Puppet Master by Gaki

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't like this chapter. RWAR. Right, no Muraki, Tatsumi (yay~ o/~ Tatsumi... damn you for being so hard to write)makes the scene and we still have Tsuzuki and Hisoka being angsty.

... Wait, did I say no Muraki in this chapter? I was kidding, he's at the end.

Pain \pan\ n. 1: usually localized physical suffering associated with bodily disorder (as a disease or an injury); also : a basic bodily sensation induced by a noxious stimulus, received by naked nerve endings, characterized by physical discomfort (as pricking, throbbing, or aching), and typically leading to evasive action b : acute mental or emotional distress or suffering : GRIEF

Groaning, he felt his knees buckle below him. He hissed as the cuts on his wrists once again met with the hard metal of the chains. His body shook with the force of his cough as blood made its way up his throat. Shaking his head, he gasped for air. This couldn't be happening. It can't, he wanted to cry it out loud but he stopped himself. ... no.

The blade was slender, reflecting the moonlight as it slowly sliced down his chest again, crisscrossing other cuts along the way. Tears made their way down his flushed cheeks as he cried in pain. The look on Tsuzuki's face was one of intense concentration, his hand holding the knife steady as he readied it once again for another cut. Pressing the tip of the blade into the soft pale skin, he watched in fascination as blood instantly welled up and slid down the slender torso. The boy whimpered and struggled as he pulled the knife away from his skin, looking at the blood on the sharp blade. Bringing the tip of the knife into his mouth, Tsuzuki licked at the blood as if it were the juices of a fruit.

Hisoka choked and closed his eyes as he saw that, not wanting to see Tsuzuki actually enjoying the indescribable pain he was causing him.

A silky smooth voice made a shiver run down his spine.

"Hisoka, does it hurt?" Tsuzuki let the knife fall from his hand as he caressed his partners' cheek. "Does it hurt, Hisoka?"

He flinched away, trying to cover his face from hands that he once thought would never be the cause of any pain. Tsuzuki chuckled and licked his lips. "Hisoka...? Did you know?"

He had his eyes shut, trying to block away all the unwanted feelings inside of him. He wouldn't let himself believe it was Tsuzuki who was actually hurting him. Because Tsuzuki'd never do such a thing, would he?

Tsuzuki held Hisoka's chin gently in his hand as he leaned down to nibble along his partner's jaw line.

"Did you know that I enjoyed hurting you back then?"

There was a time where he could hide from the unwanted attention he received from the children and adults. He could turn tail and call out a name and that person would wrap loving arms around him and everything’ would be okay again. He held back a sob, wishing that that person was once again alive. He could still hear them, those thousands of voices chasing after him as he ran like a coward. Voices cursing him, accusing him, asking him why.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."

He'd heard that once, while walking by a playground with Hisoka. It had made him stop and stare at the child who had said it. The child was sitting alone on a bench, nursing a wound on his knee as he struggled not to cry as a few children snickered at him. He kept repeating the same thing over and over again as if he was trying to convince himself that, yes, words could never hurt him.

He couldn't be like that boy. He couldn't hold back his tears and say those words and believe that it was true. Everything he heard tore at his soul. He was the reason why the old man's son's rabbit had died. It was his fault that the crops didn't provide enough food for the people. It was because of him that his beloved sister couldn't live the way she wanted to, without having to worry over her little brother that would always come home crying. His fault that he was ever born.

"How could you?!"

He held back a sob as he covered his ears, tears falling from his face as he continued to run. "I'm sorry..."

"You're not Tsuzuki." His voice didn't sound like his own even to his ears. "You're not..."

'Tsuzuki' frowned and looked at him. The picture would've convinced him that it was indeed his partner before him, but the blood stains, his blood stains, on the clothing ruined any chance of that. "But I am Tsuzuki. Can't you tell, Hisoka?"

He shook his head slowly, swallowing. "No..." He was staring in a daze at the ground that was littered with his drops of blood. Struggling to keep his eyelids open, he winced as a cut on his chest was opened up more as he moved. This was a nightmare, he was sure of it. But nightmares would never let you actually feel pain, did they? No, nightmares end the split second you almost hit the ground. So why wasn't he waking up from this nightmare? He wanted it to end, he wanted it to stop hurting.

'Tsuzuki' then smiled at him. A pleasant smile. "I am, you only think that because you don't know me well enough. You do want to know me better, don't you, Hisoka?"

He refused to answer the person before him because 'Tsuzuki' wasn't real. 'Tsuzuki' wasn't here because he wouldn't come.

'Tsuzuki' kept smiling at him, leaning down and picking up the knife again. "I want to get to know you better, Hisoka. Will you let me?"

