by Empath no Tenshi
Chapter 8
***
That night . . . three years ago . . . it all began with a nightmare.
He had a dream of those early years of his childhood when he used to play with his mother in the grass-covered grounds outside their house. They’d walk around, hand in hand, their hearty laughter filling the humid afternoon air. And when they’d sit on the grass, his mother would gently cradle him in her arms, singing him that song that he so loved.
He had memorized it by heart.
At night, he remembered, the same song would serve as a lullaby, while his mother sat beside his bed holding his hand, showering him with warmth that enticed him to gently succumb to the realm of dreams.
Oh how he loved her voice . . . so gentle, so delicate and yet, it never failed to give a strong sense of reassuring security. For him, that melody was the very manifestation of the strong bond he had with his mother.
Her song.
Their song.
But with a sudden gust of wind, the surroundings abruptly changed into foreboding darkness. He was left alone, looking around for his mother . . . but she was nowhere to be found.
“’Kaa-sama . . .? ‘Kaa-sama!� he called out.
He stood up and ran around, looking for her. His surroundings were now that of a void blackness. Still, he kept on running, looking for her, the worry very clear in his rising voice as he persistently called out to her.
“Kaa-sama! Kaa-sama!!!�
Then, pure relief washed over him as he finally spotted her.
‘There she is.�
He saw her from a distance walking away. But as he came nearer, he noticed something that made his blood run cold. His mother� beautiful kimono…it was spattered in blood. The once pristine combination of pink and violet floral patterns was now tainted with a dark chilling red.
“Kaa-sama!!!! Matte!!!!� Little Hisoka’s sweet voice echoed through the pitch black of his surroundings, calling out to the figure that was now slowly fading away. He tried to catch up with her but the more he ran, the farther she seemed to get. He reached out, desperately trying to grasp the back of her bloodstained clothing, but no matter how hard he tried he still couldn’t get to her.
Without warning, the hushed noise produced by his mother’s footsteps came to a halt as she stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. Little Hisoka gasped in horror as he saw that the eyes that used to be so beautiful were now . . . gray and dead.
The thirteen-year-old emerald-eyed teen sat bolt upright as he woke from his frightening dream. Both his hands clutched his chest as he found it difficult to breathe. Why did he suddenly have such a dream? Was it an omen? Did it mean something was going to happen?
He looked out his window and saw…a crimson moon. The sight made his heart plummet with an inexplicable uneasiness.
He shook his head and attributed the feeling to being bedridden the whole day due to the fever he had that morning. He felt that he’d suffocate if he stayed in his room any longer. He walked out of the house to get some fresh air and to take a stroll on the lawn. The feel of the cold damp grass under his bare feet was quite relaxing, despite the fact that it made him shiver slightly. He looked up again at the blood red moon.
The incessant rustling of the cool night breeze suddenly seemed like a warning of imminent danger. The crimson moon could only be an ominous threat...
Hisoka gulped hard and tore his gaze away from it.
He closed his eyes to fully savor the soft dance of the wind, relishing the simple pleasure such a feeling brought. The night breeze had always been something he was so fond of.
It was then that an uneasy feeling of discomfort troubled him.
His eyes flew open, which fell at once on a sakura grove not so far away. In the hushed glow of moonlight, he could make out a human figure. He squinted and took a few steps closer, only to stop dead in his tracks. There was a man holding a woman with his left arm, and a dagger on his right.
� Blood trickled down the tip of the dagger.
A chill violently ran down his spine when he saw the woman’s face.
It was his mother.
Then he looked further down, her kimono, the beautiful and soft kimono that she loved to wear was soaked with blood. From where he stood, Hisoka saw the stranger slowly turn his gaze away from his most recent victim…and settle on him. The murderer’s silver eyes, as the rays of the crimson moon illuminating the twilight revealed, lit up with a predatory glint when he looked at his new prey. Such blessing. After the amusement he derived from murdering this woman, he was now being offered the pleasure of this wonderful vision, this beautiful boy.
All for his taking.
With a sadistic grin, the stranger walked toward the naive, confused seraph, who wasn’t expecting that this would be a night he’ll never forget.
What was about to happen, will forever change his life. �
His assailant was coming, and the green-eyed youth mentally screamed at himself to run, but his body didn’t obey. And how? How could he run and leave his poor mother behind? Even if he could clearly see that she was dying, or perhaps even dead, still…he desperately wanted to go by her side and hold her, and bring her back to life if he could.
But before he could even take a step to do that, he was already dragged down, stripped of his yukata�
…So much pain followed.
