[Fanfiction] Sakuran - Part Two: Advent

[shiraume_fic]

TITLE: Sakuran
CHAPTER: 2/6
AUTHOR: Shiraume
RATING: PG-13 (Angst/Romance)
SPOILERS: Entire anime season and manga storyline up to volume 9.
WARNINGS: Possible squick pairing.
PAIRING: Muraki + Hisoka.
DISCLAIMER: Nothing is mine, except the insanity.



Before I go any further, I must mention that the idea of young Muraki becoming shinigami was used first in RubyD's fanfiction, "Searching for Eden". The entirety of this fanfiction was written from February 3, 2003 to April 26, 2003, but I had not read "Searching for Eden" when I was writing this.

This chapter is dedicated to Jehzavere, my beta, my inspiration, and my dearest friend.

SAKURAN

by Shiraume

PART TWO: Advent

It was raining in Nagasaki.

Hisoka wandered down the dock, where he had accepted Tsuzuki as a partner for the first time after the Nagasaki vampire case. It was also the place he had met Muraki for the first time in three years. Actually, those things had not happened, had they? At least not the way he remembered them. In fact, he was beginning to obtain a new set of memories in addition to the old, though his original recollection of the events did not change or disappear. His mind recalled the original memories as the default, however, and it usually took him few minutes to sort out which memories were relevant to this changed, familiarly strange world.

He remembered, in the new set of the memories of Nagasaki, his encounter with Muraki or whoever his killer was did not happen. Tsuzuki had never found out what had happened to him, beyond that he was killed by a curse. Yet...it left Hisoka with mixed feelings. The last thing he wanted was other people finding out about his past, but the fact the old Tsuzuki knew about it had helped him more than he had admitted to himself. The current Tsuzuki had fewer reasons to play the mother hen and hover over him constantly like an overprotective shadow. That intrusiveness was gone.

But so was a certain closeness.

Kyoto incident had never happened. He had never thrown himself into the raging fire, into Tsuzuki's shaking arms, to declare just how much Tsuzuki meant to him. Tsuzuki did not know, and probably never would, but Hisoka did. And he could not forget even if he wanted to.

Clutching the rails over the pier convulsively, Hisoka forced his thoughts to more recent events.

It had been just over two weeks since the teenaged Muraki came to Kyushu. The days had passed mostly with Hisoka avoiding Muraki thoroughly and meticulously. Nevertheless, being so physically near Muraki had managed to unnerve and rattle him thoroughly. If he did not sort himself out soon, another scene would inevitably follow, one possibly worse than the last. However, so much as a glimpse of Muraki tended to stop any conducive train of thought altogether, so he had broken Meifuu's laws for the first time since the Nagasaki case to come to Earth alone.

Hisoka took a deep breath. If nothing else, for his own sanity, he had to figure out how he was going to deal with Muraki. This Muraki definitely acted differently from the adult version that he knew. He was polite and shy and nice to everyone. Always mild-mannered and smiling, invariably kind with a subtle undercurrent of pain and loneliness, he reminded Hisoka too much of Tsuzuki. Yes, the young Muraki felt differently. Hell, the fact he could actually feel what this Muraki felt all the time was different enough.

Could this new Muraki be truly different?

The teenager version of Muraki was serious, collected, and meticulous. He was most definitely a perfectionist, but also courteous and knowledgeable. Considerate and sensitive to others' feelings, the only traits that the younger Muraki apparently shared with the older one were the controlled personality and the deep interest in medicine. There was nothing false or shady about Muraki at all as far as he could sense. From his furtive observations over the last few days, he could find no traces of darkness or danger from Muraki and it was almost...disappointing, in a way. It gave him less reason to hate the man, after all.

Besides, the boy was so unfailingly polite that Hisoka had found himself tiptoeing around Muraki automatically out of sheer habit. It was bad enough feeling the constant confusion all around the cramped office all the time. Setting off another long chain of confusion and vague hurt in Muraki like the first day, and getting himself dragged along for the ride, was decidedly unpleasant.

If Hisoka was honest with himself, he could also admit another reason: Muraki was too much like Tsuzuki, with additional, youthful clarity that was so much like...

Like Tsubaki-hime.

Hisoka lowered his head until his forehead banged lightly against the railing that supported most of his weight.

