Warnings: A bit of this and that, characters not following my orders
and doing whatever they feel like, and just a hint of non-con (nothing serious,
I promise).
Ragnarok
The End is Only the Beginning
There are many theories on life, death, and the afterlife.
Many, many threads.
Ice Sapphire, Cold Emerald, Fragmented Amethyst. Genki Gold, Spring
Green. All of them, interwoven
together. Spun pattern after spun pattern after spun pattern.
There is the
Christian belief that life, death, and the afterlife is all one, straight
line. You are born, you live, you die,
and you are judged. There is no chance
to correct mistakes, except through purgatory.
There is the Buddhist belief in Nirvana and the Hinduism
belief in Karma. Nirvana, a constant
search for the self and the loss of the binding “personality”, a belief similar
to that of Karma, eternal reincarnation for the sole purpose of discovering the
basic principles of life.
A tapestry. A
woven picture of that which was, the weaving of that which is, and the hints of
that which will be. Possessing both
Chaos and Order; Unpredictable.
All of them,
Enma-daioh mused, were both right and wrong.
As if the truth had scattered, repelling each other, gathering up an
illusion of lies in a challenge to the eternal human questing of the self.
He looked down at the red thread in his hands, the
deceptively fragile material intertwined with his slender fingers. Cats Cradle it was called, in some
countries, a childish game to be played singularly or in pairs. It was nothing more than a game of creation,
something to tantalize the curiosity.
He laughed; it was also, to his ever-renewing amusement, the closest
thing that mortals had ever thought up of that could compare with the Life
Tapestry. And, to them, simply nothing
more than a child’s game.
How Ironic.
Many patterns, shapes and designs. Many, spanning many eons and many places,
continuing on – The Beginning hidden in shadow, and The Ending never
written. An unsolved puzzle to the
enlightened mind – did The Beginning and The Ending even exist?
Enma-daioh looked up from his game, his attention
diverted back to the pattern forming within the Tapestry. It was a pattern he was all too familiar
with. Always different, yet never
changing. Always with different
colours, yet the core always remained the same: Sapphire, Gold, Amethyst,
Emerald…
…and Shadow.
There is always one pattern that eternally repeats
itself, a phenomenon that has never been solved. It, like The Life Tapestry, simply Is – nothing to explain,
nothing to solve, simply something to exist.
This pattern has been given a name, something that strikes fear into the
minds of those who understand, it’s coming always shaking the Worlds to their foundations.
It is Ragnarok.
It is the End of the World.
“Enma-daioh-sama! Enma-daioh-sama!” The Death Deity sighed, turning to face his subordinates.
“Oh, yes. I nearly forgot about the meeting. Extend my apologies to those waiting and
tell them I will arrive shortly.”
“At once, Enma-daioh-sama!” The subordinate scampered out of the room and zoomed down the
hallway.
Enma glanced back, only once, at the Life Tapestry before
departing. The beginning weaves of
Ragnarok had come too soon – his preparations stood only half-complete, and the
major players untrained and unprepared for what lay ahead.
But perhaps this time, this time those two might be
spared.
But perhaps not.
One could never predict Ragnarok – not its coming, not its leaving, not
the events it will use to mark those involved.
He, after all, was also a by-product of the last weaving of
Ragnarok. He was not the one capable of
foreseeing that which could happen.
He could only dream.
He could only wish. He could
only grope blindly through the dark and hope for a favourable result.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Tatsumi-san, here are the latest case files.” The secretary of JuOhCho sighed, resisting
the urge to run a hand through impeccable chocolate hair as he stared at the
newest manila folder in morbid amusement.
He, Konoe, and Watari were the only ones not assigned to field duty – he
to process the cases arriving daily, Konoe to foresee that everything was
running smoothly, and Watari to…
…actually, he didn’t know why Watari wasn’t assigned
field duty. The only answer he’d gotten
from the scientist was an unintelligible mutter and the phrase “unsolved
mystery” before the blonde shut himself away in the library of all
places.
Well, it wasn’t because he thought the library was a
loathsome place, mind, just that it wasn’t a place Watari associated with
himself outside of work – he often replied that the equipment was much better
in his lab when asked.
Tatsumi blinked, as if trying to clear his vision, before
opening the manila folder. This situation
was very simple, he simply had to boil it down to a few facts: Watari + Library = Work. Work = Good. Thus, Watari + Library = Good.
And there was no reason to worry about good things, right? It simply wasted time.
