Thanks: As always, thanks to the readers and especially to my beta-readers TK and Becky.

***
Prologue
***

Light flashed through the dark painted clouds which danced low over Nagasaki. Muraki Kazutaka, or simply Kazutaka to all that knew him, dashed into the church just as the thunder arrived and covered the heavy thud of doors shutting behind him. His young and never aging body gasped for air, a lonely sound lost in the eerie following silence. The sky had been threatening to rain all day, but so far not a drop of water had fallen.

So quiet.

Where was everyone? The church was dark and empty, not even a priest to be found. He quickly approached the altar and saw that a thin layer of undisturbed dust blanketing the seats. Unfortunately, it seemed no one had been there all day. Very strange for such a well-known place. It was lifeless.

Damn.

He stumbled and wilted to the ground, chest feeling as if it were weighted down by lead. His search had failed... Bowing his head, he fought back the urge to cry in despair. This place was the only clue he had in hopes of finding him.

Three months ago his partner, Tsuzuki Asato, had disappeared on a mission. They had been separated in the maze of an underground human slaughter house. One moment they were dodging booby-traps and the half-dead, and the next thing he knew he had lost Tsuzuki. Before he could find the older Shinigami, a hellish blaze had erupted and the building collapsed.

The morning after, he searched the ruins. (Only ashes.)

No bodies were found. (They could have burned away.)

Tsuzuki was simply gone. (Or he could be dead.)

Kazutaka felt his stomach rebel at the thought. He should have done something, should have suspected it was all a trap. But though his heart was burdened with guilt, his head said otherwise. No, the person to blame... the person he could blame everything on... the man who caused the disappearance, who Kazutaka was sure had played some part, he was -

"Right here."

The calm and smooth voice echoed throughout the church. Kazutaka jerked his head around to see at the entrance the source of all his recent pain. Jade colored eyes peered into his soul a moment before the Shinigami could frantically throw up a mental shield. A dim light filtered in through the high stain-glass windows, giving the air an eerie glow that was interrupted every so often by brilliant lightning.

"Looking for me, ne? Or your dear brother Saki, again?" the young man said mockingly at his icy glare. This was Kurosaki Hisoka, age twenty-one, a powerful empath bordering on mind-reading, and Saki's obedient lapdog. Kazutaka glowered. "Me then? How predictable."

"Kurosaki!" he snarled, leaping to his feet. "What have you done with Tsuzuki?"

The man said nothing, only walking leisurely towards him. The rustle of the tan coat and steady footsteps becoming faintly louder.

Kazutaka clenched his fists. "Tell me!"

Kurosaki stopped just a yard away. "I have no duty to answer you," he said impassively.

"What?!"

"Move, boy, you are in my way."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that - I am older than you."

"That may be," he murmured, lips holding the trace of a smirk, "but inside you're still that little boy who died twenty years ago. The hatred in your heart that has branded itself on you since then... did you know it scares even Tsuzuki sometimes?"

Scares? As in present tense? "Then... is Tsuzuki alive?" he asked, despising himself for the desperate note in his voice. He needed to know - needed the knowledge so badly that he would gladly give up any ounce of dignity he had. "Please, tell me, do you know what happened to Tsuzuki?"

"I know." Hope suddenly flared in Kazutaka, but the green eyes remained hard as emeralds. "I just won't tell you."

He snapped, aiming a fist at the man. "Bastard!" he cried just as his hand was easily blocked and captured. Kurosaki effortlessly spun him around and twisted the arm painfully behind him. And the other arm. The man drew Kazutaka back, trapping the teen against him.

"Do you also want to know," he murmured into a pink-tinged ear, "how adorable you are when you struggle?" He languidly wrapped a free arm about the boy possessively. Kazutaka shuddered as the empath trailed a finger down his chest to pause and hover just below the navel.

"S-stop it." Fear spiked his soul as the man gently rubbed his exposed skin.

"You're never prepared - it was very stupid to come to me all alone. No one to save you this time, ne? Not even that bothersome Shadow Master." Panic rose at the increasing caresses. In the past Kurosaki had never truly done anything more than touch - always hinting, always threatening, yet always stopping short of crossing a line. But now...

He shivered. "Let go of me, you monster!" His voice cracked on the last word. He attempted to move, and failed, succeeding only in drawing another stab of pain from his slowly dislocating shoulder. Then, to the Shinigami's relief the hand moved away, but now traced his jaw line. Nails scratched lightly.

"Very stupid." That taunting tone again. A warm breath tickled his cheek as the fingers wandered over his neck. "What is a monster, ne? Someone not human? If that's the case, then is Tsuzuki-san any more of one than I? Than you?"

That hit a nerve. They both knew that Tsuzuki sometimes qustioned his humanity. And no matter what Kazutaka did, no matter how much he said otherwise, there was always that lingering doubt in those eyes. And it was those beautiful, unnatural violet eyes that damned him. "He's human!" he denied. "I am human. You are not."

"In different circumstances I may be less of a demon that you'd like to believe."

"Shut up!" he growled.

Kurosaki frowned at the order - impudent child. He took his exploring hand, placed it on the small of the boy's back, and drove his nails fiercely into the soft flesh. Kazutaka gasped, his back on fire and muscles pulled and protested.

"Oya. First you want me to talk, next you want me quiet?" he tsked, smirking. "Fickle minds make fickle lovers."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Kazutaka managed to pant.

Kurosaki finally released his hold and spun the teen face to face. He leaned close, so very close, and stared darkly into the narrowed gaze. "It means you should move on with your afterlife, and accept that Tsuzuki-san will never return to you."

Never. Return? He stiffened, heart skipping wildly. That could be read so many different ways. Was his partner dead? Alive but captured? He couldn't settle on a thought, knees becoming weak as the numerous possibilities he had been surpressing the last months whirled through his mind. Never return. Two words that meant too much, yet not enough. He was horrified. "What? W-what do you - "

The man forcefully shoved the boy away, who fell on the floor with a quiet thump. Kurosaki left him there, surprised, choosing to stroll past him and to the back of the church. Thunder rumbled, sounding closer.

"Where are you going?" Kazutaka demanded hotly, shakily rising. "Don't walk away! Where is Tsuzuki!"

He didn't answer, but instead touched the cool gray bricks that made up the back wall, near an exit. Strangely, he tapped them. He was looking for... what? Then, one golden hand grasped a particular brick - one that was square, not rectangle - and violently pulled it out, letting it clatter to the ground. There was a space behind the opening, but Kazutaka couldn't see what was in it.

"What the hell? Kurosaki..."

"Do you actually think I'm here because of you, boy? No, this is what I'm after..." He reached in and pulled something out. Something dull and heavy. "Hiding a cross in a Christian church. No one would ever think twice." Indeed, it was a cross - an intricate one, made of stone - but what was so important about it?

"It's important," Kurosaki said, reading the curiosity, "because Saki-san wants it. The key to everything."

"A key...?"

"To a countless number of dimensions - to heaven, to hell, and all else in between. One only needs to find the correct door. Silly isn't it? I don't know if it even works... do you feel well enough to experiment?" he chuckled with a nasty grin, the first full expression Kazutaka had seen him use that evening. It scared him. "I've studied on this. Very interesting."

"Wait, what are you - " He started forward in dread. Nothing Saki ever wanted was good.

