The Kiss of Madraykin

BY : The Drowess Nione Ithiliel
Category: Descendents of Darkness/Yami No Matsuei > General
Dragon prints: 1218
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.

They sat on cheap, metal fold-up chairs in the darkened room as the projector began to play slides of the Muraki case. "As you can see," Watari began, "our er... victim has been savagely tortured and murdered. You have to give the killer some points for originality with his display of the body--"


"Ahem; sorry, Chief... anyway, the 'figure eight' created by the intestines was a representation of what is often called 'the Witch's knot,' symbolizing eternity and unification." A close-up of the doctor's forehead appeared as the scientist continued, "The character seen here is a Norse rune called 'hagalaz,' which can have several interpretations in readings; the one that most likely applies here is a 'karmic lesson,' although 'destruction' seems rather apt as well..."

Many heads, including Hisoka's, turned aside in disgust as the next slide showed Muraki's open chest cavity; this was the same body that had hovered over his own, pinning him down underneath a sakura tree, now with the added displeasure of being viciously mangled--

The empath's memories were mercifully interrupted when Tsuzuki, noting his unease, entwined their fingers in a comforting gesture, offering him a warm smile that couldn't be seen, but was very much felt and appreciated. The boy lightly gripped his partner's hand, silently showing his gratitude while Watari informed, "The removal of the heart would at first seem metaphorical in nature. However, it's reoccurance in all of the 'Twisted Justice' serial homicides also links it to an ancient demonic custom that is used not only to gain power, but to claim souls. If we are dealing with a non-human entity, it's likely he's been around for quite a while, and is possibly just as powerful as he is old."

'That would make sense,' Tsuzuki mused, 'especially since he disposed of someone like Muraki so easily...' He passed a glance towards Kinoko, who was all but gawking at the pictures in a state of disbelief and... recognition?? "Um... hey, 'Taka," the newbie started, the amber-eyed shinigami pausing for a brief moment before asking, "Yeah? What's up, Ayu?"

"I-I think," the kid stammered, "...I'm pretty sure that's Doc."

All eyes turned on him at this revelation; no one had as much as mentioned the man's name to him, so there was no way he could have known Muraki was a doctor. Watari's voice cracked with shock as he half-shouted, "You knew him?!"

"Not very well," Ayumu confessed, "but some buddies of mine used to get dope from him and another guy who calls himself 'Durjaya.' He was supposed to show up with two kilos of opium about a week before I died; we thought he stood us up." His gaze lowered to the floor as he remarked, "Guess that wasn't the case, huh?"

"No, I... guess not..." The stunned scientist inquired further, somewhat incredulously, "Listen, you're absolutely sure that's him? One hundred percent?"

"Yeah," his new partner replied, "his right eye... when he used to show up at my dealer's place, all dressed in white with that creepy eye staring at me, it reminded me of a 'Doctor Death' movie I watched once; that was half the reason we called him 'Doc.' Last time I saw him was a couple months before he was supposed to deliver the goods, but I'm pretty sure he still went to Fuzen's a few times afterwards."

An unsettling silence hung thick in the air; all this time he'd been right under their noses, hardly even bothering to hide, and they'd completely overlooked him.

"Kinoko-san," the Chief spoke up, "Where can we find Fuzen? We'll need to speak to him; if he wasn't the last person to see the victim alive, he might know who was."

"I'd better go talk to him myself," Ayumu suggested. "He won't spill to strangers, especially if he thinks you're cops."

Unable to argue with a valid point and not wanting to lose a potentially valuable witness, Konoe sighed, "Very well, but I want Tsuzuki and Kurosaki to go with you just in case."

"'Kay," came the nonchalant response. Motioning towards the two shinigami in the back, he jubilantly called, "Gentlemen, let's get moving! We gotta dress you guys up for the part!" Without another word, he hurriedly ushered the two men out the door.


They'd been lead to a head shop / clothing store called, "In'you" in the Harajuku area of Tokyo, their every move followed by the apathetic stares of the swarms of gothic youth overrunning the place. "Don't worry," Ayumu reassured happily, "The owner and I are good pals; he even gives me a 40% discount every time I shop there! Of course," he nervously chuckled, scratching the back of his head, "the fact that I smoked him out every time I had weed might have something to do with that..."

It was a small, out-of-the-way establishment, the once-white exterior having faded to a dingy shade of yellow over the years, the brick-red shingles in none-too-good of shape. Hisoka expected to walk into something resembling the pawn shops he'd seen in movies: run-down and filthy with a grubby, shady slimeball glaring suspiciously at them from behind a netted metal window.

He was blown away by what he did see.

What looked like a giant, sun-shaped lava lamp hung from the bold orange ceiling, casting wavering rays of light on walls covered in a psychedelic rainbow design. A mellow, but loud door bell produced a man from behind a veil of green wooden beads; far unlike what the empath had imagined, the owner grew his waist-long mahogany hair in unruly dredlocks, a thick goatee covering his chin, sporting baggy camouflage pants and a matching t-shirt. Hazel eyes lit up at the sight of his old friend, a broad, delighted smile forming as he cried, "Ayumu!!"

Kinoko responded with a grin of his own, "How's it going, Hiroshi?"