Lips brutally sucked his then slowly traveled down his neck, his chest…all over his body. Aggressive hands hungrily grasped every inch of his skin, leaving none untouched. Hisoka wanted so much to scream. Scream at the top of his lungs and beg for help. But he didn’t . . . he couldn’t. His head was spinning in total pandemonium with unbearable speed. �
His silver-haired attacker then raised his dagger and slowly, excruciatingly, carved characters on Hisoka’s flushed porcelain skin. Blood now poured from long, elaborate wounds on his body. After the stranger was done etching seemingly endless patterns, Hisoka’s entire body burned as his back arched in pain.�
He had never felt pain this intense his whole life. It was as though a thousand other daggers stabbed him, tearing through his flesh and bones, piercing his soul. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotions projected by his tormentor that overloaded his empathy.
Lust . . . hunger . . . hatred . . . sadness . . . loathing . . . and very deep darkness. . .
�Why is his mind so twisted?�
�Why does he suffer so?’
�And why…’
�Why does he also have to make others suffer as much?�
Even after the cruel stanger left him for dead, the pain didn’t lessen one bit. But Hisoka forced himself up. He weakly gathered all his remaining strength, and shakily put back on his ripped yukata. He tried to walk to his mother. He was barely upright on his feet when his knees totally gave in, so he crawled on all fours instead.
Every little movement he took robbed him of what very diminutive strength he had left. The only motivation he had to keep on moving was the love he had for his mother, who he was sure critically needed his help. He didn’t even stop once to catch his breath and only stopped when he reached the sakura tree. Her feeble form lay motionless among a bed of pale pink petals. Very gently, he took her in his shivering arms. Any other person would’ve thought that she was already dead, but not the young empath. She felt so cold in his arms, but he could still feel the faint traces of emotions gradually fading away.
�Kaa-sama. . .� He managed to cough out, softer than a whisper.
No answer.
“Please. . . I’m sorry if I’m late. . . But I’ll still try. . .� Hisoka urgently pleaded.
He concentrated all his thoughts and all his energy on his dying mother. His body glowed and warmth radiated from him as he tried to heal her. So lost in what he was doing, he flinched as he felt her gentle hands touch his cheek.
“Stop it, Hisoka. Save your energy.� She whispered softly, her simple action requiring a large amount of effort.
Hisoka weakly protested.
� �Demo, Kaa-sama. . .�
Before he could continue, she pressed her finger on his bruised lips, a touch so gentle it didn’t even hurt his wounds.
“I don’t have time anymore . . . so listen to me very carefully, my child. . .� she smiled weakly.
Hisoka wearily nodded, and felt tears flowing from his eyes.
She forced herself to sit up and hugged him as tightly as her dying state could handle.
“No matter how your father and I treated you all these years, keep in mind . . . that we loved you.� she paused. Hisoka felt tiny droplets mingling with his own tears as his mother quietly sobbed. “I’m sorry. . . I failed you as a mother. . . I failed to protect you, even for this one last time. Forgive me . . . my child. . .�
Hisoka couldn’t find the strength to speak, so he just hugged his mother tighter and slowly shook his head. He wanted to drown in her warmth, even for just this last time. He never felt this from her ever since his cruel family kept him in that resentful cell, where there was nothing but bitter cold and darkness.
After finally gathering the voice to speak, he told her things he had been longing to say all his life.
�Kaa-sama, I never hated you for what you and Tou-sama did. I knew all along . . . how you truly felt inside . . . because I felt it too. My empathy, remember?�
She managed to laugh lightly, a laugh that may very well have been her last. Then she cupped his baby soft cheeks and looked straight into those vulnerable and innocent emerald depths.
“Hisoka . . . remember our song. It would constantly remind you that you have a mother who loves you and will . . . constantly . . . watch over you.�
Hisoka felt her hold on him loosen, and finally, her arms fell limply to his sides.
�Kaa . . . Kaa-sama. . .� Hisoka tried vainly to shake her awake.
“Why . . . why won’t you wake up . . .? Kaa-sama. . .�
He held on to her desperately, not wanting to let go. No . . . not now when he needed her most�
� “‘How am I supposed to go through this . . . all by myself? Kaa-sama . . . onegai . . .�
And when she still didn’t answer, he broke down into uncontrollable sobs.
It was almost unbelievable how he still had the energy to cry after all the horrors that he had gone through. Though soon, with his small reserve of strength wiped out from crying, he began to lose consciousness. But before he totally passed out, he heard his father’s panic-stricken voice from afar, calling out to them.
“Kasane! Hisoka!�
The sakura petals were falling endlessly, as if weeping for the horrible ordeal it witnessed on that fateful night.
