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.

AN: First off, yes, this took way too damn long to finish. Memo to self: never save on a floppy disk. Also, I did say there would be lemon, but I just couldn't get in the mood to write it. Please don't hate me!! Ahem, anyway, on with the fic!

After several minutes of convincing Fuzen that he was not going to be traumatized for life, Ayumu met his fellow shinigami, now fully clothed, outside the apartment door. Nervous smiles and awkward goodbyes were all the group could manage; all but a very sulky Hisoka, who made it quite clear that he wanted nothing more than to get the hell away from this place.

Before joining his comrades in their descent down the decrepit staircase, Ayumu posed one final question to his friend.

"So, what did happen to Doc?"

"Beats the hell outta me," the faux red-head shrugged, "As far as I know, Durjie saw him last."


They paraded drunkenly down the streets for the next half hour, and Hisoka was getting desperate. He was unusually hungry, his bladder was on the verge of exploding---

"In th' lan' of twiiiliiight unnnderrr th' moooon, weee daaanth fooor th' idioooots!"

---and his partner and Kinoko were making complete asses of themselves. They had belted out everything from "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" to "Todokanai Ai to Shitteita no ni Osae Kirezuni Aishitsuzuketa" with senses of pitch that made stray animals wail, accompanied by embarrassingly clumsy attempts at dancing. For the morepart, the empath staggered a few feet ahead of the moronic pair, pretending he didn't know them.

Tsuzuki, however, did not take kindly to being ignored, glomping onto the boy and nearly earning both of them a closeup with the sidewalk, slurring, "C'mon Thokaaa, thtop bein' shyyy!" The older man, accompanied by a contagiously giggly Kinoko, then began howling out a new tune,

"Annnta nyaaa *chuckle* moootta inaaaai!"


Oh dear God; they were singing Morning Musume. He needed to find a hotel, now. Fortunately for the humiliated blonde, a few buildings up the street, on their left, was an enormous white building and a bright illuminated sign which read, "Kagoshima Tokyu Hotel." It looked a bit pricey for their budget, but Tatsumi could shove whatever complaints he'd have later; Hisoka's top priority was getting these idiots out of public view as soon as possible. "Oi, Tsuzuki," he loudly started.

"Niphhhon no miiira- huh?" The tonedeaf brunette paused mid-melody.

"We could stay there," the younger partner suggested, pointing to the nearby hotel.

"Anoou... takai o mirun'da...(Umm... it looks expensive...)"

"But they have good room service," Ayumu was quick to point out.

Before they knew it, Hisoka and the stoner were teleported into the lobby.


"Baka," the blonde boy hissed, "what the hell were you thinking?! Or were you thinking at all?!" Trying to play peacemaker, Kinoko mended, "Aww, come on... doesn't seem like anyone noticed." Seeing no point in further debate, Hisoka relented; he didn't have the energy to argue anyway. Instead, he took a quick glimpse at their surroundings. Cream-colored walls were complimented by a carpet striped in black, light blue, and white, a variety of gentle ceiling fixtures silently boasting the hotel's pristine condition. It wasn't a five-star, but they were definitely in for a second death when Tatsumi saw the bill; he tried not to snicker at the mental image of JuOhCho's notorious secretary banging his head into a wall. The oddest things seemed funny at the moment...

It was decided that the raven-haired man would book their rooms, seeing as Hisoka appeared too young to take seriously and Tsuzuki was too enebriated to present himself properly. As soon as their coworker was out of hearing range, Tsuzuki pondered aloud, "Wonder why he workth in Area 6 if he'th from 'round here..." It was a good question; just why was Kinoko working in the Kansai office if he died in Kyushu? He'd have to ask him one of these days...

"Back," said druggie chirped, thoroughly surprising his peers, twirling a set of keys on his forefinger.

"Th-that was fast," the teen sputtered, to which Ayumu answered, "Name dropping gets you everywhere," and winked, handing one of the keys to the startled empath. "Both rooms are on the eighth floor; let's get some sleep."

As they headed off in the direction of the elevator, earthen brown eyes paralyzed their host's body as they viewed a scene most strange. A graying, clean-cut businessman was being approached by... Gods, this woman was beautiful! Sleak, shining, midnight hair flowed just past her slender waist, complimenting perfect almond skin and a halter-necked crimson evening dress that flattered her every curve, the calves of her shapely legs well-formed due to extensive use of the near-dangerously high-heeled stilettos she wore.

