Ragnarok

The End Is Only The Beginning

 

 

            It could be described as perfection incarnate.

 

            A soft, cool spring wind flowed through the trees, courting maiden leaves in hushed whispers.  They swayed in delight at the courtship, yet stayed and declined a dance with the wind.

 

            A stream ran through the clearing, the water clear and easily mistaken for liquid air.  The sun struck the water in flashes of silver, as shadowed shapes danced among the rocks.  The river sung, its bell-like voice mixing with the hushed whispers – yet all else was silence.

 

            A pair of large, feather wings were splayed across the grass – maiden white and crimson red mixing together, contrasting with black silk.  A pearly hand lay outstretched toward the brook, fingers curled.  Fine, gold-spun hair, once teased by cool breezes, hung in soaked, tainted clumps, a colourful shield for a corpse’s brow.  Black lashes lay against washed-out cheeks, forever shielding their charges from both pain and comfort alike.

 

            Nearby, a Sakura tree wept, spilling pale, silken tears for the death of an angel.

 

           

            Sakura bloomed throughout Meifu – eternally living, eternally dying.  They brought an abundance of varied emotions to those who saw them – sometimes peace, sometimes pain, but always a sense of longing.

 

            But was it the emotions projected by the Sakura themselves? Or, perhaps, were they simply a medium, a natural mirror that reflected the inner most workings of the heart?  And, if so, did they also feel that pain themselves?  Such were the thoughts on some of the more contemplative minds – the minds that craved peace and solitude, the minds that were confident that their search for such a peace had surely, at last, been completed.

 

            After all, what greater peace was there than the tranquil peace of death?

 

 

“HIIIIIIIIIIIISOKAAAAAA~!!!!!!!”

 

The pained, whiny voice broke the fragile stillness of Meifu.  It was picked up, and carried though the wind, determined to spread its message of cruelty and plain, general unfairness to anyone within hearing distance.  People looked up, and upon seeing golden hair and amethyst eyes, would resume their tasks, one thought floating through their minds.  ‘Them again.’

 

Hisoka did not walk to work that day – rather, he stalked.  It seemed as if life – or death, rather, since it was quite a certain fact that he was, indeed, quite dead – had decided to be a bitch to him today.  Disturbed by the weird, repetitive dreams that had cycled through his head for the past week, the green-eyed youth had been dismayed to learn that he was – for once – late for work.  And – as if things weren’t already bad enough – he had met up with Tsuzuki in his rush to correct his mistake – a Tsuzuki who seemed to be working even harder than ever to piss him off.   He sighed as he paused in his tracks, whirling around to glare at his partner –

 

Only to collapse onto the ground, a heated blush staining his cheeks at the compromising situation he was suddenly finding himself in.  A remote part of his mind noted – with a mixture of relief and exasperation – the lack of reaction the local population had to this incident.  Then again, living within the same city as one Asato Tsuzuki could do that to you.

 

“You~!!”  Sparking emerald glared at amused amethyst as Hisoka lifted himself up until he was nearly nose-to-nose with his exasperating partner.  “You idiot!!  What the hell were you doing, walking so close?!”

 

“Ehehehehehehe….” The sprouting of pointed ears and fluffy tail heralded the arrival of Inu-Tsuzuki.  “Gomen, gomen!  I didn’t know you would be stopping so suddenly!”

 

A sudden throbbing in his temple brought along an errant thought – could Shinigami suffer from high blood pressure?  Perhaps that’s why Tsuzuki couldn’t keep a partner for so long…

 

“You didn’t answer my question, baka,” he scoffed, a frown appearing on his face.  Tsuzuki shifted again, and the Hisoka’s blush increased as he felt the older man’s hips grind into his own.  An innocent accident, he knew, but it was enough to swing his own train of thought to…less decent things.  “Never mind, just get…off…”

 

However, instead of complying with his perfectly logical request the older man brought up one tanned hand, laying it across creamy skin.  “Ne, Hisoka, do you have a fever?  You’re all red…”

 

“Get…OFF!!!”

