06-Oct-2004
Title: Degrees of Separation
Chapter: 12
Authors: bonnejeanne and Laekin
Series: Chaotic Alliance
Fandom: Yami no Matsuei
Archived at: Currently at Love and Gundams and will also be at Katcom: http://katcom.squidkitty.org/
Pairings: Muraki x Watari, Tatsumi x Watari, Muraki x Oriya
Genre: Drama, Dark Angst, Psychological mindgames.
Rating for this Chapter: PG-13
CMA: Not intended for under-age readers.
Spoilers: None in this section.
Disclaimer: These characters are not ours. We seek no money from this endeavor, just having a bit of fun in the sandbox.
Feedback: positive feedback welcome
bonnejeanne@yahoo.com and/or seregill@aol.com.
Warnings and Author's Notes by Laekin:
Greetings! Well bonnejeanne and I ride again!!!! This time in the Yami no Matsuei universe. The following fic was collaborated on between us with Bonnejeanne handling Muraki, Tatsumi and a special guest star to be revealed later. I am responsible for Watari and Oriya.
Like "The Doll" this is a very dark fiction. It is psychologically complex, it deals with difficult situations as well as complex issues and it will not be to everybody's tastes. We ask, respectfully, that if you do not feel you can see Muraki as a three-dimensional character who is tragic in his own way, you pass over this fic. No need to explain why, we understand! Some may find the content, the emotions and the implications disturbing. If you are one of those who can be disturbed by such things, you've been warned. Any after effects are not our responsibility.
Bonne's Note: Muraki Friendly Fic, so skip if that's not your thing, no hard feelings.
Degrees of Separation: Part Twelve
Something akin to reaction had been setting in by the time they had almost reached Tatsumi's apartment and Watari found himself more exhausted than he could remember feeling in a long time. Still, even though he was yawning his head off, he'd taken Hisoka's advice and headed almost directly for the shower. Muraki's coat hung, haphazardly, on the back of a chair as he stumbled past.
Trusting in Tatsumi's calm good sense, the younger shinigami had stripped in the bathroom and lost himself beneath the warm spray of the shower for almost twenty minutes, washing himself slowly but thoroughly, from head to foot. Exiting the shower, he hadn't been surprised to find a pair of relatively new looking pajamas, these in a deep green color which would have looked good with Tatsumi's dark hair. Spending another almost twenty minutes in getting the majority of the moisture out of his hair, Watari had dressed, stumbled from bathroom to bedroom, and without comment, had burrowed up under the turned back covers.
When Tatsumi had joined him, ten... maybe fifteen minutes later, the young scientist had honed in towards his partner's warm strength as if drawn on a string. Curled up next to Tatsumi, Watari had then plunged into a deep sleep that kept him motionless and quiet straight through the night.
As much as Tatsumi wanted to stay in bed and shelter his partner from waking, the events of the evening had left things in too strange a condition to do so. He stayed for several hours, then tucked the covers around Watari, left his own pillow in the blond's arms, and reluctantly got up, dressed again, and went in to the office. He left a note on the bedside table next to a pot of tea, and left clean clothes, some of Watari's own things, on one of the chairs.
~ * ~
The scientist didn't even twitch when Tatsumi withdrew from the bed, though Watari did frown in his sleep and make a small mutter before tightening his arms around the pillow and sinking back down into Morpheus's arms. Watari actually continued to sleep for quite a few hours after Tatsumi left but his mind woke long before his body was inclined to shift.
Moving slowly, it took Watari a couple of minutes to reach the conclusion that he was alone in the bedroom. Then, after laying perfectly still and listening, the blond realized he was also alone in the apartment. Figuring that Tatsumi was at the office, Watari started to collect his muzzy thoughts and pushed himself into the sitting position in the bed. Scrubbing his face, he reached for his glasses, perching them on his nose before he could give in to the urge to lay back down in the warmth of the bed. Swinging his legs over the side of the mattress, Watari stood and pattered quietly around the room.
The sight of his clothes caught his eye first, leading to the discovery of the tea...teeeaaaa... and the note. One corner of Watari's lips curved upwards in a gentle smile as he picked up the note, recognizing Tatsumi's handwriting immediately. Flipping it open, he read the contents.
"The official story is that there was an attempted break-in at Emna's offices on the part of unspecified demons/entities in order to steal some magical artifact or other. As a result, many of the offices are closed. Ours is only partially shut down and that more for show than anything.
Don't go to your lab today. When you feel like stirring, come to my office.
003 is with me.
Tatsumi"
Watari blinked, both at the explanation and at the comment that 003 was with Tatsumi. A full smile broke out over his face and he chuckled softly before setting the note aside and going about his morning ritual. Now that he was up and moving, and after a cup of tea, he felt almost awake, if maybe not perhaps alert, and quietly slipped from Tatsumi's apartment, locking up behind him.
Carrying a second cup of tea, and quietly hoping that Tatsumi wouldn't mind his borrowing the cup, the scientist made his way to the shinigamis' bullpen. It was strange to see the place so... quiet... almost deserted. Walking up to Tatsumi's office, Watari removed one hand from around the mug and rapped the back of his knuckles lightly against the doorframe.
Rather than a call to enter, the door opened.
