Anniversary

from the Fire and Shadows series
scribblemoose

Dew spread,
the seeds of hell
are sown.

Issa

Hisoka woke a little before dawn, to find himself alone. Tsuzuki's futon was neatly rolled, and his coat was gone, a sure sign that he'd gone further than just the bathroom.

Hisoka reached for a t-shirt, trying with little success to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. Tsuzuki hadn't been himself for several days now. At first Hisoka thought it might have been something to do with their assignment. The soul they had come to collect was only fifteen years old, and the young ones always troubled Tsuzuki. But as the days went by, and they grew no closer to finding the girl, Tsuzuki seemed almost to lose interest, becoming steadily quieter and more withdrawn. Last night, when Hisoka had returned from his bath, he'd found Tsuzuki sitting by the window watching the stars, and his anguish was so strong that Hisoka could almost see it, a shroud blacker than Tatsumi's shadows clinging to Tsuzuki's hunched form.

He'd avoided Hisoka's questions, and in the end they'd sat in silence until it was time for bed.

And now he was gone.

Hisoka got out of bed and finished dressing. They were staying in a tourist hostel near the station; not one of their usual haunts, but Hisoka supposed that Tatsumi had only recently discovered it in his eternal quest for cheap accommodation. It was clean, though, and the people were friendly and helpful.

Hisoka padded to the bathroom, wracking his brains as to where he should start to look for Tsuzuki. He couldn't think of anywhere he might have gone for their assignment; all the signs suggested that the girl had died - or should have died - from a drug overdose, and any clues from that particularly seedy underworld were best investigated at night.

He composed a mental list of Tsuzuki's favourite brooding places as he crept to the hostel's entrance lobby, silently cursing his partner for sneaking off like this; for not sharing his feelings; for trying to hide them. As if he could, considering Hisoka's powers. Although it didn't take an empath to work out what Tsuzuki was feeling, most of the time. His face usually said it all. Even the coldest person in the world could surely tell.

Hisoka had one hand on the door handle when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Kurosaki-kun."

"Tatsumi-San." He turned to see Tatsumi leaning against the wall, pushing his glasses up his nose, vivid blue eyes smiling gently at him.

"Good morning, Kurosaki-kun."

"Is something wrong?" A number of alarming possibilities ran through Hisoka's mind to explain Tatsumi's presence. "Is there new information?"

Tatsumi shook his head. "Everything's fine," he said. "It's not about the assignment."

They looked at each other for a moment.

"You'll find him at the Hypocentre," said Tatsumi, quietly. "Please take care of him, Kurosaki-kun. It's a difficult day for him."

Before Hisoka could open his mouth to ask him why, Tatsumi was gone.

* * * * * * *

Tsuzuki looked up at the black stone monolith, and let the memories come.

He wasn't alone. As first light filtered through the clouds people were already starting to gather, drawn by the call of memory, or grief, or protest. Tsuzuki knew that soon the park would be full.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes, and for an instant felt the wind and heat and fire, the incredible and unbelievable loss, as if it were happening all over again. Suzaku thrilled defensively in the back of his mind, as if the threat were now.

"Tsuzuki."

His eyes fluttered open at the deep rumble of Hisoka's voice. He looked at him over his shoulder, and tried to smile, but it wouldn't come.

He hadn't wanted this. He hadn't wanted Hisoka to know this about him. He'd wanted to spare him. But then, he should know by now that keeping things from his partner just never worked out.

"It's early," said Hisoka.

"Go home, Hisoka," said Tsuzuki, gently.

"No," said Hisoka, firmly. "You shouldn't be alone."

Tsuzuki forced himself to focus on the pitch black rock in front of him, refusing to let the tears come. Not yet. Not for Hisoka to deal with. Not now.

Hisoka reached out to touch his arm, and Tsuzuki moved away just a fraction too slowly. Tsuzuki watched the shock rush through Hisoka as he caught a wave of his feelings, watched the pain and grief wash over him.

"You were here," Hisoka whispered, eyes wide with shock. "You were here, when..."

