Little Problems

Part 3

(Or �Can Tsuzuki really use personality quirks to his advantage?�)

Written by The Webmaster ([email protected])



Tatsumi sighed as he tried to shift as far away from Tsuzuki as his futon would let him. Tsuzuki, in his own futon, contently asleep, sighed and tossed away. Tatsumi tried to close his eyes to get to sleep again.

No such luck.

He had the warning of a not quite contented snort. He really should have taken the hint and moved. Unfortunately, he thought Tsuzuki would only shift a little this time.

A foot slammed in to his spine, snapping it the wrong way. Tatsumi was in too much pain to cry out and waited in an arched position for his back to heal its self. After a few minutes the wayward vertebrae popped, and relief flooded through his spine.

Tsuzuki, still asleep, missed all of this. The only part that was on his futon was his lower back, and that part was on his pillow. His feet were submerged in the side of Tatsumi�s blanket, and his head rested on Tatsumi�s house slippers.

Once again, Tatsumi wondered if the gods were punishing him for an unknown crime he had committed in some past life.

�Tatsumi?� Tsuzuki mumbled from the shoes.

�Yes?� Tatsumi asked warily. Tsuzuki and early morning conversation existed in two separate corners of the universe. If he was trying to say something . . .

�I know how we can defeat the green ham.� Tsuzuki mumbled, drooling on the slippers. Tatsumi groaned into his pillow. �All we have to do is get a circle of love.� With that, Tsuzuki rolled over on his stomach and off the futon, sticking one of his toes in Tatsumi�s ear.

***

He was forgetting something important. He knew this because the hand that held the toothbrush in his mouth was shaking. The mouth that the toothbrush was sticking out of quivered, making the soapy foam drip down his chin.

At around that time, Tatsumi came in the bathroom. He looked at Tsuzuki, his gaze unreadable. Tsuzuki, happy for the distraction, blinked back full of innocence.

Tatsumi reached over and pulled his toothbrush out of Tsuzuki�s mouth. �Tsuzuki-san,� He shook the toothbrush as if he was planning on using to stab something (or someone). �Do you not have your own toothbrush?� He asked in exasperation.

Much to Tatsumi�s chagrin, Tsuzuki shook his dark head pitifully. �Since you do not, why don�t we go shopping for a new one? As your payday was yesterday, you should be able to afford a new one.� If Tatsumi had been wearing glasses, they would be flashing evilly. He suddenly frowned. �Unless you�ve already spent it all on another drunken foray?�

Tsuzuki sniffed, the foamy toothpaste starting to drip off his chin. He spit into the sink before answering. �I didn�t get a chance. You gave me too much work last night.� Tsuzuki looked at Tatsumi with an expression that was somewhere between a sullen glare and a pitiful puppyish pleading one.

Tatsumi picked up a rag and started wiping off Tsuzuki�s chin. �Well, we can go shopping together today.� He said contentedly. �As we seem to be out of most of our edible foods, we need new groceries, and my shirts are getting used twice as fast-� Tatsumi shook his head in exasperation, fingering the collar of the shirt Tsuzuki was wearing.

�Okay.� Tsuzuki reluctantly agreed. He really didn�t like to spend money on anything besides candy and alcohol. Then an idea struck him. �There�s a fair in the city!� He exclaimed.

Tatsumi didn�t look amused. �Yes, and I doubt they will be stocking on shirts.� To this, Tsuzuki shook his head.

�Oh, no. This fair will have everything! We can shop there!� He grasped Tatsumi�s hands, grinning manically. Tatsumi was considering this, and judging from the expression his face, the decision would go against Tsuzuki.

So, taking a deep breath, Tsuzuki decided to �help� Tatsumi.

�And at fairs, everything is cheap.� If a �normal� person heard that tone said with those words, they would have heard the underlying word �victory�.

However, because a secretary who can control shadows is nowhere near normal, Tatsumi didn�t hear the tone. All he heard were the words, �everything� and �cheap�. His mind instantaneously swayed from denying Tsuzuki to agreeing wholeheartedly.

Tsuzuki smiled happily, effectively hiding the smug smirk. Then, as his grin became moronic, he started jumping up and down in the bathroom �We�re going to the fair! We�re going to the fair!� Tsuzuki sang, managing to do a little dance while still bouncing.

Tatsumi winced, grateful that he wasn�t living in an apartment with tenants.

�Yes, we are. Only, would you be willing to meet me there?� Tatsumi asked. �I have to do a few reports still. It shouldn�t take too long.� Tatsumi was wary about leaving Tsuzuki alone for too long in his house. Only last night, when he had come from work early to find Tsuzuki �cooking� . . . He had barely managed to dispose of the hazardous material and keep the kitchen from burning down at the same time.

Tsuzuki, oblivious to Tatsumi�s strained expression, nodded. �That�s okay!� He still had a moronic grin on his face. �I�ll just do a little of browsing early and-� He stopped when Tatsumi curled long fingers around his lapel.

�Whatever you do,� The secretary began to shake Tsuzuki, �Do. Not. Buy. Anything!� Knowing Tsuzuki, he�d get taken in with the first seller trying to talk him into a jacked-up price. Tsuzuki nodded worriedly. Tatsumi�s face morphed into an all too benign smile. He pinched Tsuzuki cheek and pulled. �Be good. Shall we meet at the entrance at nine-thirty?�

Tsuzuki nodded as well as he could with his cheek being stretched out. Tatsumi, still smiling benignly, let go and started to leave. He was almost out the door when he turned. �Good bye for now, Tsuzuki-san.� Tsuzuki, rubbing his cheek, waved, and Tatsumi was gone.

Tsuzuki continued to get ready for the day, but something in the back of his brain was nagging him. Because over seventy five percent of his brain was in the back, he was used to this, and figured it wasn�t that important and that it would come to him soon.

When he went into the kitchen, preparing to make breakfast, he found that Tatsumi had already made some for him. Tsuzuki decided against foraging in the kitchen for food and chewed on cooling sausage instead.

A clock on the wall chimed the hour as nine. Tsuzuki tilted his head; the nagging part of his brain seemed to have something to do with it being nine.

He normally got to work at around that time, though living the past several days with Tatsumi meant that he was forced to be on time. But as it was Sunday, he didn�t have work today.

No, something else was wrong.

He glanced at the egg that Tatsumi had cooked him. White. �Yes�, the back of his brain said. �Yes, this deals with white. Go on.� White. Lots of things were white, like paper, sugar, and a certain doctor . . .

The back of his brain was practically quivering with tension. �So close� it told him. �So very, very close, just a little farther . . .�

Tsuzuki frowned and ate the egg. The back of his brain threw up its hands and informed him it was going on a five-minute vacation.

He saw a piece of paper lying on the counter top. When he picked it up, he saw it had on it in a neat script that was too flowery to be Tatsumi�s, �Sunday�.

Tsuzuki shrugged and bent over and threw it away, concentrating on his plans for today. Shopping with Tatsumi at a fair, it almost sounded like a date . . .

About five minutes later something clicked, and Tsuzuki sprinted out of the house, swearing profusely.

***

He barely touched the wooden door with his knuckles before it swung open. Muraki gave him a rather dark look.

�Tsuzuki-san. You appear to be late.� He growled as well as he could at the object of his affections.

