Lifeblood A Yami no Matsuei fanfic by NeekerBreeker (NeekerBreeker @ fanficcer.zzn.com) Disclaimer: Other people own Yami no Matsuei. I own a cuddly TsuXHi pillow. Rating: So far PG-13, but will get R-ish. Warnings: Beat it, homophobe, before I send Raven the Great Ukenizer after you. And if you're suffering from a severe fear of ghosts, bugger off back to your Mummy right now. Summary: How easy it is to become dependent on pain and not even notice it. Pairing: Tsuzuki x Hisoka Feedback: You got some constructive criticism? Gimme gimme. Of course, if you just want to feed my ego and tell me you like my ficcie, I wouldn't say no. ~_^ Blabber: This is an AU gap that takes place after King of Swords arc. I know now they went to the hot springs afterwards. But since the manga differs from the anime in various other points too, I decided to ignore it for this story. My apologies, I love the manga but I just don't feel like rewriting two chapters for it. So this is basically animeverse. Let's keep that in mind. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter One: Repentance Such a simple job. I could almost hear Tatsumi saying, "If you can't handle stuff like this, I'll pretend you're not from our office" when he briefed us this morning. Sounded like the usual go-there-and-bring-back-the-tortured-soul stuff. I could just see the paperwork. Oh man, paperwork even after I'm dead! What else can go wrong? I never really want to complain to him, however, since he kind of reflects it right back. It's not Tatsumi's fault the business is slow. And I suppose he didn't invent bureaucracy either, though sometimes he acts in a way that gives the thought the benefit of doubt. So, an easy job, he tells us, go there and knock yourselves out. You told me you wanted work, any work. I looked up from my piece of raspberry pie (too much filling) and tried my best to glare at Hisoka. Was the kid a work-a-holic? Mental note: he's hanging around Tatsumi too much. "What?" he had the nerve to ask. "I need to take you out more." I proceeded to glare at him, though I suspect I looked more like a disgruntled bulldog than a scolding older brother. Have to practice on that. "You had something else to do?" Hisoka inquired, a rhetorical question which I didn't bother to answer, instead taking another bite of my raspberry pie. Then I noticed that half of it had mysteriously disappeared and saw the door flung closed after Watari, the sly devil, and forgot about Hisoka in my quest for pie. We got going as ordered, and I did my best to act grumpy for being pulled to the other side of the country when I was still having trouble recovering from our last case. A couple of hellish days on a ship with a mysterious murderer and Muraki, which then proved to be the one and the same, surprise surprise. I would've needed a real cruise after that one. It really wore me out. Not to mention Hisoka. I've never seen him break into tears before. He was so violently crushed after Tsubaki-hime's death that I feared he would do something dangerous, in that state of mind. I've kept an eye on him ever since. The kid has a dramatic streak that could make him, I don't know, self-destructive or something. It's my place to see that he won't go over the edge. The place I seemed to take the moment they assigned him as my partner. It's okay with me. I guess I've always wanted to take care of someone younger than me. Gives me a certain sense of repentance. Hisoka isn't really big on conversation, so I settle with silently watching him as he stares out of the window of the train. I think he's falling asleep. I want to tell him to go to sleep, but we'll be in our destination in ten minutes. Stretching my legs, I turn my eyes away and try to concentrate on work. I should've checked out the timetable of professor Harvey, the foreigner who seems to have his Japanese wife's ghost following him, before we left. When we arrive at his place, it'll be about 7 PM and he'll most likely be home, which will make it nearly impossible to sneak into his house and look for the letters that tie his wife to him. She wrote her husband a letter, to tell him how she hated the way he treated her, how she felt she died every time he hit her. He never found the letter. But he wrote his own, to apologise, which he meant to bury with his wife so that she might forgive him in the afterlife. He was too much of a coward. The letter was never finished. It pains him, and it pains his poor wife. That much we've gathered on the case. Now only thing that remains is to capture the vengeful ghost, find the letters and burn them to free them both, the hero and heroine of yet another tragedy, another story of death. Sometimes this work gets so repetitive. Hisoka is asleep now, his breathing even. He's leaning his cheek against the window, slumped on his side. Poor kid. I guess he hasn't got much sleep lately. I hate to think I have to wake him up soon. I hear a cheerful female voice announcing that the train is now arriving at our destination. I nudge Hisoka, and he rubs his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, and we step out to the evening twilight of the city. The air is clean, however, and there's not that much