Right around here is where I totally made up Tsuzuki's back story. ^^
Chapter Five
For a long second, no one moves. Muraki is standing against one wall, leaning against it slightly in a pose that might seem arrogant under other circumstances. But if he’s feeling anything near the way I do, he needs that wall to keep his balance. Oriya is frozen in the doorway, where he presumably came to see what was going on. Tsuzuki just stands there and stares, and I’m a few steps behind him, unable to move.
“T-Tousan . . .” he finally manages. And that seems to be all he can manage, for the moment.
His father smiles, apparently pleased that Tsuzuki recognizes him. “Long time no see,” he says, and in that smile I can almost see Tsuzuki’s cheerful grin. “It’s been . . . what . . . eighty-one years or so?”
Tsuzuki flinches and I make an attempt to do quick math. He had been a Shinigami for seventy years when I first met him, and that was three years ago. He was twenty-six when he died. So if they last saw each other eighty-one years ago, that would have been . . . when Tsuzuki was eighteen.
Eighteen. Just before he got put into the hospital he died in. No one knows -- or at least, no one ever told me -- what happened to Tsuzuki to send him into that catatonic state. Tsuzuki doesn’t even remember. But from the look in his eyes, he’s remembering now.
I reach out and brush my hand against his, so quietly that no one else notices.
//fear
pain
“Stay away from me! Just leave me alone! You’re not my father!”//
I snatch my hand back, away from the turmoil inside him. Still, no one moves. The ice that this man (?) emanates has frozen over us all. Even Tsuzuki can’t seem to move.
“Yes,” he finally whispers. “Eighty-one years.”
His father laughs softly. “You’ve hardly changed a bit since then,” he says casually, as if he’s totally unaware of the effect he’s having on us. Somehow I doubt that. “Whoever would have thought you would become a Shinigami?” His eyes narrow suddenly. “After they kept me imprisoned for so long . . .”
Tsuzuki has started to shake. It’s just a tiny shivering in his hands, unnoticed by everyone but me, but only for now.
His father’s eyes turn to me. So purple. So cold. “And who’s this?”
Tsuzuki manages to get hold of himself again. “Kurosaki Hisoka,” he says, and I can tell it’s an effort for him to keep his voice even. “My . . .” He catches the icy glint in his father’s eyes and swallows hard. “My lover.”
Interesting that he didn’t say husband. I’m not mad about it, just curious.
“And this?” His eyes swing to Muraki. He ignores Oriya as if he’s not even present. Now I’ve started to shake too.
Tsuzuki’s voice is brief and clipped short. “Muraki Kazutaka.”
His father’s eyes dart to him. “He has displeased you.”
Tsuzuki stares at him, then manages a numb nod.
“Why have you not taken care of him?” he asks in interest. Tsuzuki’s shaking is obvious now. It’s so cold. It looks like even Muraki is starting to shiver. My eyes drift over to the thermostat to see that it’s still room temperature. The chill is entirely mental, emotional.
“I . . .” Tsuzuki’s voice falters.
His father nods. “I see.”
I don’t know what he sees, because I sure as hell don’t see anything, but I’m somehow not surprised when the man (he’s not a man, he can’t be a man) marches over to Muraki, puts one hand around his neck, and lifts him up, pinning him to the wall. Muraki makes a little choked noise of surprise, as if it takes him a second to realize that Tsuzuki’s father is strangling the life out of him. Oriya makes a move as if to go to him, then falls to his knees, shaking uncontrollably.
//It’s been so long . . .//
It’s a free-floating thought, which I don’t usually pick up, but the intensity of it brings it through. I glance up at the man’s face to see twisted joy on it -- joy that’s seeping into my very being. He’s so happy to be able to kill again. It’s so cold and I can’t think I can’t feel all I can feel is his pleasure knifing through me he’s so powerful that his mind presses up against mine until I can’t escape
to hurt to kill to bring pain of any kind that’s all he wants and if I can’t get him out of my head it’s going to be all I want too
and it doesn’t matter that it’s Muraki he’s killing I just want him to stop
stop
STOP
“Stop him, please . . .” I’m on my knees, which is funny because I don’t remember falling. Tugging on Tsuzuki’s pant leg and sobbing from the cold. “Please, please, make him stop . . . make him stop . . .”