Tsuzuki, who was bent over exhausted from sprinting for fifteen minutes while trying to find Muraki�s house, decided not to answer him.

Muraki reached out and stroked Tsuzuki�s hair. �What shall we do today?� He asked happily, any bad feelings gone. Tsuzuki went rigid, hoping he could pull his plan off.

�Fair.� He gasped, still catching his breath. �There is a fair.� Tsuzuki decided it was easier to catch his breath sitting, so he plopped down on Muraki�s steps.

�A fair?� Muraki asked casually. �Why do you want to go to a fair? There are so many better places we could spend our date on.� When Tsuzuki glanced up, he saw that Muraki was giving him a disappointed look. �Places better than a crowded fair.� Muraki�s eyes narrowed at the thought.

Tsuzuki felt his stomach seize with dread. Though he doubted that he could pull his plan off with Muraki and Tatsumi both at the fair, he knew for a fact it didn�t have a chance without them both being in the same general area.

Taking a deep breath, Tsuzuki stood and tried to smile charmingly at Muraki. Unfortunately, because he wasn�t too thrilled about smiling at Muraki in the first place, and the thoughts of what either Muraki or Tatsumi would do to him if they figured out his idea; his �charming� smile looked more like an expression someone would wear just before they threw up.

�Please? As a special favor for me?� Tsuzuki tried asking. Muraki, whether because he knew Tsuzuki was up to something, or he was worried of Tsuzuki throwing up on his pure white clothes, had an expression of extreme wariness. �Just think of the things we can do!� Tsuzuki brightened up considerably, no longer with a sick expression on his face.

From the expression on Muraki�s face, his idea of what they could do did not involve fairs. However, Tsuzuki�s bright purple eyes gazing into his �helped� him to agree.

�Very well.� Muraki had no idea what he was getting into.

***

The fair was spread across a big park. At the front were stalls selling various things at cheap prices that even Tatsumi might agree to. At the back were rides, which Tsuzuki was far more interested in than anything else.

Muraki was far more interested in the shrine lying at the edge than anything else. It was in a well-kept, quiet place, with autumn leaves falling slowly across the stone road. The shrine itself was a wooden building that wasn't actually any bigger than Tsuzuki's former bedroom had been.

Muraki knelt before it. After he was done with whatever he was doing, he motioned Tsuzuki next to him.

"This shrine, it is very beautiful," He turned to brush a leaf out of Tsuzuki's hair. "Do you not agree?" He asked, turning back to the shrine.

Tsuzuki glanced at his watch and blanched. It was already 9:30!

Muraki wasn't looking at him, and therefore noticed nothing. "This shrine is a memorial to-"

Tsuzuki took a few cautious steps back, and when Muraki didn't notice him, he turned and fled.

Tatsumi was waiting just at the entrance. When he saw Tsuzuki was running towards him, he started walking to the shops, making it harder for Tsuzuki to catch up.

By the time Tsuzuki arrived panting, Tatsumi was shaking a shirt, making sure it didn't have any hidden flaws.

"Try this on." Tatsumi commanded, and before Tsuzuki could catch his breath, he found himself holding the shirt.

The vender was only too happy to help, and suddenly Tsuzuki found that he was stripped of his shirt, with Tatsumi trying to stuff his arms into the long sleeves.

The forming crowd started giving catcalls until Tatsumi gave them a dark look.

"No, that's too tight." Tatsumi said, after fumbling with Tsuzuki's buttons. The two of them (the vendor wasn't wasting the chance to feel Tsuzuki up) proceeded to try to get the shirt back off a struggling Tsuzuki.

"Tsuzuki-san, please calm down." Tatsumi commanded. "There is no way the shirt will stay on forever." The shirt did its best to defy him.

Just as it was almost off, it gave a loud rip. Tatsumi froze, his eyes wide open. Tsuzuki, having a good idea what was coming next, burst into tears. The vendor, with his hand on Tsuzuki's chest, simply started shaking and having a mental break down.

Tatsumi immediately berated the vendor for purposely ripping the shirt so they would have to purchase it. After giving the other man a look that made his blood run cold, Tatsumi knelt before Tsuzuki and tried to comfort him as best he could with people gathering around them.

Handing the vendor the ruined shirt, Tatsumi led Tsuzuki off to another stall, where they were selling larger shirts.

This time, the vendor was female and was too busy flirting with Tatsumi to notice Tsuzuki poking around the clothing racks. Unfortunately for her, Tatsumi didn't notice, as he was both watching Tsuzuki and trying to negotiate a reasonable price (less than 100 yen).

"Are you sure you cannot go lower?" Tatsumi asked, looking over the vendor�s head at Tsuzuki, who had found that the shirts were too large.

"Yes," The woman began, then coyly added, "Unless you could-"

"Tsuzuki-san, please come here." Tatsumi called out, cutting the woman off. He fingered the lapel of the shirt, and then wrapped it around Tsuzuki. "Do you see this? These shirts are far too large for my friend. If we actually buy these, we would have to alter the shirts so he could wear them." Tatsumi adjusted his glasses, a hand still holding Tsuzuki's shirt. "I'm sure you could go lower."

The woman gave Tsuzuki a look of pure venom. "I suppose-" She began.

"Good. Now, we'll need four of these." Tsuzuki escaped from the confines of the shirt and left it in Tatsumi's hand.

He glanced at his watch. It was already fifteen minuets latter! Muraki would be wondering what had happened to him by now.

He looked at Tatsumi. The latter was haggling with the woman for the best deal on the shirts. Surely he wouldn't notice . . .

Tsuzuki took off running.

He pushed through the crowd and stumbled into the desolate shrine area. Desolate, except for one man, that is.

Tsuzuki collapsed next to Muraki, gasping for breath. Muraki suddenly turned. "Don't you think so, Tsuzuki-san?" He asked.

Muraki blinked confusedly at Tsuzuki, who was sitting on the ground next to him, panting. Muraki knelt besides him and worriedly ran his fingers through Tsuzuki's hair in a soothing gesture. "Are you alright?" He asked.

Tsuzuki was anything but all right. He was too tired to knock Muraki's hands away, and he didn't know how long Tatsumi would be haggling with that woman. He managed an unintelligible moan. Muraki patted his cheek, trying to figure out what to do.

Suddenly Tsuzuki was swept up in a pair of strong arms. Having recovered enough yell, he did so. "Hey!" He struggled, and was rewarded for his efforts by being dropped. "Don't do that!"

Muraki gave him an amused half-smirk. "Why, you seem to be better now." He reached out a hand to help Tsuzuki up. Tsuzuki struggled up using a stone for support.

�Shall we go shopping?� The doctor asked. Tsuzuki felt his eyes dilate. If Tatsumi and Muraki ran into each other . . .

Before he could protest, Muraki was already walking into the crowd, forcing Tsuzuki to run to catch up with him. Muraki paused at a few stalls to glace at their wares, giving Tsuzuki enough time to formulate another plan on how to distract Muraki.

What was it that Muraki liked? Tsuzuki tried to call up the last time they were on a date, but because he had been too worried about Hisoka, he hadn�t actually paid attention to the psycho doctor.

