Blossoms and Blood: chapters 28+
Fandom: Anime/Manga » Yami no Matsuei
Author: lyrebird (clare.chew@gmail.com)
Genre: lemon

Thanks, as always, to Gengkotsuya for her assistance.

---

Suzaku, the Guardian of the South, was waiting. Resplendent in her brilliant red cheongsam trimmed with gold thread, she waited by the watchtower overlooking the South Gate of Tenkuu Palace. Each time Tsuzuki summoned one of them to the land of the living, she would go to her little tower above the gate to wait.

Of all the shikigami who resided within Tenkuu's walls, none longed to be summoned as much as Suzaku.

Being exiled from the land of the living had hit her the hardest. As the Red Bird, she had to curb her powers the most. Gensoukai was meant to be a paradise of order and harmony. Such a virtual Garden of Eden had no use for the incendiary vandalism of Fire.

So she waited to be summoned every hour, every day. She waited with folded wings that ached with the memory of scorching flight. She waited dressed in beautiful gowns, with her long hair elaborately made up in a mixture of braids and extravagant fringes. Always waiting.

Tsuzuki would summon her soon. Perhaps it would be with a traditional prayer that brought glory to her name. Perhaps it would be an inchoate scream of pure anguish so terrible it would weaken the barrier between Gensoukai and the land of the living, enabling her and the other major shikigami to descend en masse and wreak the vengeance the world so richly deserved.

Either way, it mattered little to Suzaku. Shikigami love was not like human love. It was not dependent on flimsy variables such as character or behaviour or physical form. It was fixed, unyielding, eternal.

Which was why she never forgave Touda for nearly incinerating Tsuzuki in Kyoto. Foolish Touda. Touda did not understand what Tsuzuki was to them. But most of the minor shikigami had no idea.

Tsuzuki was not just a master, an occasional visitor, a supplicant who sought favours when it suited him.

He was kin.

At the South Gate entrance, the morning air shimmered and glowed. A dark mass appeared, gathering mass and form. The odour of dank soil and acrid sulphur filled the air.

Suzaku inhaled deeply. For all its virtual perfection, the scents of Gensoukai were a pallid imitation to the rich smells of the real world.

Genbu's basalt carapace and scales glistened in the morning sunlight. He arched his long neck into a courtly bow. "Good day to you, Sister of the South."

"Good day to you, Venerable Lord of the North." The ritual greeting came easily to her lips yet her eyes glittered with envy, for she knew Genbu had been Tsuzuki's favourite of late. "What a rare pleasure to see you in your battle armour."

"Thank you. It has been too long." Genbu lifted his craggy horned head to see her properly, and his scales clinked with his movements. "I bring great news."

"What news?"

Genbu bared his teeth in a smile. "We, the guardians of the four compass points, must make way for a fifth."

"Fifth?" Suzaku leaned forward. "Do you mean--"

Genbu nodded. "The Jade Hare's overtures have been favorably received. The Guardian of the Centre - the alpha and omega, the beginning and the end - is stirring once more. Soon he shall return to dance among us again."

Suzaku leapt from the watchtower and transformed herself into her true form. Flapping her vermillion wings, she swooped across the sky to spread the news far and wide in glorious song.

---

Hisoka wasn't at his desk. His denim jacket hung on the back of his chair.

Tsuzuki noticed the empty in-tray and the computer on standby. This was only a temporary reprieve - Hisoka would be back soon enough.

And he still had no idea how to explain everything. How could he tell Hisoka that he was responsible for creating the Muraki who had cursed and raped him? How could he explain the twisted symbiotic relationship he had shared with Muraki for the past five nights?

What, if anything, could be gained by bringing to light such horrible truths?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Tsuzuki went to his own desk. He rummaged through the drawers for a spare pair of black leather gloves. A flimsy barrier, but better than nothing. He couldn't risk unleashing his Wood powers on a rash whim.

As for handling Hisoka, he would revert to his modus operandi: grovel and apologise, and hope Hisoka could find it in his heart to forgive, if not understand.

The office door slid open. Gushoshin Younger swept in, feathered arms flapping wildly. "Tsuzuki-san! Tsuzuki-san! I tried to look up those things for you: a demon that uses light, any history of insurgency under Duke Ashitarote--"

"I remember." These were the questions he had asked yesterday. It felt like a lifetime ago - a lifetime in which all the wrongs in all the worlds could be blamed on demonic interference. "Did you find anything?"

"No, because my database access was terminated! What am I to do? How can I be a librarian without access to the JuOhCho network?" He hovered before Tsuzuki's face in mid-air, a finger pointed squarely at his forehead. "This is all your fault, Tsuzuki-san!"

"Huh? How were you terminated? You've got a high security clearance, right? And you know your way around the various firewalls--"

"Of course I do!" Gushoshin Younger bobbed up and down, flapping even harder. "But I opened this old file that seemed relevant - and my screen went black! I lost access to the network! My hard drive has been wiped clean! All the work I've been doing on the demon database is gone! And it's all your fault--"

Tsuzuki held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "All right! Calm down a minute, will you? What happened again? You opened some file--"

"Yes!" Gushoshin stopped flapping. "The file must have been booby-trapped in some way...but why? Why would the Akasha supercomputer do such a thing?"

Tsuzuki closed the office door. "What file was it?"

Gushoshin looked around nervously, then perched himself on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "I found nothing about a demon radiating light, but there are records of a failed revolt against Ashitarote centuries ago," he muttered. "It was led by a demon that claimed mastery over Wind."

"A Wind demon? But no demon today uses Wind!"

Gushoshin nodded. "After the revolt was crushed, there is not a single reference to a Wind demon in our records."

So there had been in-fighting, perhaps an all-out war. Fire versus Wind - the complementary manifestation of elemental Metal. And somehow Fire had prevailed.

"So what's this demon's name?"

"That's what I was looking for when I opened that damn file! The name was never written in any of the records! The records refer to him as a dragon who answers those who call on him."

Tsuzuki frowned. "Sounds more like a shikigami than a demon..."

The door slid open, startling them both. Gushoshin Elder hovered in the doorway.

"What are you both doing? Younger Brother, you were told to bring Tsuzuki to the conference room! There's a new assignment in Second Block."

"Ah, yes! I was just about to tell him!" Gushoshin Younger lowered his voice for Tsuzuki's ears alone. "Tread carefully when you go in there. The Chief is in a bad mood, and Hisoka-san and Tatsumi-san don't look too happy either."

---

There were certain advantages in being late. No obligation to make small talk. No awkward silences while you waited for proceedings to get underway.

At the head of the table, Chief Konoe stared down at him like a judge ready to pass sentence. Seated on the left, Tatsumi gave him the briefest of nods. On his right, Hisoka didn't glance his way.

Tsuzuki quickly slunk into a chair at the far end of the table, the side nearest to the projector screen. As long as he kept his gaze on the slide presentation, he wouldn't be inflicting the sight of his face on anyone.

"Dim the lights, Gushoshin Elder," Konoe snapped. "Gushoshin Younger, distribute the background dossier. Now that everyone is finally present, please begin, Tatsumi."

A colour slide flashed on the screen.

Gushoshin Younger floated over to Tsuzuki. "Your case notes, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki didn't hear him.

Up on the screen, their faces magnified for everyone in the room to see, were three people. One was a man in his sixties with grey streaks in his hair, the other was a woman of similar age. Between them was a young woman in her late teens. With beaming faces, they posed proudly outside their family business - a ramen restaurant.

It was Norata-san and his family.

But why were they of interest to Meifu? Unless EnmaCho already knew about their connection to Muraki...

"We have received orders to investigate a case involving an irregularity in the Kiseki. These three individuals in the Nagasaki area have failed to die as expected, leading to a delay in the JuOhCho court proceedings. Kurosaki-kun and Tsuzuki-san, your task will be to find them and ensure their souls are summoned to Meifu for judgement."

---

The sky was clouded over by the time Tsuzuki and Hisoka materialised in Nagasaki's Shianbashi district. The air was humid and stifling. Cicadas droned in the distance.

Hisoka studied the map he held in front of him. "It must be down this alleyway."

Tsuzuki let him lead the way.

It was the first time Hisoka had spoken to him after their briefing. No greeting, not even a nod to say hello. In all likelihood, Hisoka would only speak to him when absolutely necessary.

Hisoka knew how to bottle up his feelings, but he wasn't very good at hiding them. He hadn't yet learned how to put on a guise of calm composure and talk about anything other than the one thing that was eating him up inside. Involuntarily he gave himself away in a myriad of little signs: his white-knuckled grip over the map, his lowered gaze that refused to look Tsuzuki's way, the ramrod straight back, the hunched tension in his narrow shoulders.

They couldn't work together like this, and Chief Konoe knew it. His stern unyielding gaze had said it all. The leash was being tightened to teach him a lesson.

Sending them out on this particular assignment was an ingenious form of punishment. The sordid truth of his liaisons with Muraki would be revealed. Most likely he'd have to confront Muraki himself - and after their last encounter, Muraki wanted nothing to do with him. Three innocent people would have to die. And when it was all over, Hisoka would want nothing to do with him either.

It was brilliant, really. The faceless bureaucrats of Enmacho couldn't have devised a more exquisitely humiliating sentence for him.

So, like a man being escorted to the firing squad, Tsuzuki walked behind Hisoka. Through the maze of alleyways they went, sidestepping the motorbikes and delivery trucks that rumbled by, past kitchens with clattering pots and pachinko parlours with rattling metal balls, until they came to a modest little restaurant crammed between a convenience store and a run-down bar.

The curtains were drawn, the doors shut.

Tsuzuki slowly let out the breath he'd been holding. A temporary stay of execution.

"Shianbashi comes to life at night," he explained, "so many businesses here only open up in the evenings. We might have better luck if we come back later..." Tsuzuki's voice faded off.

There was a definite spiritual presence in the air. He could feel it around him - weak at first, then gradually increasing in strength. It was sinking lower, close to the ground.

Unaware of Tsuzuki's distraction, Hisoka went up to the door. "According to the sign here, it should be open for business." He noticed a piece of wrinkled paper stuck to the door. "Closed due to family illness. Apologies for any inconvenience."

From behind a garbage bin, Muraki's large grey cat poked its head out.

"He needs you," it mewed. "His mind is in turmoil. He is in danger of losing his way."

Tsuzuki froze. "What?"

Hisoka turned around, looking at him for the first time. "The place is shut because someone's ill," he repeated patiently. "What should we do?"

"Go to him." The cat prowled towards Tsuzuki, tail high in the air. "He needs you. He needs the refuge of your wings." It rubbed itself against his legs. "He needs the guidance of the Light!"

Nervously Tsuzuki looked from Hisoka to the cat, and back again. "Can you hear...anything unusual?"

"Glory be to the Light!" the cat cried. "All hail its immeasurable brilliance!"

"Like what?" Hisoka asked impatiently. "A yowling cat on heat?"

An old man came out of the bar next door. Bleary-eyed and dishevelled, he lurched over to the restaurant door. "Is it still shut?" he asked them. "Shit."

Hisoka wrinkled his nose at the stench of stale beer, and stepped aside. "Are you a regular customer?"

"Yeah, I come here all the time. Norata's tonkatsu ramen is a great hangover cure." He squinted through the glass. "But the place has been shut for two days now. Poor girl. She must be doing pretty bad."

"You mean Norata-san's daughter?" Tsuzuki asked.

"Yeah. She came down with this big fever and they took her straight to hospital."

"Which one?"

"No idea. But she's always been the sickly type - heart trouble or something. Bloody miracle she's made it this far." The man shrugged. "Well, that's life for you. Only the good die young, huh?"

Hisoka's green gaze flashed. "While the wicked and corrupt live to a ripe old age?"

The man blinked, then burst out laughing. "Hey, it's not my fault I'm still standing after all these years!"

"Let's go, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said gently.

Hisoka strode right past him, chestnut head bent, cheeks flushed with anger.

"He is with them," the cat mewed. "Go to him. He needs you. He needs the nourishing Light!"

Tsuzuki stepped away from the cat. Muraki needed his power, that was all. Muraki didn't care about him or his needs. Judging by their last encounter, Muraki would be pleased to see the back of him...unless he needed to feed again.

But with the Norata family involved, an ugly confrontation was inevitable.

Ignoring the ache between his shoulder blades, Tsuzuki hastily thanked the old man then hurried after his partner.

"Hang on, Hisoka! Wait up!"

Hisoka slowed his pace, but refused to turn around.

Tsuzuki reached his side. "There's only so many hospitals in Nagasaki. It won't take too long to find them."

Hisoka didn't speak. Within the pockets of his jacket, his hands clenched into fists.

"That old guy had no idea who we were. It was just a careless remark. You mustn't take it personally."

Hisoka whirled on him. "Should I follow your example then? Put on a goofy smile and act as if everything's fine, when all along you've been investigating him without me?" He couldn't bring himself to speak the detested name aloud - but they both knew there was only one person who could fill Hisoka with such active hatred. "Well, forgive me for not being as good an actor as you!"

Tsuzuki flinched as if he'd been struck. "I guess I deserve that. So how long have you known?"

Hisoka's accusing gaze spared him no quarter. "I suspected something was up ever since that morning tea when you brought in the sweets. Watari revealed the truth when I confronted him last night. So how long were you going to keep me in the dark?"

Tsuzuki hung his head. It was easier to look at Hisoka's scuffed sneakers than meet his eyes. "All I wanted to do was protect you from his influence--"

"Protect me? So you told Watari instead. Tatsumi never said anything, but it wouldn't surprise me if you told him as well. Which means the only person who was left out of the loop - the only person so weak he had to be 'protected' from the truth - was me." Hisoka's voice wavered a little, betraying the effort it took to keep himself under control. "If you thought I was so useless, you should've just asked for a new partner."

It was getting worse and worse. "I never said you were useless--"

"You didn't have to. Your actions speak louder than words." Hisoka's voice was quiet, yet brutal.

"I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry." The words seemed woefully inadequate.

Hisoka must've thought so too, for he continued speaking regardless. "I never asked to be protected! I don't want to be treated different from everyone else because I'm younger or shorter or whatever!" He turned away and shook his head, embarrassed at how needy and desperate he sounded. "All I ever wanted was for you to be upfront and honest with me, instead of hiding your true self behind a grinning mask!"

The words, an eerie echo of Muraki's own, startled Tsuzuki out of his shame.

You are the lord and owner of many faces, and like a miser you jealously guard each and every one.

"My true self," he repeated in a low voice. "I'm not sure who that is anymore. And even if I did, I don't think you'd want to know him."

"Oh yeah?" Hisoka lifted his jaw in defiance. "Try me."

A sea breeze drifted through the alley. It ruffled the strands of Hisoka's feathery chestnut hair and made his T-shirt cling against his slim torso, emphasising his youthful physique. Yet the unspoken challenge in his fierce green eyes hinted at something entirely different - a proud and stubborn spirit, fearless to the point of reckless abandon.

There was a bewitching appeal about strength of will married to physical vulnerability. Too bewitching. Deep down, Tsuzuki longed to subdue it, tame it...

Break it.

Wariness crept into Hisoka's gaze, yet he calmly stood his ground, waiting...

Waiting to be led like a lamb to the slaughter.

Tsuzuki looked away first. His throat was dry, his heart pounding. His shoulder blades itched.

"I need a cold drink. Let's sit down in a teahouse, and I'll fill you in."

If Hisoka sensed something amiss, he chose to keep it to himself. "All right."

---

Tatsumi sat at his desk. His accounts ledger was open in front of him. Figures written neatly in red ink lined the columns - debts dutifully carried over from the month before.

But for once, it didn't matter. The Shoukanka could sink in a sea of red there and then, and he wouldn't have cared less.

His hand froze, the ballpoint pen less than an inch from the page. The shadow of his hand wavered underneath.

He put down his pen, removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Control. He needed control. Without control, his kagetsu powers would cause nothing but chaos.

But he'd been holding himself in check for so long. Too long. How long was he expected to watch and wait?

A knock at the door roused him to the present. It was Konoe, muttering about budget cuts and the shortage of stationery supplies. To prevent further misuse and waste, all supplies were kept in a locked cupboard. Naturally, only one person in the department could be trusted with the key.

"I need the key to the stationery cupboard. I need a new stapler. My old one is jammed."

Tatsumi retrieved his glasses. "Since you're in the office next door, you can come over here and use my stapler, Chief."

With a sigh, Chief Konoe trudged inside with his stack of documents. He'd expected to be turned down. He took the proffered stapler, then stopped short.

"I know you're unhappy about this assignment. Unfortunately, orders are orders - and these are from the top."

"I'm well aware of it." Tatsumi carefully pushed his glasses up his nose. "Did I raise any objection at the time?"

Konoe ignored the defensive question. "You're concerned about them, aren't you?"

"As secretary of the Shoukanka, the welfare of all employees in this department is my highest priority--"

Konoe's craggy features softened. "You don't fool anyone, least of all me. You worry about us all." He stapled his sheaf of papers with a distinct snap and handed the stapler back. "Some more than others."

The old man didn't miss a thing.

"It's not my intention to play favourites." Tatsumi picked up his pen. "If you believe I have been too lenient with certain members of staff, then please feel free to inform me."

Konoe went to the window. Standing with his back to Tatsumi, he gazed out at the rows of sakura trees shedding their pink blossoms. "I'm not speaking of Tsuzuki. You dote on him, naturally enough. Nearly everyone does. Mind you, he has no idea of the effect he has on us...which is just as well, in any case." Konoe cleared his throat. "No, I speak of the boy."

Tatsumi's hand froze. "He approached me for assistance. He was upset about his inability to sense Tsuzuki's emotions, and feared his empathic abilities were detrimental to their partnership. Under the circumstances, I felt it was my duty to bolster his confidence--"

Konoe turned around, arms folded. "By teaching him a little kagetsu magic? Were you given dispensation to bequeath your abilities to him?" "I taught him nothing of significance," Tatsumi replied stiffly. "Merely a simple mental technique to limit his vulnerability to strong emotions, that's all."

Konoe sighed. "I can't believe I must give you the same warning I gave Tsuzuki. Your kagetsu powers have been granted to you by EnmaDaiOh for a specific purpose - to watch over Tsuzuki and keep his powers in check when necessary. Your failure to protect EnmaCho when Tsuzuki lost his mind during the Kyoto case has already been recorded against you. You cannot afford another black mark to your name. Sharing your powers with another without gaining the proper authorisation is asking for trouble!"

"I know, Chief. But it's a risk I'm willing to take for Kurosaki-kun's sake. I don't want him to make the same mistakes I made when I was Tsuzuki-san's partner."

"Hmph." Konoe's expression was sceptical.

Tatsumi began writing in his ledger. No doubt Konoe could see right through him.

In so many ways, Kurosaki-kun reminded him of himself: proud and determined, fiercely independent, reluctant to admit to weakness of any kind...and driven by deep-seated insecurity. Someone had to give Kurosaki-kun the encouragement and approval he subconsciously craved. Someone who understood him well.

Miffed by Tatsumi's silence, Konoe decided to retreat. "Very well, then," he muttered. "But remember your position within the organisation. Your guidance to Kurosaki-kun, although well-intended, is contingent upon you holding down your current post. If I were you, I would be paying more attention to my official responsibilities."

Tatsumi did not look up. Nevertheless, once Konoe had left, Tatsumi's shadows gathered around him, quivering in restless agitation.

---

In a small booth of an air-conditioned teahouse, Tsuzuki and Hisoka were drinking iced tea. With coat removed and tie loosened, Tsuzuki had downed two glasses of sweet apple tea, and was halfway through a third. In contrast, Hisoka was taking slow sips from his one and only glass of unsweetened green tea. He was in no hurry, for as far as he was concerned, Tsuzuki was the one who owed him a lengthy explanation.

Tsuzuki knew it too. So he had obliged up to a point. He explained his suspicions about Muraki's false eye being part of a contract, and their chance meeting in Nagasaki with Norata-san. He described Muraki's flourishing Metal powers, and his worsening anaemic pallor. He did his best to stick to the hypotheses and facts, while avoiding the subjective and personal.

What he did with Muraki was no one else's business.

"Is that why you asked Watari to test Muraki's hair samples for minerals?"

"Yes, and the lab results confirm it." Tsuzuki took a long swallow of his drink. "Somehow Muraki is cannabilising his mineral stores to generate elemental Metal power. It's as if...as if he's got the ability to convert the matter in Metal into pure energy."

Across the table, Hisoka was leaning his jaw in one upraised hand. "So in the end he'll die of mineral deficiency. He can then be judged by the JuOhCho courts, and all his victims will get the justice we've been waiting for. Isn't that a good outcome for everyone?"

Tsuzuki blinked. He wasn't expecting such indifference. "Err...you do have a point. But with his growing power, he's capable of causing even more chaos and destruction in the meantime. The authorities in the land of the living have no idea how to deal with him. We have a responsibility to stop him now, not sit around and wait for him to die."

Hisoka paused in mid-sip. "We?" he repeated dryly. "I don't remember being a part of this investigation."

"I was going to tell you - honest! But I needed to gather enough evidence to show the Chief - to convince him to reopen the case." He noticed Hisoka's sceptical look. "He didn't approve of what I was up to - he gave me veiled threats to stop. Tatsumi too."

Hisoka lowered his gaze. "So Tatsumi-san knew all along." With his straw, he jabbed at the ice in his glass.

"He had an idea, yeah. But I haven't told them everything I've uncovered yet." Tsuzuki cast an uncertain glance at him, then returned to his almost-empty glass. The heat within him had eased somewhat, but his shoulder blades still tingled and burned. "I'm sure he only kept quiet about it to protect you."

Hisoka crushed the straw in his fingers. "I already said I don't want to be protected by him or you or anyone! Why do all of you...keep..." The anger simmering inside him bubbled to the surface once more, choking his speech. "...keep treating me like a child?!"

Tsuzuki resisted the instinctive urge to apologise again. Appeasement would only serve to inflame Hisoka further. He straightened in his seat, ignoring the way it stretched the sensitive skin over his upper back. "That's untrue. If we honestly thought you were a child, I wouldn't have taught you how to make your own fuda charms, Chief Konoe wouldn't have taught you how to create spiritual barriers...and I doubt Tatsumi would've trained you in the shadow arts either."

Hisoka's green eyes glinted with annoyance, but his temper did ease a fraction. "But I'm not an equal, am I? I'll never be on the same level as the rest of you."

"You haven't been a shinigami as long as the rest of us, so naturally you lack the same experience. But that doesn't mean we think any less of you." Tsuzuki tilted his head to one side. "Why does the idea of us protecting you from harm disturb you so much?"

Hisoka pulled up the sleeve of his denim jacket to reveal his forearm. "Where were you all when I was cursed by that bastard? Where were you when he assaulted me?"

Tsuzuki dropped his gaze. It was a question he had often wondered himself.

"No one was there. No one cared." Hisoka shrugged. "But that's been the story of my life. The one thing I've learnt is that it's up to me to look after myself. I don't want or need the false promise of anyone's protection, no matter how well-intended."

Tsuzuki inwardly flinched at the barb. Hisoka had thrown the same accusation at him during the case involving the violinist Hijiri. He'd tried to allay Hijiri's anxiety with cheery reassurances, yet Hisoka had pointedly refused to do the same. And he'd been right, of course.

But there was something particularly galling about being caught out four years later.

Seated in the same booth, they may as well have been sitting on opposite sides of a canyon, such was the yawning gulf of distrust between them. The five years together as partners, five years in which he'd patiently tried to win over Hisoka's trust and confidence - all for nothing. In spite of being master to so many shikigami, in spite of the power he held - both innate and acquired - there was nothing he could do or say to change Hisoka's mind.

So he didn't try. Instead he studied Hisoka's arm, and the faint red script that was visible to those with the spiritual awareness to detect it. "They seem less obvious than before, huh?"

"They come and go. When Muraki is near, they glow bright red. Then come the dreams." Sudden realisation made Hisoka sit up. "But I haven't experienced any of the signs this time around. I had no idea he was back until I saw those hair samples!"

"Good, for you've suffered enough already thanks to him." Tsuzuki finished the rest of his drink. "It's a sign that his ability to influence you through the curse is waning."

"You think?" Hisoka pulled up the sleeve of his other arm, more bemused than pleased with what he saw. After carrying them for so long, he wasn't ready to embrace Tsuzuki's optimism.

Tsuzuki slid the empty glass to one side. "I know," he replied quietly.

"But that doesn't make sense! How could his curse on me be waning when he's gained Metal power?"

"Elemental energy isn't used for curses," Tsuzuki explained. "Curses drain spiritual energy from the bearer, making them vulnerable to malicious influence. If anything, a curse is a manifestation of the spellcaster's pathological craving for the energy he lacks." He rolled his shoulders to ease the remaining niggle between his shoulder blades. "But Muraki doesn't need to curse people or draw on power from human souls anymore."

"So what does he need? If he's mineral deficient, then he needs a source of organic metal to stay alive. Something he can easily ingest and metabolise..." An idea came to mind. "Of course! Blood! That's how the original vampire legend started in the first place!"

Tsuzuki nodded slowly, doing his best to keep his features bland. "Good thinking. Blood is certainly rich in iron." Best to let Hisoka cling to that theory than consider other bodily fluids. It was close enough to the truth in any case.

"Is that how the Norata family is involved? Like you said, he knows them well, right?" Hisoka leaned forward, thinking hard. "Maybe he's keeping them alive and using them as a source of blood...which could explain why they didn't show up for judgement as expected."

It couldn't be. Muraki had been feeding from him the whole time. Why drain the blood of others? Why go to anyone else for nourishment? Muraki had been so needy, and persistent...and all too persuasive...

I am yours. I must feed from you. Only you can nourish me.

Or perhaps he'd been the biggest fool of all to be duped by Muraki's seductive lies.

A sharp clatter snapped him out of his musings. A waitress was removing his empty glasses.

Hisoka watched him quietly across the table. The sober gravity of his features made him look mature beyond his years.

"In that case..." Tsuzuki did his best to pull himself together. "...we need to check on Muraki's other patients in Nagasaki. He might be using the goodwill he's earned as their surgeon to secretly drain them of their blood. Plus we must find the Norata family and discover what's wrong with their daughter." He managed a bright smile. "Why don't I look through the hospitals, and you get in touch with the Gushoshin about Muraki's patients?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. I'm coming with you."

"Are you sure? I know you're uneasy about visiting hospitals because you can sense the suffering of patients--"

Hisoka flushed in embarrassed anger. "But I think I've got it under control now! Tatsumi-san's been teaching me how to cloak my empathic abilities with kagetsu magic and--"

"Tsuzuki-san! Hisoka-san!" Gushoshin Elder materialised in the air next to Hisoka. "We've been looking for you two."

"That's right!" Right on cue, Gushoshin Younger materialised beside Tsuzuki. "We're going to tag along on your assignment!"

"You are?" Relieved as he was by their interruption, Tsuzuki wasn't exactly thrilled by their news. "What for?"

Elder huffed and folded his feathered arms. "Tatsumi-san wants to make sure you're pulling your weight, of course! He doesn't want you to be lazy and delegate all the work to Hisoka-san!"

"Hey, that's unfair! I do my share of the work!"

"Then why are you lazing about in here?" Younger squawked. "You should be getting to work now!"

"All right, all right! Settle down! I was just about to get moving anyway." He signalled for the tab. "I'm going to search the local hospitals for Norata-san's daughter, while Hisoka will check on Muraki's other patients in Nagasaki once he's finished his tea. Why don't you both use your research skills to compile a list of names for him?"

"Wait! I'm coming with you!" Hisoka threw away his straw and began gulping down the rest of his tea.

"Don't worry, Hisoka-san. I'll keep an eye on him." Gushoshin Elder immediately landed on Tsuzuki's shoulder, talons sinking into the fabric of his shirt. "Younger Brother, you go help Hisoka-san with that list. Use my computer terminal for the time being. I'll accompany Tsuzuki-san on his search." He leaned down to peer closely at Tsuzuki. "This time I'll be watching your every move myself."

---

Outside the teahouse, Tsuzuki and Hisoka parted ways, each of them with a Gushoshin perched on their shoulder. Although disgruntled about the delegation of duties, Hisoka's protests had been overridden by the imperious manner of the Gushoshin.

Tsuzuki wasn't too pleased either about having an avian chaperone. He'd been hoping to confront Muraki alone. But he didn't have much choice in the matter.

"It must be annoying for you to be sent down here," Tsuzuki said, as he strode along the canal pathways that led to Nagasaki harbour. Few people were out walking in the midday heat, affording them some privacy. "I thought you were pretty busy in the library."

"Spare me the fake sympathy! You're the reason the second library terminal is out of operation!"

"Err...yeah." Tsuzuki looked sheepish. "But I just wanted Gushoshin Younger's help accessing the demon database. I'm still on a library ban, remember?"

"Well!" Gushoshin Elder puffed his feathers out. "I suppose you're not entirely to blame. You don't know about the edict regarding the legal definition of a demon. It was made by Enma-sama when he first established EnmaCho, his official department in Meifu."