"So many questions, child! For once in your life, be silent." Kurosaki moved towards the back exit. The door was plain, made from wood, and had a leaf-like design on it.

"Don't move - !" The Shinigami ran, reaching out to stop him.

Too late. The man had pressed the cross into the center of the doorway and suddenly the church exploded with a blinding light. It wasn't lightning from the storm - it came from the door itself. It had become a bright, dazzling, hungry portal. The portal seemed to yawn and waver as if it were awakening and getting a good morning's stretch. Kazutaka shielded his face, and tried to see if Kurosaki was still there.

He wasn't.

Then, a strong power grabbed him, like gravity, or a magnet to metal. Wind whipped around the room like a tornado, and he felt himself pitching forwards. No... no! He tried to scream, but his breath was sucked away along with his body. Against his will, Kazutaka was dragged into the light.

Once the radiance had faded out and the dust settled, there would be no sign that anyone had been there.

And outside, it began to rain.

***
To Be Continued
***

*

***
One
***

It was late afternoon when Tsuzuki and Hisoka finished their latest assignment in Nagasaki. It hadn't been a terribly dire case, and, having nothing better to do, they decided to take a walk through one of the city's large and peaceful parks. Summer had given away to autumn, turning the trees into the colors of fire. Hisoka took a deep breath of the cool breeze, tilting his head slightly as if listening to the hushed rustle of leaves. So calm.

"Hisoka! Let's stop by the bakery later. We haven't had any of Nagasaki's cakes in over four years!" Tsuzuki said as he stretched, trademark grin ready and eager on his face.

"Trust that you would know when you've had a dessert last," Hisoka answered, smiling gently at his partner's enthusiasm. That was back on their first mission together, when he had mistakenly thought that his new partner was a vampire.

"Four years isn't that long," he pointed out.

The younger one nonchalantly shrugged. "Not for you, maybe."

"Are you calling me old?" Tsuzuki said with a playfully suspicious look, pouting.

"Not at all," he answered, light tone saying otherwise.

"Hisoka-a-a...!"

He put on an innocent expression. "Didn't you say something about going to the bakery?"

"Oh yeah!" He grinned again. Hisoka could almost see the images of baked goodness swirling around in his partner's head. "Hurry! They'll be closing..."

The Shinigami nodded absently, trailing quickly after him. The park looked no different than it had the last time they were there. Same trees, same benches, and only a change in season. A sigh. Four years, huh? I would have been, what, twenty-one? He glanced down at his youthful hands. "How much would I have changed?"

He came to a halt. A pair of smooth yet strong fingers had suddenly wrapped themselves around his own.

"I think you've changed a lot," Tsuzuki said, beaming softly down at him.

Hisoka blushed, having not meant to speak out loud.

"Tsuzuki, I - " he started, but couldn't quite think of anything to say. After Kyoto they had become close, closer than anyone they knew, but some aspects of their relationship stayed quiet. Meaning, even now, after all this time, Hisoka still wasn't sure how to consider themselves. The best of friends? Family? Or something more...

And it wasn't as if they were avoiding the issue, if there was a so-called issue. There were barriers between them that had worn away long ago. To anyone who might have been watching they did seem like they were, well, together. He almost stiffened at the thought. Yes, together. Wasn't that what Tsuzuki had said after Kyoto? They could overcome anything, if only with each other. To hell with issues. Nothing was standing in their way, was there?

Tsuzuki chose this moment to give him a swift kiss on his forehead, which brought out a brighter blush from Hisoka. "Ne, how about if I go get the cake? There's something else I need to do, anyway. Just wait here!"

"H-hai." Fingers squeezed and released. The air seemed colder without their warmth.

"I'll be back in a second!"

Then he was off, running across the field towards a long line of gray buildings. But halfway there the man tripped and slammed his face impressively into the ground. Grass flew, and Hisoka winced in sympathy. The dark-haired Shinigami immediately stood back up, tenderly clutching his nose.

"I'm okay!" He waved back.

Hisoka stifled a laugh. "Baka."

Tsuzuki sniffled; the only thing really hurt was his dignity. The physical pain was leaving and had fully disappeared by the time he had reached the other side of the park. Good thing, too, since he realized he wasn't exactly sure where to find the bakery from there. Embarrassing himself further by returning to Hisoka wasn't an option. He'd have to depend on the delicious smell of sweets to lead him. After all, in anything related to food, he might as well have been part bloodhound.

The scent steered him true, and he started to recall the streets from his short trips there whenever a case took place in the area. The cobblestone roads branched off like ever shrinking rivers flowing with people. A few shortcuts down some alleys and viola! The bakery stood modestly on a corner, welcoming patrons with a painted sign. Tsuzuki could have wept with joy.

Food bought and bag in hand, he stepped back out into the sunlight ten minutes later.

He looked left, then right, then paused, thinking.

The problem now was trying to find his way back to the park. Hmm, to the west?

"I swear this was a road," he grumbled to himself, confused look on his face as he jogged. And he thought Watari was the directionally challenged one of the group. The alleyway was not one he had passed through, but lead in the way he needed to go. Being out of the way it was untouched by tourists, and the stench of garbage nearby blew through the air like a deterrent.

The drumming of another pair of footsteps. From an adjacent alley, a pale young man in black jeans and sweater had exited up ahead. He was glancing around with a lost expression on his face that was similar to the Shinigami's. It cheered him a bit; at least he wasn't alone in his dilemma. Maybe they could help each other out.

"Hey, are you looking for the road, too?" Tsuzuki called, smiling.

The teen spun around violently at the sound of his voice. Light eyes stared, then widened in disbelief. Jaw slack, a strangled and muffled cry emanated from the boy's throat. He shook his head in alarm, as if confronted with a vision, sending the fluffy platinum hair waving.

Tsuzuki slowed his pace and stopped. That was definitely not the reaction he was expecting. "Ne, are you all right?"

The answer was slow to come, and his trembling voice could only choke, "You..."

He blinked, friendly smile beginning to wane. The kid was blatantly staring at him. "Hello?"

"Tsu...Tsuzuki?" the pale teen said, tentatively stepping forward. "Is that - are you - ?" The boy cut himself off, looking fearful of what the man would respond.

He scratched the back of his neck. "Um, yes...?"

Something like shock rippled through the colorless limbs. Then a cry; one filled with a shining, happy tone that lifted years from the kid's shoulders that the Shinigami hadn't realized were there. "It is you!" he said. "You're all right! I thought that you - when you disappeared after the fire - " He broke off, the last word cracking. The boy suddenly took a running leap and flung his arms around the taller Shinigami, burrowing his face into the man's chest.

Dropping the shopping bag, Tsuzuki awkwardly returned the hug, surprised. Huh? Who was this? The back of his mind told him there was something frighteningly familiar about the boy - he looked a bit like Hisoka, even - but exactly who he was, Tsuzuki didn't know.

After a moment he gently put him at arm's length, gazing into somewhat misty eyes.

"I'm sorry," he started slowly, "but do I know you?"

"You... what - ?" The teen gripped the hand on his shoulder, looking up in an almost hurt confusion. "Hey, come on, don't joke around."

"I'm not," he apologized.

"B-but it's me," he sputtered. "Muraki Kazutaka. I'm your partner."

