28-Sept-2003

Title: The Doll
Authors: bonnejeanne and Laekin
Series: We hope. :D
Fandom: Yami no Matsuei
Archived at: Love and Gundams and Katcom: http://katcom.squidkitty.org/
Pairings: Muraki x Watari, Tatsumi + Watari.
Genre: Drama, Dark Angst, Psychological mindgames.
Summary: To protect Tatsumi's soul in an impossible situation, Watari pits the devil they know against the devil they must destroy but places his own body, mind and soul on the line.
Rating: NC-17 for graphic violence, adult situations and graphic m/m sexual content, with bondage and kink.
Spoilers: For the manga, the current arc with Hisoka's father.
Disclaimer: These characters are not ours. We seek no money from this endeavor just having a bit of fun in the sandbox.
Feedback: Always adored and it keeps the magic bus running. 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, myself with Watari and the two of us split the duty on Tatsumi and the other characters.

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: 1) Any and all medical references are not intended to be taken seriously. 2) If you hated Muraki before reading this, don't waste my time by telling me you still hate him. Thanks.

The Doll

Watari often wondered if he was insane.

Usually he didn't really worry about how his actions were perceived by the rest of the division, in fact most of the time he embraced his eccentric reputation. It helped him perform his job and also kept his perspective about that job clear most of the time. There was nothing easy about being a shinigami and sometimes the job could be even more 'difficult' than usual.

Taking the current situation as a prime example of when the job became next to impossible, Watari let his practical mind roll through the facts of the case. He and Tatsumi had been dispatched to investigate Rui Kurosaki, Hisoka's mother. They had entered the Kurosaki compound over three months ago and it seemed like they had stepped into a different world. A world designed to test them both to the utmost of their skills.

The case, so simple on paper, had become wickedly complex and confusing. Go and investigate a supernatural pregnancy. Any pregnancy that lasted for going on two years could not be deemed normal by any stretch of the imagination. It had seemed such a straightforward investigation, except at each turn they learned more and more distressing facts, not only about the supernatural elements at play but also the mortal elements.

The family history of infanticide, the threat from Iwao-sama, the elder brother, filled with so much hatred for his brother Nagare. The way the villagers themselves used the Kurosaki family as a sacrifice to protect the village from the supernatural threat of the demon Yatonogami.

And then there was Yatonogami himself. Though vanquished so long ago by Ren Kurosaki, the devil still lurked within the very blood of the Kurosaki clan, a curse placed upon the family for their audacity at attempting to kill a god. A curse that was slowly killing Nagare and would have moved to Hisoka had the boy continued to live.

Watari was hard pressed to decide which was more twisted. But as time wore on, what had come to distress him the most was not the bloody family history of the Kurosaki, nor the demonic presence of Yatonogami. What had become of greatest concern to Yutaka Watari was the emotional attachment he watched his partner, Seiichirou Tatsumi beginning to form with the mortals they were investigating.

Though Tatsumi guarded his heart closely from view, Watari was well aware that when the Kagetsukai took someone, or someones, into his affections he would guard and protect that individual to the limits of his ability.

To the limits and beyond.

Watari had spent nearly three decades watching the man ruthlessly flagellate himself beneath the whip of responsibility. The young shinigami wasn't certain he could stand by and observe Tatsumi take on yet another burden that would only end up crushing the already over-weighted soul of the elder guardian. Despite Tatsumi's assertion to the contrary, he could not shoulder responsibility for the world and Watari wasn't going to stand by and watch him destroy himself in the attempt.

So, he was taking action, drastic, radical action. Action that was perhaps the most foolish he had ever contemplated. Watari had spent over a week weighing his options, trying to see clearly through the maze they had been thrust within and he'd been able to follow only one clear thread of logic.

Yatonogami had to be destroyed.

But, how do you destroy the devil? That question had no easy answer. At least, it had no easy answer at first. Watari's ruthlessly practical mind had worked on a number of theories but the only sound answer to the question was a bloody one and one that Watari was certain his partner would never be able to accept. Even if Tatsumi did follow Watari's suggestion, doing so... agreeing to such actions would destroy something in Tatsumi's already fragile sense of self and Watari simply could not risk his dear friend.

So, there had to be another way, another answer. A day's thought a day's deep contemplation had slowly begun to supply the answer, an answer that was almost more terrible than the question but an answer all the same.

Pit the devil you know against the devil you don't.

Kuzataka Muraki.

It seemed such a remarkably simple solution. So simply it made Watari feel an ache of unease deep within his chest. His mind had bounced away from this particular answer, time and again. Unwilling to face the implications of what he was considering, Watari had refused to entertain the idea of inviting the psychopath into the case, hell of inviting the psychopath into the house of the very young man he'd murdered. Figuring the idea over and done with, Watari had tried to come up with another solution. But as the days rolled past, he'd watched Tatsumi's shoulders begin to bow beneath the weight of stumbling block after stumbling block. As he'd watched his proud partner's head hang more and more often in an attitude of defeat, when Tatsumi thought he wasn't being watched, Watari had come back to the impossible fix to the impossible situation they were faced with.

However, putting Muraki back on the chessboard of their lives was a risky proposition and Watari had to wonder about his decision. Had to wonder about his own sanity that he could come up with such a solution and entertain its implimentation.

"Well... too late to go back now." The blond scientist spoke to himself as he stood outside the small chapel. The same chapel he and Tatsumi had fled atop in order to escape the mob sent to kill them. It was late, well after midnight and Tatsumi was asleep. Watari had left 003 watching his partner, figuring that if Tatsumi woke up and noticed him missing but saw 003 he'd just figure Watari was doing some late night reading.

"Reading of my mental instability maybe," Watari muttered humorlessly, lowering his head and moving towards the chapel's steps. Loosened, his long honey blonde hair swept across his features, obscuring them from view. Dressed in a black turtleneck, tucked into black wool slacks, his coat flipped about his ankles as he mounted the steps.

Decision made, he'd used his connection to Mother to pinpoint Muraki's location. With that information it had been... dangerously easy to get a message to the doctor, requesting the meeting.

Dangerously easy.

"I must be out of my mind."

The chapel was dark. The exception being a lone candle burnt down so low as to be near guttering on the altar. The large room appeared otherwise to be empty, though it was actual impossible to tell given the depth and predominance of the shadows.

Reading spiritual energy was not one of Watari's strong points. He had to concentrate on it, unlike Tatsumi or Tsuzuki who could call it up as natural as breathing. Standing in the doorway, hands still tucked into the pockets of his coat, he tilted his head and began a thorough investigation of the shadows. Careful, for the time being, to keep the exit to his back.

Amber eyes narrowing slightly the Guardian took a deep breath before calling out in a calm, composed voice.

"Muraki-Sensei?"

A low, rich chuckle answer him and a ghostly white figure stepped out of the shadows behind the altar, white trench coat flaring around him like a living thing as he stepped around that structure to take center stage. "And how shall I address you, shinigami? And do you plan to stay in the doorway where you can bolt and run if I say... Boo!"

One gold eyebrow quirked upwards at the doctor's tone of address but Watari was careful not to let any expression beyond polite civility show on his face. Though he had never met Muraki face to face, Watari had heard and read plenty about the doctor. He knew that Muraki was a master at manipulating emotions. Muraki could wind Tsuzuki up faster than the elder Shinigami's worst guilt and Watari tried not to think about what Muraki did to Tatsumi's blood pressure. Watari figured the first key to dealing with Muraki was going to be to keep his composure.

Which translated into no smart-ass retorts. At least, for the moment.

Striding calmly on into the chapel walking midway down the center aisle towards the altar, Watari stopped and gave Muraki a polite bow equal to equal.

"While I have been out of the world for a few years I believe Watari-Sensei would not be amiss."

In truth it had been years... decades, since Watari used the PhD doctorate in front of his surname but he was not about to give Muraki any advantage, if he could help it.

"Very pretty," Muraki said wryly. "But you'll forgive me if I distrust an accord of respect from a dead bureaucrat. Let's leave it at names and dispel the fiction of cordiality, shall we? I'm only here out of curiosity. The most obvious likelihood is that this is a ruse to allow you to attempt to entrap and kill me. Only its obviousness gives any indication of doubt. I'd advise you not to trifle with me. Tell me what you want."

Coming out of his bow, Watari's amber eyes flashed a dangerous gold for a split second from beneath the cover of his lashes. So, the game begins. Very well, Doctor.

Straightening to his full height, aware that Muraki still had a couple of inches on him, Watari shook his hands free of his pockets and began a slow, deliberate stalk on towards the altar. As soon as he cleared the confines of the pews he broke to the left and began to work around towards Muraki's flank.

"Tsk, Sensei. All I have heard about you led me to believe you were a man of impeccable breeding and good manners. Yet, here you are acting quite defensive when I have given you no reason to feel so. However, I am in a generous mood and as such shall overlook your bad humor. It is late after all."

Moving with lithe grace, Watari broke from Muraki's left and began to re-pace the half circle towards Muraki's right. As he walked he let his eyes rake across the doctor's pale form, taking in the trench coat, the powerful body, the soft, platinum blonde hair. Yes, the good doctor still looked much like the picture he'd last seen of the man, yet Watari continued his inspection, the way one might size up an item one was thinking of purchasing.

"Hmm... oh! I'm sorry, do forgive me, Sensei, I have left your question hanging." Watari tapped his temple with his fingers. "Mind goes after the first couple of decades. I am here to offer you a chance to possibly get something you want."

Muraki watched Watari's choreography with a barely lifted eyebrow. The chiding comment rolled off him like water off a snake. If the other man thought he had the kind of pride that could be pricked with words, it was his loss. He never forgot that the shinigami wanted him dead. Self-preservation was something at which he excelled.

"You should have drawn your circle before you summoned me," he said, a shark-like smile curving his attractive lips. "You're wasting my time. A 'chance of possibly' getting something I want? Such chances exist without your help or intervention. Please dispense with the coyness. Tell me what *you* want," his voice didn't rise at all but somehow it seemed to gain power with the last five words. "I'll decide if I feel like bargaining and I will name the price."

Amusement flared in Watari's eyes, an amusement that wasn't all together...kind. There was a part of Watari's mind, a part of his nature that was always close to the surface, though usually very well guarded. Something about Muraki brought that personality quirk a little closer to the fore and Watari felt slightly intoxicated as he sipped cautiously from it.

Turning away from the front of the chapel, the scientist roamed to the first row of pews. Giving his coat a twitch to get it out of the way he threw himself down onto the bench adopting a negligent lean against the pew back. One arm along the scarred wood, lean fingers drumming thoughtfully, he smiled... with open amusement this time.

"You. I want you."

"I see," the doctor's wry tone was a match for Watari's dark amusement. "In that case, take off your coat and come here," the smile seemed to sharpen, even as a stray wind seemed to move through the chapel, stirring Watari's hair and clothes.

Watari couldn't deny that there was a part of him, which felt a serious compulsion to do just what Muraki ordered. Yes, there was a part of him that was very curious to follow the doctor's orders, however he squished that little voice ruthlessly and instead threw his head back and laughed.

Clearing his throat, Watari gave his head a slight shake and crossed one long leg over the opposite knee, a certain fire bright in his gold eyes. It was an interesting contrast to Muraki's icy calm.

"Sensei, I rarely listen to the orders from my superiors. If I start following orders at this late date, it will ruin my reputation."

"But you don't really consider me superior to you, isn't that right? In fact, I think I detect a distinct aura of... slumming." Muraki shrugged. "I'm getting bored."

Watari narrowed his eyes slightly, a thoughtful expression, then he sat forward uncrossing his legs and laying his arms along his thighs tilting his head to study the taller man.

"I... your assistance with a case I am working on would be beneficial to both myself and the case. Your unique talents, let us just say I have a use for them. And, perhaps you might find this case titillating because I have reason to believe that the demon I am up against, manipulated you... quite a few years ago."

"Better," Muraki said, his tone one of a master according a difficult pupil a brief approval. "I suppose you think that this thing I want which will induce me to give you my assistance is the opportunity to best an old enemy?"

Inwardly, Watari twitched a brow at the tone, bridling a bit. Outwardly, he didn't allow it to effect his expression. Instead, a curious little smile made his lips twitch. Standing, full of his usual restless energy, he began to pace back and forth in front of the aisle.

"Oh, now, Sensei. I would not insult you by offering such a paltry reward for your time. No, the opportunity to best an old enemy is only... shall we say a guiding motivation."

Pausing, the shinigami turned. One hand tucked into the pocket of his tailored slacks, pushing his coat back away from his slender hips.

"No. The... chip I hold out, in exchange for you assistance, your focused assistance... is something I believe you've desired for most of your adult life. The chance to animate and kill your brother."

Muraki stilled to the mobility of a statue. For all of ten seconds. "Not enough," he said, and then smiled. "Give my regards to Tsuzuki. And to that annoying boy."

