Puppet Master by Gaki

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ugh. This chapter took awhile to write because I kept getting stuck on Tsuzuki. Muraki is easier to write than he is. *kick* Same warning applies. Angst, mind games, Muraki being himself.

[1] = The three levels of the waterfall represented Heaven, Earth and Man. Just thought it'd be fun for you all to know. ^^v
[2] = Book #4 Hokkaido Arc. Yep! Hi-chan is afraid of the dark. Wonder if he sleeps with a nightlight on. *vbg*
[3] = Book #1 Nagasaki Arc. Gushoushin telling Tsuzuki that he could break down the barrier of Hisoka’s heart. Aww.
[4] = Book #3 King of Swords Arc. The part where Hisoka falls into his dream, crying out for Tsuzuki to save him. ^_^ Come on, he screamed it out. Tsuzuki was sure of have heard it. Besides, he even lied about it.
[5] = Muraki said this in Chapter 3.
[6] = Book #1 Nagasaki Arc. Muraki talking to Hisoka about how he cursed him.

Life is like a long and twisting highway. And like any highway, it branches off into different directions and roads. Whether or not you choose to keep going straight or to head into a junction is purely up to you.

Your own choice.

If you are daring, you will take as many twist and turns as you like. Daring to live life on the edge. To follow in with the saying 'Only the Good die Young'. But there are those of us who have to think thoroughly before we dive in. Do we really want to go down this road? Will it get us to our destination quickly or will it lead us to a dead end?

Life has many choices that it throws in your direction. It is your duty on whether or not you want to pick one.

And whether or not your decision is a good one.

The sensation was a pleasant one. The complete abandonment of gravity was uplifting. It was like the feeling of being in a roller coaster as it makes its first dive; of course, he'd never been on a roller coaster before. So perhaps this is why so many people enjoyed going to a theme park. To once again experience the feeling of weightlessness if only for a couple of minutes. And the silence, never had he ever heard such complete silence. Perhaps there was a time, a time before his thoughts weren't his own, but he could hardly remember such a time. Like how he could hardly ever remember being happy. It was so pleasant. To not have a thought in his head as his body continued to fall down endlessly towards nothingness.

There was a wonderful nothing around him. An air, an aura that nothing could get into. Here, wherever this place was, no one could touch him. No one could look down at him and there were no unwanted feelings or thoughts. He was in a cocoon and he never wanted to leave it.

* Do you have a favorite toy, boy?

Perhaps, perhaps this was what it felt like to be in a womb. To be so close to the source of your life that nothing else could harm you or touch you. His brow twitched. Mother. To be so close to Mother that all he could feel was the warmth from her body and hear nothing but the beating of her heart. He wanted to curl into himself, to make himself smaller in size. But he couldn't move his body. All he could do was to just fall and feel this beautiful peacefulness around him.

He wondered slightly if this was what death felt like. Did dying felt like you were falling without ever stopping? He couldn't remember his own death; no one remembered their own death. The soul, after death, was required to drink a tonic that erases all memory of the life it had lead while alive. If not, the soul would refuse to move on. Shinigami, however, were allowed to keep their memory so that they would be a bit more human than the souls they collected.

* What do you do with your toy?

Was he dying? Had he finally given up and passed over? Was he on his way to drink the tonic and forget everything? Forget ever becoming a shinigami and meeting those of the Shokan Division? Was he ready to forget? Did he want to? He didn't know. He felt too at peace with everything around him to even bother thinking about that. Dying and forgetting everything.

Forgetting and being forgotten. He found that he didn't want to be forgotten. He wanted to be remembered, whether it be in fondness or anything else. As long as they remembered him. Will they remember him? Will they sit down for a break, see something that reminded them of him and start to chat about him as if he were still there? Or will they ignore it as if nothing had happened? Will Tsuzuki just go and find another partner to replace him just as quickly?

Did he really mean nothing at all?

* I, too, have a favorite toy.

He was still falling. He wanted to keep falling. If he was going to be forgotten, then he'd rather not think over it. He wanted to become numb to it all again. Where was it? Where was the shield he had put up around himself? When and how did it break without his knowing? It bothered him that the thought of them not remembering him was making his chest tighten. It shouldn't matter. He should be used to it. He was used to it. Because he was nothing...

... nothing...

* I play with my favorite puppet...