"Actually, I was over there." Tsuzuki nodded towards a clump of trees a hundred yards or so away. "At first."

Hisoka stood beside him, gazing up at the monolith. It drew the eye irresistibly up and up towards the sky, clouds parting to let through trickles of weak morning light.

"It must have been..."

Tsuzuki waited, while Hisoka struggled to find the words. Of course, there weren't any words. People had tried for decades to express the horror in poetry and art and music, in theatre and action, in obscene, impossible acts of hope and courage. None of it came close.

"You remember the earthquake, late last year?" Tsuzuki said quietly.

"Yes," said Hisoka sadly. Fifteen people trapped in rubble: fourteen died all at once, just as Hisoka, Watari and Tsuzuki flew past. They were sent back two days later for the one who refused to die, who hoped against all reason and destiny to be rescued.

"Fourteen souls, gone, like that, all at once."

"I remember." Hisoka's voice was steady, but Tsuzuki noticed the slight stiffening of his shoulders, a clench of his fists.

"It was seventy thousand, Hisoka. Seventy thousand."

Hisoka reached out again, hesitated. "Tell me, Tsuzuki," he said. "Please, tell me."

Tsuzuki turned to Hisoka, ready to decline, to pack him off on some errand, so he could be left in peace to mourn. But something in Hisoka's intent expression stopped him. This wasn't just a private grief. Of all the memories that Tsuzuki kept locked inside, perhaps this one should be shared.

The day was already burning hot, and Tsuzuki's coat weighed heavy on his shoulders. He met Hisoka's penetrating emerald gaze, and gave him a little smile. "Over there." He nodded towards the trees again, shrugging his coat down his arms. "Where it's quiet."

Hisoka followed him across the park, and they sat on Tsuzuki's coat under the trees.

"It's funny," Tsuzuki said, gazing up at the canopy of green above them. "They said nothing would grow for a hundred years. Here we are, not much over half of that, and-"

"-you'd never know," Hisoka finished for him. "That's what I thought, the first time I came here. It's so ordinary, so green and full of life."

"But you can feel it, if you close your eyes." Tsuzuki plucked a stem of grass and rolled it between his fingers. "It feels wrong, even now. Too still, too quiet. Like time's not flowing right."

Hisoka closed his eyes for a moment, and shuddered. Tsuzuki was right. There was something wrong about the place. "Why were you here?" he asked.

"An assignment. We were so busy, during the war. It was confusion everywhere, the wrong souls were turning up; people who should have died didn't, people who shouldn't did... so many of them... we were overwhelmed. It was a mess. The division between life and death was a blur, human existence so fragile that people stopped expecting a future. They lived each day as if it were their last, some of them wishing it were their last, some hoping beyond hope... I came back here from Tokyo, I think they sent me because Tokyo was... because I didn't cope well, with the air raids." Tsuzuki shifted uncomfortably, and loosened his already-loose tie. "I knew what had happened in Hiroshima, you could feel it, even here. But we didn't expect... I mean, we all knew it could happen, anywhere, but Nagasaki... They say it was just a break in the clouds, that is should have been Kokura... the pilot was up there, and waiting, and dropped the bomb as soon as he could see the ground... I was standing here, and a woman and her little girl walked past. The daughter dropped her book, and I went to pick it up."

His voice was softer than ever, barely audible.

"There was a flash, and this incredible heat, and then..."

He looked down at the grass, perfectly still.

"There were so many, Hisoka. So, so many, snuffed out in one instant, gone. I blacked out, for a minute, and when I opened my eyes again there was nothing. No trees, no buildings, no people, nothing but rubble."

Tears ran down his face; he didn't brush them away.

"There were no bodies, even," he said. "The strangest thing. Nothing. Just fire, and death, and shadows, as if Touda himself had been here."

Hisoka watched him silently through slow-blinking eyes, his throat choked with emotion that was only partly his.

"It sank in slowly, what had happened, and I knew that somewhere there would be survivors. I started to search, and eventually began to find bodies, or something like, and then the dying... They weren't ready, Hisoka, it was wrong, they shouldn't have... I couldn't bring myself to... I shouldn't have, but they begged and begged. They could see me when they shouldn't, they knew me. They wanted to die so much, yet they shouldn't have died at all. Even Konoe said, later, and... they weren't proper deaths."