He raised his head and stared at his partner as 'Tsuzuki' raised the blade over him.

"Will you let me, Hisoka?"

Perhaps it was pure instinct that brought him here. Whatever the reason was, he didn't care. He only wanted to find a safe place to where he could hide from all the voices. He practically threw himself against the door, pounding his fists against the hard wood with all his might. His hand was still covered in blood, leaving streaks of red all over the dark brown of the door. Please, please, be there. I.. I can't...

He leaned his forehead against the door, holding back his sobs as tears continued to trail down his face. The voices, the faces, the countless people he'd come across and had things done unto them that were all because of him. He saw them. He saw them all. The little boy and his rabbit. The angry townspeople and their rocks and sticks. His own beloved sister's face. But the one that made him choke, the one that caused him to cry and snap his eyes wide open was the blooded face of his young partner.

"You will kill all the ones you love with your own hands!!!"

The butcher knife coming down over and over again, hacking away at that slender body. Blood, so much blood. Blood on the carpet, blood on the curtains. Blood on his hands. His own partner's blood.

His hands. The blood. So much blood. He couldn't wash it off. He'd never be able to wash it all off. His fists pounded against the door, and in his minds eyes he saw himself holding the butcher knife once again. Hacking Hisoka's body in half. Hisoka who was disguised as Hijiri.

"You won't. You won't become like Muraki."

A low groan of misery made its way out of his throat, his fists pounding, his mind screaming in grief. Hisoka could never be like Muraki, would never be. His young partner's hands weren't soaked with blood. His own were. I'm... I'm just like Muraki.

"You are no better than I am."

The door finally opened, but he didn't lean back fast enough, and soon found himself falling forward. Tatsumi's blue eyes widened in surprised as he caught Tsuzuki's form in his arms as the brown haired man continued to weep.

"Tsuzuki-san!"

The room was silent. The ticking of the silver clock on the wall was the only thing causing any noise. The sofa was extremely comfortable but then again, it didn't really matter if it was or wasn't. What did matter, at the moment, was the other form sitting across from him. Hair falling forward, covering the strong face in shadows as red stained hands gripped the tea cup as if it were the only real thing at the moment. He leaned his head to the right and mused quietly to himself that it probably was true. The tea cup, the clock, the wine bottles, the table and the sofa. They were all true to their form. Not like himself and the person before him. They weren't really real. They were already dead, no longer part of the cycle of life.

Yet there they were. Sitting across from each other as if they were actually human beings. Some times things can seem pretty funny at the wrong moment.

Tatsumi cleared his throat softly, sitting back up as he tried to make eye contact with the other shinigami. Willing the brown mop of head to look up. "Tsuzuki-san." His voice was soft, gentle. He'd learned to be gentle with his former partner whenever Tsuzuki was in this state. He'd learned never to use harsh words against the other man when his eyes were haunted. But then again, it wasn't as if he enjoyed using harsh words or scolding Tsuzuki. He only did so because he hated seeing that look in those violet orbs.

Pain and suffering should never look back at him in those eyes. Only joy. Only happiness. Because Tsuzuki reminded him so much of another person that it drove a steak through his soul to see the beginning of tears to fall from his eyes. He'd promise himself that he'd protect that other person and he had failed. He'd made the same promise to Tsuzuki and he'd be damned if he didn't protect him from whatever was making him look so haunted, lost.

"Tsuzuki-san," he said softly again.

Blood stained hands twitched, rotating the cup as a cracked voice muttered quietly. "He was there..."

He willed those eyes to look up at him. "Who?"

A sniff, he saw Tsuzuki's shadowed face twist up in pain. "He... Muraki. He... He was there. He was there and Hisoka wasn't. I-"

Tatsumi's eyes narrowed slightly, as he adjusted his glasses. Muraki... He'd heard of that name, that man before, from the Nagasaki case and the incident with the Queen Camellia. That Muraki was the same person who had brought the young shinigami, Hisoka, to Meifu. His eyes narrowed more. He was never one to bother with any one's business, but in this case, it involved his co-workers. Not only that but it involved Tsuzuki. He would have to see Muraki in person one day but for now, he turned his attention back to Tsuzuki.

"Tsuzuki-san...?"

"A-chan? What's wrong?"

Tsuzuki finally looked up at him, his purple eyes full of tears. He found himself at a lost for words. Those eyes, those eyes that were usually so happy and full of laughter were no longer filled with that light. He couldn't muster the will to ask the question he knew would cause Tsuzuki to shed even more tears.

