Glossary:

aa - yeah
arigatou - thank you
baka - idiot
bakayarou - jackass
bon - little boy---Watari’s affectionate nickname for Hisoka
Enma-cho = Hades; the world of the dead
iie - no
ite - ouch
Ju-Oh-Cho - Japanese bureau for processing the spirits of the deceased
na - hey
onegai - please
saa - in the way I’m using it here, it means basically ‘I have no idea’
sakura - cherry trees/blossoms
Shinigami - literally ‘Death Gods’---often translated as ‘Angels of Death’
sou desu ka? - is that right?
tasukete - help me; save me
tasukete kure - please help me; please save me
wakkateiru - I understand

*****
Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time's eddying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death's despite,
And day and night yield one delight once more?
- ‘Sudden Light’, Dante Gabriel Rossetti
*****

With a soft sigh and a hastily muffled yawn, Seiichirou Tatsumi pushed back his chair and got to his feet, entirely too aware of the need to stretch and move around a bit. Blue eyes that were all too often described as cold and unfeeling---often the best mask for watchfulness---peered almost furtively at the clock on the wall, and he couldn’t deny the relief he felt as he watched the minute and hour hand come to meet over the number twelve.

True to his expectation, almost precisely on the dot a knock sounded on the door, but before he could call out to his visitor, the door opened a bit, and a familiar face, surrounded by a mass of untamed blond hair, peeked into the room.

“Lunch time, Tatsumi-san!” the intruder said with a grin, before stepping in and closing the door behind himself. Tatsumi watched, hiding his amusement, as the man proceeded to stack a number of food items onto Tatsumi’s desk. “I brought Chinese.”

“Arigatou, Watari-san,” Tatsumi answered, slowly making his way back around behind his desk and taking his seat, wincing slightly as he noticed the way his joints protested.

Lately he had been spending longer and longer hours sitting at his desk without a break. The fact that he was preoccupied was obvious to everyone in the department; the reason, however, was entirely elusive. Only one person had taken on the task of trying to coax said reason out of the quiet and somewhat intimidating Tatsumi…the same man who often took on the difficult task of cheering up his colleagues.

Yutaka Watari, Tatsumi mused, was undoubtedly the clown of the Ju-Oh-Cho. His casual, somewhat androgynous appearance combined with his almost flirtatious manner and his constant habit of trying to pass off various odd inventions and potions on his co-workers had earned him that place. But in many ways, he also seemed the wisest among all of the Shinigami working in the summoning branch. A keen insight and a brilliant and shrewd sense of humor allowed him the upper hand in many tense situations, and Tatsumi had come to consider the younger man invaluable.

Of late, Watari had been visiting Tatsumi regularly at lunch time, with alarming punctuality. Every time he brought something ridiculously expensive, no doubt in an effort to raise Tatsumi’s ire, because an annoyed Tatsumi amused him. Tatsumi had come to expect---in fact, almost to rely on---Watari’s regular presence in his office, and the quiet, almost reflective conversations they’d taken to having. Although Tatsumi had no intention of revealing to Watari the reason for his recent preoccupation---he hardly understood it himself---he did find that Watari’s cheerful presence picked up his mood somewhat. Not to mention that, while Tatsumi never would have admitted so out loud, he was rather interested to hear the office gossip that Watari always seemed eager to provide.

Today, of course, the gossip revolved around only one topic, the same one the whole office had been buzzing about all day.

“Has there been any sign of Tsuzuki-san yet?” Tatsumi asked, adjusting his glasses on his nose before he leaned forward to accept a couple of the cardboard boxes Watari pushed towards him.

Tsuzuki Asato was, simply put, the best, most capable Shinigami in the summoning division; everyone had long since accepted that fact. However, of equal importance was the fact that Tsuzuki was also without peer in the realm of laziness and lack of motivation, and it was rumored that he possessed an attention span less than that of a fruit fly.

