Illuminating the Darkness

BY : LucyMay
Category: Descendents of Darkness/Yami No Matsuei > General
Dragon prints: 2632
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.

A/N: I sincerely apologize for taking so long! I've had a bad bout of writer's block, I'm afraid. Anyhoo, reviews always encourage me greatly...hint, hint. ;D

Hisoka sat up in the darkness, shaken from a terrible dream. Unlike the usual nightmares that plagued him when he knew Muraki was somewhere near, this one had been unlike any he'd had before. He remembered a village engulphed in flames, and found himself running into a murky forest as far and as fast as he could, leaving everyone behind him, and feeling overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and grief that he did now know the origin of.

“Tsuzuki?” Hisoka said softly to the sleeping form beside him. He studied the side of Tsuzuki's face as his eyes adjusted, and found him looking peaceful and undisturbed by his voice. He kissed the other man's dark hair with relief, and stood from the bed.

“Couldn't sleep, either, little one?” a voice startled him as he stepped out to the long walkway adjoining the rooms outside. Watari regarded him warmly from where he leaned against the railing, the lights of the city twinkling beyond.

“I had a bad dream,” Hisoka said, joining him. “It's no big deal.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Watari asked.

“Not really,” Hisoka said with a heavy sigh.

“You sound exhausted,” Watari said.

Hisoka shrugged, giving a noncommittal little grunt, and absently looked out over the railing. He tried to clear his mind without success, his head buzzing with questions and thoughts that he knew would not allow him to rest.

“So,” Watari said after a long silence, “Which one do you think will be on top?” Hisoka gave him a look of confusion.

“What are you talking about?” Hisoka asked irritably, afraid the scientist might mean what he thought he had.

“The chibis,” Watari said with a laugh. “I've been trying to figure out which one seems like they'd be more dominant ever since Hy made his adorable little confession.”

“That's not what's keeping you up, is it?” Hisoka asked, giving him a look of mild disgust.

“Now why would I be thinking about the things that got me out of bed in the first place? Seems rather counter-productive, seeing as I'm sure we'd both rather be sleeping,” Watari said with a grin.

“Why are you so interested in what other people do in private, anyway?” Hisoka asked, shaking his head.

“I just like to see people in love. I'm an incurable romantic,” Watari said with a dreamy sigh.

“An incurable pervert,” Hisoka muttered.

“Don't tell me you haven't wondered,” Watari said with an all-knowing air.

“If this is your idea of distracting me from worrying --” Hisoka began, as the two turned at the sound of an opening door.

“Oh! Um, hi guys,” Hy said with a startled squeak, as he saw them. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn't sleep,” Hisoka said, glancing at the box Hy was clutching behind his back.

“Caught me,” Hy said with a sheepish grin, revealing the thin cigars he held. “Don't tell Michael, okay? He'd whoop my hide if he knew. He thinks I quit.”

“I think we found an answer to our question,” Watari said with amused satisfaction.

“Question?” Hy asked innocently.

“Never mind,” Hisoka said, shooting a glare at the smug blonde and changing the subject quickly. “Why is he making you quit? It shouldn't be a health risk to a shinigami.”

“Yeah, I know, that's what I said. He just doesn't like the way it smells,” Hy said with a pout.

“Somebody's whipped,” Watari said with a wink. Hy flushed slightly as he lit up.

“He's worth it though,” Hy said with a timid grin. “I know he never talks much around y'all, but he's really smart and funny. He's good at this job, too. I think his mom was pretty strict with him when he was trained to be a shinigami. He's taught me a lot.”

Hisoka smiled to himself at the feelings of affection and pride coming from the other boy when he spoke, and turned back towards his room.

“I think I'm going to try to sleep now,” Hisoka said, slipping away as Hy and Watari talked. As much as he hated to admit it, Watari had swayed his thoughts in a less troubling direction. He paused as he placed his hand on the doorknob to their room, hearing a voice inside.

“No! You're wrong! I'm not like him,” Tsuzuki argued, before Hisoka was startled by a loud crash.

Flinging open the door, he found Tsuzuki alone before a smashed mirror, the older shinigami gazing at a jagged piece of the broken glass in his hand with a wild look, leveling it with his face.

“Tsuzuki! What are you doing?” Hisoka cried with alarm, rushing towards him and knocking the sharp, triangular shard from his shaking fingers, which were stained with blood.

Tsuzuki wielded upon him with a look of fury, that quickly faded as he focused upon the boy's face, dissolving into one of wrenching sorrow. He fell to his knees with a pitiful sob.

“It's getting harder to control,” Tsuzuki moaned. “It's getting to where it takes all I have. What's happening to me?”

Hisoka sank down beside him, taking his injured hand and inspecting the damage, blocking his mind from the assault of emotions in the air the best he could with the mental exercises Konoe had taught him with while trying to train him in basic fudu magic.

“Who were you talking to Tsuzuki?” Hisoka asked softly, using the tail of his shirt to wipe away the blood.

“Myself,” Tsuzuki said, with a dazed expression. “He says he is me.”

Hisoka studied his face, about to respond, when Watari came into the room, observing the scene with a calm, if saddened look.