He glances over at Tsuzuki, and I see Tsuzuki make a barely perceptible nod. The man shrugs and drops Muraki to the ground. That killing cold abates and I can breathe again.
What is he?
Oriya crawls over to Muraki now, shaking him. He lets out a relieved sigh when Muraki groans, lifting one hand to his throat. I can see claw marks on it, but when I look at Tsuzuki’s father, he has no claws.
“Why?” he asks me.
I just shake my head. My voice has frozen along with the rest of me.
He shrugs and turns to Tsuzuki. “Time to go, Asato-kun.”
Tsuzuki just stares at him, but those words free my voice. “Go?” I ask, and my voice cracks in panic. “Go where? Where are you taking him?”
“It’s none of your concern,” he says, and smiles at me. I’m caught, mesmerized by those eyes. Amethyst covered with frost. “But I suggest you say your goodbyes. You won’t be seeing him again.”
“No!” I lurch to my feet, grab hold of Tsuzuki’s arm. “No! You can’t . . . you can’t take him away from me . . .”
He still just looks at me, and I can feel myself freezing, going colder and colder until I can’t move. I just can’t. Even to save Tsuzuki, I can’t. My fingers loosen from around his arm. Tsuzuki is still looking blank-eyed, gone into shock at what’s happening around him. Remembering something from eighty-one years ago.
“Jaa ne,” the man says, and both he and Tsuzuki abruptly disappear, with nothing but a rush of wind to explain their absence.
All I can do is sink to my knees.
Muraki sits up, still rubbing his throat with one hand. “You saved me,” he says, coughing slightly, his eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Why? There’s really no way to explain it, no way to say that I was losing myself in the evil that was that thing’s mind. No way to say that he could have been killing anyone, and I would have reacted the same. It wasn’t Muraki’s death that I objected to -- it was the pleasure he took in causing it.
“I-I . . .” Good start. “He was . . .”
Muraki shakes his head impatiently. “Never mind that. I think there’s something important you neglected to tell us, boy.”
I manage a laugh that seems shaky and I know must sound like I’m bordering on hysterics. Which I’m not. I’m well on my way into hysterics. “More like something Tsuzuki neglected to tell me . . .”
“What . . .” Oriya’s voice trembles and he looks exceedingly displeased at himself for it. “What was that thing?”
“Tsuzuki’s father,” is the only explanation I can come up with.
“A demon of some sort,” Muraki says, his face creased in a frown as he thinks. “An exceptionally powerful one.” He glances at me. “I told Tsuzuki he had demon blood in him. He didn’t believe me.”
“He knew,” I whispered. “He just didn’t want to admit it. I’ve known that for ages . . . even since before Kyoto.” Yet I told him that he was human. Because he was, when and where it counted. There may be demon blood in him, but he isn’t a demon. That’s what’s important.
“What are you going to do?” Muraki asks curiously, and I can only shake my head.
“I don’t know . . . I need to talk to Tatsumi.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. He knows who Tatsumi is, but I can tell he’s wondering how I’m going to talk to him without getting myself killed. It takes me a minute to figure it out myself.
“I need time . . . I need to rest, to sleep, so I can talk to Akimiya . . .”
How I’m going to sleep after this is beyond me, but I have to try. Akimiya can get the information I need. Tatsumi will know where that thing took Tsuzuki. He has to know.
I lie down on the bed Tsuzuki and I were sharing less than half an hour previous. I hate it when things happen so quickly. The bed is still warm to the touch, and I force myself to curl up underneath the blankets. I stare at the wall for about ten minutes before Muraki comes in and offers me a mug of something.
“What is it?” I ask suspiciously.
“It’s tea,” he says calmly. “With a sedative.” He catches my look and says, “If I wanted to poison you, I would’ve done it a hundred times already. And it wouldn’t kill you anyway. Drink the tea. If you need to sleep, this will do it.”