Watari's lips twitched. A part of him had thought to anticipate this game, though he honestly had not expected it to become an issue. However, it would appear it had. Remaining still, he gave only his head motion in a slight nod.

"Very well, I'll be curious. What would you deem proper payment?"

The comment about Tsuzuki and Hisoka was firmly set out of Watari's mind. He would not allow Muraki to get under his skin by using his friends.

Muraki paused, in the act of turning away. He looked at Watari. His eyes, one obscured by his platinum hair, roamed with cataloging precision from the sunny crown of Watari's hair to the tips of his boots.

"You, I think," the doctor said. "Make your tasteless joke of earlier a reality. That would be enough, possibly, to hold my attention for a little while. Perhaps long enough to accomplish what you desire."

Despite being well aware of Muraki's penchant for engaging in sexual harassment, Watari had not honestly expected such a request and perhaps the surprise showed on his fine features for a split second before he exerted control over himself.

Stupid Yutaka. You forgot that Muraki wields sex like a power play. Bad, bad thing to forget! Watari mentally chastised himself, even as he considered his position.

Locking his eyes on Muraki's form, returning the head to toe regard, Watari's quick mind raced along his options. He could, of course, let Muraki walk out and find another way to approach the problem. He could let Muraki walk and go to Tatsumi and see if he could bring his partner's focus back to the case.

It will kill something in Seiichirou if he tries to distance himself now. The Kurosaki family is in his heart...I can't let him be hurt. I promised myself I'd protect him... my best bet is the devil I summoned. You did this, Yutaka... you can't back out now.

Lifting his chin, Watari smiled darkly. He recognized that his position at least, was a little more unique than Tsuzuki or Hisoka. He was not as emotionally fragile as Tsuzuki, nor as vulnerable as the young mortal Hisoka had been.

"Hmm... you propose an interesting experiment indeed, Sensei." Watari tilted his head to stare up at the ancient beams of the chapel. "An interesting experiment indeed."

Lifting one slender finger to his chin to tap at his lips thoughtfully, the gesture covering the butterflies Watari suddenly felt in his gut, the scientist seemed to ponder his answer for a few minutes before turning too look Muraki directly in the eyes.

"I accept."

Muraki's eyes glittered in what could be described as nothing less than predatory pleasure. "You have a deal." The doctor's hand lifted, and he summoned Watari to him with a finger.

Disobedience flashed across Watari's face even as he forced his legs to carry him forward. You did this to yourself. Gah! Yes, but that doesn't mean I have to make it easy.

Though the scientist moved to stand within arms reach of Muraki the tilt of his head, the expression in his eyes and on his face his entire body language was challenging. He might have obeyed the order but there was nothing submissive in the rest of his manner. Watari carefully began to distance his mind from his emotions preparing to engage Muraki in a game where he would be foolish not to recognize the doctor's superior skill.

The small distance, the symbol of his defiance, swirled with another small gust of wind, tugging at his clothes and lifting his hair like caressing fingers.

Muraki didn't take a step to close the distance. Rather, Watari felt the wind at his back, almost solidly tangible, push him forward, rocking him off balance. A pair of strong arms caught him against a broad chest before he could fall, and the candle behind them guttered and went out, leaving the chapel in darkness.

"I've always wondered at the presumption of a god or devil who unerringly chooses pretty shinigami," the doctor's low voice purred in Watari's ear. Lips ghosted along in the wake of the words and then strong teeth closed on his earlobe, followed by the warm wet touch of tongue.

The wind against his back was a solid reminder that Muraki was not without his own supernatural abilities. Watari stumbled forward, half expecting to be left to fall on his face, startled when instead he was caught and fetched up against the warm, powerful body.

Taking an automatic step forward to get his own balance back he froze, eyes closed as sensations alternating from revulsion, to pain, to pleasure raced through his body. As he had little hope of quelling the sensual shiver that raced through his slender muscles, he let the small display of reaction pass on to Muraki. In fact, he took another step forward getting his feet solidly under him and also pressing his body full length against the doctor.

His head now level with Muraki's shoulder, Watari turned his face letting his lips brush past the soft, platinum blonde hair. Pressing close enough that his warm, moist breath could tickle the taller man's pale ear the blond shinigami laced his tone with a mixture of amusement, curiosity and perhaps even excitement.

"Funny, I've wondered a few things myself. Tell me, Sensei, what was it like... that first meeting with the half brother your father sired on a patient mere hours after your own conception?"

"It was painful," Muraki answered, reaching up to thread his fingers through Watari's golden locks. "Does that please you? I felt shock, then terror, then, for a few brief seconds the breathless possibility that I might have a... a friend, a companion of my own age who could understand my feelings. Then I looked into his eyes and saw something I was hardly equipped to understand. A malevolent evil, a desire to take and a hate that was beyond my comprehension." A soft, amused laugh tickled the skin of Watari's neck. "It was pretty much downhill from there. Curiosity satisfied?"

Amazing. How was it, Watari wondered, that he found himself echoing the small, pained chuckle when Muraki said, it was pretty much downhill from there? How was it that he could feel the way the realization of the reality of the situation with Saki could have hurt the child Muraki had been?

Get a grip, Taka. You're feeling *emotions* for a devil. Keep your focus on the game. Still, though he ruthlessly shuffled the information and the emotions away from the surface of his mind, they didn't disappear entirely. Rather they began to mesh and meld with the rest of what he knew about the doctor.

Shifting, in a side to side motion that allowed him to brush back and forth against Muraki's body, Watari answered the doctor's question.

"Mm... for the moment."

"Good. I don't mind sharing these little things with you since they don't matter," Muraki murmured, licking Watari's neck. "And since we are going to be spending some time together." His fingers closed, fisting around Watari's hair, pulling his head back slowly, almost gently. His tongue feathered around to the other side of the shinigami's neck. "What is your given name?"

Watari's lips twitched upwards at Muraki's first words.

Don't they Sensei? Don't they matter? It would appear to me that they matter quite a bit, but perhaps now is not the time to debate such... mmmm no. Now is not the time at all. Watari thought to himself as his head was drawn back.

A part of the blond shinigami waited for the strike, for the pain. He knew that the very waiting itself was a form of torture and forced himself to release his expectation. Relaxing the muscles of his neck and upper back, allowing his head and body to follow Muraki's guidance for the moment. With his balance shifted by the hold the doctor had on his hair, Watari finally moved his hands reaching up to close the fingers of one hand around Muraki's hip to steady himself the other curling around the wrist close to where Muraki held his hair.

Though he wished his had a little more control over his response to the feather like touches of the older man's tongue against his throat, Watari couldn't dispel another shudder of pleasure. Trying to bring his mind back to the game at hand, Watari made himself concentrate on the implications of giving Muraki his name. It was to give Muraki knowledge, which was dangerous. Knowledge was the only advantage that Watari possibly had at the moment. A name... a name... such a simple thing... such a powerful thing... Watari laughed deep in his chest as he felt his fatalistic nature dance along the edges of his conscious mind.

"Yutaka."

Pressed against the doctor as he was, Watari could feel the man's chest move with a pleased chuckle. "Yutaka-kun," he murmured. "It suits you. And you seem to have no shyness about accepting an embrace from someone of the same gender. Were you a homosexual in life?" The question might have been idle, if anything Muraki did could be that. He licked along Watari's jawline to the opposite ear and nibbled that earlobe. The hand not holding Watari's hair slid under the shinigami's coat and pressed against the small of his back, slowly sliding down to cup the curves of his ass.

The scientist's lips twitched at the Yutaka-kun. It had been nearly half a century since he'd last been addressed in such a fashion. A part of him knew he should protest against the -kun, especially from Muraki, but to react to the doctor's words in protest was to show the doctor a weakness, and Watari was trying to keep from giving away no more than he had to.

Words could be countered with words. Watari didn't feel the need to engage Muraki in a direct confrontation over his name. Instead, he concentrated on the latter words, ignoring how good Muraki's hand felt against the small of his back.

Yutaka... you need to get out of the lab more. You're responding to a man who you know to be dangerous... what the hell is wrong with you?

He did, at least, maintain enough of his wits to recognize the skillful way Muraki wove both inflammatory remarks in with remarks designed to get Watari to betray more about himself. Chuckling, softly, he shook his head from side to side within the hold of Muraki's hand.

"From your file, it somewhat surprises me to find your own interest in your own gender. Now, Tsuzuki... that I suppose I can understand. You desired Tsuzuki's body for a number of reasons and we won't discuss his mind. But you were engaged, Sensei. What did happen to that woman who would have been your wife?"

"I've forgotten," Muraki replied, not bothering to make it sound truthful. "The answer is simple. Most women are too easy to terrorize."

His hand squeezed the fullness of Watari's curves. With their bodies pressed together, Watari could feel something firm and hard pressing into him below the waist. "It's not gender that interests me. It's sex. Because sex is about wanting and taking."

Watari could hear the lie in Muraki's words and it caused Watari's eyebrows to arch a little over heavy lidded eyes. He considered calling Muraki on the lie but let it go. While the honest answer could have been enlightening, the fact that Muraki refused to answer was information of its own.

Watari felt his own lashes brush against the sensitive skin below his eyes as he closed them and took a moment to catalogue everything he felt. Muraki's, warm skin and strong wrist, the soft wool that encased the man's angular hip, the feel of the taller man's hardness against his own hip. The last surprised Watari a little as he couldn't be entirely sure what it was about him that might be turning Muraki on.

What a strange unknown to the game? How odd. Watari thought to himself. Despite his sudden trepidation, the scientist firmly reminded himself. The game. I need to play the game. This is important. This case is important, to Tatsumi, to Hisoka and to Tsuzuki.

Releasing his hold on Muraki's wrist, Watari began to lightly trail his fingers up along the other man's arms, staying to the skin for as long as he could before moving his hand along the fabric of the white trench coat the doctor was wearing.

"You know, I'd always believed that sex was about wanting and sharing." Sliding one leg in between Muraki's thighs, Watari emphasized his point by locking the warm hollow of his hip across the taller man's erection, trapping it between the warmth of their bodies. Then he rocked his lower body in a deft movement designed and executed to exert deliciously pleasurable friction against the clothed manhood.

Muraki lifted his head from the oral exploration of Watari's neck and face. He was smiling. "Perhaps you'll change your mind," he said, openly enjoying the subtle dance Watari was doing against him. Then he bent and kissed Watari on the lips. Unhurriedly, taking time to taste the surface before coaxing his mouth open to explore the interior. The hand in Watari's hair shifted to cradle the back of his head, supporting it and also holding it in place.

I am playing with fire. Was the only thought that Watari could focus on for a moment. Of course he'd had a response on his lips for Muraki's words. Something to the effect that it might all come down to who played the game to win, but his words were cut off when Muraki's lips caressed his own.

They're warm. Was the first coherent thought Watari had after Muraki began to kiss him. Huh. He parted his lips, granting Muraki's tongue entrance into his mouth. Waiting until the taller man began his exploration before darting his own tongue deep into Muraki's mouth using the tip to tickle along the roof of the doctor's mouth before moving on to tease along sensitive spots in the man's mouth.

The hand he had on Muraki's hip finally moved. Sliding around to the doctor's back, Watari splayed his fingers so that the tips of his index and middle finger played along the curve and crack of Muraki's ass, encased in the white trousers, his thumb kneading against the small of the taller man's back.

Muraki accepted Watari's tongue, rocked a little in answer to the touch of his hand. And the kiss deepened... deepened... the heat rose and rose. It was as if Muraki could sense not just Watari's conscious reactions, the responses he chose to give, but also the ones that went deeper, the ones that surprised even Watari; could sense them, and had begun making them his allies. It wasn't like being hit by a sudden storm. It was like being slowly sucked into quicksand.

And just as unhurriedly, Muraki lifted his head, licked his lips, and smiled as he released the shinigami from his embrace. "Your accountant partner needs you," he said, his voice low and amused. "I'll come tomorrow night. Be ready with everything you know about the case."

He should not have been caught off guard by the tactic. It was a classic one but it still took Watari a beat to get his mind wrapped around what Muraki was doing. It was a beat that he recovered, quickly even if his body was still humming with needs he hadn't explored in many, many years.

Stepping back from the embrace, Watari's lips twitched in silent acknowledgment of what Muraki had just done. It would do no good to try to deny it. The scientist knew his amber eyes had darkened down to a deep burnished gold color, keen indicators of his response to the doctor.

Tilting his head towards one of the small windows in the chapel, Watari tried to get an idea of what time it was... he'd lost track. Not that he was ever that good at keeping track of time! He looked back at Muraki, curious as to why the man would say Tatsumi needed him but letting it go for the moment.

"Back here then. Tomorrow evening. I will bring the information we know so far." Ah, not bad. His voice was only a little velvety.

