by Katsue
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An eerie silence cloaked the headland, the scene mercifully shrouded in a thick early-morning mist. Only the sporadically visible motionless forms strewn across the ground offered any hint of what had taken place. Tatsumi shivered, impervious to the chill, clammy air that threatened to seep through his clothes but frozen inside with dismay, despair and horror, his heart sinking further with every step he took. He cursed himself bitterly for having turned the ringer on his phone off last night, for having been weak enough to give into the demands of a stress-induced migraine. If only he had received Hisoka’s urgent request for help at the time, he wouldn’t now be staring bleakly at lacerated bodies and heads pulped beyond recognition. If only he hadn’t been so selfish, most of these people might still be alive.... He prayed silently that Konoe hadn’t arrived ahead of him and that EnMaDaiOh knew nothing of this as yet. Treading cautiously and sidestepping the lifeless and bloodied shapes, some barely recognisable as human, he scanned around desperately for some sign of Tsuzuki or Hisoka. Each time he picked out dark clothes or denim, his heart would lurch unpleasantly, and he was sickened by his own relief when closer inspection of the body revealed it to be a stranger. The mist shifted a little, and he spotted a more upright shape a little way ahead. Making his way towards it, he saw that the person was kneeling, hunched over, and clad in ripped and bloodied denim, fair hair darkened and matted with blood and dirt. “Hisoka!” he shouted hoarsely, almost stumbling towards the boy. No response. A moment later, and Tatsumi was kneeling beside him, one hand on his shoulder, looking anxiously at him. Hisoka just stared down blankly at the crumpled fuda in his hand, shaking his head slightly. “I couldn’t use the reibaku,” he said numbly, continuing to stare at the strip of paper. He half-heartedly attempted to shrug away Tatsumi’s hand, but gave up, clearly past caring one way or the other. Tatsumi withdrew his hand, dimly aware that the last thing Hisoka needed right now was to share his own feelings of guilt and dread. His misgivings, however, had grown considerably on finding Hisoka in this state. This didn’t bode well at all. Something had gone horribly wrong. Oh damn it all to the deepest levels of hell, where was Tsuzuki? What on earth had happened? “He’s with the girl,” answered Hisoka, picking up on Tatsumi’s thoughts. “Girl?” asked Tatsumi, confused. “He thinks she’s Ruka,” muttered Hisoka, absently smoothing out and then crushing the fuda tightly in his fist. Tatsumi froze. The dread he had felt on finding Hisoka’s answerphone message now solidified itself into something unpleasantly and unpalatably real. And physically real... A familiar figure emerged out of the mist, carrying a limp form in his arms. Tatsumi and Hisoka stared in horrified silence. The man who stood before them was wild-haired and blood-soaked, his face smeared and smoke-blackened and his eyes unnaturally luminescent. He would have looked more hellspawn than human had his expression been fierce – but it wasn’t. It was desperate, anguished. He was crying, his tears leaving pale tracks in the darkness of his blood-mask. “They killed her!” he said, brokenly, his voice deep and hoarse. And then he whined, like an animal in pain. Tatsumi felt a lump forming in his throat and swallowed hard. Right now, he was totally reliant on Hisoka’s empathy to tell if this man really was Tsuzuki or a demon wearing his shape. Hisoka stepped forward, hesitated for a few moments, then threw one arm round Tsuzuki’s neck and cradled the dead girl with the other arm. Taken aback by Hisoka’s behaviour, Tatsumi uncertainly took a step forward and then stopped dead in his tracks. Tsuzuki was licking Hisoka’s ear and the side of his face. He then proceeded to nudge Hisoka’s head with his chin until Hisoka was facing him and lapped at his young partner’s nose and mouth in the same dog-like manner. Tatsumi shivered, but noted that Hisoka barely flinched, despite Tsuzuki’s attempts to push his tongue into his mouth. With just the slightest moan of protest, Hisoka gave in, and although he shuddered a little at first, he made no attempt to stop Tsuzuki or to pull away. Tatsumi shifted uncomfortably, trying to force his brain to function on