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

            There are many shades of darkness.  There are many flurries of emotions associated with each darkness.  However, all types of darkness can be sorted into two categories.

 

            First, there is the comfortable darkness.  Warmth, child-like conspiracies, giggles, and sleepovers – all precious memories remembered by this darkness.  It frequents the children, a protector of young dreams as they grow and mature.

 

            Then, there is painful darkness.  Fear, death, and monsters-under-the-bed make their homes in this darkness.  A sense of madness, it frequents everyone, spreading its chilly touch.  It is the keeper of tears and blood, silence and despair.

 

            The darkness blanketing a rundown alley of Kyuushuu was of the latter variety – a chilly, pulsating shadow acting as a gateway for the monsters of the human mind.  Akane shivered, her breath solidifying in the wintry air as she drew her jacket tighter round her lithe body – a futile effort to preserve heat.  Her pumps beat a steady, staccato rhythm against washed out grey brick, playing harmony to the frosty whisper of the wind.

 

            Shadows wavered on the buildings around her – inhuman shadows with thick claws and gnashing teeth that flickered in the fading lamp light, fighting to exist.  A little click, like the sound of a claw ghosting over stone, caught the young woman’s attention.  She whirled, her red hair fanning out behind her as wide, cerulean eyes sought the spot where the mysterious noise had shattered the eerie stillness.

 

            A few shadows in a connecting alleyway detached themselves from their brethren, gliding toward her from behind.  They made no sound, and despite physical appearance, seemed more monstrous than the fiends caged on the surrounding walls.  Akane was so absorbed in her search that she failed to notice them.

 

            She never even got the chance to scream.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

            “Tsuzuki-san, Kurosaki-kun, you’re both late.”  Tatsumi’s silky voice stopped the duo in their tracks.  His tone was soft – deceptively soft – and that meant only one thing.  Trouble.  The secretary scrutinized the two of them, the calculating gaze taking in both Hisoka’s frown and Tsuzuki’s pout without changing a hair or giving a hint of the man’s thoughts.  “Since it is such a rarity, Kurosaki-kun, I will be lenient – just make certain to keep this from becoming a habit.”

 

            The young empath hoped his relief wasn’t evident on his face.

 

            “However, Tsuzuki-san…”  The man in question yelped, ducking behind his smaller partner.  Tatsumi sighed as if pained, glancing down at his wristwatch.  “Your punishment will have to wait until later.  I imagine everyone is already waiting for the staff meeting to begin.”

 

            “Staff meeting?”  Hisoka inquired, falling in step behind the older man.  “I thought no staff meetings were scheduled for today.”

 

            “Something came up.”  The reply was short, clipped, and to the point.

 

            Tsuzuki walked to the right of his partner and one step behind, determined to keep as much distance between Tatsumi and himself as possible.  The trio traveled in silence down the halls of JuOhCho – a rarity for Tsuzuki – the only sound being the click of shoes on tile.  Hisoka mulled over the situation and the possibility of a new mission, Tatsumi’s thoughts were his own, and Tsuzuki kept one wary eye firmly on the secretary.

 

            After all, in a battle to the death – even after death – it was best to always keep an eye on the enemy.  There was no way he would let the frugal man threaten all the sweets just waiting to be eaten. 

 

            Everyone was indeed already in the staff room, seated and waiting for the meeting to begin.  Tsuzuki looked around the room – but the only two seats available were between Watari…and Terazuma.  As if alerted by ‘Tsuzuki-radar’ the other Shinigami looked up, locking gazes with his nemesis.  Amethyst eyes narrowed as the usually genki man clenched his fists.  He could feel a surge of red anger boiling up –

 

            A small elbow imbedded itself in his side.  Surprised, Tsuzuki broke eye contact to look down, but the young empath wasn’t even looking at him.  They stayed that way for a moment or two before Hisoka broke contact, satisfied that his partner had settled down.