He glanced around hurriedly. This fair had �everything�. The closest sections were the ones for clothes (which he would keep Muraki away from), toys, and games. He didn�t see anything that Muraki might like . . . wait! Muraki had taken him to an antique store where he went on about dolls. And there a little farther from here was a stand with multitudes of antique dolls.

Tsuzuki personally found someone who would sell dolls for a living just as creepy as one who collects them.

Just as Muraki was about to move along and inevitably miss the dolls, Tsuzuki grabbed his sleeve, and tugged him towards the toys. Muraki, after standing still for several minutes, followed Tsuzuki.

Muraki�s eyes misted over as he saw the antique dolls. He gave Tsuzuki a smile that was surprisingly not predatory. �You remembered.� The smile then became anything but benign. �You were paying attention back then. Is there a motive behind this?� Tsuzuki felt the bile in his stomach rise.

�No!� Tsuzuki denied a bit too quickly.

Muraki smirked at him for a few moments longer than necessary, then happily crouched before a doll and examined it. After Muraki had spent a couple of minutes fawning over the dolls, Tsuzuki turned and hurried off.

Because the clothes section was right by the toy section, Tsuzuki wasn�t out of breath when he caught up to Tatsumi. However, he was surprised when Tatsumi turned. He froze, praying that Tatsumi hadn�t noticed his absence.

Tatsumi hadn�t. He turned and dumped the shirts he had bought with Tsuzuki�s paycheck into Tsuzuki�s arms.

�There. Now we just need someone to tailor them down to your size.� Tatsumi smiled gently at Tsuzuki. �I�m sure Wakaba-chan has some experience. If not, I have had to sew before.� With that, Tatsumi led Tsuzuki away.

�Are you thirsty?� Tatsumi asked. �I think I noticed a stall that was serving free tea.� He promised Tsuzuki. �Do you want to stop for a quick break?� Tatsumi, acting surprisingly (and suddenly) chivalrous, helped Tsuzuki carry the shirts.

�Sure,� Tsuzuki replied warily. Tatsumi never acted this nice.

When they got their tea, Tatsumi automatically stirred in a few spoonfuls of sugar for Tsuzuki. After handing the cup to Tsuzuki, Tatsumi sipped his own bitter tea.

�It appears your idea of shopping at the fair is at an end.� Tatsumi admonished Tsuzuki gently. �They do not appear to stock up on toiletries on a regular basis.� Tatsumi considered Tsuzuki for a few moments. �Later today we should go to the Super Market to purchase more items for yourself. Does that sound good to you?�

Tsuzuki didn�t really see why he couldn�t use Tatsumi�s things, but the secretary was looking at him with the calm expression he wore just before an outburst, so he nodded anyways. Smiling gently, Tatsumi pinched his cheek and pulled. �Very well then. Shall we spend the rest of the afternoon here?� Tsuzuki nodded in pain. Tatsumi, still smiling, let go of his cheek.

While Tsuzuki was rubbing the abused flesh, someone chose that moment to run into Tatsumi and spill her ice cream on his suit jacket.

Tatsumi froze, his face darkening as he stared through Tsuzuki. As if knowing what was to come, the little girl ran away, leaving Tsuzuki to deal with Tatsumi. Tsuzuki helplessly tried to wipe the ice cream off of Tatsumi�s jacket, but only ended up smudging it in further.

Tatsumi grasped Tsuzuki�s wrist in a firm grip. �Please don�t concern yourself with this, Tsuzuki-san.� Tatsumi�s voice was creepily calm. �Please excuse me for a few minutes.� Very calmly, the secretary walked away, wondering who in the world would eat ice cream before it was lunch.

Tsuzuki gulped down the rest of his tea before sprinting back to the stand that was selling antique dolls.

He didn�t get there a moment too soon, as at the moment he stopped running, Muraki turned to address him. �Which do you prefer?� The doctor asked, offering him two dolls. �The white one, or the dark one?�

Tsuzuki was catching his breath, and when he tried to answer, all that would come out were unintelligible gasps. Muraki frowned but nevertheless bought both dolls.

�Tsuzuki-san, what shall we do now?� Muraki asked casually. Tsuzuki shook his head, his breathing becoming more regular. Muraki fingered his chin as he observed the rest of the fair. Then, he happily turned to Tsuzuki. �Do you like games?� He asked. Tsuzuki froze, worried of what was coming next. Muraki reached out and grasped the fabric of his sleeve. �Come, it might be entertaining.�

Tsuzuki, arm out-stretched, followed Muraki to one of the counters. Tsuzuki immediately paled when he saw what �game� Muraki had in mind.

�Kingyo sukui. A game that tests the patience of the player.� Muraki smiled viciously. �Have you ever played this?� Tsuzuki wordlessly shook his head. Muraki�s eye seemed to glint. �Why don�t you try then?� Muraki asked.

Before Tsuzuki could protest, Muraki handed him a paper scoop. �Don�t worry, Tsuzuki-san.� Muraki breathed into his ear. �This will be fun.� Tsuzuki flinched at the words of doom. Muraki gestured at the tank invitingly, a hand tracing the back of Tsuzuki�s thigh.

Warily, Tsuzuki knelt besides the ominous tank, and accepted the plastic bag of water the concessionaire handed him. He started to get dizzy watching the fish swim. Suddenly, a cool hand slid around his wrist.

�You�re holding this wrong.� Muraki murmured into Tsuzuki�s ear. �Here, allow me . . .� The fingers adjusted his own before resting on his wrist.

Trying to breathe like a normal person who didn�t have a psycho doctor nearly pressed up against his back, Tsuzuki closed his eyes and prayed for strength. Shaking his wrist did nothing to dislodge the fingers, but when he moved his arm over the tank, the fingers reluctantly let go.

In the new, awkward position his fingers were in, Tsuzuki dipped the paper scoop in the tank, and flipped it under a goldfish.

There was a splash as the scoop broke the surface of the water, levering the golden fish out of its former home.

When he felt a hand gently curl around the one that held the bag, Tsuzuki forced his eyes open, praying that he hadn�t just levered the fish to its death.

A long fingered hand gently ruffled his hair. The words, �Very good, Tsuzuki-san.� Were breathed into his ear.

Slowly Muraki detangled the plastic bag from Tsuzuki�s fingers and tied it with the ribbon the concessionaire handed him. After he finished tying the bag shut, Muraki, with a rather satisfied smirk, handed it to Tsuzuki. �Tsuzuki-san, your reward for playing.�

Tsuzuki, coming out of his daze, shook his head. �No.� He shook himself. �No, you keep it.� Muraki only smiled.

�A gift?� He asked happily. �Why, thank you Tsuzuki-san. I did not expect this of you.� Muraki gave him a lecherous grin.

�Tsuzuki-san,� Muraki�s grin became innocent again. �What shall we do next?�

�Bathroom!�

Muraki smiled knowingly. �Very well. I shall wait near here for you.� Muraki promised. Tsuzuki ran towards the bathroom, leaving Muraki smirking by the stand.

Just as he got there, he slammed into something that gave a loud grunt. Tsuzuki found himself on the ground, his tailbone in pain, his eyes blinking up at the figure he had run into.

