Double Faced Mask
A Yami no Matsuei fanficAuthor: Ria
Disclaimer: YnM is copyright to several people, such as Yoko Matsushita and Hakusensha. It�s not mine and never will be, considering I�m just a college student struggling with a part-time job because she�s so broke. Suing me would be rather pointless. I just do this because I love to and hopefully to give others some enjoyment, too.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: The anime and the first few volumes of the manga.
Pairings: Tsuzuki/Hisoka, Tatsumi/Watari
Warnings: angst, memories of NCS and mind-rape, eventual shounen-ai, faint hints of rape and NC
Summary: Tsuzuki angsts and Hisoka�s logical (but still dense) about their situation. Then Watari gets in on the act to deliver some advice, dragging a helpless Tatsumi along for the ride�
Timeline: A few months after the Kyoto arc in the anime with some stuff from the manga thrown in for good measure. If you�ve seen the anime, you�ll be fine. If you�ve seen both, you�ll be great!
Author�s Notes: So, we're back to Tsuzuki! We learn more about the case, as well as get some disturbing insight into the person behind them! Please pay attention to the warnings for this chapter! *g* Enjoy! Lyrics are from �Take my Hand� by Dido, and aren�t mine.
Double Faced Mask
Cold Rage Touch my skin and tell me what you�re thinking
Take my hand and show me where we�re going
Lie down next to me, look into my eyes
And tell me, oh, tell me what you�re seeing
I find myself unable to stop looking at him out of the corner of my eye, and I think he knows why. But he doesn�t seem to mind.
Being back at Nagasaki was difficult, at first, but at the same time it wasn�t. I joked at how much things had changed between is since the last time we were here and Hisoka eventually smiled, though he didn�t seem to find it all that funny. To be honest, neither did I.
But Muraki seems to lurk in every shadow, behind every unfamiliar face, and the threat of necromancy hangs darkly in the air. Every clue that we�ve found seems to link to someone tampering with life, death and redemption, and to be quite frank, it�s hitting far too close to home.
I absently rub the strap of my watch, refusing to look down at it. I wanted to die again and again and again, but couldn�t. Would having my spirit trapped in my dead body be any different?
But in the end, I did die, after all.
�Oi, baka!� A hand waving in front of my face brings me back to reality. I blink and finally register Hisoka standing in front of me, a patiently disgruntled expression on his face as he waits for me to notice him. �Ah!� I say. �I�m sorry! �
He shakes his head. �Never mind, but you are planning on having breakfast this morning, hai? Then, come on!� He turns and starts walking to the door. I blink, staring after him, before snapping out of it and running to catch up. Eh� where was my usual slap for not paying attention?
The hotel we�re staying at is huge. Well, not really, but it is when compared to the places we usually stay in. It must have killed Tatsumi for the second time to spend this much extra money, but I don�t see why he spent it in the first place. When I mentioned this to Hisoka, he looked at me in disbelief and muttered something under his breath that he wouldn�t repeat. I think I�m a bit out of the loop.
Some of the other guests recognise us when we come down; a group of teenage girls eye us slyly, their gazes appraising. Hisoka blushes; I merely smile at them. Then a guy in his early twenties gives me a similar look; I blanch, as Hisoka sniggers.
Hisoka has a plain, normal breakfast, watching in morbid fascination as I eat my way through something that probably shouldn�t be eaten until well after midday. But he seems amused by my simple contentment and that makes me smile, too.
Afterwards, we decide to wander through Nagasaki � we quickly learned that our necromancer does nothing during the day� no murders, so soul bindings, nothing. So we use the day to sightsee or, in Hisoka�s case, review what we already know about the case and try to find out more.
We eventually decide to buy the souvenir-gifts that everyone has asked us for back in the office (you�d think that they�d be happy with what we brought them the last time, but noooo�) and halfway through our shopping, I find what seems to be a little second-hand shop of everything and anything. Intrigued by the window display, I duck inside.