"Really? So what's this 'legal' definition?"

"To be defined as a demon, a spiritual entity must fulfil two major criteria: firstly, it must be parasitic; and secondly, it must only use Fire energy. Demons are the only entities of interest to EnmaDaiOh-sama because of their interference in the cycle of human life and death. Therefore, they're the only beings we're meant to catalogue in the database." He sighed. "Younger Brother forgot because he's been reading too much silly fantasy novels based on Western mythology. He now thinks all demons breathe fire and wave pitchforks!"

They reached a park with a breathtaking view of Nagasaki Harbour. On the left was the mouth of the harbour with its container terminals and ships, on the right was the main city huddled around the expanse of water. Facing them was the mountain range looming over the city and harbour - the same mountain range that limited the extent of devastation from the horrific atomic bomb blast many decades ago.

Tsuzuki strolled along the wooden dock that led to the waterfront, hands in the pockets of his coat. The cool sea breeze was a welcome relief from the heat. "I don't get it, Gushoshin. Why aren't you allowed to catalogue other parasitic spirits? Even if there aren't any around now, why not keep a record for posterity? Who knows, they might make a comeback one of these days."

"It's not my role to question the wisdom of EnmaDaiOh-sama." Gushoshin hunched his neck so his beak rested on his puffed breast. "I don't want to incur the wrath of Kinu."

Tsuzuki froze. "Who is Kinu?"

"The Gold Raven. According to legend, he is a great bird who embodies the power of the sun. He is said to be all-knowing and wise, yet as brilliant in appearance as the sun itself."

Tsuzuki began walking again. "Is he a shikigami like Suzaku Nee-san?"

"No, no! He's not untamed like the elemental shikigami! He serves EnmaDaiOh-sama, just like us. But no one has ever seen him, or at least lasted long enough to tell the tale. He is said to be the eyes and ears for Akasha, the supercomputer of JuOhCho." Despite their isolation on the dock, Gushoshin lowered his voice. "I'm convinced he was involved in sabotaging Younger Brother's terminal. The virus that attacked Younger Brother's terminal was named Pyrios. I looked it up - it's the name of one of the mythical chariot horses owned by Helios, Greek god of the sun."

"The gold raven Kinu," Tsuzuki murmured to himself. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't put a finger on it. "So Kinu doesn't want you to learn about non-Fire demons either. I wonder why."

"I don't," Gushoshin retorted. He floated around in mid-air to block Tsuzuki's path. "It's not my job to wonder, Tsuzuki-san. And it's not your job either. You're a shinigami appointed by DaiOh-sama--"

"Am I? Are you sure?" Tsuzuki deftly sidestepped him and whirled around, coat flaring around him. "What if I'm not meant to be a God of Death? What if my appointment was a ruse to divert me from my true calling?"

Gushoshin flapped his little wings in agitation. "Tsuzuki-san, what are you saying? You were selected to be a shinigami like all the rest because of your persisting emotional ties to the land of the living! You agreed to the terms laid down by DaiOh-sama!"

"I know, but that was before I knew the truth about myself!"

"Huh? What truth? What are you talking about now, you idiot?"

A wooden post on the dock caught Tsuzuki's eye. "I'll show you." He pulled off his gloves and strode over to it.

"Wait! How can you accuse DaiOh-sama of tricking you? How can you accuse him of such treachery?"

Tsuzuki placed his bare hands against the post, and focused his mind.

"Hey, don't close your eyes when I'm telling you off!"

The wooden post creaked. Ridges and grooves appeared on its surface, gradually spreading over the entire surface. Its colour changed from dull grey to a rich dark brown. With a soft crack, a single green branch sprouted between Tsuzuki's extended fingers.

Gushoshin Elder stopped in mid-squawk. His lower beak dropped. He was transfixed, dumbfounded.

Tsuzuki sighed. The persistent tightness between his shoulder blades was easing once more. He smiled a little when he saw Gushoshin's reaction. "Not what you'd expect for a God of Death, huh?"

"Y-you...have the power to grant life!"

Tsuzuki let go of the post, and studied his hands. "To plants, yeah." His fingers tingled with residual Wood energy.

Gushoshin Elder levitated closer to look as well. "Only plants?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Tsuzuki started at the question. "I...I've never tried to channel it anywhere else."

Gushoshin's gaze was fixed on Tsuzuki's hands. His beady eyes held an intensity Tsuzuki had never seen from him before. It was more than avid curiosity. It was the same look Muraki had given him when his demonic cat had fled in terror from his hands - hands damp with elemental Water.

A look of hungry longing.

Tsuzuki held out one hand, palm up. "Shall I try it on you?" he asked gently.

The bird spirit beat a hasty retreat, but irresistible curiosity drew him back. Tsuzuki held his hand perfectly still while Gushoshin's beady eyes inspected it for any sign to account for the small miracle he had witnessed.

"Is this power really yours to give?" he asked in a hushed voice.

It was more than a question - it was a plea.

"Come," Tsuzuki beckoned. "Come to me, and we'll both find out."

"But...but I'm not dead!"

"No, you're not," Tsuzuki acknowledged, "but neither are you the Gushoshin of legend, who sat on the shoulder of every living human to document their every deed, good and bad, in preparation for their final judgement."

Gushoshin stared at him, unmoving. The sea breeze whipped at his little beret and smock, as if to tug him out of Tsuzuki's reach.

"Under EnmaDaiOh, you've become a librarian who documents what? Book loans? Don't you miss the authority you've lost?"

A keen light sparked in the depths of Gushoshin's eyes - a telltale sign of a forgotten memory rekindled. Unseen by them both, the floating shadow he cast on the wooden dock planks began to shift and change form.

"It's been so long...since anyone has spoken of the old days. How do you know?"

Tsuzuki smiled sadly. "Well, you're not the only one who's been sealed so long you've almost forgotten the deeds of your past."

Gushoshin floated closer. For a moment, he hovered uncertainly over Tsuzuki's outstretched hand. Then, as if making a painful decision, he squeezed his eyes shut, swooped past Tsuzuki's arm and settled on his shoulder.

"The past is the past," he said slowly. "Now I serve EnmaDaiOh, and so do you. We have a summons from JuOhCho to deliver, remember?"

"I remember." Tsuzuki lowered his hand and put his gloves back on. Although hurt by the rebuff, he wasn't too surprised. "Perhaps more vividly than you."

His gaze drifted across the harbour to Mount Inasa, distinguished by the cable cars slowly moving up and down its slope. Somewhere on that summit was Muraki's penthouse apartment. How many nights had he surveyed this city from high up there while held in Muraki's possessive embrace? Just the two of them side by side, watching the city lights and the rising moon...

Each night you come to me, the moon swells a little more. As it waxes into perfect fullness, so my dreams approach fruition...and so will you.

Tsuzuki's breath caught in his throat. A blurry childhood memory was crystallising into sharp clarity.

Please come down, Gyokuto-sama! I want to play with you! Please come and play with me! "Gyokuto..."

"Tsuzuki-san?" Gushoshin Elder was looking at him strangely. "What is it?"

"What...what about Gyokuto, the Jade Hare of legend who represents the moon?" Tsuzuki's voice was low and urgent. "Do you know if he serves EnmaDaiOh too?"

"I don't think so." Gushoshin cocked his head to one side. "Gyokuto's name is never spoken of in EnmaCho. Why do you ask?"

"Then maybe...maybe it's time I introduce you," Tsuzuki murmured, "and address him by his proper title."

"What are you talking about? What about our assignment?"

"Never mind." Tsuzuki pulled his coat around him. "You're right, Gushoshin. We've wasted enough time. Let's go find the Norata family."

---

In the waiting room of the intensive care unit, Muraki stood at the glass window, watching.

In an isolation room at the far corner, Norata-san and his wife sat by their daughter's bedside. A second glass window enabled him to see the couple huddled together, vainly seeking solace from the sight of her lifeless body.

Numerous cords and tubes were draped over her chest, along her arms, and coiled around her neck: ECG leads to monitor her heart, intravenous lines for fluids and medication, an intra-arterial line to monitor blood pressure. An endotracheal tube, connected to a pipe resembling vacuum cleaner hose, extended from her gaping mouth to a ventilator that made her chest rise and fall with metronomic precision, but bore no resemblance to normal breathing.

Violated in the name of medicine, she lived. But to the parents who had known her as a vibrant young woman, relatively well a few days ago, she may as well have been dead.

He had yet to speak to them. She wasn't directly under his care this time, so he was under no professional obligation to do so. The doctors working here would have explained her diagnosis and treatment.

But as the surgeon who operated on her in the past, he had a vested interest in her outcome. He didn't bestow his surgical expertise upon her diseased heart simply to watch her die of complications a few years later.

"How is she?"

Muraki turned. Tsuzuki stood by his side, arms folded, dressed in his usual funereal black outfit. On his shoulder perched the Gushoshin bird spirit, feathers all ruffled to appear bigger - doing his best to look as menacing as possible.

"Her condition is serious. She's in septic shock with a suspected case of infective endocarditis. Blood cultures so far have been negative, which obviously delays appropriate treament."

Obviously? To Tsuzuki, there was nothing obvious about anything Muraki just said. "What's...infective endocarditis?" The alien words meant little, but Muraki's voice imbued them with the loathing typically reserved for demonic names.

"The prosthetic valve I gave her five years ago has become infected," Muraki explained, his voice clinical and matter-of-fact. "I've been informed by the specialist here that vegetations are present on ultrasound - these are small infected blood clots attached to the valve that constantly seed bacteria through her bloodstream with every heartbeat. Her condition hasn't improved on empiric antibiotic therapy, which makes it vital that the bacteria responsible is found, along with its antibiotic susceptibility profile. Without those findings, her condition will only deteriorate further."

In the isolation room, her mother covered her face in her hands. Norata-san put his arm around her and bowed his head.

"How are they coping?"

"See for yourself." Muraki turned away. "I haven't gone in to see them. My surgical skills are of no use unless the valve fails, in which case her condition will be critical. At the moment, there isn't much I can offer them in the way of comfort." He moved towards the door.

A feeling of helplessness overcame Tsuzuki as he watched Muraki's retreating back. "And what about you?" he blurted out. "Are you...handling this all right?"

Muraki's hand paused on the door handle. "I'm well, thank you." He cast a mocking glance over his shoulder. "Good day."

Gushoshin Elder waited for the door to close before he let out a big sigh. "Phew! He's gone at last! Now we can approach the Norata family without his pesky interference! " He floated onto the window ledge, placed his beak against the glass and peered at the rows of beds with open curiosity. "I'll make myself invisible to avoid suspicion, and then we can go in there together. Got that, Tsuzuki-san?"

When he got no reply, he turned around. Tsuzuki was already out the door.

---

Muraki was striding down the busy corridor towards the lift lobby, his white coat swishing around him. Such was his aura of purpose that other people moved aside automatically to let him through, then closed ranks as Tsuzuki scrambled to catch up.

"Excuse me!" He dodged a porter pushing an old man in a wheelchair. "Pardon me, I'm so sorry!" He narrowly avoided a member of the catering staff and her meal trolley, only to run into a couple of nurses. "Forgive me!"

"Another dreamboat," one nurse said as he raced past them.

The other nurse nodded. "Almost as good-looking as the guy he's following!"

Aware of the commotion behind him, Muraki slowed his pace to let Tsuzuki catch up. "Did you have something further to say?" He didn't bother looking Tsuzuki's way.

"Yes!" Tsuzuki glared at him. "Why are you running away? What are you afraid of?"

Muraki stopped dead in his tracks. "Are you calling me a coward, Tsuzuki-san?" There was a dangerous undertone in his silken voice.

A thrill of excitement skittered along Tsuzuki's spine. Only Muraki could fill him with such bone-melting weakness using nothing more than the sound of his voice. "Y-You will be...if you don't meet them. At least say hello."

"Hello? What use is that to anyone?" he sneered back. "You have my permission to greet them in my place."

"It doesn't matter if you can't do anything! As the surgeon who once saved her, you can give them so much comfort and hope simply in being by their side." Tentatively Tsuzuki touched his arm, trying to offer what comfort he could. For all his outward hostility, Muraki was suffering inside too. "You gave her five good years. You didn't fail, not this time."

Muraki's arm twitched at the touch. "You're doing this on purpose," he muttered. "You know the effect you have on me." He looked around, aware they were blocking the entrance to the lift lobby. "Very well." He seized Tsuzuki's gloved hand and began marching back. "I'll see them on one condition."

"What?" Bemused at the abrupt turnaround, Tsuzuki had to lengthen his own stride to keep pace.

"You are never, ever to repeat this morning's incident again."

Tsuzuki knew what he meant. "Why not? It energised you, didn't it?"

Muraki's grip was crushing. "It was a physical violation. You never sought my permission--"

Tsuzuki wrenched his hand free. "Because I knew you'd never give it! You never let me reciprocate! You never let me do anything for you!"

Without another word, Muraki turned on his heel and headed straight for the lifts.

"Tsuzuki-san!" Cloaked by his invisibility spell, Gushoshin Elder floated over the heads of the passersby to land on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "What are you chasing him for? You've got an assignment to carry out! If he's not directly interfering in our work, then let's leave him well alone!"

A lift full of passengers closed its doors. Muraki jabbed the down button again.

"You're right, Gushoshin," Tsuzuki made his voice loud enough for Muraki to overhear. "We have a summons from JuOhCho to deliver. Let's get back to work."

Muraki turned around. Behind him, a vacant lift opened its doors.

"A summons?" he repeated. He came towards them, his manner now stiffly polite. "I wasn't aware you were here on official business, Tsuzuki-san. I would've expected the boy to accompany you--"

"He's investigating another lead. He'll be here later."

Muraki's true eye narrowed. "So which poor soul is to be expressly delivered into Enma's grasp this time?"

Gushoshin Elder materialised on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "None of your business!"

Tsuzuki lowered his gaze. In the moment of truth, he lacked the courage to look Muraki in the eye. But neither did he resist when Muraki lifted his jaw. "You must go back and see Norata-san and his wife. They need you there - now more than ever."

Uncertainty, then disbelief flickered over Muraki's features. He knew.

"I see," he finally said. "Still Enma's loyal dog, ne?"

Tsuzuki flushed. "What about you, Muraki? Still preying on others to feed your lust for power?"

"What of it?" Muraki regarded him intently for a moment. "Don't tell me you're jealous?" He sauntered back down the corridor before Tsuzuki could reply.

Gushoshin looked from one man to the other. "What just happened between you two? Does he know?"

"About the girl, yeah. I'm not sure if he realises her parents are to be summoned too." Tsuzuki tugged at his loosened tie. Sparring with Muraki always left him hot and bothered one way or another. "Let's go hear what he has to say to them. Maybe that'll give us some idea if he's really involved in their failure to show up for judgement."

---

Norata-san's daughter was as pale and delicate as a porcelain doll...and just as lifeless.

Muraki's gaze went to the computer screen hanging overhead. The display listed her vital signs: heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation were stable for the time being.

Flanking him on either side, Norata-san and his wife waited pensively for Muraki's verdict. They had been told the grim news from the specialists here. They were already steeling themselves for the worst. But they desperately wanted hope...and they sought it in the surgeon who had worked a miracle on her once before.

"Keiko is a fighter, ne? She fought her way back after the operation, and she is fighting now." He looked at them then, his cool gaze firm and unwavering. "Do not mourn her before her time. You must not give up on her yet."

To Tsuzuki, cloaked in invisibility as a silent bystander, the words seemed brutal and unfeeling. Surely their grief was understandable under the circumstances.

But Norata-san seemed to draw strength from Muraki's words. He straightened his hunched shoulders. "You are right, sensei. Keiko is the brave one, fighting for her life. It is we who are weak."

"That's untrue." Muraki's voice was low and unusually gentle. "If you were so weak, then how could you have raised a daughter with such a strong will to live?"

"W-We just feel so helpless, sensei." Norata-san's wife hastily wiped away her tears. "If only there was something we could do to help her..."

"Speak to her. She can still hear, even if she cannot respond. She will recognise your voice above others for you are her family." Muraki took her hand, which was fidgeting on the side rail, and placed it on the lax hand of her daughter, which lay lifeless on the sheets. "No miracle of medical science shall ever replace your love and support."

She summoned a teary smile. "We'll do our best, sensei." She interlaced her fingers with that of her daughter's and squeezed tight.

---

Muraki left them alone shortly afterwards. He spoke briefly with one of the staff specialists on duty - an impenetrable exchange of jargon punctuated by sighs and much head-shaking.

Once he had thanked the specialist for his time, Muraki quietly walked out.

Still cloaked by invisibility, Tsuzuki went back to the girl's bedside.

"Maria Wong looked exactly like this," Gushoshin Elder muttered. Perched on Tsuzuki's shoulder, he solemnly observed the grieving family. "She was as white as a sheet too, remember?"

"Yes," Tsuzuki agreed, "but Maria Wong had the strength to kill on Muraki's behalf, didn't she? This poor girl is so ill she needs a machine just to breathe. She's useless to Muraki in this condition."

Gushoshin Elder ruffled his feathers, miffed. "Perhaps Muraki is draining her of energy. Maybe he's the reason this girl is here in the first place."

"Hmm. I'm not so sure. If Muraki wanted to feed off her energy, wouldn't he have given her a condition that prolonged her agony and suffering?" She was comatose, virtually at death's door - a poor outcome for any self-respecting parasite in search of a satisfying energy meal. "According to the Kiseki, she's overdue for judgement, right? Perhaps this infection was meant to bring about her death all along...and it's just taken a little longer than expected to take effect."

"Then what about her parents? They are overdue for judgement too. What could be keeping them here?"

Oblivious to their presence, her mother leaned close to her ear, murmuring words of encouragement. Her father sat in his chair, hands clasped together in silent prayer.

Tsuzuki turned away. "Once she departs, they 'll follow her soon enough."

---

Muraki waited for him in a public park adjacent to the main hospital building. Seated on one side of a shaded park bench with legs elegantly crossed, he smoked a cigarette. Without a breeze to stir the humid air, the overhead branches and leaves swayed imperceptibly. The cat lounged on the grass in front of him, basking in the dappled sunlight.

Tsuzuki materialised on the other side of the bench, arms folded, legs casually akimbo. Gushoshin Elder appeared with him, perched on the armrail nearest Tsuzuki.

The cat rubbed itself against Tsuzuki's legs in greeting, then lounged back on the grass once more.

Muraki flicked ash from his cigarette. "Have you taken her soul into custody yet?"

"Would I be here if I had?"

"You might have come to gloat over your success." He took a drag from his cigarette. "Or perhaps you're here to deliver a homily on the virtues of premature death."

"Did you mean what you said back there? Do you think she can be revived by the love of her parents?"

Muraki shrugged. "It doesn't matter what I think, does it? Norata-san and his wife have no need for my professional opinion regarding her prognosis - not when they can see the truth with their own eyes."

"I guess you're right." Tsuzuki kicked up a puff of dirt with his shoe. "It just struck me as unusual that a cynic like you would be championing the healing power of love."

"I am a pragmatist, not a romantic. Their love is all they have left - therein lies the source of their grief. I simply advised them to draw on that same love to strengthen their own hearts as best they could." Muraki placed the cigarette to his lips again, his gaze distant. "Whether their love can actually revive her is a moot point - but there is little to be gained in telling them that."

"I watched them after you left. You made a difference, you know. I knew you would." Tsuzuki uncrossed his arms and clasped his hands loosely in front of him. "Thank you."

"No thanks is necessary. You gave me a timely reminder of my professional obligations." He cast a brooding glance Tsuzuki's way. "But if you do want to demonstrate your gratitude, you could begin by ordering your feathered friend to leave us alone."

"I'm not going anywhere," Gushoshin Elder squawked.

Tsuzuki turned to him. "Gushoshin, please--"

The bird spirit puffed his chest out. "I have orders from Tatsumi-san to keep an eye on you during this assignment."

"Then leave the talking to me." Proof positive that Tatsumi didn't trust him - not that he needed it. To make it worse, Muraki now knew it too.

But if Muraki noticed, he didn't show it. He simply leaned back on the bench and took another drag. "May I ask the reason for this investigation? She doesn't have long to live. Let nature take its course, and she will be in Enma's clutches soon enough. Why is shinigami intervention required?"

Tsuzuki shifted awkwardly in his seat. He'd been wondering that too. "According to the Kiseki, the book of the deceased, she was expected earlier than this. We are routinely despatched to investigate such delays because they can hold up the JuOhCho court proceedings."

"Oh, we can't have that. Enma expects a steady stream of freshly-harvested souls, ne? Unripe or not, it makes no difference." Muraki's lips curved in a mocking smile. "As you know, demons value souls for their inherent energy - there are few treats more delectable to a demon than the agony of a captive soul writhing in torment. But what about the great ruler of the Underworld? Have you ever wondered what use Enma has for so many tasty human souls?"

"Enma DaiOh-sama's duty is to judge each soul. He weighs up the good deeds against the evil deeds with the aid of a crystal mirror that reflects a person's true self for all to see. Using such evidence, he decides that individual's fate in the afterlife."

"How well you have learned your mythological folklore, Tsuzuki-san. Enma must surely be pleased with you." Muraki stubbed out his cigarette on the dirt below. "I must confess, I always found that story more underwhelming than terrifying: Enma the great garbage inspector of humanity, busily sorting souls for recycling in the various levels of heaven or hell - the saintly ones in the first bin, the mostly-good in the second, the wicked and incorrigible tossed out in the other--"

"How dare you speak so disrespectfully of Enma DaiOh-sama?!" Gushoshin Elder squawked. "Tsuzuki-san, don't let him get away with such insolence!"

"Shh! He's goading us, that's all," Tsuzuki reassured him. "Don't rise to the bait."

"Indeed." Muraki flashed him a knowing, mischievous smile. "You know me so well, ne? Well, considering all the time we've spent together, I would be disappointed if you didn't."

Tsuzuki grimaced, well aware of Gushoshin Elder overhearing every word. "Get to the point, Muraki. You've spent so much time conversing with demons that you're starting to talk in riddles like them. So what do you believe Enma-DaiOh is doing with human souls? You think he's hoarding them for some nefarious purpose?"

"I don't just think, Tsuzuki-san. I know. I've tasted the exquisite energy of human souls for myself. I know how empowering it can be. You've seen first-hand what I could do with an array of souls as my personal energy source. Our first meeting in Nagasaki and our later encounter in Kyoto were fuelled by the energy of murdered human souls, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember all too well."

"Well, just imagine what could be done with millions of human souls. Imagine if you were ruler of Meifu, and you had souls served to you on a regular basis. Think of all that delicious untapped energy there at your fingertips. Imagine accumulating it over time into one huge reservoir, then distilling it into its purest spiritual form. Who wouldn't be tempted to put it to use - just once?"

The leaves overhead began to stir, yet the air remained still. The shadows shifted around them. Startled, Gushoshin Elder looked around.

Tsuzuki was only dimly aware of it. His thoughts were racing with the implications of Muraki's outlandish insinuations. "You...you're suggesting Enma-DaiOh is no better than a demon!"

"Was I?" Muraki pretended to look shocked. "My apologies. I was aiming for an outright accusation."

"But he already has great power as the ruler of Meifu! He's created an administration overseeing the Underworld and an entire realm that mimics the land of the living, right down to the smallest blade of grass--"

"Except that they don't truly die, ne? They're trapped in stasis - like everything else within Meifu. It must require considerable spiritual energy for Enma to maintain such a closed system, don't you think?"

"So you think Enma-DaiOh is using the energy from human souls to keep Meifu the way it is and maintain his grip on power."

The leaves trembled and the branches shook. The shadows shivered below, making the dappled light disperse and coalesce around them.

Gushoshin Elder bobbed up and down. "Don't repeat his traitorous words, Tsuzuki-san! You mustn't listen to him!"

"Let me hear him out. I reap the souls for DaiOh-sama - I have a right to hear his theory as to what becomes of them." He turned to face Muraki. "So what's this energy that sustains the order in Meifu?"

Muraki slid his hand into the breastpocket of his trenchcoat and drew out a gleaming steel cigarette lighter. Idly he began flicking the fliptop lid on and off while he spoke. The clinking noise attracted the cat's attention. It moved towards him, eyes drawn to the lighter.

"His command of it appears impressive on the surface, yet in reality he only utilises a minuscule amount of its potential. So he settles with achieving stasis, while the greatest minds in Meifu grapple with the tricky problem of how he can harness it properly to do his bidding."

"You haven't answered my question. What kind of energy is distilled from human souls?"

Muraki's smile was ironic. "My dear Tsuzuki-san, I thought you'd never ask."

The cat jumped up into his lap. Muraki held it securely in one hand, and continued flicking the lighter lid with the other.

Tsuzuki studied it for the first time. This wasn't Muraki's old lighter. It was satin-polished steel - the Fire-blessed lighter Muraki had once spurned in distaste. As one who wielded Metal, he would naturally steer clear of Fire's controlling influence. But if he could hold it easily now, then his Metal power must be that much greater...

"Deep down, Enma fears it," Muraki continued. "He fears the repercussions of losing his tenuous control over it. He fears what this power can do when it is fully unleashed." Finally Muraki held up the lighter and spun the flint wheel. "Allow me to illustrate by example."

A single gold flame flared to life, then flickered. Its colour faded to brilliant white. At its heart was a small cone of pure violet.

Startled, Tsuzuki recoiled.

The leaves still shook, but the shadows weren't shivering any longer. They slowly drifted towards the flame, concentrating themselves into a single shadow beneath it.

Gushoshin Elder was hypnotised by the light. He froze into absolute stillness.

"Just as there can be no light without shadow, the creative life energy of Wood is not possible without destruction. Unlike other elements, Wood feeds off the other four to sustain itself: Fire to prune, Water to quench, Metal and Earth to nourish and anchor. That's what plants do in nature, ne? Well, procuring the occult elemental energy of Wood is no different. There are two possible methods to procure Wood energy. Firstly, one can activate the regeneration cycle of the elements and consume the other energy types." Muraki bowed his head in Tsuzuki's direction. "A trivial task for one who is master of the four major guardians of the elements."

"I won't do it. I don't want to increase entropy and destabilise all the worlds, especially this one." Tsuzuki looked away for a moment. "So what's the other method?"

"Consume the spiritual energy of an entity that is rich in Fire, Earth, Metal and Water - and thus generate Wood."

"What entity? Shikigami only specialise in one energy type. Demons depend on Fire, and you've told me how low their energy levels are."

Muraki lifted a quizzical brow. "Spiritual energy does not reside only in spirits. Living things possess a spark of spiritual energy too - minuscule compared to shikigami and demons, granted, but significant nevertheless. In their interaction with the material world, they are exposed to the material elements - and thus their spiritual energies too. Out of all living things, one species in particular is gifted at manipulating these material forms to its own advantage. This species has been able to control its environment more than any other, and proliferate across the globe to be the most dominant lifeform on Earth. Cull millions of them, extract each one of its spiritual energy, and there you have it - the perfect raw material to generate precious Wood energy."

Tsuzuki stared at him. "You...you mean human souls?"

"Indeed I do." Muraki flicked off the lighter. "Prized by demons, hoarded by Enma - there is no spiritual resource so dearly sought." He returned the lighter to his pocket.

"But...but then why hasn't a high-ranked demon created Wood energy? And what about you? You've gathered souls, haven't you? Where's your Wood energy?"

"Each human soul only has a minute amount of spiritual power. Millions upon millions must be sacrificed before enough usable Wood energy is distilled."

"I..." Tsuzuki was stunned. The implications were too horrific to contemplate. Could he have been an unwitting accomplice to such a scheme? He shook his head in denial. "I don't believe it. It can't be... Enma-DaiOh would never..."

Muraki's face became closed, shuttered. "Then believe what you like. You have your answer." Muraki picked up the cat and came to his feet. "If the God of Wood does not care if someone else usurps his power, then why should I?" He turned away, his coat swinging around him.

"But you've got no evidence! You make all these crazy claims, but where's the proof? How do I know this isn't just a conspiracy theory you've concocted to turn me against Enma?"

Muraki didn't answer. He walked away from the gravel path towards a copse of trees.

Tsuzuki pursued him, leaving Gushoshin Elder behind. "I've got no reason to trust you. You've tricked me the whole time. You tricked me about your covenant! I thought a demon was responsible, but now you turn around and blame it on me!"

"There are demons, and then there are demons," Muraki replied cryptically. "You assumed my covenant was with a demon to begin with - I merely played along. I knew the idea would appeal to your saviour complex."

"Aha! So you admit you're a liar!"

"No, merely that you're a gullible fool."

Tsuzuki gritted his teeth. "Why didn't you explain any of this when we met in Nagasaki during the Maria Wong case? Or when we were aboard the Queen Camellia?" He seized Muraki's arm. "If you really made a covenant with me all those years ago, then why the hell were you scheming to lop my head off in Kyoto?"

Muraki stopped in mid-stride before the copse of trees. "I...I didn't know." For a moment, he seemed uncertain of himself. "I had no idea my covenant was with you until you revealed yourself in the laboratory."