Tatsumi smoothed the wrinkles in his suit and straightened his glasses. �Tsuzuki-san,� He said with surprising calmness for one who had just been used as a brick wall. �I do apologize for taking so long, but the place was rather . . . it had more to be desired for in cleanliness.�

Tatsumi kindly helped Tsuzuki up. Brushing his smudged clothes off, Tsuzuki glanced at Tatsumi�s shoulder where the ice cream had fallen. Other than a wet spot, the suit seemed clean enough. Then again, Tatsumi had spent quite a long time in the bathroom . . .

�Shall we leave this area, Tsuzuki-san?� And without waiting for an answer, Tatsumi was already walking away, leaving Tsuzuki no choice but to hurry after him.

The sweet smell of lunch cooking brought Tatsumi to a halt. He paused and inhaled; remembering that the last time he had eaten was a few scant moments before Tsuzuki had awoken at eight-thirty. He would have continued eating had Tsuzuki not crashed through the door in a rush to the bathroom.

Now, several hours later, his stomach decided to remind him that it hadn�t really eaten then. Now was a perfect time to sit down and eat. The fact that the food here was cheap made things only more appealing.

He was about to turn and ask Tsuzuki if he felt like eating lunch with him when Tatsumi had the unexplainable sensation of someone running him over. From his position with his face in the ground and feet painfully on top his spine, he was certain that some demon had decided to try to attack him. There was no option left but to retaliate.

That was, until Tsuzuki leapt off of him and knelt next to him, apologizing profusely. Though Tsuzuki had enough manners to help him up, Tatsumi still felt insulted that Tsuzuki had just used him as a doormat.

Tatsumi�s upbringing came through, and although he gave Tsuzuki a rather dirty glare, he still was able to growl, �Would you like to have lunch with me?�

Tsuzuki instantly lit up; either not noticing or ignoring the look Tatsumi was giving him. �Really?� He asked. �Yay! Tatsumi�s the best!� Tsuzuki, deep in euphoria, latched on a disgruntled Tatsumi�s arm. �Where do you want to eat?� Tsuzuki asked. �That Chinese place over there?�

As Tsuzuki�s budget was tied up with simply purchasing supplies, Tatsumi ended up paying for their meals. They sat down at a conveniently unoccupied table before eating. Unfortunately, as Tsuzuki finished early and Tatsumi gave him a dark look when he was about to ask for more, he was forced to steal from Tatsumi�s plate.

Tatsumi was a rather good sport about it and pretended he didn�t notice his food was being eaten quicker than it should have been.

After they finished, Tatsumi was gracious enough to carry their trays over to throw away the boxes the food had come in.

Tsuzuki watched him as he left, and was somewhat relieved to see that there was a long line to the trash bins. Tatsumi stood at the end, tapping his foot impatiently.

Though Tsuzuki was worried about the fact that so many people were by the trash bins, he hurried away.

He almost made it out of the food area when someone grabbed his arm, forcing him to a halt. He turned to yell at the person, but the words died in his throat when he saw who it was.

Muraki gave him a knowing look. �Tsuzuki-san. After you didn�t return, I had thought you had gotten . . . lost.� The lips curved into the semblance of a smile. �Though, I suppose I can understand. When one such as yourself is hungry, it gives one such as myself so many options.� Tsuzuki didn�t want to think about what Muraki could be thinking about. �Shall we eat lunch?� Muraki asked graciously.

Tsuzuki was about to tell him that he wasn�t hungry, but he caught himself. Muraki could get suspicious if he wasn�t, and Tsuzuki really didn�t want Muraki to find out about Tatsumi. Or vice-versa.

�Alright.� Tsuzuki agreed nervously. Thankfully, Muraki didn�t guess the real reason for his nervousness and walked with him back to the food area.

�What shall we eat?� Muraki asked fingering his chin. The rows of cheap cuisine were not on his list of favorite foods. Then he spotted a stand selling semi-decent Italian food. �Tsuzuki-san, do you like Italian food?� Muraki asked. Tsuzuki, who had been about to run away to Tatsumi, stopped dead in his tracks.

�Yes?� Tsuzuki hadn�t quite caught the question. He grew wary when Muraki smiled at him.

�Good. I do believe you will enjoy this.� Tsuzuki�s eyes grew big, wondering what he had just agreed too. When Muraki deftly slid his hand around Tsuzuki�s, it only heightened his mental picture of what he might have agreed to.

Muraki deposited him in front of the Italian food stand. �Tsuzuki-san, what would you like?� He asked, eyeing the menu with interest.

�Uh . . .� Tsuzuki looked at the menu, which was all in Italian. He had no idea what any of it was saying, much less what he would like. �I mean, uh . . .�

Muraki ordered something, what ever it was; Tsuzuki couldn�t make out what he said. Seeing Tsuzuki still staring confusedly at the menu, Muraki�s mouth twisted in a dangerous smirk. �Tsuzuki-san. If you are having trouble deciding, we could share my order.� Tsuzuki nodded.

Because Tsuzuki was still looking at the menu, he missed the victorious grin that flashed across Muraki�s face. By the time he looked up, Muraki looked as impeccable as ever. After they gotten their meal, Muraki led Tsuzuki to an isolated table in the shade, where Tsuzuki discovered his next few problems.

He couldn�t use forks. He also had never eaten foreign food before. At least he could deal with the sauce that contained chunks of meat that was spatter generously over the yellow worm-like noodles.

The only problem was the fork.

Not noticing Muraki�s expression of anticipation, Tsuzuki gingerly picked up the plastic item like he would a knife he was planning on using to stab something. Burring the end into the spaghetti, he twisted.

In a feat that no one other than Tsuzuki could manage, the fork spun out of his hand. It twisted in the air, bits of sauce, meat, and spaghetti still stuck on the end. The single strand of spaghetti flew off the end to land on Tsuzuki�s face, splattering him with what little sauce remained on it. The fork spun while splattering precious droplets of sauce into their water glasses. The fork, it�s path upward done, fell back down.

It splashed into Muraki�s glass of water with a precision that only Terazuma could match, knocking the glass over. The water ran in rivulets off the table, miraculously missing Muraki who was watching the spectacle with an amused expression only he could display.

�You seem to have difficulties using these utensils.� Tsuzuki wondered if Muraki was trying to make a joke. �Here, allow me to assist you.� Muraki twirled his fork in the mass of noodles and held it before Tsuzuki�s mouth. �Open wide.� Muraki suggested.

Tsuzuki glared at him, grabbing the proffered fork, and bit into the food. It was a shame that he had bit down a little too hard, because the plastic fork broke, the prongs still in his mouth. He retched and the mass of food contaminated by the plastic and his saliva lay on the ground.

Muraki chuckled lightly. �A little bit hungry?� He asked. He rescued Tsuzuki�s fork from his glass. �Perhaps it is better if I feed you.� He repeated the procedure and before Tsuzuki could protest, pressed the noodles into Tsuzuki�s mouth. �Does it taste good?� Muraki asked. Tsuzuki choked the noodles down. Taking that as a positive response, Muraki proceeded to force feed Tsuzuki lunch.

It was either choke or swallow. Tsuzuki, who thankfully was still somewhat hungry, chose the latter, pointedly ignoring Muraki�s smirk of conquest.

As the plate became less than half-full, Tsuzuki was finally able to stop Muraki from shoving food into his mouth by grabbing his arm.

