8-Feb-2004
Title: Degrees of Separation
Chapter: 4
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: NC-17
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 Four
Watari once again cursed his lack of power when it came to his spirit sense. He could detect at a close range, but did not have the area of effectiveness of a Tsuzuki or a Tatsumi. Clearing the garden gate, the young shinigami stepped into the middle of the street, twirling around a full 360 as if expecting to see a sign pointing a direction, but there was nothing.
~Another good reason to have a partner... but I'm on this alone, come on Yutaka, think!~
A stiff breeze had picked up sometime in the hours he'd spent with Muraki; the cold air swirled around Watari, picking up the edges of his coat and flinging them around his legs. The blond had to ignore the way his hair kept snapping into his face as he turned, his mind moving much faster than his body.
~To the hospital... to the boy... his handiwork... no. No, Saki could *break* something there. Alright, not the hospital... then where? To the warehouse, where Saki's head was kept. Maybe... Saki might drive Kazutaka there to torment him... but, Kazutaka wouldn't let himself be *driven* easily. Where else... where else...~
Watari paused in his turning, facing towards the Eastern side of the town.
~The Philosopher's Path. Where Tsuzuki was driven. Where people go... to battle with what ails their minds... Yes, maybe.~
Destination in mind, Watari jumped skywards and was gone in a warping of the fabric of the Earthbound dimension. When he next appeared, it was at the simple stone marker which sat at the head of the Path. Here, due to the warm water fed by underground springs, a heavy fog once again shrouded the area, much as it had the morning Tsuzuki had retreated to the refuge of the Path. Pulling his coat around himself once more, Watari dove into the dense fog, traveling the path, looking for Kazutaka Muraki.
He was unfortunately unsuccessful in finding the one he sought.
Having failed to find his quarry on the Philosopher's Path, Watari reversed his logic and made his way to the warehouse, but the structure no longer existed as such. It was a pit, blackened, unrecovered due to difficulty in locating a legitimate owner.
The enormous tank structure where a disembodied head had once been kept was a melted heap of slag.
Which left the first place on his list, the one most immediately discarded. Perhaps he'd misunderstood what the boy was to Muraki.
By this time dawn was lightening the sky. The day shift would be coming on at the hospital. He could go as he was, and risk drawing attention, or take a moment to clean himself up.
By now, the young shinigami was cursing up a streak that would have pulled the immortal petals of Meifu's sakura trees off their branches. As dawn was quickly approaching, he couldn't jump, at least not as closely as he could have to the hospital under the cover of night, and he had to close the distance of the last couple of blocks at a jog.
Up the stairs, he put a harried expression on his face, no real acting needed, and tried to look like the rest of the overworked residents who had perhaps hit the snooze bar one too many times. Dashing into the locker room, he exchanged his overcoat for his lab coat, credentials hooked to the pocket and then he was racing for the stairs.
~Last time I was here, I couldn't even walk *down* a flight of these things!~ Watari thought to himself as he jogged up the flights. He knew, as did anyone who ever spent any bit of time in a hospital, that the elevators were way too slow.
Popping out at the stairwell to the ICU, Watari fought to catch his breath and look somewhat normal as he headed down the hall towards the boy's room. Grabbing a stray clipboard that held nothing more than some sort of raffle ticket book, he studied it in a very intent way.
~Carry a clip board, study it intently and look like you know where you're going and people won't stop you. You hope!~
In what was possibly his first break since he'd started looking for Kazutaka, this adage held to form and Watari was soon cautiously pushing open the door to the boy's room.
He was surprised to see someone else in the room, but not the person he expected. A man and woman were standing by the bed, talking softly, hands clasped. When the door opened, the woman, whose face was worn with care and worry, looked over her shoulder.
"Sensei?" she asked. "Do you need us to leave? We just got here..."
Watari froze in the doorway, blinking at the pair. Sitting in spirit form on the heart monitor, 003's large eyes blinked at her human and she gave a soft hoot of greeting and inquiry. Watari gave her a very subtle shake of his head, which also fit to the answer he was going to give the woman.
"Ah, excuse me. No, no of course not. Stay as long as you wish." He didn't attempt to come up with an excuse for his sudden entrance. Giving the woman a reassuring smile, he began to move back towards the door to leave the room.
"Sensei?" the woman asked as he retreated. "When... can you tell us when we can take Kimishima home?"
Watari froze in his tracks, caught by the woman's tired but hopeful eyes. Again, his logic deserted him as he stood there without an answer to give her. At least, not an answer she would understand or accept. He blinked at her a couple of times, then he twisted her own words about, which allowed him to answer her without lying to her.
"I'm afraid I can't." The young shinigami's voice was considerate and calm, but there was a slight hint of something in his tone which would hopefully dissuade her from more questions.
"Oh... Will... will Muraki-sensei be here today?"
"I'm afraid that I am uncertain of Muraki-sensei's schedule." ~In fact I don't know where the man is!~ Watari smiled and looked properly sheepish as he admitted this.
"Gomen nasai, arigato."
Watari bowed his head to the pair, exchanged one last quick look with 003 and then retreated while he could. Throwing himself back against the wall just to the side of the door, the young shinigami lifted the clipboard up to cover his face. He did not want to have to think what it would do to that woman... to that family... when the time came for him to take that child.
This was why Watari fought to remain clinically detached from his cases. Why he moved swiftly when he was on the job. He'd let the Tsuzukis and the Tatsumis of the division get caught up in the emotional entanglement left behind by the grief-stricken. Only today, he wasn't moving nearly fast enough and he was also struck by the knowledge that because of *him*, because Muraki had needed a way to call *him*, that family was going to suffer more pain then they should have.