The gossip of the day had it that Tsuzuki had walked in that morning, only a few minutes late, taken one look at the bad-tempered expression on his partner’s face, and fled in the opposite direction. He hadn’t been seen since.

Watari’s grin told Tatsumi all he needed to know, and he hid a smile behind a well-placed hand, pretending to be focused on his food.

“Someone said they thought they’d seen him hiding in the library, but that can’t be right,” Watari said, chuckling warmly. “Surely he’d know that’s the first place Bon would look.”

Tatsumi nodded, still trying to contain his own amusement.

“What do you suppose has him so riled up lately?” Watari asked thoughtfully, tapping a chopstick lightly against his chin.

Tatsumi didn’t need to ask to know that Watari was talking not about Tsuzuki, but about his partner, Kurosaki Hisoka, the youngest member of the summoning division. Hisoka was known around the office for two things: his affinity for reading and love of books of all subjects, and his temper, which often seemed to hover in permanent overdrive. Of course, most of his fellow Shinigami were lucky enough to be able to avoid the consequences of Hisoka’s wrath. Most of the time, his ire was directed only at his partner.

Tatsumi didn’t answer, instead dropping his eyes to watch the swirling patterns in his cup of tea as he stirred it. He imagined that Watari knew perfectly well what was wrong with Hisoka, and if he was attempting to draw Tatsumi into conversation on the subject, Tatsumi intended to make sure he was disappointed.

“Not that he isn’t grouchy most of the time anyway,” Watari continued, more to himself than to his companion. He reached back to flip his hair over his shoulder, accidentally displacing the small owl that had perched there, which fluttered irately for a moment, then gave a loud chirp and dipped to snap at Watari’s ear. True to form, Watari only laughed at this, shook his head, and picked up his tea.

“But lately,” he continued, “he’s seemed even worse than usual.”

“Kurosaki-kun…” Tatsumi began, pausing to choose his words as carefully as possible, “…still has a lot to learn about being around other people. It’s true that a lot of time has passed since he became a Shinigami, but it can take many years to break habits acquired in childhood.”

A childhood that, in a way, Hisoka would never be leaving. Tatsumi’s eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on his own memory and the anger that arose with the images as he thought of his own encounters with the man who had so badly damaged the boy.

“Well, all I can say is that…” Watari began, but whatever he was about to say was abruptly cut off by the sound of a blood-curdling shout from the next room.

“BAKA!!!!!”

For a moment, Tatsumi and Watari remained paralyzed with shock, but in the next instant they both launched to their feet and made a beeline for the door. Just as Watari’s hand was reaching for the handle, however, the door swung open, narrowly missing Watari’s nose, and a blur only vaguely recognizable as human zipped past Watari and around behind Tatsumi.

Tatsumi turned, slowly lifting a single eyebrow, only to find himself face to face with a very worried-looking Tsuzuki Asato.

“Tatsumi!” Tsuzuki whispered, noticeably quivering as he tried to hide himself entirely behind Tatsumi’s taller form. “Please hide me! I’ll never survive if…”

“BAKAYAROU!!!” came the second, inevitable shout, and Tsuzuki winced, reaching out a hand to grasp Tatsumi’s sleeve.

“Tasukete!” Tsuzuki whimpered, just before he ducked his head behind Tatsumi’s shoulder. Tatsumi turned around to find that Tsuzuki’s worries were surely not entirely ill-founded. Just seconds after Tsuzuki disappeared behind Tatsumi, the door slammed the rest of the way open and Watari was forced to jump backwards to avoid the impact. Both Tatsumi and Watari stared with chagrin at the sight before them.

Hisoka stood in the doorway, one hand against the door, the other against the jam, his breath coming hard and fast, chest rising and falling rapidly. His brilliant green eyes were hard with fury, and they narrowed with unfailing precision directly on Tatsumi, spying the quaking form behind him. Just as Hisoka opened his mouth and took a breath, obviously preparing to shout again, Watari decided to take the initiative and stepped into Hisoka’s view.

