Glossary:

aa - yeah
arigatou - thank you
baka - idiot
bon - little boy---Watari’s affectionate nickname for Hisoka
gomen nasai - I’m so sorry
hai - yes; okay
hontou ni - really
hontou ni hontou ni? - really really? (Picture a little kid ;P)
iie - no
Ju-Oh-Cho - Japanese bureau for processing the spirits of the deceased
kawaii - cute
na - hey
nani? - what?
sankyuu = thank you (Obviously…amazing the amount of English that’s sprinkled throughout the Japanese language, isn’t it?)
tasukete - help me; save me
yamero - stop (masculine)

*****

The next day, for the first time in weeks, Tatsumi found himself slightly behind his self-imposed schedule as he rushed to deposit various forms and reports to the offices of the Ju-Oh-Cho building, stopping only briefly into the Chief’s office to receive a few updates before he hurried down to the lower levels, intent on finishing his work before lunch time. As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner into the hallway, however, he stopped in his tracks, catching his breath quickly and silently.

Hisoka was standing at the far end of the hallway---or rather, he was trying to stand, his hands pressed tightly against the wall as he tried to force himself up. His skin was so pale it was almost transparent, and his teeth were gritted against an obvious wave of pain, his eyes tightly squeezed shut. Tatsumi watched, breath caught in the back of his throat, as Hisoka slowly turned around and collapsed back against the wall, his trembling legs barely holding him up. He was still for several moments, heaving in a few quavering breaths, before he slowly opened his eyes and glanced downwards. Tatsumi’s eyes followed Hisoka’s gaze, and he sucked in another breath when he caught sight of what held Hisoka enraptured.

Hisoka had obviously torn open his shirt at some point, and the blood-red pattern etched brightly across his pale skin made Tatsumi’s heart start a slow, steady pound of anger. As usual, he showed no sign of his ire, merely closing his mouth tightly, but nonetheless, he stepped further back, hiding himself mostly behind the corner, wondering whether Hisoka might pick up on his feelings. He didn’t even bother to consider going to Hisoka’s aid; he knew he could only do more harm than good, especially since he couldn’t control his instinctive impulse of rage.

It was the first time he’d seen the curse mark. He hadn’t expected it to affect him so profoundly, but somehow…the sight of it made Tatsumi think of the one who had carved it so precisely into Hisoka’s skin, and that thought made Tatsumi’s blood boil. He supposed he had never hated anyone quite so intensely as he had hated Muraki Kazutaka the day Tatsumi had witnessed the power Muraki held over both Hisoka and Tsuzuki. That man possessed the ability to hurt both of Tatsumi’s friends more with a simple look than most could hope to harm them in a lifetime.

“Iie…” Hisoka whispered desperately, his head falling back against the wall with a soft thump. “Yamero!”

“Hisoka!”

Tatsumi opened his eyes---he’d closed them briefly, to shut out the sight of the boy’s agony---and let out a slow breath as he watched Tsuzuki bound from the bottom of the stairs at the other end of the hallway to his partner’s side. Tsuzuki took in Hisoka’s feverish state, and the state of his shirt, the curse mark glowing crimson behind it, in one glance, and in the next instant he was leaning as close to Hisoka as he could without risking being burned, literally, if Hisoka reacted badly to his presence. One hand resting just beside Hisoka’s head, he leaned down, peering with concern at Hisoka’s face, still taut with pain, eyes closed tightly.

“What’s going on?”

Tatsumi didn’t jump when he heard the whisper behind him. Instead, he simply moved slightly, allowing Watari a chance to glance around him and take in the scene. He heard the way Watari caught his breath, just as startled and pained as Tatsumi had been.

“What’s wrong?” Watari whispered. The genuine worry in his words surprised Tatsumi, and he realized that Watari’s curiosity all along had been genuine.

“It’s his anniversary,” Tatsumi answered quietly, his eyes still fixed on the pair down the hallway. Despite wanting to turn away, he found himself fixated, unable to tear himself away.

“His what?” Watari questioned, brow furrowing.

“His anniversary,” Tatsumi breathed, and he finally turned and fixed Watari under his gaze. Watari shivered slightly, as though the lingering anger in Tatsumi’s chill blue eyes physically affected him. “Don’t you ever feel this way on the anniversary of your death, Watari-san?”