Tatsumi look only slightly flustered to have an owl on his shoulder, but as she quickly abandoned him for Watari he didn't have to worry much about his dignity.
Opening the door wider he waited for Watari to come in before closing it again.
However the brief snapshot in time, when Tatsumi first answered the door with 003 a cute little bundle of feathers on the shoulder of his pristine suit coat, was a picture which would stay with Watari until his final death. But as he had no desire to expedite that death, he kept his thoughts to himself and even managed to cover a gentle chuckle behind a cough and the act of scritching 003 as he entered the office and waited for Tatsumi to close the door. The scientist watched his partner closely, even though normally bright, inquisitive amber eyes were starting to show their *age* that morning.
"You look a bit better," Tatsumi said, not entirely satisfied but understanding a few hours sleep weren't going to cure all the ills of stress and extremity. "Is that extra cup for me, or 003?"
Watari chuckled softly and held the cup out towards Tatsumi. "You, though if you were to offer to share, I'm sure she'd be delighted." As soon as the cup transferred, the blond reached up to run his fingers through his hair. "Ah, thanks... umm... I borrowed your brush. I hope you don't mind." There were some days when only a brush's tender touch could make hair like Watari's presentable for the public.
"I think I've shared enough," Tatsumi said, quickly closing the slightly open desk drawer that held something as untidy as sunflower seeds. He pushed a few loose shells under the desk with his foot. "No, I don't mind. How do you feel?"
Since 003 was sitting and cooing in a way that indicated she'd been indulging in some of her favorite seed snacks, Watari pretended not to look as Tatsumi kicked the evidence out of sight.
"Ah... well... I guess I'm not really sure how I feel," Watari said honestly as he sat on one of the stark metal chairs that decorated Tatsumi's office. "I suppose I should be saying I feel relieved, but... there is still a lot that is going to happen." The scientist paused, then looked up and smiled at the shadow-master. "I do feel a little relieved though."
Tatsumi sat down and leaned back in his chair, watching his lover closely.
"I did not know myself what was happening until I was summoned to Enma last night, after you snuck out. Then no explanations were given, just instructions."
Watari blinked and the smile slowly faded from his face. "I explained, before I left, that I had to go, that'd I'd be back. Didn't you hear me?"
He focused on the one part of Tatsumi's words for the time being, he'd address the second half after he cleared up the first.
Tatsumi pressed his lips together. He opened a different drawer and withdrew a letter opener, skewering several folds of an apparently dormant, somewhat faded looking ribbon.
And in that moment Watari became aware of the fact that when he'd showered the night before, his little passenger had been absent and now he knew why.
He sat forward, as if to reach for the skewered fabric but then seemed to realize that he probably would really be pushing Tatsumi's good will. Still, there was something sad about seeing the faded and dormant little object, almost as if the toucan or 003 were to revert to their inanimate states. "Ah. I see."
"I suppose you'll want to take it to the lab and dissect it or something. Just don't bring it back home, I mean, my apartment, agreed?"
Watari was quiet for a time, but then he began to wonder if maybe he couldn't give it back to Muraki so he held his hand out towards the desk and gave Tatsumi a little smile.
"I'll take care of it."
He received the ribbon which had made the mistake of pissing off an angry Shadow wielder.
Watari sat back with the limp ribbon. He couldn't feel any sort of residual touch of its magic, even when he ran his thumb back and forth along the satin-like strip so, with a soft sigh, Watari tucked it into the pocket of his lab coat, intending to return it to its rightful owner.
Ribbon taken care of, the scientist looked back across the desk at Tatsumi. Now was time to address the second part of the shadow-master's original statement.
"An explanation... is that what you want from me?"
"I was rather thinking you might want one, actually," Tatsumi frowned slightly. "You don't need to explain anything. He compelled you with the runes on your neck, even I can figure that out."
Left, or at least seemingly left, to his own devices through so much of the ordeal, Watari actually blinked in bemusement at the idea of having some of the situation explained to him.
He ducked his head slightly, hiding behind his long honey blond hair for a moment not wanting to try to figure out just how much he'd been compelled by the runes and how much had been his own free will. He'd wrestle with that question later, alone.
"What, can you tell me?" Watari asked, peeking back up from behind his bangs, wary... yet curious.
"Not that much, I'm afraid. It's all been locked under a heading of celestial security. What I just told you is most of what I can. I was hoping you might get more from Enma himself or someone in his office."
Pushing up to his feet, Watari began a slow circuit of Tatsumi's neatly kept office. He was quiet for some time as he moved about and when he finally stood, exhaling a slow breath, all the scientist could do was shake his head and grin ruefully over at Tatsumi.
"All I have is speculation, built upon facts that I believe would fall under that 'heading of security' you mentioned."
Tatsumi nodded, expecting nothing less. He had his own sources of information. He was more concerned about Watari's state of mind than anything else at this point.
"Well since you've been asked, unofficially, not to open the lab today, what do you plan to do?"
Watari knew what answer he wanted to give. He knew what neat, pat answer he was aching to give but in the end, he answered both truthfully... and hopefully.
"I... will need to go and check on Kazutaka...talk with him, try to get an idea of what... of what is left... what has changed. Then I imagine I'll need to speak with representatives of Enma's office to determined what will be done with the mortal Muraki... and after that... I think I'll go and hide in the middle of your bed with the covers over my head and try to make sense of all this."