“Bon!” he chirped cheerily, grinning for all he was worth. “How are you? Have you had lunch yet? We’ve got Chinese…”

Hisoka didn’t answer except for a slight narrowing of the eyes and a wordless, almost feral growl. Watari instantly dropped the pretense and stepped out of the way. Hisoka’s eyes again came to rest on Tatsumi.

“Looking for someone?” Tatsumi asked smoothly, calmly pushing his glasses further up on his nose.

“Tsu-zu-ki,” Hisoka said, between breaths and through gritted teeth. His eyes continued to narrow, conveying the impression that if Tatsumi remained in his way, Hisoka would eventually see fit to force his way past him.

“Tasukete kure,” Tsuzuki whispered desperately against Tatsumi’s shoulder, but Tatsumi ignored him.

“Ah. In that case, I can help you,” Tatsumi said with a mild smile, stepping to one side. Tsuzuki’s face became a mask of terror as Tatsumi placed his hands on Tsuzuki’s shoulders and propelled him gently towards Hisoka.

“Onegai, Tatsumi!!” Tsuzuki cried, just before he was seized by Hisoka, who took a firm grip on Tsuzuki’s ear, which forced Tsuzuki to bend over several inches to decrease the pain, owing to Hisoka’s comparative height.

“Arigatou,” Hisoka said curtly to Tatsumi, before he turned and started back towards his own desk, Tsuzuki in tow. “*Back* *to* *work*, Tsuzuki.”

“Ite ite ite ite!!!!” Tsuzuki’s voice echoed down the hallway until Tatsumi stepped forward and closed his office door.

“Tatsumi,” Watari said, feigning shock. “I’m amazed by your capacity for cruelty.”

“This,” Tatsumi said firmly, pointing a finger towards the wall that separated them from the desks outside, “is none of our business.”

“What on earth is he so angry about?” Watari asked, grinning slightly as he took his seat again.

“I imagine he’s finally found out about Tsuzuki skipping his meeting with the Chief yesterday in favor of a trip to the nearest confectionery,” Tatsumi said, trying valiantly to hide his own smile under the pretense of adjusting his glasses yet again.

Watari couldn’t help himself. He chuckled, and the chuckle soon blossomed into a hearty laugh. Despite himself, Tatsumi felt himself joining along, smirking openly as he allowed himself to ponder the punishments Hisoka surely had in mind.

*****

The next morning, the office was strangely quiet. Much to everyone’s surprise, Tsuzuki Asato could be seen working quietly at his desk, his partner sitting placidly across from him, engaged in his own work. At first, Tatsumi could only imagine what might have occurred between Tsuzuki and Hisoka the day before, but when Watari finally arrived for lunch, this time toting along high-priced Italian, he came to understand the gist of that fateful meeting.

“I just saw Tsuzuki getting a cup of coffee,” Watari said, even before he bothered to say hello. “There were tears in his eyes as he watched Wakaba-chan eating one of his favorite kinds of cinnamon roll.”

“Sou desu ka?” Tatsumi said, fighting the urge to smile. “So Hisoka’s forbidden him to eat any sweets, is that it?”

“Unless I miss my guess,” Watari answered with a wink and a smirk. Tatsumi slowly shook his head.

“Well, we can only hope that this finally teaches Tsuzuki his lesson,” Tatsumi said thoughtfully after a few moments.

Watari only snickered.

*****

Three days passed, relatively without incident. Only once during the entire span of time did Hisoka ever throw one of his heaviest books towards Tsuzuki’s head, and even then, it was obvious that, unlike usual, he had meant to miss. The book had bounced off the desk just beside Tsuzuki’s ear, effectively snapping him out of the doze he’d fallen into. Rather than complaining loudly as he usually would have, Tsuzuki had only hastened to clean the drool off his reports and get on with fixing them up.