The stock, though second-hand, is in remarkably good condition and I soon come across what could be the perfect gift for Hisoka: a small silk painting of a window in a background of light rain and mist. And considering Hisoka�s fascination with the rain�
�What are you looking at?� Hisoka asks as he comes up behind me, his tone curious despite the automatic irritated tone.
�This!� I tell him brightly, indicating the painting. �I�m buying it for you!�
Hisoka blinks rapidly, before giving me a long stare. I normally would have started to wilt by now if I couldn�t see the blatant astonishment in his eyes. If Hisoka was more open to showing emotion, his jaw would probably by on the floor. �Me?� he asks dumbly.
I nod vigorously. �It�s for your house,� I explain. �You need to brighten it up more.� Hell, he needs clutter, for that matter. Ever since that day where I had to take Hisoka home when he collapsed from the heat, I�ve made it my personal mission to help him embrace his afterlife and consider new interests. He can�t think about only books all the time. Watari and I have been succeeding, but it�s taking time and a lot of persuading on our part.
Hisoka glares at me, a blush spreading across his cheeks. �Baka! You don�t have to buy me anything. Remember, I have firsthand experience of how you live from paycheque to paycheque.� But a small smile curls across his lips and I can tell that he�s secretly pleased. I beam and pick up the painting, turning to find where I pay. My gaze falls on something that makes my blood go cold.
I decide not to say anything when I realise that Hisoka hasn�t seen the antique doll. But even as I go up to pay, I�m unable to take my gaze off the dusty, ash-blond hair on the doll, or the vibrant green eyes that almost seem to glare at me with contempt.
I can see Muraki in my mind�s eye, cold, distant and warped in his insanity. His deep, manic laugh echoes in my memory and I shudder. He�d love to get his hands on a doll like that � it�d appeal to his terrible sense of humour.
I turn away, slowly and deliberately.
My mood brightens when we go back outside, our shopping now complete. Struck by a brainwave (if I do say so myself), I suggest dropping everything back at the hotel and spending the rest of our afternoon in the park, before getting something to eat and starting the investigation again. Hisoka gives me a hard stare and I add that he can even read if he wants.
I can�t stop myself from grinning in a probably ridiculous smile when he reluctantly agrees.
The park�s small, but it� such a beautiful day that the place is thronged. Seeing Hisoka�s face contort in horror, I take his arm and lead him to wilder, less-welcoming part. Even though it�s not cared for as immaculately as the rest of the park, the trees are still spaced apart far enough that plenty of sunlight trickles through for Hisoka to read without difficulty.
He settles down with a contented sigh, immediately pulling out a book on Japanese necromancy and sticking his nose in it. Yup, that�s Hisoka all right � unable to ever completely take his mind off the job. I settle down beside him, pausing for a moment before putting my head on his lap. He tenses for a moment � probably thinking, What on earth is he doing? � but gradually relaxes, going back to his book. Satisfied, I close my eyes and proceed to relax for the first time in days.
Silence with us is something to be treasured. With others, friendship might have to always include constant conversation, but our silence speaks volumes. We can sit and say absolutely nothing for over an hour, and it doesn�t matter. Hisoka says that my being silent for more than five minutes when I�m not brooding is a sign that I�m finally acting somewhere closer to my age. Besides, it means that he gets more time to read, so he�s not complaining.
As time trickles by, Hisoka hesitantly starts to trickle his fingers through my hair, pausing every few moments as if waiting for me to do or say something that will ruin the mood and give him an excuse to take his hand away. But I stay silent (hey, who says that I don�t have any common sense?), breathing slowly and luxuriating in the sensation of him petting my hair, and he slowly starts again.
Eventually, I find the energy to open my eyes a little so I can look up at him. His expression is serene, one that I�ve seen on his face a lot more lately, as he reads his book, his hand threading rhythmically through my hair. The sunlight coming down through the leaves makes his hair shine brighter than normal, falling in a dappled pattern on his face and clothes. As I look up at him, the sunlight seems to temporarily hide the shadows and regrets in his eyes, revealing the boy and young man he could have been if life hadn�t thrown him such a terrible hand.