The closeness he had felt between Tsuzuki and himself after the Kyoto incident, in retrospect, had started long before, in Nagasaki. Tsuzuki had been the only other person who knew everything about his past save Muraki, and while it troubled him it had also been easier in a way. While Hisoka had not been happy that Tsuzuki knew, he could always trust Tsuzuki to understand, like during their case on Queen Camellia. Hisoka did not bother trying to convince himself that he did not miss the intimate and special connection he had once shared with Tsuzuki. But the closeness had come from knowledge; Tsuzuki had known his past with Muraki since the Nagasaki incident. He had known about the murder of Tsubaki-hime at Queen Camellia. And Hisoka had known the truest affection which made him willing to jump into the deadly fire of Touda at Kyoto. But none of those had happened, as far as Tsuzuki was concerned, and Tsuzuki did not know they could easily have, had the situation been just a little bit different.

Everything came at a price. Special things came at an especially high price. And he had lost a very special something even before he realized he had it.

Hisoka sighed.

"Kurosaki-san?"

The tentative voice was right next to his ear, and Hisoka jumped. Snapping his head up, he realized that the raindrops were no longer falling on him. In fact, the rain had not been falling on his head for the past couple minutes or so.

"Mu...Muraki!"

Muraki flinched inwardly at the reflexive hostility, but did not step away, still holding the umbrella to shield both of them from rain.

"I'm really sorry. I'll leave if -"

"Muraki-san," Hisoka cut sharply, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, "it's all right. You just startled me."

"Oh," Muraki said faintly. The older shinigami inwardly chided himself. Why was it that he felt so ill at ease whenever he was around Hisoka? Hisoka was not the first, not even the hundredth to treat him as if he was below notice. Hadn't his own father looked at him exactly like that? Whatever Hisoka's reasons to dislike him, he was old enough and certainly experienced enough to know some people just did not get along with him. But Hisoka seemed to harbor an uncommonly deep-seated distrust and severe dislike towards him. They had known each other for a total of two weeks, and he was positive they had never met before. So why did Hisoka dislike him so much?

And why did it matter to him?

"Here," Muraki offered the handle of the umbrella. Hisoka gave him a mildly questioning look, the discomfort thinly veiled. Managing a wan smile, the older shinigami gently pressed the umbrella into the other's hand. "You'll get sick if you stand in the rain like this."

Before Hisoka could think of an answer, Muraki took a step back, into the rain.

"Wa...wait."

"Kurosaki-san," the word came out with a sigh. "I don't know why you don't like me, but I do know that you don't want me around. I am sorry I bothered you."

Hisoka winced. The current Muraki reminded him too much of Tsuzuki in Kyoto of his memories, walking away from him with thinly veiled hurt, making him feel useless and vaguely guilty. Whatever shot either of them had at this second chance, as Tsubaki-hime called it, if he let Muraki go now, he knew with certainty that the chance would be lost. And all Tsubaki-hime had hoped for both of them...

"Muraki-san, wait."

...Her hopes would be lost, too.

"I'm sorry," Hisoka said quietly, sincerely.

The pale face half-turned, and Hisoka waited, gathering his thoughts as Muraki turned around completely to face him.

"What?" It seemed that he had taken the ever-controlled Muraki off guard.

"I know I have been rude. I apologize."

"You haven't been rude, Kurosaki-san. I just wish..." Muraki trailed off.

"What?" The question was not unkind, asked with a rare honesty that reminded Muraki of Oriya from a long time ago. So his answer, in turn, was just as honest.

"I wish I knew why you don't like me."

Hisoka closed his eyes with a sigh, taking a step back. The confused hurt was so genuine. This Muraki was not the Muraki he knew. This was someone else, someone Muraki should have been. This was the Muraki whom Tsubaki-hime had seen through the layers of evil and emptiness and loved with all her heart and soul.

For her sake, if for nothing else, he knew he had to give Muraki a chance.

"All right. I owe you an explanation."

"Actually..."

"What?" The question came out sounding defensive, but Muraki did not seem to mind.

"Why don't we at least find some dry place?"

Hisoka stared at the other shinigami for a full minute. The deadpan was too reminiscent of the old Muraki, but he was almost amused at it. Very disturbing, if he thought about it.

"Whatever you say, sensei," the green-eyed boy muttered, turning to lead the way.

"What?"