"Damn it," Watari whispered, lowering the clipboard and lifting his hand to his forehead to rub at a headache starting to form there. "And I still don't know where he is."
The young shinigami stood there for sixty-three ticks of the clock, then he seemed to re-gather himself and he pushed away from the wall.
"Still one more place to check... and if that strikes out... then I just start scouring."
Moving purposefully, clipboard in hand, Watari headed for the terminal ward.
He made it only a few steps before a familiar voice behind him said, "You are early. I said to meet me here at ten o'clock."
Watari spun around, nearly sending himself into the wall like an out of control pinball. He stood there, frozen except for where he blinked at Muraki as if trying to discern if the man was really there. After a beat, the young shinigami's shoulders slumped and he reached up to rub his eyes with his thumb and index finger, pushing his glasses up into his hairline.
"Yes, well, as I spent the night looking for you, I ended up here a little earlier than expected."
The blond fought a good battle at keeping his tone even and inflectionless, his hand over his face helping to hide any stray expressions.
Muraki looked immaculate, as perfect as Watari was rumpled, in his white suit and trench coat.
"Perhaps then I should buy you a cup of coffee," the doctor said calmly.
Watari lowered his hand and let his glasses perch haphazardly on his nose. Though he rarely gave any particular concern for his own appearance, he did quirk an eyebrow at Muraki's near mannequin-like perfection.
Lips twitching, the blond scientist looked down at his purloined clipboard, thumb fiddling with he clasp.
"Kimishima-kun's mother is here. She was asking for you." Snapping the clip back down onto the clipboard, Watari considered asking how exactly Muraki planned to explain to that woman that her child was still going to perish, but he recognized that it would only be a cranky dig on his part so he kept his mouth shut.
Muraki nodded. "It was my intention that you meet her," he said. "The fact that both of you were early is convenient. I'll speak with her later. I think you need the coffee."
He walked up beside Watari and took the clipboard from his hands. Then he guided him by the elbow. Stopping at the nurse's station, he gave the clipboard to a nurse. "This was out of its place. Disgraceful. I will have to report the disorganization to the floor supervisor," he said, and then guided Watari down the hall towards the doctor's lounge.
Eyebrows snapping together, Watari opened his mouth to speak to Muraki's comment that the doctor was planning a meeting between himself and Kimishima's mother but as usual, Muraki smoothly took control of the situation and before the young shinigami realized what had happened he was stepping through a door into the empty, coffee scented lounge.
Standing a few steps into the room, Watari's lips quirked. "That was unkind. The clipboard was not left out of its place by any of the hospital staff's negligence."
Muraki smiled. "No, it was your fault," he said. Then he poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Watari. "Sit down before you fall down."
The shinigami took the cup in an automatic gesture, wrapping his long fingers around the warm mug, feeling the heat of the coffee sink through the ceramic and into his flesh. Though he considered being difficult, the consideration didn't last and Watari took a couple of steps until he could sink down onto one of the straight-backed chairs that sat around the lunch table.
Leaning forward so his elbows resting on his knees, the cradled mug of coffee hanging between his legs, the young blond unconsciously adopted one of his partner's pensive poses as he tried to take a couple of deep breaths and sort through the mis-mash of thoughts in his mind.
Lifting the mug to his lips for an instinctive sip, Watari winced as the coffee nearly crawled out of the cup and down his throat. Lowering the mug back to its original spot he licked his lips, tasting the bitterness of the coffee on his tongue.
"Did you have a productive walk?"
Muraki sat in another chair, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankles. "You should have stayed at the cottage. Oriya would have made sure you were comfortable, and fixed you a nice breakfast."
Taking another sip of the coffee, Watari's head remained bowed, which allowed the blond to hide behind his curtain of hair.
"You promised to protect me till the morning. As soon as you left the cottage it became unsafe. Circumstance dictated I move and besides... I was trying to find you."
Part of Watari's mind groaned at the frank honesty of the words, but the scientist found he didn't have the energy to fence with Muraki, at least... not about this subject.
The moment Watari reminded Muraki of the promise, the man in white froze to ice-stillness.
He stayed very still for a long moment after Watari stopped speaking.
"And you believed one of my promises?" he answered finally, but to the shinigami, it almost seemed as if the cool amusement was false, forced. Reaching up, the doctor pushed his glasses up with his whole hand, the first time Watari had ever seen him perform such a gesture. It was startlingly like Tatsumi. "Believe me, you were safer in the cottage than wandering around Kyoto. Let's not argue about it. You are a messenger of Meifu, here on a mission. I am a monster, here to cause human misery. These are things we should always remember."
Silence fell in the lounge and it didn't seem as if Watari was going to break it immediately. Still crouched over, his hands cradled the mug and occasionally lifted it up to his face for a sip. With his fingers threaded together under the handle, he looked like a young child holding a cup of hot chocolate, given to him by a loving parent to help ward off a chill picked up while playing too hard in the winter snow.
He didn't miss the way Muraki shifted his glasses. In fact, the action brought a little brightness to his amber eyes a moment before Watari ducked his face back behind his hair. He had finished off the coffee, stood and moved towards the pot before speaking.
"Yes, I did believe one of your promises. Because you have yet to break your word to me." He spoke in a quiet, almost serene tone. Filling the mug halfway, he took a sip, shuddering at how even a few extra minutes had turned the liquid even more bitter. Turning around, the young shinigami leaned his hips back against the counter and though his hair still fell into his face, he was finally looking directly at Muraki.
