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Fever	By : Macx Category: Descendents of Darkness/Yami No Matsuei > General Views: 3349 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Descendants of Darkness (Yami no Matsuei), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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I know him from somewhere. I know this aura, this feeling, and
it's so familiar I could scream because I can't say where from!
Tsuzuki sat in the afternoon sunzingzing into the sky. Cherry blossoms
moved lazily across his field of vision, the blue sky filling the gaps
between the leaves. It had been two days now that he had left the Palace
of Candles, two days since he had been declared non-contagious and had
been allowed back with his friends. Watari had checked him from head to
toe, but there had been no ill effects left. He was healthy again, whole
and healthy, and there was no lingering pain, fever or sickness.
Hisoka had been there when he had been told it was time to leave. Walking
out of the palace, the massive building at the edge of the underworld,
so far removed from everything else, Tsuzuki had felt the gaze of his host
on him. And he had sensed the aura. Now that he was better, now that his
powers were back, now that his link to Touda was strengthening� now he
sensed the sadness, the pain, the longing. He had never done so before.
He had never been what he was now before.
Tsuzuki chewed on his lower lip as he let memories pass through his
fever-free mind.
He had developed his abilities a lot lately, mostly thanks to Touda's
bond, and he knew that what he had sensed from the Count had been real.
He had noticed the aura before, but he hadn't really given it much thought
after the horrifying events in the palace throughout the masquerade. The
Count had helped him, had supported him in a manner that was so unlike
his usual approach, he should have noticed.
He hadn't.
He should have.
Now he had.
Tsuzuki closed his eyes, felt the darkness inside him move, and he felt
Touda's presence.
//What is he?// he asked his shikigami.
//I can't answer that// was the reply.
//He's none of us. He's not a shinigami, but I know his aura. And I
felt his sadness, his need� but it wasn't like before. It wasn't as if
he just waited for me to fall into his bed. And� I saw him, Touda. I think
I saw him�//
//You saw him?//
//His face� I remember a face and strange eyes, looking at me� someone
touching me� holding me throughout the nightmares. It was him//
//He showed himself//
//Yes. We� talked, too. It was the first time we actually did so� normally.
He's so alone�//
//It's his punishment// was the soft reminder.
Tsuzuki looked at the black shikigami and drew closer, feeling old memories
of Touda's own punishment rise. He wrapped himself around the dark presence.
//I wonder what he did//
Touda chuckled darkly. //There's only one person in this realm that
knows. I doubt you'd get an answer//
Yes. Only one person. Enma-Daiou� And the Lord of Hades wouldn't talk.
Tsuzuki wasn't inclined to ask anyway. The last time he had seen the powerful
entity had been when Enma-Daiou had initiated the bond between him and
Touda, and it had been a terrifying and painful experience.
//He's only human// Tsuzuki murmured.
//You all are//
There was movement in the outside world and Tsuzuki reluctantly drew
back from the familiar anchor, blinking his eyes open. He met a cool, green
gaze, a familiar expression in a young face that showed no emotions. That
changed from one second to another as warmth chased away the ice, melted
the mask into a human expression, and Tsuzuki smiled at Hisoka as the young
shinigami sat down beside him.
"You okay?"
It was a redundant question from an empath but Tsuzuki appreciated it
anyway.
"Fine."
Those green eyes penetrated his shields, searched for the true answer,
and finally Hisoka nodded. Out of apulspulse, Tsuzuki leaned forward and
brushed their lips together. Hisoka hadn't moved away and now had the younger
one's hand cup his neck, hold him, answer his loving contact, and Tsuzuki
felt the mouth underneath his open willingly.
When he drew back, he pulled Hisoka into his embrace, snuggling against
the familiar body, relaxing into the warmth.
"What did he do to you?" Hisoka asked after a while.
"Nothing," Tsuzuki answered, clearly aware of what was being asked.
"He was a perfect host."
"Something's bothering you. If it isn't some perverted scheme from the
Count, then what?"
He was silent for a while. "He's lonely, Hisoka. So terribly lonely.
He can't leave, he cannot show himself to us� he's invisible to all and
dependent on our visits. Whatever he did� whatever it was� it can't be
so terrible that it deserves this eternal sentence."

Hisoka looked at him, face unreadable.
"I felt his aura, Hisoka. It was familiar, but I don't know why. And
I felt his pain."
"And probably his perversion, too."