Now, if he just kept telling himself that perhaps he
could work and stop worry over Watari’s odd behavior. After all, the scientist’s personal problems were none of his
concern, and there was nothing he could do anyway. Best to ponder about things he could do something about.
If only that nagging feeling would disappear…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hindsight is both a curse and a blessing to humanity – it
allows us to see our mistakes, and plagues countless thousands with “could have
done”s and “should have done”s. It is
also an indicator of survival – those who don’t survive the sparking incident
see no purpose in plaguing themselves.
There are incidents in life however, Hisoka mused, in
which hindsight couldn’t be used. And
this was definitely one of them. There
was no “could have” or “should have” – there wasn’t anytime to even react.
Which is how Hisoka found himself facing a speeding
truck, it’s horn blaring like the bugle of a raging bull.
‘This…is not good.’
Shinigami, Hisoka knew, could take quite a lot more
damage and easily survive physically traumatic events than a normal human,
coming out relatively unscathed. He was
also certain, however, that this ability didn’t quite extend to being run over
and possibly dismembered.
He idly recalled, as all those in dire peril do, a
nursery rhyme his mother used to read to him back before he was locked
away. He couldn’t quite remember
the entire story about that wall and that egg, though. But, he wondered, could any of the other
Shinigami put him back together again?
There was a flash of darkness. And black wings. A flying
sensation soon accompanied these images, and the blonde found himself off the
street and on a high rooftop not far from where he was nearly mowed down.
Of course, he was also staring down one of the most hideous
demons he had ever seen.
Quite frankly, he would have preferred the truck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A cool rush of air
slipped passed Tatsumi’s face, sliding through strands of chocolate hair as it
rushed toward freedom. He shivered
slightly as he looked around for the Gushoshin – the library had always been
too chilly for his tastes, yet another reason to not come here on a regular
basis.
“Tatsumi-san?”
The younger Gushoshin called out, floating behind the secretary. “Wow, it is so unusual to see Tatsumi-san in
the library these days!” It chirped out, smiling. Tatsumi wasn’t sure how the Gushoshin smiled with beaks
instead of mouths – but, then again, nobody could possibly understand
everything about them.
Not even, he suspected, the Gushoshin themselves.
Mentally berating himself for the irrelevant train of
thought, he turned toward the younger sibling, his normal, stoic mask firmly in
place. “Actually, I need you to run an
errand for me and retrieve Yuma and Saya from duty as swiftly as possible. It’s important.”
It nodded. “Of course, Tatsumi-san! Right away!” It paused, an almost devilish grin curving
its beak. “However, Tatsumi-san, since
I’m to leave right away, I need you to bring these books to Watari-san. Poor Watari-san has been hard at work with
nothing to look at but these books! I’m sure he’ll appreciate seeing you.” The secretary blinked – had the librarian
stressed the ‘you’, or was that simply his imagination?
If it had not been contrary to his character, Tatsumi
would have sighed at the librarian’s fleeing back. Sometimes he wondered if there was something conspiring against
him, something that was determined to keep him from pulling the Shokan division
out of the red areas of budget management.
He squared his shoulders. Well, if there was such a conspiracy, he was about to go
see one of the masterminds.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tsuzuki blinked, trying to adjust his eyes from the
change of the low, artificial glow of lamps to the harsh sunlight outside. He searched the surrounding area for his
partner, his sweeping gaze searching for a mop of gold hair that shone from the
sea of black. He wasn’t sure why Hisoka
waited outside – after all, who could resist the temptations of a candy store?
A slight splinter of panic wedged itself within Tsuzuki’s
mind as what started out as a calm search became a frantic scour. His partner was nowhere in sight.
A flash of something invaded his mind. It disappeared before he could identify
quite what it was, but in retrospect, he didn’t care.
He turned heel, speeding down the sidewalk, his black
trench coat flapping in the speed-made breeze like forgotten wings. He didn’t care about the what or the
how. Right now, all that mattered was
that he knew where Hisoka was.
And, even worse, that the blonde empath had gotten himself into another
dangerous situation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Even hideous, Hisoka decided, was definitely an
understatement. In fact, he wasn’t
quite sure if there was a man-made word that could possibly describe the demon
before him. Possibly grotesque, but he
had a feeling it was still a stretch.
The demon seemed ready to pop out of its leathery,
scarred skin. The crimson red of its
flesh seemed stretched over muscle like a cat suit, emphasizing too-large
muscles and a misshapen, tangled spider web of veins. Pink scars crisscrossed its flesh, as if the demon’s creator had
been dissatisfied with his creation and dismantled it several times. Only to recreate it over, and over, and over
again.