I hate him for being right, but drink the tea anyway. And then I glare at him until he goes away.
It doesn’t take long to fall asleep after that. Drift into dreams thinking of Akimiya. It’s no surprise that he shows up almost immediately. “What is it?” he asks urgently, apparently alarmed by my call. “What’s wrong?”
I’m sure as hell not explaining all this at once. “I need to talk to Tatsumi,” I say. “You can stay for it if you like, but it’s important. Can you . . . I don’t know, pull him in somehow?”
He gives me a funny look. “Of course.” Funny, I suppose, because I’ve seen him do it before. “Even Tatsumi sleeps, and I think four in the morning is probably the best time to try, ne?” He smiles slightly and then for a brief minute he’s gone.
When he comes back, Tatsumi is with him. “What is it, Kurosaki-kun?” he asks quietly. Either he knows what’s going on, or is assuming that something’s wrong since I asked for him.
“Do you know anything about this man?” Akimiya obligingly pulls up my memory of the man and gives it physical form, a little hologram that we can walk around. Interesting . . . in the metaphorical form, he has wings. Large, black, skeletal wings. No feathers. Not even a membrane connecting the bones like in bat wings.
Tatsumi glances at the figure, then pushes his glasses up on his nose. “Yes. That’s Ryuushi . . . Tsuzuki-san’s father.”
“Thank you for that singularly worthless piece of information,” I snap. If there was something to kick, I’d be kicking it right now. “I know that much. The question is, what is he?”
Tatsumi sighs slightly and the figure of Ryuushi vanishes. “He’s a blood demon,” he says slowly. “Do you know what that is?”
I shake my head. “I know the theory behind them . . . aren’t they like vampires?”
“Yes and no,” Tatsumi said. “They do drink human blood, and gain power from it. But they aren’t killed by sunlight or stakes. They’re notoriously hard to kill, in fact. And the extremely powerful ones don’t have to drink blood . . . they merely have to draw blood, and they can absorb your energy from it.”
“So he was a blood demon.” That would explain the claw marks on Muraki’s neck. Well, I’ve got no objection to someone sucking up some of Muraki’s power, but still.
“Yes. And . . .” Tatsumi hesitates. “He’s a prince of Hell.”
I feel like all the bones just went out of my legs. Akimiya catches me as I sag to the ground. Saagatanasu was . . . what, a general of the Makai? Serving a duke? Given how powerful he was, how powerful would a prince be? Ten times? Fifty times?
“Why did he come?” I ask weakly. “Tatsumi, just give me the whole story. Please.”
Tatsumi settles onto one of the chairs that has appeared. Akimiya helps me into one of them. “This is a complicated story,” Tatsumi warns me. “I doubt that even Tsuzuki-san knows all of it; I learned about it in my free time.” He rubs the bridge of his nose as if he has a headache. “About a century ago, Ryuushi, who was then a very powerful demon, had the . . . misfortune . . . to bear a son.”
I bristle at that comment, but Tatsumi holds up a hand to stop me.
“I say misfortune because it was, to Tsuzuki-san’s mother, in any case. The union was . . . shall we say . . . somewhat less than voluntary.”
Great. Tsuzuki’s not only a demon, he’s the product of a rape. Let’s make sure he never finds out about that.
“Ryuushi intended to take the child back to Hell with him, to raise him up to rule at his right-hand. Unfortunately, Tsuzuki-san’s mother took exception to this. She was a powerful magician herself, which was why Ryuushi had picked her. She put a strong warding spell on the boy and dumped him at an orphanage. When Ryuushi came to her, demanding to know what she’d done with their son, she refused to tell him.”
I’m caught up in the story, despite my worry for Tsuzuki. “What happened to her?”
“He killed her,” Tatsumi says flatly. “But he couldn’t find Tsuzuki-san. It took him eighteen years to break the warding spell and locate his son. Tsuzuki-san was in school at the time. You know about his childhood, I assume?”
“I know that he was persecuted and tormented, if that’s what you mean,” I say wearily.