"I think I would be like him if I had been imprisoned for so long� I
can't remember him not being there. He was there before Tatsumi, before
Konoe, before all of us. Decades, centuries� more? Always alone, except
for Watson. I think I would have lost my mind a long time ago." Tsuzuki
sighed, instinctively searching for reassurance both from inside, from
the bond, and from the warmth in his arms. He received both. He needed
both.
"You can't change it," Hisoka simply said.
"No, I can't."
"So why do you think bout it?"
"I spent a week with the Count, Hisoka, three days of which I was out
like a light because of the fever. The rest we talked. I think I glimpsed
something familiar now and then� and I� I just wish I could ease his pain."
"You can't change the world into a better place."
He chuckled at the cool statement. Hisoka had always been the emotionally
more controlled, the more logical and rational of them. He saw everything
from outside, rarely got involved, but when he did it usually shattered
him. Tsuzuki wanted to help, did get involved, and it more often than not
left him hurt and bleeding inside.
Hisoka moved to straddle his lover's lap and leaned forward, capturing
Tsuzuki's lips, kissing him with a depth and love the young shinigami rarely
showed outside their private life.
"I love your compassion," he whispered when they parted. "I love your
warmth and love and empathic ways when it comes to other souls, but you
cannot change the facts."
"I know." He ran his hands over the slender back, feeling the living,
breathing body under his touch.
It was like an instinct and whenever he sensed that need, that pain,
he had to help. He knew he rarely could. He was an angel of death and bringing
life and warmth wasn't in his job description.
Hisoka kissed him again, melting against him, bringing their bodies
together, and Tsuzuki held him tightly, losing himself in the other, trying
to forget what had been, knowing he never would.
* * *
Watson watched his master walk through the palace, checking the candles,
his movements fluid, lithe, almost predatory. As usual. He was doing his
job, but there was a new touch to his behavior.
Ever since Tsuzuki.
The presence of the young shinigami had both depressed and elated the
Count. He was his life line and his bane. He was his most fervent wish
and something he could never have.
Watson knew more about this man he served than any other. He knew of
the atrocities he had committed in his former life, the very deeds that
had brought upon him this eternal sentence. Tsuzuki would run from this
man should he ever know; he would never be able to understand. Watson did
understand, had seen more than anyone else, had been there when it had
happened, and he had survived. His master had made him what he was today,
a reminder of his past, never to be forgotten.
As if anyone ever could.
The servant turned to the table of dishes and started to clean them
away. He didn't mind sharing his master's sentence, but sometimes he ached
deep inside when he looked past the façade this man projected. He
had gone through everything with him, had been there for the ups and downs,
for the pain, the desperation, the despair and finally the perversions.
He didn't judge. He never had. That was someone else's job and it had
already been done.
No ordinary man would have survived as intact as the Count had, and
what he hid behind his pleasantries and his 'hobbies' was a wounded, keening
soul that sought for nothing but companionship in any form given to him.
Because he could never demand. He could only beg.
Watson waddled off into the kitchen with his tray of dishes.
He could still remember the day Tsuzuki Asato had arrived in Meifu.
It had been the day when the Count had suddenly changed, when he had stood
on the balcony that faced toward the far away Judicial building, that was
the farthest he could get from the palace. He had stood there for hours,
just staring, and he had smiled.
So softly, so longingly.
Watson had been intrigued, and he had been even more intrigued when
the young shinigami had come to the Palace for the first time. His master
had flocked toward him like a starving man toward a buffet table. He had
flirted, wooed and almost thrown himself at this young one, and Watson
had watched.
"My salvation," the Count had whispered in a private moment later on.
"My light, my life. Oh Tsuzuki� just a smile from you gives me more than
any pleasure I could think of."
As time went past Watson began to understand. He witnessed the blooming
of the shinigami's power, his gathering of shikigami, his influence on
all around him, without even noticing any of it. And he saw his master
change, come out of the shell that had kept the world from his torn soul.
He had watched him turn toward Tsuzuki like a flower to the sun, open up,
inviting him in, but he never let any of his real motivation show. He still
hid.
Watson sighed to himself as he stacked clean dishes into the cupboard.
The Count would never be able to show his true self to Tsuzuki. Not
the man who looked for an erotic adventure but the man who had committed
a crime that he would never be able to pay off, the man who had been brought
from the depths of Hell to another hell, a much worse hell.
A man who could never escape.
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