His eyes shot open when he felt something take hold of his hand.

It wasn't surprising to find that the front door of the old broken down puppet store boarded in from the inside. Pressing the palm of his hands against it, Tsuzuki pushed and shoved with all of his might. Hisoka was on the other side. He was with Muraki on the other side of this door, this stubborn door that just wouldn't move. He bared his teeth, pushing harder. A boarded up door wasn't going to stand in his way of bringing Hisoka back to where he belonged.

He'd told Tatsumi earlier in the morning that he'd bring Hisoka back. He had declined the secretary's offer to go along. Hisoka was his partner. It was his fault Hisoka was missing; he'll be the one to make it better again. He shouldn't have told the younger shinigami to wait for him. He shouldn't have followed his stomach and not his head like Hisoka told him so many times before. But even so, wasn't it also Hisoka's own fault for following Muraki when he knew what the man was capable of doing? The boy was smart, very much so, so why did he follow the mad man?

"His own curiosity drove him to follow me; to find the answer to his question."

Becoming desperate, wanting the door to just move out of his way, Tsuzuki slammed his body against it with more force. He couldn't summon a shikigami in daylight no matter how much he wanted to. It would bring too much unwanted attention. Damn him. Damn Muraki and his sick ways. Wasn't one time enough for him?

No. Not once…

Twice. Twice he'd taken Hisoka from under his nose and twice he was caught off guard. What did he want? What else was there for Hisoka to give to him? Didn't he already brand the boy as his for all his lifetime? Even in death Hisoka could not escape from his hands. So what else was there that he wanted to take that he already didn't?

His life, his innocence. His youth, his soul. His body.

Muraki had forcefully taken everything Hisoka had to give. He gritted his teeth, feeling burning hatred boil within himself for that one person. He would never forgive him. He will never forgive someone who could hurt others so easily.

Driving his elbow into the old wooden boards, he heard a satisfactory crack as the boards finally gave in. Straightening up a bit and facing the door fully, he fisted his hands as he readied himself to knock down the boards with his bare hands. Pulling his fist back and slamming it into the door, the force of his punch sent little bits of bark flying into the air. Throwing in a few more punches to make a bigger gap, he pulled the boards from the nails as he forced his body into the small hole he'd made. Almost falling face first into the puppet store, he found himself immersed in complete darkness save for the stream of light from the hole behind him.

Hisoka… Be alright. Because if you're not… I…

Letting his violet eyes scan the area around him, he clenched his jaw.

I don't know what I'd do…

He was staring into his own eyes. It was shocking. It wasn't like looking into a mirror. A mirror only reflects what is before it. This wasn't a reflection. It was real. As real as real could get. From the facial expression to the strands of loose hair, everything was real. It was as if he had a twin. He looked down. And that twin was ten years his junior. He shook his head, raising a hand to rub his temple. This wasn't possible. How could he be staring at himself? His younger self to boot. Whatever Muraki was doing, he hoped it would stop soon. He had no wish to see his younger self. The young boy who trusted and loved freely. The little child who have yet to know the cruel reality of the world around him. Waiting to break his trust and faith in everything he thought was true.

Taking his eyes off of his younger self, he found that he was in the backyard of his household in Kanagawa. Everything was much the same. There was the koi pond he was so fond of; he would spend endless hours staring down at the koi fishes. Feeding the beautiful orange and white spotted kohaku while sitting on the miniature Moon Bridge his Father had hired people to make. Bushes of azaleas and rhododendrons surrounded the edges of the wall along the pond, creating a fence made of beautiful blooms as butterflies of every color fluttered about.

A young sakura tree was planted behind the cascading three leveled waterfall [1] of the pond. The wonderful soft pink colors of the petals littered the ground and some even fell into the water, creating a wonderful image for the eye to see. From where he was standing, he could see the old pathway to the arbor where he used to play hide and seek.

Of course, he played by himself. He frowned, turning a bit bitter as he remembered. His childhood was far from wonderful. Whenever he was allowed out of the house, he would find his way into the garden. It was a haven. A safe place where he could just sit and stare at the fishes without having people give him frightened looks.

"Hisoka-sama scares me."

"Shh. He might hear you."

"He'll hear us even if we don't say anything."

They never had a friendly smile for him. A sharp tug on his hand shook him out of his thoughts and he once again looked back into his own emerald eyes.