noise. We're in the rich district. "Ready to brave Harvey's ghost wife?" I ask and shoot a wide smile at the still yawning Hisoka. "As long as I can get to sleep after it," he mutters and starts walking. It's probably a lost cause, but I ask anyway. "You haven't got much sleep after the last job, have you?" He looks straight ahead, although I'm sure he sees nothing interesting there. "Yes. ...No. Why?" "I'm just worried." "I'll be fine. Look, isn't that the one we're looking for?" He points at a street sign. Good save. "I think so. You still think we should go talk to this Harvey guy?" The idea discomforts me a little. Harvey most likely expects his guests to speak English and I've never been too good at linguistics. "I can do the talking," Hisoka replies, apparently reading my mind. "Maybe I could pose as a Psychology student. I already know what I want to ask him." How did he know Harvey is a professor of Psychology? The kid's magic, I'm telling you. I mean, even beside the obvious. I nod and smile. Smiling is easy when he once again proves how well he can read me. "Good. I'll check out the house while you keep him busy. Then we'll go eat something, contact the office and you'll get your sleep. How does that sound?" "Don't take any chances," he warns me, and a flash of leaf-green eyes tells me he's serious. "We have plenty of time to come by tomorrow when he's at the university." "Yes, of course," I say and laugh, "don't worry about me. You just do your part, and I'll do mine." We separate a block away from the house. Hisoka heads to the door, and I circle behind the house. One flying leap and I land on the roof, making as little noise as I can. I peek down over the edge of the roof. The window below is open and when I hop on the windowsill, the breath of air I make sends a few papers flying on the desk in front of the window. The room is quite big, but the bookshelves covering its walls and the piles of maps and papers on the floor make it look stuffed and small. Bingo, this looks like a study. I dive inside and start going through the drawers and books. If only the old trick would work and pushing a certain book would open a secret locker... The door to the room is ajar, I suddenly realise and pause in my searching. I sneak to put my ear to it, just to make sure. I hear someone talking downstairs. Good, I'm safe. Better not close the door; this way I can hear if someone is coming. I attack the boring-looking books again, checking if there's a secret hiding place behind them. After shuffling half of the books and maps out of the way and putting them a- right again, I become convinced that this isn't the way to find the letters. Suppose Harvey's wife put hers in some place only he knew? Behind her photograph, or something? I turn my gaze back to the desk. Unfortunately, there are no photos on it, and the shelves cover all the walls, so no mysterious paintings either. I open all the drawers once more, just to prove that there's nothing attached to their walls. I even check under the desk, but find only dust. Right. Time to check the other rooms. Maybe his bedroom proves to be more - A soft thump, like someone trying to sneak but stubbing their toe on something. I spin around, reaching for an ofuda, but see nothing. I walk over to the door, and, just in case, listen if I can hear someone outside, spying on me. There doesn't seem to be anyone there, though. Whew. The soft murmur can still be heard from downstairs; Hisoka's got his act going quite well. Okay; I better hurry up and get to mine. The door handle is cold against my sweating palm as I grab it. Why am I so nervous? It's like I can almost feel someone's presence, but not quite. Could the yuurei be somewhere in the vicinity without me noticing? I pull at the door, but it apparently opens outward. I push at it, but it still doesn't open. Come to think of it, this door was ajar a moment before. And it's a heavy door, I'm certain no air current coming from the window could have shut it. What...? I lean down and peek through the keyhole after soundlessly removing the key, wondering if the door is stuck or if there's someone blocking it. Then it dawns to me. The door is locked. And the key is here, so that means it was locked *from inside*. I spin around but of course see nothing; yet someone must be in the room with me. The key trembles in my hand. How could I not hear it turned? How can I not sense the yuurei's presence even now that I know it's here? Maybe it's not a yuurei, then. A Western ghost? That would explain why I can't gauge its presence or powers. Under some other circumstances, I would say that it's quite interesting; that a Japanese woman would love her British husband so much she actually turned into a foreign ghost. Now I just want to find a way to get rid of it. This is beyond Hisoka and my abilities; we need help from the Western department. My kekkai might not work against it, but I squeeze the ofuda in my hand, just to feel that I have some control of the situation. The air in the room feels thick and I'm almost panting. It feels like it's warmer in here than before. A sudden change in the air; there's a flash of orange colour, a sense of movement, like a