Watari’s eyes widened and he let out a long breath, closing his eyes before turning back to glance at the two down the hallway, who still hadn’t moved. Tsuzuki was obviously trying to determine whether his help was welcome, but Hisoka was still too busy trying to regain himself, shuddering deeply as he pressed himself back against the wall.

“Oh…I forgot,” Watari said, so softly Tatsumi had to move a bit closer to hear. “I forgot…oh, Bon…”

Tatsumi merely nodded, slowly turning his own gaze back to the pair.

“Hisoka,” Tsuzuki whispered again, more desperately this time. “Hisoka!”

Finally, Hisoka seemed to become aware of Tsuzuki’s presence. Though his eyes didn’t open, he jumped, pressing himself impossibly closer back against the wall. The trembling in his legs threatened to drop him to the floor. His breathing started to come harder, the sharp sound of each intake ringing through the silence of the corridor.

“Don’t touch me,” Hisoka said, and his tone might have seemed harsh if it hadn’t been so heavily tainted with fear.

Tsuzuki’s expression of concern grew worse, his amethyst eyes bright with his sympathy. His brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

“I didn’t,” he whispered, but even as he said it his eyes dropped, fixing on the place where his wrist ever so lightly brushed Hisoka’s shoulder. Eyes widening, Tsuzuki quickly pulled back the hand, clutching it with the other hand as though it had been burned.

“Gomen nasai!” he said softly, closing his eyes, obviously silently berating himself for a second before he opened them again and refocused on Hisoka. “I didn’t mean to get so close…Hisoka…I didn’t mean to…”

He faltered as he watched Hisoka continue to quiver, his forehead deeply creased with pain.

“I…I’ll go if you want…I…” Tsuzuki murmured, casting one last desperate glance at Hisoka before he started to turn away.

“Tsuzuki,” Hisoka breathed, and Tsuzuki instantly froze, glancing down to where Hisoka’s fingers had twisted around the fabric on one of his shoulders, trying to keep him in place. He turned his eyes back to Hisoka’s, and found them open and staring at him…pleading with him.

“Don’t leave me,” Hisoka whispered, his other arm clutched around his middle, trying to quell the trembling, but it only seemed to grow worse. “I didn’t mean to…I didn’t want to say…”

“Hisoka,” Tsuzuki whispered, taking a step forward, but stopping when Hisoka again closed his eyes, wincing as his hand slipped away from Tsuzuki’s shoulder.

Tatsumi didn’t need to be empathic to know that Hisoka was lost in a world of pain and fear, the memories of his fateful encounter with Muraki on this very night six years past leaving him incapable of facing his fear alone. The way Hisoka’s face twisted, the way he whimpered and clawed against the wall as though seeking purchase, made it perfectly clear that he was reliving every anguishing moment of that night, over and over, inside his mind.

Tsuzuki knew this feeling well.

“Hisoka,” he said softly, moving closer until he was again standing directly in front of the much smaller man, his hand again resting against the wall beside Hisoka’s head. “Hisoka, I will never leave you. I promised…I promised myself that I…”

Hisoka’s eyes slowly opened, and Tsuzuki caught his breath, then forced himself to smile slightly before he continued.

“I promised myself I would never leave you. You’re not alone.”

“Tsuzuki,” Hisoka whispered, staring at his partner so desperately that he seemed almost to be trying to see through him, to a point beyond. His trembling started to slow.

“Hisoka,” Tsuzuki returned, his smile becoming genuine as he took another careful half-step forward and reached out his free hand, palm up. Hisoka glanced down at it and hesitated for a moment, closing his eyes, before he let out a long, quivering breath and placed his smaller hand in Tsuzuki's. Tsuzuki intertwined his fingers with Hisoka’s and curled the other hand gently around Hisoka’s waist, pulling him closer, until with a quiet moan Hisoka moved forward and pressed himself to Tsuzuki, his own free arm wrapping around Tsuzuki’s neck as he buried his face in Tsuzuki’s shoulder. A second later, Tsuzuki carefully took his hand back, releasing Hisoka’s fingers, and instead laced his hand back through Hisoka’s hair, stroking gently.