�No . . . more . . .� Tsuzuki gasped. Muraki, either because he had already had his fun, or because he was hungry, nodded and finished eating the plate. He, having skill with western utensils, finished what was left quickly, and graciously stood in line to the trash bins.

Tsuzuki leaned back and relaxed contentedly against the chair. Because his stomach felt like it was going to burst, he was lucky that Muraki, like Tatsumi had decided to throw their trash away . . .

Tsuzuki�s eyes snapped open, and he toppled over the chair he was sitting in. He had forgotten about Tatsumi! He ran towards the trash bins as quickly as his enlarged stomach would let him. As he ran, he tried to picture what Tatsumi�s and Muraki�s meeting would be like, but for some reason, the only mental image he could pull up was the smoldering ruins of Tokyo.

Tsuzuki saw a blurred brown out of the corner of his eye. He turned, and smacked into a telephone post.

***

The world, instead of spinning, was simply fading in and out of a purplish haze. Therefore it took Tsuzuki a while to realize that there was someone holding his head and talking to him. It took him even longer to make out the features of that person.

�T-Tatsumi?� Tsuzuki asked. For some reason, his jaw didn�t seem to want to work. �Is that you?� His jaw gave a loud pop and he was able to speak more easily.

�Tsuzuki-san, please be calm. We�re in the medical center for the fair.� Tatsumi explained hurriedly, brushing his hair out of his face. �Are you feeling better, Tsuzuki-san?�

Tsuzuki started to nod, but because his head hurt and his vision swarm, he decided on a verbal response. �Yeah, I guess so.� Tatsumi gave him a look that doubted Tsuzuki�s sanity.

�Why don�t we rest here a little longer?� Tatsumi suggested after watching Tsuzuki for several moments. �When you feel up to moving your head, we can leave.� Tsuzuki started to nod, but as that was a mistake, settled for grunting instead.

Several minutes passed in silence. Tsuzuki was getting really comfortable lying on the cot. Tatsumi was gazing off into the distance, a pensive expression on his face. �Say, Tsuzuki-san,� Tatsumi sighed.

When Tatsumi hadn�t gone on, Tsuzuki turned, happy to find that his head didn�t hurt as much. �Yes?�

�You haven�t been having much fun here, have you?� Tatsumi asked, still not looking at him. �First you listen to me as I haggle, then wait as I try to wash my jacket, and just then when I was trying to dispose of our waste products,� Tatsumi seemed to be laughing at himself.

Tsuzuki sat up, happily noticing the room only spun a little. �Don�t worry, I wasn�t that bored, I was-� And he stopped right there in mid-sentence. He had just almost told Tatsumi about Muraki!

�You were what?� Tatsumi asked, watching Tsuzuki apprehensively.

Tsuzuki tried to figure out what to say. �I was . . . watching Blue Jays!� He said quickly. �I was watching Blue Jays, and when I saw you weren�t there, I would try to find you, thinking that I had gotten you angry . . .� He stopped when he saw Tatsumi�s incredulous expression.

�Tsuzuki-san,� Tatsumi said appallingly. �That bird doesn�t exist in Tokyo!� He checked Tsuzuki�s eyes as Tsuzuki went through a mental panic session.

�Birds?� Tsuzuki�s voice wavered. �I meant the people!�

�Maybe you hit your head too hard.� Tatsumi, seeing that Tsuzuki�s eyes were normal (okay, just pretend purple eyes are normal), leaned back from his examination. �Are you feeling better? Would you prefer to go home and rest?� Tatsumi asked.

�Yes and no.� Tsuzuki reassured him. Though it was rather tempting, he didn�t want to think about what Muraki would do if he figured out Tsuzuki had just left him.

Tatsumi looked like he was about to protest, but Tsuzuki shook his head vigorously. �Please don�t worry. I�ll be fine.�

Tatsumi gave him a concerned look as he helped Tsuzuki off of the cot. They headed out the medical tent and back into the fair.

Seeing that Tsuzuki didn�t appreciate the bright sunlight as much as he did before he collided with a telephone booth, Tatsumi led him over towards the food area again. �Would you like some ice cream?� Tatsumi asked when Tsuzuki hadn�t said anything.

Tsuzuki immediately lit up like a light bulb. �Yes!� He cheered. �Lucky!� Tatsumi smiled at Tsuzuki�s reaction.

Tsuzuki studied the flavors, and at length, settled on chocolate. As they walked away, Tsuzuki finally noticed something was amiss.

�Tatsumi, you didn�t get any.� Tsuzuki accused. �Why not?�

Tatsumi gave Tsuzuki a look. �I did not find the desert attractive.� Tatsumi replied evenly. Tsuzuki blinked his large purple eyes at Tatsumi.

�Try some!� Tsuzuki held the ice cream before Tatsumi�s face. �Please!� Tsuzuki begged. Tatsumi waved the cone away.

�No, it is quite alright.�

Tsuzuki opened his mouth to beg some more, but suddenly found his hand holding on to air. Assuming he dropped it, Tsuzuki looked down; hoping that the ice cream was still edible, as Tatsumi probably wouldn�t buy him another one.

He found it, but it was in the mouth of a little puppy. Forgetting about the fact that his desert was currently being eaten, Tsuzuki let out a rather high pitched �Cute!� and, much to Tatsumi�s chagrin, knelt before the young dog.

After finishing off his ice cream cone, leaving the chocolate ice cream to melt on the grass, the puppy started licking Tsuzuki energetically.

Tatsumi shook his head, thinking of the large amount of money that would be added to his water bill from trying to wash all the dirt and saliva out of Tsuzuki�s clothes.

When it heard a high-pitched voice calling for it, the puppy jumped off Tsuzuki and ran into Tatsumi before hurtling in the opposite direction the voice was coming from.

A ten-year-old boy came running up to them. �Misters, did you see my dog?� The boy asked breathlessly.

�The puppy?� Tsuzuki asked. The boy nodded. �It ran away.� Tsuzuki pouted mournfully.

�Will you help me catch him?� The boy asked. �Please?�

�Well,� Tatsumi crouched before the boy, adjusting his glasses. �This seems to be your problem. Though I understand your desire to find your puppy, it would be rather inconvenient for us to do this.� Tatsumi rubbed his hands together greedily. �What would we get if we helped you?� He asked, his glasses glinting.

Tsuzuki blinked at Tatsumi in shock. He never knew Tatsumi would demand a bribe from a child.

The child was surprised as well. �I think I have some yen . . .� The boy held aloft 1000 yen. �It�s my allowance.� Tatsumi frowned at the pathetic offering of money. But still . . . it was enough to make up for Tsuzuki�s lost ice cream, and a little of their lunch.

�Very well.� Tatsumi nodded graciously. �We will assist you in your endeavor.� The boy cheered at this.

�Tsuzuki-san, you shall search by the food area. The young man will continue searching the area outside, and I shall look into the booths, to see if the dog is hiding.� Tatsumi gave Tsuzuki a gentle smile before turning and hurrying off to the exit, the boy following him.

�There you are.� Tsuzuki whirled to confront Muraki. �I suppose I did take long, but you could have waited a few minutes longer.� Muraki appraised Tsuzuki for a while longer, his face expressionless.