silent wind passing through the room. I start chanting the magic incantation under my breath as the ghost takes a more and more visible form. I back down against the door. I'm not going to let this ghost get to Hisoka and Harvey. So far it has its back to me; now I can see the poor dead soul in all its current form. The woman is still see-through, but I could count each carefully embroidered chrysanthemum on the dressing gown it wears. It - or should I say she - has her brown hair put up on a messy bun, and it appears she is leaning over the desk, as if arranging the papers, murmuring under her breath. She seems so life-like, if you ignore the transparency. Different from Japanese yuurei, who have been turned into monsters by their hatred. Somehow her life-like appearance makes it all the more creepy. As I stand there, behind my kekkai, hoping she won't notice me, she suddenly straightens and turns around. What chills my blood in this lonely, slumped figure is that her mouth is slightly open and a mixture of blood, saliva and vomit runs down her chin, dripping on the floor and disappearing. All of a sudden, she starts making pained, strangled noises, like a person who is trying to cough but is not quite able to do it. She takes a step towards me, although I can't see her feet. "Stay back", I warn her, faintly recalling that sometimes Western ghosts will communicate with living souls. Maybe another dead soul wearing a mortal body won't be an exception. "I am not the one you are looking for. I'm here to help you." She doesn't show any sign of having heard me. Her almost maniacal eyes are fixed on me, and I have a feeling she is here for one reason only: to hunt down her husband. I can't feel her hatred as I would were she a yuurei, but she doesn't seem to know anything but bitter revenge. The rivulet of sweat that travels down my temple now feels cold; the sudden heat wave is replaced by a freezing wind that makes me shiver. I realise my breath is misting, and that gives me quite a scare. "*Stop*!" I finally blurt out in English, my voice wavering. I've encountered terrifying creatures during my 70 years of work as a shinigami, but this cold - this mindless, numbing cold - is somehow one of the worst. Why am I still here? Why haven't I already leaped to the window? The realisation strikes me like a freezing hand that grips my heart. *I can't*. My feet don't move. A moment of panic, and then I stand frozen, and can only watch as my kekkai fades away, useless. The ofuda slips from my hand to the floor, and I barely notice it. My hands are getting numb with cold, and very heavy, and she's getting closer, and there is *absolutely nothing* I can do, I realise with blatant horror. Then, for a fleeting second, I feel a chill so cold it burns, and I get so numb I can't feel any part of myself. The last flutter of consciousness speaks of cold fingers on my throat, and then it vanishes. I disappear into darkness. *** Chapter Two: Echoes It takes me half an hour to find a damn phone. I told Tatsumi-san it would be wise to invest in at least one mobile phone, but apparently money's a bit tight right now. As it has been for years. The phone box is located in a corner of the park; at least not completely in plain sight. I have to rest a while to catch my breath before starting to look for change. It takes considerable effort to remain invisible and block away nasty visions I'm getting from Tsuzuki's mind; I'm simply out of energy, so I turn myself and Tsuzuki visible. I doubt no one sees us anyway, it's a rich district and around eight o'clock, everyone's home eating dinner. As I'd like to be. I let Tsuzuki fall down on the bench that is located a few metres away from the box and take a deep breath, glad to be rid of the horrible flashes of a dead woman's face as she approaches, of cold fear that pierces my mind. Thank the gods Tsuzuki's unconscious; the feelings and visions are blurry at best. He slumps on one side, his cheek meeting the dirty wooden surface. My brow is damp with sweat when I brush hair from my eyes. Tsuzuki's so very heavy and limp and cold. I told you. I told you not to take any chances, and what do you of course go ahead and do? Harvey's seen us now, and so has the yuurei - no, not yuurei; something else, but very dead nonetheless. I can still feel her eyes burning in my mind, but thank every higher power there is she didn't get to touch me. With all that hatred in her eyes alone, the flood of her feelings could've killed me. I feel a shiver go down my spine, and I hug myself to keep the cold fear away. There's no way we can go back now, hell, we're lucky if Harvey doesn't send the police after us. I'm too tired to concern myself with the matter. We screwed up, totally, but at least I managed to... at least we're here now. My fingers are shaking when I fish coins from my pocket. Now to inform the office - they'll send someone to deal with that ghost woman. They'd also better send someone who knows what to do about Tsuzuki, because I have no idea. He's cold all over and hardly breathing, and I can't make his eyes stay closed. It looks creepy, and I try to avoid looking at his face. I'm not shaking because I'm scared. It's because