Tsuzuki eased his grip. Muraki has described him as a faceless, swirling black mass on that moonlit night - but why? Another piece of the puzzle that made no sense. "Revealed myself? What do you mean? I wasn't hiding myself to begin with."

"You have no idea, do you? You have no idea at all." Muraki's lips curled in that all-too-familiar sneer. "You see my dilemma? What would have been the point in explaining anything when you insist on playing the fool?" He sidestepped past Tsuzuki, then suddenly twirled around. "It would be easier to dance alone than with such a clumsy partner, ne?"

The cat clawed at his jacket. "What are you saying?" it yowled. "You must bear witness to the Light!"

Muraki held it away from him. "The Light isn't here. The Light prefers to hibernate in ignorant darkness. I'd have better luck creating a Light of my own." His false eye began to glow. "Now that's an idea."

"Blasphemy!" The cat wriggled in vain. "Do not speak ill of the Light! The Light must be worshipped and glorified!"

Muraki laughed and swung the cat around in a giddy waltz. His coat swirled and flared behind him as if it were light as a feather. Small eddies seemed to trail in his footsteps, stirring the fallen leaves and twigs to dance and twirl in his wake. With nimble steps, he glided effortlessly beneath the canopy of trees.

Tsuzuki turned away. Muraki was taunting him again, and showing off his Wind abilities in the bargain. But Tsuzuki didn't go after him. Their conversation had left him with some serious thinking to do.

Was the entire JuOhCho judicial system established purely to fuel an individual's lust for power, with he and the other shinigami as accomplices? As the newest shinigami, Hisoka would have little idea. But what about Tatsumi? Had he noticed anything amiss beyond the Shoukanka's debts? And what about the Chief, who had been in Enma's employ longer than anyone in the Shoukanka?

Watari's ominous warning came back to haunt him: There are others out there who are watching us - watching you. You can't expect to conduct secret visits to the land of the living every night and not be noticed.

Surely not Watari. Watari was a friend...

Who knew the workings of the JuOhCho computer network like the back of his own hand.

Who knew about his victory over Saagatanus, and his nightly assignations with Muraki.

Who had too much dirt on him to be considered a friend for much longer.

Tsuzuki looked down at his gloved hands. If Muraki was telling the truth, then they held the key to both creation and destruction. No wonder Gushoshin Elder retreated in fear. On some atavistic level, he must have realised too.

Come to think of it - where was Gushoshin?

He looked back. Gushoshin Elder remained on the park bench, locked in a trance.

Tsuzuki started to go to him, then changed his mind. Quickly he pulled out a barrier fuda and held it between index and middle finger. With a whispered prayer, it transformed into a white swallow.

"Guard him in my absence."

The swallow trilled, then flew off.

Tsuzuki pulled off his gloves. The rest of Meifu wouldn't be happy when they found out. With his unsealed power, he had been a liability in the material world, and he would still be a liability in Meifu too. But they must have recognised his potential as a reaper of souls - why else would they have sealed him and retained him as a Shinigami? His ties to the land of the living were stronger than that of any ordinary mortal.

He reached out to touch the slender trunk of a young sapling. At a single caress, the bark twitched like a living animal, and a slender limb sprouted with unfurling leaves. He stroked the thread-like tip, and a tendril snaked towards him like ivy, twining around his fingertips.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. Nostalgic childhood memories tugged at his consciousness.

Look, Okaa-san! I can make plants grow! They grow when I tell them to, Okaa-san!

One small white bud blossomed. Tsuzuki lifted it up for a closer look. The flower unfurled and nodded at him in greeting.

"Hello there."

An icy gust of wind whooshed past his cheek, followed by a brutal snap. The fledgling branch shuddered and fell limp. Tsuzuki fumbled to support it, only to find it was severed from the trunk. .

"If you wanted someone to dance with, you only had to ask," Muraki drawled from behind.

Tsuzuki whirled around, the branch forgotten as it fell to the ground. "Why? Why did you break it? It was a new growth!"

Muraki bowed low before him. His white trenchcoat rippled and swished with his movements as if propelled by a magical updraft. "Forgive me for cutting in so rudely." But there was nothing apologetic about his imperious manner. "Dance with me."

Tsuzuki stepped back. He had no idea Muraki was so close. "Why should I? Weren't you happier on your own?"

"You bestow your power too freely." Muraki stepped forward, crushing the broken branch beneath his feet. He held out his hand. "Dance with me."

An order - and a challenge.

A thrill of excitement went through Tsuzuki. This was one challenge he knew he could handle.

"All right." Tsuzuki held his head high, with shoulders back and chest out, and extended his arms in the formal ballroom dancing pose. His experience as practice partner for his mother and sister was pronounced in every inch of his bearing.

Muraki blinked. More accustomed to Tsuzuki's slouched posture, he was surprised at the transformation.

Tsuzuki took his hand and dared to place it on his own shoulder - the typical position of the partner who follows.

But Muraki wasn't having any of it. He pulled himself free and instead reached under Tsuzuki's arm to grasp him by the shoulder blade. His sharp nails pressed through the fabric as he propelled Tsuzuki towards him - a reminder of the many times he had clawed the very same spot.

Tsuzuki trembled. How many times had Muraki eased the burning ache inside him? The excoriations were inextricably linked to their sexual encounters. His hand settled above Muraki's shoulder without protest. He leaned back a little, all the better to enjoy the prickling sensation of Muraki's nails.

Muraki's eyes glittered, but he said nothing. He simply took hold of Tsuzuki's other hand in a firm grip, then whirled him around into the dappled shadows of the trees. His movements were sure and graceful. His lean body pressed close against Tsuzuki to lead the way - a potent reminder of his latent physical strength.

Tsuzuki had no time to resist - he followed without conscious thought, led purely by the feel of Muraki's body moving against his, and his hands binding them close.

Step after step Muraki led the way, swinging Tsuzuki around backwards until he was almost dizzy, gliding forward so he could recover his senses, only to swing him around in another circle. Trees large and small stood in their way, yet Muraki wove his way through them without colliding with a single one. Inside was a shadowy clearing covered with leaves, where they were free to dance in relative solitude. Their trenchcoats swished and swirled behind them - white and black chasing each other round and round. From above, they were the moving version of the Yin-Yang symbol - opposites flowing together to form a united whole.

"Well, well." Muraki's warm breath caressed Tsuzuki's ear. "I never imagined you would be such a good dance partner. I thought you'd be inept, shambolic, clumsy - yet you're nothing of the kind. You effortlessly follow my lead...the same way you do in bed."

Tsuzuki lifted his chin to look Muraki in the eye. "I'm also good at taking the lead."

"Really?" Muraki drawled. He increased the tempo of his steps and whirled Tsuzuki around even faster.

Tsuzuki matched step for step. "You want me to take my place as a God of Wood, yet you're jealous when I help a little plant to grow. What's wrong with me using my power as I see fit?"

Muraki dug his nails into his shoulder, propelling him closer still. "So you intend to use your powers for nothing more than gardening - instead of considering the human lives you could save." He bent his head to nuzzle Tsuzuki's ear. "Such as Keiko, for example."

Tsuzuki stiffened against him, and lost his footing. "If I fail to deliver the summons, I'd be in breach of the JuOhCho court orders. I wouldn't do that, unless..."

"Unless?"

"Never mind." He had torn up a summons in defiance of the judiciary when a person had shown enough willpower and tenacity to resist the pull of death. But he couldn't tell Muraki that. "Even if I did fail, perhaps that wouldn't be enough to save her. She would still have to overcome her infection...assuming she has one."

Muraki raised a quizzical brow. "Do you doubt her illness? You saw her for yourself."

"I'm sure her illness is real, but I wonder about the cause. This entire situation could be a setup: you cast a barrier spell to prevent her arriving at the appointed time for judgement, then you curse her to rouse my sympathy and test my loyalties to Enma. I wouldn't put it past you."

"Why, Tsuzuki-san, you think I would harm someone I toiled to save by my own hand?"

"You murdered Tsubaki aboard the Queen Camellia," Tsuzuki reminded him. "She was your patient."

"Why, so I did." Muraki thought back for a moment - he had murdered so many that the individuals were becoming a blur. "Well, her father refused to assist with my lucrative organ trafficking syndicate after I saved his daughter's life. In the face of such ingratitude, wouldn't you have done the same?"

Tsuzuki ignored his levity. "So have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Have you cursed her?"

"Of course not. Why would I need her spiritual energy now that I have yours?" Muraki flexed his nails against Tsuzuki's shoulder blade like a lion appreciating the tactile feel of its prey. "Your energy is richer than that of any mortal. I have no use for curses anymore." He bent his head to nip at Tsuzuki's ear.

"Stop that." Muraki was hurting him, yet there was no denying the erotic thrill in the sharp, piercing sensations. "Someone might see."

"Even if I did curse her, you could undo it. You hold the power of regeneration and eternal life." He punctuated each sentence with a sharp nip, while waltzing around and around in perfect tempo. "Touch her the way you touched that plant, and she will be cured in body, mind and spirit. Do not fall into the trap of assuming Wood energy works only on plants. Wood will nourish the material elements in all living creatures too - which is why it is the true source of eternal life."

"Are you serious?" Tsuzuki could barely concentrate. The combination of giddy dancing and Muraki's caresses was threatening his resolve. "I...I can cure with a touch?"

"Of course. Now that I have unsealed you, one touch is all it would take. You'd be the envy of every physician and surgeon. You would be lauded as a miracle worker, a hero...even a Messiah."

It was unbelievable, a dream come true. Tsuzuki blinked up at him, incredulous. "Are you serious?

"Certainly." Muraki spun him around and around with consummate ease. "Shall I take you back there now?"

Tsuzuki was dazed, disoriented. He was no lightweight, yet he was little more than a leaf swirling in circles, held in thrall by Muraki's lithe strength. Together with the dizzy promises murmured in his ear, he felt as if he was in a dream.

He squeezed Muraki's hand to reassure himself it was real. "One touch?"

Muraki smiled. He dug his nails so deep that it pierced Tsuzuki's flesh through the material of his coat and shirt. "One touch."

Tsuzuki trembled, and it wasn't in pain. He shut his eyes and focused his power on their joined hands. When he opened them several seconds later, he found Muraki's lips hovering inches from his own and his false eye glowing softly.

"I'm no miracle worker." Tsuzuki averted his face. "I can't cure you, can I?"

"Cure me?" Two syllables injected with ominous suspicion. "Of what?"

"Your scarred false eye, and your cold unfeeling heart. You're more in need of healing than her. If I had the power to heal, I'd make you my very first patient."

"You hypocrite," Muraki sneered. "It's only because I am what I am that you find me so irresistible in the first place. I'm everything you outwardly fear, yet secretly desire." He bent his head, and nipped Tsuzuki's earlobe hard enough to draw blood. "You think your touch alone will satisfy my need? Have you learned nothing from our evenings together?"

Tsuzuki gasped, but he couldn't wrench himself away. His entire body still moved in effortless union with Muraki's...while his insides quivered like jelly. "Muraki...not here. Hisoka might see us."

"Let him see." Muraki licked at the blood. With his lips, he teased and suckled the soft lobe. "Let the whole world and the underworld see."

"No...ahh...we can't..." Dizzy with the dancing and aroused by Muraki's seductive nibbling, Tsuzuki teetered on the brink of capitulation. "All right. I...I'll do my best to cure her..."

Muraki chuckled. "You will cure her - I am sure of it." His lips searched for the sensitive spot behind Tsuzuki's ear.

"...but first you must allow me...to feed you...my way."

Muraki stopped so abruptly Tsuzuki collided against him.

"Your way?" he sneered. "Your way?!" He shook Tsuzuki by the shoulders. "Why bring up that degrading incident again? You knew I would never give my consent, so you waited until I was vulnerable to take advantage of me! Did you enjoy using me for your own gratification so much?"

Clinging against him for support, Tsuzuki could see the glittering anger in his narrowed eyes. Muraki was not a man to change his mind; his will was implacable as iron. Accustomed to having his way in all things, compromise was alien to him, negotiation beyond comprehension.

He was supposed to be the God of Wood, harbinger of chaos and master of eternal life. But pinned by Muraki's chilly gaze, he may as well have been a wriggling worm to be crushed under his heel - and it thrilled him beyond all reason.

The summons from JuOhCho, his assignment here in the land of the living, even the Gushoshin Brothers and his partner Hisoka - none of it mattered as much as the crazy desire to submit to Muraki's will. Being able to possess Muraki would always be the ultimate prize...but being taken by Muraki wasn't such a bad consolation prize either.

With his heart thudding in his chest, Tsuzuki nodded in mute agreement. He pressed himself full-length against the solid warmth of Muraki's body, showing with his body what he was too ashamed to say with words.

Muraki hauled him close. "Well, well." Reassured of his dominance, his lips curved in sardonic amusement. "Perhaps I should give you a taste of what it's like to be on the receiving end, ne? You need to be reminded of the pleasure in being possessed before you can give an honest answer."

As they dematerialised in a flurry of white feathers, he pulled a willing Tsuzuki into a crushing kiss.

---

After interviewing the fourth patient on the list, Hisoka and Gushoshin Younger had gathered enough information to have some idea of Muraki's recent movements.

"So Muraki's been in touch with them all. He's called the first three to check on their well-being, and he visited the fourth in person." Hisoka flicked through his notepad. "That was two weeks ago, which means Muraki must have been in Nagasaki for at least that long. How did that last patient look to you, Gushoshin?"

"Pretty sprightly for a lady in her eighties," Gushoshin replied. "She was very nice to us too. She even offered us tea!"

"Yeah." Walking along the footpath, Hisoka had to agree. "At first I thought Muraki might have drained her of blood, but she didn't look pale or tired, did she?" He shrugged. "I guess that's no surprise. He seems to prefer his victims younger anyway."

Gushoshin was oblivious to the sarcasm. "Well, she mentioned having a wound infection after her recent surgery. Maybe Muraki wanted to check up on her. Did you see that big scar going down her chest? That was scary!"

"Yeah, it was." The beginning of an ugly keloid scar had been visible just above the folds of her silk kimono. She had not been ashamed of it at all - in fact she had pointed it out to them:

I know it doesn't look pretty, but I wouldn't be alive without it. So to me, this scar is something to be proud of. It marks me as a survivor. Only we survivors are fortunate enough to have scars.

Hisoka glanced down at his covered arms. His curse marks weren't quite the same as scars - their appearance seemed to wax and wane according to Muraki's whim. But her words had made him wonder. How could such a disfiguring mark be a source of pride? How could something so ugly be a sign of good fortune?

No, it was ugly, shameful...something best left concealed even on a humid summer's day.

Perched on his shoulder, Gushoshin Younger peered down at him. "Are you all right, Hisoka-san? You must be feeling pretty hot wearing that jacket!"

"I'm used to it." Hisoka pulled his denim jacket around him. "How many more patients do we have to find?"

"Twenty-two."

Hisoka grimaced. If they were anything like the four interviews he'd just conducted, then they would be filled with gushing tributes to Muraki-sensei's miraculous skills and dedication to saving the human race, interspersed with the odd tear of joyful gratitude. Honestly, the cloying sappiness was enough to make him sick. "I need a break."

He bought a can of lemon soda from a streetside vending machine, taking care to pick something well within the daily allowance allocated by Tatsumi. Even though he wasn't human, he still had to look after the needs of his body.

"That's something I never did get about being a Shinigami," he said between sips. "I mean, we're given rapid healing powers and the ability to use spells to help us in our work. But why do we still feel hunger and thirst? Our bodies are virtually immortal now. It shouldn't matter if we starve or dehydrate, because our bodies will recover anyway."

"Hisoka-san!" Gushoshin Younger was appalled. "But your appetites are the source of pleasure and enjoyment! Without them, imagine how dull the afterlife would be! Eating and drinking until you're fit to burst - without the nastier repercussions - is what makes the afterlife fun!"

Hisoka thought back to the Shoukanka morning tea. Everyone had been so excited about the sweets Tsuzuki brought in. He recalled how Tsuzuki tenderly held the manju bun to his mouth...and the explosion of emotions that came with that first bite: burning hunger, followed by a rich voluptuous pleasure that seemed to uncurl through one's entire body.

How Tsuzuki could derive so much enjoyment from food was beyond his understanding. The King of Sweets? What a moron!

"Hmph." Hisoka wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "I suppose eating and drinking can feel good, yeah. But that's only because it relieves the pain of being hungry and thirsty in the first place. If we didn't experience these bothersome appetites, then we wouldn't know what we were missing and we'd be better off for it," he concluded.

"Well...I guess so," Gushoshin Younger conceded in a doubtful tone.

Hisoka mused over Tsuzuki's inordinate pleasure when it came to eating food. Maybe his appetites were simply greater than a normal person.

The image lingered in his uneasy mind: Tsuzuki's lips as he lovingly nibbled and caressed the pale white manju bun...

...the same shade of pale white as Muraki's skin.

Hisoka stiffened. His fingers tightened over the can until the metal buckled.

"Hisoka-san?" Gushoshin Younger asked. "Is something wrong?"

"There's something important I need to know. I want you to be honest with me." Hisoka's voice was tightly controlled. "What exactly did Tsuzuki get up to last week when he invited you down to Nagasaki?"

---

Pleasure. Exquisite pleasure.

Back in the penthouse apartment, Tsuzuki was having his most base of appetites filled by the thrust of Muraki's cock.

Nude except for the bandages he had wound over his torso to conceal the torn wings, he rested on his hands and knees. Kneeling behind him, Muraki slowly pushed into his ass, withdrew, then surged forward again.

Tsuzuki groaned. His thighs quivered under the onslaught. Between them, his balls swayed in time with Muraki's driving movements. His ass throbbed and ached...and it felt like heaven.

"You like that, ne?" Kneeling over him, Muraki gripped his hips on either side to control the rhythm and depth of each thrust. "Even if you don't cry out, I can tell. The way your muscles ripple as you squeeze around me...ahh, just so..." His voice was thick and husky with arousal.

"Muraki..." Tsuzuki shuddered. Muraki was sliding against his prostate, setting off sparks of pleasure deep within him. His cock twitched and hardened in response. "There...that's the spot..."

"Are you sure?" Muraki angled his hips the same way.

"Yes! Oh yes..." Tsuzuki shuddered again. His fingers clenched the sheets beneath him for support. "More..."

A throaty chuckle escaped from Muraki's lips. "Really?" He slowly slid the entire way out. "I don't want to coerce you into doing this against your will."

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki struggled to push himself back. Muraki's nails dug into his hips, drawing blood - a fleeting pain compared to the ache of frustration within. "Please...don't stop. I want this!"

"Are you sure?" Muraki allowed his cock to slide between the cleft of Tsuzuki's buttocks, teasing the delicate perineal flesh and the sensitised opening. "Before you insisted on being on top. Before you demanded that we do it your way. Have you suddenly changed your mind?"

Tsuzuki shuddered and pushed back, offering up his ass without inhibition. "You want Hisoka to barge in on us? Just do it, dammit!"

Muraki chuckled again. "You're right. That boy does have the worst possible timing." He adjusted his angle of entry, and slid himself home once more. "It's better this way, don't you agree?"

"Mmm..." Tsuzuki buried his face in the sheets to muffle his moan of bliss.

Muraki sighed deeply. "Admit it: you love me inside you, filling you up. You love it more than anything in the entire world." While keeping himself buried to the hilt, he began a series of small steady thrusts.

Tsuzuki shuddered. "Yes...oh yes...that's perfect..."

"Exactly." Muraki leaned forward to kiss the nape of Tsuzuki's sweat-damp neck. "So why tamper with perfection? This is the way we're meant to be together." One of his hands snaked around to massage Tsuzuki's erection.

Tsuzuki exhaled sharply. Muraki's every touch seemed to elicit a new ripple of delight, whether it was the hard heavy weight against his back that prevented escape, the hungry mouth that licked and nipped his shoulder, or the possessive hand that stroked his slick cock to throbbing hardness. And throughout it all, there was the unbearably exquisite sensation of Muraki deep inside him, striking a steady bassline of sizzling jolts that threatened to turn him into a trembling, incoherent wreck.

Under such a tumult of sensations, he wasn't in a position to disagree. Perhaps it was better to rejoice in the mindless bliss of capitulation, and allow Muraki to give and give until he had nothing left...

He bit his lip, remembering. Muraki had regained his spiritual power - the way he had magically whisked them both to his apartment using his own power was proof. He was becoming the Muraki of old: the one who cast spells with the mastery to match a Shinigami, the one who fearlessly challenged him in battle. Was this a consequence of their numerous feeding sessions? Maybe taking Muraki that one time had made all the difference.

Damn. As good as being fucked by Muraki felt, he couldn't allow it to continue. "Muraki..."

"Mmm, Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki's breath gusted over his shoulder and tickled his jaw.

Tsuzuki writhed on the bed and kicked out like a wild horse. Muraki seized his ankle, narrowly avoiding a bump to the head.

Lying unnoticed on the nightstand table, the grey cat watched with wide eyes.

Muraki pushed Tsuzuki's knees up to his chest and leaned over him. "Should I stop?"

"Yes...no..." Tsuzuki didn't know what he wanted anymore.

Muraki's lips curled in a wicked grin. "Perhaps you'd enjoy it more if I nourished you, ne?" He slid his cock against Tsuzuki's, rubbing their erections together. "Isn't that more to your liking?"

"Don't..." Tsuzuki shuddered, and tightened his legs around Muraki's torso to hold him still. "Use your mouth. You need to feed from me...

Muraki pressed down on him, his weight heavy and unyielding. His cock nudged Tsuzuki's ass.

"B-but you'll only exhaust yourself--"

Too late. Muraki slid inside him with a single stroke.

Tsuzuki shuddered and shook his head. "You need...to feed first..."

Muraki didn't bother replying to his token protests. With each violent surge of his hips, he began fucking Tsuzuki in earnest. He buried his face against Tsuzuki's shoulder. The only sound he made were his heavy panting breaths with each thrust.

And Tsuzuki was lost, utterly lost. Even as his mind came up with vague objections, he held Muraki tight and willingly rode the pounding waves of Muraki's ruthless possession. Rocking back and forth, over and over, tossed on a sea of glorious pleasure-pain that led to a brutal, pulsating climax.

Muraki tensed, and let out a low growl of triumph. Beneath him, Tsuzuki gasped. His shoulder blades ached with prickling pain - the sprouting of his black wings.

Slowly Muraki withdrew from him. He took in Tsuzuki with a single withering glance: hair mussed, face flushed, lips parted, semen splattered over his chest, legs splayed apart, and black quills emerging from beneath his back.

"You must be tired..." Tsuzuki's voice was hoarse. "Come and feed from me...before it's too late..."

"Why should I? Why should I obey your commands, when you refuse to obey mine?" Muraki moved off the bed and turned away. "You're not the only person I can feed from. There are others I can call on - others who are more compliant and accommodating." He picked up his clothes. "Perhaps it's time I did."

Tsuzuki struggled to sit up. "What do you mean? Who are you talking about?"

Muraki sauntered to the bathroom. "Excuse me. If you're going to leave by conventional means, lock the door on your way out."

"Muraki! Muraki, wait!"

The bathroom door closed with a slam.

The cat leapt to the floor and ran to the door. "Where are you going? The Light must be worshipped and glorified!" It winced as a gust of wind blew from under the door.

Tsuzuki wrenched the door open. Muraki was gone. All he found was a flurry of white feathers swirling on the floor.

---

In his laboratory, Watari paced the floor, hands behind his back. 003 fluttered above him, mimicking his movements.

On the blackboard was written the numbers 3 and 22, and the word LUX.

"It's got to be a clue," he muttered to himself. "Or a message. But what could it mean?" He halted before the blackboard, stroking his chin.

003 hovered over his head for a few seconds longer, then gave up. She settled atop Watari's head to take a break.

Watari sighed. "I bet Tsuzuki must have some idea. This message is for him, after all. I'd ask him more questions, but he never hangs around long enough."

003 hooted in agreement. She was pretty dizzy from flying in circles for the past half an hour.

"Yeah, you're right. There's no point in getting worked up about it. It's not my business, is it?" Watari sat down at his desk. "Not officially, anyway." He opened the drawer, and took out the drawing of the Tsuzuki's anagram. "There's nothing like it in the JuOhCho supercomputer. I've probed Akasha's vast database as best I could, and come up empty. Now if Akasha doesn't know the answer, who can you ask?"

003 settled on the pile of books atop his desk to take a closer look at the drawing.

"There." Watari held it up so she could see. "Can you make sense of it?"

003 cocked her head to one side for several seconds, then shook her head.

"Well, thanks for trying." Watari put it back down again. Was it worth trying to search Akasha again for more information? He could only do it for short periods at a time because of the terrible headaches it gave him. But that was the price he paid for being permanently online to Akasha.

When he was first assigned to EnmaCho, he had also been specially selected to work for Akasha. Only the most brilliant minds were chosen for such a task. Mother stored the combined wisdom of the human race through the ages - a huge reservoir of information from every field of human endeavour. As Chief Researcher of the classified Five Senses Project, he was in charge of cataloging, classifying and cross-referencing the data into an accessible database for JuOhCho. A direct link to Akasha had been inserted into his brain, allowing him to use his significant intellectual capacity to sort the terabytes of information twenty-hours a day, seven days a week. No matter where he was, no matter what he was doing, any residual brainpower he possessed would be harnessed by Mother.

Some within the project accused him of selling his mind. They were just jealous, of course - jealous that their minds were not capable of withstanding a direct link. Overload a human mind too much, and the resulting short-circuit would lead to memory loss at best, insanity at worst. But he had managed it better than most. All he experienced was the occasional headache - a side-effect that haunted him to this day.

Watari rubbed his temples. He no longer served Akasha day and night, but the link was still there - ready to be reactivated on demand. Once connected, he was online for good.

003 hooted at him. When he didn't notice, she scratched the uppermost book on the pile with her talons.

"Hey, hey! Stop that!" Watari swept her off with his hand. "Books are precious! You ought to know better!"

003 easily evaded him. She fluttered up, then settled on his shoulder.

Watari picked the book up. "How could you damage the cover like that? Geez, look at these scratches. Shame on you, 003!"

003 hooted loudly in reply.

"Well, lucky for you this Bible is pretty old, and the leather was pretty wrinkled to start with..."

Watari's voice faded off. He looked down at the anagram, then up at the blackboard: 3 22 LUX. Then his gaze went to the Bible in his hand.

"Of course! The Bible!" He opened up the Bible and flicked wildly through its pages. "The answer could be right here! 003, you little beauty! You're a genius!"

003 nuzzled his ear, then went back to preening herself.

---

Gushoshin Younger hummed and hawed and stalled as best he could, but he was a poor liar. It didn't take long for Hisoka to prise the truth out of him.

"Damn Tsuzuki! Damn him! Why didn't he tell me Muraki was appearing in his dreams?"

"Well..." Floating before him, Gushoshin Younger looked sheepishly at the ground. "He didn't want you to worry--"

"What rubbish! I'm going to wring Tsuzuki's neck the next time I see him!" Hisoka hurled his empty can in a nearby trashbin. "So you remember nothing after Muraki dazzled you with that knockout spell?"

The bird spirit nodded. "Uh huh. The next thing I knew, it was morning and I was lying in Tsuzuki's bed. I didn't even recall being knocked out until my memory came back two days later."

Hisoka ran impatient fingers through his hair. "So how could you go along with it? How could you say nothing? You're no better than everyone else in the Shoukanka! You've all been keeping me in the dark!"

"I did warn Tsuzuki-san! I warned him that Shinigami should work in pairs! But he wanted to take care of it himself, because he wasn't sure how you'd handle seeing Muraki again."

"Look, I can handle Muraki just fine!"

"Then...you're not haunted by Muraki's curse anymore?" Gushoshin asked hopefully.

Hisoka stiffened. Without thinking, he pulled his jacket around him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Tsuzuki-san mentioned you act weird around him..."

"When was I weird? I was fine aboard the Queen Camellia! I won Tsuzuki back from him in that stupid poker game, didn't I?" He pushed away the memories of the nightmares and the glowing curse marks - bad as they were, they hadn't affected his work performance one bit. "And during the Kyoto assignment, wasn't I the one who took care of Tsuzuki after he drank himself into an intoxicated stupor?"

"Yes, you did," Gushoshin Younger agreed meekly.

"If anything, he's the one who needs looking after! So why does he insist on mollycoddling me? Why does he think he has to protect me whenever Muraki's..." Hisoka stopped in mid-sentence, his mind racing. "Dammit! That bastard! That's what he's doing to me right now!"

"Huh?"

Hisoka shoved his notepad and pen in his pocket. "Making me interview these patients was an excuse to keep me out of the way! I bet he's gone off on his own to find Muraki! We have to find him fast! Can you contact your brother, Gushoshin?"