 

            The older man watched as his partner stalked toward the table, seating himself in the chair beside Terazuma.  The altered Shinigami, in turn, scooted his chair a little closer to Wakaba – he deemed the younger man as the greater threat.  A small part of Tsuzuki smirked in a satisfied sort of way – only his partner could extract that sort of reaction – but even that small bit of pleasure evaporated as the white-hot emotion of jealousy shot through his veins.  He clamped down mental shields as Hisoka shuddered, emerald eyes snapping up as they scrutinized everyone in the room.  The young empath frowned – the feeling, as powerful as it was, passed in a moment too brief for him to determine its source.  Who felt that powerful emotion – what caused it?

 

            “Kurosaki-kun…is there something wrong?”

 

            “No…nothing.”  Movement at the corner of his eye alerted him to Tsuzuki seating himself in the last available chair next to Watari…a Watari whose usual genki smile was, for some reason, replaced with an amused grin.  Hisoka dismissed the image – he wasn’t even going to begin deciphering the scientist’s emotions.

 

            Clearing his throat, Tatsumi rifled through his files, distributing one manila folder for each pair of Shinigami.  “This, everyone, is probably the greatest emergency JuOhCho has ever faced.  These murders are simply what they are – murders.  However, in each of these cases the soul has disappeared, vanishing from the face of the Earth.  So far, the souls of nine victims have reappeared in Hell without facing judgment.”  A low, shocked murmur arose at the statement.

 

            “Without judgment?!  Is that even possible?” One voice rose shrilly.

 

            “Of course it is, moron!” Another voice called out.  “It wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t!”

 

            Hioka shifted in agitation – the fear, anger, and panic circulating around the room stretching his shields to the limit.  Tsuzuki glanced at him sideways, careful to keep his concern from leaking out.  The boy would surely mistake it for pity, and he was volatile about that subject even without outside influences.

 

            “Is this just happening in Japan?”

 

            Tatsumi glanced askance at the slight strain in the empath’s voice, but kept his thoughts to himself.  “No – there have been reports of similar things occurring in China, Russia, Great Britain, and the Americas.  However, the largest concentration is here, in Japan, and thus the case has been assigned to us.”

 

            Hisoka gritted his teeth – he could barely hear the secretary through all of the commotion – and the noise was simply increasing.  The emotions, combined with a lack of sleep, snapped his already thin patience.  “Shut up!” He yelled, slamming the palms of his hands against the table for emphasis.  Those around him backed away nervously as he stood and stormed out of the staff room.

 

            “Ah!  Wait, Hisoka!”  Tsuzuki jumped up and followed his partner, the only man brave – or stupid – enough to risk the empath’s wrath.  Silence descended upon the room at the pair’s departure.  Tatsumi frowned at the door – that was twice in one day the teen had acted strangely.  His face smoothed out as he observed the rest of the room – at least the outburst had one positive outcome.

 

            “This case has been given top priority – meaning all other cases will be dropped until further notice.  I hope everyone –”

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

            Hisoka collapsed at his desk, burying his face in his hands.  The foreign emotions diffused in the air as his muscles slowly relaxed.  What was wrong with him – was he getting sick?  A feeling of fatigue had settled itself on his shoulders – robbing him of energy, patience, hunger, and even balance.  Ever since he started having those damn dreams…

 

            “Ah – Hisoka?  You okay?”  His partner’s voice dissipated the brooding gloom that had descended upon the room.  The older man’s emotions washed over him like a gentle wave – concern, worry, and a hint of something he couldn’t identify.

 

            The empath sighed, picking his head up to stare at his partner – dulled emerald eyes becoming unfocused as the room became fuzzy.  Golden lashes descended, slowly hiding their charges from the room as the young Shinigami collapsed atop his desk.

 

            “Hisoka!”

 

            It was dark.  There was nothing here – no feeling, smell, shadows – only a complete sense of emptiness.  He tried to move and nearly panicked – he couldn’t even feel his body!  It was if he simply…existed.  Where was he?

 

            He blinked – the last thing he remembered was storming out of the staff meeting and…collapsing?  Was he unconscious then?

 

            ‘Who are you?’ 