"I am a Shinigami of Meifu and on this mission, I will be the monster here to cause human misery when I break that mother's heart and take her son back with me." There was nothing argumentative about his tone, more a case of the scientist sharing how *he* saw things, with the doctor.
Muraki watched his face, listening. Then he nodded. "Very well. I told you I would share my discovery, the secret of how the boy lives. But before I do, will you answer my question?"
The tone in his voice was remarkably informal, a simple request.
Holding the mug more like an adult this time, Watari tapped one long finger against the edge, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he nodded.
"If I can."
"What *does* it do to a soul to be kept here after the candle goes out?"
This time the quiet was even longer. As if Watari were battling with himself about something. When he did speak, his voice was neutral but it was the type of neutrality that one used to cover up one's own emotions about a subject that you had to remain objective about.
"It is devoid of human warmth, human kindness. The soul becomes cold, burnt, as jagged as the cindered wick left behind on the candle wax. The flame of... well of humanity is gone."
Muraki listened, his head cocked slightly to one side. After a moment he reached into a pocket and pulled out his hand, closed over something. When he opened his hand, Watari saw a double-terminated crystal sitting on the doctor's palm. The crystal seemed to glow with an inner rainbow light that flickered and pulsed.
Standing up, he walked over and placed the crystal in Watari's hand.
"Here, shinigami. Do your office."
Watari stared at the crystal, slowly turning it back and forth along his palm, watching the light flicker within the mineral's depth.
"How?" He whispered, holding the crystal up and looking over its point at Muraki. "How did you do this?"
"Is that important? I did it. It does not seem cold, does it? Nor does the boy seem devoid of humanity. However I suppose I can hardly be considered a worthy judge," the little curve of Muraki's lips was ironic. "This is how he lives. Break the crystal and it will return to his body and he will die. You can't imagine how surprised I was to discover it was really that simple. This is what you didn't want to hear. I discovered that death is not in the body. It is written into the soul. Instructions to die. Remove the soul and death is suspended. I don't suppose it matters to you what it means. It means that nothing we do, nothing we learn, no act of will or effort or science or prayer has any power over it. The time comes, we expire... like overdue library books. What need for doctors, hospitals, even churches?"
He turned his back to Watari, coat flaring around him. "The powers you serve mock our every struggle. Shall I repent of murder? Had the knife not fallen, would the souls not still have told them to die? Are we not all, murderers, accident, disease, war, neglect, are we not all merely servants of those who decide such things?"
Watari's thumb held the crystal against his palm and he stared down into the beautiful colors, felt its weight against his hand, and Muraki's words echoed back and forth in his head. Drawing his eyes off the crystal, he looked over at Muraki's back. The coat seemed to accent the broad shoulders, the silky platinum blond hair just brushing the collar.
Pushing away from the counter, the young shinigami walked up behind the doctor. Reaching out with his free hand, he closed his fingers very lightly around Muraki's upper arm, not hard enough to hold or even really restrain the mortal man should the doctor choose to pull away.
"Listen to your own words, Kazutaka. 'Remove the soul and death is suspended', but what happens to the body without the soul? Maybe not in the short term, but the long term. What happens to the soul trapped within this crystal? Unable to grow, unable to experience, unable to *live*. Are we not merely servants to the Fates? Perhaps we are. Perhaps our ultimate destination is preordained and set before us, but does that mean we should throw away the steps we take getting there? Do we just look at it, throw up our hands and say, 'Oh well, it doesn't matter anyway, might as well lay down and let it happen.' How do we carry ourselves under the burden of such knowledge? Those questions can not be answered from within this crystal."
Taking a step, moving around in front of Muraki, Watari looked up into the pale, handsome features. "Life... yes, it hurts and it's painful and it's often grossly unfair and it can make a person angry. And you know... there are times when no matter what you do, or how hard you try... you can't change it, you can't fix it, but then the only thing you can do is decide whether or not it was worth it to yourself to try... to fight." Holding the crystal up, the blond watched Muraki with sad, pain-filled amber eyes.
"Do you honestly believe this is the right answer? Or is it the easy answer?"
Muraki laughed, rich and fully, without moving out of Watari's light grip. "Right? Easy? To whom? To what? This is only the tip of the iceberg, as the saying goes. I'll let you answer that question. If you wish, you can pose it to Kimishima's mother. 'Kaga-san, would you want your son to live without his soul, or die, now, with it?' Or simply do as you chose, as your job dictates that you do. But it is only the first of those questions. Look further. If it is wrong, why was I permitted to do it? As for easy... it was far from easy to extract this essence without damaging it. Far from easy to keep it without harming it. But it only hints at what is possible. Have you never asked why your superiors have never sent any of you shinigami directly after me?"
Actually, the question had never really formed in Watari's mind. His focus had been otherwise directed and he frowned as he realized that perhaps he should have expanded his questions to encompass the one Muraki posed now.
All Watari could do was shake his head. His eyes had gone back to the crystal and he was looking at it as if he loathed it.
Muraki turned around after a moment of silence. He studied Watari's face. Then he held out his hand.
Watari looked at the outstretched hand, but his own fingers closed around the crystal. His voice was low, inflectionless as he spoke.
"You said it was to me, to do as my job dictates. My responsibility."
Muraki simply continued to hold out his hand.
Still holding the crystal, Watari took a step back and away from the doctor, shaking his head slowly from side to side.