The effect of the contact on Hisoka was almost instant; Tatsumi and Watari watched, for the first time receiving an explicit visual display of the power of Hisoka’s empathy. All the anger and fear and pain Hisoka had been drowning in sank back into the depths of his mind, unable to stand against the sheer power of the love and sympathy he felt from Tsuzuki. In that moment, the two of them might as well have been sharing one body; their emotions had phased into one being, their souls twining around each other. It was very rare that Hisoka would allow anyone close enough for this to happen; despite years of practice at keeping his abilities locked away, it was still too easy for him to take in the emotions of others. He never would have allowed anyone else to deliberately synchronize with his mind, but in times like this, when his own mind offered no refuge, all he had left was to draw on the strength of Tsuzuki’s emotions. Everyone else had the power to hurt him; Tsuzuki could only heal him.

Tatsumi blinked when he heard Hisoka start to cry, a desperate, keening sound that he had heard once before, and never wanted to hear again. Even the most direly wounded animal could surely never make a sound quite like that, a sound that had such a vivid capability of overtaking even the coldest mind with sorrow. When he heard the soft sound of Tsuzuki’s voice, whispering quiet placations into Hisoka’s ear, Tatsumi finally seemed to come to himself. His anger began to rise again, this time directed towards himself, as he turned away and walked towards the stairs.

He knew he should never have seen this. This was for Hisoka and Tsuzuki, and them alone.

“Tatsumi…” Watari whispered as he hurried to follow, his owl flying along just as quietly.

“Enough,” Tatsumi murmured, but his tone was unusually sharp. “We’ve seen enough.”

“H…hai,” Watari agreed slowly. He sounded sadder than Tatsumi had ever heard him, but he didn’t stop to wonder about the turn of Watari’s thoughts as he quickly made his way back up towards his office, knowing that it would take him several hours he couldn’t afford to erase the memory of the painful scene in the hallway below from his mind.

*****

The next day, much to Tatsumi’s surprise, everything appeared to have returned to normal. Hisoka was at his desk precisely on time, while Tsuzuki wandered in several minutes late. The partners exchanged their usual casual set of greetings, and Tsuzuki fetched them each a cup of coffee, which he always seemed to do, despite the fact that Hisoka rarely drank it.

The morning proceeded quite quietly, Hisoka bent diligently over the reports he was finishing while Tsuzuki worked for a while, lounged for a longer while tossing pencils at the ceiling, worked for another few minutes, and finally drifted peacefully to sleep. Hisoka ignored all of this, which he tended to do if he wanted to get his own work done and not worry about disciplining his partner. Eventually, half an hour before lunch time, Tsuzuki woke up, muttered an apology which only received the usual “Baka” in return, and got back to work as the clock ticked on towards lunch.

Precisely at twelve o’clock, Tatsumi made his way out of his office to fetch himself some more coffee and stopped at the counter, pretending to be busy getting cream and sugar---which he didn’t ever use---when he noticed Watari approaching from the other direction, heading directly towards Tsuzuki and Hisoka’s desks.

“Finished!!!” Watari shouted merrily just as he reached the desks, and while Hisoka, who had sensed Watari’s approach, only responded by glancing up curiously, Tsuzuki jumped nearly three feet in the air, badly startled. “I’ve finally finished it!!!”

“Finished what?” Hisoka asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing as he peered at the bottle clutched in Watari’s hand.

“My sex-changing potion!!” Watari exclaimed, as though shocked that Hisoka hadn’t known what the pink-colored concoction was the moment he saw it. “I’m sure I’ve finally perfected it!!”

For several long, agonizing seconds, Tsuzuki and Hisoka both stared at Watari, Hisoka’s expression entirely apathetic and Tsuzuki’s conveying the impression of a deep stupor. Then, in perfect unison, the two partners each scrambled to their feet and scattered in either direction, putting some distance between themselves and Watari. Hisoka’s countenance had become wary, like that of a cornered animal that was trying to decide the best angle from which to bite back, and Tsuzuki’s stupefied expression had dissolved into a look of worry.

“Oh, come on, you two,” Watari said, puffing out an exasperated breath that unsettled several of the bright blond strands of hair drooping over his face. On his shoulder, 003 hooted loudly and flapped her wings, appearing to glare at Hisoka. “You know it can’t hurt you. Now come on, Tsuzuki, let’s have you be the first to try it…”

As he spoke, he took a couple of steps towards Tsuzuki, who hastily scrambled around the next desk, placing some more distance between himself and the mad chemist.