She very quickly placed her full, red lips on those of the startled salaryman, and just as hastily removed them. Feeling the stare of one deceased, she turned her gaze upon Kinoko, smirking darkly, before she fled the lobby into a night that now seemed much colder than it previously had...

He shivered as he darted into the elevator, his dumbfounded companions soon following, realizing that which had most caught him off guard, even frightened him: it wasn't just the woman's actions which had been unusual. When her face had turned into the light to view him, not a single beam had reflected in her ebony glare. Her eyes didn't reflect light.

"Y'okay, Kinoko?"

Snapped back into the present, Ayumu half-smiled and somewhat shakily replied, "Yeah, I'm fine, Tsuzuki-san." After pushing the "8" button, Hisoka asked as the doors slid shut, "Kinoko... if you don't mind my asking, why do you work in Area 6? Didn't you live here?"

An eerie silence fell for the first time that day, finally broken when the Kansai shinigami hesitantly replied, "Not originally. I moved here from Osaka when I was ten." Knowing by his wary tone that he didn't wish to go any further into the subject, Hisoka thought it best to leave it at that. The same couldn't be said of Tsuzuki, who despite not being as intoxicated as before, still wasn't using a full deck and pried, "Did your father move here on business?" This obviously rattled the black-maned man, who stuttered in thick Osaka-ben, "N-no... and I'd r-really rather not... t-talk about it..."

The empath now knew that something was seriously wrong; Kinoko's accent almost never slipped into his daily speech and right now, he was drawling.

The elevator doors glided open and the group exited, wishing each other good night as they entered their adjacent rooms.


Having ordered and inhaled at least 17,000 worth in room service, the teen having gone with a healthy helping of tonkotsu while his partner had ingested various forms of sugar and a bottle of sake, the two were now lying lethargically in bed, watching some horror flick that neither of them were particularly interested in. Tsuzuki out of sheer boredom (after all, the movie had a plot), and Hisoka because the effects of the alcohol he'd consumed that night were overpowering those of the weed. His body was readily recalling the fact that they'd been caught in the act before he'd been able to find release.
Absently running his fingers over the elder man's toned abdomen, the boy mumbled into his lover's neck, "Are you even watching this movie, Asato?" Yawning, the brunette tiredly replied, "Maa, it's so boooring... let's see if something else is on."

"Why not just turn it off?"

"'Cause I don't wanna go to sleep yet."

Blazing emerald gems peered into violet orbs, filled with raw need as their host guided his fingers underneath his lover's shirt, traveling upwards at their leisure to brush a nipple. "Who says we'd have to go to sleep?"

Tsuzuki gasped, arching into the touch as he fumbled for the remote, quickly turning the television off, instead opting for something far more interesting.

Hisoka's knees rested beside the taller shinigami's waist as he moved to top him, locking his lips in a fervent kiss, inching the blue shirt up as his delicate hands glided up the man's torso. Tsuzuki was fast to aid him in removing the cloth, moaning as he squirmed under his partner's wandering touches. "Hi...soka..."

Rotating their positions to place himself on top, the brunette removed the teen's own black tee, promptly attacking his lover's neck with heated kisses and nips on the perfect skin, rolling his body against the smaller one beneath him. A desperate groan rumbled out of the boy's throat, followed by a symphony of gasps and whimpers as Tsuzuki's mouth latched onto a hardened nipple.

Letting one hand drift between them and into the boy's black pants, his fingers lightly stroked an already weeping erection as he teased in a deep purr, "Someone's a little eager, ne?" Hisoka rolled the older man onto his back, responding to his challenge in a most unexpected manner, pinning his wrists just above his brown locks. "I'll show you eager, Asato." A delicious shiver shot through Tsuzuki's spine at the aggressive display, a pleading noise fleeing his lips as the younger man growled, "I'm on top tonight."


Kinoko awoke in violent, convulsive tremors, cold sweat only worsening his condition as every involuntary movement reacquainted his exposed torso to the chilled air of his room. Clapping one hand over his mouth, he summoned all the bodily control he could to fling the covers of his bed away and shakily run into the bathroom. He barely made it in time before the contents of his stomach erupted angrily from his mouth, the water in the toilet splashing back up at him from the force of the expulsion. The drops that landed on his face only made his stomach churn more furiously, heightening the urge to vomit, so he held tightly to the sides of the bowl and surrendered his body to the sickness.