"This is my job... it is my job." He repeated, sounding as if he was trying to get his own logical mind back on track. But the attempt seemed to be having a hard time reconnecting as just a moment later the young shinigami practically yelled.
"Damn you!"
But for what, was the question.
"Yes, it is your job. And when it is done, your job will be completed. Give it to me and I will finish your job. I did it the last time you needed someone to finish the job." And then Muraki added the last two words. "Trust me."
Watari had backed himself into the corner made by the counter and he watched Muraki from beneath tangled bangs. For a moment, his emotions made his amber eyes bright, snapping with multiple shades of gold, but as the shinigami drew in breath after breath, he seemed to calm.
Muraki's words hurt. In fact Watari wondered if he were bleeding from a cut somewhere on his body from their sharp honesty. But it was that honesty which he had to acknowledge. Muraki was speaking a brutal and uncomfortable truth and though the young shinigami ached to throw the words back at the doctor, he also knew that to do such a thing would be unfair.
Pushing away from the counter, he began to move towards the door.
"This is my job. I finish it."
"In that case, good bye, Yutaka-san," Muraki said, his hand falling to his side, as he watched Watari walk away.
Watari paused, a step away from the door and he swayed as it took a moment for his body to catch up with the position of his feet. He stood there, clenched fist relaxing slightly so he could open his fingers and look down at the crystal resting against his flesh.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why do you offer to finish this job?"
"Come now," Muraki said, and his voice was almost gentle. "I created this, is it so strange to think I might uncreate it? As for why... if I see you again, perhaps I will tell you. You didn't deny, the last time, that it was something I was good at. I can do this, as well. Kaga-san trusts me."
As he stood there, image after image began to snapshot along in Watari's mental eye. His request of Muraki the first time, the deal, the bath, the talk on the walk down to Iwao-san's house, going to Muraki when Nagare was in distress, the injection, the equipment, the plan, Nagare-san's *death*, Rui-san's ordeal, Yatonogami, the night in Tokyo... hands around his throat... on and on the images flashed, crashing against other whispered words both from Watari's conscious and his subconscious and as the cacophony of image and sound finally crested and then fell away, leaving only silence and stillness, Watari turned and held the crystal out towards Muraki.
"I trust you."
Muraki placed his hand over Watari's, just holding it there for a moment. Then he took the crystal. "You are a very, very strange man," he said with another little smile. "Come."
He led the way out of the lounge and back to the boy's room. Opening the door, they saw that Kaga-san and her husband, the boy's step-father, were still there. They looked up, and Muraki went over to them, and placed his arm around her shoulders and drew then aside.
Kimishima was awake, and watched them quietly, without saying anything. As Muraki talked to the adults, the boy glanced over at Watari and smiled.
Strange was one word... there were others Watari flung at his own head but he followed Muraki along almost docilely. As they stepped into the room, he hung back, watching Muraki take the mother and her second husband off to the side to speak. His eyes swung back to the bed and froze as he realized that the boy was awake.
Watari felt his heart twist as Kimishima smiled at him. For the briefest of seconds he felt an urge to move quickly to Muraki, to tell the doctor to protect the crystal but years, decades of training made him hold his ground. Instead, he walked over towards the bed, smiling in a gentle manner to the boy.
"Hello."
"There's an owl in my room," the boy said. "My mother says there's not one but he's right over there."
The young shinigami blinked and his eyes went unerringly to where 003 was perched. The little owl chirped indignantly at being labeled male, given the males she lived around one could understand her point, but Watari didn't attempt to correct Kimishima.
"What does the owl look like?" he asked instead, hunkering down on his heels beside the bed so the boy didn't have to arch his neck trying to look at him.
"Brown and white," the boy said. "I've never seen a real one before."
Watari felt another twinge because while 003 was real to him, he could not deny that she was one of his constructs. He could well remember his own desire to see everything, experience everything.
"Maybe if you asked the owl, she would come over and meet you?"
The boy looked skeptical. "Maybe. Are you a doctor?"
Watari's lips twitched with warm amusement at the boy's answer. At the following question, however he paused and chose his words carefully.
"Not like Muraki-sensei."
The conversation distracted the boy from hearing his mother start to cry softly. But she got hold of herself. In a moment, the two parents came to the other side of the bed. Muraki joined Watari, leaning over to feel the boy's forehead.
"How do you feel?" he said.
"Kind of tired," Kimishima said. He looked up at the doctor steadily.
Muraki nodded. "You will be able to rest soon. Are you afraid?"
The boy shook his head. "Mother has Hidaka-san, now," he said, glancing at the man beside his mother with a kind smile. "So I'm not worried about who will take care of her or my brother. It's okay, Muraki-sensei. Thank you for trying."
Muraki took the boy's hand. "Your courage humbles me, Kimishima-kun. I am very proud of you. Now rest. You have earned it."
The boy smiled, and seemed to get sleepy. He closed his eyes. Muraki looked at his mother and step father. "Stay with him. I will send a nurse in when you need them."
Then he placed his hand over the boy's heart. Only Watari saw the flicker of the crystal, palmed away from the parents. Muraki held it over the boy's heart for a moment, then drew his hand back. The boy continued to sleep.
As he knelt there, listening to the boy's soft, courageous words, Watari was reminded why it was so easy to become attached... involved. He forced himself, as Muraki spoke to the boy, to look up into the faces of the mother and the step-father, seeing the pain in their eyes even though they both held remarkably controlled countenances, trying to remain calm and serene for the sake of the boy on the bed.
