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Pawn	By : Macx Category: Descendents of Darkness/Yami No Matsuei > General Views: 2480 -:- 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
- 1-Pawn
- 2-part 2
- 3-part 3
- 4-part 4
- 5-part 5
- 6-part 6
- 7-part 7
- 8-part 8
- 9-part 9
- 10-part 10
- 11-part 11
- 12-part 12
- 13-part 13
- 14-part 14
- 7
- 8
- 9
The apartment was a battle field. Nothing was where it had been, nothing
seemed to be whole, and the walls looked scorched. Shinigami power, magic,
had struck everything in its reach, had burned and shattered and destroyed.
Tsuzuki could still feel the echoes of it.
Hisoka's power.
He knew what it felt like. It was something he had quickly grown accustomed
to. It wasn't just the magic Hisoka had been given when he had become a
shinigami, but also his empathic abilities that could strike out at a target
and stun it if he used it for that. It was tiring for the young shinigami
and he had rarely used it before, but once or twice Tsuzuki had been witness
to it.
"Hisoka?" he called, fear in his voice.
What had been able to come into Meifu, invade their private apartment,
and do this? What had triggered such a massive defense? And why had no
one noticed?
Like so many things had gone unnoticed, a little voice reminded him.
Like so many unexplained phenomena had struck them in the past.
"Hisoka!"
The bed was slashed, feathers everywhere, the filling spread all over
the floor. The hardwood floor as such had seen better days, burned and
scorched and full of cracks and deep grooves. A large crack went all the
way up the wall to the ceiling where it had brought down the lamp.
"Hisoka! Where are you?"
He couldn't sense his partner anywhere. There wasn't even the faintest
whiff of a presence, only remnants. Hisoka had been here, and he had disappeared.
And then Tsuzuki saw the blood.
Pools, droplets, smears.
"Hisoka..."
He approached the bed, careful not to step into the blood, and his stomach
froze into a cold knot as he discovered something underneath the torn bed
sheet and feathers.
A rose.
Deep red, exquisite. A single rose with a long, perfect stem, and sharp
thorns.
There was a small envelope next to it, covered in down. Tsuzuki picked
it up, hands shaking. His name was on it, written in perfect handwriting.
I have your little partner, Asato. You can have him back if you meet
with me. We have so much catching up to do.
There was an address and a signature.
Tsuzuki felt suddenly very, very cold.
Muraki.
Muraki had... he had come here... to Meifu... and he had taken Hisoka...
and he wanted to meet him... Muraki...
The old nightmare from years ago broke free and the shinigami sank to
his knees in the chaos that surrounded him. He felt nauseous, sick, like
he would throw up any minute. Muraki... The man who had changed him forever,
who had turned his life upside down, who had left such deep scars, and
who knew about his past.
Whose grandfather had treated Tsuzuki until the day the young man had
ended his miserable existence.
Whose deeds so far had only brought terror and pain.
Who had taken Tsuzuki and killed him over and over again, had wanted
his body, his shinigami abilities, to experiment with.
Whose hands had been on his skin and who had... who had taken Hisoka.
Hisoka, who had died because of Muraki. Who was carrying the curse his
human self had been forced to suffer under, that had killed him, and even
as a shinigami he couldn't be free.
"Hisoka," Tsuzuki whispered, lips numb.
And Muraki had come to Meifu to take his 'puppet', his victim.
"Not again. Not AGAIN!"
His habitual black coat fluttered behind him like bat wings as Tsuzuki
left the trashed apartment. Within the blink of an eye he was gone, crossing
from Meifu into the world of the living.
An avenging angel. An angel of death.
° ° °
The first thing that registered was the coppery taste in his mouth.
He needed a few seconds before his muddled brain recognized the taste as
for what it was � blood. His own, he realized, if the pain of barely healed
wounds was a indicator. Hisoka sucked a lungful of air into his lungs when
the attempt to move resulted in another flash of pain and rolled around
as far as his bounds would allow to cough up a splash of blood that had
blocked his airways. Damn, the empath mused groggily, wondering for a second
if anybody had noted the license plate number of the truck that had hit
him when his brain provided him with the true reason fir his current condition.