Gushoshin Younger nodded. "I'll get onto it at once, Hisoka-san." He shut his eyes and focused his spiritual power. As twin brothers, the Gushoshin were capable of communicating telepathically - that was what made them such an efficient team in the library. But when he opened his eyes, he was anxious. "He's not responding. It's like he's not able to hear me."

"He must be in trouble." Meaning Tsuzuki was as well. "Can you locate him?"

"You bet, Hisoka-san. I can sense his spiritual presence anywhere."

A truck rumbled past, shielding them from the view of ordinary people going about their everyday business. When the truck was gone, they had vanished.

---

They tracked Gushoshin Elder to the park outside one of Nagasaki's major hospitals. He remained perched on the armrail of a park bench, staring into space.

"Elder brother! Elder brother!" Gushoshin Younger flew towards him. "Oh no! What have they done to--" Without warning, he collided with thin air and ricocheted off. "Arrgh!"

Hisoka dived to one side to catch him. "Hey! What just happened?"

"A barrier! There's a spiritual barrier around him!"

The two of them approached the bench. Hisoka gingerly reached out a hand. "Gushoshin Elder? Can you hear me?"

No response. The bird spirit's eyes were glazed and unblinking.

Hisoka reached out a little more. An invisible force sent him staggering backwards.

"Damn!" He rubbed his sore hand. "It's strong!"

"It's not just a barrier spell." Gushoshin Younger fluttered around his brother, wringing his winged hands. "He's in some kind of trance. Someone must have cast a spell on him, then placed the barrier around him. What are we going to do?"

Hisoka walked around the bench without encountering the barrier. He touched the far armrail - nothing. Gingerly he sat down on the bench as far as possible from Gushoshin Elder - nothing.

"Wow! This barrier must be small!"

Hisoka picked up some gravel. He tossed some of it under the bench beneath Gushoshin Elder - nothing. He tossed some of it over Gushoshin Elder's head - nothing. He tossed the rest straight at Gushoshin Elder, and ducked as stones flew in all directions. "Yeah, which means it's going to be tough to break through it without injuring him." He dusted his hands. "But I'll give it my best shot." He reached in his jacket for an attack fuda.

Gushoshin Younger hovered in front of his brother, blocking Hisoka's way. "Wait, Hisoka-san! Isn't there another way?"

"No, unless whoever created this barrier dissolves the spell for us." Hisoka stepped past him, fuda raised at the ready.

A sudden gust of wind blew behind them both. It ripped the paper charm from his fingers and sent it flying.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Two meddlesome twits for the price of one."

Hisoka whirled around. "Muraki! I knew you had a hand in this!"

Dressed in his customary white trenchcoat and suit, Muraki stood before him. The wind blew his silver hair off his forehead, revealing the eerie false eye. The tails of his coat flapped around his legs. "More than a hand, I should think," he replied mildly. "Do you require any assistance in releasing your avian colleague?"

"No! I wouldn't ask your help if you were the last person alive!" Hisoka ignored Gushoshin Younger's look of alarm. "Where's Tsuzuki? What have you done with him?"

"Why do you ask? Have you misplaced him somewhere?" Muraki sauntered to the end of the park bench opposite the dazed Gushoshin Elder and took a seat. "Tsk tsk. What a careless partner you are."

"Don't mess with me! I know he's been investigating you on his own! You've been planting dreams in his mind so that he'd come after you! You're manipulating him in the same way you used to manipulate me!"

"Why, don't tell me you're jealous, boy? Do you miss seeing me in your dreams? Would you like to relive our romantic moonlit encounter beneath the sakura tree?"

"Shut up!" Horrible memories flashed through Hisoka's mind: being stripped of his clothes, lying helpless on the ground. "I'm not your puppet anymore! I'm not a doll for you to use - and neither is Tsuzuki!" He pulled out another attack fuda from his jacket. "Now tell me where he is or be prepared to fight!"

"Fight? With you? Hmph." Muraki regarded him with the same patience a long-suffering parent might give a toddler having a tantrum. "What will that achieve? If I defeat you, I certainly won't tell you. In the unlikely event that you defeat me, I doubt I'd be in a condition to tell you." He shook his head, chuckling to himself. "Actually, I doubt Tsuzuki-san would want to be seen in his current state."

Disgust rose within Hisoka. "What the hell have you done to him? If you've harmed him in any way, I swear I'll--"

"Tsk! Temper, temper." Muraki held up a silencing finger. "Allow me to propose an alternative arrangement for you to retrieve Tsuzuki-san - one that will be less troublesome for all parties concerned."

Hisoka didn't lower the fuda an inch. "What?" he spat out.

Muraki's gaze slid over him with slow and deliberate intent. It made Hisoka's skin crawl. No...surely Muraki couldn't be after...

"Your body in exchange for your partner's." Muraki smiled, well aware of Hisoka's loathing. " Allow me to reacquaint myself with your pliant young body for old times' sake, and I swear to return Tsuzuki-san back to your side."

---

"Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven."

John Milton - Paradise Lost

*****

Back in Muraki's apartment, Tsuzuki pulled on a pair of trousers. His black wings made it impossible to wear a shirt.

"That bastard! I should've known!"

Tsuzuki whirled around. He needed wooden objects to absorb his excess energy. But the decor of Muraki's penthouse suite was modern and minimalist, with furnishings of steel and glass. "He did this to me on purpose!"

Tsuzuki stormed to the kitchen, and yanked open drawers to find chopsticks, wooden spoons, and a chopping board. Within seconds he transformed them into a tangled mess of thick vines and thorny branches. "That liar! He said I could cure others, so why can't I cure myself?!"

The cat leapt up on the bench. "Why are you ashamed of the symbol of your power? Why do you fear your true nature?"

"I never wanted this! All I wanted...was to be normal!" Tsuzuki pushed the newly-created plant life aside. His wings remained unchanged, folded high over his shoulders. "When I find Muraki, I'm going to kill him!"

"Kill him?" the cat yowled. "Are you serious?"

"Well, I wish I could! But I need his Metal power to counteract this!"

The cat looked down at its claws. "Once upon a time, Metal energy was plentiful in the material world, along with its active manifestation, Wind. Once upon a time, the four elemental spirits danced, and the world was blessed by their powers."

"The world isn't like that anymore." Tsuzuki pulled one of his wings forward. He splayed the wingtip on the kitchen bench with one hand, and lifted up a meat cleaver with the other.

"Material metal is not enough," the cat warned him. "You mustn't--"

Tsuzuki slammed the blade down, and let out a howl of pain. The excruciating agony of torn muscle and crushed bone sizzled along the length of his wing, and radiated into his shoulder.

He dropped the cleaver and staggered back. The injured wing, partially severed, flapped behind him, splattering blood on the kitchen floor.

The cat lashed its tail. "Stop it! This is sacrilege! You mustn't mutilate yourself! You bear the Fruit of Life!"

Buckled over, Tsuzuki was gasping for breath. He'd been shot, stabbed, torn apart - but this pain was unbearable. "That...was...a bad idea."

The cat leapt down to the floor beside Tsuzuki. "The one you call Muraki is not the only source of Metal energy." It gazed hungrily at the bloody wing, and licked its lips. "Once upon a time, I could have pruned your wings for you."

"But...I thought demons...only used Fire."

The cat lapped at the drops of blood on the floor. "Only because we had no choice after the partition. I chose to live in this reality with borrowed Fire than be captive in Gensoukai." It held up one paw to reveal curved claws of gleaming silver.

"You were...a Metal shikigami?"

"Yes, but I specialised in Wind, the active manifestation of Metal." The cat lashed its tail. "My inherent Metal power is not what it once was, but perhaps I can still help. Do you wish to remain dormant in human form?"

"Yes! I can't go after...Muraki like this! I can't let...anyone else see me..." His black wings trembled above him in agitation.

The cat crouched low on its stomach. With gaze lifted, it crept closer until it was directly beneath the bloody wingtip.

At close range, Tsuzuki could see its eyes. The slitted pupil glowed red, and the grey iris was clouded over with a tinge of aqua green.

He had the strangest feeling he had seen eyes like this before.

With silver teeth bared, the cat sprang up.

---

"My...body?" Hisoka repeated. "Why?"

"Why not? I still have fond memories of our night together, as I'm sure you do as well." Muraki's voice was low and soothing. "You were beautiful that night with your pale porcelain flesh and limpid green eyes. The finest doll in my collection could not compare to you. And thanks to your position as a Shinigami, you remain just as beautiful now."

"No..." Hisoka wanted to move. He wanted to hurl his attack fuda. He wanted to turn around and run away. But he was rooted to the spot by frozen horror...and there was something hypnotic about Muraki's deep melodic voice.

Muraki smiled and stepped closer. "But you are. No need to be modest. In fact, you look even more beautiful than I recall." He brushed his silver hair from his forehead. His false eye began to glow.

Hisoka couldn't look away. He was mesmerised by that eerie false eye.

"Leave him alone!" Gushoshin Younger squawked. He flew up until he hovered high above Muraki's head. "Leave him alone or I'll attack!"

Muraki cast him a hostile glance. "I'd like to see you try." He raised his hand up. Brilliant white light radiated from his palm.

Gushoshin scrunched his eyes shut. "Don't look at him, Hisoka-san! Close your eyes and run!" He dive-bombed Muraki butt first.

Muraki sidestepped. Gushoshin Younger whooshed past his shoulder and slammed into the grass at Muraki's feet. The next instant he was hoisted up in the air again, held aloft by Muraki's grip around his throat.

"You dare to interrupt us?" Muraki fixed the bird spirit with the white glow emanating from his false eye. "Do you not know the special past he and I share?"

"I don't care about you!" Gushoshin Younger squirmed, talons scrabbling wildly in mid-air, eyes still shut. "Hisoka-san, wake up!"

Hisoka blinked. Someone was calling him. A dim corner of his mind knew there was something important he needed to do.

"I cursed him, and yet I saved him." Muraki brought Gushoshin closer, exposing him to the full glare of the white light. "I saved him from a fate worse than death. He comes from a family line that has been condemned to suffer horribly for the sins of their forefathers. Why, I understand at the time of his death, his own father rejoiced in the knowledge he would be spared the wretched fate of succeeding him as heir."

The hypnotic allure of Muraki's voice tugged Hisoka back into the trance. In his mind's eye, he saw the stern face of his father - always critical, always disapproving of his sickly son with the freakish ability to sense the emotions of others.

Perhaps Muraki was right. Perhaps his father had rejoiced at his death - the death of the son he had never loved.

"Shut up, you liar!" Gushoshin Younger squawked, eyes still shut by sheer force of will. "I don't believe you! Ignore him, Hisoka-san! Snap out of it!"

"Save your breath. He can't ignore me. That night I cursed him, I made him my puppet - compliant and obedient to my every whim." Muraki turned to Hisoka. "Why do you frown, boy? Do you still long for the fatherly affection you were denied in your short life?" He tilted Hisoka's jaw up. "Be sad no more. Your master has returned. Submit to me, and rest assured I will give you a night to remember. Pain isn't the only sensation transmitted by the curse, ne?"

The bird spirit opened his eyes to see Muraki looming over Hisoka's lips. "You despicable pervert! At least with Tsuzuki-san you were picking on someone your own size!"

Muraki turned his head. Gushoshin Younger was struck by the full glare of the false eye. His gaze turned blank, and his body went limp.

Muraki tossed the bird spirit over his shoulder. "Now then, where were we?"

Hisoka frowned. There was something important he had to do...something very important...

"Come, my dear puppet." It was mid-afternoon and the park was deserted. There was no one around to witness Muraki lead a dazed Hisoka to the shade of a mature fig tree. "Your body in exchange for your partner's - what could be a fairer deal? Do you agree to abide by my terms?"

What terms? The low hypnotic voice was like a soothing lullaby. The individual words made no sense at all to Hisoka's befuddled mind.

"You want to save Tsuzuki-san, don't you?" With unhurried patience, Muraki began freeing one of Hisoka's arms from the denim jacket.

Hisoka did not resist. He gazed into space as he mulled over Muraki's question. "Yes. Tsuzuki gets into trouble...if I'm not there for him."

"How noble of you." Muraki's hands went still for a moment. "Is it typical for all servants of Enma to be burdened with a tedious saviour complex?"

Hisoka's brow furrowed in thought. An alarm bell went off in his mind, penetrating the foggy stupor. Tsuzuki...

Muraki removed the rest of the jacket, leaving Hisoka in his T-shirt. "I don't know how you managed to wear this on such a warm day. Doesn't that feel better now?" He tossed it to the ground.

Hisoka tried to speak. "Tsuzuki..." he murmured.

"Never mind him. I have no need for him and his tiresome games any longer." Muraki picked up Hisoka's hands. "Now let me see my handiwork - the beautiful reminder of our first night beneath the sakura tree." He turned each arm over, studying the pale forearms.

The skin was unmarked. There was no curse to be seen.

Muraki crouched before him. "What is this? Surely you haven't forgotten your master." Muraki frowned in puzzlement. "Where is my handiwork? Where is the mark of my possession?"

"Where is...Tsuzuki?"

Muraki pulled one sleeve up to Hisoka's shoulder. "I can't believe I spent hours inscribing it on your flesh...only to find the canvas bare." He stood up and roughly pulled Hisoka's T-shirt over his head. "There must be some trace of it here."

Nothing on his chest or abdomen. Nothing on his back. The elaborate curlicues and intertwining red lines were nowhere to be seen.

Muraki shook him by the forearms. His false eye glowed an angry red. "Where is it? Where is the curse?"

Hisoka's gaze remained glazed, but his mouth was compressed in a grim line. Inside, he was wrestling the hypnotic fog with all his might. "Where is...Tsuzuki?" he asked in a louder voice.

The light from Muraki's eye gleamed brighter still. "It's not your place to ask questions, boy. Explain how you rid yourself of the curse."

Hisoka tried to pull away. "I've got to find...Tsuzuki."

Muraki pulled him back. "Silence! Tell me what became of the curse!"

"Tsuzuki...Tsuzuki..." Hisoka repeated it over and over like a mantra. Each time he said it aloud, the fog seemed to recede a little more.

"You think Tsuzuki-san will come to your rescue?" Muraki sneered. He leaned closer to speak in his ear. "Have you noticed how tired and distracted he is lately? Has he been turning up late to work, only to disappear mysteriously in the afternoon? Have you wondered what he's been up to without you following him around like a lost puppy?"

Hisoka went silent. Doubt assailed his mind.

Tsuzuki doesn't want me as a partner anymore.

"You want to see Tsuzuki-san? You want to see the true form of your dear partner?" Muraki's chuckle held malicious glee. "Be careful for what you wish for, boy."

The fog grew thick once more. Hisoka's shoulders slumped, and his arms fell limp.

"There, that's more like it." Reassured of his power, Muraki released him and stood up. "That's how a puppet should be: nice and quiet." He walked around Hisoka, inspecting his bare torso from every angle.

That curse had been his masterpiece - proof of the power granted to him on that fateful night he made a contract with a God of Death. It was inconceivable that his work of art could be eradicated without a trace. The longer he stared at the blank canvas of Hisoka's flesh, the more his outrage grew.

Were the curse marks concealed from view? But how? Surely he as the original spellcaster would be able to sense it regardless? Unless...

His gaze fell to the shadows at Hisoka's feet. It was difficult to tell them apart from the shifting shadows cast by the tree's branches. But his intuition sensed something wasn't right about them.

"Well, well," he murmured. The glow in his false eye winked out. "Has someone else laid a hand on you?"

Hisoka wasn't listening. He was well and truly trapped in the mire of self-doubt.

I'm no use to Tsuzuki. I'm no use to anyone. I was worthless when I was alive, and I'm still worthless in the afterlife.

Muraki observed the glistening wetness at the corner of Hisoka's eyes. His puppet was forlorn and miserable...yet it wasn't his doing.

"Who was it? Who else has touched you? Is he the one who has taken away my curse?" Muraki yanked Hisoka's jaw up. "Is that why you weep? Do you long for his caresses now?"

Hisoka wasn't listening.

"Marked or unmarked, you carry my essence within you. When I take possession of you again, your shinigami body shall awaken once more...and reveal my mark for all to see." Muraki dug his nails into the underside of Hisoka's jaw.

Dark shadows flitted from Hisoka's feet, sliding along his bare skin. They coalesced and circled Muraki's fingers, squeezing with surprising strength.

Stunned, Muraki let go. The shadows dispersed and merged back with the shadows at Hisoka's feet.

"Well, well." Muraki extended a hand towards Hisoka's throat, nails bared. The shadows flew up in anticipation, surrounding Hisoka's neck, shielding his chest. "How fascinating."

There was a sudden rustle overhead. Muraki looked up.

Tsuzuki was perched in the fork of the tree trunk. His black wings were gone. Blood was smeared over his bare chest like tribal war paint. He wore his black trenchcoat draped over his shoulders. Crouched further up the trunk was a sleek black panther with glowing green eyes.

Muraki stared, eyes wide. For the very first time, Tsuzuki's bearing was befitting of a god - a god of war. Torn between bloodthirst and physical lust, he released Hisoka. The moon was not yet full. Tsuzuki was not supposed to awaken in spirit yet...was he?

"Abandon the Light at your peril!" the panther growled in a deep voice. "Glory be to the Light!"

"Silence!" Muraki snapped. "Who gave you permission to feed from him? Tsuzuki-san is mine!"

"You abandoned him!" The panther leapt to the ground, tail lashing. "You abandoned the Light to embrace darkness!" It bent its head and nudged Muraki's hip, pushing him away from Hisoka. "You must not give in to temptation and stray from the path of the Light."

Tsuzuki jumped to the ground. "I've been generous with you. I've allowed you to do as you please. I've put my friendships, my very position in the Shoukanka on the line for you...and this is how you repay me?" He slung off his coat. In place of his black wings were hinged skeletal appendages covered with bloody ragged feathers.

Muraki yanked the panther by the scruff of the neck. "You fed from his flesh! Did you imbibe his essence?"

"Of course not! His body and blood is rich enough! I am not fixated on essence unlike others!" It glared at Muraki a moment longer, daring him to disagree.

Tsuzuki knelt before Hisoka. Much to his relief, the cuts inflicted by Muraki's nails had already healed. He inspected Hisoka's bare skin. The curse marks were completely gone. His spiritual sense detected nothing.

Muraki sighed as he pulled out his cigarette pack and lighter. "It will be near-impossible to conceal you from Duke Ashitarote's surveillance in this form," he told the panther.

The panther rubbed its neck against Muraki's leg. "I only did it because he asked it of me. He is not yet prepared to reveal himself."

Tsuzuki wrapped his trenchcoat around Hisoka's shoulders. "Hisoka, can you hear me? Are you all right?"

Hisoka didn't answer. He didn't have to. His dazed green eyes, glittering with tears, were damning enough.

Tsuzuki busied himself with tying the belt. This was all his fault. He had endangered Hisoka with his selfish and reckless behaviour. He wasn't fit to be Hisoka's partner any longer.

The time for hiding was over.

"I didn't expect much in return from you," Tsuzuki said to Muraki, "since I know what you're like." He dabbed away Hisoka's tears with the sleeve of his coat. "But I had hoped you'd have the decency to leave him out of this."

Muraki took a drag from his cigarette. "All I did was exchange pleasantries. I thought it would be impolite not to reacquaint myself with my puppet for old times' sake."

Tsuzuki shot him a withering glare. "If he's your puppet, then where are his strings?" He turned Hisoka around so Muraki could see. "How can he still be your puppet when he's free of his red strings?"

"So you knew." Muraki's gaze narrowed. "You knew all along. Was it your idea to mask my curse?"

"Your curse hasn't been masked, Muraki. Your curse is gone. Only those who crave energy can sustain a curse on their victim. As you gained energy from me, so your curse eventually disappears. When you unsealed my essence, you gave up your role as a puppet master for good." Tsuzuki carried Hisoka up in his arms, then halted.

Wispy dark shadows rose from the ground to envelop Hisoka. Like pre-dawn mist clinging to mountains, the shadows clung to his clothing and nestled in the folds, covering him in a sheer film of darkness.

A kagetsu spell.

"I suppose that's true," Muraki agreed mildly. "I do not require his spiritual energy any longer." But his gaze was sly and knowing through the haze of cigarette smoke. "But what is this? Perhaps he has swapped one set of strings for another, ne?"

"This isn't a curse! It's a..." A tendril of shadow lingered over Hisoka's cheek, distracting Tsuzuki in mid-sentence.

Muraki sauntered forward for a closer look. "Why, it's positively caressing him." He let out a wry chuckle. "So is this a kagetsu love charm? A shadow seduction spell, perhaps?"

"Shut up!" Tsuzuki whirled around, placing Hisoka out of Muraki's reach. "Tatsumi would never do such a thing!"

"Why not? The boy is cute and attractive, ne? Especially when he is helpless and vulnerable as he is now. I know you've been tempted by his beauty, as I was long ago - and I'm sure your secretary isn't blind to his youthful charms either."

"I said shut up!" Jealousy reared its ugly head, robbing Tsuzuki of rational thought. Those evening lessons to teach Hisoka kagetsu magic were an ideal pretext for an after-hours affair. Once Hisoka's mind was lulled by the cloaking shadows, Tatsumi would have the freedom to do whatever he liked...and Hisoka would be powerless to resist. Instead of stroking Hisoka with evanescent shadows, Tatsumi could caress him with his bare hands...

"As God of Wood, you have the capacity to wield the same control over shadows too." Muraki's voice was low and conspiratorial. "Just as Wind is the active Yang corollary of Metal, so Shadow is the Yang corollary of Wood. When you awaken on the full moon, you'll be able to do everything the secretary can - plus much, much more. You can take your place as kagetsu master - the fitting title for one who wields Wood energy, the energy of life."

"So you say."

"Indeed I do. I've been trying to tell you for the past five nights." Muraki walked around to face him. "Accept your destiny, and everything could be yours in two more nights." He gestured at Hisoka with his cigarette. "You could dispel the secretary's spell with a mere wave of your hand...or manipulate the shadows yourself to make him yours."

Tsuzuki studied the restless shadows as they flickered and trembled over the dazed Hisoka. Kagetsu power his? It defied belief. But neither was he immune to temptation, and the idea of making Hisoka his was a long-held fantasy.

"He's so cute in his sleep, isn't he? Innocent and untouched - like a bud before it blooms. And I suppose on some level he still is, you know. His sensual nature remains locked inside him - just waiting for you to awaken it with your gentle touch."

Once his prickly defences were breached, Hisoka wouldn't fight or resist. Hisoka would accept him being on top...especially once the shadows kept him bound and helpless.

Tsuzuki clamped down on the traitorous idea. He wouldn't do that to Hisoka. He refused to use Hisoka to slake his lust...and he couldn't believe Tatsumi would've done such a thing either. "What about you? Don't you mind?"

"Not at all." Muraki took another drag from his cigarette. "You long to take charge during our couplings, ne? I'm simply suggesting a convenient outlet for you when you're in the mood to be on top."

"A convenient outlet," Tsuzuki repeated flatly.

"Take it from me, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki began to saunter off. "With his shorter stature and slighter build, the boy would be ideal for the task. As the one who broke him in, I can vouch for--"

"What if he's not the one I want? What then?"

Muraki didn't turn around. "Then feel free to choose from this world and the next once the moon is full." He seized the indignant panther by the scruff of its neck. "You will have all the worlds in your grasp by then."

"Do not abandon the Light! The Light must be worshipped and glorified!"

"I've done my fair share of worshipping." Muraki dragged the big cat behind him. "There are times even a god requires solitude from his worshippers."

The panther hissed and growled its displeasure.

Tsuzuki watched him go, then looked down at the shadows nestled around Hisoka. This wasn't a love charm. It was a small protective spell to guard the bearer from harm - the kagetsu equivalent of an activated barrier fuda.

Hisoka would never have agreed to such a spell - his fierce pride would never have allowed it. Tatsumi must have cast it in secret when Hisoka was otherwise occupied in practising his kagetsu mind techniques. He would've had to keep it discreet and inconspicuous to avoid attracting Hisoka's attention.

Yet despite its shadowy origins, the motivation for Tatsumi's spell was crystal clear.

You don't trust me, do you, Tatsumi? You don't trust me to keep Hisoka safe during an assignment.

He laid Hisoka down among the leaves and grass, then reached inside his black trenchcoat for an illusion fuda.

Hisoka's lips parted slightly. Soft and pale pink, and all too tempting to kiss.

Maybe you're right.

Tsuzuki picked up Hisoka's hand. He watched the charmed shadows nestling in the fold of Hisoka's clothing, quivering restlessly. Carefully he turned the hand over to expose the inner wrist, brought it to his lips in a chaste kiss, and suddenly nipped the flesh hard.

The shadows flew up to push him back, but they were too late. A small bleeding cut was formed.

Tsuzuki felt the sweet intoxicating taste explode in his mouth and go straight to his head, making him giddy. Quickly he spat it out, then pressed the paper charm against the cut. When enough blood had been absorbed by the fuda, he held it between the index and middle finger of one hand and began reciting the spell.

---

Hisoka huddled himself into a ball on the ground. He was naked, alone. A harsh spotlight shone down on him from above, blinding him. The sound of his own voice echoed out of the surrounding darkness:

Useless. You're useless, useless.

He looked down at his bent knees. Glowing red lines marked his skin, winding its way over the contours of his flesh. Slowly he extended his arms. The same red lines curled over his hands, around his wrists, along the length of both arms, down his torso.

A deep sardonic voice echoed around him, overlaid with his own: I engraved this curse on your body so it would penetrate your flesh to your very bones. Even if you're reduced to a single cell, my curse shall remain.

Hisoka blocked his ears to no avail.

Do you consider yourself useless, boy? Then allow me to give you a purpose. You shall be my little puppet...and these lovely red lines shall be your strings, ne?

"No, I'm not! I'm not your puppet!"

But you are, from your emerald green eyes to every inch of your ivory skin. I've owned many fine dolls, but none dance at my command like you. So come to me, little puppet.

"I won't! I'm not going anywhere!"

But you must be lonely there on your own: neglected, unloved. I know exactly how you feel. Come here. Let me hold you once more. In my arms, you'll rediscover your true purpose--

Hisoka could feel his cheeks flush with shame. His skin tingled and burned. "Shut up! Shut up and leave me alone!"

--as my dear little puppet.

Hisoka scrunched his eyes shut. He refused to cry. Crying would be the ultimate humiliation. But Muraki knew just how to zero in on his greatest weakness: the fragile self-esteem he went to such pains to hide beneath his guise of prickly aloofness.

Maybe it was true. Maybe that was all he was good for. His mother had rejected him, afraid of his uncanny empathic insight. His father had ignored him, leaving it to other clan members to train him in the samurai arts. He had never felt wanted by anyone as a child.

Do not mourn, boy. I know how you feel, for your wretched life is an echo of mine. I won't reject you. I won't turn you away. I still have a use for you. So come here. Come to me. Come...

At least Muraki wanted him. At least Muraki had a use for him.

A new voice spoke out of the darkness. It was low, strained - as if the speaker was holding back strong emotion: Please...

Hisoka's head jerked up.

Please take care of him for me, Kurosaki-kun.

Hisoka swallowed hard. "Tatsumi-san?"

I couldn't bear to be with him. It broke me completely. I was too weak. But not you, Kurosaki-kun. Not you.

Hisoka rubbed his eyes and sat up, his curse marks and nudity forgotten. Behind the warmth of Tatsumi's voice, there was something else - a terrible sadness. He squinted against the light. "Tatsumi-san, is that you?"

I ran away from him - far, far away. After me, he's had countless partners desert him - until now. You are his partner now. So please take care of him.

"I...I've tried, Tatsumi-san. I've tried, but I'm nothing but a nuisance to him."

Please stay by his side. Please do your best to support him.

"But my best isn't good enough! Look, I do my best to make sure he doesn't get hurt, while he does his best to make sure I don't get hurt...which means we just tiptoe around each other and get nowhere!"

Please do your best, Kurosaki-kun. Your kind heart and empathic abilities enable you to understand him better than the rest of us.

"What use was that when he summoned Touda?! He became so depressed he wanted to destroy himself and there was nothing I could do to stop him! I couldn't change his mind..."

Flickering red lights lit up the darkness. They multiplied around him, growing stronger and brighter. Dark smoke billowed around him. The acrid smell of charcoal assailed his nostrils - and with it, the memory of that horrific laboratory fire.

Hisoka closed his eyes, remembering. "I never told anyone this...but he wasn't sad or upset in that inferno as he waited to die. Although he had tears running down his face, he had a blissful smile on his face - a real smile, not the fake smile he normally wears. Honestly, I'd never seen him so...so happy."

A warm coat was draped around his shoulders. "You care for him very much, don't you, Kurosaki-kun?"

The voice no longer echoed around him - it was right in front of him.

Hisoka opened his eyes. The flames were gone. Tatsumi knelt before him in the circle of light. He was dressed as usual minus his jacket: neatly pressed brown vest and suit trousers, crisp white shirt, striped blue tie perfectly straight. The metal rims of his glasses gleamed, obscuring his eyes. The wispy strands of brown hair falling over his forehead were the only softening feature in his brisk, business-like appearance.