***
~)-0-(~
Emerald eyes that used to be so beautiful and bright, but now conspicuously weary and dull, slowly fluttered open. Hisoka felt completely drained. His entire body still hurt beyond tolerance. It made him wonder how he even got some sleep, a useless sleep at that. He wasn’t given a chance to rest, with his experience under the sakura and blood red moon three years ago constantly haunting him in his dreams, bringing back in full agonizing blast his memory of what happened back then.
His entire body burned with pain, but ironically, he also felt cold. He tilted his head a little, only to see his torn yukata. He could clearly see his wounds continuously bleeding even until now. And those scars, those crisscrossing patterns on his skin that reminded him of that bastard’s claim over his body, were still faintly glowing.
He couldn’t move either, due to the simple fact that his wrist and ankles were each tied to a post of the four-post bed he lay on. But really, he couldn’t find a logical explanation for being bound like this, considering he’s practically invalid, and would probably remain so for a good few days, weeks, or even months.
He was so worn-out, not even wanting to be awake when that psycho came back. He shut his eyes forcing himself to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t. Every time he tried to plunge into the world of dreams, he was visited by the very same nightmare.
But now, come to think of it, it didn’t scare him so much anymore. He cherished that little part of his dream when he remembered how his mother assured him that she loved him. Painful, yes, seeing her die over and over again. It was like perpetual torture, but it was also a reassurance that once in his life, he WAS loved . . . even though that one person who did was long gone.
Now he understood why he loved that song so much, and why he would cry whenever he sang it.
�
He was tied, cold, and very, very, tired…not exactly the best position to attempt singing…but he quietly hummed the song to himself all the same. If his mother easily made him sleep with that lullaby, then maybe he, too, can do it. But this time, not just to sleep for the night…He wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. How he wished he could do that.
It wasn’t long before stupor finally came upon him. Slowly, he felt himself being lulled to slumber. Then darkness began to creep in and take him, the darkness he so welcomed�
‘Take me . . . into that world . . . where Kaa-sama is. . .� Hisoka wished drowsily.
His senses were already fading out when a harsh command brought him back and made him snap back to full consciousness.
“Oh, no you don’t.�
That voice again.
Hisoka’s exhausted emerald eyes slowly opened again when he heard that voice that never failed to make him shiver in horror. Not this time though, he was too weak to even tremble.
It was him again -- the man with the silver hair and eyes, wearing that same typical smirk that always had death written all over it. He was completely dressed in white, as usual. It made Hisoka wonder if this guy ever had any plans of changing his clothing style. He hollowly laughed inwards.
‘Of all the things to be thinking of right now. . .�
However, did it really matter at all? Does someone wishing to just die still need to think of anything? Will it alter anything? Will it ever do anything to change the nightmare that was this vindictive reality?
But, will it also change anything if he didn’t think anymore? He decided he ought to try that. It might lessen his pain. Besides, he struggled for sleep whenever his thoughts are active. Although he highly doubted, whichever course of action he took, that he could peacefully sleep now that this person was here.
His tormentor walked towards him and sat on the side of his bed. He caressed Hisoka’s cheek and looked straight into his eyes, smiling. Then his hand traveled lower down the chest, tracing a finger around one of the deep wounds that he himself inflicted upon the youthful body just last night. He pressed on it lightly, which made Hisoka inhale sharply and wince with pain.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?� Muraki asked with a malicious grin, then continued with mock gentleness. “I had to do it. I had to teach my beautiful doll that he belongs to me and ONLY me.�
With a wave of the stranger’s hand, Hisoka’s curse scars began glowing brightly, making his back arch in horrendous agony.
“You see this, my beautiful doll?� Muraki pointed to Hisoka’s crimson curse marks, staring in awe at his own creation. �Anata wa ore no mono da. This is the proof. Since our first meeting, I made sure that no one else would claim you.�
He bent lower, his face barely an inch apart from Hisoka’s.
“But it seems to me that lately . . . somebody else was trying to steal you from me. Isn’t that right, my doll...?� He hissed, silver eyes narrowing as it drowned on orbs of priceless emeralds.
Hisoka’s eyes widened with fear, not for himself, but for Tsuzuki.
�What if this pervert goes after him?� He instinctively worried.
Then he cursed silently, mentally kicking himself.
�Damn it!!! Why am I still thinking of him!? Snap out of it, Hisoka! It was all a lie! You don’t mean anything to him. You never did. He didn’t feel the same for you. . . He didn’t love you, as much as you did him� Hisoka wordlessly scolded himself.