He nods. “He was . . . not popular. To put it mildly. In any case, Ryuushi then made an appearance. He told Tsuzuki-san to come with him to Hell, and they would destroy the dimensional barrier -- merging Chijou and Hell. He was told he could have revenge against everyone who had ever hurt him.”
Tatsumi sighs slightly. “But you know Tsuzuki-san . . . even being tortured by them, he still cared for them. He wanted to be human. So he wouldn’t go.
“Ryuushi tried to force him. They got into a fight. In the end, the entire school campus he was on had been destroyed . . . almost a thousand people killed.”
I stare at him. “Ryuushi . . .”
Tatsumi shakes his head. “No. Not Ryuushi.”
I choke back tears. “Tell me.”
“Do you know why Tsuzuki-san has so many Shikigami?” Tatsumi asks quietly. It feels like he’s changing the subject, but somehow I don’t think he is. So instead, I just shake my head. He continues with, “Have you ever seen Tsuzuki-san fight with his own powers?”
I have to stop and think about that. I’m not sure I have. Defensive actions, yes . . . like the barrier ofuda he gave to me on our first assignment, freezing people in place, some minor telekinesis . . . “No. I don’t think so.”
“The reason Tsuzuki-san has so many Shikigami is because he can never use his own powers,” Tatsumi says. “He’s too powerful. When he was fighting Ryuushi . . . he panicked. And in doing so unleashed the demon side of himself. The resulting explosion leveled more than a city block.”
I can only stare at him.
“That amount of power going through an untrained mind nearly destroyed him,” Tatsumi continues softly. “In the end, it almost shattered his mind. But the demon side of him managed to absorb enough of the backlash that he retained some of his sanity. He was put in a hospital, where he remained for eight years. After his repeated attempts to suicide, he finally died.”
“And became a Shinigami.” I can hardly manage to hold back my tears. “Penance for the hundreds of people he killed.”
Tatsumi bows his head slightly. “Yes. Penance.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” I protest.
“I know,” Tatsumi says sharply. “It wasn’t my decision. Some said he should go straight to hell. But that couldn’t be allowed.”
“Because . . .?”
“Because we knew if he ever met up with Ryuushi again . . .”
“That’s a thought,” I say suddenly. “Ryuushi said something about having been imprisoned by the Shinigami. What’s that about?”
“After the fight in which Tsuzuki-san nearly blasted him off the face of the planet,” Tatsumi says, “Ryuushi was significantly weakened. The Shinigami were able to capture him and imprison him.”
“And why didn’t you just kill him?” I ask.
“As I said, blood demons are hard to kill,” Tatsumi says. “No one had the power and the knowledge of exactly how to do it. If that direct an explosion hadn’t killed him, we didn’t know what would.”
I nod slowly. “So Tsuzuki became a Shinigami. Was he told?”
“No,” Tatsumi says. “Tsuzuki-san had no memory of his father or of the destruction he had caused. We let it rest.”
“So what the hell is the bastard doing wandering around now?” I demand.
“He escaped,” Tatsumi says through clenched teeth. “We don’t know how or why or even when.”
“Well, I think why is pretty obvious,” I say quietly. “Because he just showed up here and ran off with Tsuzuki.”
Tatsumi swears under his breath. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him do so. “Did Tsuzuki-san go willingly?”
“He seemed to be in shock,” I say, then venture, “I think his memory was returning.”
Tatsumi looks pained. “I’m sure Ryuushi has taken up his plan to merge the two dimensions . . . and is now probably out to destroy the entire JuohCho while he’s at it. He’s got enough reason to hate us, and thanks to recent events, Tsuzuki-san does too.”
“Tsuzuki would never . . .” I protest, until I remember Tsuzuki smiling sweetly and saying he would call down Touda and burn down the entire world to stay with me.
“Ryuushi’s undoubtedly taken him to Hell,” Tatsumi muses. “As he threatened to do twice before. It would be impossible to recover him now.”
“They’ll destroy the world,” I say softly.
Tatsumi pushes his glasses up on his nose. “Most likely.”
I swear at him, softly and thoroughly and using the whole extent of my vocabulary.
“I doubt that will help,” Tatsumi says.