Hisoka flushed and clutched the jacket around him. "I...I do, Tatsumi-san. Tsuzuki...he's the family I never had. He made me feel welcome and helped me find a home in the Shoukanka. He's done so much for me...but I couldn't do anything for him when it mattered the most. All I could do was join him in Touda's flames, because I couldn't imagine life as a Shinigami without him. I failed him...and I failed you too."

Tatsumi leaned forward, his piercing blue gaze intent. "Is he the main reason you've accepted a tenure as shinigami for so long?"

"Well..." Tatsumi's dignified manner always managed to fill him with awe. "Yes, I suppose so."

Tatsumi lowered his gaze. "I see." His expression remained serene, yet Hisoka had the feeling he was disappointed with the answer.

"It's...it's my job to look after him, like you said...and Tsuzuki can be a real idiot at times."

Tatsumi's gaze remained downcast, but a rueful smile hovered over his lips. "How true, Kurosaki-kun."

Hisoka couldn't help noticing what long eyelashes Tatsumi had. When Tatsumi caught him staring, Hisoka flushed and looked down. He saw that the curse marks were no longer visible on his arms and legs.

"I have a new favour to ask of you, Kurosaki-kun. There is something else I'd like you to look after for me."

Tatsumi held out his hands. Between them was a miniature rosebush with a single white rosebud.

Hisoka peered down at it. "It's...beautiful." He was too entranced with it to notice the tender look Tatsumi gave him.

"It is, isn't it?"

Hisoka cupped the rosebud with his hands. It radiated a faint glow. "Where did you get it?"

"When it first came to us many years ago, it was suffering from a severe case of blight: its foliage was spotted, its buds dying before it could bloom. With a great deal of care and attention, it's gradually started to grow and thrive once more."

"Really? But it's still so small and fragile."

"Only on the outside, Kurosaki-kun." Tatsumi's warm gaze never left Hisoka's down-bent head. "The few spotted leaves left will be shed in time. Will you take good care of it for me?"

"All right, I'll do my best." Hisoka frowned when he noticed it wasn't a pot plant - it was planted firmly in the ground. "So I can't take it with me?"

"No, but you can take time out each day to tend to it, can't you?"

"Oh...of course, Tatsumi-san." Hisoka was too embarrassed with himself to notice the gentleness in Tatsumi's voice. "But I'm not familiar with growing roses...and I'm not sure where we are."

Tatsumi slid his glasses up his nose. "When you figure out where this rose grows, you'll know how best to give it the care and attention it needs."

Hisoka blinked. For a fleeting moment, Tatsumi didn't look like Tatsumi at all. There was a sly glint in his eye that seemed out of character...and then Tatsumi was standing up, brisk and business-like once more.

"Until we meet again, Kurosaki-kun." With those parting words, he melted into the darkness.

Thoroughly confused, Hisoka studied the rosebush once more. Why him? Why trust him again after his failure to care for Tsuzuki? Why not ask someone else in the Shoukanka?

A shrivelled spotted leaf on one of the branches caught his eye. He carefully pulled it off. The white rosebud glowed brighter and brighter, until his entire vision was filled with its radiant glow.

---

Hisoka squinted and held up his hand against the glare. Late afternoon sunlight peeked through his fingers. He was lying on the ground, fully dressed, surrounded by leaves and grass.

He quickly sat up, then put his hands to his head. He felt dizzy, disoriented. How did he get here? Next to him was a scrunched-up paper charm. A few metres away were Gushoshin Elder and Younger, both asleep on their feet.

Muraki's work.

Hisoka scrambled unsteadily to his feet. Muraki had been here. The last thing he remembered was talking to Muraki...

But Muraki was gone. All he could see was a massive fig tree before him, the biggest he had ever seen. It dwarfed all other trees in the park with its thick trunk and extensive leafy canopy.

How odd. No tree that big had stood there before.

As he approached, he saw Tsuzuki standing at the base of the gnarled trunk. His head was bowed, his shoulders hunched as he pressed his hands against the trunk. He looked as if he was using all his physical strength to push the tree down.

Hisoka ran towards him, almost stumbling over the thick tree roots protruding through the ground. "Tsuzuki!"

Tsuzuki whirled around. "Hisoka!" He dusted his hands. "You're awake at last! Did you have a nice nap?"

"I wasn't napping! I came here looking for you." He noticed the beads of sweat on Tsuzuki's brow. "What were you doing?"

"Nothing much." Tsuzuki smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "How do you feel?"

"Awful. I've got a splitting headache." Hisoka rubbed his forehead. "What happened? Where's Muraki?"

Tsuzuki frowned. "Your hair's a mess. Let me get those leaves out of your hair." He reached a hand out to Hisoka's head.

"Don't change the subject! I can look after my own hair!" Hisoka combed his hair roughly with his fingers. "Where have you been? What did Muraki do to you?"

Tsuzuki let his hand fall. "Don't worry about Muraki. I'll take care of him."

"It's not Muraki I'm worried about!"

"You don't have to worry about me either." Tsuzuki turned away, evading his gaze. "I don't want you to worry about me ever again."

"Then tell me what's going on!" A horrible suspicion dawned on Hisoka. "You haven't just been investigating him, have you? You've been seeing him in secret! You...you idiot! Haven't you learned your lesson? You're allowing him to manipulate you all over again!"

After an eternity, Tsuzuki finally looked at him. His gaze was sad. "Hisoka, you were wrong about me."

"About you being an idiot? I don't think so! You've been an idiot for as long as I've known you, always letting others push you around and never standing up for yourself--"

"I'm not human, Hisoka."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

Tsuzuki unbuttoned his trenchcoat. He wore no shirt. Rivulets of blood dripping from each shoulder down his chest. "Look." He shrugged off the coat and turned around.

Each shoulder blade was covered with a carpet of bloody black quills.

Hisoka stared, horrified. "What...what is this?"

"A sign that I'm growing in Wood energy." Tsuzuki turned back to face him. "I had no idea I possessed power over Wood because this energy used to be dormant inside me. But now it's been awakened--"

"Wood energy? There's no such thing!"

"I thought so too, until Muraki explained it to me. You see, I--"

"And you believe him, despite all the things he's done, despite the way he drove you to the brink of insanity? How can you be so foolish? You're the biggest idiot I've ever met!"

"Hisoka, please listen to me. These feathers are a sign that I'm not human--"

"No, you listen! We've got to get back to Meifu and show this to Chief Konoe! They look like the start of demon wings - the wings you had when you were possessed by Saagatanus! Muraki must have found a way to reactivate that dog's curse!"

"It's not Saaga's curse," Tsuzuki explained. "Saaga is no more. I annihilated him once and for all."

"Annihilated him? When? How?"

"A few days ago. Muraki summoned him to the land of the living so he and I could do battle--"

"Then this is his doing! He set you up! Don't you get it? Saaga first took possession of you after he injured you in a fight! Muraki must've set up that fight so Saaga could take possession of you again! That's how you got these feathers! It's a sign that Saaga's taking over your body!"

"No, this is different. I don't feel as if I'm being possessed this time--"

"As if you can tell! You're the last person to notice!" Hisoka seized his hand and dragged him away from the tree and towards the dozing Gushoshin. "You may not recall the havoc you wreaked the last time you were possessed, but I do! We've got to get you back to the Shoukanka right now!"

Tsuzuki grimaced. Further explanations would be useless - Hisoka wouldn't let him get a word in edgeways. Much like Tatsumi before him, Hisoka only saw him as a fool in need of protection.

"If I am possessed, then you're endangering yourself by being near me."

"And it wouldn't be the first time," Hisoka retorted.

Tsuzuki stiffened. He deserved that and more for the pain and suffering he'd put Hisoka through. He looked down at Hisoka's hand firmly gripping his own, and came to a firm decision.

He wouldn't endanger Hisoka or any of his Shoukanka colleagues any longer.

Tsuzuki came to a sudden halt and yanked Hisoka towards him. Taken by surprise, Hisoka slammed into Tsuzuki's bare chest.

"Tsuzuki!" Hisoka shoved him away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Tsuzuki seized him by the wrists. "What do you think?" He curled his mouth in a lascivious leer as he pulled Hisoka close. "Do you remember the lovely evening I hacked your delectable body in two?"

Hisoka froze. "Tsuzuki...?"

"You want that fool back? Surely not." Tsuzuki leaned over him, a devilish glint in his eye. "He's too much of a coward to go after what he wants - unlike me."

Hisoka struggled against him. "Let me go!"

Tsuzuki nuzzled his cheek. Shadows flew from the folds of Hisoka's clothes to cover his face, pressing him back. "You think he hasn't wanted to do this to you too? You're so young, so pliant - who could resist your lovely flesh?" He pushed against the shadows and licked the whorls of Hisoka's ear. "You were excited by the idea of being alone with me, weren't you? Your feigned embarrassment didn't fool me one bit."

"Get away from me!" Hisoka hit at his chest. "You make me sick!"

Tsuzuki kissed him - a hard, brutal kiss that demanded submission. The charmed shadows dispersed, confused by the mix of violence and passion. Hisoka went limp for a stunned second before he wrenched his mouth away. His lower lip was bleeding. His wide green eyes were stricken with horror and disbelief.

Tsuzuki eased his grip on Hisoka's wrists, equally stunned. He'd gone too far.

Hisoka seized advantage of the reprieve. He punched Tsuzuki smack on the jaw.

Tsuzuki staggered backwards and fell flat on the ground. His face throbbed in agony, and blood filled his mouth. For a teenage boy, Hisoka packed a vicious right hook.

"You may have escaped before but I'm going to seal you properly this time, Saagatanus!" Standing over him, Hisoka closed his eyes and placed his hands together, index fingers joined.

Tsuzuki struggled onto his hands and knees. In front of him, he caught sight of a twisted tree root emerging between patches of grass. Dimly he heard Hisoka recite the opening verses of the binding spell, and it filled him with bittersweet pride.

I trained you well, Hisoka. I trained you well.

He gripped the root as tight as he could, and focused his mind in a silent prayer of his own.

Forgive me. The energy I channelled into you...please return it back!

Wood energy coursed up his arm into his shoulder blades, through his body. His upper back was tingling, burning.

Twin bony appendages erupted from each shoulder blade, splattering blood everywhere.

Hisoka opened his eyes. He blinked, but he didn't pause in his prayer for a second.

The appendages arced high into the air, over Tsuzuki's head. Black feathers sprouted from joint to wingtip, row after row extending to form glossy black wings.

Tsuzuki came to his feet, his wings extended up behind him. He could feel the atmospheric pressure around him changing in intensity. A whirlwind formed around him, accompanied by a wall of crackling static electricity. His eyes met Hisoka's through the binding spell's barrier.

"Tell Chief Konoe I refuse to deliver the summons. If DaiOh-sama wants these souls so badly, he can come and collect them himself. This dog has broken free of the leash." Tsuzuki fanned his wings wide, then swept them across in front of him.

Hisoka kept chanting. With each verse, seal upon seal was being laid down over the spiritual binds. Slowly but surely, the spell was working its magic.

The black wings disintegrated into a flurry of black feathers. They were swept into the whirlwind of the binding spell, obscuring Tsuzuki from view.

When Hisoka finished the spell, the black feathers fluttered to the ground. Tsuzuki was gone.

The huge fig tree overhead was dead. Barren of all leaves, it was now a hulking black stump, its outstretched branches forming jagged cracks against the pink-orange glow of sunset.

---

Muraki sat alone in the waiting room of the intensive care unit, arms folded. The panther had been banished to the penthouse apartment as punishment. He had cast a spiritual barrier around the premises to keep the animal in place.

It felt good to have his magical powers back. He had missed the thrill of casting his own spells. Tsuzuki's essence was indeed the tonic he had needed, and their sexual encounters the ideal method for feeding...until now.

He didn't want a Tsuzuki who remained ignorant of his true nature. But neither did he want a Tsuzuki who insisted on asserting his dominance in bed. As a major shikigami, it was Tsuzuki's prerogative to establish his rule over others. But as the one who awakened him, Muraki sought another fate for himself: a vastly different fate.

Offering the boy as plaything was the best compromise. Tsuzuki obviously found him suitable too - why else spend over an hour with him?

His scheme was going according to plan. Jealousy would be irrational under the circumstances.

Through the one-way observation window, he watched the girl in the isolation room. Keiko's condition remained serious with no improvement. The thread tying her to the material world was tenuous. Despite the return of his own spiritual powers, there was nothing he could do to pull her back to consciousness.

All he could do was delay her soul from its journey to the afterworld. Kill her before she died from natural causes, then imprison her fleeing soul with a powerful barrier spell. It was the same method he had used before in his quest to increase his own spiritual energy.

He felt for the scalpel in his breast pocket. If he could not convince Tsuzuki to save her, then he would be a thorn in Meifu's side once more. Murdering her himself was better than allowing Enma to harvest her soul as he pleased.

A breeze blew through the small room. A little whirlwind of black feathers descended from the ceiling.

Muraki held out his hands to catch them. "Tsuzuki-san..."

Tsuzuki materialised before him. He was shirtless and hunched over, arms clutched around his bloodied shoulders, outstretched black wings cramped by the low ceiling. Slowly he lifted his head. His face was marked with cuts and bruises.

"I told Hisoka the truth. He thinks I'm a demon. He tried to seal me with a binding spell." Tsuzuki's lips were curled in a pained smile. "He didn't do too bad, huh?"

"What happened?" Muraki eyed the black wings suspiciously. "Did you actually allow the boy to--"

"No! I absorbed Wood energy from the fig tree." Tsuzuki wiped his cheek - the abrasions were already healing. "I think I took too much. Once I started, I couldn't stop."

"This is at it should be." Taking hold of Tsuzuki's hand, Muraki brought it to his lips and licked away the trace of blood. "You hold the power of life and death in your hands, ne?"

Tsuzuki pulled his hand away. Behind him, the black wings folded awkwardly against his back. "I used an illusion fuda to enter Hisoka's mind. I heard the words you used to torment him."

"Really?" Muraki lifted a brow. "And while you were there, did you take the opportunity to enter anything else?"

Tsuzuki looked him straight in the eye. "What do you think?"

Muraki studied his features for a long moment, then sighed and shook his head. "I should've taken advantage of the boy while I had the chance. The opportunity was clearly wasted on you."

Tsuzuki grabbed his shoulder. "If you go anywhere near him, we're through. You got that? I'm not sharing you with anyone."

"Why, Tsuzuki-san, you actually sound jealous! How refreshing indeed." Muraki shook him off. "Does it anger you to see me devote my attentions to another?"

"You know it does." Tsuzuki flushed at the admission, but refused to be ashamed. "Why didn't you tell me your cat familiar was once a shikigami?"

"You never asked. You wouldn't have believed me anyway." Muraki walked over to the observation window.

"So are all demons former shikigami?"

"Indeed they are. Demons are the fallen shikigami who rebelled against Enma's decree and rejected the virtual eden of Gensoukai. Once upon a time, shikigami and humans shared the material world together, until resources grew scarce. Humanity, being confined to physical form, were more vulnerable and soon became a threatened species. So Enma and his finest minds created Gensoukai as a temporary refuge for the shikigami. Once the material world had recovered, he promised the shikigami they would be allowed to return."

"Return here? To the land of the living?"

"Yes. However, not everyone believed him. Some shikigami refused to obey. A prolonged conflict ensued, until an armistice was reached many years later. In exchange for their freedom, the rebel shikigami would be partitioned from the rest. They would forfeit their elemental energy to become the demons we know today - preying on the rich spiritual energy of humans to sustain themselves. The Fire they wield is no longer their own. It is energy they have taken from the souls of humans and other living creatures."

"But why refuse the chance to live in Gensoukai with their powers intact? I've seen it myself, and it's a beautiful place--"

"Is it? As beautiful as your gilded prison in Meifu?"

"But couldn't they see the danger they posed to this world and humanity?"

"Why should humans have precedence over shikigami, apart from serving as Enma's exclusive energy source?" Muraki indicated the row of beds in the unit, each occupied by an ill patient. "Like these ones right here, for example. Each of them would make a tasty morsel for Enma, ne? But Keiko is the youngest, a babe compared to the others. Her youthful untried spirit would be the sweetest to taste. I can see why he'd issue a summons for her first."

"You mean this?" Tsuzuki took out a sheet of paper from the pocket of his trousers. He held it up so Muraki could read the three names on it.

Muraki's gaze narrowed. "You didn't tell me the summons was not for her alone. What will you do with it?"

"It doesn't matter what I do, because Hisoka has a duplicate copy." Tsuzuki crushed it in his fist and focused his mind. He opened his hand to reveal powdered grey ash. "The energy that consumes others within itself, yet can regenerate and bring eternal life. Is this what you meant?" He let the ash fall to the floor.

"Indeed." Muraki looked at the ash, then at him. Surprise mingled with a new respect was there in his gaze. "Your mastery of your power is growing."

"I could do the same to you right here - drain you of your energy until you're nothing more than dust and ashes. It's what you deserve for the things you did to Hisoka." Tsuzuki reached out his hand to touch Muraki's cheek. "You should be trembling in terror of me."

Muraki didn't flinch. "Is that what you want?"

Tsuzuki let his fingertips trace Muraki's unsmiling mouth, then slide under the angular jawbone down to the smooth pale flesh of his throat. "No. Youth may taste sweeter, but I think I prefer the rich flavour of a man in his prime."

A smouldering gleam sparked to life in Muraki's true eye. He seized Tsuzuki's hand and brought it to his lips. "In two nights' time, everyone will be trembling in terror and awe of you."

"We may not have that long. Enma will send other shinigami to deliver the summons and arrest me for insubordination."

"Then we must do our best to accelerate your development. More frequent feeding sessions are in order, ne?"

Tsuzuki lowered his gaze. Hisoka and the other shinigami would thank him later for his dereliction of duty. He could no longer serve Enma and be a member of the Shoukanka. With his unsealed powers, he was potentially more dangerous than any demon now.

They were better off without him...and so was Muraki. But Muraki needed him and his essence too much.

Tsuzuki only hoped he could energise Muraki with enough power so Muraki could save himself when the time came.

Muraki lifted his jaw. "What is it? Why are you sad?"

"I...I'm not. There's just something I need to do." He took out a barrier fuda and transformed it into a crested white swallow. "Watch over her for me," he said.

The bird trilled in assent. It flew through the glass and perched at the foot of the girl's bed.

Tsuzuki turned to Muraki. "Well?" He held out his hand. "What are we waiting for?"

Muraki smiled took his hand. "Nothing at all."

They dematerialised as one in a whirlwind of black and white feathers.

---

Ch 30 notes:

1. Hisoka's flashback sequence quotes dialogue from Demon's Trill (Theria translation) and Storybook arc (Senshigakuen translation).

2. Muraki's mention of Hisoka coming from a cursed family line is a reference from YnM Volume 12 (published in Japan early 2010). It's also found in Theria's Hanayume translations.

3. Thanks so much who have left feedback. If you notice any plot holes or inconsistencies with earlier chapters, please let me know. I try to maintain consistency as best I can, but I find it really hard at times because I am so slow.

---

Hisoka materialised inside Tatsumi's office, clutching an unconscious Gushoshin under each arm. His clothes were rumpled and frayed, while his chestnut hair was tangled and sticking up at odd angles.

Tatsumi dropped the pen he was holding. "Kurosaki-kun? What happened? Are you hurt?"

Hisoka's only reply was a hostile glare. He marched past Tatsumi's desk and through the adjoining doorway into Chief Konoe's office.

"Tsuzuki's gone missing, Chief. He's been possessed by Saagatanus again. I tried to seal him with a binding spell, but he broke free and escaped."

"Saagatanus?" Chief Konoe stood up, bushy eyebrows raised. "It can't be! Are you sure?"

"I saw the black wings sprouting from Tsuzuki's back. He was acting out of character too. The real Tsuzuki would never have..." Hisoka flushed, his cheeks bright red.

"I see." Chief Konoe exchanged looks with Tatsumi, who was standing in the doorway.

"Nothing happened! I didn't give him a chance to do anything." Hisoka dumped both bird spirits on the floor. "Muraki's mixed up in this. I think he cast a spell on the Gushoshin. I'm going to need back-up to find them."

Tatsumi cleared his throat. "Chief, I request leave from my secretarial duties to accompany Kurosaki-kun to the land of the living."

"No!" Hisoka's vehemence surprised them all, including Hisoka himself. "I mean...I'd rather have Watari-san with me. He told me he's done some background research for Tsuzuki-"

"Very well. Take both Tatsumi and Watari with you." Chief Konoe's gruff voice left no room for negotiation.

Inside the elevator, Hisoka went to the far corner, folded his arms across his chest and stared at the floor. Tatsumi pressed the button to Watari's lab and remained by the door.

"Do you have any objection to my assistance on this assignment?" he asked mildly.

Hisoka shook his head. "No, of course not. I...I didn't want to inconvenience you, that's all."

"It's no inconvenience, Kurosaki-kun. The welfare of all EnmaCho employees is my responsibility as secretary."

Some more than others. Only by biting his lower lip did Hisoka kept the retort to himself.

Tatsumi didn't trust him. Tatsumi didn't believe in him. Tatsumi had kept the truth from him like everyone else. How was he supposed to protect Tsuzuki when he was the last to know what was going on? By withholding what he knew of Muraki's involvement, Tatsumi had placed him in an untenable position - and it left him seething.

They found Watari sitting at his desk, staring into space. His glasses lay atop an open book. 003 was fluttering above his head, hooting to catch his attention.

"Watari-san?" Hisoka shook his shoulder. "Watari-san, wake up!"

Tatsumi waved a hand before Watari's blank gaze. "He seems to be in a trance. Don't tell me he's taken one of his crazy potions again." He turned the swivel chair around so Watari faced him. "Watari-san! Can you hear me?"

No response. Watari was staring past him into the distance. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

Tatsumi touched his forehead. "Kurosaki-kun, bring a glass of water." When Hisoka was out of the room, he lightly slapped Watari's face. "Hey, Watari-san! Wake up!"

"Critical updates downloaded," Watari murmured in a monotone. "Reboot in progress."

Tatsumi frowned. Had Watari started acting like a computer after staring at one for too long?

Watari suddenly blinked and looked up. "Hey, Tatsumi! What a nice surprise!" His brown eyes crinkled in a cheerful smile. "What are you doing down here?"

"Err...I..." Tatsumi was at a loss for words. "Are you all right? Do you remember what happened?"

"I'm fine! I was just at my desk when..." The colour drained from his face. He swiveled his chair around, and stared at the book for several seconds. "I...I must've had a migraine attack."

Relieved at seeing her master return to normal, 003 landed on Watari's shoulder and peered closely at him.

Tatsumi watched his hunched shoulders. "I didn't know you suffered from migraine."

"It's been a while...but I'll be fine." He shut the book and put on his glasses. "Oh, Bon! You're here as well! How are you today?"

Hisoka handed him the glass of water. "Are you all right? You were in a daze when we came down here."

"Hahaha! No, no, it's nothing serious! It's just a migraine!" He took a gulp of water. "I feel much better. Now what can I do for you?"

As Hisoka explained the day's events, Tatsumi went around Watari to take a peek at the book. It was an old leather-bound Bible with a cross engraved in gold on the cover.

"Saagatanus possess Tsuzuki again? Oh no, Bon, that's impossible! Saaga's not in a position to bother Tsuzuki. If anything-"

"But I saw the black wings on his back! I swear, it was exactly like last time! I'm sure Muraki's collaborating with Saagatanus in some way to take over Tsuzuki's body! We've got to go back and find him before it's too late!"

"Okay, okay! You can count on me!" He patted Hisoka on the back. "Don't worry, Bon. Tsuzuki is tougher than he looks. We'll find him soon enough."

003 landed on Hisoka's shoulder and hooted her support.

"What were you reading?" Tatsumi flicked through the pages of the Bible. "Something relevant to this case?"

"Nah, nothing much. I was just brushing up on my knowledge of Christianity." Watari chuckled sheepishly and scratched his head. "I was never much good at religious studies. It always sent me to sleep."

---

In the Hall of Candles, Hakushaku was far from happy. After much debate with Watson, he had decided to keep the violet candle in one of the underground dungeons. Watson insisted that a room lined by sandstone would be easier to fireproof than coating the walls of an elegant salon room with fireproof plaster.

Much to Hakushaku's annoyance, some of his prized collection of bondage sex toys had to be moved elsewhere to make room.

"I suppose it makes no difference," he sighed as Watson trudged past, puny frame dwarfed by the stack of whips, handcuffs, chains, vibrators and other assorted items he carried in his arms. "It's not as if I get to use them much nowadays."

From behind prison bars, the violet flame burned bright and strong. The candle wax remained perilously low. The puddle of melted wax was growing in size around it.

"Nothing in the material world lasts forever. Forming attachments to mortals only ends in heartbreak and sorrow." He turned away, his mask shaking from side to side. "Silly child. He's been reincarnated enough times to learn, yet he insists on making the same mistakes again and again." He tsked to himself as he made his way upstairs. "Well, I hope he enjoys it while it lasts. Once the gold raven snares the jade rabbit, I'm afraid the reckoning will begin."

---

Tsuzuki lay on his side in Muraki's bed, one black wing stretched against the mattress, the other curled over his head as if he wanted to hide his face in embarrassment. He was nude apart from the downy feathers that lined his nape, shoulders and back. He trembled, lips parted as he panted for breath. He clutched the sheets for support.

"What will you do...if I lose my power? What if...my essence runs out?"

Muraki was seated between Tsuzuki's thighs, his head bent over Tsuzuki's crotch. One of Tsuzuki's knees was hooked over his shoulder, while the other was left to splay open across Muraki's lap. When Tsuzuki tried to bring the knee up, Muraki pushed it down, spreading his thighs apart for easier access.

"Fool." Muraki lapped reverently at the crown of the erection with his tongue. "You and your essence are eternal."

"But...something might happen." Tsuzuki's breath caught in his throat as Muraki swallowed him down again. "My essence might be resealed...my power taken from me." He tried to steel himself against the exquisite delight. "Would you still do this...if I wasn't rich in Wood energy?"

"Of course not." Muraki's teeth nibbled at the smooth flesh of his inner thigh. "What would be the use?" From his position between Tsuzuki's parted thighs, Muraki eyed him with sardonic amusement, deliberately ignoring the slick erection prodding his cheek and jaw.

The message was crystal clear: he was the helpless prey, Muraki the triumphant predator.

"Then again," Muraki continued with a sly smile, "as long as you nourish me, I won't need to seek out another. It all depends on you, doesn't it?" He rubbed his cheek against Tsuzuki's inner thigh, then lowered his head once more, saving Tsuzuki the effort of making a reply.

Muraki didn't want an answer; he was only after essence. A few minutes later, Tsuzuki's desire-wracked body was more than ready to grant Muraki his wish.

The black panther lay on the floor, glowing green eyes watching them intently. When Muraki was done, it began lashing its tail loudly against the floor.

Muraki glared across at it. "What do you want?"

"Your lecherous conduct is unseemly. You feed from him too much. You must show proper respect to the Light!"

"Be silent. As the one who awakened Tsuzuki-san, I know best how to accelerate his development."

The panther raised its head high. The drumming tail grew louder. "I am here to bear witness to the Light, not to watch you indulge in a feeding orgy."

Tsuzuki propped himself up on his elbows. He'd completely forgotten about Muraki's feline familiar. Somehow being observed in the throes of passion felt more shameful when the observer was a large panther instead of a domestic cat.

"I've seen you before, haven't I?" he said to the panther. His black wings swept over his shoulders like a feathered cape, providing a semblance of modesty.

"You remember me?"

"I think so." Tsuzuki studied it for a long moment. "Your eyes look familiar."

The panther rose to its feet and came towards him. "Then look closer. Look into my eyes and remember."

With an impatient sigh, Muraki lounged against the headboard, knees bent in front of him. "Go on. She has been longing to tell you, and your ears are finally attuned to hear her."

"She?" Tsuzuki turned back to the panther. "I didn't know you were a..."

But the panther was gone. Instead his entire vision was filled with aqua green, the beautiful blue-green colour of a warm tropical sea. It then faded into a dark grey, and suddenly he was surrounded by dark storm clouds and buffeted by a howling gale.

Tsuzuki turned around. Before him floated a bearded grey dragon with flowing white mane and a long serpentine body that seemed to disappear in the surrounding clouds. Her brilliant eyes, fringed by long lashes, glowed aqua green.

"I know you! Muraki summoned you into battle the first time I fought him in Nagasaki! You're...Ohryuu!"

The dragon blinked - and Tsuzuki found himself back in Muraki's bedroom once more.

"The very same," Muraki agreed. "It took you long enough."

"How was I supposed to recognise her? The last time I saw Ohryuu, she was a huge dragon!"

"Forgive me." Crestfallen, the panther hung its head. "I don't have the energy to reveal my true form."

"No, no! It's not your fault. You're still terrifying and impressive, even if you are sealed. I can see it in your eyes." Tsuzuki patted the creature's head as if it were an oversized pet dog.