The last was said with a wry little twist to the scientist's slender lips, an indicator that he didn't know how successful he'd be with the last item on his list.
Tatsumi allowed himself a very slight smile at the last item. It only lasted for a second or two. "Do you want me to come with you?"
The scientist appeared to give the question a good deal of thought before he smiled over at his partner. "Your presence would be a welcomed comfort... but how much work do you have to *handle* today?"
He didn't want Tatsumi to think he was trying to keep anything secret from his partner, his lover... but he didn't want the shadow-master to feel that he needed a keeper either.
"My fair share, but if you want me, it can all wait."
Something twinkled in Watari's warm, amber eyes and despite the stress and strain of the past 24 hours he couldn't quite help answering,
"Now, there's a loaded question."
Eyebrows perking upwards flirtatiously... perhaps the for the first time since they'd become lovers, the younger shinigami was being deliberately flirtatious.
Tatsumi smiled slightly and adjusted his glasses.
"Yes I suppose it is."
Watching his partner's handsome face for a moment, Watari moved forward towards the desk. Walking around the large, overflowing piece of furniture, he stopped only when he stood next to Tatsumi's desk chair, close enough to catch the faintest hint of the other man's cologne.
"I do want you." Words that covered a variety of meanings. "But I can do this on my own and be all right with it."
Tatsumi tilted his head to look at the blond standing next to his chair.
"The other question is, do you want time alone with him?"
Watari swallowed and turned his head to look out of the window that sat in the one exterior wall of Tatsumi's office. His expression was hard to read as he chewed on the question carefully before answering.
"I think... it would be wisest."
Tatsumi accepted Watari's words without outward reaction.
"If you need me, let me know. I mean it."
The scientist studied his lover's face with keen intensity before reaching out and very gently cupping the side of Tatsumi's cheek with his hand.
Tatsumi leaned ever so slightly into the touch for a few brief moments.
Then he said, "He's in the east wing. You'll know where once you get there."
Stroking his thumb along Tatsumi's strong jaw line, Watari reluctantly withdrew his hand, breaking the precious contact. Nodding, he reached up and plucked the little owl from his shoulder.
"I'll let you know when I'm finished and heading back to the apartment. Do you mind if she stays with you a little while longer?"
Watari was scrupulously ignoring the cracked sunflower seed shell sitting at the corner of Tatsumi's ink blotter.
"I suppose... but only because there's no one in the office today," Tatsumi said, reaching for a pile of paperwork.
It was a battle but Watari managed to keep his face straight as he gently transferred the little owl to Tatsumi's broad shoulder.
"Of course, I wouldn't dream of imposing on you otherwise."
The scientist's lips twitched as 003 took a small hop up closer to the side of Tatsumi's neck, cooing her approval of her temporary perch. Birds always knew!
~ * ~
Watari stopped by the apartment long enough to pick up Muraki's overcoat, then with the material neatly folded over his arm, the scientist walked towards the east wing. His strides were long and seemed purposeful, though they also seemed to cover a certain pensiveness that grew more and more pronounced as he drew closer to his destination.
There was a part of him, which had grown... used to the Kazutaka Muraki he'd come to know over the past weeks. The Kazutaka Muraki who had been sharing a body with the soul of his twisted brother Saki, and Watari wasn't certain what of that man was going to be left... or what he would find.
Curious, yet filled with trepidation, Watari followed along the hallway till he came to the only room where Muraki could be located. Then, with a light tap to the door to announce his intention to enter, the scientist opened the door and slipped quietly within.
There were two beds in the room but only one was occupied - or should have been. The covers were pushed back however and there wasn't anyone in the bed.
The french doors were open.
As Watari came closer and looked through, he saw a familiar figure, dressed in pajamas, slippers and a plain robe, all probably hospital issue. The doctor was turned away from him, hands resting on the railing as he appeared to gaze out across the park-like grounds.
Watari felt a moment of panic when he saw both beds were empty but then his eyes lit upon the open doors and he exhaled a tense breath. For a long while, he just stood there and watched the doctor's still form, as if trying to gauge what was going on with the man just from the tension in Muraki's back and shoulders, but Watari had no skills like Hisoka's... or even Tsuzuki's excellent people skills, and he realized he had no idea what might be going on with the mortal man.
Stroking his hand down along the fabric of Muraki's coat, tucking the coat tighter around his arm, Watari approached, but not too closely, before speaking in a low, gentle tone.
"Good morning."
At the sound of his voice, Muraki seemed to stiffen, and he turned around quickly.
The startling thing was the white bandage taped over his right eye socket.
He was not wearing glasses and his remaining eye fixed on Watari with an intense, unreadable expression. But after a moment, some of the tension seemed to leave slowly and he leaned back against the rail.
"You seem familiar." It was a statement, made with all the old arrogance the doctor had once been capable of, but it was impossible to tell if it was real, or feigned to cover a weakness.
As Muraki spun around, Watari froze in his tracks. The white bandage... what the..? He recognized that the doctor could potentially be particularly dangerous at this time and he didn't want to pressure the other man. Still, the words Muraki spoke caused Watari to catch his breath, lips parting, then closing over surprised words.
