Warnings: There is Hisoka. There is Muraki. Do your math.
I don’t think it’s too graphic, but it is happening. (shrugs)
Chapter Five
Tsuzuki couldn’t help sneezing as he entered the restaurant when the soft impact of his footsteps resulted in clouds of dust. The golden flecks that blurred his eyes and the wan sunlight that filtered through the broken shutters were the only sources of light in the dark, overcast room where shadows reigned.
He carefully threaded his way through pieces of broken furniture and cracked floorboards as he surveyed the room with a quick glance. With just a fleeting look, the room revealed nothing out of ordinary.
It certainly didn’t get anymore suspicious after forty-five minutes of thorough inspection.
“That kid must be laughing his head off by now,” Tsuzuki muttered angrily.
And although he knew it was probably totally unnecessary, he was already starting to worry about Hisoka.
If Hisoka knew, he would probably be in for another harsh scolding.
Just as he turned to leave, a faint flash of gold caught the corners of his eyes.
Frowning, Tsuzuki walked towards the direction of the pale gleam. Deftly pushing away pieces of rubble and waste, his fingers uncovered…
Tsuzuki stiffened as he stared at the figure that lay among the debris.
A beautifully made porcelain doll, the masterpiece of a skilled craftsman with every feature carved delicately and painstakingly, looked up at him from the shadows with hooded eyes.
She was beautiful. Golden hair that caught the dim rays of sunlight, clear jade-green eyes that peered through long eyelashes…
Beauty that was marred only be the single crack that ran down her right cheek.
With shaking hands, Tsuzuki picked up the doll. It was impossible, it couldn’t be…
Golden hair with green eyes, the doll reminded him eerily of a certain young boy.
“Hisoka…”
Careful,
Tsuzuki-san. You do not want to lose someone precious to you.
//
Hisoka!!! //
Dropping the doll, Tsuzuki ran out of the restaurant, fear and panic already threatening to overcome his senses.
Horror rose in his chest as he stood alone in the dark deserted alley.
Hisoka was here. He should be here.
Images of the broken doll returned to him. The doll with golden hair that caught the sun and jade-green eyes the colour of the emeralds.
Tsuzuki fell against one of the walls as his legs threatened to give way under him.
Before his very eyes, the alley transformed into a scene of blood and brutality as the memories that lay hidden in his mind replayed themselves in his imagination. His first thought back then was the shocking realization that after years after claiming human lives, the smell of raw human blood could still strike fear in his heart.
Hisoka’s blood.
This time, there was no sign of violence--no blood splattered against the walls, spreading across the ground, no crimson red clouding his vision…
In fact, Hisoka might as well have never stepped foot into this place at all.
He stood there alone. Alone…and lost.
Lost without Hisoka.
Again, he failed to protect, when he had tried so hard…when he had fought to keep the promise that he made.
Tears started to blur his vision when his eyes fell onto a single ofuda on the ground.
He could never fail to recognize the boy’s handwriting--the soft, somewhat inexperienced strokes that climbed across the piece of paper, still lacking that touch of elegance and maturity that came with years of long practice.
He remembered holding Hisoka’s hand as his young partner struggled to master the complicated strokes.
He remembered having Hisoka yell at him for it.
Tsuzuki closed his eyes as the first tear made its way down his cheek.
//
Hisoka…I’m sorry. I’m never there when you need me. //
But Hisoka needed him now.
Tsuzuki would do anything to get Hisoka back.
Anything.
***
Hisoka opened his eyes painfully, trying to push away the dull throbbing in his head.
Emerald green stared blankly at the ceiling before the horror of an hour ago registered.
// A
dream, this isn’t real…it’s only a dream… //
This was only a dream, a bad dream like the many he had. All he had to do was to wake up, and…
It didn’t work.
It didn’t work because it wasn’t a dream and he knew it was really happening even though he refused to admit it.
Hisoka pulled at the straps that bound his arms to the headboard of the bed desperately. His scars were burning the way they did when that man was near.
It was all like a nightmare become real. He wanted to wake up, this was only a bad dream and he would wake up like he always did…
“Ah…you’re finally awake.”