Hisoka frowned, not really understanding, but not wanting to interrupt.

"Finally I started to find the living. I lost track of time then, I think there were other shinigami here, I remember Gushoshin arriving, and- no, that was later... I worked as hard as I could, saving lives as much as taking them, even though the most we could give was months or maybe a handful of years... and all around there was dying, so many souls, and it was so fucking wrong. Children, Hisoka, tiny children, and women with babies still in their bellies... in the end I was weak. He... they took me back to Meifu." Tsuzuki hugged his knees up tight to his chest. "They wouldn't let me come back." His voice was soft, but heavy with regret.

Hisoka said nothing. What could he say? What could he possibly do to ease a grief and pain so deep, entrenched by more than half a century of remembrance? Besides, Tsuzuki didn't look as if he wanted comfort. He wanted to keep the hurt alive, as if to forget would be to accept the evil, to give into it.

Hisoka ran his fingers over the goosefleshed skin of his bare arm, unconsciously tracing a pattern. He knew what it felt like, to want to keep the pain bright and alive.

"I've never told anyone before," murmured Tsuzuki, mostly to himself. "Isn't that strange? I don't think anyone wanted me to... they were worried in case I..."

"Are you alright?" asked Hisoka.

"Yes." Tsuzuki wiped his damp face with the back of his hand, sniffed loudly. "I'm sorry, I... you..."

"It's alright," said Hisoka. "I'm your partner. You should tell me. I need to understand you." And then, quietly. "I want to understand."

Tsuzuki flashed him a fleeting smile, and fell silent, chin resting on his knees, watching the people near the monolith as they mourned and protested and remembered.

"Tsuzuki," said Hisoka, eventually. "Who was your partner, back then?"

There was a pause, and Tsuzuki looked down at the grass he still held in his fingers. "Tatsumi," he whispered.

"Then was he... here?"

Tsuzuki slowly shook his head.

"Not at first. We'd... it was just after he..."

"Dumped you."

"Well, yes." Tsuzuki plucked another blade of grass, and started to twine it around the first.

"So you were on your own?" Hisoka clearly disapproved.

"Gushoshin had just popped off somewhere, as I remember. Like I said, we were very busy and we weren't expecting... and anyway, he must have been close, because when the blast hit, he saved me. His shadows were there, to protect me.

"Tsuzuki, why did he leave you?"

Tsuzuki either didn't hear him, or didn't want to answer. He was looked out at the Hypocentre, at all the lush green and the people, sadness flowing from him in waves. Hisoka crept a little closer, cursing himself for asking foolish questions when Tsuzuki was hurting so badly. He braced himself, and reached out his hand...

He gasped at the sudden rush of Tsuzuki's thoughts and memories that flooded his mind.

/I thought it meant something. That night. I thought...

Tatsumi.../

Tatsumi had held Tsuzuki, comforted him, slept with him.

Hisoka's eyes widened with shock, and he tried not to look, not to listen, not to think, but he couldn't control it.

/It felt so good. You felt so good. I thought at last you understood, how I felt, what I wanted... you held me in your arms and it felt so right, you made love to me and I felt whole, complete, loved, and then... gone./

They had been lovers, for that one night, and then Tatsumi had abandoned him.

/Heat and flame and death. So many deaths.../

It came then, the grief and pain that Hisoka had expected, and Tsuzuki pulled his hand away. Hisoka was grateful; not so much for the relief from the memory of death as for the release of his consciousness from those other thoughts, confusing, hurtful thoughts.

"It's okay," Tsuzuki was saying. "You don't have to... it's good to talk. Sometimes the talking's as important as the listening, you know?"

He didn't seem to realise that Hisoka had picked up more memories than he'd bargained for. Hisoka felt oddly relieved at that, knowing he'd touched on something private, a secret Tsuzuki wanted to keep tucked away, like a treasure. However painful.