A blurry image ... silvery hair ... cold eyes ... Muraki.
And he hadn't even sensed him.
Why the hell hadn't he sensed him?
There had been a simple knock on his door and when Hisoka had answered
the impact of a magical blast had send him flying into the next best wall.
A second later the doctor had been all over him and he had fought back
with everything he had � which wasn't little. He had ended in a bloody
heap on the bed anyhow, the hated form of Muraki holding him down and sneering
into his face, as his hand had slid over his body.
"Awake again, my doll?" the satiny voice of his tormentor cut into hid
thoughts. Hisoka stared into the cold silver eye and fought down his involuntary
fear response.
"What the fuck do you want, Muraki?" he snarled, letting anger replace
the rising panic. He wasn't thirteen anymore, he was a shinigami and he
had enough of running, goddamnit.
Muraki tsked. "My, my, what a language, my own. Does that suit you?
I don't think so."
A ray of light reflected on the silvery blade of the scalpel as Muraki
raised a hand.
"Let's do something about that, why< don't we, as we wait for your
lover, hm? I always wanted to know if in a shinigami the vocal cords replace
themselves � or the heart ... "
Hisoka looked into his nemesis's eyes and his heart sank with the horrific
realization � there wasn't any cold calculation in Muraki's face
anymore. He looked into the eyes of a man who was far gone, who hadn't
anything to lose anymore. Hisoka didn't get the chance to scream
when the blade sank into his throat and cut off his voice before it sank
into his chest.
° ° °
Ryu knew he had a problem. First, there was a gigantic, black snake
lying in his palace. Touda was barely conscious, twitching now and then,
and he was radiating cold. The cold of Limbo.
Terazuma was out like a light, just as cold to the touch, and Watson
had carried in hot bottles and blankets to warm the man up. There were
no open wounds, but the shock to the shinigami's system had probably been
immense. He had been torn apart from his shikigami and flung into the blackness
that was Limbo, protected by a thin layer of ever-dissolving energy.
Ryu studied the suddenly so different features of the man he had known
for three decades now. Terazuma had always been the possessed shinigami,
the man with the red eyes, the black stripes under his eyes, and the pointed
ears. As well as a growly attitude and a temper to match it. He had been
very self-controlled when it came to archery and his job, but whenever
he had collided with Tsuzuki, sparks had erupted. It had been a violent
firework of clashing personalities.
That had changed. Like to many thanks.
And Tsuzuki had been the one who had been the central point of it all.
Ryu smiled a little. He knew how much he owed this man already, and
he would never be able to repay it.
"Warm up a few more bottles, Watson," he said softly. "Just to be ready.
We have to stabilize his body temperature."
The servant nodded and hurried off.
Ryu sighed softly and smoothed the woolen blanket. When Watson returned
he left him to watch their patient and walked back down outside to where
Touda was. The Palace was hesitantly repairing itself, mostly because the
shikigami was still half laying in two rooms at once, the wall shattered
and a pile of rubble left and right of the snake form.
"What to do with you?" he murmured.
There was no answer.
And the next question came immediately: where was Tsuzuki? He had expected
him to come running the moment his bonded shikigami had crashed into the
Palace of Candles. As it was, no one had come. And it wasn't as if the
arrival of the hell serpent hadn't set off a dozen alarms.
No one was here.
No one at all.
What is going on here? he thought again.
Well, whatever it was, he had someone to take care of. Terazuma was
already being treated and now Touda was the next in line. He had to warm
him up and though there weren't enough blankets in this realm to cover
the massive body, he and Watson would try their best to raise the serpent's
body temperature somehow.
° ° °
Muraki had chosen a remote place for the final showdown. He knew what
he would soon face, what would be triggered, and there was no use luring
Tsuzuki into the middle of a lively city. The young man would be too worried
about killing the living to truly unleash his potential. So he had come
here, into this remote place where no trace of human life had remained.
OmniFair was an abandoned compound that consisted of several large fair
halls, some smaller side buildings, and a lot of open space between them.