"No," Muraki said. "Not back here. I will come to you. You have a room, the door closes. If you want my help, I will need to be there. I'm surprised you haven't said you want to keep my participation from the other shinigami," he commented, an odd glimmer coming from the eye half shielded by his hair.

Taking a step away from Muraki, Watari slid his hand into the back pocket of his slacks, shrugging lightly. "EnMaDaiOh's eyes are far seeing. There is nothing I can do without his knowledge. As he's not struck me down, or drawn me back to Meifu for even entertaining the thoughts I do about using you, something must hold his interest. As for the other Shinigami..." Watari's lips twitched. "This will not be the first time my actions have, displeasured them. However, I'm surprised you would want to risk running afoul of Tatsumi by coming to me. As I remember, his shadows put a hurting on you the last time you two tangled, and he... is as unsparing as ever I think you will find."

Muraki's smile could only be guessed in the darkness. "The King of Hell cares far less about his subordinates' actions, or their safety, than you seem to believe. As for the shadow-wielder, I'd welcome the opportunity to study his magic a second time. There was a bargaining chip you overlooked, but I'm satisfied with the deal. Wanting and taking... your wanting and my taking..." the chuckle trailed off into silence. Watari could not detect any other sign of the doctor's presence it appeared he had been left alone in the empty chapel.

Watari exhaled a deep breath and let a frown crease his features. Reaching up, he nudged his glasses up along his nose with a finger against the brim.

"I must be out of my mind." He repeated the words for what felt like the hundredth time since he'd first thought about Muraki. "Now... how in the name of Hades am I going to get Tatsumi out of the room."

Turning, rubbing his temple to soothe the sudden ache that had taken up residence behind his right eye, Watari headed towards the door of the chapel. He supposed he should be concerned about the way Muraki had just, vanished or the other bargaining chip... yes... that was curious indeed but at the moment he couldn't decide who worried him more.

Muraki, or Tatsumi.

Dawn was bathing the rural landscape in a soft gray light as Watari made his way back towards the Kurosaki compound. The thought that he could just teleport himself back to the room he shared with Tatsumi crossed his mind but he dismissed it. He felt the need to walk. To work off some of the restless energy that was coursing through his veins as a result of his encounter with the doctor.

As researchers often do he muttered to himself as he walked attempting to work his brain around the events at the chapel.

"How in the name of Meifu, did it not occur to you what that man might pull, and once he pulled it, what the hell were you thinking going along with it?" Watari flung his arms out to the side in a wild gesture as he berated himself.

"Okay... okay... let's think here. I might have misjudged just have badly he wants revenge on his brother... though... I mean... he's been pickling that head on a jar for well over two decades... this is not the act of some one who doesn't feel strongly about the subject."

Here Watari paused and stared at a small thrush hopping along the ground chasing a morning worm.

"Of course... this is not the act of someone in full control of his faculties... though... I must admit I do have to wonder how he's managed to sustain the head and brain function all this time. There must have been some degradation in the brain activity, right?"

The thrush ignored the ranting man and continued to chase his worm.

"I mean, without the benefit of day to day stimuli, eventually the brain would have to weaken in some areas... like a muscles atrophying from lack of use. I wonder if Muraki found a way to compensate for that lack..." Watari paused, blinked and them smacked his palm over his face, jamming his glasses painfully against the bridge of his nose.

"I can't believe I'm standing here pondering this."

Giving his head a shake, the young shinigami continued his brisk walk. He already had a long stride and keeping up with the slightly taller Tatsumi had only encouraged Watari's naturally quick pace.

"Well, no matter. How I came to be in this situation is not as bothersome as what I'm going to do with myself now that I'm here. I can't let myself get caught with my pants down again." Watari emphasized his point to himself by jabbing a finger in the air. He then paused in mid step and blinked.

"Okay... that was an unfortunate choice of wording." The scientist could feel a slight blush stain his cheeks.

Still once more, Watari turned his face up towards the lightening morning sky and exhaled a deep breath.

"By Enma... I responded to him. I was responding to his touch... his warmth...his kiss... what the hell is wrong with me? This man is a sociopath. He plays mind games for fun. He tortured the Kid... he tortured Tsuzuki. He uses people as if they were objects on a giant playground for him to toy with..."

Watari paused and then winced slightly.

"Mmm... I suppose I've been accused of the same behavior from time to time. But regardless... he has hurt people I care about and here I am agreeing to bed with him... or whatever we agreed to... in order to... help people I care about."

Watari let his words drift away on the morning breeze, tasting them in his mouth and in his mind and wincing.

"And also because I'm just arrogant enough to think I can come out on the winning side of this encounter. It's just my body I've bargained not my mind. I can live with bargaining my body it's not the first time. If it will help Seiichirou... if it will help Kurosaki-kun's family... I can do this... I can. Just...how did this game get so deep so fast?"

Reaching up the scientist pushed his slender hand through his thick gold hair, letting the soft threads run through his fingers. He shivered as he remembered the feel of Muraki fisting his hair, pulling his head back, kissing his throat.

"Damn it... damn me!"

Watari growled, yanking his hand out of his hair and moving forward once again. Firmly pushing his thoughts to the side for the time being, Watari shifted to spirit form as he came close to the compound, moving along the grounds and into the house in a stealthy manner designed not to upset the morning chores being performed by the household staff.

The young shinigami honestly believed that Muraki had just been playing with his head when he'd said that Tatsumi needed him. Using the convenient words to add an extra dig to the insult of pushing Watari away from the heated embrace. Watari had forced himself to ignore the words the same way he forced himself to take careful note of what Muraki had just done so as not to be caught flat-footed by the action again. So it was a bit of a shock for Watari when he shifted back to human form only to come nose to nose with his highly agitated partner.

"Where, have you been?" Tatsumi's voice was calm, firm and direct but his sapphire blue eyes were tense and his powerful body was thrumming with barely contain energy.

Watari blinked and took a step back. Then he plastered a bright smile on his face, "Oh, just out enjoying the morning air."

Now it was Tatsumi's turn to blink. "Morning air... Watari-san you hate mornings let alone morning air." Tatsumi turned and walked a few paces away. "You didn't go to sleep last night did you? I hope you weren't up burning our host's electricity."

Watari had long ago realized that much of Tatsumi's apparent penny-pinching ways was actually a response to emotional strain. The more chaotic his emotional life became the more intense Tatsumi would become, about things he could control. It was a defense mechanism, and rather then being upset by the scold, Watari focused on the emotional stress it indicated.

"No, Tatsumi I was not burning up Nagare-san's electrical bill. I had some things to sort out in my mind about the case so I took a walk."

It wasn't an out and out lie. He had been out on a walk, it had been about the case and he had been sorting something out. It just wasn't the whole truth.

Tatsumi was already up and dressed for the day. He was back to wearing his three-piece suits, and today he looked quite dapper in a suit of dark charcoal gray. A bright blue tie was matched with the sober color, setting off the older guardian's eyes and Watari felt a little flip somewhere in the corner of his mind where he'd locked away his more intense feelings for his partner.

Whoopsie, Watari thought to himself, firmly squashing the little tickle of enhanced awareness.

Tatsumi gave the knot of his tie one last adjustment and then moved to tidy up his bed pallet.

"I hope you have not left yourself too sleep sodden to be of use today Watari-san. I want you to stay with Nagare-san while I go down to the village and talk to the police. I know they keep insisting the doctor's death was an accident but I'm hoping that maybe someone will start talking if we keep pressing."

Leaning against the doorframe, Watari crossed his arms over his chest and watched his partner with an expression of fondness.

You are stressed over Nagare-san aren't you my friend? Look at you, Seiichirou... you're fluffing the pillows and I think that sheet has less wrinkles then when it came out from under the iron.

The brush of feathers and the shifting of air alerted Watari to 003's presence as the little owl alighted on his shoulder with a welcoming chirp. Reaching up to brush the owl's breast feathers with an absent finger, Watari wasn't quite prepared for the ear-splitting shriek she issued a second later.

"What the!?!" Tatsumi exclaimed, whipping his head around and bringing his hands up in a position to direct a shadow attack.

003 launched off Watari's shoulder, now hooting and chirping in a frantic, agitated manner. The scientist made a lunge for his owl, but the little bird easily dodged his outstretched hands and flew across the room to Tatsumi. Landing on Tatsumi's shoulder she crawled up towards the back of his neck and huddled against his soft, dark chestnut hair, shivering violently and chirping in a worried manner.

Watari froze. He knew that Tatsumi couldn't understand the little owl but he also knew that 003 was reacting to the scent of Muraki. He hadn't thought about it when he left the chapel but they had been so close. Watari's eyes flicked from 003 to Tatsumi's face and back, wondering how far Tatsumi would pursue the owl's curious behavior.

"Watari-san... what is wrong with your owl?" Tatsumi asked in measured tones, frozen in place by the strange sensation of the warm little bird tucked up against his neck.

"Er...I guess she's miffed at me about something." Again, Watari was desperate not to lie to his partner but he also wasn't quite ready to hit Tatsumi with the whole truth.

For a second, Tatsumi's blue eyes softened and his face looked sweetly boyish as he grinned. "Yes, I rather think she might be. Perhaps you should take her and see if you two can kiss and make up?"

Watari rolled his eyes at Tatsumi and approached, once again reaching for his owl. Just before his fingers could close around the little bird, she shrieked once again and scampered to the other side of Tatsumi's broad shoulders. The scientist quickly stepped back his amber eyes concerned, as he looked at his agitated little feathered friend.

Tatsumi frowned as well. Though intensely focused on the plight of the people living within the Kurosaki compound, he was not completely oblivious. Both Watari and now 003 were acting extremely strangely.

"Watari," Tatsumi's blue eyes searched his partner's face, "Yutaka?"

Watari was able to meet Tatsumi's eyes for only a count of two seconds, than he had to turn away, exploding into motion as he moved towards a closet where he kept his clothes.

"If it's all right with you, Tatsumi and I'm sure it is..." a bright smile was beamed over the scientist's shoulder, "I'll just grab myself a quick wash. It will help clear the cobwebs out of my head. If she's bothering you, just put her down by the computer. She'll be fine."

And then, in a whirlwind of cloth, blond hair and a sort of desperate energy... Watari disappeared into the small bathing area that sat just off their rooms.

Tatsumi stood there, confused and concerned. He reached up a large hand and gently rubbed his fingers across 003's soft wings, trying to sooth the trembling little creature now hiding against his neck. Something was definitely up with Watari. He was certain of it now.

The question was... what?

How time flies when you're having fun, Watari thought wryly to himself as he sat by Nagare's bedside.

Keeping his promise to Tatsumi in an attempt to give his partner whatever peace the older man would allow himself, Watari had stayed close to Nagare for much of the day. It chaffed him a little because it kept him from his computer and much needed research but he'd filled his time with trying to write out his thoughts. Of course, he did so much with the computer these days that long hand seemed positively alien and the scientist had eventually given up.

After a bath, in which he scrubbed himself from tip to toe, 003 had seemed to forgive him. The little owl had flown gingerly around him four or five times before finally alighting on his shoulder. As soon as his hair, richly scented with cedar wood and sage, brushed across her feathers she'd relaxed, though he knew she watched him with hints of reproach.

Just what I need, my owl and my partner pissed at me.

At the thought of his partner, Watari cast a quick glance towards the clock in the room. Tatsumi had been gone investigating most of the day. Watari knew Tatsumi had his own methods and liked to investigate on his own. Part of him wanted to be hurt by his partner's lack of trust in him but Watari recognized that it was just Tatsumi's way.

Besides, once he learns what I've gone and done, he'll never let me off my leash again... once he stops killing me for the umpteenth time.

Pushing to his feet the young shinigami walked towards a window. It was dusk out. The colorful sunset gone behind the mountains, leaving the landscape covered in gray light and shadows. His back to the doorway, Watari jumped a little when he heard the door slide open. Spinning around, the young shinigami exhaled a tense breath when he recognized the dark shadow of his partner in the entranceway.

"Oh, good evening Tatsumi. You gave me a start."

"Obviously, Watari-san. I would expect you to be a little more aware of your surroundings," Tatsumi scolded, frowning as he moved into the dark room towards the bed where Nagare lay.

Kneeling down by the pallet, the shadow-master ran his eyes over the resting form of the master of the house.

"How has he been?"

Leaning against the window frame, Watari watched the back of his partner's head. Lips quirked in a wry expression he smiled gently.

"Quiet. He got up for a few hours, in the middle of the day and we walked for a little bit. Walked down to Hiso... err... we walked down to the graves. He stayed with them for a little while, then wanted to come back. He's been resting ever sin..."

Watari was cut off by the sound of commotion running through the house. Nothing overly startling but definitely the sounds of the servants answering the door. Tensing, thinking immediately that it might be Iwao-sama, Watari moved away from the window towards the door. Unconsciously putting himself between his partner and the bundle of aggression that was Nagare's brother. It wasn't until his hand was on the doorframe that Watari remembered...