“How can you be so calm?” Akimiya asks him, and I jump. He’s been so quiet, I’d nearly forgotten he was there. “This is the end of the world we’re talking about here!”
“I don’t believe Tsuzuki-san will do it,” he says, with great conviction that I wish I felt.
I don’t feel it, though. But I know what I have to do.
“Tatsumi.”
He glances at me.
“I’m going to go get Tsuzuki.”
Akimiya gapes at me. “But he’s in Hell.”
“Yes,” I say softly. “I’m aware of that.”
Tatsumi shakes his head at me. “You’ll never make it. Hell is a maze, and it’s guarded by demons. You don’t even have any information on how it’s designed.”
I smile at him viciously. “Well, then,” I say, “I guess you’d better tell me everything you know.”
He looks at me intently. “You honestly intend to do this.”
I nod.
Silence.
“All right,” he finally says. “I’ll tell you what I know. But it isn’t much. Hell has five levels. And before you ask, I don’t know what any of them are or what any of them are like. Theoretically, they parallel the levels of death -- but I have no idea what that means. All I know is that demons can skip levels, but regular spirits have to descend in order until they reach the inner level -- undoubtedly where Ryuushi and Tsuzuki-san are going to be. I don’t know how to go about descending.”
“That’s all?” I ask, when he falls silent.
“That’s all I know.” He gives me a look. “I’ve never been to Hell. And nobody that I know of has ever returned from it.”
“How do I get in?”
“There are transfer points. Magical hotspots. I can give you directions to one.” Thank God, at least he knows that much. “Where are you?”
Pause. “Kyoto.”
He blinks at me. “Why on earth are you -- no, never mind. There are plenty in Kyoto.” I listen to the directions and repeat them all back to make sure I’ve got them.
“It’s dangerous,” he says. “You shouldn’t go alone.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say with a sigh.
“One more thing,” he says. “This is important -- if you die in Hell, you will remain in Hell. There’s nothing that anyone can do to get you out.”
I nod. “All right.”
There’s not much to be said after that. Tatsumi departs, leaving Akimiya and I standing in the Dreamscape.
“I was going to contact you anyway,” he says softly. “I had a Dream about you last night.”
I stiffen. If Akimiya is bothering to mention it, he must think -- or know -- that it’s a prophetic dream. “What was it?”
He shakes his head. “It was confusing. I think I understand it a little better now, but I still don’t quite see . . . anyway, you and Tsuzuki were running for a door, but it shut before you could get through. You were trapped on opposite sides. Then I saw someone who looked like Tsuzuki but wasn’t. His eyes were purple, but they glowed red. And then . . . the world caught fire.”
I try to figure that out and have relatively little luck. “What the hell does all that mean?” I snap.
“I don’t know,” he says helplessly. “Sometimes the dreams work on metaphors, sometimes they don’t. All I can say is that you’ll know when you get there.”
“Fat lot of good that does me,” I snarl. All right, I’m upset.
He sighs. “Hisoka . . . be all right. Okay? I don’t know if I’ll be able to contact you once you’re gone . . . I’ve never tried to reach beyond a dimensional barrier before.”
That makes me think, and I realize my bond with Tsuzuki is cut off. Not gone, it’s just like a cord that runs up against a wall and stops. I guess that until I’m in Hell, I won’t be able to feel his presence again. All the more reason to get going.
“I’ll try my best,” I say with a wan smile.
It’s a fight to wake up, going against the sedative like that, but I manage. It’s dawn. Probably around five or five thirty. I struggle out of bed, still dazed and wavering. Muraki and Oriya are sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea. “Well?” Muraki asks, trying to sound disinterested.
I wobble over and sit down next to them. “That was Ryuushi. He’s a blood demon and a prince of Hell.”
Oriya’s hands still in the act of pouring me a cup of tea, then continue.
“He’s taken Tsuzuki to Hell.” My voice cracks. I’m only now realizing the ramifications of what I decided to do. “He’s going to try to use Tsuzuki to break the dimensional barrier between Hell and Chijou.”
“Why Tsuzuki-san?” Muraki asks. “He’s obviously more powerful than his son.”