Tilting his head to the side, the scientist studied the doctor warily, as if trying to discern what game Muraki might be playing. The muscles in his own shoulders tensed and he stroked his fingers along the fabric of the coat in an effort to bleed off some of the unease which was beginning to whisper its way up his spine.
"Ah... you don't recognize me?"
It seemed a logical conclusion but Watari liked to deal in facts, not assumptions.
Muraki didn't answer right away, he continued to look closely at Watari. Then he moved away from the rail and came up to the scientist. His movements were those of someone with less than half the strength of the man Watari was familiar with, but the pride was still there in his walk.
He didn't stop after simply coming close, he reached up a hand and brushed his fingertips lightly along Watari's cheek, and then through a little of his hair.
Then he reached up and touched a spot on Watari's temple, as if feeling for some scar or roughness.
His fingers dropped and he turned slightly away.
"Of course I recognize you. You are one of the shinigami, are you not?"
In the few moments that passed between Watari's question and Muraki's gentle inspection of his face and hair, the scientist was able to set aside his initial shock at finding the razor sharp, cunning, dangerous mind he was used to dealing with... altered. He tracked the way Muraki's touch moved across his face, the way the man's fingers reached for that point where the doll, the doll in his lab, was broken, and Watari reminded himself that Muraki's mind and spirit had suffered a tremendous shock and trauma and that the mortal brain and spirit had very unique ways of coping with such shocks.
Nodding his head, Watari smiled gently at the doctor as he answered, "Yes, yes I am. Yutaka Watari." Watari bowed his head in a gesture of greeting.
"Yutaka. Yes." The single eye narrowed. "Did you come to see the tiger without his teeth?"
Watari's gentle smile took on a bit of a rueful taste but he didn't look away from Muraki.
"No. I came to check on a man I care about. Oh, and to return your coat." Watari had often dealt with difficult situations by playing to the normal routine as much as possible.
"If I gave it to you, then keep it. Unless you find it distasteful." Muraki turned slightly away but he continued to watch Watari from the corner of his eye.
Borrowing one of Tatsumi's tricks, Watari kept his internal thought to himself, concentrating only on what Muraki could see and hear.
Shaking the coat out, the scientist turned to study the room, his eyes alighting on a standing cabinet which was probably the best bet for finding the rest of the doctor's clothing.
"You let me borrow it because I was cold." And perhaps to help cover up the runes before meeting with Enma; Watari was used to Muraki doing almost everything with a dual purpose. "I found it very warm and comfortable, thank you for its use."
Watari's tone was genuine as he spoke, walking to the cabinet and opening it up. He realized that Muraki, especially a Muraki who was potentially vulnerable, had no reason to be anything but defensive with him and though it genuinely caused a hook of pain somewhere in Watari's chest, the shinigami refused to allow Muraki to bait him unnecessarily.
Kazutaka Muraki did not need his tension, or his doubts at this moment, so the scientist kept them under strict guard.
Turning a little more towards him, Muraki watched him put up the coat.
"You look at me a little differently than the others do. Perhaps..." Muraki tilted his head as if considering. The next words were close to a command. "Tell me what happened to me."
As the question echoed in the room between them, Watari took his time in re-hanging the heavy overcoat, loathe almost to loose the distraction for his hands as he considered Muraki's question. He knew that one should never *force* memories on someone who had appeared to have lost their memory but Watari couldn't find the harm in telling Muraki how his life had been changed.
He didn't imagine the doctor would take platitudes or stalling tactics at all well and the truth would be better than letting the man walk around with half-assed assumptions.
Closing the door to the cabinet, Watari turned, pushing his hands down into the pockets of his lab coat as he walked back towards the tall man.
"It is... complicated, but I'll try. Would you like to have a seat?" Watari indicated one of the three comfortable looking chairs which stood between the bed and the french doors.
Muraki chose a chair, watching to see if Watari would sit next to him or leave one empty chair between.
The scientist settled in the chair next to Muraki, leaning forward slightly, his body turned towards the doctor and he was silent, making a careful study of the mortal man's face, and then choosing his words very carefully before speaking.
"It all began a very long time ago and I believe you will remember in time what happened, so as it is not relevant to *what* happened to you, I'd rather let you remember that on your own. As for the more immediate past. You have been... sharing your body, with the soul... the spirit of another. You've done it for a very long time and I imagine, and I hope you will forgive my presumption in doing so, that it feels a little... lonesome to find yourself alone at this moment, but alone you are, now. Two souls, two spirits were not meant to inhabit the same physical body. It provides for conflict, and ultimately you had to make a decision to take your body back, and you did."
Watari was trying to keep from making any sort of judgment on the soul which had shared Muraki's body. He wanted to say, 'you were sharing your body with a soul so black it could block out the stars' but he remembered the way Muraki had wept over the destroyed head of his only brother and Watari knew that he could not hand Muraki such an opinion of Saki. Muraki would have to remember Saki in his own time and reach his own conclusion about whether or not he was better off without his brother's soul riding him.
"You say it was my decision."
Again, the scientist thought long and hard about his answer, replaying the events as they had unfolded. He knew that Enma had probably manipulated the situation to put Muraki in the position of having to choose but ultimately, Muraki could have chosen to give up, to let Saki win.