Oh, Hades in a handbasket... Muraki.

There was a light tap on the door a few minutes later as Meiya looked inside, her eyes flickering from the two 'doctors' to Nagare. "Master?"

Though his eyes had been closed, the sick man sounded quite awake when he said, "Yes?"

"Master, there is a visitor who is asking to see you. We've explained that you are unwell but he is very insistent and he..." he look flickered again to Tatsumi and Watari, "He says he is also a doctor... He gave me his card."

Nagare opened his eyes and sat up, extending his hand. Meiya crossed to him and placed the card on his palm.

Nagare looked at the card on his hand and his eyebrows rose. He frowned, and an odd spasm, an expression almost of cruel enjoyment seemed to pass over his features before they melted into quite a different expression one of a weariness or sadness.

"Show him in, Meiya," he said.

Still kneeling by the pallet, Tatsumi watched Nagare with an expression of calm concern. It did not immediately occur to him to question the presence of another doctor. After all, Watari was not a medical doctor and if ever a house needed a medical doctor it was the Kurosaki house. The shadow-master frowned a little as he watched the emotions dance across Nagare's face. The house was so full of questions... so full of secrets... sometimes even Tatsumi despaired that he'd be able to work through all the shadows.

Watari could not be quite as calm and composed as his partner was. Restless by nature and spurred to pacing by the explosion he anticipated was coming, the blond shinigami paced away from the door towards the window. Reaching the window he turned almost immediately around, like a man whom had absent-mindedly forgotten his keys, and moved back towards the center of the room. Watari angled his slight body in a way that once again put him between Tatsumi and what was about to come through that door.

Watari didn't doubt that Muraki would play the role of guest civility to the max, however, Tatsumi was wound so tight the scientist feared that his partner might snap if given the proper target.

And if it was one thing all of Meifu knew, it was that Muraki was one of Tatsumi's prime targets.

The girl left the room momentarily and then returned, escorting a tall man who was a striking vision of white. In the spiritual miasma that seemed to linger over the room, he seemed to shine almost with an inner glow. Ignoring any other occupants of the room, he came to the side of the sick man and bowed with deep reverence.

"Nagare-san," his deep voice was melodious and warm. "It pains me to see you in such a state."

Tatsumi immediately powered to his feet, his sapphire blue eyes darkening immediately with intense anger and disgust. His hands curled into fists at his sides and he twitched as if to reach and grab Muraki away from Nagare, but something in the way the sick man returned the doctor's greetings held the Kagetsukai frozen in place.

Tense enough to have stopped breathing, Watari watched both Tatsumi and Muraki closely. For him, Nagare had almost ceased to exist. His entire focus was on the two men now standing by the sick man's bedside.

"You have been away for such a long time, Sensei," Nagare said calmly, as to an old acquaintance. "I thought you had decided our little backwater no longer held any interest for a man of your skills."

Muraki knelt by the pallet and bowed again. "It was my shame in being unable to prevent the death of your child that kept me away, Nagare-san," Muraki said, his tone of voice flawlessly sincere. "But to find you ill now grieves me more than I can say."

"I know you tried your best, Muraki-sensei," Nagare said. Another little spasm seem to pass over his face and his slitted eyes opened a little wider for a moment, as a sound that resembled a laugh quickly turned into a cough. "Forgive my bluntness but I've learned to use time expediently. What brings you here now?"

"Concern for you, Nagare-san," Muraki answered, observing the man with eyes that missed nothing. "And the hope that where I failed the son, I might succeed with the father. In short, I would serve you, if you will give me permission to do so."

Nagare's lids lifted once again and his serpentine eyes regarded Muraki in a glitter of malice before they lowered. Nagare seemed to pause as if considering. "I doubt there is anything you can do for me that you have not already done," he said. Then after another brief pause, "But I'm honored that a man of such learning would take the time to come here. I won't forbid you. Examine me and make your diagnosis."

Watari didn't need telepathy or any other type of mental power to feel the anger and helpless fury pouring off Tatsumi at the moment. Though the elder guardian stepped back politely when Muraki approached Nagare, Tatsumi's whole body was tense with a predatory need to attack. Watari knew that Tatsumi would never forgive or forget the pain and suffering Muraki had visited on Tsuzuki and for Tatsumi there was no worse crime in this world or the next than harming Tsuzuki. The only thing that seemed to be keeping Tatsumi from action was the man's iron-like will and determined control. Watari knew Tatsumi would never allow himself to indulge in a vulgar display of temper in front of the *Master of the House*, but what would happen when they left Nagare's room, that was another story.

Muraki continued to ignore the other two men as if they did not exist. He took Nagare's wrist in his hand and felt for his pulse, not once but several times in different places, in the fashion of the Chinese physician. He noted the papery, almost scaly feeling of the man's skin. Lastly, he held a hand up to Nagare's face, shielding him from the light in the room with a curved palm while lifting one eyelid, and then the other, with the most delicate of touches. He leaned back, his expression grave.

"Possession is a difficult illness, Nagare-san," he said calmly. "But one I have cured in the past. This is the most intensive case I have ever seen. But there is a chance I can defeat it if you will allow me to work with you."

While Watari was caught, not only by some of the subtle reactions Nagare was having to Muraki but Muraki's pronouncement as well, Tatsumi hit critical mass.

Straightening to his full height and clearing his throat, the shadow-master took a step forward his voice polite, almost conversational but for the tightness in his tone and the clipped way he spoke his words.

"Sensei, perhaps a consultation with Watari-sensei before we settle upon such a dire diagnosis." In other words, let's talk... NOW!

A shadow flickered along the bedspread as Tatsumi spoke, perhaps not entirely under its master's control but definitely reacting to its master's state of mind.

Muraki looked up, as if noticing someone else in the room for the first time. His gaze passed dismissively over Tatsumi, for all his imposing stature, and flickered toward the other indicated individual, 'Watari-sensei'. "My apologies. Of course you have your own doctors to care for you, Nagare-san. However, I doubt any of them have my experience with the pernicious malady that is sapping your very life from your body. However if it is your will that I consult with them, I will of course do so," he said, placing the matter in the headman's lap.

Nagare's thin lips curved slightly. "In truth, I believe you when you state your superior experience, Muraki-sensei," he said. "But it would be rude to overrule Watari-sensei and his assistant so summarily. Consult with each other, if you wish. Tomorrow you can tell me what plan you have devised, if any plan can confront such a fate as mine." Nagare sank back and rested one thin hand over his eyes. "Leave me until then," he said, his voice fading.

Muraki rose gracefully and bowed again, before turning with a cordial but almost dismissive lift of his silver eyebrow at the other men, leading the way to the door.

Tatsumi hesitated, looking down at Nagare with open concern. He had no wish to leave the man but he couldn't disobey a command from the head of the house. Bowing towards Nagare with a grace and form that was enviable he turned and stalked past Watari his eyes fixed on Muraki's broad shoulders.

Watari's bow was just as respectful, though not as gracefully executed as Tatsumi's. The blond appeared to scurry a little as he spun on his heels, labcoat and hair flaring out behind him as he ducked towards the door.

Tatsumi had a long, purposeful stride but Watari was getting used to keeping up with the older man and in two quick jumps was right beside him.

"Don't kill him, Tatsumi," Watari muttered, sotto voiced.

"Why. Not?" Tatsumi snarled through his teeth.

"Erm... cause between the two of you you'd really damage the house."

"This house was irrevocably damaged when that man murdered its son."

There was a small pause before Watari said in a pensive voice, "Well... you have to admit, that's kinda open to debate."

A comment which caused Tatsumi to pause in his stalking of Muraki and spin on his partner. The rage in the shadow-master's blue eyes caused Watari to take a quick hop step back.

Muraki chuckled, audibly, without turning around. He simply continued walking through the house as if he knew it well, turning into an empty room that was used to receive guests in happier days of the family. Going inside, he made himself comfortable on a western-style chair, crossing his legs and folding his arms over his chest, waiting for the two shinigami to follow him.

"It would be a pity to destroy the house before the old man expires," he said aloud to the room.

Tatsumi firmly ignored Muraki, choosing instead to growl at his partner, "What is not open for debate is the fact that *that* man's presence in this house is an abomination. His words to Nagare-san are a sickness and he will not defile this domicile a moment longer."

Backed up against the wall, Watari held up his hands in a placating manner. Though Tatsumi made no moves that would be considered violent or rash, the burning hatred the shadow-master felt for Muraki seemed an almost tangible force.

"Really, Tatsumi that's not our call, I mean it's Nagare-san's house." Watari firmly tried to forget that he himself had issued the devil the invitation, at least for the moment.

"Nagare-san is ill, he needs our protection, especially from... a creature such as Muraki."

Somehow saying the doctor's name reminded Watari of the man's presence, albeit in the other room and he cleared his throat.

"Ah, speaking of which... don't you think that maybe it would be best if you and I didn't bicker in front of the nice sociopath? It makes them feel superior."

For a moment, Watari thought Tatsumi was going to go against his better judgment and flatten him into the wall but at the last moment the agitated Kagetsukai turned away from his partner with a dismissive snap of his hand, stalking into the room where Muraki reclined.

Still out in the corridor, Watari indulged in a deep breath. Taking a moment to lift his hand, pushing his glasses out of the way so he could rub his eyes with his thumb and his index finger, muttering softly to himself, "I am out of my mind."

In the room, Tatsumi stopped a few paces between the door and the chair Muraki was seated in and simply said, "Get out. You have no right to be in this house."

"No," Muraki said, just as directly, and smiled. "I'm not leaving. I don't care about rights, but if I did, permission from poor, doomed Nagare-san is sufficient. And of the abominations currently residing in this house," he added, showing that he had somehow overheard them, "I imagine I am, if not the least, certainly not the greatest."

Tatsumi throttled back on his urge to lash a hand in the man's direction, sending the shadows from where they lurked in the corners of the neglected room, hurtling in Muraki's direction. His hands clenched and unclenched rhythmically and his eyes narrowed.

"Why are you even here?" Perhaps the question should have come to him earlier but shock and anger had overridden sense for quite a few moments back in Nagare's room.

Watari, who was just now slipping around the edge of the doorframe, leaned back against the wall watching Muraki from behind Tatsumi's back. Though internally the young shinigami felt his gut clench with anticipation of the explosion that would occur if Muraki gave their deal away, outwardly he looked only curious and perhaps even slightly amused.

Muraki smiled a lovely, beautiful lizard smile.

"They say we always return to the scene of the crime, don't they? And who am I to disappoint *them*?" he said sweetly. Then his expression shifted to something so adult and serious that it damn near made Tatsumi in a rage appear frivolous. "I don't really care whether you believe this or not, but I *am* a doctor, and I *do* know a lot about what is happening here. There are things I can learn here. It's inconvenient to find you two errand boys for hell hanging around. Can't you wait until he dies to take his soul, must you hang around like vultures, waiting for it?"

For a brief moment, Tatsumi saw red and he almost let his emotions get the better of his sense. It was Muraki's own shift in tone and expression that triggered the shadow-master's inherent pride and reserved control. Drawing himself up, forcing his hands to relax out of their clenched fists, Tatsumi ground his back molars together but refused to rise to the bait.

"*Learn here*? Do you honestly believe that my partner or I will allow you to conduct your twisted experiments on these people?" Tatsumi was furious but not so far gone as to address the 'errand boy' comment, nor did he correct Muraki's assumption for why or for whom he and Watari had been dispatched.

Shoulders braced against the wall, Watari crossed his ankles and his arms, listening quietly to the conversation. Inside, his mind was in turmoil, though outside he seemed perfectly calm. Muraki's comments about vultures and errand boys even eliciting a small snort of unamused laughter out of him. For all the doctor's many faults, Watari did have to give the man credit for knowing what buttons to push.

Yes, and I'd best keep that in mind and make certain to safeguard my own buttons. Watari winced as the thought brushed across his conscious mind. Grabbing it, he forced it down into the shadowy recesses of his thoughts and focusing on Muraki and Tatsumi instead.

Muraki regarded Tatsumi in silence for a moment or two, his expression calculating. When he spoke, it was to both of them, almost pointedly to both of them, as if emphasizing the way Tatsumi had simply blanked out Watari's presence altogether.

"I can stop Yatonogami," he said, his tone even and matter of fact. "Can you?"

And in that instance, emotion crashed into logic and left Tatsumi standing perfectly still. Sapphire blue eyes intent upon Muraki, he seemed to study the doctor's pale, handsome features almost as if he were peeling back layers of skin and bone to pick at the very brain beneath.