"You don't have to stay," said Tsuzuki. "I'll be okay."

"Baka," said Hisoka. "We're partners. This is hard for you. I'm staying."

Tsuzuki flashed him a grateful little smile.

He should have stayed. Hisoka fought down a surge of anger that was purely his own; he couldn't imagine how anyone could just abandon Tsuzuki when he was hurting, least of all if...

"Why did he leave you?"

Tsuzuki looked confused, one eyebrow arched in question. "What?"

"Tatsumi," said Hisoka. "Sorry, it's just... you said he was your partner, but he wasn't here."

Tsuzuki's eyes went wide for a moment, and a trace of a blush stained his cheeks. "Oh. Ah, that was... it wasn't..."

"Sorry," Hisoka repeated. "You don't have to-"

"He'd just ended our partnership. There was no reason for him to be here."

"Yes, you said, I just wondered... why."

Tsuzuki looked down and started to fiddle with his shoelaces. "I've no idea why he left, really," he said.

That was a lie, Hisoka knew. But he let it go. It wasn't really any of his business, after all.

"But he let you face all ... this." Hisoka gestured towards the pleasant landscape around them. "Alone."

"Not entirely," said Tsuzuki. "Like I said, Tatsumi saved me from the blast, or I wouldn't have... something that does that much damage, even a shinigami wouldn't just walk away like I did." Hisoka didn't miss the guilt that twisted in Tsuzuki at that thought. As if he didn't think he deserved to walk away when so many died. "He must have been watching me, because the shadows were here, just in time. He never said anything, but... he was here."

"Then why did he... why?"

Tsuzuki sighed, deeply. "Sometimes feelings get in the way of a partnership, Hisoka."

Hisoka looked steadily into Tsuzuki's eyes.

"Especially if they're not reciprocated," Tsuzuki added.

Hisoka swallowed hard. "But..."

"It was a long time ago," said Tsuzuki, as if that excused everything.

"They don't have to," said Hisoka. "Get in the way. They can be... they're just feelings. It can work out." You're still here, after all. We're still here.

"Not always," said Tsuzuki, sadly. "It hurt at the time but... Tatsumi's been very good to me. And if our partnership had lasted... well, I might not be with you now." He flashed Hisoka a weak grin. "Then where would you be?"

Hisoka gave him a hard stare. "I'd be doing just fine," he said.

Tsuzuki chuckled. "Whatever you say, kid."

Hisoka ripped up a handful of grass and threw it at him, covering his hair in flecks of bright green that flew like confetti when he shook his head.

He wondered if Tatsumi had ever made Tsuzuki laugh. It wasn't easy to imagine, somehow. But then neither were... other things. Fortunately.

"It's getting busy," Tsuzuki said. "Maybe it's time to go."

"Whenever you're ready," said Hisoka. "We can go to that place you like for breakfast."

"We've nearly used up our expense account for this visit already," Tsuzuki noted wistfully. "It's all those night-clubs."

The corner of Hisoka's mouth twitched into a grin. "I'll explain to Tatsumi," he said. "But just this once, mind."

"Thanks," said Tsuzuki, his eyes lighting up, as much from habit as anything, as the light quickly faded. "Maybe later. Noon. After the time."

The clouds were thick, now, trapping the heat around them and dulling the light. The leaves above them seemed darker, almost claustrophobic. They sat in silence for a while before Hisoka spoke again.

"In what way was it... wrong?"

Tsuzuki considered for a moment. "I don't know. It was just... well, evil. But not evil like devils or demons. It was different. More like a force, a presence... It took a long time to get the records straight. They still find discrepancies in the register from time to time. Gushoshin said it still surges, sometimes, they have a graph for it and everything. You know how they are with graphs. It's like earthquakes, apparently. They can almost predict when the next wave's coming, only not how big it's going to be. There hasn't been one as big as that, though. Not even close. Just little ripples."

"That's just people, though, isn't it? Just war. Human evil. There's always been wars."

"Yes, but... it was so much bigger. And usually wars are just people dying when they're supposed to die, it just happens to be horribly, like murders. But it was the fact that so many of the wrong people were dying, and so many, so, so many all at once..."