~Enma, help me.~ Watari thought to himself when he saw the crystal in Muraki's palm, because he almost reached out to stop the doctor, but it was over and finished so quick, so quiet... so peaceful that the young shinigami didn't have a chance to stop what he himself had insisted upon.
"Come, Watari-sensei," Muraki said, and drew the shinigami out into the hall.
Once outside, he placed the crystal in Watari's hand. It was quite clear.
Standing, with a bow of his head to the two adults, Watari walked out into the hall with Muraki. His expression was deeply thoughtful and perhaps even a little lost as he held out his hand automatically to take the crystal. Holding the crystal, he rotated it slowly, as if searching for the colors within, or perhaps puzzled by its very existence. His eyes slowly moved off the quartz and up towards Muraki's face. Drawing in a breath, the young shinigami's lips quirked upwards, just barely, in a humorless grin.
"And yet still, you confuse me," he whispered.
Muraki smiled. "Please let me know when I bore you." He turned and stood beside Watari with his back to the wall. "Kaga-san has been told that the new procedure was unable to sustain the improvement. And that his time is near. They will stay with him until he slips away. Will you take him yourself? But perhaps I shouldn't ask. It seems that your mission is almost ended. I wonder if we will see each other again."
Watari's eyes moved to the doorway, then he turned and took a couple of steps towards a simple chair that sat outside the opposite doorway. Sitting down, he leaned his head back against the wall and looked at Muraki, studying the doctor from head to toe and back again.
Holding up the crystal, Watari let his head fall to the side before saying, "You said that if you saw me again you would tell me why. So... I suppose it is now my turn, to find you."
Muraki smiled. "I admit, I was somewhat disappointed in how briefly I was able to enjoy your company last night."
Watari carefully threaded the crystal through his fingers, the way one might roll a quarter, his eyes following its path, his mind trying to work the pieces of what felt like three separate puzzles. Grasping the crystal once again in his palm, he looked sharply towards the doorway to the boy's room and frowned, an expression of sorrow flitting across his features.
"I can feel his death... approaching."
The young shinigami was silent for a moment, giving the words a certain respectful quiet before his eyes came back to Muraki's face.
"If I sought you out at the cottage this night, would I find you?"
Muraki looked back, his eyes glimmering like clear water. "Yes."
Watari seemed to go perfectly still then he nodded and leaned back till his head rested against the wall. Long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed in that nearly universal pose of long-legged people everywhere, he crossed his arms over his chest.
A half a minute passed, and suddenly there was a flutter of wings as 003 left the room and flew over to perch on her human's shoulder. She turned her back on Muraki and fussed with Watari's tangled hair. The blond reached up with an affectionate smile and brushed his fingers over her feathers, before opening his eyes and looking across the hallway at Muraki.
His expression was best described as resigned. "Vulture duty, I believe you called it?"
"I wonder if I will have such an attractive attendant when my time arrives," Muraki mused aloud, showing not the slightest discomfort at hearing his jibe returned.
Watari stretched a little in the chair and let his head fall to the side, contemplating Muraki at an angle. His lips twitched in a gentle smile and one eyebrow arched upwards.
"Already planning to either die or extend your life by supernatural means?"
The smile he received in return could only be described as sphinx-like.
There was a brief surge of what probably felt like magic to Muraki. Watari's slender, sprawled form wavered for a half a second then settled back down but now, only Muraki could see the shinigami.
Head laid back against the wall once more, Watari gave 003 one last stroke and then closed his eyes.
"Unless watching a dead man nap amuses you, Sensei... I shall look for you tonight at the cottage."
There was just too damn much tumbling around in his mind for Watari to get any sort of handle on his own thoughts he felt... almost like he risked cheating Muraki, if he attempted to converse with him. He... he was almost afraid he would become... banal.
Muraki simply watched the shinigami, until he actually did sleep.
~ * ~
Watari waited until the boy's soul passed and then he and 003 gently shadowed the child back to Meifu, making certain that there were no lingering side-effects from the soul's time in the crystal. As soon as Kimishima was passing through doors to be readied for his meeting with the Generals, Watari sheered off and headed for his lab.
Once in the sanctuary of his workspace, he set 003 on her perch, spending ten minutes petting her and talking to her and generally telling her she was a good girl and his good friend. Then he moved for the small apartment he kept just off the lab. Getting rid of his clothes, he stepped under the shower, the water on at a temperature that only immortal skin could have withstood and stood there, back to the spray, hands braced on the wall, head hanging, for over an hour, his thoughts swirling around in his head.
The puzzle of the crystal and what that sort of knowledge could mean to the world... that just frightened the hell out of Watari.
The puzzle of Muraki... Kazutaka and Saki... how long had Kazutaka carried his brother... had it been voluntary... did it explain why Saki's brain function was not at risk even though his physical brain matter was being pickled? How the hell had it even happened and what mysteries of Kazutaka would this explain... mysteries like how had the man escaped Tatsumi's shadows... how had the man come to Meifu itself and taken Tsuzuki away from Suzaku, how had he survived Touda's fire, Tsuzuki's attack... and perhaps, how he came to know the secrets of the crystal.
The two puzzles seemed to dance together but then spin away from each other in a dizzying pattern that left Watari's normally logical and methodical brain reeling. Reaching back to smack off the water, he stayed in the shower stall for a few more minutes, then finally emerged.
Questions and answers continued to do-si-do in his brain as he dried himself off and dressed in jeans and a warm, cotton cable knit sweater with a high collar. It was a dark heathered black color and not one he wore often but it suited his mood and was very warm. Sitting in the one lounge chair the small apartment sported, Watari brushed out his hair, taking a good hour with the long mass as it dried, turning it from a tangled rat's nest into a soft shimmering fall of honey gold satin.
