finally hit the hard floor, gasping out as the breath was knocked out of his chest.

--------------------------

Dull green eyes gazed unblinking up into shocked violets. The clash of pale on tan, white on dark, evergreen on velvet violet was a beautiful sight to behold. He was never a man to overlook the beauty of things. Always, he would find the time to stand still and admire a statue, watch the colors on a tapestry or listen to the beautiful music played by the graceful hands of a geisha stringing a koto. Oriya had once commented that he had a weakness for beautiful things and he, being no one else but him, had replied that beautiful things should be gazed upon, should be touched, tasted and felt. For if a thing of beauty was not something that a man could enjoy, then why would it be considered as something beautiful?

The man before him was beautiful. Dark brown locks of hair cascading down a strong face with twin violet eyes that burn with an intense passion whenever he was angered. He wanted to see that beauty. He wanted to see that burning passion. He wanted to hold it, grasp it in his hands, touch it and taste it and see that burning anger up close. There were so many ways to cause that passion to arise in those eyes. So many simple and easy things to cause Tsuzuki to gaze at him with that look, but none of them satisfied him. None of them was enough; none of them resembled that passion in those eyes like the first time they'd fought against each other.

That boy, nothing more than a child still, had caused that intense passion to arise in those beautiful eyes. It amused him, how something he had once touched and bloodied could stir such anger in someone like Tsuzuki. It confused him how a mere child like that troublesome boy could cause that passion that he wanted for himself only. At first, he had thought nothing of it that Tsuzuki was clearly a man who cared deeply for others, stupid as that is. Yet he was wrong. It was true that the other man did care for others but that one time, that one instant had proved him wrong.

The glass was capable of withstanding cannonballs and yet Tsuzuki had cleanly cracked it into a million tiny designs of spider webs with only one punch. And that look on his face. That look of an enraged animal trying to break free to get at its enemy, or was that prey? [1]

He watched them through indifferent eyes. He watched as Tsuzuki tried to call out for his partner, trying to bring him back to his senses and his lip quirked a bit. People were strange at times. Even though they knew it would be useless, people would still try to find the light at the end of the tunnel. They would try, using whatever means they had to, to reach that promising light. Tsuzuki was trying right now. With his pleading eyes and his earnest voice, Tsuzuki was trying desperately to reach his partner.

Did the man not know that the boy no longer had his own thoughts? Is he not looking into those dull green eyes right now and see nothing in them?

"Hi-Hisoka!"

He smiled. Perhaps not.

"Tsuzuki-san." He started casually, as if he didn't see Hisoka lifting the blade in his hands once more only to drive it down and into Tsuzuki's chest.

The sound of a choked gurgling filled the room as he spoke up once again.

"Tsuzuki-san� have you ever heard of the story of a puppet named Pinocchio?" He did not expect an answer to his question, so he continued on. "Pinocchio was made of wood, you see. Crafted and sanded by the hands of a man named Geppetto. Geppetto was a lonely man for he has no children of his own. He crafted Pinocchio as his son, a son which will not speak to him. Yet he wished, if it was only a foolish one that the wooden puppet would one day be able to speak back to him."

As he spoke, Muraki turned around, heading back towards where Veronica was sitting. Picking the slightly burnt doll up into his hands, he cleaned her face with his thumb. Gazing into those fake green eyes, he continued on.

"However, one night, his wish would be granted. A fairy came and with the touch of her wand, she gave the puppet known as Pinocchio life. However, he was still made of wood. Not of flesh or blood, but of something hard and dead. He had no veins in which blood could flow through. He did not need air to breath life into his body. He did not need food to keep him going. He was not a living thing; he was nothing more than an imitation of something."

He turned back, the doll still in his hands as he watched the scene before him uncaringly. Still pressed up against the wall, Tsuzuki was struggling against Hisoka. Pale hands bloodied with the blood of his partner, the boy that had once cried and screamed at him was currently diving the blade over and over again into the one person who was the first to reach out to him. His eyes narrowed then. The man before him would never know what a big impact he was in the boy's life. He would never know just how by reaching out and being there for the boy meant to the child.

Like a dog that has been kicked too many times, Hisoka has built a shield around himself. Slowly, over the years of his life, the boy had taught himself not to flinch or whimper at the hinting of hatred. Like a dog that has learnt its lesson, Hisoka has deadened himself to those around him. The boy was like a lost dog that has been thrown out of its home. Wandering around the streets of the world, he has learned that humans were not as great beings as they put themselves up to be. He has lost all of his hope in humans, the boy. Teaching himself to bite the hands that would dare come too near, the boy had learned to protect himself.

Yet, Tsuzuki had slowly and surely reached out to pet him. He was sure that Hisoka had put up a good fight against those slender fingers that tried to touch him. He was positive that Tsuzuki had failed more than once while trying to prove to the boy that not all humans were like those who have raised him. And even through the years of mistrust placed on those around him, the shield that protected the boy's beliefs was slowly breaking. Around its edges, small cracks were forming. By just reaching out and doing nothing more, Tsuzuki done more than anyone ever could.

That was where he came in. The man that had pinned that slender child down and placed a binding on that pale body so that they would forever be connected, he would not stand around while something he had put much effort into was slowly cracking. Oh, they would never hear it and the boy would deny it a million times over if asked but it was Hisoka himself that had called out to Muraki.