Hisoka cursed himself for his questions; Tsuzuki was sinking back into his misery, and just when he'd been starting to look happier.

"It's not your fault," he said. "You did all you could."

"Not enough," said Tsuzuki. "Never enough. I killed people, Hisoka, without even having to, I..."

"Stop it. Come here."

He reached out an arm, and Tsuzuki crept gratefully into his embrace, his tears soaking through Hisoka's shirt to dry against his skin.

Eventually Tsuzuki curled up quietly with his head in Hisoka's lap, and they watched the mourners come and go.

Hisoka stroked Tsuzuki's soft hair back from his face, and shared his pain.

* * * * * * *

Watari spotted movement in the reflection on his computer monitor.

He really ought to move it away from the window.

"Good afternoon, Tatsumi-San."

"Good afternoon, Watari."

003 shuffled up and down the top of Watari's monitor a few times. She blinked at Tatsumi with something that looked oddly like disapproval, then set about going back to sleep. Watari gave her chest feathers a swift ruffle, and turned to greet Tatsumi with his usual warm smile.

Which faded the instant he saw Tatsumi's face.

"What's the matter?

"Nagasaki," said Tatsumi. "The anniversary."

"You've been there?"

"This morning. I always pay my respects." Tatsumi pushed his glasses up his nose, straightened his jacket. Smart and correct as ever.

"How is he?" asked Watari.

For a moment he thought Tatsumi was going to feign innocence, but of course he knew better than to try and fool Watari. Not that Watari doubted for a moment that Tatsumi genuinely mourned the disaster and respected those who were suffering. But there was a particular look in his eyes, a kind of sad affection, that was associated with just one person.

"Better than other years. Kurosaki is good for him."

Watari regarded him carefully for a few moments. He liked that about Tatsumi, that he was comfortable with gaps in conversations, silences.

"You would understand better," he suggested, gently. "You were there. Hisoka wasn't even born."

Tatsumi folded his arms across his chest, and crossed to the window, looked out over the soft sakura landscape of Meifu. "I'm not his partner."

"No, but you're his friend."

"Kurosaki knows how he feels. He can help him much better than I ever could."

Watari sighed. They'd had this conversation many, many times since Tsuzuki and Hisoka became partners, and it always ended the same. As far as Tatsumi was concerned, it was up to Hisoka to take care of Tsuzuki, because only Hisoka could truly understand him.

As if a half-century of devotion, albeit silent, detached devotion, meant nothing.

003 flew to Watari's shoulder with a little squawk, hiding her face in his hair, distressed over something. Watari soothed her with one gentle hand, cooing softly at her.

"She's unsettled today," he murmured, thinking that Tatsumi probably wasn't listening. "Something's got under her feathers."

"Hot," grumbled 003, from beneath the luxuriant mass of Watari's hair.

"Everyone's unsettled today," said Tatsumi. "It's the nature of things."

Watari rose and joined Tatsumi at the window. It was quiet, even for Meifu, nobody bustling about from department to department, no gossip from the corridor. Just the distant hum of Watari's computer, and a bubbling noise from one of his experiments. There was definitely something odd about the place.

He moved closer to Tatsumi, a little behind and to the left of him, and snaked his arm around his waist, under the expertly-tailored jacket; rested his chin on his shoulder.

"Why don't we get out of here for the afternoon?" he said, quietly. "There's that place in the Alps, where you sent us on that case last month. The cabin, with the sauna and the log fire. It would be good for 003, a bit of fresh mountain air. Schnapps." He let his lips brush softly against Tatsumi's ear. "Good company."

Watari felt Tatsumi tense a little, but even so he inclined his head into the touch, leaned back a little into Watari's embrace.

"It won't cost anything," said Watari. "I happen to know it's paid for until the end of next week."

"You completed the mission earlier than expected," said Tatsumi. "If I'd known..."

Watari chuckled, and pulled Tatsumi a bit closer.

"I shouldn't keep doing this," said Tatsumi. "It's not as if..."