Hisoka stared at the man that had always haunted his dreams, had always been the source of his nightmares.
He mustn’t display any fear, he mustn’t, not in front of Muraki.
He hated Muraki. Muraki was the one who murdered him and almost led Tsuzuki to his destruction. He hated Muraki and he kept reminding himself that because it gave him a reason to go on.
But he was terrified by the man as well.
And now the fear was rapidly overpowering the hatred.
He forced himself to meet Muraki’s gaze evenly, even though he had the sick feeling that his eyes were betraying everything he was feeling right now.
“Why, it’s been a long time since we last met, bouya, I rather missed you,” Muraki said, his hand reaching out to brush back a few strands of blonde hair from Hisoka’s eyes. Hisoka couldn’t help flinching at the contact, resulting at an amused smile from Muraki.
“What…do you want?” Hisoka demanded. He cursed himself for the slight waver in his voice. He was terrified, but letting Muraki know would be disaster.
Except that Muraki knew already.
“You know what I want,” Muraki answered, his hand slowing moving down Hisoka’s cheek in a caress.
Of course he knew what Muraki wanted.
Hisoka recoiled as that hand continued down to his chest, where it began to slowly undo his buttons.
“Don’t touch me,” he hissed. That might just be the stupidest thing he’d ever done. Here he was facing his rapist and murderer, and he still let his tongue get the better of him.
Muraki merely chuckled. “Are you thinking that he’ll come and rescue you?”
Hisoka glared at him as he began trailing a finger down Hisoka’s chest.
“Of course he will, he always does. That’s the main purpose of me capturing you, after all.”
Muraki smiled. “But it’ll take time. He doesn’t know where you are. Last time, he found you by means of a messenger bird.” He shifted his attention back to Hisoka’s face, much to the latter’s relief.
“But we all know that I never make the same mistake.”
The low chuckle transformed into a laugh. “You, however, seem to have a tendency for repeating your errors endlessly.”
“The first time was that unforgettable night under the crimson moon, when the sakura blossoms were tinged red with blood, do you remember, bouya?”
Hisoka’s fists gripped the mattress beneath him tightly as the curse scars on his body flared to life.
“The second was that time in Nagasaki.”
“Actually, there were plenty of other opportunities as well, had I taken it.”
Muraki began tracing the marks on Hisoka’s chest. “But young children these days just don’t learn their lesson. Of course, I doubt you would have any chance at all of running from me.”
Silver eyes bored into Hisoka’s own. “After all, you are my puppet.”
“And a puppet always dances the way its strings are pulled.”
Hisoka choked back his anger at those words.
A puppet. That was what Muraki had always thought of human beings. Everyone else was nothing more than puppets that danced at his whim.
Maria Won, Tsubaki-hime, even Tsuzuki…
//
Tsuzuki… //
That last name sparked a flicker of hope within him. Tsuzuki wouldn’t leave him here, Tsuzuki promised that he would protect him; he said that he wouldn’t let him get hurt anymore…
…Muraki wanted Tsuzuki.
Hisoka didn’t want to think about what Muraki wanted with Tsuzuki. The last time Tsuzuki fell into Muraki’s hands, he was almost driven to suicide.
If it happened again…
But Hisoka wanted Tsuzuki to be here. The child that would forever remain inside him wanted Tsuzuki to be with him.
“Why, bouya, you seem worried.” Muraki pushed back his silver hair to reveal his mechanical eye. Hisoka forced down a shudder at the sight of it.
“So stubborn, little one,” Muraki muttered. “But we can solve that problem.”
Muraki’s lips twitched into a smile which made Hisoka’s blood run cold.
“I’ve done some research on empathic powers, and I think I’ve actually discovered something that you’ll appreciate greatly.”
Hisoka listened with growing dread.
“I’ve invented a potion that will greatly enhance your empathy.” Hisoka’s confusion must have been obvious, because at this Muraki smirked.
“In fact, it’ll increase your power so greatly that you’ll fully absorbed all the emotions of the people around you. There will be no barriers, and I doubt that any shielding you’ve mastered so far would be enough to withhold the effects.”