There was a loud thud as the cup in Tsuzuki's hand fell to the ground, it's contents spilling all over Tatsumi's carpet, but at the moment he didn't care. He was too busy staring at Tsuzuki as he buried his face into his hands and cried. He stood up and moved over towards Tsuzuki, kneeling down before him, his hands gripping Tsuzuki's wrists as he gently pulled them from his face.

Violet eyes were tightly shut as a sob shook Tsuzuki's shoulders. "---wasn't there. I... I shouldn't have bought... Now he's gone and it's my fault. Muraki could be killing him and I... I can't..."

"Don't say that." Tatsumi muttered softly, letting go of one of Tsuzuki's wrist to wipe away his tears with his thumb. "Never say it's your fault."

"But---"

Tatsumi shook his head, still wiping the tears that wouldn't stop. You cried. After every mission we've ever had in those three months, you cried. You died each time we finished a mission. Whenever I looked into your eyes, I could see you blaming yourself. I couldn't stand seeing that. "Don't." His voice was nothing but a soft whisper now, one hand still holding Tsuzuki's wrist as the other now touched his tear streaked cheek. "Don't say it. Don't cry."

Tsuzuki gazed down at him, his eyes tired and red, brows drawn together as he let out a shaky breath.

"Don't cry, A-chan. It's alright. Everything will be alright. Promise."

He fell to his knees in front of Tatsumi as he threw his arms around the older man, burying his face into his chest as if he wanted to hide from everything. He wanted everything to be alright. He wanted it to be alright so badly. Arms slowly wrapped around him in a comforting embrace as a hand rubbed his back soothingly, just the way she used to.

Tatsumi's voice was still gentle as he spoke again. "Everything will be alright."

He bit his lower lip. He wished he could really believe that was true.

He realized that a person really couldn't keep on screaming. His throat was terribly sore and dry, his lips were chapped and probably even bleeding. All he could muster at this point were pathetic whimpers and moans of pain. His chest raised and lowered with his every labored breath, the cuts on his front burning. Blinking, he found that he still had tears falling down his face. Funny, he thought he'd run out of tears and now he'd just proven himself wrong. He hated crying. It showed weakness. It showed emotions. Hadn't he learned long ago never to show any emotions? Whether it be joy, happiness or pain and suffering. Pain and suffering. He was experiencing that right now, wasn't he? Only it was intensified by the fact that his pain was caused by the last person he thought would ever willingly hurt him. But it's not... I know it's not. It can't. I won't let it be.

Nightmares and dreams. They were both the same to him. His dreams were always of something he could never have. His nightmares were the same thing. And the one thing he wanted the most, the one thing he secretly yearned for was for someone to actually care about him. To just care. It was as simple as that. To care and to not curse him for being who he was. But the world was cruel and lonely place. People are never what they put out for others to see. Every one wore masks. He'd learn to do the same. To let someone get close too him was something he didn't want to risk. Didn't want to experience because in the end, he'd always get hurt. The two people who were the most important beings in his life showed no compassion for him. So then why would anyone else be any different?

Muraki was right. He had grown to believe in Tsuzuki far too much. Believed, trusted, that Tsuzuki could actually care or worry over a person like him. A single tear slipped from his eyes and with it, all his emotions ran down his cheek. He had hoped, longed and wished, that Tsuzuki was different. He had wanted to believe that Tsuzuki actually did care about him. Was it so foolish of him to still have that small hope within himself that there was some person out there who wouldn't hate him? Was he so stupid as to dream that he would no longer have to hide behind his glares; that he would no longer have to stand alone? He was.

Another tear slipped down his face as he realized another thing. Nightmares don't end until you finally face your fears. They don't end until you stop running and turn around to face the monster chasing you right in the eye. The 'Tsuzuki' in front of him wasn't real because...

He shook his head fiercely, only to throw it back and cry out in pain as another cut was made on his arm. 'Tsuzuki' lowered the blade, and touched his cheek tenderly.

"I'm sorry, Hisoka. I'm almost done. Just a bit more..."

He refocused his eyes and looked at the person before him. It was Tsuzuki and yet, and yet it wasn't because... "You're not Tsuzuki..."

'Tsuzuki' sighed, then smiled a bit at him. "Why do you say that?"

He never knew that admitting to something would hurt so much. Hisoka swallowed, not wanting to say what he knew was true to end the nightmare and yet not wanting to believe it.

"Because... because Tsuzuki, " Another tear slipped, his vision blurring. He really hated crying. "Tsuzu... Tsuzuki would never.. Tsuzuki isn't." He closed his eyes, not wanting to look into those fake violets.

"Do you think Tsuzuki-san'll come and rescue a killer?"

"No."

Muraki's pleased chuckle was the only thing he truly expected to hear.