Seiichirou Tatsumi was many things, but he was neither a fool, nor a dolt. Turning his upper body, taking his eyes off Muraki for the first time since the doctor had arrived, it seemed, his gaze raked across his partner, lounging in the doorway. Without taking his eyes off Watari, Tatsumi spoke in a voice that was positively cordial, when compared to his earlier snarls.

"Would you, please excuse my partner and myself for a moment, Sensei." Perhaps not quite a question.

Another lizard smile. "Of course. However I won't promise to stay put while you have your private tete a tete, shinigami."

Tatsumi's jaw worked as he abused his teeth once again.

Watari straightened slightly from his lean and pulled his eyes off Tatsumi, looking towards Muraki.

"Perhaps you might refrain from killing anyone on your first night guesting in the house, Sensei?"

"A promise I am not prepared to make," Muraki said with a pleasantness that bordered on humor.

Watari didn't say anything but his amber eyes reflected his thoughts rather clearly. *Behave, or our deal, all of our deal is null and void and not only do I stop actively trying to keep Tatsumi from going after you, I'll help him.* Strangely enough, there was none of his partner's aggressive threatening posture in the glance. In fact, it was almost amused and civil, like... a statement on the weather... or a teacher gently chastising a student... oh wait... hadn't they done that once already... ah well, Watari had no problems repeating that which was amusing to him.

The glance met and bounced off fathomless grey eyes that glinted amber like a pool of water you couldn't begin to guess the depth of from looking at the surface.

Tatsumi watched the glances, which only seemed to confirm the suspicion that was taking hold of his mind. A suspicion he felt gnawing at the lining of his stomach.

"Watari-san..." He spoke in a low tone a tone Watari had heard before.

Watari reached up and pushed at his glasses, his eyes closing for a moment.

"Let me speak to the Sensei, please. Then I'll present myself for our conversation."

Tatsumi, as if mirroring his partner's motions, reached up and nudged the bottom rims of his glasses with his index finger and thumb. It was an action that denoted extreme agitation and was not lost on Watari. Turning his attention back towards Muraki, Tatsumi didn't bother to keep the loathing out of his gaze as he looked upon the doctor.

Tatsumi wanted answers. He could already taste his own conclusions like bile on his tongue but the thought of turning Muraki loose in the house... the thought of turning his back on the sociopath made Tatsumi's chest hurt. He turned a glare of intense disapproval on his partner.

"I will not condone this man harming anyone in this house while we are here. Hear me on this Watari-san." There was no mistaking the highborn command in Tatsumi's tone. Walking on towards the door, Tatsumi paused long enough to continue with, "I am going to go check on Nagare-san. When I am finished, we will talk and if he," a nod in Muraki's direction, "does not have a suitable leash, we will talk with an audience."

Giving Watari no time to respond, Tatsumi strode on through the door and back down the hall.

After a beat, Watari exhaled the breath it felt like he had been holding for the past half-hour and pushed off from the wall, walking across the room to one of the windows that looked out over the garden.

"That went well." It was hard to tell if he was being serious or sarcastic.

"I wonder what he would consider a suitable leash," Muraki said thoughtfully, his voice just behind Watari's ear as if he'd teleported from the chair. "Perhaps you could braid me one out of your lovely hair..." His arms moved around Watari almost before he could blink. "I can't say I mind your urgent desire to be alone with me, but really, pet, if you'd played it a little cooler, your partner need not have been suspicious of you at all. I'm rather afraid you've blown it. You should have trusted me."

Watari just managed to keep from jumping out of his skin when Muraki's voice came from right behind him, the man's arms following a split second later. What surprised him was the tickle of need he felt to lean back into that embrace... just for a moment... before he remembered where he was and who he was with. Standing, still for a moment, when he moved it was lightening fast. Bringing his foot up and back, Watari aimed the heel of his boot hurtling towards Muraki's instep.

Muraki shifted away the instant before the blow struck home. Leaning against the wall about two feet away, he shook his head. "We'll never get anywhere like that."

Damn! Watari thought to himself as he wiggled the ball of his foot on the floor to shake away the sting from the impact with the ground. He considered another strike but figured that would be only too predictable. Muraki knew what that kick was for, time to move on.

"Do you honestly consider yourself capable of tackling this problem? Or are you just being your usual arrogant self?" Watari forced himself to flick the other comments aside, despite the varied stings to his pride.

"The two are not mutually exclusive," Muraki said with a slight smile. "Have you changed your mind?"

For a moment the young shinigami was silent, but then he began to chuckle. A wry, rueful but humorous sound all the same. "Would, that I could. Though, I suppose I could. After all, you appear to be an almost certain death for the innocents in this house, while Yatonogami is an unknown."

"What makes you think there *are* any innocents in this house?" Muraki said. "You are correct about one thing. I bring death. I'm not sure why a shinigami should be squeamish about such things, I've always wondered that. Will it please you if I tell you the deaths will be limited? How about a number? Two. It will take two deaths to defeat Yatonogami. Just two. I'm not interested in any others."

'It will take two deaths to defeat Yatonogami.' It was those words that stuck and held in Watari's mind. Leaning, tilting his head so he could peer over his shoulder at Muraki, the young scientist's amber eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Two deaths?"

Muraki smiled. "You expect me to give it all to you now? I don't think so. Be satisfied with that for the moment. You need me, you were correct about that. Your second thoughts are foolish. You should have more faith in your own logic, it's quite remarkable. I haven't been idle since last night. I have everything I need. It can end. But if you renege on your bargain with me, the number two will grow in ways you will not be able to forget no matter how long you exist."

The shinigami pushed aside the flattery in which Muraki coated his words and looked only at what the man was bargaining with. He weighed in what he knew of Muraki, Muraki's wants and needs, against the promise of two... to the promise of many. It was folly perhaps but it was folly in motion and though the experiment could blow up in his face, he recognized that he was in too deep to just stop now. Not with the threat of Yatonogami looming so close to the surface.

"I will not step back from my bargain, unless you take the body count beyond the two you say will be needed to satisfy this conundrum." Watari exhaled a slow breath and raised a hand to push at his glasses. "Break your side of this bargain..." the scientist lowered his hand slightly meeting those fathomless silver eyes directly, all traces of warmth, of humanity erased from the amber gold of his own eyes. "And you shall live to suffer the results."

"Dispense with the threats, they suit your partner better than you," Muraki said. "Keep your bargain and you'll have no need of them. But if it is to be kept, it must be kept at all times, not just when you feel like it. Another rebuff such as you just enacted will be considered your faithlessness. You will be solely responsible for the outcome."

Watari let the 'threat' comment go. He had no desire to get into a 'pissing' contest with Muraki. He did have a specific retaliation in mind but there was no need to tip that part of his hand. Instead, the amber eyes lit back up and the corners of the young engineer's mouth twitched upwards.

"But, Sensei... I would not wish you to find me boring and predictable. I was under the impression you enjoyed the thrill of the domination."

"The domination is in the mind, Yutaka-kun," Muraki said, his voice honey sweet. "Scuffles are a poor counterfeit. I've stated my terms, toy with them at your own discretion but please don't chide me with the outcome. I've nothing to prove. You promised and I intend to collect. My time is limited and so is yours, since I fully expect the deal to be abandoned when you've gotten what you want."

One gold, gracefully winged eyebrow arched upwards. Something flitted in Watari's eyes, gone too fast to read perhaps. "I know better than to sit here and throw words against your expectations, Sensei. You will believe what you desire to believe until you are proven differently. However," Watari paused and stroked his tongue across his bottom lip in a pensive gesture as if screwing up his courage, or perhaps just tamping down on his own pride. "I apologize for my unseemly display of temper." Perhaps surprisingly there was no hint of sarcasm in the young shinigami's tone and a polite, civil bow of the head accompanied the apology.

Hell, the little display of temper hadn't worked anyway. Muraki was too quick for such tricks. A silly reaction to being labeled. Watari hated labels.

The doctor smiled and it was the kind of smile that could send a shiver up the back of even the worldly shinigami. "Make it up to me," he said, and crooked his finger in a summons. "And you better make it quick before your partner looses his patience."

Watari entertained the idea of wishing for Enma to go ahead and strike him down, right here right now. He bridled against following Muraki's orders but even as he cringed inwardly, something the doctor said came back to him.

'The domination is in the mind.'

Very true. I promised him my body. I never said anything about my mind. Wiping his face of any expression beyond polite curiosity, Watari shook motion into his limbs taking first one step, then the second step towards Muraki. As he closed the distance between himself and the doctor, the blond cast his mind back to one of the first textbooks he'd ever read, back as a six-year old. A body in motion...

Muraki watched him approach with a smile but did not do anything. He didn't put his arms around Watari or lean close to him. He simply waited.

Like a computer running multiple programs, a part of Watari's mind smirked wryly at Muraki's patience. Another part of his mind was working on breaking down the compounds found in coal and reforming them into diamonds and another part of his mind recited the textbook. Stopping once he was within an inch of Muraki, Watari looked up into gray eyes smiling, perfectly submissive.

"And what would be a proper apology?" It was a game. A game as cerebral as the formulas he now ran and toyed with in his head.

Muraki smiled, not fooled in the slightest by Watari's newly submissive stance. "Kiss me."

It's just my body, just a game. Play it well.

Watari repeated the words in his head until he believed them himself. Stroking his tongue one more time, lightly across his lips, he had to rock up slightly to the balls of his feet to reach the taller man. A slender hand rose, sensitive fingers closing with feather light gentleness at the base of Muraki's neck for balance. Like the kiss they shared in the chapel the touch of the shinigami's lips was unhurried, gossamer light at first. A mere tasting followed by a second quick teasing caress, warm breath tickling damp skin. Then again, a little harder, a more thorough investigation of the doctor's mouth, until finally Watari closed his lips over Muraki's tickling at the other man's closed mouth with the tip of an impish tongue.

Muraki responded perfectly to each stage of the progression, not pushing forward neither stiff nor unresponsive. His lips were warm and soft and there was a faint scent that seemed to invade Watari's nostrils at this proximity, an almost sweet, almost spicy aura like candied ginger. When Watari's tongue tickled at his lips they opened and invited him inside.

Unlike the quick exploration of the chapel, Watari took his time investigating Muraki's mouth. Making a thorough and skillful circuit of the doctor's teeth, sensitive gums and the roof of his mouth. He toyed with the depth and angle of the kiss using his tongue in a lazy thrusting motion before drawing back with one final touch of his lips to the very corner of Muraki's mouth. Rocking back down so his feet set flatly on the floor, Watari drew his hand off of Muraki's neck, slowly tickling his fingers along the warm skin of the other man's neck and throat, down across his collarbone and the top of his chest before withdrawing completely.

At least, that was the plan.

What actually happened, as Watari realized almost belatedly, so focused was he on his intentions, was that when his tongue began to thrust into Muraki's mouth, the doctor's tongue curled around it, twining and sliding along, hindering nothing but caressing his and then gently sucking it deeper. The suction increased so slowly, subtly, that Watari was hardly aware that he was thrusting deeper, and increasing his pace, until he woke up to find himself enclosed by strong arms, kissing Muraki as deeply as he could, his thrusts becoming rapid and almost desperate-seeming. His skin felt hot.

And then he felt something else. It wasn't Muraki's hands, they were simply placed, a weight at the small of his back and another loosely cupping his shoulder. This new sensation was so light he missed it at first. A cool, silky touch at his ankle. It brushed his skin and slipped under his trouser cuff, sliding upwards along his lower leg, flat and smooth, cool and silky, like a piece of silk ribbon. It circled his thigh, climbing higher under his clothes, slipped under the edge of his boxers and then slithered into the warm area of his crotch. Once there it slid under his balls, around them and finally between his sac and his shaft, circling its base. Cool and silky... circling until it was wound around the base of his cock and still around his balls, tightening just a little, slithering, settling, then still.

Muraki lifted his head and licked his lips, looking down into Watari's face with a little smile.

It took every last ounce of Watari's not inconsiderable will and cerebral logic to keep from thrusting himself away from Muraki and tearing at his own clothes. Fury perhaps brightened his amber eyes, but it was fury at himself for being unable to completely dispel the fine trembling that shook his entire body. With a deep breath, Watari reminded himself that while unpleasant, he could endure excruciating pain and survive. A deep breath and Watari reminded himself that he was an amusement for Muraki, a temporary stopgap. A deep breath and Watari reminded himself that Muraki was unlikely to use everything at his disposal on him. A deep breath, and the scientist reminded himself that he had an obligation to protect his partner, his friends and freaking out over something that ultimately could only kill him would not suit that purpose.

Slowly even the trembling abated until Watari was left standing there, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss, watching Muraki with a curious little tilt to his eyebrows.

"What's next?" He spoke in a soft tone. He had given his promise. There was only one direction to go from here.

Forward.

"That would be telling," Muraki said, but it was clear to Watari that the doctor was pleased.