“Let me see,” Watari said, crouching beside Hisoka and taking Tsuzuki's hand from him. He flinched slightly at the deep gash running from his index finger to the middle of his palm.

“That's quite a boo-boo you've given yourself big fella,” Watari said, and looked back to where Hy stood with a shocked expression in the doorway. “Hy, be a dear and fetch my bag, please.”


When Watari had finished patching up Tsuzuki's hand, and coaxing the shaken man to lie down, Hisoka settled in beside him, unsure of how to best handle the situation.

He'd become much better at handling emotional scenes since he'd met his turbulent partner, had learned to hold him when he cried and to become useful in soothing him even if he didn't know what to say, but it was still difficult for him to handle. To Hisoka, the only truly safe emotion had always been anger, which he found a most useful device in driving attention away from the vulnerability of other, more personal feelings. It was the emotion he found easiest to handle in others as well, having grown accustomed to it in the toxic environment of his childhood.

It had seemed so foreign and frightening to him when he had met Tsuzuki, Hisoka thought, as he watched the other man stare blankly at the ceiling, his breathing only shortly having returned to normal. He was such an open person emotionally in many ways, at least on the surface. Hisoka had been unnerved from day one by the waves of boundless, childish joy the man projected from the simplest pleasures, like food and drink, the silly jokes he shared with Watari and the girls, and, Hisoka blushed to recall, observing what he perceived as beauty. It had come as no small shock to his system when one of the first distinct thoughts he had read from the other man was that he thought his new partner was beautiful.

Then there had been Tsuzuki's guilt and sorrow from a job he was reluctant to do. Hisoka had come to realize over the years that Tsuzuki's sloth and slacker attitude was not entirely from an unconscious personality trait. It was also steeped heavily in a resentment for the duties it was his obligation to fulfill, and hampered by a constant feeling of hopelessness that he was not always adept in hiding. The times Hisoka had tapped into that current in his partner's most troubled moments, it had been overwhelming to the point where he wanted to run away from him, to where he'd never have to experience such discomfort and confusion again. But somehow, with Tsuzuki, that had never been an option for Hisoka. Tsuzuki was the first person who had ever really needed him, and it filled him with an awe that overcame his initial envy of the other man's power. He still wanted to be Tsuzuki's equal, but his motives had become more in wanting to help his partner shoulder the load than in simply besting him, like it had been in the beginning.

The emotion from Tsuzuki that had been the strongest and most confusing for the lonely boy who had died early and unmourned by his own family, had been the amethyst eyed man's capacity to love. After having gone through a life where the people who should have loved him unconditionally didn't, here was a stranger, a man he was openly hostile to and didn't even want to be associated with, accepting him with open arms and instant affection. It positively infuriated him. But mostly, it scared him.

It had taken almost losing him, and momentarily pondering what this new life would be like without this love, to make him fully appreciate how he had taken it for granted. Even in this realm of existence, there was the possibility of mortality, and the realization forced the emotionally stunted young man to be honest with himself, even if it had taken nearly another year for him to be so with Tsuzuki.

But even with that flood gate opened, and Hisoka feeling more comfortable with his own and the emotions of others than he'd ever dreamed possible, he still fell back upon the comfort of anger sometimes in order to deal with things.

He fought his anger and frustration as he shifted, facing away from Tsuzuki on the bed, feeling helpless, a feeling he loathed more than any other. Forces he didn't understand seemed to be taking over his and Tsuzuki's life, and his lover's insistence upon secrecy was doing nothing to help the situation.

“I'm sorry, Hisoka,” Tsuzuki murmured softly behind him, as if reading his thoughts, and winding his arms around him. They were the first words he'd spoken since Watari entered the room, having seemed in an almost hypnotic state.

“You said you would never try to hurt yourself again,” Hisoka said accusingly, though his anger had finally started to dissipate. “You promised.”

“I know, baby. I'm sorry,” Tsuzuki said, kissing the back of his neck.

“This -- this thing I've been seeing -- it's apart of you?” Hisoka asked. He felt Tsuzuki stiffen slightly, and held his breath.

“Yes, I think so,” Tsuzuki said after a long moment.

“Why was it trying to hurt you?” Hisoka asked. Tsuzuki pulled him in tighter to him and sighed.

“It wasn't. I thought maybe I could destroy it --” Tsuzuki began.

“By mutilating yourself again?” Hisoka asked incredulously, rolling over to face him. “Tsuzuki, you know that --”

“I'll just heal? Is that what you were going to say?” Tsuzuki asked, an unfamiliar edge to his voice that made Hisoka want to pull away. “It didn't work when I was alive, either. Do you ever wonder why that is?”

Hisoka was about to respond, when the sound of Watari shifting in his sleep from the next bed seemed to have an affect upon Tsuzuki, who shook his head as if to clear it. Tsuzuki blinked sleepily, nuzzling into his pillow.

“I'm feeling really drained, Hisoka. Can we talk tomorrow?” Tsuzuki said with a yawn.

“Sure, Tsuzuki,” Hisoka whispered, feeling uneasy.

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