Hisoka was beginning to panic. He needed to get away, just get away…wake up, why wasn’t he waking up?
“You would even transfer the remaining power of your empathy to people around you, which I suppose, in this case, equals to telepathy. Of course, you most likely have dormant telepathic gifts as well, but to bring them out this way…”
Muraki leaned in, his breath brushing against Hisoka’s cheek. “I wonder, would the magnitude of your newly enhanced gifts kill you, or would you go insane first? Your empathic powers were impressive to begin with, but your control certainly isn’t. ”
Hisoka pulled at his straps desperately. How did Muraki know that he had trouble sometimes with his empathy? Muraki must be lying, he wouldn’t be able to do such a thing…No, Muraki never lied when it came to such things. In fact, Muraki almost never lied at all. Why was he thinking about the man’s integrity, of all things? He must wake up, wake up, oh gods why is he still here?
“I guess I’ll know the answer in a few minutes.”
Hisoka could only stare in horror when Muraki lifted a needle and brought the tip to his arm.
“It’s actually a spell, but you might appreciate the effort I took to liquefy it. This places it in your bloodstream, you see, so that it will be permanent, unlike the original spell.”
Hisoka wanted to scream, but his voice caught in his throat. He felt the slight sting as the needle pricked his skin, the momentary itch after the injection…
…and it hurt. It hurt so much that even the night when Muraki cursed him to his death paled in comparison. All he could feel was that agonizing pain in his mind, it was as if his mind were being compressed from all angles at once, his empathy was screaming from the sudden burden on it, his body was burning, everything was disappearing in a red haze, he knew he was going to faint, he wanted to faint…
But he couldn’t. Through it all, his consciousness remained fully awake. He hurt, he hurt so much he just wanted to die and he couldn’t. Muraki must have done something so that he remained fully aware of what was happening; he wasn’t even allowed the brief respite of unconsciousness. His throat burned; he must have been screaming without even knowing it.
He could see Muraki leaning over him through his pain-filled vision. Muraki was smiling—a satisfied smile over the success of his experiment.
Muraki touched his cheek, and suddenly Hisoka was screaming again, and this time he knew he was, because he was drowning in the darkness of the man’s soul, and he couldn’t escape—all he did was fall deeper and deeper…he knew there was no way out, he was scared, so scared…
Muraki’s mind had always terrified him; he could never understand the evil that formed the man’s twisted thoughts. But before he was only reading them, now he was in them. They weren’t only seeping into him like they had before; they were controlling him.
He was losing himself, losing all sense of self-identity.
Now the fear came as a relief, because without the fear to hang on to, he would be truly lost.
He could feel hands on the clasp of his jeans; they were traveling over bare skin now…the more Muraki touched, the deeper he fell. There was nothing except that endless darkness and the fear that told him he was still himself, he didn’t know that fear was such a welcome emotion.
The weight on his legs shifted. He knew what was going to happen; he didn’t want it to happen, he just wanted to wake up, but he couldn’t…
…most of all he wanted Tsuzuki. Where was Tsuzuki, he needed Tsuzuki, Tsuzuki wouldn’t abandon him to this…
//Tsuzuki,
please! You told me you would stay with me, I told you to exist for me, where
are you please I need you don’t leave me please… //
Nothing changed. There was the burning pain of being penetrated, the disgust and the terror of being touched by this murderer, being taken in this way by a person that he loathed, and the underlying self hatred—because he was helpless against it.
Like last time, no one came. He once thought that Tsuzuki would come, but he didn’t.
No one came.
This time, Hisoka didn’t scream. He couldn’t scream anymore; he didn’t have the strength in him to scream, and there was no reason for him to.
Because he knew that no one would come.
Tsuzuki wouldn’t leave him, he wouldn’t; but he might be out there searching blindly for him, and there was no way for him to know where Hisoka was.
// Tsuzuki…help me, please help me. // Thoughts of his partner were the only thing that slowed his descent into the darkness of Muraki’s mind. Hisoka closed his eyes, refusing to acknowledge what was happening. Think of Tsuzuki, that was the only thing he could do, think of the only person who cared for him, the only person who didn’t hate him.