"Actually I think next would be... the Hades accountant?" He released Watari from his embrace with only the barest brush of a fingertip against the man's crotch.

Something silky stirred and settled as if in answer. The encirclement was just a tiny bit tight. Not enough to even be uncomfortable, just enough to be impossible to ignore completely.

At the mention of Tatsumi, Watari felt something simultaneously kick in his chest and sink in the pit of his stomach. He quickly lidded his eyes to hide his expression and deflected his own concerns on the subject of Tatsumi with his best defense.

Macabre humor.

"You realize there is a good possibility that all your ... ah... work is going to be wasted when Tatsumi-san neuters me?" Watari looked back up, a thoughtful expression replacing the worried look that had been in his eyes. "Would that mean I reneged on our bargain? Maybe not. It will just mean I'm missing a bit of the tackle."

Muraki chuckled. "I'll make do," he said, and then added, "And I would truly like to see his face in the event that he did decide to neuter you and opens up your pants."

It was almost surreal the way the mind could work. Watari's thoughts skewed away from the dire implications of the silky touch to his genitals as well as the upcoming meeting with his partner. Grabbing his pants he began to work the clasp himself.

"So help me, if I can't drink tea and perform the act of relieving myself of the tea, let alone my morning coffee... then I'm going to be grumpy, Muraki." Calling the doctor by name for the first time since meeting him in the chapel.

Just as Watari got his zipper down but before he could peek into his boxers, the door to the room started to open.

"Ah sod it!" Watari spun from the door and just as quickly as he'd taken the zipper down began to work it back up! Though there was a part of him that found the situation humorous...

No, really Seii, I've been having this burning sensation when I urinate and Muraki was going to check on it for me... yeah, I know I'm dead and don't get infections but you just don't want to risk these things.

"I am loosing my mind." The blond shinigami muttered.

Tatsumi tapped preemptively on the door even as he opened it. He'd had time to cool down to the more calculating side of his persona, time to analyze the information against his suspicions. In fact, he found himself taking refuge in analytical thinking. It was the only way to counter the way his foundations had rocked at the split second - surely it couldn't have been more than that? - moment when he suddenly believed that Watari had somehow been gotten to by Muraki, that Watari was no longer the man he knew and never would be again.

In the end, it all boiled down to the look. That one look Watari had shot at Muraki, the look of complicity.

It was a very subjective thing to base his judgment on. His mind told him that. But the same logical mind also reminded him that one of any shinigami's most important tools had to be his intuition. It was a stalemate argument.

Pushing the door open, he saw Watari's back, the end of an odd movement, and standing beyond him maybe a foot away, but that was close, too damn close, Muraki. The doctor's expression was one of amusement and that alone sent every warning bell in Tatsumi's mind off like a company of claxons.

Tatsumi stopped just inside the doorway. "Watari." His voice sounded strange in his own ears. Cold. Utterly devoid of emotion. It was odd because emotions were roiling through him, fraying his concentration.

For all his mental joking, Watari knew a moment of tension when his zipper stuck, only to have it free up and slip into place, fumbling fingers getting the rest of his pants fastened in time to make it, maybe look like he'd been after a wrinkle in his slacks.

The coldness of his partner's voice sliced through him like a shard of ice, leaving his soul shivering. Or that's your own disgust getting the better of you? A nasty little voice whispered but Watari smashed down on the emotion ruthlessly. Remembering at the last moment to catch his lower lip between his teeth he spun towards Tatsumi an explosion of motion, all hair and bright cheerful gold eyes.

"There you are! I was about to come looking for you, Tatsumi-san but as usual you beat me to the punch."

Tatsumi's eyes caught Watari's like a cool vise glanced at or actually towards Muraki and back, the question clear. Could he be left?

The silent question was itself a test of sorts.

The breath caught and lodged in Watari's throat threatening to choke him. He could feel the testing, the weighing in those deep, sapphire eyes and for a brief moment in time it was a question Watari didn't know the proper answer to. So he turned it back on Tatsumi.

Casting his hands up in the air, Watari shrugged. They had two choices. Talk in front of the doctor, or leave the doctor to his own devices and talk in private. The choice was Tatsumi's.

Tatsumi met the return question and it never occurred to him to avoid the decision. Muraki was watching them and his expression made Tatsumi's cold rage boil under its careful containment.

"Meiya is ready to show you to your room," Tatsumi said in the direction of the doctor. "Watari, I think we need a few minutes to consult before the next move."

It was a capitulation. Backing down from his original and still desired stance of 'Get out!' The edges of the floor seemed to ripple a little where shadows gathered to escape from the pale electric lamps.

Tatsumi turned and left, not bothering to wait for a reaction from Muraki and fully expecting Watari to be on his heels. He'd intended to head for their room but he changed his mind after four steps and instead went outside, walking along the path beside the house until he could get out of sight of the windows, more specifically one window - the window of the room they'd just left. Once there, he turned around.

Watari stood, motionless, watching Tatsumi closely as the older shinigami came to the decision. When Tatsumi turned and exited the room, Watari was already moving towards the door. He paused, half turning towards Muraki as if to impart some last smart ass comment but whatever he was going to say died on his lips. Instead he just watched Muraki over his shoulder for a moment, his expression hard to read.

"Good evening, Sensei," was all he could think to say, a hand lifting to run nervously through his long hair as he slipped through the doorway.

For a moment, Watari panicked when he didn't immediately see Tatsumi in the hallway, heading to their room. A brush of the chilly fall air alerted the younger shinigami to the presence of a door, leading out to the garden, just clicking shut. Knowing Tatsumi was already tense and having a bad feeling things were just going to get more tense, Watari hurried along jogging for a couple of steps so that by the time Tatsumi was turning around, Watari was right there, only a few feet away.

Tatsumi locked eyes with his partner, giving the young man a penetrating once-over, picking up every detail he could detect. What he saw was both subtly disturbing and reassuring at the same time.

Leaning his back against a large, old tree, he crossed his arms.

"Tell me."

It was strange, but Watari felt himself bridle beneath Tatsumi's searching gaze. He'd endured much more invasive studies from Muraki in the past twenty-four hours but somehow, they hurt less. Shaking away that thought quickly, Watari paced a little further down the path, passing Tatsumi where he was leaning on the tree. Watari hated the cold and he reached up to tug the edges of his labcoat more tightly around his body.

"Couldn't you have at least warned me we were going to be doing this outside? I would have grabbed my jacket. I'm going to turn into a popsicle... which would actually be an interesting experiment... I wonder if I can still freeze to death..." His tone took on a musing quality as he tilted his head and looked up at the night sky, his words, part stalling tactic and half the strange way his thoughts could run sometimes.

"Yutaka," Tatsumi's voice was clear but not loud. His use of Watari's first name was unusual and guaranteed to get attention. "Don't make me ask again."

Yes, yes indeed the sound of his first name coming from the formal Tatsumi always did, certain things to Watari, pleasant, bittersweet things. This time was no different, even though the question in his name linked back to a distasteful answer.

Watari sighed softly and walked a few more steps away. He paused and chuckled a little as he realized what he was doing.

A little pointless to try to hide in shadows when you're hiding from a man who masters them.

But he did it anyway, weighing his options. If he left Tatsumi with only his suspicions it was altogether possible that his partner would become an unknown factor to the game, a risk to himself and to the whole operation. At the same time, telling Tatsumi also carried a certain set of risks. Watari reached up and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

Turning back around, he walked back towards the old tree, coming close enough to be able to see his partner's blue eyes clearly. He carefully wiped away his usual façade of cheerful silliness an attempt to show Tatsumi that he was being as serious as the grave.

"If... if I asked you to give me a little leeway and a little trust in this matter, do you think you could?" There was no challenge in his tone, no defensiveness that the words might normally carry. He knew, oh but he knew how important control and self-sufficiency was to Tatsumi, the question was genuine.

Tatsumi gave the question a full moment of consideration before answering. "About anything else in this world or the next, yes. About Muraki," he didn't bother to hide a hint of regret in his voice along with a carefully controlled anger that was not directed at Watari but at the man who had caused all of this by simply appearing. "About Muraki... no. No, I can't. You knew that before you asked, didn't you?" Tatsumi broke the direct eye to eye contact for a moment and looked away to the left at the last rose flares of sunset. "I said tell me so you could do it your own way. Since you won't, I suppose I'll have to ask the questions."

When Tatsumi turned away, Watari allowed his eyes to close, shutting out the world, shutting out the image of his stalwart partner and trying to shut out the words that he could only hear as reproach coming from his friend's lips. In an instance the desire to open his mouth and let it all out was nearly overwhelming. For an instance, Watari wanted to walk up next to Tatsumi lean on his shoulder, as he'd seen Tsuzuki do in times past, and tell Tatsumi the whole of it. Explain his actions. Explain Muraki's bargain. Ask for help in a situation that he suddenly felt woefully inadequate to handle.

Yes, the urge to reach to Tatsumi, to help dispel the crushing loneliness he felt was strong but he swallowed the impulses. He couldn't set this at Tatsumi's door and ask Tatsumi to fix it. Not because he didn't believe Tatsumi wouldn't try, because Tatsumi would try but because the Shadow-Master couldn't be asked to fix everything for everybody.

Even though Tatsumi demanded such an unattainable level of perfection from himself.

"Tatsumi..." Watari began in a gently warning tone. Hoping, hoping beyond hope that Tatsumi would, let it go. A fool's wish. Yet more folly. Crossing his arms over his chest, Watari took a step away from his partner and turned towards the rising blanket of the night sky. "If you must."

Tatsumi did not look away from the sunset because he had a suspicion that if he did, he'd be unable to do what he had to do. If he once looked at the so-familiar face framed by sunrise curls, he'd be frozen, unable to act, unable to decide, and unable to protect anyone, even his partner.

"Yes or no will be sufficient," he said. "You brought him here."

His back still to Tatsumi, Watari squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the early night stars. Yes, or no. Well at least it saved him the possible humiliation of babbling out inane excuses hoping for approval for his action. At least this would be quick, clean and probably painful.

Swallowing around a sudden dryness in his throat, he whispered his answer the first time around gave his head a hard shake and forced himself to speak more clearly, firmly and honestly.

"Yes."

Tatsumi stilled completely. After a frozen moment, he reached up, still looking away, and removed his glasses, pressing his fingertips against the middle of his brow as if trying to keep something from bursting through his forehead. As the sun sank below the horizon, the chill in the air increased, along with the darkness.

There was a long moment of silence. Finally Tatsumi raised his glasses to put them back on, and turned his eyes towards Watari.

"Yes or no will be sufficient," he repeated. "You had a... a reason to think this was the... the right," the word did not want to pass over something lodged in his throat, but he made it, "...thing to do."

Watari had opened his eyes, but he had not turned back towards his partner. The drop in temperature seemed to want to cut through him, though Watari realized he was already trembling and it had nothing to do with the cold air playing with the hem of his labcoat. He exhaled a long slow breath as he listened to Tatsumi fight to get the next question out. Answering it after barely a pause.

"Yes."

And though he had given up the right to explain his actions he tacked the explanation on in his thoughts. Because Muraki's right... the end of this will result in deaths, and I don't believe your soul can carry the blood of Hisoka's kin... not when your heart has taken them in. It took an act of will Watari wasn't certain he had in himself not to turn and say the words, but he couldn't lay the burden for his decision back on Tatsumi.

Tatsumi seemed to look at him for a long time, as the world got darker around them. The last question hung in the air unspoken. /What did you do to get him here/*keep* him here?/

And remained unspoken. Tatsumi couldn't explain either, but this was the only way he could even come close to doing what Watari had asked him - giving him leeway. He left the question unasked.

The next thing Tatsumi said was a different question but from his tone - frosty, but not out of the level of what any stressful situation might not call forth - Watari could tell that the interrogation was over.

"Do you have a plan for this situation or are you making it up as you go?"

Something in Watari wanted Tatsumi to ask that silent question. He wanted Tatsumi to ask it so he could answer it and then ask, beg, plead for Tatsumi's help. The ghostly sensation of silk made him want to be ill as he fought to ignore its invasive touch. Though he would fight with everything he had not to give Muraki the satisfaction a part of Watari felt very scared and very alone. But Tatsumi unwittingly did them both a favor by leaving the question unspoken.

Watari scrapped together his wits and he felt his lips twitch. In the beginning, he'd had a perfectly laid out plan. In the past twenty-four hours he could no longer fool himself into believing that the plan was still the same one he'd started with. Muraki was just too unpredictable an element. But, when all was said and done, Watari could still hold on to the core of the plan.

Protecting Tatsumi.

So... he didn't lie when he said, "I ... yes, I... there is a plan."

"I need more than that," Tatsumi said, his voice almost normal. Stressed, but almost back to the way it had been before. "You've gambled on setting one demon against another. I don't know why you did it but you must have had a..." Once again, the word did not want to come out and he forced it. "...good reason. But if anything, anything goes wrong, I won't stop and ask for your approval or even your cooperation," Tatsumi said. "I. Will. Take. Him. Out."

