Puppet Master by Gaki

AUTHOR'S NOTE: More picking on Hisoka. If you do not understand this part of the story then please read carefully.

Hisoka's mother, Rui, was in truth not his real mother but his mother's twin sister. His real mother was Kasane who died, because she killed herself. Why she killed herself? Well, for that you'll have to go find another person to ask because I'm really not sure as to why she did that. So Hisoka's father had to marry Kasane's twin sister Rui so no one outside the household would know. And, Hisoka's real mother died before he knew anything about it so he doesn't know about her. Also, I do not know how one is born with empathic abilities, so in this story, Hisoka's powers grow slowly day by day. As a result, in the beginning he could only hear bits and pieces of a person's thought. So he didn't 'hear' another's person’s thoughts since he was young because that wouldn't work in this story.

*sweats* I hope that wasn't confusing.

Also, hopefully the reason why Muraki says Hisoka is 'broken'. We're actually getting somewhere! ... Or perhaps maybe not. Oh, right. This part was also written while listening to Evanescence - Fields of Innocence over and over again obsessively because it is so hauntingly beautiful.

~~ remembered ~~

I want to go back to believing in everything and knowing nothing at all
-- Evanescence - Fields of Innocence

Every one knows the bond between infant and parent is a strong and unbreakable bond.

The trust the infant, the child, puts in it's mother and father is the most heavy and innocent of it's kind. The child believes in it's caretaker. The child believes that it's caretaker, it's beloved parent, shall and will always protect it.

That they will always love him. They will provide him with everything he will ever need. They shall teach him things he needed to know; they will be his teachers in life.

And he will give them unconditional love.

The trust a child has for his parents is what keeps him believing in everything.

If for some reason that trust is broken, then everything the child believes in will be shattered.

It was cold; that much he knew but for some reason he didn't care. The room in which he was held captive was cast in a warm light from the sun shining through that single window; yet it was still cold. His skin tingled as the marks, the disgusting red marks, on his body slowly started to fade. He was glad it was fading. It meant he wasn't near him at the moment. It meant he was alone; that he wouldn't have to listen to the nonsense the man loved to talk about.

He just wanted to be alone. To listen to the world outside the window and not have another's thoughts in his mind.

It was slightly amusing, really. He probably would've smirked, not laugh - he couldn't remember the last time he'd laugh- but smirk, if he wasn't in so much mental agony.

He was exactly in the same state he'd been before he'd died.

Alone and cold in a room. Locked away from the outside world.

He closed his tired eyes, shallow breaths making his chest rise and fall in a slow rhythm. If he concentrated enough on it, really think back on that time and date, he could remember when the two most important people in his living world had loved him.

He could almost remember...

"You honestly think this is all about you, don't you?" Muraki mused as he absentmindly stirred the copper liquid in his cup. "That when it all comes down to it, I'm doing this so I could have you, right?"

Tsuzuki remained silent, seemingly ignoring the questions but in truth, he was thinking them over. Did he even need to ask him that? Of course it's what he thought! Why else would Muraki, who after the first incident in Nagasaki, had over looked Hisoka as nothing but an annoying boy he had once raped and killed? To get to me. Because you know, Muraki, you know I can't stand the thought of someone close to me in pain. So you used him. You used him like you're going to use anyone else I come across to get to me.

Another moment passed as Muraki set the spoon down and smirked a bit.

"Correct." He said, and for an insane moment, Tsuzuki wondered if Muraki'd heard what he had been thinking. "When it all comes down to it, it's all because of you. That's what I adore about you, Tsuzuki-san. How you can take it if it is you alone who suffers but if someone else so much as bleeds before you, you break down and curse yourself. It is your self-sacrificing nature that draws me to you." He smiled a bit, full of nothing but want. "You are a masochist if I'd ever seen one."

Despite himself, Tsuzuki felt his face burn as the rushing blood reached his cheeks.

Muraki chuckled, his eyes closing for a moment before they opened up until his cool eyes were no more than slits. "But this time, Tsuzuki-san. It isn't all about you."

He glared, not wanting to know what Muraki would say next. Let it be him who Muraki wanted to touch. Let it be him who would suffer through the night as this mad man before him did whatever he pleased with his body. Let it be him that it was all about. Him, him, him and nobody else.