Tsuzuki chilled. "You...?"

"Yeah! Me." He smiled, mistaking the hesitation as recognition. "I was so worried. Where have you been all this time?"

"Muraki..." Silence.

"You mean Kazutaka," he insisted, giving a strange look. "Hey, what‘s the matter? You‘re not acting like yourself."

Tsuzuki shoved the boy away without warning. He looked down then up. White hair, snowy skin, and silver eyes. Could it really be? Was it... "Muraki," he growled, drawing out a fuda. "What sick game are you playing this time? Why are you like this?"

The youthful Muraki stumbled back, stunned, retracing his earlier steps. "What are you doing? I'm your partner!"

"You are not," he declared adamantly, fuda wrinkling as hands balled into fists. "Hisoka is!"

"Hisoka? But that's Kurosaki," he said, eyes narrowing.

*

Back at the park, Hisoka was growing impatient as he sat on a stone bench. His partner had been gone for almost twenty minutes, and he knew that the store was not too far from here. Though, he might have expected for the older man to get turned around in the busy roads. The city was just beginning to prepare for a big festival held next week. For what, Hisoka wasn't sure. Their excitement was muted, though he could feel it well enough.

Cold.

A pulse of darkness washed over his empathy. The hairs on his arms rose, and dread kissed a path down his spine with curious teeth. He shivered, sitting straight and eyes searching. The only other person that could draw such a reaction out of his powers was Muraki - but this hardly felt like the doctor. It was different and, strangely, very much the same in its hollowness.

Coming from... close by...

Turning inconspicuously to his right towards the sunset, he spotted a man watching him from under the shadow of a red maple tree. The glowing silhouette might have been that of a statue's, but a nearly invisible nod of the head betrayed its life. Hisoka couldn't see the figure's face very well, but it was quite clear that the pair of bright eyes were locked steadily on him. The observer was dressed in a tan trench coat, gold in the light, that matched the caramel hair and cream of his skin. Something about him put Hisoka very on guard

Who...?

He sent his empathy towards the man, hoping to discover why he felt so wrong. But whatever window of emotion he had seen through a minute earlier now slammed shut at his prodding. The young Shinigami gasped at the backlash, sensing pain across his mind akin to a slap.

He glared at the man. What was that?

Then, as if finding whatever he was looking for, the light-encircled man turned and walked calmly away.

Hisoka, unsettled, decided that he better go look for Tsuzuki. His partner was taking too long, anyway.

The streets were busy, but he navigated them well enough. The... essence... of Tsuzuki could be felt miles away if Hisoka concentrated, so it was merely minutes before he heard the shouting. It was the older Shinigami, and someone else. Then, his name was spoken, growled out really, but by an unfamiliar voice.

"Tsuzuki, is that you?" Two heads turned at the sound. Hisoka had appeared at the other end of the alley, glancing between his friend and a pale boy. No one said a word, but he picked up on the tense atmosphere, the park incident forgotten. A confrontation? "What's wrong?"

The boy was the first to speak. "You," he hissed hatefully. The word was laced with dark recognition. With maddening speed a white blur had rushed Hisoka and tackled him to the ground.

"Hisoka!" Tsuzuki cried out, just as the first punch landed across the young man's face.

That HURT. What the Hell?! The fist drew back for another hit, but he was ready and easily caught the wrist. He shoved the other boy sideways in self-preservation and scrambled to his feet in time to dodge a third hit.

"Kurosaki, you bastard!" the flushed teen panted, then rushed him again. They collided, hand in hand, nails digging like claws.

"What? Kuro - ? I just met you!" Hisoka tripped the boy up, but the other wrestled him to the floor as he fell.

"Shut up! I'd know you anywhere." They were equally matched in strength, and ended up tumbling over and over down the alleyway. The Shinigami knocked into a trash can, sending its contents skittering away. Hisoka finally twisted them around and sat on the other teen's chest, while griping the black sweater.

"Who the hell are you, kid?!" The young man's anger was bleeding into the empath.

"Don't call me that," he gasped, "my name is Kazutaka!"

There was so much hatred directed at Hisoka behind the statement that he became dizzy. Kazutaka; where had he heard that name? Kazutaka certainly felt he knew him. "I've never seen you before, I swear!"

"Liar! What have you done to Tsuzuki?!" Accusation in those searing gray eyes.

"Tsuzuki?" he asked, fazed. "How do you know - "

"Stop pretending!" With a power born of blind rage, Kazutaka literally threw Hisoka into the wall behind them. Bits of brick shattered, and his back went numb with shock. The young man stood, pounced like a cat, and wrapped his hands around Hisoka's neck.

Hisoka sucked in a pained breath before the fingers tightened. It was too close, and his shields were wavering. Each thought in Kazutaka's mind impacted on him as a waterfall to a wooden bridge. Then the thin ropes broke, neatly ripped apart by the intensity of emotions. The empath frantically fought the onslaught of images and feelings surging into him.

Red.

The boy remembered red. There was fire. The bite of smoke.

And through it, from a great distance, a pair of flat, empty, amethyst eyes.

His heart ached.

Hisoka froze, thoughts going fuzzy and erratic from the lack of oxygen. What is this? Suddenly he felt as if he were back in Kyoto, watching as Tsuzuki was surrounded in flames and heat. Oh God oh God oh God, got to get to him before the building collapsed -

But it did collapse. At least, that was what Kazutaka recalled.

How do you know him? Hisoka wondered, panicking. Whose memories were these? He'd had nightmares like these, but even this was too real to be a dream. This - this never happened! Didn't it?!

Tsuzuki... where's Tsuzuki?!

The dull purple faded away, melting into the shadows. Fear overwhelmed him, spiking his soul like shards of glass driven through yielding flesh.

"Tsuzu...ki!" Hisoka rasped desperately through the vice-like hold, petrified, for a moment confusing what he was witnessing with reality. That one night was brought back in full force, as if no time had passed. Except now he was looking down a dark hallway instead of a wrecked lab, his lonely screams swallowed by the rumble of the ground. A sob worked its way from his throat. His partner...

Then someone else ghosted into his sight, not Tsuzuki, but a man young and tall with jade eyes that turned away as the walls died all around.

I know him, he realized. It was the man at the park. It was...

Another violent shake, and he fell to his knees. Debris and cement fragments fell, kicking up dust. He could see the ceiling coming down to greet him -

The hands on his neck released, ending the vision. Someone had wrenched the two teens apart and stood with his back facing Hisoka. The teen clutched at the black coat thankfully, brushing at tears that had leaked out.

Tsuzuki held up a fuda to the other boy's forehead. "Sleep," he ordered. Kazutaka gaped at him, surprised. An expression of deep pain and betrayal graced his features before the pale eyes slid close and thin body slumped over on the ground.

Hisoka didn't see it. He had buried his face into a free hand, noting distantly that his body was trembling. He could only focus on those faded orbs, and the man whose coat he was holding on to like a lifeline.

The fabric shifted, and someone gently pried his hands into their own. A real pair of purple eyes, beautiful and aware, yet brimming with worry, bore through his own green ones. Tsuzuki was right here. Safe.

"Breath, Hisoka, come on, it‘s okay," he begged.

Hisoka started, the world rushing back along with the pain in his chest. He'd been holding his breath. Air, needed air. Lungs jerked into action.