"Nothing." Seeing the skeptical look, Hisoka placed more emphasis on his words. "It's nothing. Really. What are you doing here, anyway? You shouldn't be on Earth alone."

"A favor from someone," Muraki answered curtly, and Hisoka, noting the finality in his tone, did not press. Besides, he was in no position to call Muraki on the violation of the rule. Soon they arrived at a cafe, the same one Hisoka had used as a rendezvous point with Tsuzuki while working on the vampire case.

"Are you familiar with this place?" Muraki asked, looking around.

"No. I worked on a case here, though." Hisoka was trying to keep his answer as straightforward yet unrevealing as possible. That case was still a bit of a sensitive memory for him.

"Oh."

"It was my first case, with Tsuzuki. We used this cafe as our meeting place." Hisoka really did not want to think about that too much, lest he kept remembering what he almost had with Tsuzuki... This was neither the time nor the place. When they picked out a table near the window and sat down, the waitress gave both of them a worried look.

"Are you two all right? Shall I get towels for you?"

"Yes, please. We would appreciate it very much," Muraki answered politely and the waitress flashed him a smile, took down the orders, and hurried away. Scarcely two minutes later, they were toweling their hair dry, and warming their frozen bodies with warm tea. It was still early spring, and the Earth's weather was cool, especially in rain. During their stays in the Meifuu, they had both forgotten how temperate the Meifuu's climate was, compared to Earth.

"So -"

"Um -"

"You go first," Muraki said quickly.

"Um, okay. First, I'm sorry I have been so difficult. It's my fault, really..." That felt...not entirely right. Hisoka paused, trying to sort his thoughts in order. It was difficult, especially because Muraki was more anxious than his mild, neutral expression indicated. The other shinigami was broadcasting nervousness like searchlight flashes, and it was very distracting.

"Muraki-san, did anyone tell you that I am an empath?"

"Hm? Watari-san mentioned it, yes."

"Then calm down. You're worried, and I can feel it. It's difficult to think when I feel your emotions so strongly."

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't realize... Is there anything -"

"It's fine!" Hisoka snapped before he could help it, and closed his eyes with an explosive sigh. It was so damned similar to talking to Tsuzuki! Scratch that. Though Hisoka had to constantly rein in his temper, Tsuzuki at least had never been this nervous when speaking to him.

"Just calm down a little. Then I'll feel a lot less of your emotions."

The young shinigami frowned when he saw his companion flush. He gave the other shinigami few moments to collect himself, but the embarrassment did not seem to be disappearing.

"What's wrong?" Okay, that sounded a little more impatient than Hisoka would have liked.

"Ah...it's just that...no one has been able to read me so easily before. It feels weird to have someone so easily know what I'm thinking."

"I do not know what you're thinking. I can feel what you feel, and I can't help feeling it," Hisoka replied semi-automatically, having had experiences pointing out this crucial difference to his co-workers few times before.

"It still feels -"

"- Uncomfortable," Hisoka finished for him, "You feel vulnerable."

"Yes," Muraki admitted with some reluctance. "My father used to say it was disgraceful to let one's feelings show."

"Believe me, my parents thought the same. That and they hated me because they felt vulnerable around me. They feared me." Hisoka's voice was flat.

"I don't fear you." The silver eyes were rounded in surprised earnestness. "I was upset because you seemed to dislike me so much. I don't feel quite comfortable having my feelings read, but I don't fear you."

An involuntary laughter escaped him, surprising Hisoka as much as it did Muraki.

"Sorry. It's just that...the only person who's ever been comfortable around me is Tsuzuki. And I think Watari-san and Tatsumi-san, but I'm never around other people much. It's better when I keep my distance, most of the time."

"Physical distance helps, then?"

"Only so much. If it is a strong emotion, like fear, then I can feel it even from a distance. It depends on the intensity of the emotion." He had told Tsuzuki as much, during their case on Queen Camellia.

"Oh. I must have been pretty bad, for you to react like that, then."

"It wasn't that. It's...something else, with you," Hisoka managed, reluctant.

Muraki stopped himself before he asked. It had to be Hisoka's decision, and he did not want to press him. Hisoka had opened up surprisingly more than he had ever hoped. Hisoka, on the other hand, was contemplating what he could say. Obviously, he could not possibly tell this Muraki what his alternate self had done. That could destroy this chance for both of them. So he settled for a neutral question as an opener.

