by Katsue






2.  WATARI'S LAB
Watari turned to stare at 003, bewildered, and seeking some kind of enlightenment. 003 looked back at him, blinked and hooted. “Dead?” she asked, pointing one wing towards Hisoka, who lay on his side in a relatively uncluttered corner of the lab, safe from being tripped over or having experiments spilled on him.

“No, no more dead than usual, just fainted!” Watari smiled wryly at the little bird and ruffled her feathers. Picking her up and placing her atop of his head, he removed his lab coat and draped it over Hisoka, like a blanket. “He’s probably in shock, best to keep him warm,” he explained to the confused owl. 003 hooted her approval.

Watari reached for his coffee, wondering what on earth had happened to make Hisoka rush into his lab in a state of distress and collapse on him. He didn’t have long to ponder this before he heard footsteps approaching the lab, and in stumbled Tsuzuki, looking like he’d just been kicked out of bed and told he had 30 seconds to get dressed and on the job, *or else*. His shirt was buttoned all wrong, his hair dishevelled and sticking to his face in damp clumps, and his pants... erm.....

Looking questioningly at Tsuzuki, Watari wondered whether or not to inform him that he was flying at half-mast, but on registering the violet-eyed shinigami’s distraught expression, he thought better of it. Half-open zipper could wait, there were clearly more pressing issues at hand.

“Watari, please tell me that it was you outside in the corridor just now!” pleaded Tsuzuki, grasping the scientist’s shoulders.

“Nope. It must’ve been the boy – he rushed in here and fainted on me.” Watari indicated Hisoka’s prone form, or rather tufts of blond hair and a pair of sneakers sticking out from beneath the lab coat. Tsuzuki looked disconcertingly like he was about to burst into tears. “Why?” he demanded, pathetically, “Why did it have to be him? Why???”

“Why what??” Watari was completely confused now. Tsuzuki didn’t answer, and his violet eyes shone and shimmered with anguish. Within a moment, he was at the other side of the lab, kneeling down beside Hisoka, stroking his hair, murmuring soft, indistinct, but obviously concerned and affectionate words and sniffling disconsolately.

“Okaaaay...” Watari addressed 003, raising an eyebrow and looking baffled. More footsteps sounded in the corridor, approaching the lab, slower and heavier this time. Tatsumi entered, looking a little sweaty and less than pleased, but relatively *normal*.

“Tatsumi!!” Watari heaved a sigh of relief, and was about to pounce on the secretary when Tatsumi froze in his tracks. A flicker of anger crossed his face and was gone again almost instantly, replaced by a look of dejection and defeat. He stared at Tsuzuki and Hisoka for a moment, then back at Watari. “Have you ever felt superfluous to requirements?” he enquired in a flat tone of voice, his expressionless eyes directed at the scientist, but making no real contact.

“Oh, all the time!” answered Watari, way too cheerfully. He was used to it by now. If working as a shinigami for nearly 25 years had taught him one thing, it was how to shove his own emotions and needs down the back of the wardrobe. Giving up on thoughts of being anything but a random, clueless spectator in the current scenario, he hoisted himself onto the work surface and sat there, cross-legged, waiting to see if the weirdness would unfold into some more coherent kind of drama before his eyes. The toucan, who had been observing from his perch atop the cupboard until now hopped down to join his master with a loud “grroommkk!” and proceeded to tug at his hair ribbon until Watari finally got the hint and delved into a cupboard in search of something edible.

Tsuzuki looked up, registering Tatsumi’s presence, and walked unsteadily back across the room, head down. “I’m so sorry!” he whispered, pressing his face into Tatsumi’s jacket. Tatsumi swallowed, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, seemingly attempting to regain some kind of composure.

“What happened to Kurosaki-kun?” he asked, as evenly as he could, his voice tight and strained.

“Fainted. I was hoping you could tell me why,” replied Watari, eyeing his co-workers with a mixture of consternation and curiosity.

Tatsumi didn’t answer, and pushed his spectacles back up his face, clearly trying to hide his discomfort. “So, that’s who our mystery guest was... it seems you were right,” he commented, eventually, looking hard at Tsuzuki.
Tsuzuki nodded, meeting Tatsumi’s hard stare with a look of sorrow and shame. “But I shouldn’t have said what I did... not then... I...”

“I asked you. I wanted you to tell me the truth. I needed to know for certain.”

“But... I hurt you!”

“And you think lying wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t want it to come to this!!” Tsuzuki threw his arms round his ex-partner, sobbing into his neck.

“We both knew it would.”

“I... I... I’m sorry, I’m so sorry..” Tsuzuki raised one hand to Tatsumi’s face: “I *do* care about you – even if you can never forgive me, that won’t change!”

Tatsumi breathed hard. “It’s not a matter of forgiveness. And you know you have my friendship.”

Watari, toucan and 003 blinked at each other in bewilderment. Maybe if all this was played backwards at high speed in an automatic toaster, it would make sense. Right now, it didn’t.