Because he know he couldn't take it if it were anyone else but him who would bleed.

"This time, it's all about the boy."

There was a beautiful kimono that was given to him by his mother once. He didn't know if she had made it by hand, or bought it. Nor did he care at the time. All he knew was that she had a gift for him. A gift, she'd said, that would make his father very proud if he'd worn it when his father's older brother would come to visit.

He loved it when she would spend time with him.

~~

Beautiful.

That was the only word for it. The only word he could think of, that is. He was in awe as he stared at it. The wonderful patterns, bright colors blending in, big white borders keeping others from mixing it. The golden yellow bordered by the white making it seem like the rising sun. The soft feel of the fabric as he ran his hand down it. A dragon! A dragon's face was at the front of it. It was truly, really very beautiful. And he felt inside of him a love and adoration for the person who had given him, made him this gift that he could almost burst.

Instead he decided to smile brightly at his mother and hug her as tightly as he could muster.

She gave him a soft smile, not so big and not so small, a nice womanly smile with no whites of her teeth shown. He smiled back, joy singing in his eyes as she hand her ran through his blonde locks before turning him around and ushering the maids around them to help her put on the lovely little kimono.

He giggled, then looked over his shoulder at her before turning around and holding out his arms to let her see him in the kinomo she had given him.

And she smiled that same smile that held nothing but adoration.

~~

Perhaps, if he had kept his thoughts to himself, if hadn't said what he wanted to know, none of the hurt would have happened. But he was a child then, and as children are, he was curious and needed an answer to his question.

And who else would he turn to for answers than to his parents?

~~

There was something about his father's older brother that he didn't understand. An aura around him that didn't greet others with warmth. A lining around him that silently warned those he did not want to see to stay at bay.

So he stayed close to his mother, standing behind her taller figure, seeking protection. But it seems that even his mother couldn't protect him from that unnerving feeling that came from his uncle.

--curse you, little brother. Curse you. He tugged on his mother's hand, frowning. His uncle had spoken, but he didn't move his mouth! How was that possible? --ch me. He blinked. It had been his mother's voice this time. He looked up at her to find her smiling down at him.

But some how, her smile seemed forced this time.

"Okaasama?" He'd asked when they were finally alone in his room. "Okaasama?"

--not yours. Don't call me that. She smiled again, this time it wasn't forced. But it seemed fake. "Yes?"

He frowned at that. "Why did Iwao-ojisan say those things to Otousama?"

He watched as she blinked, other thoughts from her head coming to a stop as she took in what he had said. Looking back down at him, she whispered softly. "What do you mean?"

"He cursed, Otousama. Iwao-ojisan cursed Otousama."

~~

That, in reality, had been the last time he had truly been happy. Gone were the days where he could run into his mother's arms. Gone were the times where he could believe that when his mother smiled, she didn't secretly think about how much she hated him. Those days were gone, replaced by the new and horrible fact that his powers, his damned empathic powers, were starting to grow inside him. But he didn't know that then. He didn't know, and so he asked.

He asked why the maid boosted in her thoughts every time she saw his mother that she didn't know that it was her who stole her favorite jewelry. He went to his mother time and time again to ask why his uncle, his father's older brother, would always curse his father whenever he came to visit. But the question he asked her the most, the one thought that troubled and hurt him the most, was why did she always say--

~~

Don't touch me. There it was. That same fake smile. Or maybe it was her old smile, the one he had thought was the womanly smile. Pursed lips, no whites of her teeth showing. "Yes?"

It hurt to ask. But what hurt more than the question he wanted answer was the fact that his mother, the one woman who his whole childhood revolved around, was growing more and more distant. She would no longer spend time with him. Oh yes, he could spend time with his father, but his father was busy. It wasn't as if his father never did spend time with him, because he did. His father loved him, he knew that. If his father didn't love him so much, then why had his father slapped his mother's face when she called him a demon?

"He is not my child! I will care for him no longer!"

"He is my child, which means he is yours as well! How dare you say such things about Hisoka!"

"He is no child! He is a demon!"

--nom! He must've gasped, for she inclined her head to one side and asked once again. "Yes?"

He wanted to cry. He wanted to wish it all away. He didn't like her thoughts. He didn't like the thoughts from his uncle, the curses his uncle would throw at his father who knew nothing of them. He didn't want to think, to think that this woman before him, that his mother, would... that she could...