He paused and then said, "Unless you have a better one, *that* is the plan from this point on."

Watari's shoulder gave a small shake with silent, mirthless laughter, though it could have just been a shiver. No Seiichirou, I'm sorry. The plan is still the original.

Out loud, after a moment's thought, Watari opened his mouth thinking to explain when he realized that Tatsumi hadn't asked a question. Tatsumi seemed to have the bit back between his logical teeth and was running with it. To stop him now might result in more questions. Might result in revisiting the question of just what Watari had bargained with. So the scientist nodded instead speaking softly, "I understand."

Tatsumi nodded. Then he stood up, unleaning from the tree. He walked over to Watari and before the other man knew what was happening, had removed his suit jacket and thrown it across Watari's shoulders, as if he'd seen the slight movement and interpreted it as a reaction to the chilling night air. "When this is all over you better have a *hell* of an explanation," he murmured, almost to himself. A stray beam of moonlight glanced off the wire rims of his glasses. "I'm giving you the lead," he made a brief sound that implied a soft snort without actually being one. "Since you've taken it on yourself. Don't screw up."

Surprised, almost to the point of jaw dropping, Watari reached around and pulled the jacket, still warm from Tatsumi's body heat, up around his shoulders, allowing himself to soak up the residual warmth as well as a hint of comfort. Head ducked, his long hair curtained his face for the most part but a small, genuine little grin quirked up the corners of his lips. Internally he thought to himself, Yes, I'm going to be working on that explanation for quite some time I think... to make it an acceptable one. To the rest he actually gave a little chuckle, humor coming to the fore in a tentative, gentle manner. "Oh, ah I think I filled my quota of screw ups before we left Meifu... erm... when I blew... errr... when I had that minor miscalculation with... you know... the thing."

In truth he wasn't trying to brush off, or make light of Tatsumi's words of warning, he was just responding to them in the only way that was safe.

"We'd better get back inside and count the house maids," Tatsumi said, dead flat serious and oblivious to the element of humor that could have been attributed to the remark.

Tatsumi's tone was the only thing that kept Watari from following up with his own inappropriate remarks.

Well, it almost stopped him.

"Ah, did you... take inventory before we left?" To his ever-lasting credit, Watari asked the question with a straight face.

After the day he'd had all Watari wanted was another nice warm bath, this time with a brillo pad! After the evening meal the scientist left Tatsumi speaking to Meiya. His partner was probably trying to warn the girl about Muraki, though personally Watari felt this was a lost cause. Meiya and the others already appeared charmed by the handsome doctor.

But Watari decided to leave Tatsumi to it and head for the bath. 003, confused by the conflicting scents of Muraki and Tatsumi really wasn't talking to him at the moment so he left the little owl behind. In truth he felt as if he were betraying even her company. Sleep robes, shampoo soap and towel in hand the scientist headed for the bathing chamber.

This was one thing he really enjoyed about the Kurosaki compound. The luxury of their bathing chambers. Tatsumi, Watari knew felt guilty about taking advantage of the hot water and the rest of the amenities but Watari couldn't quite bring himself to feel the same reluctance. Maybe it had something to do with the difference between having short and long hair. His head still full of thoughts from the events of the day, Watari was running on automatic pilot as he set down his items and began to disrobe.

He'd left his labcoat back in the room so he wiggled out of his two turtlenecks first, then reached for the fastenings on his trousers. His mind full of just how he was going to explain his actions to Konoe, let alone Enma, he'd forgotten about his silky passenger.

As he unzipped his pants, however, he was reminded. Something down there, something circling both his cock and his balls, tightened a tiny bit then relaxed, giving him a little squeeze.

Enma might command a lot of attention but there were still some things that could distract a man from the Lord of Hades. Having one's cock and balls squeezed by an unseen something was right at the top of the list.

"Sonofa..." Watari muttered to himself, remembering the touch, the kiss and now the silky something that had been with him for the past few hours. Forgotten, first in the confrontation with Tatsumi, then through dinner and right on up until this point.

Yanking his trousers open, Watari wiggled out of them and kicked them to the corner before reaching for, and divesting himself of, his boxers. Time to find out what the doctor had stuck up his pants.

"There is just no way this can be good."

Looking down, what he saw was so innocuous it left his jaw hanging. Curled around his genitals, threaded through and between them and circling where it couldn't easily be pulled away, was what appeared to be a length of red silk ribbon. It was satiny in texture and the ends had in fact arranged themselves in a small, but rather pert little...

Bow. At the top of the base of his cock.

For a long, long minute Watari just stood there staring at the bow. Really, he stared at the whole length of ribbon but in particular he stared at that bow. It was the bow that did it. It pushed him right over the edge.

First, a chuckle. Then another chuckle, then he was laughing. Genuinely laughing at first because he had to give the devil his due. A bow? But gradually the genuine, amused laughter gave way to the strain of the day and the laughter became slightly hysterical and before he knew it, Watari was seated on the ground blinded by tears that were part laughter, part reaction but which hampered his attempt to remove the bow.

Behind him, the door of the bathing room opened silently and someone entered, feet in thong slippers making almost no sound on the polished wood floor.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Muraki's deep voice purred behind him, the tinge of amusement in it unhidden.

He was sitting, naked on the floor fighting with a bow, which was wrapped around his cock. Watari knew he should be reacting with startled indignation but he simply could not work up the energy to expend on something so trivial. Besides, he'd grown up in a time when being body conscious was considered obsolete.

"Why... not?" He asked plainly, though he did stop trying to pluck at the ends of the ribbon.

Muraki moved around Watari, stepping out of his sandals, clad in a silk robe of a dark green that made his pale skin even more striking. He carried his own towels and soap. "Because you might hurt yourself," he answered the question.

As he did, the ribbon rustled and slithered a little, circling Watari's genitals without coming loose. The sensation was... intensely sensual. It also felt like a live thing snuggling his family jewels.

The creepy factor helped to balance out the sensual factor though Watari watched the ribbon with a curiously raised eyebrow. As the ribbon moved, his fingers reached for it, remembering at the last second not to touch.

Exhaling a deep breath, Watari reached up and pulled his glasses off his face, effectively blinding himself. "Well, at least it's not cotton. Hopefully it won't shrink."

Really, what else could he say? He could demand Muraki remove it, and be laughed at. He could continue to try to remove it and at least risk breaking the bargain. It was just creepy enough to keep him on his toes, so maybe it might help him get his reactions to the pale doctor under control. Grabbing up his shampoo, the scientist crawled/slid to the edge of one of the hot tubs, paused for a moment to peer blearily at the ribbon, muttering, "don't shrink... don't shrink," and then sliding into the warm, soothing embrace of the water.

It didn't shrink.

It did however seem to like the water. It continued to slither around him, giving him an intimate massage until it finally settled a little, the ends floating in the water.

The tub was large enough for more than one occupant, and Muraki's presence would not have raised a single eyebrow among the household, it wasn't unusual for people of the same gender to share a Japanese bath. Whether Watari was expecting Muraki to shed his robe and join him that is exactly what happened.

The doctor's body was perfectly proportioned on his large frame, and his skin was smooth, though there were some odd white marks that seemed to swirl over his torso and one shoulder. And there was one distinct, white scar across his abdomen under the chest.

Stepping into the water, he sat facing Watari, to all appearances relaxing in the warm water.

Watari's body was at war with his mind. His body was all for responding to that intimate, somewhat playful caress of the ribbon while his mind was still busily screaming, creepy! Eyes firmly closed, he really couldn't see all that well anyway, he stretched down into the bath, laying his head back against the edge.

The scientist would have been a fool to imagine that Muraki would not join him in the bath and it was quite large enough for more than one or even two occupants. It was be missish and silly to throw a fit over the fact that Muraki was in the bath with him, so Watari contented himself with trying to pretend the doctor just, wasn't there.

There was no doctor in the bath with him. Just a large water bug making waves. Well it worked well in theory. In honesty, he couldn't completely dismiss the fact that Muraki was naked, in the bath where Watari was also floating naked. Though he kept his eyes closed, Watari felt more of the slightly manic laughter build in his chest, its soft sound echoing in the bath chamber.

"Yutaka-kun," Muraki's voice was low and soothing. "Relax. Just relax." As if obeying his words, the ribbon settled comfortable, snuggly. The sensation was something he could almost get used to.

Eyes closed, Watari didn't see, but felt large hands settle on his shoulders and turn him, tilting him back to let his hair down into the water, immersing it.

The blond shinigami could not deny the hypnotic quality of Muraki's voice. It was low, soft, soothing. It felt like warm velvet brushing gently across raw nerves and Watari could not explain away the fact that something in him wanted to sink into that velvet embrace and never come up. When Muraki's hands touched his shoulders he shivered and it was not entirely from disgust. He knew his muscles were tight, tense and strained but the warm water, Muraki's voice, the touch of the ribbon, the steam, all of it seemed to want to make him light-headed and compliant as his neck relaxed into the tilt directed by Muraki's hands. Long, honey blonde hair fanned out like a living creature on the water, darkening to a deep, gold that came alive with fiery highlights as it was soaked by the water.

Large, deft hands stroked though his hair, wetting it thoroughly. Then he caught the scent of his own shampoo and the next thing he felt was the doctor lathering his scalp, gently, rhythmically, washing his hair without pulling it, tending him as gently as if he were a child.

With his eyes closed, being touched in a way he hadn't been touched in almost half a century, Watari could feel him loosing a part of himself. He snatched out a mental hand to grab at it but it slipped away from him before he could reach it. Trembling now... aware of the danger he was in, Watari turned his mind inwards, grabbing onto the one thought that still seemed crystal clear.

Tatsumi.

"You have eternity to seduce your unimaginative partner," Muraki purred softly. "And only a short time to keep your promise to me. Let it go. I said I wanted you, and you agreed. You didn't say anything about your *body only*..."

Strong hands rinsed the soap out of Watari's hair with the same slow movements.

Now completely off balance, Watari grabbed hold of the first thing he could think of his voice a hoarse whisper, "What are you doing in my thoughts?" His body felt heavy, limp despite the tension making the muscles of his back and shoulders rock hard. Yet his head bobbed and moved in perfect accordance to the direction of those strong, deft hands.

Watari ignored the second part of Muraki's sentence. He didn't quite know how to address it at that moment. Yet again, his mind called out to his partner.

Tatsumi!

Muraki chuckled. "I wasn't reading your thoughts. Just your nature. Human nature is very easy to read and you shinigami are, after all, only human in essence. Most of you, anyway." Lifting Watari's body a little to get his rinsed hair out of the water, he began massaging the bunched muscles in his neck and shoulders with incredible skill. Leaning over the young scientist, his mouth covered Watari's at the exact same moment as Watari's mind called Tatsumi's name.

A thought that didn't quite feel like his own echoed his mental call. If you call him, he'll come. If he comes, he'll see...

And it didn't take much for Watari's tired stressed mind to fill in the next part of the thought. If he sees, he'll know...and I will have failed to protect him. Perhaps in the dampness of the water dripping down from his wet hair, the small tear that escaped his closed eyes would go unnoticed. Cut off from that last anchor of hope, Watari felt himself drift, even as his mouth was responding to Muraki's kiss. The other man's hands were molding tense muscles into a warm relaxed state, despite Watari's best efforts to remain on his guard. Physically and emotionally he wasn't up for it. But mentally, mentally he hung on. Like a desperate man grabbing at a thread he broke the kiss enough to ask, his lips moving against Muraki's, "Why... why did you let your touch turn from healing, to killing?"

Muraki lifted his mouth, looking down into Watari's face and this close, with Muraki leaning over him, Watari could see under the silver hair, see the eye that was slightly off, the one that wasn't a real, human eye. It gazed at him with a dispassion that seemed to bleed all the color from the world until there was no black, no white, only silver grey.

"I didn't," Muraki said softly. "I still heal. I also kill. It's not a turning from one to the other. They are the same touch. The very... same. Perhaps when we are done you will see... probably not, but perhaps. Every healer kills. It's killing to excise a cancer. A cancer is life, a living thing. Illness can come from parasites, which are also living things. The question isn't whether to kill or heal... the question is, when you kill, what are you healing?"

Bending down again, Muraki began to lick Watari's exposed skin, his neck and collarbones, but not before licking the last of that stray tear from the side of his face.

Watari bit down hard on the inside of his mouth to keep any of that stray tear's brethren from escaping and making their way down his cheek. It frightened him, more so even than Muraki's physical hold on his body, that he understood and could follow the sociopath's logic.