It amused him when he had heard it, that faint sound at the back of his head. It was like the sound of water dripping from a distance. You know it is there, yet you can not pinpoint exactly where it is. He did not know when it had started, that small plea from Hisoka. Yes, it was a plea, a small whimpering from a dog that was frightened of those strange hands that were reaching out to touch it. It was the whine of a dog that was unsure if those hands would raise up to hit it. It was the whimpering of a puppy that wanted to believe that its owner has finally came back to shower nothing but loving affection onto it. It was a plea mixed with fear, hope and longing that was held together by doubt.

While part of Hisoka wanted to believe in Tsuzuki, there was also a part of him that didn't. There was a part of him that wanted the man before him to disappear; there was a part of him that wanted to bite back still, to bite harder so he would scare Tsuzuki away. There was so much doubt in that boy's mind. There was a part of him thinking that if he let those hands touch him, they would turn around and smack him across the face.

Human beings truly are interesting creatures. While having the desire to be saved, they would still rather be left alone in their misery rather than to be hurt once again.

Yet, that was not the reason why he was here, no.

"Do you wish to know what that puppet wanted the most, Tsuzuki-san?"

He was here to once again prove to Hisoka that he is nothing more than a shell of what someone wanted him to be.

That he was nothing more than a boy that would forever be used as a marionette by other people.

"He wished to become a real boy."

--------------------------

Someone was crying. In the back of his mind, he could hear them. The soft sniffing that sounded muffled because of the hands covering their mouth; someone was crying. Somewhere he could hear a person crying, a soft sniffing sound that spoke of how that person was trying hard not to cry too loudly for fear of something.

It took awhile for him to be able to lift himself up, the fall being abrupt and sudden that it shocked any movement from him. There was a dull pounding in the back of his head and he rubbed it gently as he slowly opened his eyes.

Nothing.

He saw complete nothingness. Correction; he saw a door. Rubbing his temple with a slight frown on his face, Hisoka slowly made his way towards the door.

Someone was still crying. Yet, he pushed the door open, thinking that if he did, he would find however was crying behind it. However, that was not what he found. Instead, he found himself standing inside the office of the Shokan Division.

What�? Is this a dream�?

Frowning once more, letting out a soft sigh, he made his way to his desk. Resting his elbows on the hard surface, Hisoka placed his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes against the butt of his palms roughly. Was that� was that all a dream? How did I get back here? Was I just daydreaming? But� why would I daydream about something like that? Opening his eyes slightly, gazing down at the dull grey surface of the desk, he frowned. � What's going on?

That was when he noticed it; a small note on his desk telling him that there was a staff meeting going on and that he'd better go before the Chief got angry. Letting out another sigh, muttering under his breath about him being late for a meeting instead of Tsuzuki for a change, Hisoka pushed himself out of his chair and made his way towards the closed door of the meeting room. It was cast in darkness, the overhead lights turned off so that the Chief could show the slides of the cases they were to investigate. Seating himself in the back, he rested his elbow on the desk before him as he looked at each and every image before him. However, he could not find himself paying much attention to anything Konoe was currently telling them.

His mind was elsewhere, pondering still over his strange daydream. Why� why would I have a daydream like that?

There was a click and suddenly his vision was blinded for a moment before everything was clear again. He saw Tsuzuki then. He saw Tsuzuki standing up and smiled brightly as he looked up at him. � Always smiling. I wonder why you keep smiling like that� even when your eyes seem so sad. As Tsuzuki made his way towards him, Hisoka stood up, waiting to hear his partner jump and bounce around him, throwing questions in ever direction and him trying to answer them all in order. It was annoying, yes, but at the same time, it felt� nice. It felt� almost normal to have someone worry over him like this. To have someone� to have someone care enough to bother him like this.

So he stood, waiting for Tsuzuki to start yapping about in his hyper ways.

"You're late, kid! Good thing Kachou was too busy yelling at me for being late and didn't notice that you came in late too."

The twitching of his brow had somehow become almost second nature whenever it concerned Tsuzuki. It was currently twitching, his brow, as he glared up at his partner for calling him a kid. Running a hand through his hair, he opened his mouth to reply.

"Don't call me---"

"My name is Asuka!"

His eyes shot open. W-what? Turning around, Hisoka found himself faced with a boy around his age. However, it must be his eyes still trying to adjust to the sudden light; he couldn't make out the other boy's face. What� what's going on here? Turning back around, he looked back up at Tsuzuki. Who� you're� you're talking to me, right? Aren't you? � Aren't you Tsuzuki?

However, his partner only laughed and reached for his jacket. "I'll call you Asuka as long as you stop calling me senpai."

Sen� senpai? Asuka? � Tsuzuki� I'm� I'm your partner!

Tsuzuki didn't seem to notice him, however, as he went along his way, chatting animatedly with Asuka. Hisoka stood there, dumbfounded as he watched Tsuzuki walk away from him. He stood there with his eyes wide open as he watched Tsuzuki walk side by side with a person who was not him. He watched as Tsuzuki walk away with his partner who wasn't named Kurosaki Hisoka, but Asuka.

And then he called out to Tsuzuki.

"Tsuzuki!!"

Tsuzuki kept walking.

"Tsuzuki!!" I'm here! I'm right here!

Tsuzuki didn't hear him.

"Tsuzuki!!!" I'm your partner!

Tsuzuki didn't turn around.

"Tsuzuki!!!" Don't� don't leave me.

Tsuzuki laughed at Asuka.

"TSUZUKI!!!" Can't� can't you hear me?

Tsuzuki opened the door.

"TSUZUKI!!!" Why� why can't you see me?

Tsuzuki left, not even turning back to look at him once.

Somewhere, he continued to hear someone crying.