"I understand." Watari dropped a kiss to his shoulder. "We agreed, remember? I know how you feel about... things. I'm not looking for anything more than friendship..." He kissed Tatsumi's neck, just above the starched collar. "Fun..." Nuzzled just behind his ear. "Pleasure."

A little croak of acceptance escaped from Tatsumi's throat, and he wrapped his arms around Watari's, turned his head to press his lips to golden hair.

"It's okay," Watari reassured.

They were in the cabin in moments. It very early morning there, the sun not yet risen above the mountains, the air fresh. Watari shivered as he set flame to the ready-laid fire in the living room, while Tatsumi fetched a blanket to keep them warm while they waited for the logs to catch.

He sat on the floor with his back against the sofa, Tatsumi next to him, pulling the blanket over them both. 003 settled herself on the mantelpiece with a satisfied little grunt, knowing that in a short while her wooden perch would be warm and cosy from the heat of the fire.

Watari watched the growing flames, and smiled when Tatsumi found his hand under the blanket, folded it in his own.

"Completely different," Tatsumi said. "The same day, the same moment, but so different."

"Anniversaries are odd, like that," said Watari. "Dates are meaningless, really. Crude measurements of a dimension we don't even really understand. Just some way to focus the mind."

"It feels better, here. Peaceful. Thank you, Yutaka."

"My pleasure, Seiichirou."

"I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important."

Watari shook his head. "I wasn't getting anywhere. Still working on that new algorithm for my virtual demonography simul-" He noticed Tatsumi's eyes glaze over at the mention of the word algorithm, and smiled to himself. "Nothing important," he finished, rubbing his thumb gently over Tatsumi's little finger. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Tatsumi dropped his head back onto the sofa, staring up at the rich, dark wood of the cabin roof. "I fear what might happen to him, if..."

"If Gushoshin's right about the next resurgence."

"Yes."

"We'll take care of him. It won't be easy but... he must sense it, just like the rest of us, and it hasn't seemed to effect him any more than anyone else."

"No. I just... feel..."

Watari waited patiently, but Tatsumi seemed to lose the thread of his sentence. He gazed at the fire, deep into the flames, his hand warm around Watari's.

"We've faced difficult times before," said Watari, eventually. "I know I wasn't there last time, but..."

Tatsumi turned to him, nudged out of his thoughts, and smiled. "You're right. Of course. Excuse me, Yatuka. It's a sad day, and I don't seem to be able to-"

Watari leaned in a little closer, and kissed him.

He could taste Tatsumi's need in the warmth of his response: his fingers threading through Watari's hair, his mouth soft and welcoming. When Watari slipped his tongue inside, Tatsumi stroked it with his own, sucked it softly; when he pulled back a little Tatsumi chased him, nipping gently at his lower lip. Watari shivered with pleasure, and snuggled closer, sliding his arms around Tatsumi's waist underneath his jacket, tugging the crisp white shirt out of his trousers to feel the warm skin beneath. Tatsumi moaned, so hungry to be touched. So lonely. So sad.

Watari resolved to cure that, for the next hour or two at least. He couldn't do much to relieve the cause of Tatsumi's sadness, but he could take his mind off it. He'd been doing that a lot, one way and the other, over the past few months. Not always by making love to him, although it seemed to be one of the most pleasurable and effective methods. They'd spent hours talking in Watari's lab, often well into the night. They'd walked together, played go and chess and some odd wordgames that Tatsumi had learned as a child. Sometimes Tatsumi would just sit in the corner of the lab and read while Watari worked, away from the bustle of the office and the emptiness of his own apartment.

And while it was sad that Tatsumi kept his anguish locked inside of him, Watari felt privileged to share these times with his friend. Pleased that of all the shinigami, and despite their occasional arguments, he was the one Tatsumi chose to, if not open up to, then at least to take refuge in.

He slid Tatsumi's jacket smoothly over his shoulders, helped him wriggle his arms out of the sleeves, and lay it carefully on the sofa behind them.

003 grumbled to herself, and turned her face to the wall.

Watari set about stripping Tatsumi of the rest of his clothes, lingering to enjoy the smooth skin as it emerged; the toned, clearly defined muscles.