Nodding, soft honey gold hair brushing across his shoulder in a gentle whisper, Watari answered, "Yes, in the end it was your decision. You fought for yourself."
Watari heard a nasty little voice in his head say ~but did he triumph?~ The scientist smashed that voice ruthlessly.
Muraki was silent for a while, as if thinking about it, or perhaps trying to remember or... who knew?
Then he turned and leaned close to Watari as he sat next to him. He reached up with one hand and pulled down the neck of Watari's shirt.
"You have something on your neck."
Uncertain what exactly Muraki was looking at, Watari turned his head slightly, using the reflection in the french doors to get a good look at his own throat.
The marks of the runes were faded almost to nothing, but at his touch, they seemed to glow a little, faintly.
The scientist exhaled a slow breath and turned back to Muraki. "Yes, but I'm afraid I can't tell you what it means. Their purpose wasn't explained to me when they were put on my neck."
~When you put them on my neck.~ Again, Watari felt the urge to add the comment but held his tongue instead.
"You're prevaricating."
Watari actually smiled. That sounded like *Muraki* and it was good to hear. Taking a deep breath, the young shinigami braced his feet apart and leaned his arms along his thighs, eyes on the doctor's face.
"You're a doctor, Kazutaka. You know one of the golden rules when dealing with memory loss is too allow the memories to return naturally. I'm not prevaricating on purpose."
After a breath... and then another, Watari reached up and brushed his fingers along his own throat, sliding his index finger along the hem of his collar.
"These are your marks, you placed them on me."
For a moment, Watari relived that night, the bath... the quiet... Muraki's arms around him, and his smile was bittersweet before he gave his head a shake and firmly dismissed the image.
Muraki watched him closely, his eye seeming to look very deeply into Watari's as if he could lift out the memories there.
"They are fading."
The intensity of Muraki's gaze was as unnerving as ever and Watari turned his head briefly to look at his reflection in the window. When he looked back he quirked his lips in a rueful little expression.
"Perhaps, they did what they were supposed to do. I think part of their purpose was to give you a way to come here. Or you might not have need of them anymore."
Watari mentally pondered the idea that perhaps the marks had been tied more to Saki than Kazutaka and with Saki's death they were fading... but... something about that theory didn't feel right. Saki had never seemed to have a sexual interest in the scientist and the delivery of the marks... and the arrival of Muraki that night had both had a very sensual feel.
"Hm."
Then, "The boy had marks like that. His are fading faster."
"Are they?" Watari asked, thoughtfully and then he stood and paced towards the french doors, wondering if maybe he needed to revisit the idea that the marks were tied to Saki. Maybe... somehow... powered by Saki, though wielded by Kazutaka. Watari leaned an arm on the doorframe and stared out across the grass. He realized he'd been wanting to think of Saki and Kazutaka as two distinctly different people but that perhaps a more truthful read of the situation was they were in many ways intertwined... using parts of each other to the advancement of the whole.
Turning in the doorway, the young shinigami leaned back against the frame and crossed his arms over his chest, once again looking at Muraki.
"I'm afraid I honestly don't have an answer for you, Kazutaka. Your experience is beyond even my knowledge."
"Do you know what is going to happen to me?" Muraki managed to sound as it he didn't really care, it was merely an idle question.
~No, but I'm going to find out. But first...~
"What would you like, to happen to you?"
"I don't know." Muraki leveled a glance at Watari. "Until you came, I wasn't particularly interested. This is Hades, is it not? That would mean I am dead. Isn't there some vague idea of passing on...? Perhaps a real Hell is waiting for me."
Again, Watari felt a hook of pain somewhere deep in his chest and his expression was kind as he shook his head.
"You're not dead. Yes, this is Meifu but you don't have to be dead to be brought here for... protection or... sometimes other reasons. You still have the option of your life... in fact *I* couldn't send you onward while your candle still burns. You'd have to make that decision on your own."
"I heard voices... I'm not sure when. They were talking, as if about some object, though they used pronouns to describe it. They said something like, 'if he has any power left, they'll want him for our side. If he doesn't, he may as well go to hell'." Muraki looked at Watari. "I thought perhaps they meant me. I thought, if I have any power, I should pretend I don't. I don't think I like the idea of being on someone's... side."
At first Watari thought Muraki had overheard Tsuzuki and Hisoka talking, but he realized the comments didn't sound like either of them, no matter what they each had personally against the doctor, and that other attendants had probably been around the convalescent, who would have had no reason to regard him with any compassion.
Reaching up to push his glasses up off his face, Watari rubbed wearily at his eyes as his mind raced. Behind his hand he chuckled, a soft warm sound and said,
"No, it doesn't surprise me that you don't like the idea of being on someone's side. You're very independent and you know your own mind."
Though it was hard to deny the small thrill Watari felt at the idea of Muraki on their side, he even smiled a little with the thought, but he knew that it would have to be a decision Muraki made willingly, or it would never work.
Lowering his hand, resetting his glasses on his nose, Watari continued.
"You have another option. You've undergone a great change... a change I can't even begin to fathom. But you are still mortal. There is someone on Earth who cares about you, who would shelter you and who has never asked anything of you. Would you go to him?"
Muraki watched Watari as he thought about the shinigami's words, then spoke.