Hisoka’s gaze slid lower before snapping back up to its
shoulders, embarrassed crimson and sickened green warring for supremacy on his
face. His opponent was completely nude
and undeniably male.
It was also aroused.
“…have so much fun,” the demon babbled on, shortening the
distance between them by first one step, then another, then another…
“…huh?” Hisoka
blinked – he had been so caught up in the demon’s hideous appearance, he had
zoned out everything else.
It smirked, displaying broken, jagged, yellowing
teeth. “I said, pretty boy, that ya’
look almost exactly like that damn bastard who killed me before, Hiketsu.” Its leathery wings, perhaps the only
redeeming feature, twitched in anticipation.
“Perhaps if you’re such an obedient little toy and do what I ask of you,
I’ll keep you for playtime later.”
The Shinigami froze, every muscle tensing and clenching
themselves. Panic shot through his
veins, locking his muscles even as fear rooted himself to the spot. His emerald eyes started to blank out,
caught in the siren’s call of the past.
He could almost see the falling Sakura petals; he could almost taste the
metallic blood from when he had bitten his tongue while Muraki had…
A large clawed hand filled his vision a split second
before his head snapped to the side, the shock pulling him out of his
destructive daydream. “Don’t you dare
ignore me, brat,” the demon hissed, roughly grabbing the empath’s chin. Sharp, black claws penetrated the soft skin
around his jaw, and he could feel blood tracing random patterns down his skin.
“That’s better.”
It leaned forward, and Hisoka’s nose wrinkled at the stench of old blood
and rotten corpses from its breath. “I
hope you’re at least a screamer, I enjoy pained screams the most.” Its tongue flicked out, leaving a moist
trail along his earlobe.
Caught in the horrors of the present, and the memories of
the past, Hisoka screamed.
“Hisoka!!”
The demon was thrown off of the empath, skidding across the pavement of
the rooftop. A white paw placed itself
in his field of vision and he looked up.
Byakko stood over him protectively, teeth bared and ruby eyes sparking
with fury. The shikigami glanced down
at Hisoka once before leaping, roaring as it slammed into its prey.
“Hisoka!” A warm
hand clamped onto his shoulder. He
squeezed his eyes shut, his hand darting out against the intruder of his
personal space. His palm connected, and
he opened his eyes. Wide, hurt violet
eyes stared at him, contrasting with the red handprint decorating one
cheek. “Hisoka…”
Emerald eyes widened as guilt welled up within the
empath. The eyes started to shimmer
with tears, the clear fluid spilling down pale cheeks as he started to babble.
“OhmygodTsuzukiI’msosorryIdidn’tmeanitIjustthoughtyouweresomeoneelseand
– “ A part of his mind cried out in
horror at his hysterical tone, but the rest of his brain promptly told it to
shut up.
Amethyst eyes blinked, surprised. “Hisoka?”
Tsuzuki tilted his head to the side; this wasn’t like his partner at
all.
The teenage lunged forward, pale hands gripping the black
trench coat tightly. But still, he
didn’t sob, keeping hold of enough pride to tone down his voice to mere
whimpers.
“Ummmm…” Tsuzuki
placed first one hesitant hand on a trembling shoulder, and then the
other. He wasn’t quite sure how to deal
with this situation.
In the background the tiger shikigami continued to rip
apart his opponent, his mind occupied with troubled thoughts. Demons – true demons had been
efficiently banished from the mortal realm millennia ago – what could the
reappearance of one such as this possibly mean?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Tatsumi! What
are you doing here? I mean, this is the
library!” The secretary of
JuOhCho raised one slim eyebrow at the scientist’s incredulous tone – was his
dislike of the library that well known?
“I came to give one of the Gushoshin a mission. I decided to do it a favour and deliver the
books that it was supposed to bring,” he replied stiffly.
“Ah,” came the short reply. Was there a note of…disappointment in Watari’s tone? “Well, in that case put them over there with
the other books.” An absent hand was
waved behind them toward a cherry wood table.
The brunette’s other eyebrow rose at the thought of being ordered to do
something, but he complied anyway.
There was no use in arguing, anyway.
He placed the books gently on the table – he may not have
been fond of the place, but the books cost money. He ignored his companion in favour of perusing the book
titles. If he had been any less stoic,
a shocked look would have settled itself across his face.
History, mythology, and…curses? Exactly what was Watari researching?
“Watari, how does this pertain to the current mission
assigned to us?”
“It has very little to do with the mission, actually,”
the blonde answered matter-of-factly.