"What the hell happened?" he finally coughed, gagging on phantom smoke.

Tsuzuki sighed in relief, smiling brightly before abruptly switching back into seriousness. He released his grip, a bit to Hisoka's disappointment, and turned towards the sleeping boy. "I don't know," he admitted. "He just showed up. He said... he said he was Muraki Kazutaka."

Hisoka stared, now knowing where he had heard that name. "But this can't be Muraki. It couldn‘t be."

"They look alike."

"Maybe if Muraki were years younger."

"Do you think they're related?"

"I don‘t know... how would he know you?"

"Uhm."

"Well, from what I felt, their emotions, their souls, have nothing in common," Hisoka said. "Of what little soul Muraki possesses, anyway.

"But he saw things," he continued, softer, "Weird things. Like you in - in a fire."

His partner made a face. "You mean Kyoto? Then he's Muraki. He was there."

"No! Not like that. Different. And not the lab... you were in the fire, somewhere at the end of a hall, and the building collapsed." His voice was strained. "It was like he was dying inside, too."

Tsuzuki shook his head in confusion. "Still sounds like Kyoto."

He shut his eyes, frustrated. The visions were still crisp in his mind, and he still felt the leftover bleed of emotions. He quickly looked up again, trying to banish them. "Imagine that you were seeing through my point of view," he explained quietly. "Except that I never got to you."

The Shinigami pondered this, not liking the picture it made in his head. "Oh," he said after a minute.

"And," Hisoka added, "I think, you didn't get out." Talking like this, about this, it made him feel - detached. Numb, almost. A play happening to another person; this boy, maybe. It was more than a bit eerie.

Tsuzuki, his Tsuzuki, tilted his head. "You know this?" "I felt it."

The man nodded, understanding.

"But I don't think it was Touda's," Hisoka murmured.

He blinked at the mention of the Shikigami. "What do you mean?"

"The fire," he said. "For one thing, the flames were red."

"And Touda's flames are black."

"Right."

"So why are you still looking at me like I'm going to disappear?" Tsuzuki placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to drive away the haunted appearance in his green stare.

He flushed. "Sorry," he stammered. "It's just that he, um, to him, y-you... did. I think. Then, I sort of caught it."

"Uh-huh," he answered, tone halfway-unconvinced. He held tighter, though.

They stayed there, contemplating as Kazutaka dozed, ignoring the fact that evening was fast approaching.

Tsuzuki broke the silence. "What should we do?"

Hisoka ran his gaze over the calm porcelain face. "We should bring him back with us to JuOhCho. Watari might be able to tell us who he is. Then we'll figure something out when he wakes up."

"All right," he nodded. "I'll carry him, since you might synch up with him again."

"Okay."

Together the two Shinigami, one cradling a limp body, left.

At the mouth of the alley, hidden under the shadow of a doorway, a man with jade eyes watched in interest.

***
To Be Continued
***

*

***
Two
***

Hisoka impatiently shifted in his chair, feeling moody and just a little ill from the after effects of taking a trip through their new ward‘s mind. The air was stuffy, and he really did not appreciate the heat. He and the others were in the lab just down the hall from the recovery room Muraki was sleeping in. The window was opened though no breeze came through.

Across from him, Tsuzuki was peeking curiously over Watari’s shoulder, trying to decipher the techno-babble on the computer screen. The scientist clutched a small lock of silver hair in one hand, bringing up data with the other. Comparing genetic information.

“What’s that?” Tsuzuki asked, pointing to a symbolic picture of a bunch of bubble-like things all twisted up. A strand of DNA.

“Thymine,” Watari said cheerfully, “It’s one of the four bases of a nucleotide that are found in DNA. Thymine is paired with adenine in DNA sequences and is replaced by uracil in mRNA. I thought I’ve explained this to you before?”

“Uh,” Tsuzuki replied. He understood, sort of - he had heard all about it back when coming across information on Professor Satomi and his cloning research. “Just forgot. There’s a lot more to know now than when I was young.”

“Maybe your memory is slipping in your old age,” Hisoka retorted.

“But I’m so well preserved! This skin, this hair,“ he answered with a playful tilt of his head. One of the perks of being dead - you never looked your age. “Aren’t I, Hisoka?”

The teen blinked, then scowled. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because then it would be true.” He nodded for emphasis.

Hisoka arched an eyebrow. Where was the logic in that? “… People can lie.”

Tsuzuki reached over and ruffled his hair, risking serious injury. “But you never lie to make me feel better!” Then he shielded himself with the same arm from his young partner’s glowing glare.

“What?” he said darkly, hands on counter and leaning forward. Was that some kind of unintentional insult?

“No! No! I mean it as a good thing!” The man composed himself and also leaned over the table, not noticing that he was suddenly right in front of an irritated Hisoka‘s face. “You’re honest.” Then he added, beaming, “Thank-you.”

At the soft force of Tsuzuki’s voice, Hisoka’s harsh expression melted away into one of slightly embarrassed confusion. “I - ah . . . ” The power of speech failed him for the second time that day. He had no response, feeling very flustered, if oddly pleased. Then, he blushed, realizing just how close his partner was. Stupid; if either of them moved just a little bit further . . .

Hisoka froze, like a deer, unable to do anything but stare into Tsuzuki’s eyes. They were so bright, so alive. How horrible would it be if he had to live without seeing them ever again, or to have his last memory of them be flat and empty? He swallowed thickly; his partner had not moved and continued smiling, as if still waiting for his answer.

“Y-you’re welcome,” Hisoka stuttered lamely. Damn it.

With a hoot, 003 decided on this moment to hurl her cute and feathery tail through the window. Spotting Tsuzuki she zipped around his head, maybe hoping for a treat (or crumbs of recent adventures through sweets), and in return the man literally pounced on her with joy.

“003,” he said, sitting back normally and petting the tiny owl. “How’s the night, 003?”

Hisoka blinked at the abrupt departure of the Shinigami’s violet gaze. “Idiot,” he muttered. At least, he didn’t feel quite as ill anymore. There was a quiet cough, though it was the kind that someone did to hide a laugh. Glancing up, he caught Watari watching.

“Now, was that in reference to him, or yourself?“ the scientist said. He held a knowing and smug quirk in his lips.

“Excuse me?” he said defensively. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

The quirk grew into a grin. “Never mind, just thinking out loud,“ Watari intoned, ducking back to the keyboard as Tsuzuki continued cuddling the aerodynamic ball of fluff.

“Got anything?” Tsuzuki finally asked after a minute. 003 cooed and fluttered off to sit on the top of the computer.

There was another short pause before Watari spoke, “I have the results of the DNA test.”

“And?”

“And, from the hair we took off of that boy, then comparing it with one of Muraki’s hair we received back in the Kyoto case…” He clicked his mouse a few times, bringing up graphs and two pictures - one of Muraki, and of the teen that attacked them - with a series of numbers running underneath. “The DNA matches perfectly.”

Hisoka blinked. “Perfectly?”

“Yes.”

“So the one sleeping down the hall . . . ” he trailed off.

Watari nodded. “He, in all evidence, is Muraki Kazutaka.”

“But, he can’t be!” he protested. “His - his mind - isn’t at all like Muraki.” “Genetically, they’re exactly the same, even accounting for the difference in ages.”