That is what he wants you to do, Yutaka... he wants you to follow him down into the twisted maze of his own mind. That is the very definition of sociopaths, someone who can rationalize their own anti-social behavior. Remember the pain this man has caused, needless pain... Tsuzuki... Hisoka... Tat... A hard shudder ran through Watari, partly in response to his own thoughts and partly in response to the touch of Muraki's tongue on his sensitive exposed neck.

"Somewhere... somewhere the line blurred, Sensei... like the very cancer you spoke of. In its own way, it starts out with the best of intentions, to help the body it inhabits... but then, something happens and it runs amok, destroying the very vessel it was born to defend."

"I'm glad you understand that," Muraki murmured approvingly and he nuzzled the other side of Watari's neck. "It will make what we have to do so much easier."

And his hands eased from Watari's neck and shoulders, one hand supporting him in the water and the other of the doctor's large, skillful hands drifting down in the water to graze Watari's stomach and then his thigh, sliding along its inner surface.

Watari cursed inwardly when he didn't quite manage to keep from jumping a little at the intimate touch of Muraki's hand to his thigh. It had been a long, a very long time since anyone had touched him like that and he was torn between relaxing and just enjoying the touch and reminding himself of the multiple reasons he should be anything but relaxed.

The young shinigami could feel his wits trying to desert him beneath the dual stimuli of the physical sensation and his own upended emotions. Loosing track of who he was with and the nature of the game now would not be a wise thing and Watari fought to keep his attention on the conversation he was having with the doctor as well as the basic rules of their game.

Reaching one hand up, in a blind gesture, slender fingers well equipped for the often delicate work he performed both as an engineer and as the Meifu medical guru, touched lightly against the naked skin of Muraki's chest. They bounced back, as if burned, but then tentatively made their way back, until Watari had his palm resting very lightly against the doctor's left pectoral muscles, fingers beginning a delicate exploration of skin and muscle.

Talk, Yutaka keep talking. The scientist reminded himself sternly. "You mean the two deaths you spoke of?" Watari's voice was soft, slightly breathless but there was little he could do to rectify the situation.

"Perhaps," Muraki murmured his answer slightly muffled as he continued to occupy himself with licking and nuzzling Watari's neck and shoulders. His hand stroked down along the length of the shinigami's inner thigh, then slowly back up. Down... then up. Down... up... On the high point, the doctor's fingertips barely brushed Watari's scrotum, so lightly it was like the water moving against him. Then the next time, they brushed a little more, distinctly fingertips, infringing little by little like waves on the shore. And with each repetition, Watari's circulatory system began redirecting its volume. He felt the heat flooding into his lap as his cock stirred and began to fill.

Shifting his attention from Watari's neck and shoulder to wander across his chest, Muraki's lips brushed over one nipple, then brushed back... the tip of a warm, wet tongue probed at it, withdrew... then returned, circling. Lips closed over the now erect bud, teeth teased it and suction began.

The scientist felt his emotions fluctuate between pleasure and revulsion as Muraki's skillful touch, both from his hands and from his mouth, coaxed a response from Watari's body. As he felt his cock begin to swell as a result of those teasing brushes of the doctor's fingertips, revulsion won out.

Revulsion at himself.

Grasping the pain, the fear, the sense of isolation, the self-doubt... grasping all the emotions that were rioting about in his head and thrusting them ruthlessly to the side, Watari forced himself to put his focus on the game. The game he needed to, if not win, at least play better than he was at the moment. The game he needed to stop being so squeamish about. He'd made a promise. He'd struck a deal with the devil and now he was letting the devil guide the game.

If I'm going to disgust myself, I might as well do something right in the process, Watari thought furiously at himself.

And then he was moving using the buoyancy of the water to help off set the physical advantage Muraki had over him. Using surprisingly strong and well defined abdominal muscles, the scientist plunged up from the water grasping Muraki's shoulders with both hands and spinning himself around until he could pin both of the doctor's knees in between his own slender thighs, now partially astride the devil himself.

If I'm going to ride this tempest, I might as well be an active participant. Watari thought to himself. The dark, angry humor made his eyes brighten as he focused his gaze on Muraki's face.

The doctor gazed back, the beginnings of another slow smile on his attractive face. He'd shed his own glasses before getting into the bath. Watari's movement caused the water to splash a little, waves to form and a few drops fell across and ran slowly down the doctor's face. "Yes...?"

The young shinigami arched his elegant brows before sitting back a little, using the grip he had on the doctor's knees and the water for balance. This allowed him to move his hands off Muraki's shoulder. His touch was feather light, though it had lost a lot of its tentativeness. Watari used neatly trimmed nails to raise small lines on Muraki's pale skin watching the path his hands took as he continued to map the doctor's powerful chest.

"I made a bargain with you. Somehow, I don't think my just lying there would be considered holding up my end of the deal. Besides, if we're going to do this... why should I let you have all the fun?" Watari firmly tamped down on the small voice that whispered in the corner of his mind, why not enjoy yourself on your downward spiral?

Muraki's smile widened. "As long as you understand that I *was* having fun. And you were hardly just laying there... or were you unaware of your expression... the small sounds you were making... the thumping of your heart was about to deafen me," he said, such obvious pleasure in the description that he ended by licking his lips.

Watari felt a sensation that he imagined must be akin to the split second of awareness one might feel before their heart imploded in their chest, disintegrating to nothing. His hands stilled on Muraki's chest and ever muscle in his body tensed as nerve endings sang with the desire to thrust away from the monster he straddled. Thrust away and run for safety, for sanity... for Tatsumi.

The scientist clenched his back molars together so tightly he thought it possible that he might crack them. A twitch ran through Watari's body, like an electrical shock, as he forcefully told those flight instincts to stand down. Instead of running, as wisdom dictated, he leaned forward very carefully, turning his head to the side so that his wet hair cascaded along one shoulder, away from Muraki's face. Instead of answering the doctor's tormenting words, the young shinigami placed his lips, very softly against the side of the other man's jaw. Watari's nimble tongue darted out to lap at the moisture trailing along the well defined bone, following the water's path back up along Muraki's face until, Watari was nibbling teasingly at the corner of the man's mouth.

Muraki lifted his chin just slightly, not turning towards Watari's tantalizing touch, not moving away from it. He seemed to sense that Watari wanted to control the situation. He didn't make any overt moves to take control back rather he literally leaned back, giving the blond free rein. But his eyes never closed. They watched Watari, and it seemed as if he were observing to derive pleasure from the view one minute, and the next, observing to catalog every action, every response in some infinite data bank to be used later.

I should stop. I should go back to ... to just ... being a passive participant. That would be... explainable right? I could victimize myself then. Watari's shoulders jerked a little as he chuffed with a hint of laughter at himself. You tossed that luxury out the window, Yutaka. Best embrace what you have left and focus on what you're doing...

What am I doing?

Watari growled inwardly at himself and forced his body to move carefully, gently even as he released his hold on Muraki's knees and floated his own weight back. Shifting forward, till he rested very lightly, chest to chest with the doctor, the shinigami began to lay light kisses along the mortal man's neck. Hands now braced on either side of Muraki's shoulders, fingers clenching the edge of the bath Watari angled his gentle touches around till he was at the base of Muraki's throat. Once there, he closed his teeth very carefully, yet firmly around the doctor's Adam's apple, the tip of his tongue lashing against the masculine bump.

The bump vibrated a little as Muraki chuckled softly. It would be so easy for Watari to close his teeth in a sudden bite, crushing the larynx, drowning Muraki in his own blood, and the doctor was aware of it. "What interesting games you play, Yutaka-kun," he murmured, arching his neck back to offer even more of the vulnerable area.

His hands floated in the water, drifting together until they closed on either side of Watari's torso and then the fingers began slowly stroking, exploring along each flank. There was nothing about the man that was in a hurry - absolutely nothing.

The scientist was aware of Muraki's infinite patience and while it annoyed him, he was forced to the same, unhurried pace. He was also aware of the apparently vulnerable position he had Muraki in. His jaw ached to clamp down and part of Watari's mind wondered if he physically was capable of tearing out Muraki's throat but he let go of both urges. Even if he were to somehow succeed, there was little to be gained at this juncture in making the attempt and still way too much to lose.

Drawing his teeth slowly back and forth across the exposed skin, Watari let Muraki know that the thought had crossed his mind. Then he withdrew his hold on the doctor's throat, pressing an almost tender kiss against the vulnerable larynx. Watari moved downwards, exploring the hollow at the base of Muraki's throat, lapping at the moisture gathered there, teasing pale skin with his tongue even as he tease his own body by moving within the hold of those large, deft hands. As he sank deeper into the water, his hair began to spread out adding its own soft, tickling caress as it wound around Muraki's upper torso.

The soft stroking of Muraki's hands lulled Watari as he kissed the doctor's skin, which was very smooth, very fine-grained, hinting at aristocratic blood. The odd swirls of white across it were more evident up close, direction in the way they marked his skin almost invisibly, and the faintest of textures to them that Watari could feel under his lips and tongue only because the skin they covered was itself so smooth.

Lulled and relaxing, at least in some part, Watari didn't realize when Muraki's hands went from stroking to slowly sliding along his skin as the doctor wound his strong arms around Watari's torso. When the hold was secure, Muraki moved under Watari, not suddenly but inexorably, holding the shinigami against him and turning them both until Watari found himself on his back in the water, supported by those incredibly strong arms, with Muraki bending over him.

"Don't worry, I'll give you your playtime again," he murmured. "If you really want it," that had an undercurrent of wry, cool humor. "But little by little... damnation shouldn't come so quickly, should it? The bath water is cooling. Unless we warm it, it will become unhealthful."

Without waiting for a comment or protest, Muraki covered Watari's mouth with his own, opening his lips for the deepest, most powerful kiss thus far. Where before he'd sucked Watari's tongue into his mouth, this time the invasion was Muraki's, penetrating deeply as he fucked Watari's mouth with his tongue so skillfully that it sent the blood racing through the shinigami's body like a sudden torrent.

He had been nibbling along a collarbone when it had sunk in what Muraki's arms were doing. As the mortal man had lifted him, the natural thing had been to tangle his legs in around Muraki's trying to maintain some semblance of his own balance, though he realized he would be in jeopardy of an undignified dunk were the doctor to release him.

Muraki's words should not have surprised him. They pinched a little, but were effective reminders of just what this game meant to his opponent. Forcing himself to relax in Muraki's hold, he had been about to comment when the doctor's mouth closed over his and the deep, intimate kiss began.

It was a breath-stealing caress and Watari felt an intense wave of self-loathing race through his body along with the heated response of his blood. He brought his hands up as if to grab at Muraki's shoulders and push him away, that was what he wanted to do, but logic cold, hard, scientific logic overruled his panic. Instead, he waited till he had the rhythm of Muraki's thrusts and then began to return the kiss, with a deftness that perhaps surprised the doctor, or perhaps not.

Muraki allowed, in fact cooperated with Watari's return for a little while, then he lifted his head, looking down into golden eyes. "You can't simply relax, can you?" he murmured. "Your self-loathing drives you to flagellate yourself with participation. Guilt is the leash Enma Daioh selects his shinigamis for...." He gazed down, watching Watari with an almost compassionate expression. His eyes however were cool and distant.

The water that dripped from both the natural and the artificial grey eyes was also cool, ignored as if it didn't exist.

Watari made himself focus on those distant eyes. He knew Muraki was skillful enough to manipulate his face into any expression he desired, the way an actor could put on any mask of his choice depending upon the scene. He held the doctor's eyes for a long beat, then skipped his own gaze off to a point just past the mortal man's shoulders then back.

"Was there a question in there? Or were you content with your own conclusion?" Watari's voice was still soft though perhaps slightly roughened. His accent a tad more pronounced as a result of the arousal the doctor had coaxed out of him.

Muraki's mouth slowly curved, even as a last few cool drops spattered Watari's face gently. "It's not a conclusion, rather an intuition," he said. "Very well, if you prefer to enjoy this as little as possible... and of course you do... spread you legs apart for me."

Amber eyes, burnished gold with emotion locked on the doctor's face and Watari did something a little strange. He released the grip one of his hands had on Muraki's arm and brought his fingers up towards the pale, attractive features hovering over him. Tracing the fine, high born bone structure with a tender touch, Watari's lips curled upwards slightly in an enigmatic grin.

"First you chastise me for my participation, then you ask for it. Which is it to be, Sensei?"

"Spread your legs apart for me."

Watari's instinctive response to the situation was to try to bluff his way with another question back at the doctor. It was just one of his ingrained responses to such situations, but something, something this time stopped the words in his throat. Perhaps it was the look in Muraki's eyes or the tone of his voice or the phrasing of his command, but something in the exchange cracked its way through Watari's shell and drove a bolt of fear into his heart.

He lay on his back half supported by the water, caught in what could only be termed an intimate embrace and, for what he feared would not be the last time, he felt terror. He'd been one breath, one passage of air across his vocal