Fifteen minutes of non-stop vomiting and dry-heaving passed before he finally felt he could move again. Weakly, he stood and stumbled back to the bed, grappling onto everything from the sink to the nightstand to keep from toppling over along the way. Collapsing atop the mattress, he huddled underneath the blankets in an effort to regain some of his lost body heat, trying to banish the nightmare from his thoughts. His visions had started out well enough; odd, if not a bit unnerving, but strangely appealing. He was back in his apartment in Meifu, and for some reason, Hiroshi was there, giving him his usual lecture about not having to wear a mask around his best friend. No different from many of their previous conversations... at least, until the hippie had put his arms around him in a warm embrace, gently pleading, "Don't hide from me, Ayu... I love you." He'd kissed him then, and the dream had become progressively weirder; not that his body had minded, no, quite the contrary, which thoroughly shocked Kinoko. Sure, he'd never bothered with relationships enough in life to know his sexual orientation, but he'd never thought he was gay... However, he currently found himself wanting to replay that dream in his mind, especially if it dimmed the memory of its successor, a night terror that had plagued him in mind and body.

For three years, that dream had robbed him of sleep, forcing him to relive the night he'd lost everything... lost Mika...

Ayumu and Mika Kinoko were born within moments of each other, and from that day, always shared a special bond. Aside from gender, their appearances were absolutely identical, and one always seemed to know what the other was thinking, doing, or feeling, whether together or apart. They'd also displayed some... unusual talents at a very early age. As toddlers, whenever something they wanted was placed beyond their grasp, they would reach out for it, straining their tiny muscles, and focus intently upon it. Without fail, they always managed to get ahold of whatever that something happened to be. The twins also created the perfect mediumistic force; alone, Mika would see people their parents could not, and her brother would hear them, but when together, they saw and heard as one.

The siblings were inseparable, despite the childish bickering that often took place between them. Neither of them sorrowed, angered, or feared for long, because the other was always there to make things right again. At least, until the night someone had broken into their family's house.

Ten-year-old Ayumu had woken to a booming crash coming from downstairs, as if the front door had been kicked open. Too frightened to move, he'd lain in his bed simply listening as he heard his parents' shrill, panicked voices pleading, begging--


Mama screamed, two more loud popping sounds rang out, and all was silent.

After several minutes had passed, the black-haired boy had risen, soundlessly creeping down the oak staircase, to find his mother and father lying face-up in pools of their own blood. Their bodies illuminated by the dim light down the hallway in the dining room, he'd seen their horror-stricken faces; Papa's now glassy, lifeless eyes wide open, a bullet in his forehead and two in his chest. Just beyond him, Mama's mouth was frozen in an eternal scream, only blood, shattered bones, and mangled tissue where her left eye should have been, the middle of her blue silk nightgown stained deep crimson from the shot she'd received to her stomach.

Doing the best his shaking form could to stifle his sobs, tears flowing uncontrollably down his young face, he'd been paralyzed when he found a pair of startled, dark eyes upon him.

As the tall, stocky man slowly began walking towards him, he'd bolted across the hallway and through the den, nearly tumbling down the stone stairway into the basement, hiding behind the gas furnace. Heavy footsteps thundered towards him, and in that moment, his gift had taken over. A piece of pipe from the furnace suddenly went flying towards the intruder, instantly knocking him unconscious. Taking his chance, Ayumu immediately fled upstairs to wake his sister. If only he'd known that as the gas hissed its way through the basement, their home had become a ticking time bomb.

"Mika! Mika!!" He shook her roughly as his voice cracked, her eyes flying open at the sound of her brother's distress. "What? What's wrong, Ayu," she'd asked, her eyes now mirroring her twin's terrified gaze. "I don't have time to explain, sis, but we need to get outta here!!" As soon as her small feet touched the ground, he grasped her hand and hurriedly lead her down the stairs.

They'd just made it through what was once the front door when Mika's eyes turned back, the sight greeting her forcing out a pained, horrified wail. "Mama," she screamed, running back indoors to kneel at her dead mother's side. Ayumu's gut had wrenched awfully at the sight, and he'd called out to his sibling, "Mika, we have to leave now!! It's not safe here!!"

In the bottom level of the house, the killer regained consciousness, the immense pain in his head radiating throughout his body, an ailment he thought could be eased with a cigarette.

"But," Mika choked between sobs, "but Mama..."