"Do you know how...I died?"

"N-no. I didn't think to ask."

"Someone placed a death-curse on me. That is why I became shinigami, to find out who did it." Hisoka tried to sound as clinical as possible. He had trouble thinking about how he died on his good days, but having to explain it to someone was even worse than he had thought. The unexpected jolt of sympathy and anger in the wake of his explanation was surprising, but the sudden surge of emotions was even more reminiscent of Tsuzuki. And it made him relax his guard just a tiny bit more.

"And...before that person cursed me, he..." Oh God, he could not say it even now. But the horror-filled eyes were so similar to...

...Tsubaki-hime.

"He violated me," Hisoka heard himself say, in a voice devoid of emotion or life. "Then he cursed me, so I would die slowly over three years."

The horror and anger rivaled each other in Muraki, and Hisoka was strangely relieved. He knew that Muraki would not be happy to hear this, but the same emotions that Tsuzuki showed once were now radiating from Muraki, and it was...nice. Knowing someone was so concerned for him caused warmth and reassurance to ripple through him, and gave him just enough strength to continue.

"All this...he did all of this to me, because I happened to catch him murdering someone," Hisoka explained. All right, that might or might not be entirely correct, as he could not remember anything about the circumstances of his own death in this alternate reality, but from what Tsubaki-hime hinted, he did not think they had been very different. "I feel so...uneasy around you, because you...remind me of the person who did this to me."

"What?" The shock had completely canceled out the rest of the emotions. The empath felt the rapid shift of emotions, and sensed the sudden fear which the other shinigami was trying very hard to suppress. Then, suddenly, the emotions ceased as if a gate had slammed shut, leaving only a whisper of fear trickling out from behind the walls. Hisoka did not know whether Muraki had done that consciously, but hastened to explain anyway.

"I do not know who did this to me. I remember...bits and pieces. Fragments of dreams. I do know that it happened, but I do not know who it was." He was really getting uncomfortable. Muraki's eyes were dark, all attentive and intense, too much like the adult Muraki.

"But that person...looks like me?" There was flatness in his voice, a sudden waver of the walls, and something akin to mortal dread slipped through for a second.

"Kind of." Hisoka left it at that. He did not want to lie outright, but telling the whole truth was out of the question here.

"You said you don't know who did it," Muraki pointed out.

"I don't. You just...remind me of that person." That was an evasive answer if he ever saw one, but Hisoka left it at that before he gave away more.

"Oh." The silver eyes were downcast, thoughtful, pained.

"It's not you...I just...it's kind of hard to get over it. But I know it wasn't you." Hisoka wished he sounded surer than he felt. The walls were gradually melting away, leaving Muraki's emotions free to flow into him once more, most prominently a remembered pain. Muraki seemed lost in thought, biting his lower lip, his eyes clouded.

"How can you be sure?" The question was quiet and guarded, but he sounded almost...bitter. The silvery bangs fell into Muraki's eyes, and Hisoka froze for a moment, seeing the older version of Muraki superimposed over the teenager Muraki. The silver eyes lifted, and inexplicably, the young shinigami felt trapped; those eyes had not missed his momentary flash of fear. The moment passed, however, and Hisoka felt the swirl of emotions from the other shinigami: bitterness toward himself, self-doubt, guilt...and pain. Apparently, adolescent Muraki did not have such a high opinion of himself. In fact, his self-esteem almost matched Tsuzuki's.

"I know it wasn't you." His voice was now much steadier. "I know."

Suddenly, Muraki closed his eyes and exhaled. When he opened his eyes, there were traces of moisture glimmering on his eyelashes.

"Thank you."

Hisoka observed the older shinigami silently, feeling a rush of relief wash through his companion, but unsure of what triggered such immense relief.

"Saki...was the one who killed me," Muraki stated suddenly, and Hisoka nodded, not sure where this was going but unwilling to discourage the other. "He was my half-brother, older by two weeks or so, borne from unfaithfulness of my father. When father brought him home, I was fourteen, and I tried to get along with him, but... From the first day, the first time we met, he acted...well, very strange, at least towards me. The first time we met, he just said 'Yoroshiku na, Kazutaka,' with this strangest smile on his face, with this tone that sounded so sincere, but his eyes had no expression. His smile was completely empty."