“Stay back!” Tsuzuki warned, pointing a finger and wagging it warningly. His eyes, oddly enough, were dancing with something suspiciously like mirth. “I wouldn’t drink that stuff if it was the last fluid on Earth!”

Watari opened and closed his mouth once, then frowned and turned, refocusing his attention on Hisoka.

“Bon,” he began, taking several steps towards the smaller man, but that was all he managed to do before he found himself face to face with a very large, extremely nasty-looking Magnum.

“Don’t come any closer,” Hisoka warned, his thumb on the safety, and strangely enough, the look in his eyes had also dissolved into something approaching humor.

Watari stopped short, letting out a quick breath, and then frowned thunderously.

“Now, very slowly and carefully, I want you to lift both hands where I can see them,” Hisoka said calmly, keeping his gun steadily trained on Watari’s head. Watari’s owl hooted disconsolately. “Next, I want you to slowly place the potion on that desk just there”---he gestured with his gun to his own desk, next to him---“and then, very slowly, I want you to take four steps back and stand with your hands in the air.”

Watari’s eyebrow twitched---for a moment, he nearly lost his composure---but then he quickly coughed to hide the chuckle that was bubbling up in his throat and did as Hisoka had commanded, placing the potion down on the desk and then taking four steps backward, keeping his hands clearly visible.

“Tsuzuki,” Hisoka said curtly, glancing briefly towards his partner, who hastily dropped the hand he had been sniggering behind. “Would you rather do the honors, or should I?”

“Oh, I think you should,” Tsuzuki answered, in his absolute most serious tone, his face stonily set with determination. “But I’d be happy to assist.”

“In that case…” Hisoka said, and he approached Watari slowly from the front, replacing his gun in its holster at the small of his back before he glanced up to make sure Tsuzuki was in place.

“You know we have to search you, right?” Hisoka asked, raising both eyebrows and regarding Watari severely, his brilliant green eyes positively alight.

“To make sure you’re not carrying anything else suspicious,” Tsuzuki said from just behind Watari’s shoulder, and when Watari briefly glanced back, he caught a glimpse of the hard look in Tsuzuki’s amethyst eyes…it almost looked like he was trying to contain the powerful urge to do something. The fact that his lips kept twitching also nearly gave him away.

“Well, I must say I have to protest this trea…EHHH!!” Watari began, and then his voice rose into a near-shriek, punctuated by the laughter that burst out of him when Tsuzuki and Hisoka both attacked him at the same time, Hisoka taking his front and Tsuzuki taking his back, both of them doing a fair approximation of trying to tickle Watari to death. He writhed in the slight space between the two men, trying to get free. “Ah, iie, not there, you know I…EEHEEE!! TATSUMI, TASUKETE!!!”

This last shout echoed through the office, which was now filled to capacity with fellow co-workers enjoying the show. Tatsumi only shook his head, hiding his own chuckles behind the hand he used to adjust his glasses. 003 had long since taken flight and was now fluttering around in the air over the three men, making frantic little hoots to display her own excitement.

“I’m unarmed, I’m unarmed!!” Watari tried then, just as Tsuzuki finally discovered Watari’s most ticklish spot, right at the small of his back. “GRAHHHH!! TSUZUKI! OK, I give in, I give in!!”

“Well, Tsuzuki?” Hisoka asked, pausing for a moment and looking over Watari’s shoulder, seeking his partner’s eyes.

“He seems to be telling the truth, Hisoka,” Tsuzuki said gravely, turning to eye Watari suspiciously. “But we’ll be watching you closely from now on, Watari…and don’t you forget it.”

“You’re free to go,” Hisoka said in his usual crisp tones, dropping his hands and taking a few steps back. His eyes were dancing again, his mouth curved in a small smile.

“Better luck next time, Watari,” Tsuzuki said cheerfully, clapping him on the back before he made his way around to his desk.

“How embarrassing,” Watari muttered, brushing himself off and laughing when 003 fluttered down, eyeing him as though he was mad. “I’ll get you for this, you two…make no mistake.”