"It's too--"

A hellish explosion hurtled Ayumu into the street as their house quickly started to blaze, the area directly above the basement having already caught fire. Stunned only momentarily, he pushed his fresh scrapes and cuts into the back of his mind, charging into the inferno, shouting his sister's name.

He didn't have to go far before he found her; her legs pinned underneath a huge slab of what was once the den wall topped with countless other forms of debris, struggling frantically to escape. "Nii-san!! Nii-san, help me!!" She only addressed him as 'older brother' when frightened, and he could feel every ounce of her fear when he looked into her earthen eyes... his eyes. Trying to keep a level head, Ayumu ordered with as much composure as his shaking voice could manage, "I know you're scared, but you have to calm down! We won't get anywhere if we stay like this!" Twining his fingers with those of her outstretched hand, he said, "We can get this off of you if we both focus hard enough. I need your help..." Eyes locked, they put every ounce of energy they had into removing the obstacle crushing her already broken legs. Slowly, the fragment of the wall began to rise, higher, almost high enough...

He felt someone grab him from behind, a deep voice distorted by a mask saying, "Don't worry, son, we're here to help." He hadn't even noticed the sirens, but now heard them blaring outside as he was being dragged away, the wall fragment again slamming onto Mika's legs with a sickening crunch from beneath. "Let go," he yelled furiously, squirming and kicking, "let go of me, dammit!! She needs me!! My sister's still in there, you bastard!! LET GO!!!" Finally freeing himself, he sped back towards their house, only to hault dead in his tracks just in front of the entrance. The fire had spread. Her blistering hand still stretched towards him, her hair had been dissolved by the flames, her bare scalp and face peeling away in the intense heat. The stench of burning flesh reached his nose, turning his stomach as he stared in unmatched horror, watched her shriek and howl and writhe in agony as her skin sizzled and crackled. She looked him straight in the eyes, pleading as she screamed.

He ran.

Yes, he ran away from his best friend, his partner in mischief, his comforter, and the only person in the world he thought he'd die for. He'd been horrified at the sight of her burning alive, as any child would have been. But she was his twin! How could he have been afraid of his own sister, his very reflection, fleeing her presence as if some grotesque beast, leaving her to die? How could he live with that?

Frankly, he couldn't.

He'd left Osaka, eventually drifting his way to Kagoshima, living off of waste he found in garbage bins until he found a job and scraped up enough money to get an apartment. He made the occasional acquaintance here and there, but the only true friend he'd had then, one he'd known since kindergarten, was Hiroshi, who visited every other day. Every time, he'd reason, "I just wanna make sure you're okay," and every time, Ayumu would lie and tell him, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Hiroshi, however, knew differently. Like most kids, they'd played with matches when they were younger. Nowadays, his friend wouldn't do as much as touch a match, jumping back five feet every time someone flicked a lighter. The dark circles under Ayu's eyes told him just how little he slept; he never saw him doze for more than an hour or two anymore. There was also his weight to consider... his eyes now sunk into his skull, his countenance sickly and skinny, joints jutting out far more than they used to...

At first glance, anyone who viewed the furnishings in Ayumu's apartment would have thought he was doing well for himself. A sofa sat a few feet away from a recliner, both facing the latest high-definition television set, a state-of-the-art flat-screen computer with a broadband internet connection resting on a metal desk nearby. The table and chairs in the dining room were nothing terribly fancy, but certainly not cheap either, the same being said of the tableware. In his bedroom was a smaller television set with a number of video game systems, all set in front of a king-sized waterbed.

Hiroshi was awestruck when he discovered how he had the money for such luxuries: Ayumu spent almost nothing on food.

Kinoko bitterly remembered when a bee had stung him on his shoulderblade, and the hippie had insisted on putting tobacco on the wound (which, by the way, really does work), which involved him taking his shirt off. The moment his rail-thin arms and protruding ribs were exposed, his long-time friend had nearly broken down into tears. Hiroshi had known that the emaciated boy before him couldn't weigh more than eighty pounds, despite being nearly thirteen years old and standing at 5'8".

"When's the last time you ate anything," he'd asked, his voice almost too slight to be heard. Trying to make light of the subject, Ayu had responded half-jokingly,

"There's no point in eating all the time when it all comes back up later."

"Just answer the damn question," Hiroshi had snapped, which was most uncharacteristic for him. His voice hushed with shame, the black-haired boy answered,

"...last Thursday."

"You haven't eaten in over a week?!"