“It has more to do with Bon and Tsuzuki. I’m worried about them – Bon especially.”
“’Worried’?” The
secretary frowned – there had better be a good reason for this, otherwise the
scientist was wasting company time.
“Yes, worried,” Watari replied, running a hand through
his hand. “Bon was forced on this
mission – by Enma himself – even though he had another fainting
spell. There is definitely something
wrong with this whole situation, and I’m trying to figure out what.”
Tatsumi nodded slightly.
Normally, he would consider this a waste of time. Normally…but even he had been slightly
alarmed by the orders that had come from higher up. “Find anything yet?”
“No!” Watari
exploded uncharacteristically, tugging at his hair. “I’ve tried everything!
Their pasts, how they died, what they did after they died – even their
bloodlines and ancestors! There’s been
absolutely nothing to distinguish either of them high enough for Him to
take notice – especially Bon!”
He was frustrated beyond belief, the combination of worry over his
friends and co-workers, and a long fruitless search.
“Have you tried checking reincarnations?”
“……..”
“I didn’t think so,” Tatsumi commented dryly.
“……I never even thought of that! I should have checked for that sooner!” He dived for the computer, long-boned
fingers flying over the keyboard. Long
minutes of silence followed before Tatsumi finally left.
He hated being ignored almost as much as wasted money.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hisoka grunted as sunlight struck his face, waking him
from a light doze. He yawned,
stretching his tired muscles before finally sitting up. He ran one hand through sleep-tousled hair,
fighting another yawn.
Yesterday had been absolutely awful. For some reason, he had found it impossible
to stop crying, and so Tsuzuki had been forced to carry him all the way back to
the hotel room. A blush of embarrassment
flushed his pale skin – he wasn’t normally that over-emotional. But, for some reason, the actions of the
demon had been even more terrifying than it should have been. What was wrong with him?
A gentle rap on the door brought the empath out of his
musings. He contemplated not opening it
– the person outside was probably hotel staff, and he didn’t relish seeing
anyone that might have witnessed him at his worst last night.
The rapping came again, more forceful this time, and
Hisoka hauled himself to his feet. This
had better be good.
“Tatsumi-san?” He blinked, surprised. What was the secretary doing in the mortal
plane so early in the morning?
“Good. I wasn’t
sure if you would be up yet. If I
may…?” He gestured toward the doorway the empath was blocking. Hisoka could feel himself blush for the
second time that day as he moved aside.
“Hisoka,” came a sleepy voice. “Who is - Tatsumi-san!”
“Hello to you too, Tsuzuki,” the secretary commented
wryly. He cleared his throat. “I cannot stay here long, I still have a lot
of work to complete up in Meifu. To
make this short, we’ve found a pattern of murders occurring in a private high
school only a few hours from here, and as the closest you two have been
assigned to investigate.” He looked down
at the manila folder in his hands, hesitating.
The blonde started to get an uneasy feeling. “Hisoka-kun, you’ve once again been assigned the role of a high
school student. But…”
Two identical female squeals could be heard from outside
the door as Yuma and Saya rushed in, glomping the poor empath.
“It’s a dream come true!” Yuma exclaimed.
“We finally get to play dress up with Hisoka!” Saya
gushed.
Tatsumi glanced at the females in annoyance at the
interruption. “But,” he continued,
“this private high school is, in fact, girls only.”
“…………….”
“Hisoka? Where
are you going?”
“……………”
Tsuzuki blinked.
“Hisoka?”
A cool rush of breeze ruffled the curtains as a window
was opened.
“Ummmmm, Yuma, what is he doing?”
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!
Hisokaaaaaaaa~! Don’t jump!”
Author’s Notes ~ Finally
done. *Glares at offending YnM
characters* This probably would have
been done faster if some people hadn’t decided to do their own thing.
Tatsumi wasn’t supposed to
have that whole inner monologue about Watari, but I gave him just one slim
opening, and he grabbed the bit between his teeth. Even the Gushoshin were conspiring against me!
…………I don’t even want to know where that demon
came from….
Anyway, after much debating
I’ve finally decided to try scheduling my releases again. So, starting in April I will be releasing
one chapter of Ragnarok every 15th of the month. Though, once I graduate, I’ll probably
change this to every 15th and 30th of the month. Or, if I really get bored, every ten
days. This is so people don’t try and
check for this every day. It’s also to
give me a schedule so I don’t slack off. =P
So, you know the drill, Yami
no Matsuei doesn’t belong to me, yadda yadda.
E-mail me at [email protected]
or [email protected]
with praise, criticism, flames, death threats, etc.