Without even knowing it, fresh tears began to flow again, just when he thought he no longer had any left.
� Muraki used his thumb to wipe the tears away.
“Now, now. . . Don’t cry. . . my poor poor doll. What I said must’ve brought back bitter memories ne? Have you been betrayed by that cruel man?� he sardonically asked with false concern as he licked the rest of the tears away.
“Tsk, tsk . . . ‘Twas your fault though. You should’ve known better than to trust others.� He mockingly scolded, running his fingers through the edges of Hisoka’s tattered yukata, brushing through the soft, silken skin.
“You know, in this world, you should trust no one but yourself. We were born alone after all, so until we die, we are alone.� As he said this, Muraki’s eyes reflected the littlest, most unnoticeable hint of sorrow, as if he himself had experienced the reality of those words.�
Hisoka began to sob. His words were true . . . very painfully true. . . for he himself had been a living proof of that.
Muraki’s hand once again found its place under Hisoka’s chin and tilted the boy’s head to meet his silver, perturbing gaze.
“My poor doll has been broken. . . now isn’t it every faithful owner’s duty to fix his toy when it’s broken?�
He drew his face closer. . .
“It’ll be my pleasure . . . to fix you. . .�
He kissed Hisoka’s lips lightly, then bent closer to his ear and whispered nastily.
“My pleasure, your pain. . .�
He savagely claimed Hisoka’s mouth, impatiently devouring it as he always did.
Then he began to undress him.
“Oh no. . . please don’t. . .� Hisoka faintly pleaded, albeit he knew it was in vain. He was too weak to struggle, too tired to scream. . .
So he just wished that this time . . . it’would be the last�
His entire body burst with so much throbbing pain as once again his nightmare became reality.
It was happening again.
And he wasn’t able to fight it…again.
And no one came to save him. Again.
“Kill . . . me. . .� He managed to sob disconsolately as Muraki finished, dressed, and got ready to leave.
“Oh no. I’ll let you rest for a while . . . and when you’re well, we’ll do it again. I’ve always wanted to hear your delicate scream, but you never did give me that pleasure. Not back then, and not tonight either.�
He bent down and fondly caressed Hisoka’s cheek.
� “Hmmm. . . maybe you’re just too tired. . . or too bored. Perhaps next time, I should make it more painful ne?� Muraki said with a boyish smile as he sophisticatedly put on his pristine white coat.
“It doesn’t matter. We can always do it again . . . and again . . . and again.� Muraki purred seductively, as he playfully bit Hisoka’s ear.
“Why won’t you . . . let me go . . .?� the abused boy whimpered.
“Because you are too precious and too beautiful to waste.� Muraki said, kissing his cheek. �
Then he left.
Hisoka could no longer stop crying.
~)-0-(~
Tsuzuki was running, running as fast as his tired legs could muster. They were right in front of him, that silver-haired doctor, who offered his help when Hisoka collapsed at the night of the concert. And that man was carrying an unconscious Hisoka in his arms.
Upon spotting Tsuzuki darting towards him and his lovely captive, the man merely smirked.
“You must be him. . .� The man listlessly stated, but his silver eyes were penetrating through Tsuzuki’s soul. “The one who made him cry.�
He drew his cheek closer to Hisoka’s and brushed it affectionately. He caught a faint spangle at the corner of his eye and turned to look at the source. Within the boy’s partly opened yukata, was a silver cross necklace draped over his elegant neck, reflecting the moon’s crimson radiance. And, right at the very center of it, were the miniscule, almost invisible, engraved kanji characters...
“Tsuzuki. . .� The stranger read out loud. A frown wrinkled his perfectly fashioned eyebrows, before he swiftly and forcefully yanked the necklace away from Hisoka, making the unconscious boy stir indiscernibly. With little effort the silver string was snapped, and the man threw the broken jewelry on the bloodstained ground as if it was filth.
“He’ll never belong to you. . . because the one he truly belongs to has come to claim him back� the man proudly declared.
Then their figures slowly faded into the shadows and completely vanished.
Tsuzuki came forward instinctively, but suddenly found himself beneath a sakura tree. He looked around for them frantically, but all he found, on the grass, was the silver necklace he gave to Hisoka right before his performance.
And the cross pendant was stained with blood.
� “Hisoka. . .�
� � Hisoka. . .�
“HISOKA!!!!!�
“HISOKA!!!� Tsuzuki yelled as his amethyst orbs shot open. His alarm clock had been beeping for a long time, but it apparently had failed to wake him up. Only when his dreadful nightmare came to its climax did he come around. By the bright rays of sunlight that filtered through his thin curtains, it dawned on him that it was already morning.