On the fourth day, however, just as lunch time rolled around, Hisoka glanced up with already-narrowed eyes to see one of his co-workers slowly wheeling a cart laden with sweets of every description down the passage between the desks.

“What is *that*?” Hisoka snapped perilously, and Tsuzuki glanced up with seeming carelessness.

“Saa,” he said innocently, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe the cafeteria had extras. Na, Hisoka, we really shouldn’t let them go to waste…”

His words were cut off by the sharp sound of Hisoka’s voice, low and threatening.

“Iie,” Hisoka said, slowly getting to his feet. The cart had just reached him, and Tsuzuki’s eyes widened perceptively when Hisoka clamped both hands down on the cart, startling the man who was wheeling it.

“Iie, iie, iie, iie, iie, IIE!!” Hisoka said, his voice slowly building up to a deafening, almost effeminate shriek. The man who’d been wheeling the cart quickly threw himself out of the way as Hisoka gripped the edge of the cart and pushed, hard, sending it careening back down the aisle.

Hisoka was breathing hard when he turned around to face his partner, who was staring mournfully after the cart as it spun away.

“Get to work,” Hisoka said, in his lowest, most dangerous tone. Tsuzuki took one look at the fire burning deep in his partner’s eyes and quickly turned back to his work, apparently entirely forgetting that it was lunch time.

By the time Tatsumi heard about this latest incident, he had already decided that it was past time he stepped in. Rather than formally asking the two partners into his office to attempt to resolve the conflict, Tatsumi decided to handle the matter in a more personal fashion.

Later that day, after everyone had left, Tatsumi stepped out of his office and turned out the light, turning slowly, already anticipating the sight that would greet his eyes.

Just as he’d thought, Tsuzuki was still sitting at his desk, blinking in an obvious attempt to stave off sleep as he stared at the reports spread in front of him.

With the barest breath of a sigh, Tatsumi started forward, and didn’t stop until he was standing just behind Tsuzuki, one hand against Tsuzuki’s desk, close enough that he could feel the tremor that went through Tsuzuki at the invasion of his personal space.

“Tsuzuki-san,” Tatsumi said quietly, directly into Tsuzuki’s ear. “It might help matters if you sulked a little less and *talked* a little more.”

He backed up as quickly as he had approached, watching as Tsuzuki slowly relaxed his guard.

“Just a suggestion,” Tatsumi said softly, smiling slightly to himself before he walked away. He felt Tsuzuki’s eyes on his back, following him until he closed the door behind himself.

He kept his eyes open for his next target, guessing correctly that Hisoka wouldn’t have left just yet. Even so, he paused for a moment just outside the doors of the building when he finally spotted the boy standing beneath one of the cherry trees, idly catching falling blossoms as they fluttered on invisible tendrils of air around him.

Tsuzuki had been easy enough to approach. Although Tatsumi was fully aware that he had seriously compromised Tsuzuki’s trust in him years ago when he had broken off the brief and tempestuous romance that had blossomed between them, Tsuzuki still knew Tatsumi’s disposition well enough to understand precisely the meaning of Tatsumi’s suggestion. As a matter of fact, Tatsumi’s words had surely been nothing more than a verbal confirmation of Tsuzuki’s own thoughts, unless Tatsumi missed his guess.

Hisoka was an entirely different matter. A lifetime of neglect and pain had taught Hisoka to deeply mistrust other people, and although his time working with the good-natured Tsuzuki had slowly been changing Hisoka’s habits, it was still extremely easy for Hisoka to fall back into the old patterns of anger and wariness. On the best of days, Hisoka was difficult to approach. His moods were often quicksilver to change, which made his reactions entirely unpredictable, and the last thing anyone wanted was to drive the boy back into his shell.

Nonetheless, Tatsumi was determined to try. He could only hope he would be as successful as he’d been in times past.