 

            He cringed – the soundless voice penetrating his brain as alien emotions flooded his body.  He could feel his shields cracking for the second time that day.

 

            ‘Who are you?’ The voice demanded again.  ‘What are you doing in my head?’

 

            Another wave of emotion completely shattered the young empath’s shields, leaving him completely open and defenseless.  He was losing himself – losing his identity and emotions, merging with the voice.  “Stop it!” He cried out.  “Stop it!”  The tide of emotions tapered off.

 

            He could feel himself falling…

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

            Tsuzuki wrung his hands as he sat by his partner’s bedside.  The young empath was unnaturally pale, nearly blending in with the infirmary bedsheets.  Even his hair seemed limp, clinging to his brow in clumps as cold sweat trickled across his temple.

 

            Watari said he was suffering from exhaustion.  Tsuzuki hated when this happened – hated when his treasured partner kept things from him.  Secrets were one thing – everyone had them – but to fall ill like this…

 

            “You can’t be serious!” His head snapped up toward the door – was that Watari?  “Bon is suffering from exhaustion!  Tatsumi, Konoe-kachou, you can’t still be sending them down to Chijou!”

 

            “They’re to be sent by Enma-daioh’s orders,” Konoe stated, his voice heavy with regret.  “I’m sorry, Watari, but they must be sent – he specifically asked for those two.”

 

            “But –!”

 

            “Watari-san.”  Tatsumi’s voice cut the blonde scientist off.  “We like this no more than you, but there is now way we can defy a direct order from him.  Now, if we could all calm down – this is the infirmary, and people are resting.”  Watari’s reply was to whisper fiercely, still arguing over the health of his patient.

 

            Tsuzuki moved closer to the door, trying to catch the frantic whispering between the trio.  The effort proved futile, however, and he soon returned to his silent vigil.  It would be good to look like he was eavesdropping, after all.

 

            “I’ll go speak with him.”  A barely audible click sounded as the door opened, admitting a rush of air.  “Tsuzuki-san.”  A manila folder slid into view.  “The case files you left at the staff meeting.”

 

            From the other side of the doorway Konoe watched the interaction between his employees, frowning in concern.  Even he was baffled by the order to force Tsuzuki and Hisoka to work on this case.  The only clue he had received was when Enma-daioh murmured,

            ‘Events have come full circle once more.  I hope these two are prepared for what shall happen.’

 

            Very strange indeed.  Almost as strange as the order to pair up the two Shinigami in the first place.  Konoe had a terrible feeling that something bad would happen soon to his employees.  He hated not knowing how to prevent it.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

            Hisoka grunted as he made contact with the ground.  In a way, slamming into damp earth felt good – something finally ending the feeling of nothingness permeating his bones.

 

            But that didn’t mean it felt physically good.  Groaning, he opened his eyes – receiving a second, welcoming, surprise.

 

            Sunlight filtered through the canopy of the trees, casting a warm glow on everything.  The fresh grass, wet with dew, stuck to his skin as he lay on the ground, basking in the simple ability to feel.

 

            /…Shock.  Surprise.  Horror…/

 

            The sudden emotions jolted the empath out of his reverie.  Springing to his feet, he was surprised to feel the lack of fatigue that had plagued him earlier.  Was he dreaming, then?  Shifting, he hissed in pain as a nearby tree branch slashed his face, drawing blood.  It certainly didn’t feel like a dream.

 

            Two streaks flashed by him – one russet red, the other coal black.  Sparks flew from unseen collisions as they circled the clearing.  Trees groaned in pain as they lost limbs, and branches swayed in grief as their leaves were split in half.

 

            Quiet sobs drew his attention downward.  Kneeling there, crying in fear, was a little girl.  Her skin was translucent, coloring the grass peach.  It was a condition – as a Shinigami – Hisoka had seen different people in numerous times.  Looking to the left he saw her body – nearly unrecognizable.  The pale skin was almost completely covered in crimson stain, and the limbs bent at unnatural angles.