�Say, Tsuzuki-san,� Muraki smiled mischievously. �Why don�t we get ice cream?� When Tsuzuki hesitated, he pointed out. �Most couples eat sweets after a meal.�

�Sure,� Tsuzuki replied happily, temporarily forgetting that it was Muraki who was inviting him out for food. �I like ice cream!� He informed Muraki (needlessly) cheerfully as they walked towards the ice cream booth.

Thankfully, the concessionaires didn�t recognize him. Tsuzuki ordered happily, not noticing that Muraki didn�t order anything.

Of course Tsuzuki discovered this when Muraki happily decided to �share� his desert. When Tsuzuki stopped eating, watching with an incredulous expression on his face at Muraki, who delicately lick the sugary mass, Muraki stopped as well.

�I don�t suppose you would mind sharing with me?� Muraki asked innocently, smiling gently. Tsuzuki, belatedly remembering that Muraki had gotten him his ice cream, nodded reluctantly. Muraki smiled and licked once more, before urging Tsuzuki to do the same.

Tsuzuki was starting to feel dizzy. He thought that maybe it was a sugar rush, but he felt less in the lines of �energetic�, and more in the lines of �sick�. For several moments, he contemplated telling Muraki. However, he remembered the last time he had been �sick�, and decided against it.

Muraki noticed Tsuzuki�s pained expression, and carefully cupped Tsuzuki�s cheek. �Tsuzuki-san? Are you feeling well?� Muraki asked softly. Tsuzuki sighed and pressed his head into the pleasantly cool palm.

Muraki looked worried. �Shall I take you home, Tsuzuki-san?� He asked. �I suppose we could reschedule our date.� Muraki walked around the table so he could help Tsuzuki up.

Tsuzuki leaned forward into Muraki�s arms, and suddenly he found that his stomach was feeling much better. His shirt and pants didn�t feel so tight around his stomach, and he felt more joyously alive than he had in the past several minutes.

Muraki was feeling quite the opposite. He blinked slowly, staring through Tsuzuki as if he wasn�t there. Then again Tsuzuki didn�t want the center of his attention, if not more so in that moment.

Tsuzuki was comforted by the fact that Muraki wouldn�t be able to send him the bill for the dry cleaners to get the half digested mass off his formerly pure white trench coat.

They stayed in their respective positions for several seconds. Finally, Muraki excused himself and left.

�Tsuzuki-san!� Tsuzuki jerked around as Muraki�s white back disappeared in the crowd. Tatsumi, holding the struggling puppy strode towards him. �I caught it!� Tatsumi held the whining puppy several inches away from him.

�Yay?� Tsuzuki asked hesitantly. The boy found them.

�You caught him!� The boy cheered. �Thank you!�

�Don�t worry about thanking us.� Tatsumi said kindly. Tsuzuki was about to go when he realized Tatsumi was once again adjusting his glasses meticulously. �However, I do believe you owe us?�

The boy reluctantly held out his allowance money, which Tatsumi graciously accepted. Then the boy ran off, the puppy still struggling frantically.

�Tatsumi . . . you just took money from a kid.� Tsuzuki pointed out. Tatsumi gave him a surprised look.

�Does that bother you?� Tatsumi asked. Tsuzuki nodded and shrugged at the same time. Tatsumi sighed patiently. �Because the child let the puppy escape, the puppy ruined not only your desert, but our time together. It is only fair that the child make up for it.� Tatsumi fingered the yen thoughtfully. �Would you like more ice cream?� He reluctantly offered Tsuzuki.

Much to Tatsumi�s disbelief, Tsuzuki shook his head emphatically. �No!� At Tatsumi�s shocked expression, Tsuzuki elaborated. �I got most of the ice cream you had given me already.� He wasn�t going to explain that it as for the rest of his lunch wound up on Muraki�s trench coat. �Besides, you cherish your money, I don�t want to waste it on me.� Tsuzuki thought he could see an emotion flickering on Tatsumi�s face, but the secretary suppressed it quickly. �Well, let�s go!� Tsuzuki thought he might have heard Tatsumi say something, but he was already out of earshot, forcing the secretary to hurry after him.

�Tsuzuki-san, do you really think that I-� Tatsumi cut himself off. Tsuzuki turned to scrutinize him more carefully.

�Do I think what?� He asked, blinking his large purple eyes at Tatsumi innocently. �Tatsumi?�

Tatsumi, assaulted by these overlarge eyes, swallowed a lump that had somehow formed in his throat. When he tried to speak, his voice came out an octave higher than normal. �Tsuzuki-san, I-� And that was as far as he got before some crazed female interrupted him.

�It�s you!� She screamed, launching herself at Tatsumi, while rudely shoving Tsuzuki out of the way.

�What?� Tatsumi demanded to know. Shoving Tsuzuki in front of him was like asking for a death warrant.

�Wai!�

�What!�

�I found you Wai!�

�What!!

�After all these many years of being separated, I finally found you, my love, my one and only!�

�What!!!�

Once Tsuzuki managed to pick himself of the ground, he saw a familiar white figure moving through the crowds towards him. He glanced at Tatsumi, whose face had gone red as he was trying to detangle himself away from the woman. In this situation, there was only one thing Tsuzuki could do.

He ran.

�Tsuzuki-san!� Tatsumi called out after him. �Wait! This is not what it appears to be!� Tatsumi watched hopelessly as Tsuzuki�s black clad back disappeared into the crowd, leaving him alone with a woman who was currently trying to unbutton his shirt.

�Will you stop that?� He demanded of her.

After running into and nearly knocking over an insurance salesman, Tsuzuki finally caught up to the psycho doctor. Only, something was missing.

�What happened to your trench coat?� Tsuzuki asked by way of greeting. Muraki gave him an impenetrable look.

�Hello Tsuzuki-san.� Muraki greeted him. �As you should recall, you had an accident on it.� Tsuzuki, remembering that, blushed horribly.

Well, not too horribly. Muraki smiled and chuckled at him, brushing a hand against his burning flesh. �Very beautiful.� He commented, stroking his thumb along Tsuzuki�s cheekbone. (Is he trying to distract Tsuzuki?)

Tsuzuki jerked his head away, unnerved by the doctor�s continued advances. Muraki didn�t resist and simply smiled and tugged at Tsuzuki�s arm. �There was a wonderful art gallery a little ways away. Would you like to accompany me there?� Muraki asked sweetly.

Art seemed safe enough. Then again, this was the man who could make him go red with only a wine glass. Still, it was better than other places Muraki might insist they visit. Tsuzuki forced a nod.

Holding on to Tsuzuki�s arm, Muraki threaded through the crowd to a spot near the end of the fair. Tsuzuki was worried that there seemed to be far less crowded than the rest of the fair, but when he saw the art dealers talking with their few customers, he was somewhat relieved. Whatever Muraki could do to him, it was less likely he would do it with an audience.

�Yes, Van Gogh. He is a favorite of mine.� Muraki nearly purred into Tsuzuki�s ear as they stood before a large painting. Muraki slid his hands over Tsuzuki�s back to rest on his shoulders and pressed his cheek lightly against the side of Tsuzuki�s head. �Do you like it?� Muraki�s breath wafted across Tsuzuki�s cheek.

�It�s okay . . .� Tsuzuki hardly noticed the painting, too caught up in trying to struggle free of Muraki�s embrace. After feeling Tsuzuki struggle against him for a long, happy minute, Muraki relaxed his embrace enough for Tsuzuki to burst free.