Setting the brush down, he stood up and made his way to the door. He needed to report to Konoe at least, let the chief know that the case was completed. Given the time of day, it was not too difficult to make it to Konoe's office without drawing too much attention to himself. A smile and a wave for Wakaba and Terazuma, an impish grin to Saya and Yuma and a duck behind a filing cabinet to dodge Tsuzuki and he was soon outside Konoe's office. Knocking on the door, Watari waited till he was bid to enter, his heart in his throat as he realized there was a good chance that Tatsumi might be in the office with Konoe.
However, finally he caught a break and the office was sans shadow-master. Konoe had a stack of reports sitting on his desk and a harried expression on his face so Watari didn't waste words, just delivered the news that his case was completed, the soul retrieved and delivered and the source... the source of the soul retention had been identified and was being further investigated. That was enough information for the chief at that time.
Being able to add the 'being further investigated' also gave Watari the freedom to shift back to Earth without really raising any eyebrows. After all... part of why he was going back to Muraki was to further investigate the crystal.
Sneaking out the door, without looking like he was sneaking out the door, Watari wasted no time in getting out of the bullpen. Laughter caused him to pause for just a moment in the doorway, and he turned towards the sound.
Within, Terazuma and Tsuzuki were facing off over one of Wakaba's homemade treats. Hisoka was standing just behind his partner, the young shinigami's beautiful green eyes were cast ceilingward in the universal 'give me strength' expression. On the other side, Wakaba stood looking cute and sweet and talking quickly trying to reassure her partner that she would make him his own container of sweets if he just shared with Tsuzuki, and lingering slightly apart from the confrontation, yet with an obvious eye on the whole was Tatsumi, slowly stirring some honey into his tea.
As the voices continued to rise, drowning each other out until Watari couldn't pick one voice out from the rest, the blond shinigami felt a smile tickle the corners of his lips. It was tempting to walk back into the bullpen, to the breakroom, and add his own two cents to the ruckus, but to do so would be selfish. Because after the fun subsided there would be questions, questions he wasn't ready to answer... and then there would only be hurt, confusion and pain.
Shaking his head, arms closing around his chest, fingers curled up into the sleeves of the slightly oversized sweater, Watari turned away from his bantering friends and headed back towards the lab. He had six hours before he was due at the cottage... maybe he'd try working on that invisibility potion some more.
The six hours passed with only one minor explosion and in truth, working on something completely unrelated to the rest of his confusing life helped calm and settle the young blond's nerves. Noting the time, Watari quickly shut down the burners, checking twice to make sure he hadn't left anything on, and then went to clean his hands and get his coat.
003 chirped, inquiringly at him as he moved towards the door and Watari shook his head. "No, stay here."
Another little chirp, this one obviously one of concern, issued from the owl, and Watari turned towards her and leveled a finger in her direction.
"Leave it alone, I'll be back. Don't worry."
With those words, he slipped through the door and made his way out of the building. Trotting down the stairs, he spoke the command words that caused him to shift between Meifu and Earth between one step and the next, once again popping out at the shrine.
Taking in a breath of the cold, Earth air, Watari grumbled softly, "I need to remember a scarf," and made his way down the path towards the entrance for the shrine.
~ * ~
His path to the KoKakuRou took him past the festival once again, and his steps slowed as he peered down the block, caught by all the lights, the merriment and the rest of it. Smiling wistfully, Watari stopped and listened to a song being played somewhere in the heart of the festival, waiting till the last notes fell away from the night air before he continued on his journey.
Even with the small detour, it was exactly eleven o'clock when he let himself into the KoKakuRou's gardens, made his way to the cottage and knocked on the door.
Just as on the previous night, the door opened and the cottage's occupant stepped back to allow him to enter. Muraki's hair appeared to be damp from a bath or shower, and he was dressed in a robe, not the green silk one Watari had seen in the Kurosaki household, but a white one that had a traditional embroidering of birds across the back. He feet were in house slippers.
Watari stepped through the door almost on autopilot but he paused in the act of toeing off his shoes to look at Muraki. The man's, relaxed, nearly... domestic appearance startled the young shinigami.
~I think this is the first time I've had more clothes on than he has.~ The stray little thought flitted through the shinigami's brain.
Giving his head a shake and turning back to the job of getting out of his shoes, Watari shrugged out of his coat, hanging it neatly on the hook where Muraki had placed it the last time.
"Have you eaten?" Muraki asked politely, indicating a large ceramic tureen on a table with bowls beside it. One bowl already had some stew in it and a ceramic spoon.
"No, I got distracted with something and forgot." Which was the truth.
Turning towards the table, Watari cocked his head to the side, studying the contents of the tureen.
A traditional stew from the region. It was fragrant and well seasoned. Muraki picked up his own bowl and nodded to the other. "Help yourself. The cooking from Oryia's kitchen is excellent. It *is* a restaurant, you know," he said, with a slight smile. It was also something else, but the restaurant was legitimate and had a fine reputation.
Leaving Watari to do as he liked, Muraki returned to the armchair he'd used the previous night and continued his interrupted meal.
After a moment's hesitation, Watari moved to the table and took one of the bowls. He took a very small portion of the stew but as evidenced by his lean frame, this was probably a normal eating habit.
Looking around, he retreated to the rocking chair he had sat in the night before, scooting it a little closer to the fire and crossing one leg over the other, cradling the bowl in one palm while neatly nibbling the soup.