Muraki raised an eyebrow.

The panther froze at his touch. "I...I am honoured you remember me."

"I hope Suzaku Nee-san wasn't too rough with you! She likes shrieking and breathing fire in battle, but she's really quite nice when you get to know her."

"Would you like to unseal Ohryuu, the Wind dragon?" Muraki asked.

"Me?" Tsuzuki withdrew his hand. "I don't know if I can. You said a powerful spellcaster sealed her-"

"Indeed, and it will take a powerful spellcaster to break it. Now that Wood energy is awakened within you, you have the power to leech the energy from any source - positive or negative - and harness it for yourself." Muraki shifted closer to Tsuzuki and ran his fingers over the downy feathers lining Tsuzuki's upper back. "Why don't you see if you have the power to unseal her and set her free?"

Tsuzuki swatted Muraki with his wing. "Who sealed her?"

"What does it matter? A spell is a spell is a spell." Muraki held the wingtip in front of him and extended the delicate limb. The black feathers fanned out before him. "Beautiful," he murmured. "Simply beautiful."

"Were you sealed in feline form after the battle in Nagasaki?" Tsuzuki asked the panther.

"No. I was sealed centuries ago. I remained in the form of a kitten until I was discovered by the one who bore witness to the Light. By drinking blood blessed by the Light, I was able to break free of the seal for several minutes at a time and assume my true form."

"I found her sheltering between trash cans in an alleyway one night," Muraki explained. He wrapped Tsuzuki's wing around his shoulders to create a makeshift wrap for himself. "Such is the fate of demons who refuse to accept Duke Ashitarote's authority."

"Then why can't she break free of the seal now? You still feed her, don't you?"

Muraki sighed. "My blood only offered temporary respite from the seal, and that was back when I was granted the indulgence of regenerative potential. Today my blood is not as potent as it once was. Now the best I can do is sustain her sealed form."

"But today I have been strengthened by the Light!" The piercing yowl was now a triumphant roar. "The Light has nourished us with his flesh and blood! Praise be to the Light!"

"Shh! Not so loud!"

"Indeed he has," Muraki replied. "But the big question is whether Tsuzuki-san will break your seal and set you free."

Tsuzuki's hand hovered above the animal's head. "Was it Enma-DaiOh who sealed her?"

Muraki's lips twisted. "Enma does not need to perform such menial tasks when he has his own official department, named in his honour, to do the work for him, does he?"

So it had to be a former Shinigami - perhaps someone who served in the Shoukanka long before he arrived in Meifu. Someone like him with strong emotional ties to the material world, who was willing to fight demons and reap souls so he or she could occasionally walk among the living again.

"There are obscure records in the JuOhCho database about a failed demonic revolt against Duke Ashitarote. It was supposedly led by a demon that used the power of Wind. I don't suppose you had anything to do with that, did you?" he asked the panther.

The creature's eyes glowed. "That was the last time I swirled through the clouds as a free agent. I didn't want to forfeit my Wind energy or be imprisoned in a virtual world." It sauntered to the far end of the bed, as if contemplating whether it could leap on the mattress to join them. At Muraki's forbidding glare, it settled for lounging on the carpeted floor.

"In Chinese folklore, she is known as Yinglong, the winged rain-dragon," Muraki said. "The kanji for her name means 'the dragon who answers.' When crops are threatened by drought, farmers would call on her for help. Using Wind to gather the clouds, she answers their prayers with plentiful rainfall."

"I always answer the prayers of those who call on me." The panther puffed out its chest, very proud with itself.

"So you're similar to Souryuu. Souryuu is a Water shikigami, while you use Wind to bring water as rain."

"Naturally. We dragons have close ties to water, regardless of our energy type - which was why the terms Duke Ashitarote negotiated with Enma were abhorrent to me." The panther snorted in disgust. "Why would I willingly sacrifice the cleansing purity of Wind for the foul stench of Fire?"

"Unseal Ohryuu," Muraki murmured. He pulled the wing up around his neck to create a feathery black scarf for himself. "Unseal Ohryuu so she can return to her rightful place in the heavens as bringer of rain."

Outside, a brilliant sunset cast the clear sky in burnished orange-pink. It would be a warm, humid evening. A cooling summer shower would bring welcome relief from the heat.

Tsuzuki slowly unfurled his wing from Muraki's shoulders. "If I unseal Ohryuu, who would she answer to - me or you?"

"Why wouldn't she answer to us both?" Muraki grasped the trailing wingtip and drew it back. "Now that you've abandoned Enma, our goal is one and the same."

Tsuzuki resented Muraki's proprietorial manner. The delicate flexor muscles of his wing trembled, resisting Muraki's grasp. "Is it? I'm not so sure."

Muraki's grip tightened. "Aren't you?"

"No, I'm not." Tsuzuki refused to be cowed. No matter what violence Muraki used, the black wings would regenerate like the rest of him. His innate Wood energy wouldn't be suppressed any longer.

Muraki seemed to realize this too. His stern expression eased into a lazy, seductive grin. "In that case, I must do my best to persuade you otherwise." He slid his hand up along the wing and shoulder, until his fingers idly stroked the downy nape of Tsuzuki's neck.

A tempting diversion, but hardly an answer. Tsuzuki lowered his head, as if to encourage his caress. "You don't answer to me, do you? You only answer to the full moon, Gyokuto."

Muraki's fingers froze.

"I've been remembering things ever since I started seeing you. I'm not sure if it's my own memories coming back or you're planting them in my mind...but they do strike a chord within me."

Muraki's fingers fell away. "What do you remember?"

"As a child, I was shunned for being different. I had no one to play with apart from my sister. So my mother would console me by making me look up at the night sky. She'd tell me there were spirits in the heavens waiting for me to call them, and one day they would be my friends. So I'd lift my arms up to the moon and call your name, because you were the only one I knew."

For once, Muraki was silent. His true eye gazed at Tsuzuki with a piercing intensity as if he was searching for something important.

"You took your time answering me, didn't you?" Tsuzuki reached up to brush away the silver bangs. The glowing retracted false eye didn't frighten him. "But it's all right. You don't have to hide yourself anymore. I'll wait for the full moon with you." He leaned forward to kiss Muraki on the forehead.

Muraki held him back. "Don't call me that."

"But you don't deny it, do you?"

Muraki closed his eyes. "The white rabbit sleeps, and yet he does not sleep. He has died, and yet he is not dead."

"Enough riddles, Muraki." Tsuzuki unfurled his black wings. "As you can see, I'm no white rabbit."

Muraki eyed them with hungry longing. "Neither am I." His hands crept up to ruffle the downy feathers lining Tsuzuki's back. "I'm no one's rabbit." He suddenly drew his nails down the length of Tsuzuki's back. Tufts of bloody black feathers fell onto the mattress.

Tsuzuki twitched and arched. He retaliated by digging his nails into Muraki's shoulders. "You said you were mine," he murmured against Muraki's ear. "I'll call you what I like."

Muraki seized one wing. Tsuzuki flapped to free it, but it was no use. With a brutal twist, Muraki dislocated the wing at the socket joint adjacent to his shoulder blade. The pain made Tsuzuki cry out.

"And you are mine," Muraki reminded him. There was a maniacal glitter of jealousy in his true eye. "No one else may feed from you. No one else may touch you. I have pledged more to you than anyone. Your flesh, your essence - from now on, every inch of you belongs to me!"

"I only let your cat feed from me because I wanted to be rid of my wings! You had just deserted me for Hisoka, remember? Why should I be exclusive to you when you're not exclusive to me?"

Muraki's anger settled into a brooding contemplation. "Now you know how I feel. I was jealous of your shinigami comrades. I was jealous of your twelve shikigami. I was jealous of anyone who happened to divert your attention from me." He let the wing go. "I don't want to be just another worshipper."

"What are you talking about? I don't have any worshippers apart from you-"

"Glory be to the Light!" the panther roared. "Let us give thanks to the Light that guides us!"

"-and Ohryuu, I guess."

"When you finally awaken, you will have countless worshippers." Muraki's tone was flat.

Would he? Tsuzuki couldn't imagine it. His shikigami had been forgotten over the centuries - he was the only one who called on them now. Why would he, God of Wood, fare any better?

"I don't want countless worshippers." Tsuzuki drew his broken wing around him. He could feel the tug of muscle and sinew knitting the joint back into place. "As a child, all I ever wanted was someone to play with - someone who would accept me for who I am." He reclined on the mattress, injured wing partially cloaking his nude body. "Someone I could call Gyokuto-sama."

"I'll never be your bunny, but I'm more than ready to play."

"Never ever?" The memory of the time a zombie-like Muraki willingly acquiesced to his advances came to mind. "Not even when you're under the influence of your mysterious kagetsu spell?"

"Never ever." Muraki's icy gaze promised retribution if Tsuzuki dared to repeat the experience.

Tsuzuki's arm moved beneath his wing in a slow, steady rhythm. "What do you know of Kinu, the gold raven who symbolises the sun?"

"The sun holds no interest for me." Muraki lay beside him. From this angle, he could just see Tsuzuki stroking himself beneath the cloaking feathers. "I only wait for the rise of the full moon."

"Kinu is rumoured to serve Enma-DaiOh."

Muraki's gaze narrowed. "So what does Kinu do? Sing in a gilded cage for Enma's amusement?

"Gushoshin Elder told me he works with the JuOhCho supercomputer. No one has ever met him in person, but he's said to be brilliant, all-knowing and wise."

"Really?" Muraki drawled. "Well, I suppose it's easy to claim to be all-knowing when you have Enma's database of human knowledge at your fingertips." He reached under Tsuzuki's wing. His sure, firm grip stroked and squeezed until Tsuzuki was erect once more.

"Mmm...maybe you're right. Still, I wish I could meet Kinu for myself." Tsuzuki reached across to reciprocate, only to find Muraki was already hard.

Muraki pushed Tsuzuki on his back and rolled on top. He slid their cocks together in a steady rocking motion. "What for?" he asked. "Do you want to play with him too?"

"No..." Tsuzuki's reply was more groan than answer. He couldn't escape, not with Muraki gripping his wrists like manacles. Pinned against the mattress, his injured wing still hurt...but it was rapidly overwhelmed by the erotic sensations of Muraki's cock rubbing against his. "I...I just wanted to ask him..."

"Ask him what?" Muraki's voice was a husky growl against Tsuzuki's throat.

"...what use Enma-DaiOh has for human knowledge...when he already owns the collective energy of billions of human souls." Tsuzuki wound his legs around Muraki's hips to bind them closer.

Muraki exhaled. "A good question." He lifted Tsuzuki's hips higher, until his erection slid between the cleft of Tsuzuki's ass. "A very...good...question."

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. He wasn't going to get an answer...and, to be honest, he didn't particularly care. There were other pressing urges that needed to be satisfied first.

Having done this so many times, he didn't require much preparation.

Tsuzuki's lips parted in a low moan as Muraki filled him to the hilt.

Even now, he didn't completely trust Muraki and his motives. He wasn't ready to unseal Ohryuu or restore life to a sick girl at the drop of a hat simply because Muraki asked it of him. But if Muraki ever found the self-discipline to withhold sexual favours as a bargaining chip...then Tsuzuki knew his resistance would crumble like a house of cards.

His hands, now free, clutched Muraki's broad shoulders for support against the driving thrusts inside him - pleasuring him, punishing him, until he forgot everything except the man who held him in ecstatic thrall.

For this, he deserted his friends at the Shoukanka. For this, he risked the wrath of Enma-DaiOh and the entire JuOhCho administration. For this, he wore the black wings of a fallen angel. For the mind-blowing pleasure of Muraki's ruthless possession, he would do absolutely anything.

His capitulation was complete.

---

Hisoka took Tatsumi and Watari to the park where he last saw Tsuzuki.

"So he dematerialised here while you were chanting the binding spell?" Tatsumi asked.

"Yes. Before he disappeared, he said he refused to deliver the summons...and that the dog was free of the leash. That must be a reference to Saagatanus."

Tatsumi knelt down to pick up a stray black feather. "Perhaps." He scanned the ground for clues. "What else did he say before he left?"

Hisoka frowned. The events happened so fast it was all jumbled in his mind. "Well, initially he claimed he wasn't possessed. He showed me the feathers growing from his back, and he was acting all sad and apologetic about not being human. He started talking gibberish about energy growing inside him. He was in complete denial about his condition - then suddenly he started calling me his 'lamb' and making a pass at me!"

Watari stroked his chin. The long shadows cast by the hulking tree stump several metres away had caught his attention.

Tatsumi noticed it too. "That tree looks out of place. Was it there when you arrived?"

"I don't think so." Hisoka walked towards it. "Actually, I was lying under a big tree when I awoke from the trance. But it wasn't dead - it was covered in leaves."

003 flew from Watari's shoulder to land on a thick overhanging branch. She scratched her talons against the gnarled wood and hooted.

"Looks pretty dead now." Watari kicked at an exposed root with his boot. He looked past the stump to the streetlights in the distance. "Hey, isn't that a hospital?"

"You're right." Hisoka became excited. "That reminds me! We heard Norata's daughter was ill, so Tsuzuki and Gushoshin Elder went looking for her in the local hospitals! She might be a patient here!"

"Good thinking, Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi said. "Let's take a look."

Watari hung back. "Why don't you and Bon go on ahead? I'll search this area for more clues."

When they were gone, Watari let out a sigh of relief. He preferred to work alone. It gave him the freedom to take certain liberties a regular shinigami wouldn't get away with.

"Is this your doing, Tsuzuki? And the moon isn't quite full yet either." He placed a hand on the massive tree trunk and whistled in admiration. "I wish I was here to witness it. I've always been sceptical about the legends surrounding you and your kind." He looked up at the tangled branches looming over him. "I've got to hand it to you Gods. You don't do anything by halves - which should make finding you a cinch. Unfortunately, there isn't room in this universe for two Guardians of Wood."

He pulled out a pencil and writing pad, and started drawing. When he was finished, he ripped off the sheet and flung it into the air. By the time it floated down, the paper had transformed into the subject he'd drawn - a perfect copy of himself.

"Have fun." Watari winked at his copy. "Take good care of him, 003!" He slowly dematerialised as he sauntered away towards the street.

---

Ch 31 notes:

I'm sorry for not updating for so long. I was become frustrated with my own writing...and then I heard tales about stories being auto-reported which scared me a lot. Thanks once again to those of you who've taken the time to write feedback - I really appreciate it so much. This chapter is deliberately shorter than usual because I feel shorter chapters might be a better way to increase the story's pace. I hope it'll also give me an incentive to make more regular updates - fingers crossed!

---

Back in his human form as an elderly man, Genbu shuffled through the corridors of Tenkuu Palace with granite staff in one hand, flaming torch in the other. He carefully descended down a series of dim staircases until he reached a barred door located deep within the depths of the fortress.

"Is that you, Black Warrior?" Tenkuu rumbled, his booming voice echoing through the corridor. "What brings you down here?"

"Open the door," Genbu replied. "I'm here on our master's behalf."

The bar slid aside, and the door swung open.

The room was large yet bare. Sandstone lined the walls from floor to ceiling. The flickering torchlight illuminated the pair of metal chains and manacles that hung from the walls. A matching pair lay on the cobblestone floor. There were no windows or alternative exits. The air was dank and cold.

"Are you after a place to meditate in peace and quiet? A period of solitary confinement in one of my dungeons might be the perfect retreat for you."

Genbu ignored him. Tsuzuki had told him he wanted a secure place to house a chimera - a chimera who moved like the wind and swept aside modern-day bullets and machinery with consummate ease. An ancient dungeon alone was unlikely to be enough.

Genbu shook his head, his beard swaying in time. "Not good enough. If all your dungeons are this poor, you'll have no hope of containing the new exhibit."

"Who? Who? Am I to have a new prisoner?"

"Yes, a defiant Metal chimera. We four Guardians bore witness to his creation many moons ago. Finally he has returned to fulfill his covenant."

"Hmph! I didn't bear witness to anything!" Tenkuu grumbled. "Why aren't all twelve of us summoned when Tsuzuki breaks down and loses his mind?"

"Because we are the Guardians of the Four Directions. We were the very first ones he summoned at the dawn of time. When he falls into despair and regresses to the God he once was, he summons us to his side."

"Our master doesn't regress often, does he? You Four Guardians spend more time pining for his call than dancing on the earth as the great shikigami you once were!"

"That will change," Genbu assured him. "This time his consciousness is stirring. This chimera is preparing the way - the Moon's celestial power is strong within him."

"The Moon? So you think you've found a new candidate to be the Jade Hare?" Tenkuu was unimpressed. "Why do you still believe that silly old prophecy? The Guardian of the Centre has hardly stirred for centuries. He has been reborn time and time again, and remained asleep throughout. In his current incarnation, he has never shown interest in wielding his powers. The Sun, the Moon, and the Planets could prostrate themselves before him, and he would still sleep!"

Genbu sighed. His long moustache fluttered with his breath. "I'm not so maudlin as to wallow in the past. I know the energy of the Moon has been dispersed and forgotten, even more so than Wood. The mythical Jade Hare will never dance again among us fully formed." He stamped his staff on the ground. "But this chimera is unusually strong in Moon energy - I can sense it. His persistent devotions have been impossible for our master to ignore."

"Hmph!" Tenkuu grumbled. "If anything, it is easier to envisage Tsuzuki as the docile white rabbit than the Elemental Guardian of Wood."

"Perhaps so." Genbu shuffled out of the dungeon. "But we Guardians know Tsuzuki is the one. Long before humans walked the earth and created the language we use today, he christened us with the primordial names that brought us into being. "

A shikigami's primordial name was a special name invested with great power. It was kept secret from humankind, for it was considered too dangerous to be spoken aloud in a moment of anger or frustration.

The first time Tsuzuki had uttered it, he was a teenage boy fleeing a lynch mob of villagers calling for his head. Cornered and exhausted, he had fallen to the ground and released his fury and frustration in one ear-splitting howl - a howl so powerful it had pierced the tranquil peace of Gensoukai.

It was a lament for things lost and never gained. Filled with such despair and anguish, it was impossible for one to hear it and remain unmoved.

To Genbu and the other three Guardians - Suzaku of the South, Souryuu of the East, and Byakko of the West - it brought tears to their eyes. At last, someone was giving voice to the aching sense of loss they endured ever since they were separated from the world they had helped to create. At last, someone was acknowledging their longing to return.

At long last, someone was calling them by the names they thought they would never hear again. So they answered him in the only way they knew.

You humans are mere insects! I shall incinerate the lot of you for your heresy!

I shall drown your wretched families, and wash away your foul existence!

My wind shall turn your homes into rubble! The material possessions you hold dear shall be blown to the four corners of the earth!

Foolish humans! May the earth swallow your corpses whole! Foolish, foolish humans!

Their new master had watched the carnage unfold in shock, then wonder...and eventually stark horror. It would take another eight years before he would encounter them again, memory conveniently cloaked, as a new Shinigami on the hunt for shikigami. He had forgotten their first fateful encounter completely.

But they remembered - and they were willing to wait until he remembered too.

The chimera had been the first to revive some of Tsuzuki's dormant memories. No doubt he had his own objectives for doing so, but as long as he continued to aid in Tsuzuki's development, no shikigami would harm him. For now, he was of great use to them.

And as long as Tsuzuki continued to tend to him, there was always a chance the Jade Hare of legend could rise again and prepare the way for them all...

Genbu waved at the dungeon doorway with his staff. "As I said before, you will have to improve your act if you are going to house the chimera securely."

"Do you insult me? No prisoner has ever escaped my dungeons! Anyone caught in my bowels is trapped there forever unless I show them leniency! Ask the Fire Snake yourself if you want proof!"

"But have you ever housed one dominant in Metal and Wind? Cast-iron locks and bolts and chains won't be enough to restrain this one."

Tenkuu slammed the dungeon door shut and slid the bar across. "Hmm. Give me time to modify one of my existing dungeons. Chimera or not, it will be a pleasure to tailor one suitable for a new inmate."

---

Tsuzuki opened his eyes. He was in a dark room lit by flickering torches. In front of him was a crowd of various humanoid creatures with animal-like heads - some avian, some reptilian, other mammalian. Some wore flowing robes, while others wore traditional armour. They all had their backs to him.

As he moved towards them, he could hear the muffled sounds of someone sobbing. He stood on tiptoe, but he couldn't see past the crowd.

"I warned you, didn't I? I warned you of the consequences of breaching the terms of your tenure."

Tsuzuki froze. He knew that dry, raspy voice. He hadn't heard it for a long time...but he would remember that distinctive voice anywhere.

"I...know, DaiOh-sama." The wavering words came between heart-wrenching sobs.

"As a Shinigami, you serve me and me alone. Your powers are not to be used for your own selfish gain. What were you doing in the land of the living last night?"

"Nothing! I...I just felt...a bit homesick, I guess. I...I missed being around a real garden...so I just went for a walk in a park."

Some of the creatures gasped. Others shook their heads.

"Why is he allowed to wander through the land of the living so freely?" one muttered to another.

"Well, is it any wonder? He's DaiOh-sama's most successful reaper to date."

Tsuzuki could just make out the rest of the room through the haze of smoke and incense. Situated atop a dais was a man reclining on a chaise lounge. He wore elaborate embroidered silk robes that seemed to glow with their own otherworldly light. It was EnmaDaiOh - absolute ruler of Meifu.

"A real garden? And what is wrong with the gardens we have here in Meifu? Are you saying the eternally flourishing gardens of Meifu are less beautiful than the decaying gardens of the material world?"

The crowd fell silent, waiting for the answer.

"No...they're perfect...too perfect." The sobbing eased into awkward hiccups. "They don't need me...there's nothing I can do for them. It's not like the land of the living..."

Enma sat up, his long black hair cascading down his shoulders and casting a shadow over his eyes. "Are you saying you prefer that ugly place - that world that reeks of the stench of decay and death?"

"No! But I just...I just wanted to help out. I used to love gardening. I thought I could help the plants there grow and flourish..."

The crowd let out a collective gasp.

Tsuzuki wanted to turn and run. He wanted to block his ears. But like a sleepwalker who couldn't control himself, he found himself inching forward through the crowd for a closer look.

"Really?" Enma stood up, and the flames stopped moving. The flickering shadows became still. "Then why were you interfering with that human?"

Below the dais was a man in a black trenchcoat grovelling on his hands and knees. His face was so low to the floor it was impossible to see his face. "I didn't mean to do it! I swear I didn't mean to do it! It was an accident!"

Enma strode down the dais. His black hair flowed in mid-air around him. He stood over the grovelling supplicant. "Taking human life without a summons is expressly forbidden. You know that, don't you?"

Without lifting his gaze, the man nodded. "I know, DaiOh-sama! I didn't forget! He was about to kill himself! I was trying to save him, I swear!"

"Were you?" Enma crouched beside him. "Then I'd hate to see what would've happened if you tried harming him. Are you sure you haven't gone back to your old habits?"

"No, no! I'm not like that anymore!" He started sobbing again. "I swear I'm not, DaiOh-sama!"

Enma rested his hand on the back of the man's head, making him flinch. "You know the consequences of disobedience, don't you?"

"Not the mirror! Please...not the mirror! Anything but that!"

Even as a mere bystander, Tsuzuki couldn't stop trembling in reaction.

"You haven't changed. You have been, and always shall be, a bloodthirsty creature." A cold smile curved Enma's lips as he caressed the dark hair beneath his fingertips. "But I knew that when I employed you. As long as you reap souls on my command alone, you'll live an afterlife of comfort and ease. But if you dare steal a single human soul in defiance of my authority, then be prepared to pay the price. Humanity is mine, and mine alone."

---

"Hush, Tsuzuki-san. It's all right."

Someone was holding him close, crooning his name. Lips caressed his lightly, coaxing them open to initiate a deeper kiss.

Tsuzuki opened his eyes. It was dark outside. A bedside lamp was the only illumination in the room. He was nude in Muraki's bed, being held in Muraki's arms. Muraki smelled of soap, as if he'd just come out of the shower.

"You had another bad dream, didn't you?"

"How did you know?"

"You were talking in your sleep." Muraki stroked the hair from his forehead. "I'm pleased your memory is returning."

"Do you think...I'm bloodthirsty?"

Muraki's brow lifted. "Not lately. You've only partaken of my flesh and blood on a few occasions so far."

"So how many times am I supposed to drink your blood? You're severely anaemic as it is, Gyokuto-sama ."

Muraki rolled away onto his back. "Don't call me that in jest."

"Why not?" Tsuzuki followed him by rolling on his stomach. "Genbu calls you a chimera: half-human, half..." His voice faded off uncertainly.

"Half what?"

Tsuzuki gazed at the false metallic eye. He could hear the taunts of the village children echoing in his mind.

You're a monster! Freak! Monster!

"It doesn't matter." Tsuzuki rested his head on Muraki's chest. He could still hear a heartbeat. "Then again, I guess that makes me a chimera too."

"Indeed you are. I was amazed to find non-human DNA in the skin samples collected by my grandfather - the forbidden DNA of a demon."

Once those words would have struck horror in Tsuzuki's heart - his deepest, darkest secret voiced aloud. But now - nothing. No soul-crushing guilt or catatonic-inducing despair. Muraki had taught him demons were not the monsters he had once believed them to be.

"You knew about my origins, yet you didn't know you'd made a contract with me until the lab fire in Kyoto. Tell me what happened. How did you find out?"

"You revealed yourself to me." Muraki clasped his hand and drew it down to his abdominal scars. "You unveiled your true nature for the very first time." His other hand idly stroked Tsuzuki's hair. "Bloodthirsty doesn't begin to describe it."

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. All he could remember was dark suffocating smoke...and Touda hovering over him, his thick black flames crackling around them both. "I acted...in self-defence."

"You attacked me while my back was turned."

"You drove me to it. Being your grandfather's guinea pig was bad enough - I didn't want to repeat the experience again." Tsuzuki traced the ridges and indentations of the thickened scar tissue. "Drive a dog into a corner, and eventually it will lose control and snap, right?"

"Mmm. I suppose so." Muraki's fingers stroked the sensitive nape of Tsuzuki's neck.

"Well, I'm no different...except I have little memory of what I've done once I regain consciousness."

"You were probably in some kind of dissociative state," Muraki murmured. "But you should have seen yourself: your face and hands splattered with my blood, your violet eyes burning with rage - you truly were a magnificent sight to behold."

Tsuzuki lifted his head. "You're not afraid, are you? This other side of me - it doesn't scare you at all."

"Why should I be afraid?" Muraki ruffled his hair. "This is all part of your true nature." His lips curved in a lopsided smile.

Tsuzuki felt a strange tightness in his chest. Why couldn't Muraki always be like this? "Aren't you afraid I'll turn on you again?" He ran his nails lightly along Muraki's scars.

"My Metal energy is growing, and with it my spiritual power. There is nothing for either of us to fear as long as Metal dominates Wood." His heavy-lidded gaze held an implicit challenge.

Tsuzuki sat up and stretched his wings high above his head, flaunting them for Muraki's benefit. "Wood may not be as easy to dominate as you think." He lowered himself to the bed so that his head was alongside Muraki's hip, and his legs tucked beside Muraki's head on the pillow.

"Well, well...I see your thirst for blood has been replaced by a different kind of thirst, hmm?"

Tsuzuki took hold of Muraki's lax cock. It twitched and stiffened in his grip. "What if Wood were to leech valuable minerals away from Metal?" He allowed his lips to hover tantalisingly over the crown. "What will you do then?"

Muraki's grin was wicked. "Get it back, naturally." He shifted across until his head was resting across Tsuzuki's splayed thighs, and Tsuzuki's cock was rapidly firming in his stroking hands. "Get back every single drop."

Tsuzuki shivered in anticipation. The last time they had tried this, the pleasure had been so unbearable he had ended it prematurely. But now he was ready to give it another try. The other Shinigami were after them, and the full moon was still too far away. If he was ever going to be the Guardian of Wood, he would have to do whatever it takes to rid himself of EnmaDaiOh's seal.

"You do that, Muraki." His voice was husky and thick - a voice he didn't recognise as his own. "You do that."

Muraki chuckled - and swallowed Tsuzuki down in one ravenous gulp.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. He was drowning in pleasure, exquisite pleasure...pleasure that rendered him as helpless as a kitten, even as it made him feel as powerful as a god. Every caress of Muraki's lips, every lash of his tongue, every touch of his skilled hands - all indicative of an insatiable hunger that refused to be denied.

Just like his hunger for regeneration and eternal life.

Tsuzuki lowered his lips to Muraki's cock. He ignored the voice inside his head warning that Muraki was only doing this to gain more power. He allowed the bulk of the erection to slide slowly past his lips, along his tongue. Normally he preferred sweets, but he made a special exception for Muraki. Something about the salty-bitter taste of the precome made his mouth water. He swallowed once, then twice...

...and it was like he was sucking himself off. His own cock was being suckled, slowly and steadily. Before he knew it, Tsuzuki found himself falling into the same hypnotic rhythm with his mouth, lips and tongue.