“Because . . . I think . . . Tatsumi said that much power can tear someone apart. I think he’d rather it be Tsuzuki than himself.” Tatsumi didn’t mention that, but it’s the only explanation I can think of. Otherwise, he would have done it a long time ago. He’s powerful enough to do it, but it would be a suicide mission. So he’ll talk Tsuzuki into doing it for him.
“So what now?” Oriya asks.
“I’m going into Hell to get Tsuzuki back.”
They both blink at me.
“And you’re coming with me.” I look up and meet Muraki’s gaze squarely. I may hate the man, but he’s damn powerful, and against Ryuushi I’ll need someone.
He raises an eyebrow. “Am I, now?”
I nod. “I won’t survive alone. You’re more powerful than me, and I . . .” I bite my lip and force myself to say it. “I’ll need your help.”
“And why should I?” he asks.
“Surely even you can understand the consequences if Ryuushi breaks the boundaries between here and Hell,” I snap. “Besides, I saved your life. You owe me a favor.”
“I saved your life once,” he points out.
It takes me a minute to remember when. Right, that damn demon that I fought badly. “Muraki, you killed me. And you’ve continuously tried to kill me again. The one time you’ve saved my life doesn’t really count for much in comparison.”
“He’s got a point,” Oriya observes dryly.
“I’ll make a deal with you, boy,” Muraki says slowly.
I want to protest, but I’m in no position to bargain. And Muraki knows it, damn it. “What is it?”
“In return for saving my life, I’ll stop trying to kill you.” He sees my eyes narrow in displeasure and adds, “I’ll also go with you to find Tsuzuki-san . . . if you’ll help me find another resident of Hell.”
“Who?”
“Shindo Saki.”
I’m too tired and terrified to ask who the hell that is and why Muraki wants to find him. I’m not sure I would care under any circumstances. “Are you sure he’s in Hell?”
Muraki’s eyes glint. “Oh, yes,” he says softly. “I’m sure.”
Whatever. I don’t care anymore. He’ll come, and that’s all that matters. “Deal. You help me find Tsuzuki, and I’ll help you find Saki.”
“Agreed.” He reaches out for my hand, and I shake it. I still hate him, but I also need him right now. It irks me. But Tsuzuki, wherever he is, is counting on me. “I’ll go make some preparations.”
I don’t know what he has to do, but I don’t particularly care. He stands and walks out.
“Who is Shindo Saki?” I ask Oriya, sipping my tea.
He doesn’t even look up. “Muraki’s half-brother. And before you ask, yes, he deserves everything that Muraki is going to do to him.”
I hesitate. “That thing you said to me . . . last time . . . you said that every madman has his reasons for what he does.”
He laughs. “I’m surprised you remember that. It was more than a year ago.”
“Is Saki Muraki’s reason?”
His nod is slight, almost nonexistent.
I just look at him. “Why do you care about him?” I ask, trying to keep the contempt out of my voice. “Don’t you know what he is?”
“Yes,” Oriya says quietly, and meets my gaze evenly. “Do you?”
I think back to Tsubaki-hime, to arguing with her about how we both thought that the other didn’t know Muraki at all. Is it even remotely possible that the man has a good side? That there’s something worth caring about in him?
Oriya sighs, seeing my incredulous look. “You don’t understand,” he says quietly.
“I think I do.” Of all the people to be having a heart to heart with, Oriya was not on the list of expected. “Tsuzuki . . . Tsuzuki is half blood demon, and he killed hundreds of people . . . he has the power to destroy the world . . . but even knowing that, I don’t love him any less. I don’t think I could ever stop loving him, no matter what happened.”
Oriya puts down his mug, but says nothing.
“Why do you care about him?” I whisper. I don’t know why I want to know, but I do. I have to know.
“Because . . .” Oriya hesitates, and sighs. “Because, when I first met him, he wasn’t that much different from you.”
He stands up and leaves the room.
Muraki walks back in before I’ve fully digested that statement. “Are you ready to go?”
I get to my feet. “Aa. As ready as I’ll ever be.”
~~~~
Chapter Six
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