“Idle threats, Watari,” Hisoka said smoothly, taking his seat and staring at the pink potion for a moment before he shook his head. “Idle threats.”

“Just you wait,” Watari said then, ignoring the wild applause of the co-workers around them before they started to scatter. Watari grinned and lifted his eyes, looking around until he spotted who he was searching for. “Tatsumi! Lunch in five?”

“Hai,” Tatsumi called back, voice mildly muffled by the hand he had over the lower half of his face, his fingers again pushing his glasses further up on his nose.

“OK!” Watari said, giving Tatsumi a quick ‘V’ sign before he vanished back out into the hallway. When he reappeared a few moments later carrying a take-out bag, he found Tatsumi still standing at the counter, pouring himself another cup of coffee as he surreptitiously eyed Tsuzuki and Hisoka.

Hisoka had opened an enormous tome and was poring through it with his usual enthusiasm, but Tsuzuki was fidgeting around in his seat, his eyes flickering back and forth from the clock to his partner and back. It took him a few moments, but finally he worked up his nerve, clearing his throat and coughing nervously before he leaned forward slightly.

“Na, Hisoka…”

“Nani?” Hisoka murmured distractedly, without bothering to look up.

“Shouldn’t we go get some lunch? It’s nearly half past; we don’t have much time left…”

Hisoka glanced up at him, intense green eyes freezing Tsuzuki in place for a moment, afraid that he might have crossed the border again.

“You go ahead,” Hisoka said then, gently, his eyes softening with fondness before he dropped his eyes back to his book.

Tsuzuki sat back in his chair, looking disappointed, as though the prospect of eating lunch alone, which he usually did anyway, seemed thoroughly unappealing.

“Na, Hisoka…” he began again, just as Hisoka spoke up with a quiet, “Tsuzuki…”

Both of them paused, staring at each other, and then they both smiled slightly.

“Tsuzuki…” Hisoka said again, and this time he reached into one of his desk drawers, pulling out something which he then tossed across the desk. Tsuzuki caught it, eyes going wide with surprise. It was one of his favorite kinds of cinnamon bun, the kind that caused him to miss so many meetings. When he looked back up, Hisoka was smiling at him, eyes still soft.

“Arigatou,” Hisoka finished, his tone unusually warm. “For yesterday.”

“Hisoka…” Tsuzuki began, his voice unusually hoarse. Then he coughed again and grinned. “This is for me? Hontou ni?”

“Hontou ni,” Hisoka agreed, nodding once and turning his eyes back down to his book.

“Hontou ni hontou ni?”

Hisoka sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Aa…hontou ni.”

In a flash, Hisoka was being accosted by what appeared to be an overlarge puppy, kneeling in front of Hisoka with his hands on Hisoka’s lap, and everyone present could have sworn that Tsuzuki was wagging his nonexistent tail madly.

“Hisoka!!” Tsuzuki cried happily, beaming up at his partner with eyes closed, a big, stupid grin on his face. “Sankyuuuuu!!”

Everyone cringed as a loud, distinctly hollow sound rang through the office space.

“Baka,” Hisoka muttered as he lifted his book from where it had cracked down against Tsuzuki’s skull. Tsuzuki’s grin only got wider as he watched little animated cinnamon buns dance around his head for a few moments, taking no notice of the way Hisoka sighed tolerantly and went back to his reading.

“Ite,” Tsuzuki moaned softly a moment later as he got up, idly rubbing at the monstrous bump that had popped up on his head. After that he fell silent, sitting quietly at his desk and happily munching on his prize.

“Na, ‘soka,” he mumbled through a mouthful of cinnamon bun, several moments later. “We could still go out for lunch…we could go to that new American place, you know, the one with the really delicious black forest cake…you looked so kawaii with whipped cream on your nose…”

“Get stuffed, ‘zuki,” came the inevitable reply, spoken in a remarkably good-natured tone, and Tsuzuki snorted softly, trying to keep from laughing, before he contented himself with finishing his cinnamon bun and turning back to his work.

“Well,” Tatsumi said dryly from where he still stood at the counter, sipping at his coffee and turning to glance at Watari. “At least things are finally back to normal.”

“Well,” Watari said, in a similar tone, unable to contain the wide grin that split his face as he refilled his own mug, “at least as normal as can be expected…”