His head was spinning. He was lost. Utterly lost.

With a soft groan, he twisted his head, adjusting the angle so he could accommodate more of Muraki's cock. There, that was better. Much better. He was suckling like a man dying of thirst...and sinking into a surfeit of self-indulgent ecstasy.

Muraki wasn't the only one who took pleasure in imbibing essence.

We can't run, you and I. We are the same kind.

Tsuzuki's black wings fluttered wildly like a nervous bird. His cock was being exposed to cool air one second, and engulfed by the slick heat of Muraki's ravenous mouth the next. His hips bucked against the delight - only Muraki's grip over one hip kept him in place. His pleasure-wracked body was teetering on the precipice...

"I can't take this! Muraki...please..."

"Yes, you can." Muraki's voice was slurred with passion. "You can't run...or fly...now that I've caught you." He dug sharp nails into Tsuzuki's buttock. His other hand steadily stroked Tsuzuki's aching cock.

"I...I'm not going anywhere." Tsuzuki slid his lips along the shaft of Muraki's cock as proof. "But this...feels like torture..."

Muraki exhaled sharply. "Now you know how I feel. Now you know how everyone feels." He lapped at the oozing precome with his tongue. "Even sealed, you draw living and non-living beings to you like a magnet."

"No..." Tsuzuki didn't want to hear this now. "That's...untrue."

"Most have no idea why they find you attractive - they attribute it to personality or charisma or looks. But it's because of your energy...your irresistible Wood energy...the key to regeneration and-"

Tsuzuki silenced him the only way he could - he swallowed Muraki down whole. He suckled and gulped as if his very survival depended on it - doing to Muraki what Muraki had done earlier for him. He didn't want to hear about his powers. He didn't want to hear about his nature, true or otherwise. If Muraki didn't want him for himself, then at least he could make Muraki forget his supernatural attributes for the moment.

Muraki got the message. With an inarticulate growl, he devoured Tsuzuki once more.

Pleasure begetting pleasure in a spiral of ecstasy. A neverending cycle of one consuming the other, over and over, striving for a common goal. Tsuzuki had no idea where he ended and Muraki began. His entire world was spinning around him...spinning like the mysterious red spiral he had once seen in Muraki's eye.

Tsuzuki couldn't pull away to break the irresistible circuit of pleasure. His black wings shook and flapped wildly to no avail. He wanted to soar free, but only found himself sinking deeper and deeper...

Deeper into the the warm, wet confines of Muraki's mouth...and deeper as Muraki's cock slid inexorably down his own voracious throat.

This time, there would be no escape.

In a flurry of black feathers, he tumbled headlong into the abyss.

---

In the hospital's intensive care unit, the white swallow shikigami stood vigil at the foot of Keiko's bed. Norata-san and his wife did not notice it - their attention was devoted only on their ill daughter. Nurses and doctors wandered in and out, too preoccupied with the realities of the physical world to sense the presence of the little guardian spirit.

At one point, Keiko's eyes flickered open. Her mother called her name and squeezed her hand. Her father placed his hands together in prayer. But the girl's glazed eyes stared up at the ceiling.

The swallow flew to the head of the bed and cocked its head to one side. It let out a trill of greeting.

Keiko blinked. Her gaze shifted towards it.

Pleased at being noticed, the swallow bobbed its crested head and trilled again - a louder song of encouragement.

Keiko blinked again, then slowly closed her eyes.

The hopes of her parents sank. The swallow trilled a song to lift their spirits too, but their hearts were too weighed down by grief to hear it. They left shortly after.

The swallow stayed behind, watching and waiting as instructed. Occasionally it would eye the monitors with their zigzagging lines and changing digits out of curiosity.

Two people materialised in the room. Unlike the others, they had not entered through the doorway. Unlike the others, they both noticed the swallow at once.

"That's one of Tsuzuki's shikigami! What is it doing here?"

The swallow trilled and bobbed its head in greeting.

"Tsuzuki-san may have left it here as a sentinel." Tatsumi stroked his chin. "He may have located the rest of the family by now."

Hisoka moved gingerly to the bed. Being in hospital brought back bad memories of his own numerous admissions as a patient. He peered at the mass of tubing and wiring, the panels of equipment and blinking monitors. It was easier to focus on the high-tech gadgetry than the comatose young woman who depended on them for survival. "She's on full life support. It doesn't look as if she has much time left."

"True." Tatsumi's thoughtful gaze was on the shikigami. He held out his hand, inviting it to come to him. But it simply bobbed its head and remained perched by the bed.

Hisoka studied her face for the first time. She seemed a little older than he was when he died. It seemed such a shame to summon her for judgement so soon. Was she loved by her parents? Was death for her a premature end to a promising young life or a welcome release from a miserable existence?

I cursed him, and yet I saved him...I saved him from a fate worse than death.

Hisoka froze. The memory of Muraki's words sent chills down his spine...and filled him with self-disgust. Was he trying to justify the purpose of this morbid assignment with the same self-serving reasons Muraki used to justify weaving that wretched curse? Was he no better than the man who had callously brought an end to his own life?

"Are you all right, Kurosaki-kun?"

"Yes." Hisoka nodded furiously. "I...I just felt dizzy for a moment. I'm fine now."

"I see." Tatsumi wasn't convinced, but decided to change the topic. "Let's go outside for the time being. By leaving this shikigami as his eyes and ears, Tsuzuki-san is unlikely to return unless her condition worsens."

"Wait a minute. Can't we use the shikigami to lead us to Tsuzuki?" Hisoka lowered his head so he was eye-to-eye with the swallow. "You know where he is, don't you?"

The swallow stepped away from him, bobbing its head repeatedly in apology.

"It won't tell us because it's not a messenger shikigami," Tatsumi explained. "Its role is to watch over her, and it won't defy its master. Let's go, Kurosaki-kun."

Questions nagged at Hisoka's mind. When they materialised outside the hospital in the shadows of the foyer, he voiced his concerns aloud. "It doesn't make sense, Tatsumi-san. Why would Saagatanus do something like this?"

Tatsumi hesitated for a moment. "Do what?"

"Use one of Tsuzuki's shikigami to watch over her. Why didn't he just take her soul and be done with it?"

"Tsuzuki-san was probably still himself when he placed it by her bed." Tatsumi started walking, leaving Hisoka no choice but to follow.

Hisoka mulled it over. Bird shikigami were created by folding paper charms. They had the advantage of being discreet and unobtrusive, but their power was limited. The little swallow would be easily defeated by a demon like Saaga.

So who was it really watching out for? Muraki perhaps?

Tatsumi must have been thinking along the same lines, because he answered the unspoken question for him. "I suspect Tsuzuki-san posted it there to delay us from delivering the summons."

"So it was keeping a lookout for us?" At Tatsumi's nod, Hisoka exclaimed, "But why? It's just a fuda shikigami! If we had wanted to, we could've easily found a way to break through it!"

"It wouldn't have stopped us," Tatsumi agreed, "but it would've hindered us long enough for Tsuzuki-san to arrive on the scene."

"You...you mean Saaga, don't you? Tsuzuki would never disobey an order from EnmaDaioh-sama on purpose."

Tatsumi pushed his glasses up his nose. It was hard to make out his features in the evening shadows.

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Hisoka insisted. "I can't believe he'd betray us like that."

Tatsumi slowed to a stop. "No...I suppose you wouldn't. Tsuzuki-san has changed for the better these past few years." He seemed to be considering his next words with great care. "You...you've been very good for him, Kurosaki-kun. But sometimes I wonder whether he's been good for you."

"Good for me?" Hisoka repeated. He flushed and turned away, torn between confusion and embarrassment. "Well, he can be a lazy idiot...but he's helped me a lot as well. He's lifted my spirits when I've been low. He's given me encouragement when I doubted myself. Although I've never had another partner to compare him with, I'm sure he's been a good influence on me too."

"I'm glad to hear it, Kurosaki-kun." Tatsumi began walking again. "I'm glad to hear it."

But he wasn't. Hisoka could detect a hint of wistful sadness that made no sense at all. Was Tatsumi disappointed with him? Envious of him? But why?

"We should check up on Watari-san. Maybe he's found some useful clues in the park."

Tatsumi's abrupt tone seemed to quell further discussion...and Hisoka didn't have the courage to question him further. He quickened his pace to catch up.

---

Exhausted and satisfied for the moment, Muraki and Tsuzuki fell asleep entwined in a tangle of bodies and limbs.

Lying on the bedroom floor, Ohryuu rested her head between her paws. It wasn't her place to interfere, but she was worried. The two of them were feeding from each other repeatedly, with little regard for the consequences. They took an inordinate pleasure in the process, and were indulging themselves to an excessive degree.

Surely the Light had taken in enough energy to assume his true form by now. But he seemed to be waging an internal battle to suppress his full transformation. Maybe he preferred to remain human so he could continue feeding from the one he called Muraki.

To Ohryuu, Muraki was the Voice. He was the one who had called out to her in the spiritual wilderness of human civilization. It was he who told her and others who would listen about the Light who was to come.

Ohryuu sighed and lashed her tail. Being trapped in feline form was frustrating enough, but it was better to be sealed as a feline than a human. Humans were too attached to their frail bodies, and the fleeting pleasure to be derived from them.

Feeling restless, she padded to the living room. Muraki's spiritual barrier was now in place around the penthouse apartment, but she still felt obliged to do her part as security guard. She watched the evening view of Nagasaki by night, her eyes drawn to the rising gibbous moon. She longingly eyed the mesh metal bracelet Muraki had discarded on the coffee table.

One day, she would regain her Wind energy. Already her claws and teeth were Metal, a promising sign of things to come. But she was still a demon who needed to consume the spiritual energy of others to generate Fire - and sooner or later, she would have to feed again.

Although Muraki's vandalism the other night had left the intercom a wreck, the CCTV screen was now switched permanently on. A flicker of movement on the screen caught Ohryuu's attention. She reared up on her hind legs for a closer look.

A man with wavy long hair peered into the camera. He was gesticulating and speaking animatedly, but with the intercom out of order it was impossible to hear him.

Ohryuu scrambled to the bedroom to find Tsuzuki already hauling himself out of bed. His nude back was bare, free of the black wings.

"Is someone here? I sensed a strong spiritual presence a moment ago." He turned to Muraki, who was still sleeping soundly. He combed the stray strands of silver hair from his forehead. "Let him rest. I'll handle this."

"Your wings! Where are they?"

Tsuzuki felt his back. "I...I'm not sure. The excess energy in my body must've been transferred when we..." He got out of his bed, his face flushed. "Never mind." He cast a quick spell, and was dressed in his usual black trenchcoat outfit by the time he reached the lift doors.

"Do you know him?"

"Yeah, it's Watari. He's a Shinigami like me." Tsuzuki ran a hand through his hair. "I should've known he'd be the first to find us."

On the screen, Watari was holding up a book and pointing at it. Tsuzuki tried to read his lips without success.

"This place is shielded by a barrier spell," the panther said. "It won't be easy for him to enter."

"I wouldn't be so sure. What Watari lacks in supernatural power he makes up for with ingenuity." Tsuzuki pulled out some bloodstained illusion fuda. "It might be easier to let him in and find out what he wants. I can make doubles of myself and Muraki to-"

"Tsk tsk, Tsuzuki-san," a laconic voice drawled. "Don't tell me you're going to be so rude as to hide from our guest?"

Leaning by the lift doors, looking dishevelled, disreputable...and too devastatingly sexy for his own good was Muraki in his white yukata.

"You know what this means, don't you? He knows about us! He knows we're here!"

"Who?" Without his glasses, Muraki had to peer closely at the screen. "Oh, the engineer. Maybe he's come to give us his blessing."

"Muraki! This is no laughing matter! He's here to arrest me for failing to deliver the summons!"

Muraki put an arm around Tsuzuki's shoulders. "Then let him try. We have nothing to be ashamed of, do we?"

Considering what they had been doing earlier, Tsuzuki wasn't so sure. "Shouldn't you go and get dressed?"

"I am dressed. This is what I normally wear at home."

"His wings are gone," Ohryuu growled at Muraki. "Where are they?"

"Never fear." Muraki's self-satisfied smile said it all. "They're in safe-keeping, so to speak."

"Forget that!" Tsuzuki couldn't see Watari on the CCTV screen anymore - a sign he was already starting to disable the security system. "You should make yourself invisible," he told the panther. "And as for you," he jabbed Muraki in the chest, "if you don't wear your suit and trenchcoat, I'm going to activate an illusion fuda of you and use that instead!"

Muraki took hold of Tsuzuki's hand and guided it to his bare chest. "There is no need to panic. All we have to do is behave the way we normally do with each other."

Tsuzuki pulled his hand free. "Are you crazy? If he sees how we normally behave together, he'll probably film an amateur video and upload it to the JuOhCho computer network for laughs!"

"Really? He sounds like a man after my own heart."

"Muraki! You've got to be serious! Watari may act goofy on the outside, but he knows a lot more than he lets on!"

"I know. He's intimately acquainted with the great JuOhCho supercomputer, isn't he?" Muraki's sidelong look was sly and knowing. "Perhaps you should be asking him what use Enma has for hoarding human knowledge along with human souls."

A horrible suspicion dawned on Tsuzuki.

Kinu is said to be the eyes and ears for Akasha, the supercomputer of JuOhCho...but no one has ever seen him, or at least lasted long enough to tell the tale.

If Gyokuto chose to conceal himself in human guise, then what was stopping Kinu, the Gold Raven, from doing the same?

"If he's Kinu, this is worse than I thought! He's the one who expunged all mention of non-Fire demons from the database!" Tsuzuki turned to the panther. "As far as he's concerned, you're not supposed to exist!"

"How dare he!" Ohryuu lashed her tail. "The sacrilege!"

Muraki sighed. "Tsuzuki-san, please allow me to take care of this."

"No way! You'll either summon another demon or go on a killing spree!" Tsuzuki began pacing back and forth. "Arresting me for insubordination is one thing, but if he knows about you and Ohryuu..." He whirled around to face the panther. "Hide. Make yourself invisible."

Ohryuu exchanged glances with Muraki, who gave a small nod. Slowly she dematerialised into nothingness.

"Now it's your turn, Muraki." Tsuzuki looked around, only to find himself speaking to an empty room. "Muraki?"

Had he already vanished? It wasn't like Muraki to be so compliant.

Relieved, Tsuzuki took out one of his bloodstained fuda and placed it between his index and middle fingers. He sat down on the lounge and started chanting the spell - only for the fuda to be snatched out of his fingers.

Standing over him was Muraki, dressed in his white trenchcoat and suit, wearing his metal-framed glasses. He sniffed the paper charm, then wrinkled his nose. "One of mine, I see." He slid it in his pocket. "Why create a replica of me? Surely no fuda double can ever match the real thing."

Tsuzuki glared. "When it comes to being an insufferable jerk who refuses to listen to a word I say, I suppose not."

Muraki sat beside him and crossed his legs. "Someone has to let down the barrier around the apartment so he can come in, right?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

Tsuzuki couldn't help fuming at how calm and collected Muraki was. Perhaps it was because Muraki, unlike him, had nothing to hide. What was he going to do? What was he going to say? What excuses could he give to explain his shameless conduct?

"If you're going to stay, you mustn't show off your Metal powers. You've got to act as normal as possible, got it?"

"Understood." Muraki took a drag from his cigarette. "I'll do my best to act normal." His false eye began to glow.

Tsuzuki buried his face in his hands. "You're looking forward to this, aren't you?"

"Not at all." Muraki caressed the hair at the nape of his neck. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Don't do that. It's too distracting." But Tsuzuki didn't shake him off.

"You were incredibly distracting yourself earlier." Muraki's fingers were tracing slow circles against his nape. "You truly are voracious...I could barely keep up. For a moment, I thought I was losing myself..."

Tsuzuki lifted his head. "I felt the same way too. That's why I pulled away the first time. It scared me..."

Muraki's gaze was oddly tender. "Why? The moon must take its fill in order to grow full."

Tsuzuki went still. "Who...who are you referring to?"

Muraki kissed him, a gentle meeting of lips. "All in good time, Tsuzuki-san. All in good time."

The flashing indicator lights of the lift caught Tsuzuki's attention. They didn't have much time left. Quickly he withdrew from Muraki's embrace. "So what's supposed to happen when Kinu meets Gyokuto?"

"Well..." Muraki reclined back in his seat and took another drag from the cigarette. "I suppose the sky will go dark and rivers will dry up. Then crops will fail and pestilence plague the living, until finally civilization as we know it crumbles - the typical chaos and destruction foretold by seers each time the sun and moon meet in an eclipse."

Muraki's breezy tone did nothing to allay Tsuzuki's unease. "Chaos and destruction, huh? That's right up your alley."

"Really, Tsuzuki-san?" Through the haze of cigarette smoke, Muraki's sidelong glance held mocking amusement. "I thought it was more up yours."

Tsuzuki decided to get up and wait in front of the lift doors. He was on edge already - the last thing he needed was to be goaded by Muraki's taunts. But doubts were creeping into his mind. Surely Muraki had to be Gyokuto. Why else would he revere the moon? Why else was he so driven to seek eternal life to the exclusion of all else?

But perhaps it was he who had inadvertently anointed Muraki to be Gyokuto. With a stab of a knife, Muraki's whole life had been turned upside down.

I will give you a name! You will be Gyokuto-sama!

The hum of the lift doors sliding open brought Tsuzuki back to reality.

Watari stood there, dressed in his white lab coat, a big cheery grin on his face as usual. "Hey, Tsuzuki! You know what?" He began walking towards him. "I think I've figured out the meaning of the-" He suddenly slammed his face against an invisible barrier positioned at the lift entrance, and promptly fell back inside the lift. The lift doors slid shut, and the lift started going down.

"What the...Muraki!"

"Didn't I tell you I'd take care of everything?" Still sitting on the lounge, Muraki placed his cigarette on the ashtray. "You seemed so agitated about seeing him I thought it best he come back at a more appropriate time."

"No! You were right about what you said earlier. There's no point in hiding. I might as well face him here and now without resorting to fuda doubles or any other supernatural tricks. Bring him back up."

"That's more like it," Muraki murmured approvingly. He walked over to the lift doors and gave a careless wave of his hand. The lift rose once more and the doors opened again.

Watari winced as he rubbed the back of his head. "Silly me. I should've known there would be some kind of barrier spell in place." Cautiously he extended a hand towards the entrance.

"Forgive me," Muraki replied dryly. "I had no idea I was expecting an unwanted intruder."

Finding the barrier gone, Watari bounded in. "Hey! Long time no see, Doctor Muraki!" He eyed Muraki up and down with unabashed curiosity. "Well, well! You look in remarkable shape for a man with multiple mineral deficiency!"

Muraki was also assessing Watari, albeit in a much more measured way. "I hope you don't mind me asking how you found this place."

"Oh, it took me a while. I hacked into the various government and banking databases in the local area, but I couldn't find any recent records of you. I had to look back several years before I stumbled across an old deed to this apartment in your name." Watari strode to the windows and pressed his face against the glass. "Wow! What a cool place you have here!"

"Did Chief Konoe send you?" Tsuzuki asked.

"Well, he didn't have much choice but to send me and Tatsumi down here, did he?" Watari bounced on the lounge, making himself at home. "The boy turned up in his office with this outlandish story about you sprouting wings. He's convinced you've been possessed by Saagatanus again!"

Tsuzuki remained standing. "Don't you believe him?" Out of the corner of his eye, Tsuzuki noticed Muraki drift to the far wall by the curtains. He was watching Watari like a hawk.

"Why should I? I know the truth about Saaga, remember? The high-security channels of the JuOhCho information network were abuzz with rumours of his annihilation." Watari leaned forward. "You never fully explained how you did it, you know." He glanced Muraki's way. "Perhaps you got a helping hand, huh?"

Apart from a raised brow, Muraki chose not to respond.

"Did you tell the others?" Tsuzuki asked.

"Nah, why should I? It's classified information, anyway - well above the clearance level of the average Shinigami."

"I see." Tsuzuki darted a look Muraki's way. "Obviously you don't fall in that category."

Strangely enough, Muraki's reticence was making him more nervous than Watari's presence. It wasn't like Muraki to be silent - when he was, it was usually a sign of trouble brewing.

"I would certainly hope not!" Watari chuckled. "Anyway, you don't have to worry about either of them. The boy and Tatsumi are visiting the girl in hospital."

"That's good." Tsuzuki seated himself on the edge of the adjacent armchair. "So why exactly are you here?"

"Hey, no need to be so suspicious! I just wanted to see what you've both been up to." Watari craned his neck towards the bedroom doorway. "I was hoping to surprise the two of you, but I guess-"

"Out with it, Watari! What are you doing here?"

"All right, all right! Remember you asked me to decipher that anagram?"

"What anagram?"

"3, 22, LUX - that anagram you saw in your dream!" Watari placed a leather-bound Bible embossed with a gold cross on the coffee table. "Well, I think the answer's in here! I'm sure of it!"

Before Tsuzuki could pick it up, a sudden gust of air swept the Bible off the table. It flew across the room and into Muraki's hands with a firm thud. He flicked through it, his good eye narrowed. "Nothing more than an antiquated Western religious text from a bygone era." He shut the book with a decisive snap. "This is of no use to you, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki was too dumbfounded to reply. Muraki's ease in manipulating the Bible took him by complete surprise. The only metal in the book was the gold embossed cross - surely not enough elemental Metal present for Muraki to manipulate.

"Oh well," Watari shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "You can keep that copy if you like." He pulled out a pencil and a notepad. "There's plenty more where that came from."

Another gust of air blew the pencil and notepad out of Watari's hands. Still standing by the far wall, Muraki caught them easily as well.

No, this wasn't simply Metal at work. This was Wind manipulation – yet another sign of Muraki's growing power.

"Tsuzuki-san, I assure you that there is nothing to be gained in looking through this book. It has no relevance to you and your true nature."

"But...but that anagram is something I saw in my dream - the same dream that led me to seek you out here in Nagasaki. At the time, I thought it was another clue to help me understand what was going on-"

"Forget it. It's of no consequence." Muraki's dismissive tone left no room for compromise.

Tsuzuki was puzzled and angered by it. After six days of taunting him for turning his back on his past and playing the ignorant fool, why was Muraki now refusing to let him see a simple book? The anagram that marked his body in that dream may have slipped his mind, but it was still an important clue - no matter what Muraki said.

Besides, wasn't Muraki the one who placed the dream in his mind to begin with? Why was he suddenly unwilling to reveal its true significance?

"How can you be so sure it's of no consequence? After all, it appeared in Tsuzuki's dream, not yours." Watari wasn't bothered at all by Muraki's brusque manner - if anything, he seemed amused, even smug. "Why don't you let Tsuzuki skim the Bible and judge for himself? Or are you afraid of what he might find out?"

---

Note:

1. The name of the JuOhCho supercomputer throughout this story has been changed from Mother to Akasha to maintain consistency with the Volume 12 tankoubon. The word Akasha is Sanskrit for aether.

---

Muraki's gaze narrowed. The pencil snapped in his fingers. In his other hand he held the Bible in a white-knuckled grip.

Tsuzuki's anxious gaze darted from Muraki to Watari. What did Muraki have to hide? And why was Watari exuding such an air of smug superiority about it? "If you know what it means, Watari, just tell me."

"And spoil the surprise?" Watari's brown eyes sparkled with mirth. "No way! It's much more fun if you look it up for yourself." He sat on the sofa, waiting for the fireworks to start.

Fun for whom? Watari was obviously toying with them for his own amusement. Whose side was he really on?

Sensing Tsuzuki's doubt, Muraki approached him. "The engineer possesses a unique gift, doesn't he? I doubt there is anyone else within Meifu who has the ability to make inanimate drawings come to life. Have you ever wondered who granted him such a gift - and what kind of spiritual energy is behind it?" He held out the broken pieces of the pencil in the palm of his hand.

The two fragments were alive, squirming and writhing like twin worms. As Tsuzuki watched, the broken ends found each other, fused together, and straightened to form an intact pencil once more.

"Wood energy - the energy of life. I should've known." He turned to Watari. "Did EnmaDaiOh give this to you?"

"Enma gives, and Enma can just as easily take away." Watari's easy humour was gone, replaced by grave seriousness. "We Shinigami owe everything we are to EnmaDaiOh. Even you."

"Indeed." Muraki sneered. He eyed Watari with open contempt. "So you take pride in your position as Enma's prized pet? Are you content to harvest human souls at his bidding and betray your own kind?"

"So what if I am?" Watari retorted. "You of all people are in no position to judge me. How many times have you sought to increase your power by draining the spiritual energy of your human victims?" He combed an errant lock of blond hair behind his ear. "All I've done is throw my lot in with a master of the craft."

"Then you know," Tsuzuki murmured. "You know where this Wood energy comes from. You know what use Enma has for human souls." The vestige of hope he harboured was blown away. "Who else in the Shoukanka knows?"

Watari ran an idle hand through his wavy long hair. "None of them have a clue except Chief Konoe. The old man's been around long enough to have some idea." His movements dislodged something at the unbuttoned collar of his shirt - a black leather cord around the base of his throat. Hanging from it was a single feather of pure gold.

"Well, well." Muraki exhaled sharply. "So you show your true colours at last."

Tsuzuki stared. "What is that?"

"My protective amulet." Watari held it out for inspection. "Do you like it?"

"It's also an identification tag," Muraki explained. "The sight of it will send any demon into terrified retreat." He placed a restraining hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "After all, who would dare harm Enma's appointed gold raven?"

So this was Kinu - the mythical bird who embodied the power of the sun, the eyes and ears of JuOhCho's supercomputer.

"I've chosen my destiny of my own free will." Watari's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "Unlike you."

Muraki's nails dug into Tsuzuki's shoulder. "At least my mind remains my own, which is more than could be said of yours."

Tsuzuki's bewildered glance darted from one man to the other. "What do you mean?" he asked Muraki. "Are you saying Watari...isn't really Watari?" He looked at Watari closely. He didn't appear any different - yet there was a chilly aloofness in his gaze, and the smile that curved his lips now seemed more mocking than cheerful.

Muraki led Tsuzuki back to the armchair. "You can ask him yourself - but you can see the difference already. Like you, the engineer is a man of many faces."

Tsuzuki sat down. This news was not entirely surprising. He had suspected it for a while. "Are you Kinu?" he asked Watari.

Watari shrugged. "It's not really my place to say. It would be presumptuous of me to claim such a grand title for myself."

"Spare us the false modesty." Seated on the arm of Tsuzuki's chair, Muraki lounged over the backrest like a leopard guarding its prize. "We know what you are. Your amulet proves it. You've been appointed by Enma to be his pet songbird - his candidate for the position of Gold Raven. But you have no Sun energy of your own. Without your charmed feather, no demon would give you a second glance."

"Then it's lucky for me that demons aren't to my taste," Watari quipped.

"Gushoshin Elder told me a little about Kinu," Tsuzuki said. "He said no one had ever seen his face, and he was supposed to be all-knowing and wise, and as brilliant as the sun." Tsuzuki leaned forward, searching for signs of those qualities in Watari's features.

Watari sat up, hand placed under his chin in a classic thinker's pose. "Do I pass muster?"

Muraki scowled at being upstaged. He placed a hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder, and stroked his thumb along the nape of Tsuzuki's neck.

"Err..." Tsuzuki stiffened against the caress. "Well...if that's true..." He shook off Muraki's hand and let out a nervous laugh. "If that's true, then there's no way you're Kinu!"

"No way?" Watari was visibly deflated by the news.

"I mean, look at yourself! You're more like a mad scientist than a wise man!" He turned to Muraki. "One time he even tried to formulate a sex-change potion and-"

Muraki raised a brow. "A what?"

"A sex-change potion, and it was a complete flop! When he and I drank it, we were transformed into kids! Now if Watari really was Kinu, wouldn't he have figured out how to make a proper sex-change potion?"

"I suppose." Muraki eyed Tsuzuki curiously. "But why on earth did you drink it in the first place?"

"Because he asked me to. He needed a subject to test it."

"Did you want to undergo a sex change?"

"Oh no! Definitely not! Not permanently, anyway." Tsuzuki flushed. "Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to..."

"To what?"

"Well...to have...you know." Tsuzuki cupped the empty space in front of his chest with both hands to demonstrate.

"No, never." Muraki stared down at Tsuzuki's groping hands, then back up to Tsuzuki's sheepish face. "Your tastes are evidently far more kinky than mine."

"No way! You're the kinky one! What kind of person hires prostitutes as after-dinner entertainment, anyway?"

Muraki indicated a wide-eyed Watari with an incline of his head. "Tsuzuki-san, please. Not in front of our guest."

"Prostitutes? What were you both doing with prostitutes?" Watari demanded. "Were you having an orgy? What did you do? Did you take any pic-"

"Nothing happened!" Tsuzuki shouted. "We did nothing with them! I kicked them out before anything could happen!"

"It appears Tsuzuki-san prefers to grope his own breasts than fondle someone else's," Muraki remarked.