“Do you . . . ” Tsuzuki murmured thoughtfully, “do you think he could be a clone?”

“I suppose that’s possible.” The blond rubbed his chin, a small spark of interest in his eyes. No matter the situation, he always enjoyed figuring out difficult questions. “But cloning is very recent and the boy here looks to be seventeen or so. And there is no proof of tampering or decay in the DNA.”

The youngest Shinigami shook his head. “And how would he know you, Tsuzuki?”

“Could memories be cloned?” he asked.

“Technically, that’s impossible,” answered Watari. “Your memories and overall personality are based off of experience, not your genes. It’s what makes us who we are. For example, identical twins, who are almost like natural clones anyway, if raised apart can become totally different people.”

“But don’t they become more alike than different?” the teen pointed out.

“That‘s true . . . I guess it depends on the circumstances.” He sighed. “And we won’t be able to find anything else until the boy wakes up and we ask. How long is he going to be out?”

Tsuzuki gave a guilty look. “I’m not sure; I wasn’t thinking when I used the spell.” That was dangerous - he could have very easily put him in a coma.

“It’s okay,” Hisoka interjected. “Don’t worry.”

“He should be sleeping until morning, at least.” Tsuzuki nodded.

The scientist removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I’ll tell Tatsumi about this as soon as I can - he’s finishing up paperwork about your last assignment. So I suggest that you two stay here for the night, just in case our visitor decides to wake up. We don’t know what he’s capable of, if anything.”

“Where, uh, should we sleep?” Hisoka asked, cheeks turning slightly pink. Damn his reflexes.

Watari smiled, amused. Damn him, too. “Take the patient room next door to his. There are two beds. Use them both, if you have to,” he said deliberately. “The blankets should be in the closet.”

Hisoka glowered at his tone, wishing that the man’s long hair would wrap itself around his neck and squeeze. The blond continued to innocently smile.

“Sankyuu, Watari!” Tsuzuki answered brightly, missing the silent exchange completely. The man latched on to the younger‘s arm, pulling towards the door. “Come on Hisoka! Lets get snacks from the vending machine before going to bed!”

“Wha - what? But I’m not tired yet,” Hisoka argued. Well, maybe a little.

“I know,” he said as they exited. “But you’ve had a busy day, and sleeping is good! And so is food.”

“I . . . idiot, didn’t you buy cakes in Nagasaki?“

A wail of despair echoed down the hall. “I left them back in that alley!”

In the lab, Watari laughed.

*

Tatsumi shut the last of his folders and documents as a rapid knock came from the office door. “Enter,” he ordered crisply.

The door squeaked open and a mop of yellow hair poked in, smiling warmly yet meaningfully, in the way only he could pull off. Tatsumi gave his own tired one in return. As Watari liked to say, smiles were free, after all.

“Hey, Tatsumi,” he called, holding up a large paper bag. “Did you remember to eat today, with all the work? I thought Tsuzuki had the right idea, so I brought some snacks. Meat buns all right? Even if they are a day old . . . ”

“Oh,“ he blinked, the quick dialogue shaking him out of the calm silence of the job. Then, more polite this time, he added, “that’s fine, thank-you. Please, come in.” Watari shut the door quietly behind him and took a seat in front of the immaculate oak desk. “What brings you here, or is my health the only reason?”

“I wanted to see how the infamous shadow master manages to stay up all night and not fall over,“ the scientist joked. With a soft rustle, he planted the bag on the desk and took out what looked to be two medium-sized plates made from curved glass. Tatsumi was almost afraid to ask. Lab supplies doubling as dinnerware, no doubt. As long as it was clean and untouched by any recent insane experiment.

“Force of habit.”

The food was set out with two styrofoam cups of tea, poured from a thermos. Watari scooted half of the items towards him. “And coffee? A lot of coffee, I bet . . . Besides, I came to update you on the stray that Tsuzuki and Bon picked up, remember?”

“Ah, yes.” He lifted a bun and took a bite, savoring it for a moment before chewing and swallowing. Truthfully, he really had forgotten to eat dinner. “You couldn’t have called?”

“But I would have missed out on your glowing personality.” He chuckled. Tatsumi simply answered him with a dark look. “How rude - I mean, I brought you food and everything.”

“I’m sorry,” he said without a hint of apology in his voice.

“Liar!”

He sipped at his tea, and ignored the accusation. “So, what have you come to tell me?”

The man swirled the tea in his own cup for a moment, suddenly somber. Warm eyes were pensive, figuring out the best way to say what he knew. Tatsumi waited patiently, curious, until Watari finally said, “We think the person they found is Muraki.”

He choked. “Muraki? Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” Standing, he made a motion towards the exit. “Is Tsuzuki - “

“Tsuzuki is fine,” Watari broke in. “Don’t jump to conclusions! And Muraki is sleeping.“

Tatsumi was dumbfounded. “Sleeping?“

“Yes, and won’t be up until tomorrow. Sit and calm down,“ he ordered firmly. The secretary paused, debated on a course of action, but obeyed. “Let me explain.”

Watari swiftly described what the pair had told him and the events of the past hour.

Tatsumi rubbed his temples when he finished. “So what you’re saying is that - “

“Yes.”

“And that he’s - “

“Most likely.”

“And we’re going to have to wait until - “

“Yup!” he exclaimed, downing his tea, then making a face. They had finished the buns and the drinks were already getting cool. “I think you’re updated, now.”

He adjusted his glasses, considering. “And what am I supposed to do?”

“Nothing, really. Go home, get some rest, then come back in the morning.”

“That’s it?” Tatsumi blinked.

“That’s it.”

“. . . You really could have simply called.”

“Oh?” The blond tilted his head. “Weren’t you hungry?”

“I was . . . “

A bright smile. “Then is there a problem?“

A sigh of surrender - he wasn’t going to start bickering about such a small matter, anyway. “No. And thank-you . . . and I’ll leave as soon as I file these papers. You might want to go home sometime and get some sleep, too,” he said pointedly.

“Right, right, I‘m going,” Watari answered with a wave, shoving their leftover junk into the paper bag. There was a distinct musical tinkling as one of the glass plates had knocked too hard into the other and shattered. They both winced. “And the cot in my lab’s just fine. You just pack up, or whatever . . . then good night!”

“Good night, Watari-san.”

He left, not closing the door behind him.

*

Hisoka jerked awake, unsure of where he was. His heart jumped, the first sight that greeted him being the sakura tree at the window, and he sat up. Dim moonlight, tinted only slightly pink, not red, filled the shadowed room as he blinked in confusion. There wasn’t a tree in his yard. Where was he?

Tsuzuki slept peacefully on the next bed, arms strewn out into a comfortable position and mouth hanging vaguely open. Hisoka sighed quietly, remembering. They were in one of the recovery rooms.

The teen yawned and stretched, feeling uneasy. Something had woken him up. The tightness in his chest grew, and a taste of distress whispered at his edges. They were someone else’s emotions. That had been what stirred him. Whose emotions?

Glancing over at his partner again, Hisoka swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, frowning. Well, it wasn’t Tsuzuki‘s. The man was dead asleep.

Shivering, Hisoka slipped on his sneakers and padded out into the hall. He still had on the clothes from the day before, having chosen not to change into the patient robes found in the closet. Jeans and a sweater were warmer than those, anyway.