Toucan tugged grumpily at Watari’s long blond hair, not remotely interested in what might or might not have happened. “Sorry, nothing here!” Watari pulled out his trouser pockets to demonstrate a lack of food therein. Unimpressed, the bird flew over to where Hisoka lay, still unconscious, and began to rummage in the pockets of the lab coat, retrieving something and claiming it with a loud clack of his beak. Hisoka stirred and mumbled, then looked up to find himself face to face with a pair of piercing eyes and a singularly large yellow and red beak. “Gaaaaaaahhhhh!!!!” he yelled, lurching clumsily to his feet in a state of shock.

Tsuzuki promptly ran over to him: “Hisoka! Are you alright?” The young blond steadied himself, not even looking at his partner, walked past him as though he didn’t exist and carried on until he reached Watari and Tatsumi. He handed Watari his lab coat, thanking him, acknowledged Tatsumi, and then walked out, completely ignoring Tsuzuki who was repeatedly calling out to him and looked about to follow.

Tatsumi grabbed Tsuzuki’s wrist and held him back. “Give him space,” he said, trying not to show any other reaction to the younger man’s pathetic cries for his little partner. Watari, however, could see beyond the mask, and realised that not only was the ice-cool demeanour in danger of slipping but that the secretary was pretty near breaking point.

The way Watari felt right now, his own senses were going to go “ping!” like an elastic band stretched too far, the broken length whiplashing back. Hisoka being distant and unreachable, he was used to, Tsuzuki drowning in guilt, pain and self-pity, he could just about handle, having had previous experience, but Tatsumi going into emotional meltdown, bypassing the reassuring safety valves of tears or temper on the way, he definitely *couldn’t* cope with. Watari was very attached to what remained of his own sanity, thank you. Right now, it didn’t *matter* what was actually the problem, nor that his own hyperactive imagination had filled in the gaps in his knowledge with some interesting improbabilities. What mattered was dispelling the tension before it drove him nuts. It wasn’t like he *knew* what was wrong or was able to do anything about it, so, what the hell, time for action...

Inching un-noticed across the smooth work-surface until he was right behind the secretary’s broad shoulders, Watari uncrossed his legs and slithered forwards, grinning impishly at the wide-eyed look of total amazement on Tsuzuki’s face. There was a startled and indignant shout as Tatsumi suddenly found his vision obscured by long blond curls, arms and legs snaking their way round his torso, and Watari’s breath hot and tickly on his ear.

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to seduce you!” Watari reassured as Tatsumi hastily disentangled himself and retreated to the safety of the bench opposite.

“I should hope not!”

“Aw, sheesh, I’m not *that* unattractive, am I?” Watari pouted playfully and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re... you’re a MAN!” Tatsumi spluttered, saying the first words that came into his head.

“But so am I...” mumbled Tsuzuki, hanging his head.

Tatsumi looked utterly mortified. Tsuzuki opened his mouth and began to apologize for his indiscretion but was silenced with a frostbitten blue glare before he could commit any further blunders. Sensibly, he slunk door-wards and took his leave.

Watari half-expected Tatsumi to follow and when the man remained leaning against the workbench as though he was glued to it, he didn’t know what to do. Should he say something? What on earth could he say? “Hey, I take it you guys have just had the f**k from hell, care to talk about it?”???? Hmmmm, maybe not.

“Coffee?”

Mmmm, that was seriously lame as an opening conversational gambit, but at least it was something that wouldn’t get any of his experiments tipped over his head. Tatsumi looked up and eyed him warily: “I’ll make it,” he said, flatly.

“Waahhhh! Don’t you trust me??”

“Watari-san, the last time I drank anything you made, I spent the next two days as an alligator. So if you’ll allow me to make the coffee... Oh, and while I’m here, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about...”

Watari’s ears pricked up hopefully.

“...We’ve had a couple of very strange emails, and I’d like to know if you could trace the sender.”

Watari’s interest waned a little, but he signalled his assent and followed Tatsumi into the main office next door.

Tatsumi sighed heavily and pushed his spectacles back up his nose, as the two shinigami waited for the computer to go through the rigmarole of its opening sequences: “Heaven help me, I am doing this to put *that person’s* mind at rest....”

“Tsuzuki?”

“Yes, the second email was sent to him.”

Watari leant against the desk, idly watching the blue of the computer screen reflect on Tatsumi’s glasses in the semi-darkness of the room, the only other light being that from the lab. It felt pleasantly detached, almost restful in here, with the play of light and dark and no voices to offset the hum of the computer.

“If this turns out to be anything more than a malicious prank, I’ll help you investigate, Watari-san.” Tatsumi didn’t even turn to look at the scientist, but concentrated on finding the folder where he had filed the emails.

“You mean it’s in my area?”

“Yes, Kyoto. Tsuzuki-san wanted to investigate, as it relates to a case back when we were partners, but I can’t let him. I don’t want to see him ....that upset again. He doesn’t need to be still shouldering that guilt.... Ah, here’s the first email!”

Watari read his way through it, then the second email, and frowned, puzzled. “No guarantees I can trace the sender or senders, as it’s been done via anonymous remailer, but I can give it my best shot. But what is it that’s so strange about these emails?”

Tatsumi turned to look at him, and took a deep breath: “Notice this person’s account of her meeting with myself and Tsuzuki-san? However, she committed suicide less than six months later.” He paused, while Watari took in the information, then finished: “These emails appear to be from someone who has been dead for over 50 years.”



[Notes]  [1]  [2]  [3]  [4]  [5]



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