Muraki slowed his movements and leaned over him.
“Ah…what do you think of my dear Tsuzuki-san?”
Terror gripped Hisoka’s heart when Muraki’s words from before returned.
“You
would even transfer the remaining power of your empathy to people around you,
which I suppose, in this case, equals to telepathy.”
His thoughts…Muraki could read his mind.
Hisoka had always hated his empathic gifts. But this was the first time he had ever experienced mind intrusion.
To think that Muraki could look into his mind…the thought made the bile rise in Hisoka’s throat. To experience both physical and mental intrusion simultaneously was almost than he could bear.
It was more than he could bear.
“What do you feel for him, bouya?” Muraki pushed deeper. The feel of the man in his body and mind made Hisoka want to retch.
What did he feel for Tsuzuki? He cared for Tsuzuki, the way Tsuzuki did for him. He needed Tsuzuki, and he wanted to stay with him.
“Do you love him?” Muraki asked softly above him, the man’s voice dangerously low. “After all, few people can withstand the power of Tsuzuki-san’s beauty. Have you fallen for him?”
Of course he loved Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki was the father he never had, the mother that put him to bed, the elder brother and sister that teased him and supported him. In fact, Tsuzuki represented the family he never had. He loved Tsuzuki as he would have loved his own parents, had they loved him as their son.
“The family you never had, how sickeningly sweet,” Muraki said contemptuously.
“However, that wasn’t my question.” A deeper thrust. “Have you fallen for him?” Hisoka whimpered as pain tore through his body.
“Have you?” This was a question he had to answer; the maniacal gleam in Muraki’s eyes would have showed him that even if the man’s thoughts that now dominated him hadn’t.
Hisoka shook his head weakly, his voice too hoarse to form a verbal answer.
“Really?” Muraki said softly. “Your mind is open to me now, bouya. It would be imprudent to lie.”
He wasn’t lying. He didn’t love Tsuzuki, not that way. Not that way.
// You were ready to give your life to save him, // a small voice in the deepest depths of his mind whispered softly.
Of course he would. Tsuzuki would risk his life to save him, why shouldn’t he do the same?
// You couldn’t
live without him. //
All his life, he had been alone, unloved and despised, even by his own parents. He was used to being alone. Why couldn’t he live without Tsuzuki?
He didn’t know. There didn’t seem to be a reason.
// You
would have died to be with him. //
Because…he had no one else. It didn’t matter before, but after Tsuzuki appeared in his life, he wanted to be with him.
He didn’t know what it felt like to have his life made meaningless by the loss of one person.
He hadn’t needed anybody that desperately before.
He didn’t know why, and suddenly it scared him.
“It is well if you truly don’t feel anything for him, bouya. But somehow your mind tells me differently…” Muraki smirked, “I don’t appreciate having competition, you know that.”
“What do you feel for him?”
Hisoka felt something warm trickle down his cheek. He was crying.
“What do you feel for him?” Muraki pressed.
// I don’t know I don’t know
don’t ask me I’m so scared please don’t ask me that. //
The tears increased when Muraki reached completion within him. He hated Muraki, he hated him but he couldn’t do anything because Muraki’s hold on his mind was too strong. He didn’t have any control over his empathy at all; Muraki’s emotions were taking over and he couldn’t even scream anymore.
Most of all, he hated himself for being so weak.
// What
do you feel for him? //
What did he feel for Tsuzuki?
He didn’t know.
The tears were still falling, he hurt all over and he was frightened.
Not of Muraki, this time, but of himself. Of what he truly felt.
Nobody came.
All he had to do was close his eyes, close his mind--a mind that wasn’t entirely his anymore.
Just close his eyes and think of nothing.
Nothing except Tsuzuki.
***
-- Uh huh. Hisoka torture. I can’t believe I wrote this.
This is what happens when I’m chewing my nails from worry over my exam results.
-- It’s still a PG-13 rating…I think. Yell at me if you
think it isn’t.