On the other hand, if his life hadn�t turned out like it did, he never would have met me, so excuse me if I don�t have his best interests at heart when it comes to that past chapter of his life. Hey, we�re all a little selfish when it comes to those we love.
�Live for me,� he said in the black flames, the sudden flash of light in the darkness of my despair. �I want you to live for me!�
We�re all a little selfish when it comes to those we love.
I suddenly need to speak, to tell him a little of what I feel for him, just enough that it won�t scare him, nothing more. �Ne, Hisoka�?�
�Mmmm?� His voice is drowsy and relaxed; he�s not perturbed by my quiet interruption to the silence in the slightest.
�Can I ask you something?� My breath catches in my throat as he gently curls a strand of my hair around his finger. I�m filled with the need to hug him � to touch him � to hold him. I want to breathe in the scent of his skin and press him against me, to hear his heartbeat with my own, even though they shouldn�t beat at all.
But I don�t. I know better.
�Hai,� he says, but his tone has a slight edge to it, now. Damn, he must have picked up on something that leaked through my shields. Okay. Damage control, Tsuzuki, you can do it! But he doesn�t seem as cautious or wary as he normally is when something he doesn�t like leaks through the shields. Hey, maybe all hope isn�t lost, after all!
�If there was something� important you wanted to tell someone � hypothetically, of course,� I add quickly, �but you weren�t sure how they�d react� would you still tell them?� I�ve probably given myself away by tacking on the hypothetically speaking part � Hisoka�s no fool, after all � but I can�t being myself to care, at this point.
He gives me a measuring look, his eyes calculating, but his voice is at its usual tone when he speaks. �How important do you consider what you have to tell this person to be?�
�Very important!� I reply. Well, I do consider my feelings to be very important.
�I�d tell him, then. If you put what you have to say the right way, this person�s reaction should be fine,� Hisoka says. His expression and tone seem to be expectant, like he�s waiting for me to tell him something. I sigh mentally. Of course he knows how I feel about him � everyone knows how I feel about him! But� I can�t tell him now� I can�t�
The moment passes and his eyes darken, the semi-hopeful expression in them dying. Panic suddenly floods through me as my chest tightens. I can�t let things end like this!
My hand reaches us before I even realise that I�ve moved it, my fingertips hovering over the smooth skin of his cheek. Shaving for Hisoka is something to be done because he sometimes can, not the necessity that it is for the rest of us. I tell him he should be grateful, but he doesn�t really believe me. He regrets never having the chance to enter adulthood; me, I consider the whole responsible adult fa�ade to be somewhat overrated. It�s something we agree to disagree on.
He stares at me with wide eyes as I gently stroke his cheek, before he slowly reaches up and cups his hand over mine. I hold his gaze, a smile flickering over my lips that he hesitantly returns. He closes his eyes and pulls my hand down to his mouth so he can place a kiss on my palm.
It�s my turn to stare at him with wide eyes as he slowly opens his and smiles at me. My hand�s gone limp by now, but he�s still holding it. I don�t know what sort of emotions he�s getting from me, since I can�t even understand them myself.
I don�t realise that I�ve grabbed him and rolled until he�s crushed beneath me. I don�t want to kiss him, even if he�d let me; I just want to hold him. My face is pressed against his neck as I hold him to me. He smells like lavender and jasmine � the soap from the hotel � and I breathe it in eagerly.
This is� this is what I want. Just him.
Hisoka�s tense at first, mostly just from shock and the sudden contact, but now that he knows that I�m not going to do anything� uncouth towards him, he�s relaxing against me. But that doesn�t stop him from growling, �You could have given me some warning, baka!�
I merely laugh, settling myself against him more firmly, and he goes silent again, reaching up to run his hand up and down my upper arm. I project happy, happy emotions like I�ll die if I don�t.