I'm hungry, and worried, and have had to practically carry Tsuzuki at least three blocks from Harvey's house. A hundred yen. This'll do. I leave Tsuzuki in his slumped position and go to the box to make the call. I listen to the dialing tone for what seems like ages. Seconds creep by like hours, and it must be minutes before I finally convince myself that no one is going to answer and hang up, not bothering to take my money back. There must be some emergency situation, and everyone's out taking care of it, thinking that we won't have any trouble with our ridiculously easy assignment. Great. Just great... I let myself fall down on the bench next to Tsuzuki. I'll just rest a minute and then... haul him up and to a hotel somewhere, at least I'll get him inside and somewhere where it's warm. Maybe this'll just pass, and he'll wake up and ask for shortcake like nothing's happened. I must hope so. Hope is one of the few things I have at the moment. My musings are interrupted when Tsuzuki suddenly falls down from his sitting position and slumps sideways, his head landing first on my shoulder and then sliding down to rest on my thigh. I jump a little at the contact, and gasp at the sudden flash of confusion and fear that echoes from Tsuzuki's mind to mine, threatening to flood over my own thoughts. He's fighting inner ghosts now, and his body feels like it's frozen stiff. Luckily he's facing away from me, so that I don't have to see those staring cold eyes. And Tsuzuki's eyes are usually so *warm*... "Okay," I say aloud, to focus my thoughts back on the situation at hand. "Let's move out. Come on – " I sneak my hands under his arms and pull him up, then throw his other arm over my shoulders. He's still heavy, but I can manage. The bus stop I saw on our way here - it was not far away. We'll make it. On the bus I go through Tsuzuki's pockets to find the office credit card. It's for emergency cases, and this one really counts as one. Near the stop where I decide to get off I find a phone box with a phonebook and go through the nearby hotels and motels. Tatsumi-san will never let me hear the end of it if I choose even a moderately expensive place, so I settle on a cheap guest house that's located nearby. The neighbourhood looks a little shady, but at least no one looks at me funny when I half carry Tsuzuki through the darkening streets. The man behind the desk doesn't ask me anything when I ask for a room for two. I specify that I want a room with two beds and he quickly swipes the key he offered to me from my hand and gives me another with a weird look I don't particularly like. "Would you like to call a doctor?" he asks, pointing meaningfully at the still unconscious Tsuzuki. "That's not necessary," I stammer, forcing my exhausted brain to think up something. "M-my cousin drank too much, he'll be all right in a minute." "I see." The man slowly nods, not believing a word I say. "Well, I wish you a good night, then. Please keep in mind that the room should be empty at 10." "Where is the phone?" I ask, straining my muscles to keep Tsuzuki from crumbling to the floor. "I must order some food." "The phone is over there round the corner, but I can make the order for you while you settle in," the man says, and suddenly he doesn't seem all that bad. Actually that offer just made him one of my best friends. "Thank you," I say wholeheartedly, and give him my last yen coins. They won't buy me a feast, but anything warm will do at this point. The room is small but clean, with two futon beds placed on either side of it and a nightstand between them. On the other side of the room there's a small table; nothing else fits in the room. I let Tsuzuki fall down on the other futon and practically fall right on my butt on the floor, exhausted. Finally, quiet. He must be having some ugly dreams. The same hazy visions over and over again... I throw my denim jacket somewhere and flop down on the other futon, resting my eyes for a bit. When did I last have a good night's sleep? Feels like it was ages ago. I could sleep for a year... no, no I couldn't. Food, first. And Tsuzuki. I open my eyes and turn my head to get a look at his unmoving form, slumped there on his back in the exact same position I left him. What kind of partner am I? He's hardly breathing and I'm worrying about my lack of sleep. It's a matter of work ethics, for one thing; he watches my back and I watch his. When it fails, it's up to the one who's left standing. Which is mostly Tsuzuki, now that I come to think of it. I get up on my hands and knees and crawl over to him. That haunted look is heart-wrenching. Tsuzuki never looks like that; he's always hopeful, always has a glint in his eye, no matter what. It used to puzzle me before I understood it wasn't just a way of blocking off the evils of this world but also something that came naturally for him. That he never smiles a fake smile, or feigns optimism. It's become a slogan for him: he's always serious. To the point of being obsessed, sometimes, but no one's perfect. That, and he's also a terrible tease sometimes. I think he'd like to be sort of a big brother to me. Yeah right. One naive, slack-off big brother who could just sit around gobbling