 

            A sense of horror overcame him as he felt something trickle down his temple.  Trembling fingers brushed his skin and came back sticky.  It wasn’t dew that stuck the grass to his skin…

 

            In all his years as a Shinigami, the one thing he never forgot was awakening in the blood of a little girl.

 

            A silence descended upon the clearing – stifling and oppressive.  It was a silence that restricted – making it hard to move, hard to breathe.  It wrapped around the empath in a lover’s embrace, his heart racing as it whispered sweet nothings of panic in his ear.

 

            A shrill scream pierced the silence, driving it away.  Hisoka’s head whipped around as if pulled by a string.  Another, weaker scream rang out, followed by the dull thud of a body collapsing on the ground.

 

            The two streaks coalesced themselves into two beings who were definitely not human. 

 

            Lying on the ground, twitching weakly, was a demon.  Humanoid in shape, his skin was stained a russet red and stretched over abnormally large muscles.  Two thin fangs, coated in crimson and yellow, peeked out under a busted lip.  His ears were elongated and pointed, ending in tufts of dark hair.  The demon was dressed only in earth-colored pants – possibly because of the giant, bat-like wings growing out of his back. 

 

            Those wings, once a terrible beauty, lay crumpled beneath his broken body.  Hollow bones crushed beyond repair, membranes torn, they were reminiscent of a ghostship’s sail.

 

            His opponent, though no more human, was an ethereal contrast.  Golden hair swayed, teased by the cool breeze.  The pale skin seemed to glow, unblemished despite the recent battle.  In contrast the black silk uniform seemed to absorb light, the dark color hiding any wounds received by sharp claws and teeth.  A pair of silky, feathery wings sprouted near his shoulder blades, cascading in pale waves to his knees and arching over his head in a gentle, graceful slope.  Their color was nearly discernable – you could spend an eternity debating between maiden white and sterling silver.

 

            This being left his fallen opponent, seemingly unconcerned as a shadowy creature descended upon the body.  Hisoka took a few steps forward, placing himself between the stranger and the girl.  “Ano…”

 

            Who are you?  What is going on?  Why can’t I sense you?  These were few of the questions that bubbled in his mind – questions that never found voice.

 

            The being ignored him – in fact, didn’t even seem to see him – eyes focusing on the girl.  The young empath shuddered as the being passed through him, oblivious to his existence.

 

            “Little girl, what’s your name?”

 

            The child’s sobs subsided.  “Seiitsu,” she replied softly, glancing up with red, puffy eyes.

 

            “Well, Seiitsu, I’m here to take you away.” He – as the being was definitely a male – reached out a hand.  The little girl, however, flinched and backed away.

 

            “No!”  She cried out.  “I don’t wanna go to Hell!”

 

            “Hell?” He echoed back.  “Why would I take you to Hell?”

 

            “Because Daddy says Seiitsu is a bad girl, and all bad girls go to Hell!”

 

            “You’re not going to Hell,” he stated firmly, crouching down to eye level with the child.  “I’m here to take you to Heaven.”

 

            “Really?” She brightened, the tension in her shoulders slowly dissipating.

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “Yatta!”  Without warning the little girl launched herself into his arms, her tiny hands clasping his uniform.  Chuckling, he secured her in place and stood.  She wiggled around a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position.  Her warm, chocolate brown eyes widened as she noticed his wings for the first time.  “Ano…what are you?”

 

            Sunlight glinted off of silk feathers as the two wings started to unfold, casting an ethereal glow.  “Tenshi da.”

 

 

 

 

Author’s Notes ~ Longer that I expected…I might make this the first chapter instead of just a prologue….

 

            *Grins*  This is probably a bit confusing – well, for the readers because if I was confused that would be a bit of a bad thing.  =P  Most questions will be answered within subsequent chapters, whenever I get done torturing a few people with a little suspense, anyway.

 

            Oh, right, and “Tenshi” = “Angel” for those of you who didn’t get the last bit.

 

Disclaimer ~ I don’t own YnM.  Because if I did own YnM, I wouldn’t make it so hard to find a way to torture Muraki.  I don’t hate him…but *Grins* I certainly believe he should have a taste of his own medicine.