"Do you hate me?"

~~

He'd wish so many nights after that night that he had not asked her that question. He'd prayed to whatever God that existed, if there were any, to make the voices in his head stop. To give the loving mother back to him.

He wanted back that wonderful rose colored view of the world that so many children had.

"Why? Why is it now that it is about Hisoka? What are you doing to him? Haven't you done enough?!" He was shaking, he knew. His fists, which were hidden underneath the table on his lap, shook in his anger. How could someone be so cruel? How can a person find so much joy in hurting others? In causing pain? He would never know, nor did he want to. "Why?!"

Muraki had his hands clasp together on the table. His features ever calm and polite to the point of driving one to anger. Does nothing ruffle this man? Was he always so cool, calm and collected? Tsuzuki felt his eye twitch as he waited for Muraki to answer him. Then suddenly it hit him. The more time Muraki spent with him, the less he would have to spend on Hisoka. The less Hisoka would suffer. Anything but that. He couldn't take it if Hisoka was once again laid out for this man to cut, to bleed. He'd seen him cry in sorrow at the death of Tsubaki-hime; he did not long to see tears nor cries of pain coming from his young partner.

"What is it that you want from him?"

Muraki chuckled then, his eyes still closed. "He asked me the same question before he followed me."

A loud gasp from the darker haired man was heard. Pale lips moved to form a slight smirk. "Yes, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki muttered quietly, answering a question he knew Tsuzuki had spoken out in his mind. "The boy willingly followed me. I did not force him. I did not need to. His own curiosity drove him to follow me; to find the answer to his question."

He had heard it with his own ears, but he did not want to believe. Hisoka had willingly followed Muraki, knowing full well that that man could cause him harm. Hisoka, a mere boy compared to his age who had countless times before called him an idiot, a fool, had followed the man who had killed him. Raped him.

He suddenly wondered who the bigger fool was. Him, for sitting here and talking to the man he hated and loathed more than anything in both worlds and not trying to find his partner. Or his partner, his young, quick witted and smart partner who had willingly went along with a man he hated and loathed. A man who now held him captive.

There was nothing amusing in the words that slipped pass Muraki's smiling lips.

"And as you know, Tsuzuki-san. Curiosity killed the cat."

Trust. It was his trust in his mother and his father that made him believe that they would never stop loving him. It was his trust, his need for them, that made the days after the night he had asked his mother if she hated him or not, bearable. Because his mother had loved him, perhaps even still does, doesn't she? His father, his dear father who he looked so much like, loved him. Not because he was his only hire, but because he was his son. Didn't they? They both loved him, how could they not?

He was their child. They were his parents. It is only natural that they would have unconditional love for him.

His chest heaved up suddenly as he almost laughed at his own stupidity. His eyes were heavy lidded as he looked down at the ground. Was he stupid for believing that his mother still loved him even after she had called him a demon?

~~

"He's not my child, Nagare! I cannot love a child that is not mines!"

"I will not repeat myself to you."

"But I will. And I say that he is a demon! He is a hell spawn!"

~~

"You said you wouldn't-"

"Aa, I did. And I mean it. I'm not causing him harm." Muraki butted in neatly.

"Then wha-!"

"I told you. I am showing him the truth."

"What do you mean the truth?! How could you know any truth to show him?!"

"Temper, temper, Tsuzuki-san. You wouldn't want to attract unwanted attention to yourself now." Muraki warned lightly, a smile on his lips.

He wanted to rip it off. To tear it slowly from that man's smug expression. He slowly relaxed himself. "Tell me." He demanded. "What do you mean?"

Muraki was silent for awhile, as if wondering if he should tell Tsuzuki or not. Quietly, he shifted himself in his chair, hands clasp before him on the table and raised his eyes till silver meant with violet.

"The truth, Tsuzuki-san." He repeated. "I'm letting him remember."

Tsuzuki blinked, completely confused. "Remember?"

The pale man stood up, picking up his coat and looked down at him, a silent warning to Tsuzuki in his eyes. A warning that told him not to follow, not to try to find out where Hisoka is unless he really wanted Muraki to kill him. Tsuzuki glared in return, and he smiled. Turning his back on Tsuzuki, he nodded.