"What's the point if I can't keep it down?!" Ayumu had fallen to his knees, trembling, trying to swallow his tears back as he revealed, "I relive that night every time I fall asleep... when I wake up, I can still smell it... smell her burning..." Hiroshi's eyes had overflowed with sadness, mingled with something Ayu had never been able to identify, and took a place on the floor beside his long-time friend, holding him. "It's okay," he'd whispered, "just let it all out. I'm not leaving any time soon." They'd stayed like that for the next hour and a half, Kinoko's too-thin frame wracking in sobs as if he would shatter, Hiroshi there to soothe him and make sure he didn't.

It was then that the hazel-eyed youth had brought up the fact that he'd started smoking pot; that he didn't dream when he went to bed stoned. Ayumu had decided he'd give it a try, so they'd held an all-night smoke-a-thon for his thirteenth birthday. When he'd retired to his bed at ten o'clock the next morning, he'd crashed for the next fifteen hours, and hadn't dreamt even once. He'd begun smoking every night; he slept well, and within a few months had even reached a healthy weight, becoming lean as opposed to skinny, gaining six more inches in height before he stopped growing.

'And the rest is history,' he thought, ending his stream of recollection. The last memory to float through his mind was the mahogany-haired man's morose face when he and his fellow shinigami had left In'you, sorrow and even regret deeply engrained upon his normally mellow and complacent features. The mental image alone pulled at his heart terribly, now feeling his own sense of regret at not being more open with him. 'He was always there when I needed him, wasn't he? Whether I wanted him to be or not...' Ayumu was consumed by an aching emptiness by the lack of the man's presence, realizing just how sorely he missed him.

"Meh, I don't need to worry about that right now," the brown-eyed man mumbled, dismissing his melancholy and reaching into the nightstand's drawer to retrieve his mp3 player; music always helped. Setting the earpieces in place, he thumbed the "on" button, bringing it to life as he scrolled through the artist list. Finally deciding on Nirvana, he began lightly bobbing his head to the beat as the song "Lithium" filled his range of sound, even quietly singing along once it reached the chorus. The nightmare at last starting to fade throughout the second verse, his voice became only slightly louder as he chanted,

"I like it, I'm not gonna crack
I miss you, I'm not gonna crack
I love you, I'm not gonna crack
I killed you, I'm no-- huh?"

'It's never screwed up like this before,' he thought as the device repeated the line, "-I killed you - I killed you-"

Pressing the pause button, he attempted to go back to the artist list only to find that the chilling message continued to play.

He tried again, twice, three times, to no avail, and yanked the pieces out of his ears, violently hurling the mp3 player to the floor. His tremors returned full force as the volume increased to an impossible level, shrieking,


The floorboards beneath the carpet groaned under an oppressive weight that couldn't be seen, only felt, as every shadow in the room gathered into the corner nearest his bed. "Nii-san..." A whining wheeze was all it really was, barely noticeable above the shadows' constant, countless whispers of the word. Bolting from the bed, he sped towards the door, struggling in vain to flip on the main light switch. "What the hell," raw fear overpowering his shrill voice, "why the fuck won't it move??"

"Why are you scared of me, nii-san," the voice rattled from behind him, "You still love me... don't you?"

He was shoved against the wall before his hand even touched the doorknob, bony fingers with fragments of charred flesh still clinging to them clenching his throat as he was brought face to face with his assailant, that putrid smell overtaking his nostrils once again. Something between a rasp and a shriek escaped scorched windpipes as it raged, "Why did you leave me??"

'God, where are her eyes, I can't see her eyes--'

The demon continued to howl hoarsely as it bashed his head ruthlessly against the wall, tightening its chokehold, "Why did you let me die?? How could you just watch me burn like that??'

'This isn't happening, this isn't Mika, it can't be--'

He began to succumb to the pain, his vision fading just as the door swung open, a wave of light dispersing the darkness of the room. "Are you all right," he barely heard Tsuzuki ask as he dropped to the ground, bringing his knees to his chest as he silently sobbed, his trembling beyond all hope of control. Somehow, through the ringing in his ears, he heard Kurt Kobain's ragged voice chanting, "I'm not gonna crack..."

Both Tsuzuki and his partner stared, dumbstruck and clueless as to what to say or do to help him.

My wasp in a jar

AN: Phew! Okay, there's the first (but certainly not the worst) of the mind-fuckage. I know this wasn't as good as it could have been, but feedback will help me improve!

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