Time seems to lose all meaning; I have no idea how long we�ve been like this. It could be hours or minutes for all I know. It finally hits me that I should probably reverse our positions in case I�m hurting Hisoka. I sit up and lean back against the tree trunk, pulling him onto my lap. He utters an indignant yelp, checking to make sure that his book is all right, before leaning against me again. I close my eyes, letting my mind wander�
And then it all falls apart.
I realise something�s wrong when Hisoka tenses, and not in the way his shoulders set when he�s confronted with intimate contact that he�s not comfortable with. I open my eyes and stare down at him. His eyes are open and his brow is furrowed, like he�s concentrating while trying to find something. Uh� what�s going on?
Then I sense something myself � not the way that Hisoka can, but there�s a cold stirring in the air that has nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with conflict. To state the obvious, something�s wrong.
�Eh, Hisoka, what�s wrong � Hisoka!�
He�s up and running at full speed before I�ve blinked, and I scoop his book and jam it into the inside pocket of my coat before jumping up and running after him. We dash through the park and out into the streets. I lose track of where we are as we run, intent only on keeping track of Hisoka and, oh damn, evening�s fallen without us realising it�
Hisoka turns a corner so fast that he nearly falls, before skidding to a stop so suddenly that I nearly run into him. I pant, trying to collect myself, then freeze as I take in what�s happening before us.
A girl � high school if her uniform�s a clue � is lying on the ground, cradled by a man with dark, shining hair that�s tied back in a long ponytail. His head is bent down towards her, his lips almost touching hers. I frown, trying to figure out why he�s thrown across her in that odd way � oh. The man�s wearing a long dark robe with an outer layer that billows around him, so I can�t be sure, but the girl�s skirt seems to be bunched up around her waist and her legs are spread in such a way that he can only be, uh, inside her. My face feels like it�s on fire.
As embarrassing as this is, it�s made even worse by the fact that the girl is desperately screaming and is clearly not enjoying this one whit.
The man freezes and stiffens, slowly turning his head to look at us. His eyes are grey and cold. Dead. They remind me forcibly of Muraki�s. Bile rises in my throat, as the girl�s screams tone down to whimpers.
I risk a glance at Hisoka and barely resist the urge to gulp. Hisoka�s turned white with rage, his eyes narrowed to emerald slits as his hands curl into trembling fists. He looks dangerously close to snapping, and I can�t blame him. He�s probably remembering everything that he wants to forget right now � hell, even I'm having trouble trying to keep my mind blank. This is our weakness, one that�s going to keep letting us down again and again until� I don�t know.
The man gets up off her roughly � the girl lets out a pain-filled cry before going back to whimpering; she curls into a foetal position as he calmly resettles his robes, indifferent to her. Anger suddenly blooms inside me. From the stink of dark, corrupted magic in the air, I think we�ve just found our necromancer murderer.
He glances at us, unconcerned. He raises an eyebrow, a slight smile curling his lips. �Found me, then, obviously,� he remarks. I realise that he probably knows exactly what we are, if he really is a necromancer.
Hisoka�s grinding his teeth, the faintest shred of common sense keeping him from lunging at the bastard. That, and the fact that Tatsumi all but bribed us to use caution when we found this man, though I think that was directed at me more than Hisoka. Normally, we can take a lot of damage, but this man deals in life and death � he could do anything to us.
�Kurosaki Hisoka, I presume?� the man asks, glancing at him. Hisoka just glares. �And Tsuzuki Asato,� he continues, his cold eyes flickering towards me. �Hmph. He was right, after all.� I blanch; this amuses him.
Then he � disappears in a swirl of his robes. He�s gone before we can blink or move, and we�re suddenly surrounded by unnatural silence that broken only by the girl�s whimpering.
I automatically turn towards her, as does Hisoka, and the expression in his eyes frightens me. His eyes have turned cold, cold, cold, and empty of everything but one emotion � rage. His eyes are filled with an icy rage that has nothing to do with logic and everything to do with a blood-red moon, falling Sakura, and a burning curse that still lingers below his skin.
� End Cold Rage �