by Rina K. Fenderson
3. Shadows
Oriya couldn’t tear his eyes away as he stared into the restaurant with venom he couldn’t put into words. The scene that lay before him was cheerful; a group of men and women chatting and feasting, dancing and playfully roughhousing showed a celebration and the signs and balloons decorated the diner which was apparently rented out for the night proved the reason. A celebration of birth.
"It must be the kid's," Oriya muttered to himself, and slipped into the shadows beside the large window near the front. From his new position he could see the boy he spoke of dancing and laughed with his apparent male lover, enjoying the night. Oriya’s brow drew in, his brown eyes narrowing in anger. "They shouldn’t be allowed such play," he growled, pressing his hand against the glass of the framed window and scratching his nails over the surface, not producing any sound, but still sending a shiver up his spine. *They shouldn’t be allowed,* he thought to himself, closing his eyes in remorse. *Not after what they did to Muraki-kun...* He never knew entirely what vendetta Muraki Kazutaka had against those two men, but he knew it was brutal and knew it involved murder, mostly on Muraki’s hand. Still, he felt these people were at fault. The Shinigami, the bastards; they killed his best friend without mercy when it was they that should have died. It wouldn’t have matter much if they had. Oriya shook his head, his long hair brushing his shoulders. He wouldn’t have cared should they have lived. As look as Muraki had lived with them, if he had survived... But he didn’t survive, and for killing him these two have happiness, when before they were tortured; no one should feel happiness after the death of another. Oriya knew the story behind the boy, he knew what Muraki did to him, but the boy was already dead; what gave him the right to steal a living soul from a magnificent and brilliant man? "If I were any other man I would kill you," Oriya hissed, his eye following the couple as the taller of the two spun the younger, then kissed him softly. "If I had the will I would kill you for what you’ve done." "Would you care for some assistance?" Oriya’s eyes blinked wide, but for a moment he refused to turn, thinking it was his mind playing tricks on him and wishful thinking, but when he spun he saw him. His mouth parted in astonishment and his eyes went wider. "H-how can this be? You survived?" A sophisticated older man, clad in a white suit that matched his pale skin and silver-gray hair. To Oriya at that moment he looked like an angel under the soft white moonlight that danced across his sharp features and glittering silver eyes. He smiled, the gesture holding the same tranquil fury as before. "I survived. As long as my mission is unachieved I will survive, and rise up. It is good to see you again Oriya." The brown haired male nodded, still dumbfounded that his friend did not perish. Muraki walked slowly over the window, his silver eyes flickering about the celebration behind wire-rim glasses. "I am glad to see you as well, Muraki-kun." Within the diner, Hisoka was pinned against the wall, Tsuzuki smiling down on him. The boy smiled and a light blush covered his cheekbones at something the taller male said, before they lean toward each other sharing a kiss that neither cared was seen by the public eye. The other celebrators either ignored or smiled at their intimacy, and Muraki watched with a stoic impassiveness that set Oriya slightly unease. "They’ve gotten closer...since the last time." "It seems," Oriya answered, knowing his comment was ignored, if even registered in Muraki’s head, but just seeing the other man, to be able to feel his presence, that he was alive was enough. Muraki’s eyebrow twitched, then pulled in over his silver eyes the glittered with a malicious manner. "The boy will pay for his interference." "What are you going to do?" A smile. "I have my plans..."