"Holy fuck, man! It's been, like, forever!" He rushed over to the new shinigami, slapping him playfully on the shoulder as he light-heartedly scolded, "Two weeks and not so much as a phone call to your best buddy? Had me worried, you little shit!"

"Ah, come on, dude," the brown-eyed man returned, "things have been a little crazy as of late. You know how that goes."

"Sure as hell do. You hear about how Fukushima turned C.I.?"

"No way!!! Fukushima??!"

Tsuzuki and Hisoka stared dumbfoundedly as the men continued their conversation, neither being well-versed in stoner jargon. "I'm... going to start looking at clothes..." the blonde finally managed, starting towards the Young Adult section. His lover quickly followed, shouting merrily, "Ooooh, I wanna help!"


"Why does everything here have to be so damn loose-fitting?!" The boy was quickly becoming frustrated with his options; he'd finally found a pair of pants that fit perfectly around his waist, only to discover that his hips were the only place on his body where they weren't twice his size.

His partner laughed heartily at the scene before him, linking his arms around the teen's shoulders, resting his chin in the nape of the slender neck, whispering erotically, "They have their advantages," before placing a firm kiss on the tingling skin. Hisoka spun around, breaking free from the brunette's hold, his unconvincing glare lightly glazed with want. Tsuzuki beamed victoriously; 'Soka-chan was so easy to excite...

After an hour of searching and shoving a certain perverted baka out of his dressing room, the blonde finally settled on the black chain-adorned pants he'd found before, paired with a huge (for him, anyway) tee of the same color that stated in red scraggly letters, "I love poetry, long walks on the beach, and poking dead things with a stick." His partner, on the other hand, had chosen navy-blue multi-pocketed slacks matched by a long, sky-colored top with a white peace sign in the middle. The smaller shinigami hadn't felt the need for a change of shoes, while Tsuzuki had opted for a switch to open-toed dark purple sandals.

"So," Kinoko asked, "are we all set up?"

The two men nodded, more than ready to get this ordeal over with; they'd had other plans as to how to spend their evening.

"Okay, buddy, what're we lookin' at price-wise," the pothead inquired of Hiroshi, who stood morosely nearby.

"Nothing," was the hippie's reply. "This one's on me."

"WHAT?!" For a moment, Hisoka was certain the stoner was going to try literally slapping some sense into the man.

"You can't afford to do that, fucktard!!"

"I can," Hiroshi responded with a sad smile, "for an old friend."

Their gazes lingered on each other for a small eternity as the shinigami trio headed towards the door. Stormy hazel eyes tried and failed miserably to hide their owner's sorrow as he watched Ayumu leave. "Like I said before," he called in barely-disguised anguish, "don't be a stranger." A silent nod was the only answer he received as the store was once more empty.


Supposing that his fellow angels of death had commenced their search for a change of apparel, Ayumu fell into his old routine, taking Hiroshi through the veil of beads to smoke a bowl in the back room. They plopped into their respective chairs, the hippie preferring his lavender shag recliner whilst his childhood pal took the lime-green plush seat and pulled out Hina, his vibrant yellow-orange glass pipe (yes, many potheads do name their smoking devices). Packing in as much as he could, Kinoko handed the piece to the mahogany-haired man, as he always did, to offer him the green hit.

Hiroshi grinned warmly, gladly receiving the gift as he lit up, inhaling deeply, clearing the chamber before returning it. When the smoke became too much to handle, he finally exhaled, doing all he could not to cough; that kid always got the good shit.

"So," he began, "what kinda crazy things have been keepin' you away?"

"Work," Ayumu informed, "I got a job now."

"Sweet deal! About damn time, too," the hippie congratulated, slapping him on the back, earning a series of harsh coughs. "Oh-- sorry, dude!"

His earthen-eyed friend merely shrugged, chuckling through ragged breaths as thick smoke poured out of his mouth and nose, letting him know that he wasn't upset. Hiroshi's demeanor suddenly turned melancholy after taking his hit, turning to look at Kinoko as he said quietly, "I heard a funny rumor at about that time... two weeks ago..."

The pot fiend returned his stare, inquiring, "Yeah? What's that?"

"I heard you died."

The raven-haired man nearly dropped the pipe in his hands, shakily fumbling with the lighter as he rapidly shifted his gaze away. After his turn had passed, he passed the piece back to his suddenly silent friend, his own voice barely audible as he answered, "I'm not gonna lie to you... I did die."

In an effort to lighten the mood, Hiroshi teased, "But not even death could keep you from ganja, huh?" Ayumu might have even laughed a little if not for the pain dripping from every word like the tears now creating temporary dark stains in the bright red carpet; stains that looked eerily like blood.

"Listen... I need to go. We're here to look into an unnatural death." He nearly stumbled back down as he rose to stand, caught unaware in a tight embrace as the older man sobbed brokenly into his shoulder. "Just," he choked, "don't be a stranger, okay? You're all I've got... that I've ever had..." Kinoko held closer to the only true friend he'd ever known, streams of his own streaking his tan cheeks. "Yakusoku," was his whispered reply, "yakusoku..."

~*End Flashback*~

"Kinoko-san," Hisoka asked, "are you all right?"

Ayumu forced a small smile as he said, "No, but don't worry about it. I'll be fine in due time. For now, let's get over to Fuzen's."

AN: Phew! Here it is! The next chapter will contain yaoi!

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