"I imagine he might find me much changed. I'm not of a mind to be looked at with pity. Even tolerance seems... unacceptable."
"This man has been your friend through more changes than I think we can count. I'll just ask that you don't dismiss the idea out of hand. I don't believe you'll find pity in his eyes." Watari kept his voice soft, neutral.
Muraki turned away, his expression unreadable, and then he raised a hand to his forehead and rubbed it. "I'm feeling tired. I think I shall lie down."
Pushing away from the door, Watari crossed towards Muraki.
"Of course, Sensei. I'm sorry for having kept you. Can I get you anything?"
Muraki laughed softly. "A new eye? They tell me I pulled it out with my own fingers sometime last night. Perhaps I didn't like the color. No, you can't get me anything."
He got up and went to the bed, lying down and turning his head slightly, though he watched Watari from the corner of his eye.
Before the shinigami reached the exit, however, Muraki said, "Unless you chose to come back."
His hand reaching for the door, Watari paused and turned back towards the bed. He even took a couple of steps back into the room, his hands sliding down into the pockets of his lab coat.
"Do you want me to come back?"
"Yes."
On silent feet, Watari walked a little closer to the bed.
"Shall I stay for a bit?"
"Not just now. Come back... later."
He was at the foot of the bed by the time Muraki spoke and Watari smiled a little, reaching out to give one of the hospital corners a slight flick before answering.
"All right. If you need me before then, anyone can find me, but if not, I'll come back later."
Turning, Watari rocked on his feet, as if about to take a step before he turned back to the bed. "Rest, peacefully."
Then he was walking back towards the door.
~ * ~
Watari stood in the hallway outside Muraki's room for half an hour after he left, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his head down, expression pensive. Chewing on his lower lip, he looked to his right, in the direction of Tatsumi's office and the bullpen, then turned and walked off towards the left.
Towards Enma's office.
He had questions and though it was not always considered wise to question the way and methods of Enma Daioh, Watari was choosing to exercise his 'obnoxiousness'. He also had a glimmer of an idea but he would need Enma's permission... maybe even the Lord of Hades's support, if it were to work.
Long, determined strides covered the distance swiftly and he approached the reception desk respectfully but with a definite air of purposefulness.
"Excuse me. I need to speak to Enma Daioh."
The woman at the desk was the same one who had bailed on him the night before, but she gave no indication whatsoever that anything untoward had happened in the last century. Adjusting her glasses on her nose, she looked up and said, "You are two minutes late for your appointment, Sensei. Please go in and don't dawdle."
One slim eyebrow arched up towards his hair but Watari didn't say anything. He nodded his head, politely, to the woman and turned to head towards Enma's office.
As he walked towards the large doors, the scientist's lips twitched. He was getting way too familiar with the direction to Enma's office.
Pushing open one door, Watari slipped through, letting the door close behind him as he entered the stately hall. His eyes traveled, automatically, towards the high ornate dais, even though he had yet to see the Lord of Hades sit there.
This time, however, the chair was occupied.
Its size had always seemed like a bad joke, but the being that sat in it today needed all the room the chair provided. Standing, he would have been about twenty-five feet tall and not slender for his build.
There was a curtain hanging from the vaulted ceiling, Watari had barely ever noticed before, but now its purpose was evident. It fell between Enma's face and anyone of mortal stature who might be in the room. It was slightly translucent, the shape of the deity suggested behind it, but features were hidden. There was, Watari realized, the slightest suggestion of black rimmed reading glasses perched about where the god's nose would be.
Attendants in livery appeared at Watari's elbow and ushered him to the appropriate spot on the wide rug before the dais.
"Kowtow once, then don't bow every time he speaks, it annoys him," one of the attendants said in a rote-sounding litany. "Keep requests to a minimum, be respectful at all times... and don't try and peek under the curtain, that's an automatic trip to reincarnation in one of the lower species. Your audience is twenty minutes. No extensions."
Surprised by the fact that Enma appeared to actually be perched on the dais for this meeting, Watari allowed himself to be lead to the "proper" spot. However, as the attendant began to reel off what sounded like a poorly rehearsed script, the scientist's head had turned towards the man and his eyebrows had slowly crept up towards his hairline.
At first annoyed, amusement slowly began to creep in and when the attendant finished speaking, Watari leaned towards the man and whispered in a tone that carried,
"I forgot my ruby slippers. Is that going to be a problem?"
The attendant grimaced sourly. "Thinks he's funny," he muttered. "If I had 500 yen for every time I'd heard that one..." Then the attendants moved away.
Watari had great respect for Enma and his office, but attendants brought out the worst in him and before he could stop himself he called after the retreating figures.
"I've got a really good one about 'trained monkeys' would you rather hear that one?"
The curtain swinging over his head moved slightly as if with a puff of wind.
"It's a dull job," a deep, *deep* voice boomed from above him. "People take it because the benefits are good. Visitors like you are not what they signed on for, Yutaka." The amusement was low key, but detectable, as was the odd, distant kinship between the god's voice and that of the man in black.
The young shinigami turned back towards the curtain and after Enma spoke, Watari executed a flawless bow of deep respect.
"I apologize, Sire."