Fifteen years ago, this ground had been the center point of every large
fair, from technology to exhibits to simple fun fairs. The endless,
empty concrete parking lots were proof of that, as were the abandoned Ferris
wheels and supply stores farther outside the immediate center. Five years
ago, a new fairground had been built, better equipped, very modern, easier
to reach by bus and rail, in the immediate vicinity of an airport. OmniFair
had closed completely after a valiant struggle to attract customers with
a year-round fun fair.
Now rats scurried through the empty, yawning halls. Rubble and decaying
material piled in some corners, the perfect hiding place for the vermin.
In one of the buildings Hisoka hung bound in his chains, unable to free
himself from the special construction that could hold even an angel of
death. Muraki studied his doll, smiled as he saw the curse flare on the
creamy skin.
"Did he enjoy touching you?" he whispered.
There was no answer.
Hisoka had still not regained consciousness, though his heart had started
beating again. Blood was drying at the foot of the cross-like construction,
the boy still spread-eagled for Muraki to touch him however he wanted.
"He's coming for you. Soon your partner will be here and it will be
over."
Placing two fingers under the bloody chin, Muraki pushed up the boy's
head.
"Are you already trembling with excitement?" He smiled. "I am. Oh yes,
I am..."
And then he felt the power of an angel of death draw near.
"Right on the hour," Muraki murmured. "Punctual. Very, very punctual.
Too bad you can't watch, Hisoka. It would be so perfect."
He let the head drop back onto the equally bloody chest and turned to
leave. He was ready to take the last step in this life-long game.
° ° °
Tsuzuki stood in what must have served as storage or personnel rooms
when the fairgrounds had still been in use. There were shower rooms, now
dry and defunct, the tiles already dropping off the walls; empty rooms,
rooms where a lot of equipment had been shoved into, all of them covered
in dust; and the locker room, which connected two buildings. The locker
room was a long rectangle, endless rows of metal lockers standing in neat
lines, and the small overhead windows bathing everything in a weird light.
Dust and grime had blinded the windows over the last decade.
He carefully picked his way along one row. Most of the lockers were
closed, but some stood open and he peeked inside. Nothing. Smiley faces
laughed at him from other locker doors, and one open door had a halfway
ripped off pin-up girl from an old calendar glued to it.
There was no sound except his own, light steps as he finished the row
without any interruption.
Tsuzuki could feel Muraki's presence. He could feel the tell-tale aura
of magic.
The door to the next building was unlocked and he pushed it open. He
was outside once more, opposite Hall 14. The huge numbers were painted
on the former fairground hall, the paint now flaking.
Tsuzuki crossed the open ground, following the traces of Muraki, aware
that this was most likely a trap. He didn't really care. Muraki had his
partner and he would pay for it.
The hall as such was huge and it had large windows on the ground floor.
They were all grimy, so he was unable to sneak a look inside.
He entered.
The hall must have been some kind of food pavilion once. There were
several small booths at one end, tables and chairs lined up in a wide area
around them. Colorful ribbons had been woven around the wood and steel
constructions, some of them badly bleached through time. The other half
of the hall was a giant playground for kids. Or had been. There was a large
indoor sandbox, several wooden animals fixed on large, sturdy steel springs
for kids to ride on, and assorted other, old playground stuff. Signs telling
the visitors where the restrooms where and which door led to what building
outside hung precariously on their rusty nails.
Tsuzuki remained next to the door, very, very careful of walking into
a trap. Nothing moved; everything was dead silent. He walked almost soundlessly
ever deeper inside and made his way over to the children's playground,
feet sinking into the soft sand. There was barely any litter around, just
the dust covering the grainy ground. Suddenly he stopped, eyes narrowing.
The playground was mostly a sandbox with upturned timbers, some old roots,
and the wooden animals on springs. It had been created in a gently sloping
pattern, small mounts of sand here or there..... and the mounts were what
disturbed him.
Before Tsuzuki had any chance to think any further, sand exploded left
of him and something jumped straight at the shinigami.

tbc...
- 7
- 8
- 9
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