Muraki shifted his attention to another painting. �Tsuzuki-san, did you know-� Tsuzuki took the break from Muraki�s attentions to try to hurtle away. He managed to get past the art stand when he nearly ran into Tatsumi again.

�Tatsumi!� Tsuzuki squeaked. �You�re here!� Tatsumi didn�t seem to notice his look of horror.

�Yes, I managed to convince that young woman that I was not her missing beloved one.� Tatsumi replied. Mistaking Tsuzuki�s look of disbelief, Tatsumi elaborated. �I convinced her by the fact he had a rather prominent birth mark on his chest. That and he never had any mathematical sense.�

�That�s good!� Tsuzuki said painfully, feeling sick. He could still faintly hear Muraki�s voice from behind a painting. �Why don�t we go away from here?� He suggested quickly, trying to fake a cheerful demeanor.

�If you insist . . .� Tatsumi glanced across the stall. �Oh, this is the art section?� He commented ignoring the fact that Tsuzuki was yanking on his arm with enough force to dislocate his shoulder.

�Yes . . .� Tsuzuki yanked with all his might, and succeeded in pulling Tatsumi off balance. Tatsumi, his eyes as wide as when the woman had accosted him earlier, fell forward, his arms immediately grabbing the nearest objects for support.

If he had been in any other situation than the one he was in, Tsuzuki would have blushed. Tatsumi�s head lay on his chest, and his body over Tsuzuki�s, pinning him to the ground. When he had grabbed Tsuzuki, he had accidentally yanked open Tsuzuki�s trench coat, and undone Tsuzuki�s tie (nearly strangling Tsuzuki in the process). All in all, they were getting rather strange looks from the crowd near them.

Tsuzuki would have been very uncomfortable about this, if he couldn�t see Muraki�s feet and legs under a painting stand. He was panicking, and that reason had little to do with his and Tatsumi�s predicament.

Tsuzuki was brought back to reality when he heard Tatsumi profusely apologizing. Tatsumi helped Tsuzuki up, and brushed off the dirt from Tsuzuki�s coat. �I . . . am very sorry, Tsuzuki-san.� He apologized again.

�Uh, no, it�s my fault.� Tsuzuki made a soothing motion with his hand.

Tatsumi forced a smile and nodded. �Shall we visit the art section and then leave?� Tatsumi asked. �We both have had a rather full day.� Tsuzuki nodded, trying to formulate a plan on escaping so he could remind Muraki that he now owed the doctor nothing.

Tatsumi smiled and then led Tsuzuki away from the stand that Muraki was at. Tsuzuki couldn�t help but sigh in relief.

Wait, no, something was not right.

They turned around a stand, and then Tatsumi stopped to glance at some paintings. Tsuzuki�s feeling of dread increased as he moved away, muttering about horrible prices. This place was ever so slightly familiar . . .

It took another glance as Tatsumi moved further down the isles for Tsuzuki to notice the white figure standing directly across from Tatsumi.

Slamming a palm to his head, Tsuzuki tried to decided whether it would be safer just running away now, or trying to coax one of the men away from the other. (Run Tsuzuki!)

Tatsumi shifted again, and stood not quite so directly behind Muraki. Maybe if he just pretended like everything was going well, they would pass each other without even noticing.

He still wished he wasn�t in such a precarious position. Muraki was starting to finish his lecture, giving him little time to coax either man away. Tatsumi�s voice rang out excitedly as he saw that the painting was reasonably cheap, proving that he wasn�t going to move anytime soon.

Tsuzuki walked over so he stood between the two men, feeling vibes of doom radiate from both.

�Tsuzuki-san, do you think . . .�

�Tsuzuki-san, wouldn�t this . . .�

�Have you ever thought that . . .�

�And look at the price! The price!�

�Say Tsuzuki-san,�

�Tsuzuki-san, I . . .�

With that, both men said something at the same time. Tsuzuki glanced warily from one to the other, wondering why one hadn�t noticed the other by then.

He could respond by saying no. That would handle Muraki. But Tatsumi would immediately go into �scary face mode�. If he said yes . . . A glance at Muraki and a resulting shudder decided it for him.

�Maybe?�

�Good.� If Muraki had been facing him, Tsuzuki knew he would have been grinning evilly.

�Good.� Tsuzuki knew that Tatsumi would be smiling somewhat gratefully. Maybe he should have said no . . .

�Shall we go?� Tatsumi asked, turning. Tsuzuki, seeing him turn, immediately jumped in front of him to keep him from turning any more.

�Okay!� Tsuzuki sighed in relief as Tatsumi grasped the fabric of his coat and gently pulled him away.

�Well, I do believe we should be off.� The voice cut through Tsuzuki�s brain like a knife (All 100%!). Muraki turned enough to see Tsuzuki, grasped his free sleeve cuff, and started moving away from the art center.

In the exact opposite direction that Tatsumi was taking him.

Of course he reached a point where he couldn�t stretch any more. It brought Tatsumi to a jerking halt, causing him to nearly slip on the grass. He turned around to make sure Tsuzuki was all right.

Muraki nearly ripped off the sleeve cuff, the unexpected resistance catching him unawares. Muraki twisted around to see what ailed the purple-eyed shinigami.

As Tsuzuki was several centimeters shorter than the other two men, neither had much difficulty seeing the other over the top of Tsuzuki�s head. Blue eyes met silver in a clash of dominance. The grips on his wrists tightened painfully. The fabric of his coat was pulled taught. If Tsuzuki had been in any other situation, he might have picked up his feet to see if he could stay like that in mid air.

The word of concern Tatsumi was about to say to Tsuzuki caught in his throat, and the only sound to emerge was a choking one of surprise. The secretary�s eyes were as hard as glass as he glared with an intensity he had never shown to Tsuzuki right over Tsuzuki�s head.

Muraki met that glare with a cool calculating one of his own. From Tsuzuki�s vantage point, he could see that the doctor�s mouth was twitching somewhere between a dangerous sneer and a dark grin.

Finally, it was Tatsumi who broke the deadly silence, which had settled between them. �Doctor.� As he said the word, the shadow by the stand flickered. �If I may ask, what are you doing here?� Tsuzuki decided it was better not to look at Tatsumi�s face. The expression on it was scaring him.

Muraki�s eyes flashed darkly. �I could ask you the same, Tatsumi-san.� Tsuzuki wondered how he could meet Tatsumi�s eyes with the expression on Tatsumi�s face. �I do believe you are interloping on Tsuzuki and me.� Muraki yanked hard on Tsuzuki�s arm, forcing the defenseless Shinigami to stumble towards him.

�It is the other way around, doctor. You are quite rudely disturbing my colleague�s and my free day.� If looks could kill, Muraki would have been dead twice over by then. Tatsumi�s grip tightened crushingly around Tsuzuki�s wrist as he held on tightly, pulling the limb towards himself. �It would be best if you were to leave us this instant.�

�Tatsumi-san, as much as I enjoy your company,� As Muraki spoke those words, Tsuzuki wondered if the sarcasm they were laced with was dripping on the floor. �I do have plans for today. Plans that by no means include you.� He pulled Tsuzuki�s arm even closer to him. �Do us both a favor and leave this place.�

Tatsumi�s mouth twisted in a reply, as he pulled even tighter on Tsuzuki�s arm. However whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a loud, rude ripping noise.