Outside the room he could hear soft murmurs coming from the next room. Lightly touching the small window on the door, his curious eyes peered through it. Muraki was . . .

He lingered on the thought. They called the boy that name for now, but if Hisoka could force himself to truly believe that kid and that doctor were the same person, he would have been too nervous to even approach the door. So instead, he just chose not to believe it.

My name is Kazutaka, he had said.

Kazutaka was having a nightmare. Sweating and tossing his head like any other dreamer, keening and panting like an injured deer.

Hisoka averted his gaze and back up a little, some how embarrassed to be witnessing another in their moment of weakness. What ever it was, it should be private. The quiet whimpers increased, the dream more painful.

. . . Someone really should try and wake him.

Yet despite his instincts, Hisoka turned towards his own room fully intent on going back to bed and wait the spell out. Then he paused, debating. He would not be getting any more sleep that night if this continued, however. Emotions were rolling off of the kid.

The kid could hit real hard, though, he reminded himself.

Another muffled cry.

Red.

There was fire.

A pair of flat, empty, amethyst eyes.

His heart ached.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Hisoka stumbled forward again, returning to the shared room. Stepping up to Tsuzuki’s still form, he shook the man by the shoulder. “Tsuzuki, wake up.”

His partner snorted sleepily as he returned to the world of the living. Dead. Limbo. Wherever. Rubbing his clear eyes in puzzlement, Tsuzuki asked, “What is it? Is something wrong, Hisoka?” Then he added, expression serious, “Did you want to sleep in my bed?”

That man must not be fully aware that his mouth was moving without permission from his brain. “Wake up, stupid,” Hisoka ordered irritably, cuffing him on the head. Thankfully, it was too dark to see the blush coloring his cheeks. “And then try to wake Muraki up, too.”

Really, he had meant to say Kazutaka, but the other name slipped easily out.

Tsuzuki tensed. “Muraki? Oh, you mean, him.” Sliding the covers off he sat on the edge of the bed. He wore one of the patient robes, the kind that tied around the waist and went past the knees. “Now? But the spell will be over in a few hours.”

“He . . . Isn’t sleeping very well.” Then he added, “And neither can I.”

“Oh.” He mulled over this for a second. “All right. But why me?”

“Because I don’t think he’d be too glad to see me,” Hisoka answered dryly. “And you’re the one who did the spell, can’t you undo it?”

“I’ve never tried, actually. It‘s usually simpler to let it pass.”

He looked closely at him. “Want to try now?”

Almost reluctantly, Tsuzuki shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Hisoka sighed again. Worry and caution were leaking out of the man, just enough to make the empath a little restless, too. “I don’t think he’s Muraki,” he blurted.

Some of the tension in his partner’s stance suddenly drained and his shoulders slumped. “Are you sure?” he said, not needing to ask how the teen knew what was troubling him.

“Almost positive.”

Tsuzuki took a breath and stood. “All right.” Taking a fuda from his coat, they left.

The pale boy was still whispering in his slumber, keening softly. Hisoka hung in the doorway, having an abrupt sense of deja vu as Tsuzuki silently approached the dreamer and keeled over him, a silhouette in moonlight. His wary expression softened when his partner gently brushed hair from the damp face before resting a hand on the forehead. Flinching away from the touch at first, Kazutaka seemed to recognize him and unconsciously nuzzled the fingers. Tsuzuki shut his eyes, grasping the fuda with two fingers, and concentrated.

“Wake.”

For a moment Hisoka thought it might not have worked. Then, the panting calmed and a hushed, uncertain voice spoke up.

“Tsuzuki?”

Hisoka had a few theories of what would happen after waking him up - possibly get angry, confused, or attack him again - but Kazutaka suddenly wrapping his arms around Tsuzuki and burying him in a deep kiss hadn’t been one.

***
To Be Continued
***

*

***
Three
***

The aching warmth that spread throughout his mind came as a surprise to Hisoka, as was the sudden relief threatening spill over as tears. His chest tightened. There was a sense that a dark and lonely hole had been filled once again, a piece of his soul found. Complete joy, regret, and disbelief. Kazutaka’s.

The mental barriers were still sensitive from the earlier contact, so even the lightest flicker of that tenderness made him dizzy. Hisoka pushed it away, imagined that he felt nothing as he untangled himself from the torrent. Anything that he had no reason to be feeling belonged to another, belonged to someone else. Find a focus. So he centered on the one sure thing - his own shock.

Across the room the look in Tsuzuki’s eyes mirrored his own, though Kazutaka was too preoccupied to notice. Instead the boy was knotting his hand through the Shinigami's dark hair, lips drinking recklessly, and holding as tight as he could as if either of them would suddenly fade away.

Hisoka didn't know what to do. He stared stupidly, uncomprehending and conflicted. Shock turned to embarrassment - this was definitely not meant for his eyes. But who did this… this brat think he was, doing that to Tsuzuki? Thankfully, Kazutaka broke the kiss, pressing his face into the crook of his neck.

“Uhm… uh - “ His partner flailed, arms moving in jerks, not knowing what to do.

"I thought you were gone," the boy said, voice cracking. "He said that you'd never return - " He broke off, choking as he began to cry.

Kazutaka was now clinging so hard to Tsuzuki that the man could feel the racing heart through the black sweater. Tsuzuki could find no other response except to lower his arms and slowly wrap them around him, hoping it was the right thing to do. Whoever this was, a clone, or someone else entirely, he was in pain - and the last thing he wanted was for someone to be hurt because of him.

"It's... it's all right," Tsuzuki murmured in a tone that he hoped was comforting. Then he sent a look to Hisoka. What in the world was going on?

The young Shinigami had no answer, leaning in the shadow of the doorway.

Then, “I love you,” Kazutaka whispered, voice thick.

The disbelief on Hisoka’s face at that declaration would have made him laugh out loud if Tsuzuki had been in a position to appreciate it. But, no, he probably held a similar expression - and this time the boy noticed. Eyes gray as rain clouds and just as wet opened to stare upwards.

Though it was dim, the moonlight through the window was all Kazutaka needed to see the blank unease in those faceted eyes.

“Tsuzu…ki?” Kazutaka breathed, the blood draining from his face and leaving him cold, feeling the creep of dread up his spine. Maybe this was all a dream, as he had first thought when awakening, but this had felt so real. Why would Tsuzuki be acting so… distant…

And with a jerk, he remembered the day‘s event. The key. An alleyway in Nagasaki. His partner with no memory of him, and…

He whipped his head around, suspicions confirmed when his eyes raked over the figure at the door. Even in the dark, with the moon through the window as his only light, he knew perfectly well who it was. Though the man was somehow… younger… he recognized those snake-green eyes which were pinned under his razor glare.

“Kurosaki!” he cursed. Kazutaka bolted towards him, but Tsuzuki caught him around the waist, holding tightly now as he wouldn‘t do a moment ago. The feeling of betrayal was as sharp as ever. “Let me go!”

Kurosaki moved as if wanting to help, but Tsuzuki shook his head. “Hisoka, stay back!”

“Tsuzuki! Why are you…” Kazutaka pleaded, hoping that he could reach him somehow. “It’s me!”