cakes all day... I should get the trenchcoat off, at least. I mean, I can't just let him lie there, practically frozen, and do nothing. I wince at the thought of having to touch him and be attacked by the fear and visions, but it can't be helped. Surprisingly, when I lay one tentative hand on his shoulder, I sense nothing. Finally there's peace in his mind, or so I hope, at least. I lift him up enough to slip the trenchcoat off his shoulders and take it off, tossing it somewhere. After a bit of hesitation, I do the same to the suit jacket. It feels kind of awkward doing this while he's unconscious - not that it wouldn't if he was *awake*! - but he can't very well sleep in his jacket, can he, and besides, it'd be all wrinkled when he woke up... I'm making excuses, for who? No one would question me here, there's only Tsuzuki and it takes some effort to get him angry. Only Tsuzuki. I hastily turn my eyes away - what's all this willy-nilly about? - and take off his shoes, then pull the covers over him. He would do the same for me. Actually he would do everything he could, he always does. I suppose if it was me lying on my back, frozen and staring into space, he would've already called every damn division of Enma-Chou and managed to get us home somehow. He takes everything so seriously. My fingers find his and lace through them, painfully aware of the cold that radiates from them. Tsuzuki takes care of me. No one's ever done so much. And he does it without asking for anything in return. That's one of his finer qualities, one that even sometimes makes me forget he's such a glutton and foolishly reckless. Suddenly I feel my cheeks starting to grow hot. What is this? Why am I embarrassed, as if caught doing something I shouldn't have been doing? It was all true. And yet... those are truths I've never told anyone, not me or anyone else. Tsuzuki's hand feels so cold in mine, and I squeeze it hard, to feel the blood still flowing in his veins. Maybe I should tell him sometimes that I appreciate what he does, for me and for everyone around him. I never give him any credit. It's the least I could do... A soft knock on the door. I jump up on my feet and go open it. The man - seemingly the owner and only employee - is standing at the door. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I just wanted you to know that I ordered some gyuudon for you, they'll be here in a moment. Would you like to have a cup of tea while you're waiting? Some other guests just boiled some water in the kitchen, and they say there's plenty of it." "That would be great, thanks." I nod my head and try to pull the sides of my mouth up for a smile. Tea, that's a good idea. That'll warm Tsuzuki up when he wakes up. He'll wake up soon. I know it. I bite my lower lip, but stop at the kitchen door when I realise it'll start bleeding if I continue. Tsuzuki will wake up soon, and that's the end of it! When I return to the room, and look at Tsuzuki lying there, still not having moved an inch, something very unusual happens. My chest tightens and I realise it's pity that seems to momentarily stop my heart from beating, raw sympathy I don't remember feeling for so long. I'm afraid. I've never seen anything like this happen to anyone. Who knows what those Western ghosts might do to a shinigami? It hurts to know so clearly that there is very little I can do; no, nothing at all. To be unable to help someone who's always been able to help me. I gulp down a lump in my throat and go to put the steaming mug on the nightstand. Maybe I could try making him gulp down the hot liquid, even if he's not awake. There must be something I can do. Must be. And yet, I feel so useless and wretched right now that I can't think up what it might be, so I just clutch his hand in mine again. It's all I dare to do. Actually, what I'd really like to do would be to crawl next to him and lend him some of my own body heat. Not that it might work, but there's nothing else I can give him. For long moments, I just sit there, head hung and fingers shakily stroking Tsuzuki's cold hand. I must look like I'm mourning. Tsuzuki certainly would pass for a corpse. He hasn't warmed up at all, despite the comfortable room and the thick blanket covering him. I bit my poor lip again when a wave of despair washes over me, and suddenly my eyes mist over. I'm so useless! So *fucking* useless! I can't even keep my partner alive, but he gives me a *life*, keeps me from slipping into the dark memories of the past. I let his hand fall to the floor and rub my eyes before a tear manages to escape. Tsuzuki doesn't need my tears, I have to keep my head clear, think of something, something... Then I suddenly notice it. Tsuzuki is still lying there on his back, but his head has turned to one side, and his eyes are closed. His whole expression has changed; he now appears to be in deep sleep. Hope flutters in my chest at the sight. Now he looks like Tsuzuki again, and his eyes aren't staring at some horrors unseen. His hair is sticking to his sweaty brow, and I get the strangest thought that he's *melting*. My hand flies to touch his face on its own accord, and yes, his cheek feels warmer. I brush the hair off his face and watch him for