There was a thread of genuine regret in Watari's voice but it hinted at the fact that the scientist was apologizing for letting his mouth get the better of him in the audience chamber of the Lord of Hades. Were Watari to meet said same attendants outside of Enma's office...it would be a whole different story.
"Waste of time," the deity rumbled. "I was actually expecting you a little earlier. You've been to visit our guest. You have some thoughts to share with me?"
Watari straightened and the brief humor left his eyes as he focused on the curtain. He went to cross his arms over his chest, but seemed to recognize that such an act might be considered rude and instead folded his hands behind his back, gripping his right wrist with his left fingers.
"I was thinking about a couple of things. Yes. First, I'd like to ask. When did my association with Muraki become convenient for you?" Despite the directness of the question, the scientist voice was neutral, curious, perhaps even what one might call accepting of the fact that he might have been a useful tool for the deity he stood before.
"When it began to provide clues that he - and you - might be the true identities of individuals who figure somewhat prominently in a certain set of prophetical texts that have been under examination for the last two centuries." The answer was, in its own way, as direct as the question.
Once again, Watari's eyebrows crept up towards his hair line and he almost took a step towards the curtain but seemed to remember his manners at the last, so instead he just rocked in place. Head tilting slightly, curiosity continued to get the better of him and he blurted out.
"Which texts... what individuals?"
The curtain moved again. "I regret to say you aren't yet in a position to receive those answers."
Watari ground his back molars together. No scientist liked being told 'no you're not allowed to know the answer', but he fought to hold his tongue. Taking a deep breath, he asked instead,
"How did Saki fit into this, prophecy?"
"Those answers are still being determined."
Giving in to the urge to pace a little, back and forth in front of the dais, Watari watched the floor as he considered his next question. Not quite ready to completely let the subject go, yet realizing he didn't really have much more he could ask about, the scientist paused and turned towards the curtain.
"So, you're saying it's possible that my... obsession with Muraki is fueled by something other than my own insanity?"
"No, I'm saying that it's possible an oracle has predicted how your insanity may shape the course of events of rather cosmic magnitude." The booming voice's delivery was deadpan, but again there was a hint of mild amusement, just a little out of range to be called out on.
Watari blinked, looked for a moment as if he might fall over, but one leg reached out and caught him before he could topple.
"Oh. Well. No pressure, I suppose," he spoke in a somewhat dazed tone, before giving his head a shake and starting to pace once again.
He made two circuits of his path, before it seemed to dawn on him that his audience with Enma was not unlimited and he had one more matter of importance to address. Stopping back in the spot where the attendants had placed him, Watari pushed his hands into the pockets of his lab coat and looked worriedly at the curtain.
"What do you plan to do with him... for now?"
"Watch him. Closely." There was a pause. "Nor will we be the only ones doing that."
Watari nodded, frowning a little at the implication in Enma's words.
"Ah, do you mean to return him to Earth? He is still mortal."
"I have been advised against that. A number of interested parties feel he should be placed in some type of confinement, under a binding spell." And the curtain moved slightly again. "And am I correct in guessing you would be opposed to that idea?"
There wasn't even a hesitation before Watari was nodding.
"Yes, yes you would be correct. He will respond badly to such actions. He'll resent them, even if 'interested parties' feel it's for his own safety. We'll never receive his trust, or his... cooperation in the future, were we to need either, if we followed such a course."
And then, the scientist was moving, once again. Pacing. As he walked, he continued.
"It would be like caging a tiger. Sure, we'd know where he is and perhaps it would be a protective measure but we'd kill something within him if we did that, and he'd never forgive us."
"The interested parties are frankly less concerned about his safety than about the potential safety of innocents," Enma responded dryly. "While others among my advisors feel he is harmless, but should be held to account for his actions on Earth.
So you'd suggest I let the tiger roam freely?"
The young shinigami's hands came free of his lab coat and he began to move them in graceful gestures as he walked and spoke.
"I am not saying that Kazutaka Muraki will not stand before the Judges for the crimes he committed on Earth. He will have to face those when he passes from one plane to the other. Perhaps I am mistaking the situation, and you mean for him to make his passage at this time, but I was under the impression that... events were still in motion and greater foes than Kazutaka Muraki were the primary concern."
At the furthest end of his pacing circuit, Watari turned to look in Enma's direction over his shoulder, he smiled an expression that was part rueful and perhaps a little fatalistic.
"Do you doubt your ability to recapture the tiger at your will?"
A low rumble answered that somewhat cheeky question. "My abilities are simply the abilities of my servants, such as my loyal shinigami. Ask yourself that question. Then ask, how will recapture weigh if the tiger manages, while free, to do what he is best suited for, before you get him back."
Watari exhaled a deep breath and his shoulders slumped a little as Enma's logic battered against his need to find a solution.
"I know that releasing the tiger is risky but we don't have many alternatives."
The blond turned around slowly till he faced Enma directly. His expression shuttered, a study in blankness as he asked his next question.
"Unless you mean to kill him."
"If that were under consideration, how many advocates would be willing to step forward and ask for mercy on his behalf?"
Sadness leaked around the carefully maintained mask, and Watari's lips gave a slight twitch as he answered,
"Only one that I know of."
"Name the one."
Drawing in another deep breath, the scientist forced his shoulders to square up and his eyes back up to the curtain separating him from the deity, answering in a clear voice.