He approached the boy---man, he corrected himself; Hisoka’s looks were deceiving---slowly, carefully, his actions the entire opposite of how he had behaved with Tsuzuki a few moments before. Despite his care, he saw the way Hisoka’s shoulders tensed just before Tatsumi spoke.

“Kurosaki-kun,” he said, taking just as great care to keep the tone of his voice even and non-threatening. “May I have a moment?”

Slowly, Hisoka dropped the handful of sakura blossoms he’d been holding and turned to face Tatsumi. For a split second, Tatsumi could clearly see the fear in Hisoka’s wide green eyes, before they hardened. He could almost envision the protective walls closing down around Hisoka, and he felt a brief stab of sympathy, thinking to himself that he could only imagine the pain this boy must have felt, every time memory threatened to move past the barricade.

“Aa,” Hisoka breathed, nodding once, curtly. Tatsumi knew he didn’t mean to be rude; this was normal behavior for Hisoka, especially when he was so tense.

“I’ve noticed that you and Tsuzuki-san seem to be having a few problems,” Tatsumi said, getting straight to the point. Hisoka’s expression remained placid. “I know that how you solve these problems is entirely your business. But I hate to see your partnership suffer.”

That, finally, caused a reaction, although it was limited only to the slightest twitch of an eyebrow.

“I’m sure you’re aware that you and Tsuzuki are the single most effective pair in the entire summoning department,” Tatsumi continued, in the same quiet, measured tone. His eyes were fixed unfailingly on Hisoka’s, and if the intensity of his icy blue gaze bothered Hisoka, the boy showed no sign of it. “Your results are above and beyond anything we could have ever hoped for. We cannot afford for your partnership to be compromised.”

The eyebrow twitched a little further upwards.

“Any personal issues you may have with Tsuzuki should be settled privately, and preferably as soon as possible,” Tatsumi said evenly, keenly aware that in this case, giving Hisoka the impression that he was taking a hard line would be the best course of action. “For your results to begin to suffer because of this small squabble would be highly undesirable.”

For several long moments, Hisoka was silent, but the line of his eyesight had drifted from Tatsumi’s eyes to somewhere over Tatsumi’s right shoulder.

“Wakatteiru,” Hisoka said quietly a moment later, and without another word, he turned on his heel and left.

Tatsumi let out a slow sigh, adjusting his glasses. He sincerely hoped that his words would have the correct effect on Hisoka. Truthfully, he was more concerned about both Hisoka and Tsuzuki than he was about agency statistics.

He glanced at his watch, then back towards the building.

He knew full well what day tomorrow was, and his primary concern at the moment was how Hisoka and Tsuzuki would manage to make it through the day if Hisoka didn’t find some way to let go of his fear and let his partner help him.

Resigning himself to the fact that he wouldn’t know the outcome of the situation until the morrow, Tatsumi forcefully shook off his concern and started the slow journey down the walk, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply the scent of the cherry trees as he went.

Tsuzuki had said that he only found the cherry trees beautiful because of the knowledge that their lives were brief…mortal. Because of this, he found something lacking in the ever-blooming sakura of Enma-Cho. And he had said that he felt the same way about humans.

Tatsumi could only reassure himself with his assumption that despite his words, Tsuzuki found nothing lacking in the one who had so captured his attention these past few years. Hisoka, for all of his grouchiness, possessed an eerily persuasive beauty that Tatsumi was sure Tsuzuki was all too aware of.

He really didn’t care whether Hisoka and Tsuzuki ever managed to admit to their feelings; it wasn’t his business to care. But an admittance of the underlying principle---trust---was required, every once in a while, and Tatsumi could tell that for Hisoka, the time for that reaffirmation was just about upon him.

They may not be real; they may not truly have life. Nonetheless, I find them beautiful, Tatsumi thought as he stared up at the cherry trees above his head. And that, he supposed, was where he had always fundamentally differed from Tsuzuki…and he always would.