a moment, a secret smile spreading on my face. The relief allows my own sleepiness to crawl back in, and I stifle a yawn. I better get ready for bed before that food arrives, so that I can just eat and then go straight to sleep. I take off my blue jeans and socks, and for a while consider leaving the t-shirt on, but then decide against it - it's warm enough in the room, and I have to wear this shirt tomorrow as well. I hazard a glance at Tsuzuki, who looks exactly the same as a second ago, but I feel oddly self- conscious nevertheless. When I turn away, I can just barely hear a soft sigh. He's starting to breathe normally. The owner stops by to give me my change and gyuudon, and I attack it like I've never seen food before. It would be pointless to leave any for Tsuzuki, since it'll be cold if I don't eat it now, so I gobble it all down and then retreat to my own futon, somehow unable to get my eyes off Tsuzuki, waiting for further signs of awakening. Seeing none, I finally let my eyes slip shut, and before I know it, I'm sleeping more soundly than I've slept for years. *** Chapter Three: Coldburn I'm alone. I'm wandering through the streets of Nagasaki, the familiar streets I've strolled along so many times I could find my way with my eyes closed. It's a perfect day; the sun is shining brightly, people are chattering and laughing and eating ice cream, and I have all the time in the world. It's not until I stop by an ice cream stand that I realise something is wrong. The man selling the ice cream looks at me, with indifferent eyes, and then ignores me completely. When I try to get his attention again, he pretends I'm not even there. People push and shove to get past me, and finally I give up and walk away. I realise I feel even the most forceful pushes as mere brief, cold touches; it seems like I have a shell that prevents anything from really getting to me. I know there is a road under my feet, but the sun-warmed bricks and even the grass at the side of the road feel like cold, hard stone. I swim through the city, and everyone flows by me, their touches distant and eyes cold. After a while I see the colours have started to fade too, along with the real sensations, and everything is painted in dull, cold tones, and the sun is the colour of pale moon. People's faces turn from uncaring to disdainful. Instead of hurrying past me, they stop and stare, their eyes full of unmasked contempt, and even the brief, cool touches are suddenly denied to me. I don't deserve them. I disgust them. I can hardly feel the ground under my feet, and struggle to find something to grab, something that is real and there and proves that I can still touch... And now I truly am alone. I'm running. How is it possible to do something so *evil*, so wrong, that would make them treat me like this? I don't know what I've done, but I'm *sorry*, I'm so very, very sorry, and I wish they would let me pay for my sins. But even that is denied to me, and now I'm screaming, just to hear a voice other than an accusation, and the cold numb feeling is spreading --- Someone! There must be - it can't be - Hisoka! And when I see the hate on his face it's somehow the worst, the bitter accusation. I fall on my knees, finding no reason to try to get away anymore. The cold wind reaches me, the accusing voices, the scornful eyes. I let it wash over me, unable to do anything to stop it. It washes away all that I am, everything. All essence seems to flee me... nothing stays behind. And now everything is just an ice blue blur... I gasp for breath. C-cold... White ceiling over me. My hand is on my brow, and I move the fingers instinctively, and they are shaking slightly, but definitely not frozen. There's a thick blanket covering my shivering body, and I feel somewhat numb. I have no strength for much anything, and I close my eyes. I'm cold. I concentrate on just breathing for a long while. A horrible dream... not much more so than most of my dreams, come to think of it, but... I don't know if I'm awake yet, and that makes me so very scared. I may be cold, but I-I'm not alone, am I? Not so terribly alone... I can still feel, and touch, and there is still something I can do... Gathering all my strength, I sit up and push the blanket off. It did little to warm me, anyway. This cold comes from inside. What is this place, and where is everyone? Where is Hisoka? I'm still in the mortal world. How did I come to this place? Everything looks white and cold, and I can't hear anything except my own ragged breaths... And then it strikes me. I haven't woken up yet. I struggle against the silence, the emotionless calm that surrounds me. The mists shatter. The cold flees. I scream, although I have no voice. A sudden pain pierces my hand, a real and tangent feeling that I've already almost forgotten existed. It's burning me, as real and true as the sudden feel of blood flowing in my veins again. The warmth spreads from the tips of my fingers, rushing through my veins, searching for my heart. I feel myself sighing... or perhaps it is just the sound of blood boiling. It hurts, yes, it burns like hellfire, but it's so much better than the empty cold. Someone is near. I'm not alone. *** Next Part go back