"Are you warm enough?" asked Tatsumi, working his way down the line of Watari's shirt buttons. "We could go to the bedroom or-"

"This is fine," said Watari, shrugging his own shirt impatiently off his shoulders before setting to work on Tatsumi's trousers. In fact it was still a little chilly, but he didn't want to break the moment, and besides, he was confident they would soon warm up.

He kissed his way back up Tatsumi's naked legs, lingering to tease the inside of his knee, one of his most sensitive spots. He quickly shucked off his own jeans and underwear before continuing his journey, tracing a damp line with his tongue up one thigh, skirting around his rapidly stiffening cock to dip in his navel. His hair trailed up Tatsumi's belly and chest as he moved up to kiss his throat, his jaw, and finally his mouth. He swung one leg over both of Tatsumi's to straddle him, settling down on his thighs with a little wiggle.

Tatsumi smiled at him, and slid his arms around his waist, settling his hands lightly on the curve of his butt. "You look good like that, Yutaka," he said.

"Not so bad yourself." Watari wrapped his fingers slowly around Tatsumi's sex, hard now, twitching in his grip. Tatsumi's eyes fluttered closed; he reached up with one hand to take off his glasses, but Watari caught his wrist.

"Leave them on," he said. "I like them."

Watari watched the smile light Tatsumi's eyes, and pulled his hand to his lips, kissing first the palm and then each fingertip, pausing to suck the middle finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip. Tatsumi gasped, and his cock leapt in Watari's hand.

The sadness was almost gone now, just the faintest cast in those deep blue eyes. Watari watched as Tatsumi lost himself, focused only on the pleasure Watari was bringing him, and on returning every touch and kiss with his own gentle affection. Such a wonderful lover, tender and considerate, pulling the blanket up over Watari's shoulders when he shivered, cold after all. Taking time to prepare them both thoroughly, his slick fingers a welcome invasion into Watari's willing body.

Tsuzuki doesn't know what he's missing.

Watari swept Tatsumi's hair back from his face, and looked into his eyes as he impaled himself, rejoicing in the heat and pleasure he saw there.

"Is that good, Seiichirou?" he asked, sinking himself all the way down, his own voice trembling at the glorious feeling of fullness.

"Better than good," Tatsumi whispered, and drew him close for a kiss, rocking his hips up to embed himself completely in Watari's body. "Glorious."

Watari wasn't about to argue; it felt wonderful to him, too, so wonderful he barely trusted himself to speak. His eyes slid shut and he bit his lower lip, dropping his head back, the blanket dropping to the floor again. His hair swung down and softly tickled his naked back.

Tatsumi's fingers teased the head of Watari's cock, spreading the bead of fluid he found there over the tip. Watari wound his arms around Tatsumi's neck, and started to move.

It was smooth and graceful, with Tatsumi, like a dance. He held himself almost still while Watari rode him, just watching, enjoying the thought and the sight of what they were doing as much as the sensation. As Watari picked up the pace, he rested his hands on Watari's waist and started to flex his hips in time, pausing occasionally to thrust deep, holding Watari still while they kissed.

And his touch, oh his touch, sure and firm one minute, light and teasing the next, keeping him always, always almost there.

Soon his breath was coming fast, his eyes flickering closed a little more often, his kisses were harder and shorter as his thrusts became longer and deeper. Watari fought to keep from taking his pleasure, wanting to see Tatsumi take his, to enjoy the moment of oblivion, the gift he brought his friend.

Tatsumi arched his back, pushed as far inside Watari as he could possibly go, and let out a groan, his body consumed by the shudders of orgasm, ecstasy and relief washing over him in waves.

It was irresistible, the pleasure he so clearly felt, and Watari found himself joining him, whether he wanted to or not, spurting between their bodies, warm and wet, pulling air deep into his lungs to prolong the pleasure.

He slowly became aware of Tatsumi's hair tickling his nose; he'd collapsed forwards, his face buried in Tatsumi's neck, and somehow he suddenly lacked the energy to move. He felt the soft brush of a kiss to his head, and the rough wool of the blanket being pulled up again, heard the crackle of the logs finally bursting into flame.

