Communion

Brushing past harried shoppers and businessmen, Muraki contemplated Sakura’s lunch menu. He enjoyed treating himself to a fine meal when things weren't too hectic at the hospital. He thought suddenly of his lover. Tsuzuki would enjoy the rich desserts. He decided to invite him to dinner soon.

Distracted by pleasant daydreams, he didn’t notice the teenage boy running toward him. Had his mind not been on slathering his body with white chocolate mousse for Tsuzuki to lick off, he would have avoided the collision.

A boy rammed into him at top speed, jarring him from his delightful imaginings. He glared down at messy brown curls. He opened his mouth, but the sharp remark in his mind didn’t make it past his lips. The boy wore a high school uniform. One hand clutched the handle of a violin case. With the addition of a blonde wig, he would be identical to Kurosaki Hisoka.

The boy murmured. "Forgive me, sir. I should not have been running."

Cherry blossom season is so soon. Muraki thought. No, I can't kill him. Tsuzuki would surely know.

He smiled. Once a corpse was disposed of, he didn’t think about the victim again. Hisoka was the only exception. He had preserved the boy at sixteen forever, his flesh pristine save the curse marks. It pleased him that they had remained after his death.

"I make it a policy to forgive any and all beautiful men who run into me." He said, eliciting a charming blush from the boy. "I escaped the terrors of the hospital commissary to have a bite of lunch at Sakura. Join me?"

"I would sensei, but I doubt I could even afford a cup of tea at Sakura." The boy said apologetically.

"Since I'll be treating, that's beside the point. My manners appear to have deserted me. I'm Muraki Kazutaka."

"Minase Hijiri. I'm pleased to meet you, Muraki-sensei, but I can't let you buy me such an expensive lunch."

"The feeling is entirely mutual, Minase-kun. Are you sure I can't tempt you? You can always pay me back, when you're a famous violinist."

Hijiri grinned. There were no more refusals. Muraki ushered him across the street and into Sakura. A string quartet played in the background, sounding lovely if sedate. The boy looked around wide-eyed. The doctor approached the hostess with his new friend in tow.

“I would like a table for two.” He said.

“Of course, sensei. If you and your guest would please follow me, I have just the table in mind.”

“Thank you.”

The table was secluded and perhaps more intimate than necessary for a luncheon date, but he appreciated the discretion. Hijri smiled shyly at Muraki and gently set aside his violin case. They looked at menus.

"Oh there aren't prices." The teen said.

"That isn't a problem." Muraki smiled. "Order anything."

"I wouldn't know what to get, sensei. Will you order for me?"

"Yes, of course."

“What kind of doctor are you?” Hijiri asked.

“A surgeon.” Muraki replied. He nodded to a passing waiter who approached the table. “My specialty is transplantation.”

"That’s amazing."

Muraki ordered for both of them, and the waiter left.

“I have a cornea transplant." Hijiri said. "Despite the... complications I’ve had, I’m truly grateful.”

"Not rejection, I hope." Muraki asked.

"Oh no. I had an infection, but I'm fine now."

"I'm glad to hear that you're no longer having problems."

"Thank you." Hijiri said. "It must be so rewarding to be a doctor."

"Sometimes." Muraki murmured.

He deftly turned the conversation away from himself and asked about his lunch companion’s studies, friends, and future plans. He doubted that the latter coincided with his own plans for the boy.

Their food arrived and they thanked the waiter.

"Oh this is good." Hijiri said.

Muraki said. "I'm glad that you're enjoying yourself."

Tsuzuki would rightfully suspect him if he were called to collect this boy's soul.

Does he know what happens outside of his district? He wondered. If not, Kokakurou would be perfect, but Oriya would hate this.

He prodded a piece of asparagus with his chopsticks, before lifting it to his mouth.

If I let him live, I could do it again.

Hijiri was gazing at Muraki in quiet adoration, clearly stunned that the handsome doctor was so taken with his company. Muraki once more took up the reins of the conversation, and asked the boy questions about his playing.

Wig or bleach? Muraki asked himself. It would be easiest to match the shade with a wig, but then I couldn’t pull his hair. Hmm. Bleach then dye. Perfect.

“Hijiri-kun, I thoroughly enjoyed our lunch together.” He said. “I can honestly say that this is the first time I’ve been glad that someone ran into me.”

“I had fun too, Muraki-sensei. I wish we had just come in, so we could have lunch together again!”

“I could devote my life to the study of temporal physics, hoping to someday build a time machine to travel back to that moment with you, but I think it would be easier to plan another meeting.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I enjoy your company and you seem to enjoy mine.”

“I do!" Hijiri enthused. He blushed and looked down. "I mean, I’d like that, sensei.”

"Here's my private number." Muraki drew a business card and a pen from his pocket. He wrote his home number on the back and handed it to Hijiri. "Promise you'll call me." Muraki purred.

"I promise."

to be continued...