"Enough! Drop the subject!" Flustered, Tsuzuki turned to Watari. "Why are you going along with EnmaDaiOh's scheme against humanity? Why are you turning your back on the human race?"

"I'm not turning my back on anything. If anything, I'm recycling a valuable resource." Watari tossed his head, blond hair cascading over his shoulder. "A human, once dead, has no further use for their soul. Either it just floats away into the ether or it ends up bound to the material world as a ghost driven by a grudge of some kind. By gathering them together, EnmaDaiOh is giving them something all humans have sought - a meaning to life. Or in this case, the afterlife."

Tsuzuki recognized the sentiment all too well. It was why he first joined the Shoukanka as a Shinigami. He had always longed to find a purpose to his own wretched existence. "So is that why you've aligned yourself with EnmaDaiOh? Do you find meaning in watching him drain human souls to generate Wood energy?"

Watari shook his head, chuckling. "I've got no use for any energy, Wood or otherwise. Spiritual energy doesn't interest me." He flashed a disdainful look Muraki's way. "I'm no vampiric parasite."

Muraki came to his feet in one lithe movement. "How virtuous you sound," he sneered. "But would you still serve Enma with such loyalty without unlimited access to the vast JuOhCho supercomputer network? Are you so sure you can survive being offline, free from its addictive hold on your consciousness?"

Watari lifted his chin. "As administrator, I organise the database and keep the network running smoothly."

"Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week? Why must you do all the work yourself? Surely you could come up with suitable software to perform such menial tasks in your place?" Muraki took a step toward him. "Unless you can't go offline because you can't live without the instant gratification of JuOhCho's encrypted network."

Watari didn't answer. He put a hand to his head as if he had a splitting headache.

"Instant gratification?" Tsuzuki asked, mystified. "What do you mean?"

"JuOhCho's network is overseen by a sole administrator who determines the privileges of the other users - a position of considerable responsibility." He turned back to Watari, false eye glowing. "So what is it like to have the total wealth of human knowledge at your fingertips? Do you get a thrill out of being sole gatekeeper? Do you relish the nuggets of wisdom gleaned from the dying as they drew their last breath? Do you revel in knowing the secrets of the dead, secrets they hoped to carry with them to the grave?"

"Arrgh!" Watari clutched his head. "It hurts..." He doubled over, blond hair falling over his face. "I can't take it any longer...make it stop!"

"Why should I? Isn't it time Tsuzuki-san knew the truth about you?" Standing over Watari, Muraki was clearly enjoying his discomfort. "So how does it feel to be responsible for such a vast resource? Does having that wealth of information all to yourself fill the gnawing sense of inadequacy you've carried with you all your life?"

"Please..." Watari was trembling uncontrollably. "Make it stop!"

Tsuzuki grabbed Muraki by the arm. "Enough, Muraki. You've said enough."

"Hardly. I was just getting started." Muraki's grey eyes remained cold and ruthless. "He is not the friendly colleague you once knew. That was merely a guise he wore for the purpose of passing himself off as a normal Shinigami. Isn't it time you saw him for what he really is?"

Watari crouched on the floor in a foetal position, knees bent to his chest, hands pulling at his hair. "The pain...is unbearable," he whimpered. "Make it stop!"

"I've seen enough. I don't want him to suffer like this." Tsuzuki shook Muraki by the arm. "I don't know what you're doing to him, but whatever it is-"

"Don't you?" Muraki's sinister smile sent shivers down Tsuzuki's spine. "Have you ever wondered how the engineer is constantly online to the supercomputer network, no matter how far he is from EnmaCho?"

Tsuzuki frowned. "I guess he must use a device of some kind...like a mobile phone...or a laptop with wireless modem..."

"Exactly. He uses a modem, but he has no need for a cumbersome external device. No, a professional of his calibre communicates directly with the network via an intracranial neural interface."

"Intracranial..." The truth dawned on Tsuzuki with horrible clarity. The modem - composed of computer chips and metal circuits - was lodged inside Watari's head. And Muraki was an expert in manipulating Metal...

He seized the lapels of Muraki's coat. "All right! You've made your point! Stop using your Metal power to torture him!"

"Very well." The light in Muraki's false eye winked out.

Watari's whimpering subsided, to be replaced by heavy gasping breaths. Tsuzuki knelt by his side.

"Save your pity." Muraki seated himself in the armchair vacated by Tsuzuki and crossed his legs. "He consented to undergo the surgery to insert the bionic modem implant. All I did was mimic what happens when the level of network traffic exceeds his brain's ability to process it."

Tsuzuki studied Watari's pale face and sweaty brow. "Is that true?"

Watari nodded. "It...it was the most convenient way...to maintain connectivity to Akasha." Using Tsuzuki as a support, he tried to stand up but collapsed in an ungainly heap.

"Akasha?" Tsuzuki repeated. It sounded like a woman's name. "Is that someone you know?"

"It's the name I gave the network," Watari explained. "Akasha is the Sanskrit word for 'aether.'"

"How appropriate," Muraki remarked. "Early physicists considered aether to be the fifth element that propagated electromagnetic and sound waves. So while Enma hoards human souls to distill Wood energy, you harness human memories to create your very own 'Aether.'"

Watari shrugged. "Waste not, want not."

"Why is human knowledge so important to EnmaDaiOh?" Tsuzuki asked. "Why has he created a database of human knowledge in the first place?"

"I'm not his confidante. I wouldn't pretend to comprehend the mind of DaiOh-sama." Watari wiped the sweat from his brow. "But I have a sneaking suspicion that on some level, the inhabitants of Meifu have always been intrigued by the ways of humans. They've been observing us for millenia, you know. I suppose they have a vested interest in our survival."

"Oh." Tsuzuki couldn't help feeling disappointed. He had hoped Watari would have more insights into EnmaDaiOh's plans for humanity. "Then what about you? You're not stupid - you're an educated man with a university degree! You could simply look up information in the library...or figure things out yourself using your intellect or performing experiments! You've got enough brains of your own!"

"Well," Watari flashed him a lopsided smile, "you do have a point. But there's one paradox I discovered during my many years of education: the more I learn, the less I know."

"Huh? That doesn't make sense."

"I've always had a burning curiosity to understand how things work. It's what fuelled my interest in science. But I found that the more I studied, the more difficult it became to keep track of what I had already learned a few weeks, months, years ago. I had to constantly revise just to keep on top of things. I became a hamster on the treadmill of knowledge - constantly running just to stay still. Eventually I came to the conclusion that the real problem was the limited capacity of the human mind." Watari looked up at Muraki. "Isn't that so, Doctor?"

Muraki didn't answer. His hostile gaze zeroed in on the sight of Tsuzuki's arm around Watari's shoulder as he helped Watari to the sofa and sat beside him.

"But having a modem implanted in your head is going too far, Watari! I mean, how do you know it's safe? It might be damaging your health without you realising it!"

"Oh, the bionic modem's perfectly safe," Watari assured him. "I've had it for years, you know. It gives me unlimited access to Akasha's vast database. Can you imagine how exhilarating it feels? Every fact and figure known to humanity is virtually at my fingertips - ready to be retrieved at a moment's notice!"

Tsuzuki couldn't see the value in being a human encyclopaedia, let alone imagine how it would feel. But it seemed churlish to say so in the face of Watari's enthusiasm.

Muraki took out a cigarette. "I assume such a rare privilege comes at a commensurate price."

"Of course. I had to sacrifice some cerebral function in return. It was a small price to pay."

Tsuzuki blinked. "You...you sacrificed some of your cerebral function?"

"Nothing that important - just the long-term memories of my old life. It's not like I'll need them anymore."

"What?" Tsuzuki spluttered. "Are...are you crazy?"

Watari frowned. "No. The link shouldn't affect my sanity, if that's what you're worried about."

"But...but to give up the memories of your past - your life in the land of the living! What person in their right mind would agree to that?"

"Why not? I don't need that old baggage any longer. Now I rely on Akasha. She provides me with an infinitely vast and much more reliable memory bank!"

"Fascinating," Muraki murmured. He lit his cigarette and took a long drag. "From what you've described, your bionic modem must have compromised your episodic memory. I'm guessing it's lodged somewhere in the fronto-temporal lobe of your brain."

"That's right! Some of the neocortex had to be resected so it could fit inside my skull. But don't worry - my cognitive abilities remain perfectly intact."

Tsuzuki was too appalled to speak.

"Really?" Muraki drawled. To Tsuzuki, he explained in a low voice, "Impaired judgement and an inability to feel remorse or regret for one's decisions are typical signs of frontal lobe damage."

Tsuzuki felt sick to the stomach. Painful memories of his own experience as a human guinea pig came flooding back - the helplessness, the isolation...and the soul-crushing knowledge that no one cared if he lived or died. "When exactly did you get this...this implant?"

"After I passed the preliminary assessment to be an employee in EnmaCho. My extremely high aptitude scores made me an ideal candidate to be Chief Engineer to Akasha. A person of lesser intellect would go insane from the information overload."

Tsuzuki frowned. "So you were already in Meifu, but you weren't officially appointed as a Shinigami at the time?"

"Nah, not officially. I had the modem inserted before."

"A Shinigami's recuperative power would present a major impediment to surgery," Muraki pointed out.

"Exactly." Watari combed a stray lock of blond hair from his forehead. "My body would've rejected the implant if I was a Shinigami."

On close inspection, Tsuzuki could just make out the ugly thickened scar tissue beneath Watari's long hair. It curled out to the hairline of his right temple, then back behind his ear. It was a sign that Watari would never regain complete function after the operation. The incision wound may be healed, but the internal damage would be permanent and irreversible.

The sight of it filled him a seething, impotent fury that propelled him to his feet.

"Is that all the brain is to you - the seat of the intellect and a memory bank of facts? What about emotions, memories, consciousness and will? What about personality and character, hopes and dreams, fears and foibles - all those traits that make you the person you are? Aren't they just as important?"

Watari blinked, bemused. "Well, I guess, but-"

"But nothing! By vandalising your brain, you're in danger of altering yourself! You risk changing something fundamental in your very nature - something that helps to make you who you are! Do you think so little of yourself that you'd sacrifice your nature...to be what? A mobile extension of a computer network?"

Muraki listened on in pensive silence, the cigarette held between his lips. Smoke wafted from his flared nostrils - the only obvious sign of movement.

"Not any computer network," Watari reminded him. "Akasha is the queen of computer networks. I can access her infinitely large memory banks when I've forgotten some chemical formula, mathematical equation...or even when I've misplaced my glasses. I don't have to depend on my own forgetful memory as long as I have a higher power to guide me. She is the one who makes me all-knowing and wise." His face lit up in a beatific smile. "So you see, Tsuzuki - the sacrifice I had to make was minimal in comparison. There are many others who would willingly sacrifice a lot more than their fronto-temporal lobe to link up to the mind of God."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this." Tsuzuki shook his head and paced the room. "Listen to yourself, Watari. What sane person would think a glorified network database is equivalent to...to God? Face it, this modem has ruined your judgement and is probably eroding what's left of your sanity!"

"I agree," Muraki agreed as he tapped ash from his cigarette. "He sounds as if he's suffering from grandiose delusions."

Tsuzuki turned on him in frustration. "Don't just sit there! You're the surgeon! If you know where the implant is, you can remove it!"

"Flattered as I am by your faith in my abilities, I'm no neurosurgeon. Besides, the engineer now has a Shinigami's recuperative power so I doubt I could make a difference in any case." He held up Watari's pencil. "But I'm not the only one here with the healing touch, am I?"

Tsuzuki took it. The pencil came to life, stretching and twisting between his fingers. Branches and small leaves sprouted along its length.

Watari's jaw dropped. He was transfixed by the sight.

"Wood's regenerative power is the energy of life itself. It can heal all living things. As Guardian of Wood, you alone have the power to restore and make him whole." Noticing Watari's awestruck expression, Muraki said, "Why are you so surprised? Despite what you may have been told, Enma doesn't have a monopoly on Wood."

Tsuzuki gazed down at the pencil-branch twining itself lovingly around his fingers. "You've never seen EnmaDaiOh do this?"

"No, never. He rarely reveals himself, let alone his power."

"No doubt he prefers to conceal the true extent of his power in shadows," Muraki retorted. "I would expect nothing less of the Kagetsu master."

How odd. Was EnmaDaiOh only interested in Kagetsu power - the Yin manifestation of Wood? What about Wood energy itself? Maybe the ruler of Meifu, a being who had never known the physical limitations of a mortal, saw no use for healing and regeneration.

"Shadows don't interest me." Tsuzuki caressed the newly-formed branch, soothing and calming it to a twitching, trembling quiescence. "I've hidden myself for too long."

"Yes, you have," Muraki agreed. "But now you have awakened. The time has come for you to use your power. We have been deprived of Wood's regenerative energy for too long." He came to his feet and stood beside Tsuzuki. "You've seen it work on objects of plant origin. Imagine what it can do for other creatures - living and non-living alike." He glanced meaningfully across at Watari.

Was it possible? Could he really use his Wood energy to extract the implant and make Watari whole again?

"What are you both staring at?"

"Watari..." Tsuzuki tried to choose his words with care. "Do you have any regrets about having the bionic modem?"

"What regrets? Having the modem implanted in my brain has made me a better person! It's enhanced my intelligence, increased my long-term memory-"

"And ruined your decision-making and judgement," Muraki retorted.

"Rubbish! I wanted to have the procedure. I don't even notice it's there anymore-"

"Really?" Muraki's voice was mocking. "Not even the headaches?"

"I know how to handle them. They don't last long," Watari said defensively. "Akasha gets over-excited sometimes. But I assure you, the benefits far outweigh the occasional inconvenience. I have no regrets."

"Then why hide the surgical scar?" Tsuzuki asked. "You grow your hair long to cover it up. If you've got no regrets, why hide it from everyone in the Shoukanka?"

Watari lowered his gaze. "I know they wouldn't understand. They'd accuse me of selling my body and soul to Akasha." He shrugged. "I've been subjected to this kind of prejudice before. Others view me as a traitor against my own kind...and perhaps I am."

Tsuzuki approached him. "I have some idea what it's like to be ostracised for being different - the loneliness, the shame. But I can use my power to help you."

Watari froze. "How?"

"I'll try to rid you of the implant. I'll use my power to repair the damage it's done to your brain."

"You mean...you want to use your Wood energy on me?" Watari stared disbelievingly at Tsuzuki. "But why?"

"Why not?" Tsuzuki replied simply.

"Because I..." Watari's eyes glistened with unshed tears. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed them away. "I don't deserve it."

"Don't be so silly." Tsuzuki's smile was gentle and warm. He held out his hands, palms outstretched in welcome.

Watari stared at Tsuzuki's hands. His expression was part fear, part terrified hope.

Standing back behind Tsuzuki, Muraki watched and waited like a hawk. His face was an unreadable mask.

"You've got nothing to fear," Tsuzuki reassured him. "I'm not here to judge you."

Watari shook himself, as if rousing from a trance. "I know." He put his glasses back on. "I've been judged already. I can't accept your offer."

"Don't you want to regain the function you've lost?" Tsuzuki reached out towards him.

"No!" Watari shrank away. "I don't want to lose my link to Akasha! Without it I'm nothing!"

"What are you talking about? That link has damaged your brain! All I want to do is restore your memories and make you whole again!"

"No, no!" Watari scrambled out of the sofa. "I don't want to be healed! I don't want to remember!" There was a hysterical note in his voice. "Please, whatever you do, don't make me remember!"

"All right, Watari. It's all right." Tsuzuki lowered his hands. "What don't you want to remember?"

"I...I don't know. I...can't remember." A hysterical chuckle escaped Watari's lips. "All I know is I never want my memories back."

"How ironic." Muraki let out a derisive snort. "He prides himself on his electronically enhanced memory database even as he blinds himself to the truth about his own life."

"It makes no sense, Watari. How can you be scared of something you can't remember?"

Watari rubbed his forehead, automatically touching his healed scar. "I don't know. All I know is the idea of regaining my memories terrifies me."

"Your hypocrisy is mind-boggling," Muraki murmured. "You trawl through the memories of others courtesy of Enma, yet you prefer to remain in ignorant darkness about your own."

"I...I must've had a good reason for agreeing to extract my memories in the first place! Nothing good can come out of having them back - I'm sure of it."

"Look at him," Muraki told Tsuzuki. "Pitiful, isn't he? His fear of the unknown is rooted in ignorance. See how it has transformed him into a man who is afraid of himself? It's all the more reason for you to heal him and restore his mind. Once his memories have been brought to light, his fear will be no more. Knowledge is power - even the engineer cannot argue with that."

"No!" Watari shook his head wildly. "This fear...it's a defence mechanism - a way for me to maintain my sanity. It's my mind's way of telling me that I'm better off not knowing about my former life."

Tsuzuki was torn. He wanted to use his power to heal Watari - but how could he when Watari was so opposed to the idea?

"You understand, don't you?" Watari turned to Tsuzuki, brown eyes wide in appeal. "Haven't you ever been so consumed with shame and remorse over a deed you wish you could undo?"

Tsuzuki nodded. He certainly had - many more times than he cared to remember.

"You see? Our lives are filled with actions we regret - but it's impossible for us mere mortals to go back in time to set things right. We have to live with our mistakes, our blunders...and our failures. But some of us are lucky." Bitter cynicism edged his voice. "Some have the power to impose a selective amnesia over their minds and wipe the slate clean, effectively absolving themselves of all responsibility for the past."

Tsuzuki flinched at the resentment in Watari's eyes. "I...I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. Although your powers have awakened, you have walled off the memories of your past. It was the only way you could retain your sanity against the crimes of your past."

Tsuzuki was stunned at the turnaround in their conversation. "How...do you know all this?"

"How else?" Watari pointed to his right temple with a wry smile. "The memories of all deceased humans are meticulously archived by Akasha - including the memories of your dear mother."

Tsuzuki froze. "Watari, you wouldn't dare-"

"She witnessed you summoning the four elemental shikigami for the first time when you were eighteen."

"No..." Tsuzuki's voice was little more than a horrified whisper. "I don't believe you."

Muraki's sharp-eyed gaze narrowed to dangerous slits. He crushed his half-smoked cigarette in the nearby ashtray.

"As she lay dying, bleeding to death from her wounds, she saw them raze the village to the ground in your name, while the screams of the dying echoed around her and the stench of burning flesh filled the air."

"No!" Tsuzuki covered his ears. He didn't want to remember the events of that terrible day. "Don't say anymore!"

But it was too late. The memories were flooding back. In his mind's eye, he was kneeling on the bare ground, gasping for breath. The angry mob had already hunted down his mother and sister. And they were now closing on him with their barking dogs and burning torches.

The superstitious villagers, fuelled by envy and prejudice, had taken everything from him. His family. His home. The gardens his family had lovingly tended were now on fire.

Everything he loved - all gone.

"The lynch mob showed her no mercy," Watari continued. "They struck her with stones. They bludgeoned her with picks and shovels. They stomped and kicked her where she lay on the ground-"

"Enough! No more!" Tsuzuki's voice was barely audible above his muffled sobs. "I don't have to listen to this!"

"They did the same to your sister, but at least for her the end was quick. One vicious blow to the head was enough to crack her skull open."

Tears rolled down Tsuzuki's cheeks. He abandoned them in their hour of need. He was responsible for their deaths. He was evil, cowardly, a creature worthy of nothing but scorn. He was a harbinger of doom who brought death and misfortune to all he met. His very existence was an abomination. Was it any wonder that the villagers wanted him dead?

Monster! Monster!

Their chants echoed in his head. They had been right all along. He was a monster. The only one of his kind in the whole world. There was no one else feared and despised as much as him - was there?

"Okaasan...Ruka...forgive me. It should've been me. If I could turn back time...I would give up my life instead!"

"Your poor mother's death was excruciating in comparison," Watari continued. "She suffered multiple fractures, internal bleeding-" His words were abruptly cut off by a squeal, followed by a series of choking gasps.

Tsuzuki looked up.

Muraki held Watari aloft by the throat, so high that his feet scrabbled in the air. "Be quiet." His low voice held an edge of steely menace. "You have sung more than enough." He tossed Watari aside onto the sofa. "Be thankful I didn't short-circuit your bionic modem and terminate your precious link."

Watari clutched his throat as he gasped for breath. "Isn't this...what you wanted: to awaken...the real Tsuzuki? I thought...I was giving you...a helping hand."

"I don't need your help," Muraki growled. Abruptly he turned on Tsuzuki, false eye glowing. "Do you mean it? Would you prefer to die?"

Tsuzuki blinked away his tears. There was no compassion or sympathy from Muraki - nothing but callous disdain.

"In that case, all you had to do was ask." He lowered his head towards the side of Tsuzuki's neck, his gaze hooded. "As I told you before, I am yours to command." He bared his teeth in a vicious snarl.

"What are you-"

It was too late. Muraki's teeth sank into the juncture of shoulder and neck, through muscle and tendon to major nerves and vessels. This was nothing like the playful nibbles Muraki had inflicted on him during foreplay. This was brutal and savage - the act of a predator latching onto its prey in a lethal grip.

The pain was excruciating. Stunned out of his reverie, Tsuzuki pulled at Muraki's head.

"Let me go! You're hurting me!"

Muraki didn't listen. If anything, his teeth seemed to sink deeper into Tsuzuki's flesh.

Tsuzuki couldn't breathe. The survival instinct overrode all else. "Let me go, Muraki!" He writhed and squirmed, his nails clawing Muraki's scalp and face. An agonizing jolt of pain sizzled down his arm, across his back - threatening to tear his body apart. "I...I don't want to die! Let me go! I don't want to die!"

Two bony appendages erupted from his back. Piercing the fabric of his clothes, they swung up and out, flapping wildly. Black feathers began to sprout along their entire length.

Muraki wrenched himself free, gasping for breath. Blood was smeared across his lips, and more blood dripped from the corners of his mouth, down his jaw. Disordered silver hair fell over his glittering gaze. He was inhuman, treacherous, bloodthirsty - a creature terrifying enough to strike fear in the hearts of men and women.

Tsuzuki retreated, eyes wide, clutching the healing wound at his neck, his wings fluttering nervously behind him. He was a fool to think he could tame Muraki. This man he had let into his heart was a monster - a monster hated by society, who would be shunned and ostracised for failing to conform to society's moral standards.

A monster starved of love and affection. A monster who learned to hide his true nature to find the acceptance he craved.

A monster just like himself.

The predatory gleam in Muraki's gaze went out, leaving behind an emptiness that cut Tsuzuki to the quick. "As you wish." His words were little more than a husky growl as he turned away to wipe his mouth with a handkerchief.

"Wow!" Watari lounged on the sofa, still flat on his back. "No wonder the boy thought Saaga had taken possession of you. I had no idea the black wings were yours all along."

Tsuzuki tucked his wings neatly behind his back. "I wanted him to think that. It seemed easier than explaining the truth."

Muraki managed a derisive snort. "Then he's a fool, and so are the rest of you Shinigami for failing to notice the difference. The demon dog's bat wings pale in comparison to the glossy magnificence of Tsuzuki-san's."

Perhaps Muraki only wanted him for his unsealed power. Perhaps Muraki would never love him for himself. At least Muraki did not fear his dark side - the aspect of his nature he was too ashamed to show the world. Muraki's devotion to him may be rooted in self-interest - but it was devotion all the same. How could he not be unmoved by it?

In the end, it didn't matter if Muraki loved him or not. Muraki needed him, depended upon him. Perhaps it wasn't love, but for Tsuzuki it was close enough.

Tsuzuki extended one wing to bridge the space between them, and allowed the black feathers to drape over Muraki's shoulders. "I don't want to die anymore. I was so caught up in self-pity I thought only of myself. I was being selfish."

"Yes, you were." Muraki wrapped the wingtip around him, pulling Tsuzuki towards him. "You are no use to me dead."

His kiss was brutal and demanding - a punishment of sorts. Tsuzuki's initial uncertainty melted under the onslaught. The lingering sweetness of his own blood in Muraki's mouth made him hungry for more. He pressed himself full-length against Muraki's lean body and grasped Muraki's head to urge him closer.

It was Muraki who withdrew first. He turned to Watari, who was avidly watching them from the sofa. "Leave us. If you don't want to be the beneficiary of Tsuzuki-san's regenerative powers, we have no further use for you."

"Fine then." Watari reluctantly came to his feet. "But don't you think Tsuzuki should know the truth about his father?"

Muraki stiffened. The hand he pressed against Tsuzuki's waist clenched into a fist. Tsuzuki could feel the tension emanating from his body.

"My father is dead." He looked from Muraki's clenched jaw to Watari's knowing smile. "He...he died before I was born."

"Your stepfather, you mean. But what about your true father - your biological father? Haven't you ever wondered about his identity?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tsuzuki tried to ease his way out of Muraki's arms without success. "I've only got one father, but I've never known him. He died before I was born."

"Are you sure?" Watari asked. "Are you sure you've never, ever met him?"

Tsuzuki shook his head. But even as he did so, an image flashed into his mind, vivid and clear - a small boy wobbling as he peered up at him in wonder.

Purple! You have purple eyes like me!

"No..." Tsuzuki shook his head again. "That was just a dream. How can it be a memory if I'm seeing myself..." He turned to Muraki, confused. "It was your doing, wasn't it? You planted that dream in my mind."

Muraki glared across at Watari. "Get out before I throw you out."

A sudden gust of wind swirled around Watari's ankles and steadily moved up his body, making his clothes flap around him. "I see my time is almost up," he remarked cheerfully.

Tsuzuki tugged at the lapel of Muraki's jacket. "Stop it, Muraki. I want to hear him out."

"Never mind," Watari said. The whirlwind enveloped him completely, dislodging his glasses and making his long hair fly about in wild disorder. But he simply chuckled as he wrapped his lab coat around himself with a flourish. "There is a Gospel in the Bible named Luke, which is derived from 'lux,' the Latin word for light."

"Luke," Tsuzuki repeated. "Is the anagram in my dream a reference to the Bible?"

Watari nodded. The whirlwind was whipping around him with a ferocity that made it difficult for him to speak aloud, yet it left the rest of the room untouched. "Use the numbers to find...chapter and verse. You'll find it...most enlightening." He smiled as he dematerialised before them.

"Watari!" Tsuzuki broke out of Muraki's arms. He went to the spot where Watari had stood. The air was still - the whirlwind was gone as well. "What have you done to him?" he demanded of Muraki.

"Nothing. He finally took flight of his own accord. I merely helped him on his way." Muraki shrugged off his trenchcoat and threw it on the sofa. "As you can see, the engineer is Enma's candidate for the title of Gold Raven. But he possesses no true Sun energy within him. He is just a pretender - the latest in a long line."

"What happened to the others?"

"The same thing that happens to any creature who dares to fly too close to the sun - they tumble back to earth, their wings singed beyond repair." Muraki loosened his tie, his hungry gaze fixed firmly on Tsuzuki.

Tsuzuki returned his gaze. He was determined not to be distracted by Muraki's sex appeal this time. "Where's that Bible? I need to look up something."

"No, you don't." Muraki tossed the tie aside and began working at the buttons of his shirt.

"Yes, I do. If that anagram is a Biblical quote, then I need to know what it means." He searched the armchair, then the sofa. If Lux referred to Luke, then 3 and 22 could certainly be chapter and verse numbers. "Where did you put it?"

Muraki grasped a black wingtip to halt Tsuzuki's progress. "Come here."

Tsuzuki flapped his wing free. "Then tell me what the anagram means: LUX, 3, 22."

"It means nothing of importance." Muraki stepped towards Tsuzuki and nuzzled his ear.

"But I saw it in my dream - a dream you planted in my mind! How can you say it's not important if you're the one who put it there?"

Muraki hesitated mid-nuzzle.

"Unless...it wasn't you?" Tsuzuki pulled away so he could see Muraki's face. "But...you know about my dreams. You must, because I've seen you in some of them. That's why I came after you to begin with. I thought the dreams were some kind of telepathic message from you - a clue that would lead me to you. Which it did."

Muraki avoided his gaze. "I am no dream caster. Victims of my curses may see me in dreams, but that is merely a byproduct of the curse. How on earth could someone with my miniscule power place a curse on the Guardian of Wood?" Muraki stared into the distance, his expression remote. "As the seal gradually lifts from your mind, it's inevitable that you will regain the memories of your past."

"But they aren't memories - not all of them, anyway! In one of the dreams, I saw my mother as a young woman, mourning the death of her husband! And in another, I saw her viewing the full moon with me and my sister when we were young children! So they can't be my memories of her! If anything, these memories belong to someone else...someone who knew her before I was born." Tsuzuki's voice fell away to a hushed whisper as the realisation hit home. "No, it can't be..."

Muraki closed his eyes. He looked like a condemned man awaiting his sentence.

"But my father is dead! He's been dead for years! I've never seen him or heard from him all my life! He's never been there for me, ever!" He shook Muraki by the shoulders. "Watari is lying about my father, isn't he? Isn't he?"

Muraki did not speak. He opened his eyes - both false and true - to reveal glowing red slits.