"Yutaka Watari."
The curtain moved slightly.
"I will render my decision on the disposition of the mortal Kazutaka Muraki in three days time. Your words will be given equal consideration with other views, a fact which will probably displease all my counselors. In the interval, I am placing him under your wardership."
Perhaps not the most comforting of answers, but Watari recognized that it was a lot all the same. He bowed his head in acknowledgement of the responsibility handed to him but as he straightened, his lips twitched, and something burned, very briefly, in his amber eyes.
"If I'm not pissing someone, somewhere, off... my day's not complete."
"Have you been peeking at the placards behind my office desk again?" The rumble was dry but not without familiarity. "You may leave your ward in the care of the east wing staff, they will best know how to deal with his physical, and some of his mental issues. Just make sure they are doing their jobs and be alert for... interested parties, who might take a notion to disregard my three day grace period. I won't tell you to stay out of the deep fields, sensei. I suspect you realize by now that you are not out of them yet."
Watari was surprised to find that even though Enma was giving him the 'out' he didn't like the idea of just abandoning Muraki to the care, even the excellent care, of strangers.
"I promised I wouldn't abandon him. I'll... keep my eyes open."
One hand tucked into the pocket of his lab coat, the young shinigami gave the Lord of Hades a rueful glance.
"You know... you really ought to mark those deep fields with like... fluorescent tape or something, so innocent little scientists won't blunder into them by accident."
He even went so far as to wiggle a finger in Enma's direction.
"I'll take that under advisement when I meet an innocent scientist. Return with your charge in three days time. You may go."
Watari snorted delicately but bowed respectfully, take a couple of steps back towards the door.
"As you wish, Sire."
He didn't turn his back on Enma until the last possible second, then he turned and disappeared through the large door. With the door closed behind him, Watari hung on to the latch, his expression once again pensive.
"How is it... that for every question I ask, and every answer I receive, I end up with three more questions?" The scientist spoke softly to himself, before pushing away from the door and ambling down the hall.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Epilog: Muraki
For hours after the young man left, I lay on the bed, to every outward appearance asleep. Sleep, however, was far, far away. My body felt appallingly weak, depleted, my energy in a range low enough that I was fairly certain they had given me some drug to keep it so. My mind, however, was not inclined to sleep.
Mind... what a word for the disordered place my thoughts inhabited. Nothing felt right. Every thought felt incomplete. There was a vast empty void that should have been filled with something. Something so lost that I could not even bring from memory its size or shape. Whatever it was, I had no doubt it had been taken from me, just as I had no doubt I was being observed my every waking or sleeping moment.
The young man's explanation illuminated nothing. The only thing I could be sure of was that I was in a place where every eye looked at me as an enemy and therefore, I was in a place not safe to me.
Almost every eye.
There was something about the young man. Though he seemed to prefer not to act the part, at the least, we had been lovers. I knew that as surely as I knew what every inch of his body looked and felt and tasted like beneath his clothes. Sweet, yet sharp and piquant and not without danger, but such a flavor was to my taste, I thought. I was fairly certain of it.
This young man, this shinigami undead creature was my only possible ally. There was something in that to be amused about, if I had more of the context.
His presence alone made me curious to stay. That, and the press of energies that pulsed around this place, energies I could feel like the raising of hair on naked skin. The sensation made me hungry but the specifics of my appetite were like everything else, vague and distorted, lacking in meaning.
I lay for a long time, hearing a door open and close, hearing the sound of the supper tray being placed down, and the soft mutter of the attendant, even as I tried to decide if he could be used to facilitate my quickly forming intention.
Had I been more... myself? I could have seized the opportunity. Human blood would be the best ink for the runes I had to draw, but in the end I had to use my own.
They hadn't left a knife on the dinner tray or even a fork, but the ceramic spoon was easy enough to break for a sliver. So much for prudence versus civility.
It took a long time to draw the circle. My memory was incomplete or, rather, its knowledge seemed rather frequently misfiled. I expected to be burst in upon at any moment but the watchers were bored or neglectful or, perhaps, I was less important that my paranoia would have me believe.
Binding the slash in my arm with a strip from the pajamas, I put on the white trenchcoat the young man had returned. It was the only item of clothing in the room that didn't belong to the hospital ward of hell. With it over my bare chest and the pajama bottoms, I looked merely half lunatic, rather than whole.
Stepping into the circle drawn with my own blood, I grappled with a desire to delay my departure long enough to find the young man and tuck him under my arm to take with me, like an arcane souvenir. It was impractical, so with regret, I let it go.
To say I went does not describe the struggle, the torturous grappling with the boundaries that had to be penetrated to achieve even the semblance of freedom. Perhaps I am being melodramatic when I say it nearly killed me, perhaps merely stating fact. The weakness was all the greater when I gained a destination, and one less hospitable in every way than the one I'd departed from, except in that I was there by no will other than my own.
It was cold, rain lashed exposed skin like little needles and a storm raged overhead with deafening clamor. Buffeted by it, barely keeping my feet on the wet stones, my attention fastened on a single steady light, warm behind a window, and a sign beside the door I could barely read. The characters there seemed familiar but their meaning was lost in the storm and my efforts to remain on my feet as I stepped barefoot over the hard, slippery surface.
"KoKakuRou"