"Aa." He began to walk away as he spoke. "I'm letting him remember when his trust was broken."

Hisoka closed his eyes.

He didn't want to remember it. He only wanted to remember the good times. But the good times were so short and few before his empathic powers began to grow.

He didn't like remembering the pain...

~~

He looked up at her hopefully, his eyes crying out loud to her as he reached for her hand. Please don't turn away from me, Okaasama. I love you. I need you, Okaasama. Say it's alright. Say you didn't mean it. Make it all right again. Make it okay again, Okaasama. I'm not a demon child. Say it's all a joke. Tell me you lov--

A loud slap was heard in the quiet tea room.

He had fallen back on his back on the ground, eyes wide. The side of his face where his mother's hand connected with was burning in hot pain. His vision blurred, his eyes stung as did his flushed skin. His breathing picked up, faster and faster as he gaped up at his mother who, for the first time in his life, had slapped him. He felt hot water slipping pass his eyes and down his cheek as he made quick sobbing noises.

The look in his mother's eyes was that of resentment and utter hatred.

"I hate you," she said, almost hissing at him. "You ruined everything. -I hate you!- Ruined my life! You demon! -I hate you!- You evil child!" I hate you!

You don't mean it. Please, say you don't mean it. I love you. I love you. Please say it. Say you love me. Don't call me a demon. It hurts, Okaasama. Make it stop hurting. Crying quietly on the floor, he reached out a hand towards her. Hoping with all his heart that she didn't mean any of the things she had just said. Wishing against everything that yes, she still loved him. That she was going to get him a new kimono tomorrow so he could wear for his uncle's next visit.

Don't look at me! "Don't touch me! I never want you to touch me again!" His mother roughly pushed his small hand away as she stormed out of the room and closed the doors behind her.

He cried out loud then, screaming for her to come back. Weeping loudly for his mother to hold him.

But she never did. She never looked at him again.

~~

His chest was shaking as he took quick short breaths. He had tightly closed his eyes against the painful memory. His hands above his head were fisted tightly and his short nails bit into his skin, causing him to bleed. He hiccupped, the noise sounding like a muffled sob in the empty room. He tasted blood, and suddenly realized that he had been biting down on his lips. The air around him was still cold despite the sunlight. It used to be warm, but it wasn't any longer.

The room was so cold. He didn't like the cold.

The light dimmed, letting the room he was in fall into complete darkness as the clouds blocked the sun's rays from coming in.

He didn't like the dark either.

The dark made him think about the room he was thrown into days after his mother left him. It made him remember the night his father lead him to his grave. The darkness didn't bring anything good in it. There was nothing but hate, despair, loneliness and betrayal in the darkness.

Betrayal.

That was what he felt. On both nights. The unbearable pain when his father was no where to be found. The confusion and hurt when his mother refuse to ever lay eyes on him again. Betrayal to his trust in them. His love. They were supposed to love him and yet they didn't. He felt himself becoming numb to everything around him. He felt himself no longer caring about anything. The only thing he heard now were the words his mother so harshly hissed at him.

I hate you.

He blinked slowly. He heard footsteps coming his way. There was a sudden spark of hope in him. Tsuzuki... It had to be him. Tsuzuki had found Muraki and had found out where Muraki was holding him. Who else could it be? Muraki was using him to get to Tsuzuki, that's the only reason why he bothered to capture him in the first place. Tsuzuki.

"Why?! It was me he was hurting and yet you acted as if it was you! Why?! I'm just! I'm... I..." demon.

"Because you're my partner."

It had to be Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki had helped him out countless times before. Before Tsuzuki, no one cared about him. Before he was a shinigami, no one came close. No one would look at him in the eye.

Before Tsuzuki there was only pain.

Pain and betrayal.

But now, now he had hope. Tsuzuki was his hope. He would never admit such a thing but it was true. In Tsuzuki, he had his hope. Hope that people do care for him. Hope that he would find someone who wouldn't leave him behind. Tsuzuki would never look down at him in hate and disgust. Tsuzuki would help him up, would offer his hand when he reached out for him.

But what was more important was that he trusted Tsuzuki. He believed in him.

Tsuzuki...

Muraki smiled as he came into the room, walking right up to where Hisoka hung and lifted his chin up with his index finger.

"And that, boy, is why you are broken."