“I’m sorry, but please, just calm down, we can explain - “

“There’s nothing to explain!” he cut in. Spying the fuda abandoned on the bed, he twisted and made a grab for it. Holding it up to Tsuzuki‘s face, he said, “I’m sorry, Tsuzuki, but I - !” With a burst of red light, the older man was violently thrown backwards to the floor, dazed. Kazutaka had always been good at using fuda - he had learned from the best.

“Tsuzuki!” Kurosaki cried out.

Now.

As for him…

“Hisoka, huh? Why are you making him call you that? Bastard,“ Kazutaka spat. Again, he lunged for him, thinking that tonight, maybe he’d fulfill that promise to himself to kill Kurosaki once and for all.

Hisoka knew the raging teen was out for his blood, and so he stumbled back into the hall to give himself room for what was going to be a bad fight. Kazutaka, moving like a white panther, flew out into the hall and stopped. They glared, twin chips of silver and green, sizing each other up in the dimmed hall lights.

“You again,” Kazutaka said at last. “Why can’t you stay out of my life?”

He shook his head, any rational argument impossible by this point. “I’m not whoever you think I am.”

“Oh no? Lets see then.”

Finally, Kazutaka drew out his own fuda from a pocket, flinging the scrap of paper to the ground where a small spirit shield materialized and surrounded their section of the hallway. There would be no interruptions. Before it had completely formed, he dashed at Hisoka, fist raised. Hisoka sidestepped out of the path of the punch, but Kurosaki spun and kicked him in the stomach.

He tried not to double over in pain, knowing that if he gave it time it would go away on its own. Except, time wasn’t something he had much of. Instead, Hisoka attacked, summoning the bit of innate power that had first shown itself back on his and Tsuzuki’s first assignment, in front of the documentation room. The following blast sent Kazutaka crashing into the far wall, gaping in silent shock as he tried to catch his breath.

“How did you - ?” The ashen teen rasped, then cut himself off with a snarl, hurtling back at him. Each fought with startling skill - one being raised on the arts and natural talent, the other born from years of experience - and were physically an even match. But any grace that they had begun with fell heavily away as they wrestled, their fists, feet, and blood flying.

“Hisoka!” someone shouted. Tsuzuki was all right. His partner was now pounding on the shield, trying to get through to the brawling pair.

“Bon!” Watari cried out at the same moment, having awoken from all the noise. He turned to his owl. “003, get Tatsumi down here!”

A quick hand snaked out and grabbed Hisoka’s shirt -

And then it happened. It was as if an empathic bomb had gone off inside of Hisoka, shooting pain and anguish throughout his mind and body. He collapsed and clutched his head, trying to keep down the agony threatening to rip his soul apart. It was a wave of pure concentrated emotion, laden with all the hate and anger and hurt he had never dreamt of feeling.

“Let him go!” Tsuzuki ordered, nearly clawing at the magical barrier.

If anything, the pain grew worse. Then he felt himself being lifted and shoved against a hall door. Kazutaka still had him in his grip. The other boy’s face looked pained as his own, if only more controlled.

“What did you just do??” Hisoka choked, voice with a strange hitch to it. Was he crying? He tried to push away, but his feverish limbs wouldn’t do anything but tremble.

“What have you done to Tsuzuki?” demanded Kazutaka. “Why… everything?”

He shook the other teen by the front of his shirt, then slammed him again into the splintering door. Hisoka gasped, confused… frantically, no, angrily trying to rebuild his mental shields from the tide of emotions breaking through from the others. He bucked and twisted, but his weak attempts did nothing against the pale boy.

Reaching back behind him, Hisoka thought Kazutaka was drawing out a weapon tucked in his jeans. Why hadn’t they checked him over for knives or something when they had the chance? That could have been a fatal mistake - instead, though, what his hand came back with was a palm-sized cross which glimmered faintly in the hall lights, gray as gravestone.

“Getting clumsy? Or did you leave it at the church on purpose?” he hissed. “What is it? Did it do something to him? Is that why you look different? Answer me!”

“That’s - “ Hisoka heard Watari sputter, the surprise feeling like icy water, as something dawned on the scientist. “Oh!”

“I’m telling you, I don’t know!” Hisoka growled sluggishly, still in shock, and trying to keep away the emotions of all three people in the hall. Out of all the ‘jitsu he had learned, there must be something. Concentrating, he twitched his fingers in what he hoped was a spell, while keeping his head clear from the assault of rage. A distant part of his mind noted that Tsuzuki was doing the same, fiercely chanting at the shield.

“How about if I show you, then, will that jog your memory?” The hand holding the cross brushed past the young Shinigami’s ear. What was he doing? “You held it up to the door, like this - “

“Bon!” Watari shouted, reaching out. “No, wait!”

Tsuzuki called out one last word. There was a surge of power, and the barrier around the hallway broke, but a little too late. The corridor exploded with light, as if the sun had decided to appear inside the building, blinding everyone. There was an eerie howl of wind like air being sucked through a straw, only this straw was the size of a speeding truck. The solid wood disappeared from behind him, and Hisoka flailed helplessly as he was sent spiraling back towards nothingness.

There was a jolt of panic from Watari and Tsuzuki, and he knew that they also were forcefully being pulled in. The last thing he remembered seeing before plunging into the bright hot light was Kazutaka, frosty skin nearly transparent, shoving them both one final step further into the portal.

*

For a little while, everything was quiet.

It was nice, and very peaceful, like a winter night. Hisoka was alone, which was okay. Just him and no one’s emotions to sort through.

Was he asleep? He could feel himself coming to, stirring. Hearing something.

“Tsuzuki, I don’t know what’s wrong, but snap out of it!”

“Calm down! I’m sorry, I don‘t know how you know me, but - ”

“I’m your partner! We’ve been together for years! Can‘t I get through to you? I… I…!”

“Ka… Kazutaka, is it? You should do as Tsuzuki says. Please, calm down.”

“Let me go, please…”

Hisoka blinked his eyes open, finding himself facing Tsuzuki and Watari. They were keeping the struggling boy back, both holding an arm. Though the empath could clearly see that Kazutaka was terrified and nearing some unknown breaking point, Hisoka could feel nothing of it. He remained blissfully blank, watching them through deadened senses, disconnected even from his own feelings. He needn’t worry - couldn’t right then - but it would come back soon enough, and that’s when he’d feel like shit.

“Where…” he started to say, sitting up. The others froze, Kazutaka silently glaring as Tsuzuki and Watari seemed to sigh in relief. “Where are we?”

“Are you all right?” asked Tsuzuki, tone instantly concerned. The boy in his grip flinched, and the look grew evermore darker. Hisoka only nodded in answer.

Watari looked around. Somehow, they were outside, staring at the crisp, unpolluted dawn. They sat in a massively hilly field of overgrown grass, none of the trademark sakura trees or buildings in sight. He frowned at the unnatural stillness - no birds flying, no insects making noise, but only the soft hiss of wind that could barely wake the grass. There were familiar mountains off in the distance, but those too were… somewhat green.

Behind them, there was a door, supposedly the one from which they came. A simple wooden door and frame unattached to any known wall, a surreal brown monolith in a landscape of green and blue. If he reached out to turn the knob, it would lead no place.

Shimmering faintly on the ground was the stone cross, almost hidden beneath all the grass.