With a faint shock, Hisoka recalled the strange reaction Muraki had had at Tsuzuki's first greeting. So that was why...

"Ever since, no matter how much I tried to befriend him, he would always just smile exactly like that, with empty eyes and almost mockingly sincere voice. Then he started getting me into different kinds of troubles, and those were the only times he had any kind of expression in his eyes, when he saw me reprimanded by my parents. That went on for two years. I'd never gotten along with my father, but having Saki around just made it worse and worse. Then, just after my sixteenth birthday, my mother suddenly died."

There was pain in his voice, longing mixed with something like...relief? Hisoka declined to comment, however, and silently nodded.

"I'd always known she wasn't well, and it could have been a natural death. But I couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness, and that Saki had something to do with it. Few days later, I had huge argument with my father. The next day, father was dead. No one knew how, but the servants talked, none in my favor, mostly. And Saki followed me everywhere, suddenly solicitous, embracing me and touching me at every chance. He even gave answers to the police that cleared some of the suspicions they had about me." A bitter smile curled his lips. "And like a fool, I thought maybe Saki had finally come around, realized that we were brothers and all we had left in the world was each other."

Hisoka felt a stab of dread, suddenly feeling as if he knew where this was going. He could not bring himself to stop Muraki, however. His voice seemed frozen in his throat.

"During the funeral, I remember...Saki suddenly smiled. It was the same smile, as before, but this time he seemed so pleased about something. When we came back, he dismissed the servants from the house for the day, saying how we two should spend some time by ourselves to mourn. I was... I was afraid." Muraki swallowed dryly. "And I think one of the servants caught on to that. He asked whether I would be alright. Saki dragged me along before I said anything, and that was it. We were alone in my room. Then he pulled a katana on me. We'd both practiced kenjutsu, and he'd won every time we sparred, but I had not known that Saki kept a sharpened, real katana. He smiled, and this time, he looked..." Muraki trailed off, closing his eyes. The sickening fear and horror phased into Hisoka, and he gritted his teeth, trying to hold the vicarious emotions at bay, to concentrate on Muraki.

"I knew then. Saki had killed my parents. When I asked him that, he just laughed. When I asked him why he had done that, he just smiled and leaned down to to lick the blood he'd drawn on my face. He told me I was his, and that he'd kill anyone who tries to take me away from him. Then he started to..." Muraki stopped. His hand resting on the table was clenched, white-knuckled, and his brow was drawn in as if in intense pain. After taking few deep breaths, he continued. "He...touched me. Kissed me when I screamed, held me down with the katana in his hand... I don't know how far he'd have gone if..." Muraki paused again, took another deep breath. "The servant returned, though, and knocked on the door. He said he had a gun, so Saki should just let me go. Saki never looked so frightening before."

There was a longer pause but Hisoka waited with no sign of impatience about him. Finally, Muraki continued. "Saki ran me through with the katana," Muraki said in a hollow voice, "rather than letting me go. Said he's rather send me to hell where I belonged before he let someone take me away from him. He told me that it was all my fault that everything came to this, that he killed father and mother because of me. He said I would have been better off dead, because I would turn out to be worse than he could ever be."

Merciful heavens, the green-eyed empath thought in horror. Had Saki done this to Muraki, even to the other Muraki he had known? If then, it was small wonder Muraki was so obsessed about resurrecting and killing Saki again. He had visited Oriya once, soon after the Kyoto incident, while Tsuzuki was still bed-ridden. He had learned from Oriya why Muraki had been so eager to get Tsuzuki, and just what the experiment had actually been about, but he had not heard anything about this. For the first time, Hisoka could not help feeling a pang of sympathy for the Muraki he once knew.

But for the Muraki of now...

"Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I...led him on, made him...want me..."

Muraki and he were the same. They had fallen victim to someone else's power. However, unlike Hisoka, Muraki had been convinced that it was his own fault.

"...Maybe I am better off dead."

Those silvery eyes pleaded for an answer, asking for anything that could put an end to the doubt. Hisoka knew just how much damage he could do by saying the wrong thing; his own past had bothered him for the past two years, but Muraki's had had sixteen years to fester.

"I wouldn't know." Hisoka kept his voice completely neutral. "All I can say for certain is what I feel from you right now." He waited for Muraki to focus on him, then continued firmly, "You are not evil, Muraki-san." It was an admission, as much to himself as to Muraki, and it was true. This Muraki was not evil, and even innocent - pure - in some regards. Perhaps it was fortunate that Saki killed him when he did, as cruel as the thought was.