After a couple of bites, he nodded, "It is excellent." His amber eyes peeked up over the rims of his glasses and he grinned slightly at Muraki. "Your friend keeps both sides of his business in excellent repair."
Muraki raised an eyebrow. "I can hardly believe you've actually sampled the other half."
Watari politely finished his mouthful of stew before lowering his spoon into the bowl and sitting back in the rocker, setting it to motion. Soft laughter, warm, almost relaxed and soothing in its own way, echoed in the small room as he shook his head.
"Ah, no. However, when I was busy tracking you down the last time, I had occasion to speak to someone who is a bit of a regular and I think the man..." Watari coughed gently, "well I believe he was having quite fond memories of the place even as he directed me."
Muraki inclined his head. "Isn't it ironic? Such a business must operate incognito, yet it has doubtless given many of its patrons some of their fondest, or at least most vivid, memories." He tilted his head. "You might find a stroll through its halls in your intangible form educational. Or perhaps not. You didn't seem particularly unfamiliar with most of our games thus far."
The young shinigami finished his stew and stood up to carry the bowl back to the table, setting it by the tureen. Using a napkin to delicately pat at his lips, he walked back to the rocking chair and sat back down, setting the chair to rocking slowly but firmly, back and forth.
"I died in 1978 and spent most of my *adulthood* cheerfully enjoying what that time had to offer. After all, I didn't have much to loose," he said, with a wry twist to his mouth. Then his expression sobered and he set a toe to the ground to help keep the chair in motion. "I imagine that while I would discover a wide variety of carnal acts in process, I would also find other, less... obvious forms of exchanges going on. I know that it is often said that 'you go to a prostitute for sex' yet I find it interesting to note that often the greatest sources of the most sensitive information are the madams and the woman who provide these services."
Muraki smiled. "Not to mention the masters and the men who also provide... services. It is said that whatever a patron wants can be obtained, with the right fee. Some of the more unusual requests are quite amusing. But I doubt you came here to discuss such things. So how would you like to spend your time?"
Watari nodded and his lips twitched at the idea of what some of those requests might be but he left it alone. Instead, slowly the relaxed expression on his face seemed to fade away. His eyes became shuttered behind heavy lids and he watched Muraki as he rocked slowly back and forth.
"Very well. Why? Why have my superiors not sent us after you, specifically."
"Anything I suggest would be only a guess," Muraki said. "But I dare say it would probably be a reasonably accurate one. They have not, and will not, because while we serve different purposes, we have, essentially the same master."
Pale gold brows furrowed together thoughtfully and Watari was quiet, obviously incorporating Muraki's words in with other pieces of the puzzle, trying to see where it might fit.
"Enma Daioh?"
Muraki shrugged. "I wasn't given a name, but I recognize the scent. It was no lesser god or demon, though it acted through one."
Gaze sliding towards the fire, Watari rocked rhythmically in the chair, letting the motion soothe his natural urge to pace.
"Enma Daioh plays deep." He said it as if he had encountered something in his own experiences which supported Muraki's words independently of anything else.
Eyes coming back to Muraki, the thoughtful frown was still in between Watari's brows. "What purposes do we serve, you and I?"
Muraki shrugged. "You work for the front office," he said, his lip curling slightly. "You uphold all that is good and... the rest of the litany. I dare say I am kept for two reasons. One is simply to thin the herd."
Watari blinked and then he frowned. "To thin the herd? How does your taking of mortal life, 'thin the herd'? The souls come back to us regardless." Something in the young shinigami's voice kept the words from being a direct attack on Muraki and instead a puzzling on *why*?
The rocking could no longer contain him and the blond came to his feet, pacing towards the fire and laying his arm along the mantle, fidgeting with his glasses.
"All that murder accomplishes from our side... is to create unrestful spirits. Where is the gain in that?" Watari could have been asking the question of Muraki, or he could have just been puzzling out loud.
The doctor laughed. "Where do unrestful spirits go? Perchance a few to work for the offices in the Meifu?"
Watari moved slowly, as if trying to shift through molasses, away from the mantle and began to openly pace in the small room.
"I suppose that it is idealistic to want to imagine a time when our offices would not be necessary." It sounded like he was talking just to say something, in truth his mind was leap-frogging ahead and in a dangerous direction.
"I neither know nor care," Muraki said, his voice the same calm tone he had been using all evening. "If you tell anyone you know, they will say I am lying."
Watari turned towards Muraki and stared at the doctor for a long time, his expression unreadable. Moving away from the far wall where he'd paced to, he moved back to the rocker and leaned against it.
"There is a theory that at any given moment there is only one split millisecond of time when something is pure, or absolute and after that millisecond of time passes, entropy takes over and degradation begins to start. Take a mortal life for instance. There is only one brief moment when we are *alive* in the absolute sense of the word, after that moment, all mortals are dying."
Taking a breath, he moved back on towards the mantel. "The concepts of Good and Evil suffer under this same principal. Perhaps only for one millisecond can one truly exist without the other. They are forever cycling, or balancing with each other. Ever at war with each other, and while each dreams of triumph over the other... were such a thing possible then it can be reasoned that both would cease to exist."
Watari reached up and rubbed at his forehead with his fingers the way one does when plagued by a headache.
"Constantly at war with each other..." Watari spoke softly, almost as if Muraki were no longer in the room. "Who... what front is Enma battling upon?"
Muraki chuckled. "Say rather that he pits his subordinates against each other, to keep them all from becoming too independent and challenging his power."