“This… is… “ Watari realized, eyes wide. He let go of the boy and leapt to his feet, trusting that Tsuzuki would keep Kazutaka from Hisoka. “Wonderful! Oh, wow, where are we?! Yes, yes, we’re totally… utterly… somewhere else!”

He turned to the others, grinning, arms akimbo. They blinked at his declaration, completely missing his point.

Hisoka was the first to break the stunned silence. “Ah, Watari-san… we know that.”

“No, no, no, you don‘t understand,” he said, bending down to grasp the cross and then holding it up. “Everything looks different, but see those mountains over there? Do you recognize them? We’re still in Japan! Maybe Meifu, even - we’re in the exact same spot we left. But. But ~ !” The scientist resisted the urge to begin laughing in joy at the discovery.

Hisoka, gaining back his impatience, said, “What are you trying to say?”

“But, we’re in a different reality. A whole parallel universe!”

“Are we?” Tsuzuki gaped. “Are you sure?”

“See this? This? See?” He brought the cross close for their inspection. “Kazutaka, Tsuzuki, Hisoka. I can explain everything!” Then after a deliberate pause, he added, “I think.”

Continuing on, he knelt down to the silver-haired teen. “Kazutaka, when and where did you get this?”

Kazutaka frowned, shifting his gaze to the dirt. “Kurosaki left it behind. We were at that church in Nagasaki, and he did that thing to the door… but we didn‘t end up anywhere different.”

“But you went through the door?” he pressed.

“Yes.”

“Why did he leave it?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped, twitching in Tsuzuki‘s firm grip. “Ask him yourself.”

Watari marveled at the sudden flash of insight in Tsuzuki’s eyes. The dark haired man turned Kazutaka around, gently asking, “Why are you so young?”

The teenager clenched his fists around the sleeve’s of Tsuzuki’s hospital robe, which he hadn’t had a chance to change out of. “…What do you mean?”

“You’re more than thirty years old, aren’t you?”

“Tsuzuki… I died when I was seventeen,” he said softly. “I’m a Shinigami.”

Surprise managed to worked its way through the blank fog that was Hisoka’s empathy. “You… You are?”

“And what about you,” Kazutaka retorted. “Why are you so small? I don’t remember you being so weak, either.”

Hisoka managed to bristle at the remark, the start of a headache brewing at his temples. “I’m dead, you brat,” he added bleakly. “You were the one that killed me.”

“What?“ He jerked, and Tsuzuki clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Impossible - “

“We’ve fought. Where are my bruises? The cuts?” Hisoka stood, his skin was flawless, and body already healed. “And if I look as different as you think, how did you recognize me?”

“It-it was your eyes…” Kazutaka stammered, doubt coloring his tone.

“You have the wrong person.”

“No, no, you’re lying - ”

Watari stepped in, smiling sympathetically. “This has been all a mistake, Kazutaka, do you know why we don’t remember you? We can’t. It’s because, we’re not the people of your world. Until yesterday, we have never seen you before, or rather, never met you you.”

Kazutaka shook his head, not wanting to believe it. No, this was all a sick game Kurosaki was playing, it had to be - and the person holding him had to be his partner. The man he had been searching for the last months. His partner, his Tsuzuki, his -

It was only when the strong hand touched his cheek that Kazutaka realized he was babbling outloud.

“Tsuzuki…” he pleaded.

“I’m so sorry,” Tsuzuki answered. “But I’m not who you think I am. I‘m not him.”

“But you have to be…“

“I’m not,” he only repeated, genuinely sad for him. His eyes reflected the gentle concern he showed everyone, but nothing deeper.

It was then when Kazutaka felt his heart stop, worse than any second death. He shook his head in defeat, tears falling, and sagged against the man he did not know.

*

With more to explain, and several new worlds to wonder about, Watari didn’t want to return home just quite yet. By the movement of the sun, he guessed it was an hour later when he could finally explain to them about the cross - the key.

“A few years ago when I was researching cursed items,” he started, “I came across a reference to this. A key created to open a dimensional gate from every kind of doorway, be it cupboard, cabinet, closet, maybe even the refrigerator! Each door leads to a different reality, one where such-and-such events might have occurred, changing the whole course of history. The possibilities are limitless.”

His audience was attentive, if less enthusiastic. Tsuzuki and Hisoka were resting on the flattened circle of grass they had made, and though they sat without touching, there was a relaxed air of intimacy between them that anyone would be blind to miss. So Kazutaka sat off to the side, back towards them and silent, but by the way he would almost turn his head once in a while Watari was sure he was listening.

“Why would anyone make something like this?” Tsuzuki asked.

“Think of the worlds you could find.” He stepped back and swept his arms over the land with its endless desert of hills. “Hellish places, or heavenly ones, and everything in between. That is why this key was made - one man's search for paradise. A priest who wanted to find the perfect world.”

“Did he ever find it?” Hisoka glanced around, rubbing at his eyes, expression having slowly soured over the last half hour. Though he knew the boy didn’t drink, it looked as if he were suffering from a hangover.

“If this cross being in our hands is any indication… no,” he stated. Watari rubbed the back of his neck, absently brushing the vacant spot on his shoulder where something warm should have been.

“What happened to him?”

“From what I remember, he got trapped in the different dimensions. You see, if something happens to the door you came from - if it’s destroyed, or damaged bad enough - there is no way to get back. His own door must have gotten broken.” He stopped there, letting that little fact ring in the air. Suddenly, the prospect of going back didn’t seem too bad. The wind picked up, the place seeming less inviting and peaceful than before. “He spent the rest of his life wandering, not for a paradise, but for his home.”

Imagine, arriving to an endless number of worlds so much like your own, with people who you hope would embrace you, only to find another like yourself. Another someone, a shard of the path you could have lead, be it happy or terrible, and those loved ones you think you knew… they did not know you. After time, how lonely would it be?

“We need to get back.” Kazutaka had stood and walked up to them, eyes wide. The other two were on their feet immediately, cautious around the boy. “We’re leaving, now,” he added more forcefully, an odd note seeping into his voice, one that trembled.

“I don’t see why we need to stay any longer - “ Watari said, but then the teen had reached out to… to grab the key or maybe take his wrist, the scientist wasn’t sure, but Hisoka jumped in.

The young empath glowered. “You don’t order people around - ”

“No, I mean, we have to leave, right now! Look!“ Kazutaka pointed to a far off hill.

It was moving. Not just one but many, all curling and elongating into elegant rings, resembling less like scattered bumps on the ground, but like the gentle curves and folds in a piece of cloth. The wind grew louder and, in fact, really did sound like a long, low, seductive hiss.

Hisoka stiffened, his empathy recovered just enough to faintly pick up on the immense presence just as its head rose above the shifting mass, a long and tapered neck topped with a wedge-shaped face the size of a van.

A snake. An emerald, fluid, enormous snake.

Dear God.

The thin whip of its gray tongue swept the air. Hisoka stood transfixed in horrified awe, hypnotized by its vast length and piercing eyes as black and hollow as a night without the comfort of stars. It came towards them, slowly, but in reality moving much too fast, and the earth rumbled in its sun-warmed wake. If Tsuzuki had not taken him by the waist and nearly pitched him into the glowing portal Watari had opened, Hisoka might have stayed there forever until those eyes had come and swallowed his whole world up into darkness.

***
To Be Continued
***