For a short moment he had the bliss of imagining that it was all a nightmare, but when the events that occurred last night slowly came back to him, his heart dropped. Realizing that torturing himself over what happened wouldn’t bring Hisoka back, he leapt out of bed and hastily changed. He bustled about in his apartment getting ready, then shortly departed. His mind was set on finding the person he inadvertently betrayed.
‘Even if he doesn’t accept me anymore. . . even if he pushes me away. . . and even if I have lost the chance of him ever returning my feelings. . . if I could just bring him back. . . That’ll be enough. I won’t ask for anything more than that.� Tsuzuki resolved.
“Hisoka. . . please be safe.� Tsuzuki desperately whispered to anything he hoped would hear him as he dashed to their office.
~)-0-(~
� Tsuzuki went to their agency to report to Kachou what had happened. Kachou was extremely troubled, and sent Tatsumi at once to personally back him up in his pursuit. Tatsumi accepted the task without second thoughts, concern very evident in his usually stern face upon hearing of what happened to Hisoka. After all, he did make a vow at the beginning of this mission that he’d never let anything happen to the young boy. He hated failures, and he will absolutely not give up until the youth was retrieved.
�
So there they were, the secretary and his constant source of headaches, for once together without arguing over the impossibility of the latter’s debts. Inside, Tatsumi mused that they were right not to have trusted the silver-haired stranger the moment they first encountered him. Even back then, they sensed something about the man that seemed to be drawing him ominously to the youth.
Tsuzuki, meanwhile, was busy looking around everywhere. He approached every single person that had the littlest resemblance to Hisoka, desperately hoping that each one of them was actually the person he was looking for. He was goaded every time he came upon a false sign of the blonde youth. It never occurred to him before that the whole fiasco would eventually lead to something as deadly as this. If only he realized sooner that this could happen, then he would never have accepted the mission from the very start.�
And the fact that it was his fault why Hisoka ran away in the first place. . .
� “If anything ever happens to him. . .� he voiced his distressed thoughts out loud, fists tightly clenched. “I’ll never forgive myself.�
It was then that a reassuring hand was laid on his shoulder.
“Take it easy, Tsuzuki-san. We’ll find him.� Tatsumi said, keeping his voice gentle in an attempt to comfort his friend.
Tsuzuki’s guilt had been slowly killing him ever since Hisoka disappeared. He felt like his sanity was just holding on to a very thin thread that was about to snap at any moment�.
Even if they knew that Watari was busy doing research on just who exactly the mysterious doctor was, they would already be ecstatic if they could even find just a name due to all the fruitless work that the genki scientist had done. This doctor was a very enigmatic person indeed, whose identity, whose entire existence, was very well guarded. Trying to know his whereabouts was as difficult as finding a needle in a haystack, if not worse.
� Tatsumi was immersed in his thoughts of how they can possibly find the young boy, and was about to voice out an idea, but was startled as Tsuzuki kicked a nearby trash bin.
“Damn it!!!! Where on earth could he have possibly taken him!? We’ve searched everywhere!!!!� Tsuzuki spat out furiously.
“Tsuzuki-san. Please, calm down. . .� Tatsumi tried to talk to him with a soothing tone. But Tsuzuki only turned on him to pour out all the frustrations he bottled up inside. He clutched Tatsumi’s shirt and began shaking him angrily.
“HOW!!!? How the hell am I supposed to be calm when at this very moment Hisoka could be . . . could be. . .� Tsuzuki trailed off. He couldn’t bear to imagine all the possible atrocious things that might be happening to Hisoka that very moment. Tatsumi understood him though. He knew that Tsuzuki felt tired, irritated, and aggravated by the fact that they appeared to be searching in vain. Even he himself couldn’t help but worry about the boy. Yes, that boy who captivated him with his angelic features during the night of the concert, which was why he couldn’t help but wonder what possible motive the boy’s very own father had to want him dead...
An edgy silence ensued for a brief moment, but was abruptly cut off when Tatsumi’s cell phone rang.
�Hai?� Tatsumi answered. It was Watari who spoke from the other end.
“I think I have a lead!!!� Watari burst out excitedly. It was obvious that he, too, cared for the youth. He was just as eager to find him as Tsuzuki was.
“Understood.� Tatsumi replied simply then hung up. He then turned to Tsuzuki.
�Ikuso, Tsuzuki-san. Watari-san found something that may be useful.� he said with a smile.
Tsuzuki nodded, then they went off to see Watari as fast as they could.