His younger self tilted his head to the side as he spoke in a childish voice.

"Who are you?"

The puppet store was in complete darkness save for the stream of light from the gap in the door that he’d made. He stayed where he stood, gazing around the old abandoned store to see if there was anything out of place. Anything that would lead him to where Hisoka was held captive. Age old boards, tables and dolls were the only thing in the room. There were puppets of every kind. From the old hand puppets to marionettes and Victorian dolls. Somewhere hanging from their strings while others were littered about along the table. Dead dark eyes stared back at him as he walked around the store. A shiver of uneasiness ran down his spine. Nothing was more unnerving than to look into the eyes of a doll. You can find no emotion in there. No sense of feeling or thought.

Completely lifeless.

Wandering deeper into the store, walking down the unlighted hallway, Tsuzuki was glad that he was able to see in the dark. It was an advantage. He could see anything that would jump out at him in surprise. A hidden foe that would try to bring him down. A frown crossed his face as he remembered that Hisoka didn’t have the same advantage. The boy didn’t like the dark; he’d told him so on their vacation in Hokkaido [2].

“I’m not good with darkness. Can’t see anything.”

It must’ve been hell for his younger partner. Being stuck in complete darkness with Muraki. The boy wasn’t at all weak, he knew. He had amazingly strong healing abilities but a shinigami can last for only so long until their strength gave out. Hisoka had yet to learn how to use an ofuda correctly, needed to learn spells to protect him against demons. If only he’d been there before Muraki had found his partner alone. If only he’d been there to stop it all from happening.

“Hold it. I can see in the dark.”

Kicking down a board from his path, he found himself in what seems to be the puppet store’s workshop. Unfinished puppets with missing limbs, eyes and hair were littered with dusts. Untouched for so long, they seemed like neglected children. Tossed aside from the hands that had worked so hard to crave them only to stay young forever and to be forgotten by everyone. Never knowing how it would feel to be cared for by a gleefully giggling child or the tender touch of a wrinkled hand as a brush would run through their fake hair.

He shook his heads, chiding himself for thinking about puppets when he should be looking for Hisoka. Then he stopped, looking back at the forgotten dolls as he frowned. They reminded him of Hisoka. Left alone in the dark for so long, never knowing the kindness and unconditional love of a child. Trapped forever in a puppet store that no one even cared about anymore; they were more or less nothing. No one knew of them.

No one cared.

"But Tsuzuki-san! You don’t have to be so worried! You just have to break through the barrier of his heart!” [3]

Gushoushin’s words came back to him as he turned away from the neglected dolls. Truth be told, he didn’t know if he was doing a good job of that. The more he pushed the more the boy seemed to push right back. Shoving him away even as he tried to get closer, to understand the anti-social young man that was his partner. Sometimes he felt like giving up. But… there were those small moments, the tiny acts that kept him hanging on.

“TASUKETE!!! TSUZUKI!!!” [4]

Those pale hands clutching onto his arms. Hisoka still asleep, lost in his own nightmare. Hearing a cry from Hisoka for him to save him. It was worth it. Worth all those glares that made him feel as if the child actually DID hate him. Worth the times being called an idiot for not acting his age. The look on Hisoka’s face when he was shaken up, eyes wide and lost. Scared. His hands were still holding onto him so tightly. He never felt so needed before.

“Did I… say anything just now?”

“… No.”

He never told Hisoka. Never told the young man that he’d cry out for him. Cried out to be saved. Saved from whatever was still haunting him. And he would never tell him. To tell him is to risk being pushed away even further. He would keep that moment to himself. That one moment where Hisoka had pulled down his shields and fully needed him.

“You lied again. Such a slip of the tongue.”

“It’s alright. I’ve got two tongues.”

Hisoka needed him. He’d cried out for help from him and he would not turn away. Feeling a slight draft coming from behind a self, Tsuzuki made his way towards it and felt around the edges. As his fingers touched a gap in the wall behind the self, his heart beat quickened. He was near, he was so near. Wedging his hands into the gap, his used all of his strength to pull the self from the wall. Hearing a loud groaning sound as the large wooden self was pulled from its place against the wall, Tsuzuki saw into the room right behind it.

His eyes widen when he saw a body slumped against the floor.

“HISOKA!!!”

“Who are you?"

He couldn’t exactly tell his younger self his name, could he? Yet, this place wasn’t real so it shouldn’t matter if he told him the truth or not, right?