other than instinctive levels of shock, bewilderment and dismay. He couldn’t quite get his mind to accept the evidence before him. Tsuzuki’s behaviour was barely human. Hisoka was submitting to a demon. And suspended in their arms was the body of a girl who, despite her death-pallor and extensive bruising, looked unnervingly like a female Tsuzuki. What shook Tatsumi even more was the glazed, staring eyes – they were purple, and the exact same shade as Tsuzuki’s. What the hell....? Tsuzuki slowly knelt down, taking Hisoka with him, and gently laid the dead girl on the ground. Resting his head on her chest, he reached out one arm and pulled Hisoka closer, moving to lie almost on top of him until the boy lay sandwiched between himself and the girl and their noses were almost touching. He gave Hisoka another lick, and whined softly. Feeling that he perhaps ought to intervene for Hisoka’s sake, if nothing else, Tatsumi took a step forward, and was greeted with a snarl and a hostile glare from Tsuzuki. He rapidly backed off, startled, trying to rationalize the hurt he felt at the rejection. This wasn’t the Tsuzuki he knew, this was a demon inhabiting his body. Tsuzuki didn’t really feel animosity towards him, feel threatened by him... did he? Could this demon see through him to the hateful monster he really was? Was this part of Tsuzuki’s subconscious? If this behaviour meant nothing, why was demon-Tsuzuki so utterly devoted to Hisoka? A sudden rush of air distracted his attention, and he looked round to see Konoe and Watari touching down beside him. “Holy fuck!” remarked Watari, his eyes wide and horrified as he took in the scene. “What the hell happened?” Konoe’s face was grim and he said nothing. Tsuzuki raised his head and stared at Konoe, completely ignoring Watari. “You’ve come for me, haven’t you?” he asked, his tone flat and hollow. “Tsuzuki-san, what happened here?” Konoe looked from Tsuzuki to the dead girl and back again. “They killed her. They killed Ruka. They called her evil, a demon, a murderess,” snarled Tsuzuki, his face contorted with anguish. “These people – did she kill them all?” Tsuzuki shook his head, a mixture of sorrow and anger shining in his eyes. “No, I did. They killed my Ruka. I can’t forgive them.” Tatsumi brought his hand up in front of his face to cover his despair. His mind felt like it was imploding. Please God let this be a nightmare brought on by his migraine. Konoe moved to look at the girl. Tsuzuki glared at him and made a deep, growling noise, but Konoe stayed just out of easy striking range, studying the dead girl’s features, his own brow furrowing as he did so. “So this is Kotani Haruka,” he commented. “EnMaDaiOh is insistent that we bring her soul in immediately.” “EnMa’s up to something, and I’m going to find out precisely what,” muttered Watari, in Tatsumi’s ear. “More urgently, we need to bring Tsuzuki-san back,” stated Tatsumi miserably, from behind his hand. Watari grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him out of earshot of Konoe. “Listen to me. What EnMa’s up to is most likely going to involve Tsuzuki,” he hissed. “Do you really think that he’s going to allow Tsuzuki to continue as a shinigami in *this* state and after what he’s done?” Tatsumi’s hand fell from his face in shock. Watari was right, of course, but Tatsumi hadn’t quite expected the misgivings gnawing at his sanity to be thrust in his face as bluntly and harshly as this. No, this wasn’t the time for worry and self-pity. If they wasted time, they could lose Tsuzuki for good. But right now.... “We need to separate him from the demon,” he insisted, pushing his spectacles back up his nose in a determined manner. “No!” All eyes were suddenly on Hisoka, who had hurriedly extricated himself from between Tsuzuki and Haruka. “He hasn’t been possessed,” explained Hisoka, despair shadowing his words, “That’s why I couldn’t use the reibaku – it would destroy him.” “If not possessed, then what?” asked Watari, noticing the way Konoe hung his head, avoiding everyone’s eyes. Finally, Konoe looked up and spoke: “Kurosaki-san’s right. Tsuzuki-san isn’t possessed.” He paused for a few moments, then continued: “You’ve known for a long time that Tsuzuki never was fully human, but you’ve never seen the other side of him before. I have, eighty-five years ago. This is Tsuzuki’s Other self.” |
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