"You are nothing like your brother. I've known evil, so trust me when I tell you: you are not evil."

Silence met his firm statement, and few minutes passed. Finally, Muraki met his eyes again, and his emotions were much calmer, warmer.

"...Thank you."

"Saki...wasn't the only problem, I take it?"

Muraki blinked, then closed his eyes with half a laugh. "I keep forgetting you're an empath. No, he wasn't the first one. My mother...she also called me the Devil's doll."

The green eyes widened and he reflexively leaned back, putting more distance between them. So, this was where all the things had started, for both of them.

"Your mother was not kind to you, was she?"

A wave of pain washed through both of them. Hisoka perceived that he had guessed correctly.

"She...wasn't quite right in the head. Beautiful, but she..."

"My mother wasn't kind to me, either. She would call me a demon, and tell me I wasn't her child."

"My mother called me her doll. She used to touch me like she would one of her perfect, porcelain dolls. She had quite a collection, you see. She would always throw away the dolls whenever she tired of them, or whenever fancy struck her. And I was the Devil's doll, destined to kill her. She always said I'd kill her one day. But she wouldn't let me, she said."

"Muraki-san..."

"I always wondered when she would tire of me and throw me away like the rest of them. Broken and damaged, no longer beautiful. Just like her dolls. Just like Veronica."

"Muraki-san."

"She never needed those broken dolls, she never -"

"Muraki-san!"

The silver eyes refocused as the shinigami emerged from his painful memories. Hisoka found his own hand closed over Muraki's without his knowledge, and did his best not to flinch back again.

"It wasn't your fault."

The silver eyes met green, and wavered for a moment. Muraki Kazutaka had never seemed more vulnerable, and the overwhelming despair spiraling within Muraki pulled Hisoka's thoughts back to the time when Tsuzuki had been possessed by Saagatanasu. The excruciating pain and bitter self-loathing were now in Muraki's silver eyes, unnaturally bright with unshed tears. Slowly, Hisoka moved his hand to touch the other's cheek.

"It's all right."

The glassy surface of silvery eyes fractured, and closing his eyes against the tears, Muraki lowered his head. Burying his face in his folded elbows, he cried silently. For sixteen years, he had not been able to confide this to anyone. He did not know what prompted him now, to trust Hisoka of all people with his deepest horror and secret. Perhaps it was the fact that Hisoka, too, had trusted him with a secret. It was apparent that the youngest shinigami had not confided even to his own partner.

"It will be all right," Hisoka murmured, as gently as possible, stroking the silvery hair. The platinum hair was soft - soft as Tsuzuki's midnight black strands. And the emotions flowing into him now were reminiscent of Tsuzuki's, during one cold winter night in Kyoto, a moment forever forgotten by Tsuzuki, although not by Hisoka.

However, that moment had never happened, here.

This moment was real, and it was here, now.

Hisoka let the warm feelings of gratitude and relief and trust surround him. It was nice to have such warm emotions directed exclusively towards him. Only Tsuzuki had ever shown him the kind of emotions that Muraki was now showering on him.

For the first time since their meeting in both worlds, Kurosaki Hisoka touched Muraki Kazutaka's hand without flinching, without hesitating.

"Come on. We've been here for too long. We should head back."

Much calmer, the Muraki nodded in answer, and got up to follow his fellow shinigami. The waitress who had kindly helped them smiled warmly as they left. The pair walked outside, only to find the rain had stopped and the spring sun shining brightly. In comfortable silence, Hisoka and Kazutaka walked together, just walking, without destination, savoring the simple peace and warmth after the long rain.

"Muraki-san -"

"Could you...perhaps call me Kazutaka instead?"

"All right, Kazutaka-san," Hisoka acquiesced easily. He wanted to re-label this person before him in a different name, with different past and future. The person he saw before him now was not Muraki he knew. It was time he accepted it.

"May I call you Hisoka-san?"

"Sure. But you are older than I am. Why...?"

"Habit. I will drop the -san if you do."

"Let's not push it," the younger said quietly. He was surprised when the older shinigami just smiled.

"Deal."


TBC - This part was too long and was cut off. A very short scene follows here.