He let Tatsumi hold him close, and drifted off to sleep.

* * * * * * *

Hisoka was asleep. Tsuzuki lay next to him, watching, head propped on one elbow. He wanted to stroke back the strand of hair that was tickling Hisoka's nose and making him frown, but didn't dare. The last time he'd touched Hisoka when he'd been asleep his partner had screamed so loudly that Watari had rushed in from his lab, convinced that they were under attack. Apparently the sudden rush of feelings tended to cause the most vivid dreams, and considering his state of mind at the moment, Tsuzuki guessed he wouldn't be giving his friend pleasant ones.

Which was a shame, because Hisoka looked so vulnerable when he was asleep, and so very young, and Tsuzuki liked to hold him. The bond they shared grew stronger by the day, as they slowly healed and guided each other on their respective journeys.

He had helped so much, today. Tsuzuki hadn't quite been able to put it into words, other than a simple 'thank you' as they settled down to bed. But it was the first anniversary of that dreadful day that Tsuzuki could remember passing in anything short of total despair.

He wondered how Tatsumi had spent the day. He would have been at the Hypocentre, or maybe the Peace Park, probably even earlier that he had himself. He'd half hoped they'd run into each other, although then again...

More than fifty years, and still it hurt.

He had to admit, he wasn't good at letting go of his feelings. He was still haunted by events from his life, never mind the three-quarters-of-a-century of his afterlife. That held true for the nicer feelings, too, though. Tsuzuki smiled as he remembered the first time he'd heard Hisoka laugh, Tatsumi's kindness, Watari's ludicrous experiments. Better thoughts for sleep than-

And then it hit him. Something wrong, something quietly dark and evil, shifting about the earth, shivering up his spine. An echo of a fiery breeze, an acrid sigh. A touch of feathers, the cool cut of a knife into vulnerable flesh.

It was gone as quickly as it had come, and left him trembling in a cold sweat.

He'd felt it before. But never, never as much as that. He sat up, scrubbing his eyes with his fists, and tugged the covers around him, not wanting to sleep until the feeling had passed. Hisoka slept on, apparently oblivious, not so much as a twitch of nightmare, as far as Tsuzuki could tell.

A shimmer in the air, and Tatsumi stood before him, with, for some reason, 003 perched on his shoulder.

"Are you alright, Tsuzuki?" 003 hopped onto Hisoka's futon and nudged at his hand; somehow Hisoka managed to caress the little owl's feathers without, apparently, waking up.

"Yes," Tsuzuki said, suddenly aware of the fact that he was clad only in his underwear and one thin sheet, while Tatsumi was fully and, as usual, immaculately dressed. "You felt it too?"

Tatsumi nodded. "Did you talk to Karusaki-san about it today?"

"Yes. At the Hypocentre. I didn't say much, but..."

"Gushoshin briefed us this afternoon. It looks even bigger than we thought. And soon."

Tsuzuki shuddered.

"But you're... alright," said Tatsumi, reaching out to brush the hair from Tszuki's eyes.

They looked at each other for a long moment.

"I must get back," said Tatsumi, softly. "Try and finish here as soon as you can."

Tsuzuki nodded, longing to pull Tatsumi down and kiss him, to strip him naked and drag him under the covers and tell him he loved him.

It was too late, of course. Fifty years too late. And besides, it wouldn't change anything. Tatsumi didn't love him back, not the way he wanted. He never had.

Tatsumi scooped up a grumbling 003, who had looked all set to sleep snuggled up to Hisoka, bid Tsuzuki good night and returned to Meifu in a flicker of light. Tsuzuki lay back, pulling the sheet up to his chin, and closed his eyes.

He was drifting, almost asleep, when he felt a warm hand fumble its way into his. In fact, he must be dreaming, because only Hisoka was there... and Hisoka was fast asleep... and had no way of knowing... he needed...

Tsuzuki slept.

Hisoka pressed his fingers gently into Tsuzuki's once more before he joined him.

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