"You refuse to see the truth." [5]

The truth? What was there to see here? It was just a garden, a safe place for him. What was he supposed to tell his younger self? That he was dead? That what his Father had told him was true? That he was dead, as dead as dirt? He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that to himself. Even if this place wasn’t real. Even if it was just some place in his mind that he was hiding in. He couldn’t. He couldn’t break himself like that.

The truth? He didn’t know what or who he was anymore. Was he Kurosaki Hisoka? The son of the most respected family in Kanagawa? The hier to the family that was a descendant of a God slayer? But Kurosaki Hisoka was dead, wasn’t he?

“This is your grave, Hisoka.”

The truth? He was a puppet. Marked and branded by a madman. Forever a doll for the person to use as he pleased. Even in death he couldn’t escape those pale hands that pulled at his strings.

“… Upon your body I imprinted the cursed words that no one would be able to vanquish…” [6]

The truth was that he was nothing. He was all of those and yet he didn’t know which one was really him. He didn’t know who he was anymore. Some where along the way of being Hisoka, a puppet and a shinigami, he’d lost his true self. He looked down at his younger form. He’d lost that look of complete trust. Lost the innocence only a child could have when looking at the world around him. Lost the complete faith and hope he had in his parents.

He’d lost the ability to open up to everyone around him.

He wasn’t Kurosaki Hisoka anymore. He was someone else.

“I… I don’t know.”

Rushing over to Hisoka’s prone body, Tsuzuki gently pulled the slender form into his arms. An expression of pain and sadness fell over his face when he saw the scars and cuts on his partner’s slender chest. Hisoka was breathing slowly, his breath coming in short gasps. Letting his hands touch every inch of Hisoka’s body, he made sure to see if there were any other injuries the boy was suffering from. Lifting his hand back to Hisoka’s face, he patted the tear streaked face gently, whispering his name.

“Hisoka! Hisoka, wake up. Please, wake up.” He bit his lip when the boy didn’t budge. Once again the feeling of complete helplessness came down on him. He had Hisoka in his arms and yet he couldn’t wake him up. Worried that his partner was lost in a nightmare, he shook him by the shoulders. “Hisoka! Wake up!”

“Oya, oya. You shouldn’t be shaking him so roughly, Tsuzuki-san.”

He all but growled and turned around, still clutching onto his partner. “Muraki.”

Muraki chuckled, adjusting his glasses as he leaned against the window. There was a doll in his arms, a Victorian doll with blonde hair and green eyes. It reminded him slightly of Hisoka. Muraki noticed this, and smiled slightly as he straightened up. Holding the doll in front of him so that Tsuzuki could see it more clearly, he spoke.

“Do you like her, Tsuzuki-san?” He looked down at the puppet in his arms. “She’s been with me for a long time you know.”

Hugging Hisoka closer to himself, Tsuzuki glared. “I don’t care.”

Muraki caressed the doll’s slightly pink cheek as he smiled, looking up at Tsuzuki from under his bangs. “Her name is Veronica.”

“I told you, I don’t care about your doll.”

“Oh?” Turning Veronica around in his hand, Muraki continued to gently touch the doll’s face. Tsuzuki then noticed a ward, a spirit ward on the back of the doll’s head. He recognized the kanji on the paper. It was a one way ward, spirits can go in but once inside they weren’t allowed to go out unless the ward was taken off.

He felt a sudden feeling of dread as Muraki continued to idly play with his puppet.

“What if I told you that the body you are holding in your arms is not your dear partner? What if I told you that that is nothing but a lifeless body? And that this, “ He held up Veronica, smiling slightly as his glasses gleamed maliciously. “is actually the boy?”

He stared at Muraki for awhile before he spoke, his hands shaking as they clung to Hisoka almost desperately. “No… I won’t believe you. You’re just trying to confus—"

“What would I gain from that, Tsuzuki-san? Why would I send a note for you, telling you where you can find your partner only to trick you?”

He didn’t know the answer to that. So he glared.

That seemed to only amuse Muraki even more. Smiling pleasantly, Muraki placed the doll in the safety of his arms as he spoke again. “Which one do you pick, Tsuzuki-san?"

He must've looked confused, for the next thing Muraki said was...

"The doll or the boy?”

I’m not an evil author. Really >3