On a good part, the ripping sound had distracted both Tatsumi and Muraki from their �greetings�. Now both men stared at Tsuzuki in surprise, him being the source of the ripping sound.

�Let go!� Tsuzuki cried out in horror. Tatsumi complied quickly, jerking back as if Tsuzuki�s wrist had turned red hot. Muraki loosened his grip enough for Tsuzuki to jerk his arm away.

Rubbing his wrists, Tsuzuki watched both men warily out of the corners of his eyes. If either said anything and the other listened, then his ruse would be over.

The sleeve of his jacket (the jacket being the only thing he could salvage from his apartment), alighted on the ground while the other sleeve slid low over his wrist. Tsuzuki�s eyes grew big and watery.

Trying to distract Tsuzuki, Tatsumi crouched low and grasped an abused wrist in a comfortingly loose grip. �Are you alright?� He asked fearfully.

The voice by Tsuzuki�s ear made him jump and nearly knock heads with Tatsumi. �Of course not.� Muraki chided, lightly running his fingers over Tsuzuki�s other wrist. �Why exactly are you here, Tatsumi-san?� Muraki asked dangerously politely. �Attempting to rescue Tsuzuki-san from our date?�

�Date?� Tsuzuki felt his temperature drop. Tatsumi shot Muraki a glare over Tsuzuki�s head. �What date? I�m here to help Tsuzuki-san shop.�

Muraki stared at Tatsumi for a long moment. � . . . shopping? You and Tsuzuki-san are shopping?� He asked incredulously. �Tsuzuki-san and I are . . .� Muraki shifted his gaze to Tsuzuki. To make things more uncomfortably, Tatsumi scrutinized Tsuzuki as well.

�Tsuzuki-san?� Tatsumi�s voice sounded as if he was trying to restrain the urge to throttle him. �Would you care to explain this?� He asked.

�No?�

�Tsuzuki-san.� Muraki�s voice hid things Tsuzuki didn�t want to think about. �I suppose I will have to figure out something else for you to do as payment.� A hand suggestively slid along Tsuzuki�s thigh, carefully out of Tatsumi�s sightline.

�Tsuzuki-san.� Tatsumi wasn�t bothering to hide the fact he was angry. �We�re going home.� Though his grasp wasn�t as bone crushing as it had been, it was still rather uncomfortable as the secretary dragged him off.

Muraki gave Tsuzuki a heated look as he watched the Shinigami slide over the ground on his back.

***

Tsuzuki was certain that Tatsumi was angry. As they swerved and barely missed an oncoming car, going about thirty kilometers over the limit, Tsuzuki was very certain that Tatsumi was angry.

It was about then that Tsuzuki remembered something. �Tatsumi?� He asked timidly.

The car nearly toppled as they turned. �Yes, Tsuzuki-san?� Tatsumi�s voice was as strained as the white knuckles that clutched the steering wheel.

�Did you remember to get the shirts?� Tsuzuki asked. (Is he trying to help the situation or make it worse?)

He was nearly thrown through the windshield as Tatsumi�s car skidded to a stop. �Shirts?� Tatsumi asked, his anger forgotten. �I left them with you.� He informed Tsuzuki, near panicking. �Did you forget . . .?� Tsuzuki�s face said it all for him. The car started up, and though it wasn�t at the breakneck speed it had been, Tatsumi was still too distracted for it to be safe.

***

It was about nine in the morning when Tsuzuki showed up for work. He wondered why Tatsumi hadn�t wakened him this morning. He had gotten used to it in the past week that he had been staying at the secretary�s house and when he had waken up ten minutes ago, had been quite disorientated.

�Tsuzuki-san!� The voice cut through his trail of thoughts.

Warily Tsuzuki turned to regard a grinning Tatsumi. �Yes?� He asked nervously. Tatsumi never grinned like that unless . . .

�Tsuzuki-san, I do believe you will find that your former office is currently being used as storage. However, I was able to save you another space. Please follow me.� Still smiling benignly, Tatsumi led Tsuzuki down the hall.

When they stopped before the door, Tsuzuki looked at Tatsumi quizzically. Tatsumi nodded indulgently.

The sign had once upon a time said, �Broom Closet�. However a neat line through the exact center crossed out the words. Underneath the crossed out words �Tsuzuki�s Office� was written in Tatsumi�s handwriting.

Another glance at Tatsumi. Another indulgent nod. Tsuzuki shook his head, and carefully opened the door.

Inside the only thing that would fit was a chair. The walls were barely large enough for his shoulders to fit in. It reminded him eerily of his former apartment.

Tatsumi joyfully handed him a stack of paperwork. �Have fun!� Tatsumi called out, closing the door on Tsuzuki, leaving the purple-eyed shinigami in complete darkness.

(Lesson: Never give the department secretary a need to think of creative ways of revenge.)

***

Tatsumi says:

Appearing before us is not Tatsumi, but Watari (with 003 on his shoulder). In fact, the person beside Watari isn�t Tatsumi either. However, before we can figure out who the dark figure is, Watari grabs the camera so it focuses completely on him.

�We�re here to tell you something very important.� Watari informs us gravely. �Something that I fear several people may be missing.� He is obviously getting riled up over this, as 003 is fluttering frantically around him. Watari takes a deep breath before continuing. �Tatsumi, Tsuzuki, Hisoka, and Muraki are not the only men in Yami no Matsuei.� (Really?)

Watari starts pacing and accidentally goes off screen while he does this. While he�s walking, we can see that the camera is in a laboratory with overflowing beakers and bunson burners. 003 goes off to save a beaker from overflowing into another one.

Watari is speaking while he paces. �For example, look at this whole fan fic! I don�t have any lines until the end! Who reads the end! Does anyone except for Tsuzuki, Tatsumi and Muraki get mentioned in this monstrosity? No!� Watari stops to glare at the camera. �I�m getting outdone by a person who disappeared mysteriously in the 2nd manga! Where was Tatsumi when Tsuzuki was possessed and attacking JoOhCho?� Considering his point proven, Watari continues to pace with 003 returning to flutter around him.

He starts to say something else until someone rudely coughs to get his attention. Watari stops puzzled, before nodding in agreement.

�However, I am not complaining next to poor Touda.�

�Don�t patronize me.� The person we can only assume to be the one from the beginning growls warningly.

Watari shakes his head before leaning in close to whisper secretively into the camera. �The poor guy has nearly no foreign fans.� Watari confides. �Just about everyone gets together with Tsuzuki . . . everyone but him that is. He�s not happy about this at all.�

Watari leans back and smiles cheerfully. �So, we�ll accept nearly anything. Go ahead and put us together with Tsuzuki, we won�t mind . . . at least he might not, I�d prefer not to, but beggars can�t be choosers . . .� Someone wraps a clawed hand into Watari�s hair and yanks hard.

The camera is knocked over, and turns off.

Author�s notes: Yes, I�m pretty sure Watari does have a decent sized fan club out there. But I needed to work him in somehow. However, poor Touda is barely mentioned at all. And he has the coolest hair adornments ever! Really!

End of part 3





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