Resting his elbow on the mantel, his cheek against his folded knuckles, Watari looked over at Muraki and his lips twitched slightly.
"I'd rather not get flattened by a stray lightening bolt." Pausing, one long finger reaching up to brush over his lips, Watari's amber eyes danced around the room. "Enma... is not the only power on his level. There are others."
"You chose to come here," the doctor returned in the same tone. "One might almost say it is my job to draw the lightning to you. And I suppose you are correct. I'm not here to convince you. I've puzzled over the connection myself. I truly expected to be stopped... until a simple realization occurred to me. Once I considered it, a great many questions suddenly had a simple answer."
Watari covered his mouth with his fingers and looked to Muraki's face, his pale brows lifted in silent query, requesting the doctor continue.
"Enma fears Tsuzuki."
There was a long, long moment of silence as Watari absorbed those three words. Slowly his hand fell away from his mouth and he turned, bracing his hands on the mantel and stretching his body back so he could look down at the fire.
"Hisoka." He breathed the name softly. "The Kid... more than any partner before, even Tatsumi, Hisoka holds the ability to complete Tsuzuki's soul... to soothe Tsuzuki's guilt."
Watari's head turned slowly and he looked at Muraki. "'Guilt is the leash Enma Daioh selects his shinigami for.' If Tsuzuki's guilt is eased, that leash is weakened."
Muraki simply looked back, the faintest of smiles on his face but more like it was left there and he didn't care enough to shift expression.
Then he said, "The boy's leash is his hate."
One corner of Watari's lips turned up but the smile seemed more sad than anything. "The hate he harbors for you."
The artificial eye seemed to glimmer behind his silver hair. "The flavor of his hate is pleasant, but it does get tiresome over time."
The young shinigami chewed on his next words closely before speaking them very cautiously.
"Particularly, I would imagine, when you were... instructed to instill it on the boy?"
"You continue to try and find a reason for that," Muraki said. "I assume because it is the one crime among many that you feel... guilty about forgiving? Or accepting... or whatever it is that you are doing when you are with me." He shook his head. "One does not instruct a beast of prey what to do or how to do it."
Watari stood by the mantel for a half a minute, then he moved back to the rocking chair and sat back down, heavily this time, setting it immediately to motion.
"Understanding." He spoke the word, letting it hang for a moment before continuing. "That's what I'm doing when I'm with you. Trying to understand."
Muraki smiled. "An admirable goal for a scientist. We really do have something fundamental in common."
The young shinigami chuckled gently. "Yes, perhaps. Except I used to believe myself good at this. Yet... *this*... for every question answered, five more open up. It's like walking into a nest of barbed wire and having it curl shut behind me."
"That is... a rather lovely image," the doctor said.
Rocking gently, Watari's lips curled in a smile devoid of any warmth. "Tell me... is that what excites you about me? The scent of my immortal blood in the air as I begin to fight this trap?"
"In part," Muraki said. "But more than that, it is the scent of your mind, as you begin to perceive it. I think I like the way your eyes... stopped looking away."
"Stopped looking away?" Watari asked softly, the rocker still moving back and forth at an unhurried pace, one slender hand held out towards the fire, the other, elbow braced on the arm of the rocker, fingers curled, provided a rest for the blond's chin as he watched Muraki.
Muraki rose from his armchair and crossed the space between them. He bent over Watari and tilted his head up with the fingers of one hand. Then he looked down into Watari's eyes for a long moment.
Slowly, he leaned closer and kissed the shinigami's lips.
Part of Watari's mind chuffed softly. He should not make it so easy... but... for some reason kissing Muraki was becoming easier, natural. There was a brief moment where Watari didn't seem to respond but it was gone quickly as his lips softened and parted invitingly beneath Muraki's kiss.
The hand, which had been stretched out towards the fire, slowly rose and heat warmed fingers curled lightly around the back of Muraki's neck, spearing gently through soft silver-hair.
The kiss was slow, deep, and Watari had a distinct sense of being appreciated.
Muraki leaned back just as slowly, not far enough to pull Watari's hand out of his hair. "You don't look away."
As Muraki drew back that slight distance, Watari's eyes opened to study the doctor's face. His amber eyes were deeply troubled, but how could they honestly be anything else? Yet there was a distinct softening to his fine features. Leaving the one hand curled in Muraki's hair, Watari reached with his other and almost tentatively traced a finger along the doctor's sensual lower lip.
"How lonely has it been for you?" He whispered the question, fingers still delicately tracing Muraki's face.
Muraki's eyes closed and a slight ripple of tension seemed to run under his skin. "What makes you think I am ever alone?" he said, the faintest touch of macabre humor tingeing his voice. His eyes opened. Then he turned his face into the light touch.
The young shinigami's lips lifted in a smile that was as much acknowledgement as anything. "I've found there can be a world of difference between *alone* and *lonely*," he answered, his soft voice nearly drowned out by a particularly explosive pop from the fire.
As Muraki turned into the light touch, Watari watched the face he stroked tenderly, content it seemed to sit there and do both.
After a moment, Muraki straightened. He reached out and threaded his fingers briefly through Watari's golden mane. Then he stepped back, and walked to the door that the shinigami knew led to the bedroom. He paused for a moment in the doorway, glancing back, and then went inside.
For almost a minute, the blond scientist was still. Half that time, he stared at the door through which Muraki had disappeared, but then he turned and stared down into the flames of the fire. As that minute passed, Watari rocked forward and slowly came to his feet. Checking the fire screen on the hearth, he walked in an unhurried manner towards the door, towards the room and towards Muraki.
TBC