Kami no Matsuei: Nocturnes

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[RisuChan]

Okay... here's the long-threatened Hisoka & Cain nocturne bit! Most of it was plausible, but I didn't want people to *have* to write around the ending that I came up with... ^__~
ps: starting out with Hisoka's POV for scene-setting...
---------------

The second night...

It was almost midnight, and Hisoka was utterly exhausted. He'd barely managed a few hours of sleep the night before; the day had been spent between studied evasion of the little blonde girl who asked far too many unsettling questions and a fruitless search for a servant who wouldn't stare at him and then make
some excuse and hurry away when he asked to be given a man's clothes instead of a woman's. Couple that with an evening spent running from the Hokkaido girls and his stark point-blank refusal to get back into a bed containing Tsuzuki's bagel crumbs, and Hisoka decided that this had to be high up there on the list
of the worst assignments of his life. Or rather his un-life.

"Hisoka-chan! Where are youuuuu?"

Hisoka swore under his breath, inching his way along the hall in pitch blackness so that a light wouldn't give him away. His seeking hand encountered a doorknob;
in the first gift of mercy the day had given him, the doorknob turned. Thanking any gods willing to listen, Hisoka slipped inside and closed the door as quietly
as he could manage.

He'd wandered into someone's bedroom; there was a lamp burning on a side table, but the only thing Hisoka had attention for was a tidily made bed completely
free of Tsuzuki's bagel crumbs. Hisoka twisted his arms around between his shoulders for a moment, struggling to reach the laces which would let him out of the rigidly
corseted dress; then he surrendered, because he was tired enough to fall asleep standing up, whether or not he was in a corset at the time, and the bed was right there waiting.

Somebody's going to want this room. There's a lamp lit.

It's almost midnight. If they're out this late, I'm sure I can get a couple hours of sleep before they come back... and maybe they'll be drunk enough to think they went into the wrong room...

Hisoka threw himself face-down on the bed and sighed in absolute bliss, then pulled a pillow out from under the bedcover and curled up with it and closed his eyes.

* * *

From the shadows in the bay window, Cain Hargreaves cautiously unclenched his grip on the handle of his sword-cane.

Here not for me, but for the bed? I don't know whether to be relieved or insulted.

Lightly, cautiously, Cain crept across the room to take a closer look at his uninvited visitor. The dress looked oddly familiar -- he rubbed at his jaw reminiscently
-- no, wait, the hair's short... that odd cross-dressing boy...? And...

Something else was strange -- Cain picked up the lamp to bring it a bit closer. The boy was lying on his stomach; the dress left his shoulders bare, and he'd
dropped the shawl which he'd worn to try to hide his face and hair earlier. And on his back...

* * *

"Who did that to you?"

Hisoka flinched at the unexpected voice. In a moment's half-sleeping disorientation, he wondered whether he'd misheard, because he'd expected outrage at a stolen
bed, and what he'd actually heard made no sense. There was plenty of outrage, but no feeling of threat, either. Now completely disoriented, Hisoka pushed
himself upright and dug a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry -- is this your bed...?" He blinked again and scrubbed at his eyes, and then stared up at the face of the young count in utter bemusement. He was obviously incandescently furious; and, just as obviously, none of it was directed at Hisoka himself. Still too sleep-fogged to put any more pieces together, Hisoka stammered, "I... er... Don't shout at the servants, I
let myself in; you ought to keep the door locked, with Muraki here... um..."

The count's eyes were like molten gold in the lamplight, and his silence was distinctly uncomfortable to listen to.

"Look, I'm really sorry," Hisoka said, fighting back a yawn. "I just can't go into the other wing or the girls will sic Terazuma on me again and Tsuzuki's gotten crumbs all over the bed and I don't suppose you might let me sleep on a couch somewhere? And maybe loan me a pair of clothes too...?"

Very, very quietly, Cain reached out and touched Hisoka's shoulder; the incendiary rage burning in him was almost like a brand touched to Hisoka's skin, and he gasped and pulled away.

"Nerve damage too...?" Cain whispered, and set the lamp down with a hand shaking with fury; he spoke in a voice that might have sounded reasonable if Hisoka hadn't felt the same implacable rage burning like molten steel just beneath the surface. "Tell me. Who did that to you...?"

Staring up at him, Hisoka put a hand to his own shoulder, where he could still feel the heat of that anger. His fingertips met the old, whitely faded scar
tissue, and then he realized what was meant.

[RisuChan]

"I think I'd better not tell you that," the boy said, with eyes far too old for his age. "It's long since over with, so..."

"No," Cain said, digging the palm of his hand into his eyes to try to block out a vision burned into his memory. "No, it's not. Because if there is a reason you should not tell me, then the bastard who did that to you
is alive and here among us now; if he were not, then you would have no reason to hide him from me. So, all in all, I think you're going to tell me."

"With all due respect, sir... no, I'm not."

"If there's a sadist here who likes beating children and that bastard gets his hands on Merryweather--" Cain lunged forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. "You're going to tell me his name!"

And then the boy screamed, and Cain found himself being blasted across the room by a force he couldn't see; he hit the corner of the mantelpiece badly,
felt something tear, and then it was gone, and he slumped to the floor gasping in pain.

God...! I think that cracked a rib -- what are these... things...? He's not human... not anymore...

"I'm sorry," the boy whispered, huddled in the bed shaking like he'd just been shot through with agony from just that one touch. "Mr. Hargreaves, I'm sorry, but... don't touch me like that, don't touch me when you're..." He stopped, and gulped hard, and said, "Don't touch me when you're angry enough to kill. Because I... I feel it..."

Feeling blood trickling down his side from scraping against the stone, Cain clamped his elbow against his ribcage hard in order to try to give himself enough support to stand up without setting off another spasm of pain. "You're an empath...?"

The boy nodded a little, still shivering. "I'm sorry if I hurt you -- I... it's just... you were burning me."

Cain laughed despite himself, and ran a hand down his face. "I'm the one who owes the apology. If I'd known... --I'm amazed an empath could bear even being in the same room with me, really. I'll leave you in peace..."

"This is your room," Hisoka mumbled, shame-faced.

"This is my house," Cain replied. "All of the rooms are mine. So I can take another for the night."

Rather stiffly, he bent toward the cedar chest which held spare blankets, and hissed through his teeth at the sharp sting from protesting ribs as he pulled the lid open. Hisoka made a sharp sound of shock.

"Who...?"

Cain straightened carefully, with a blanket in his arms. "'Who' what?"

His eyes haunted by too much understanding of others' pain, Hisoka asked very gently, "Mr. Hargreaves, who was it that gave you your scars...?"

Damn -- I should've realized; if the mantelpiece cut through to my skin, of course it tore the shirt -- Fighting off a completely irrational wave of resentment, Cain struggled with himself for a moment. No, he's not Riff. But if anyone in the world would understand, it would be someone who'd suffered the same treatment... and I can hardly tell him 'none of his business' if I expect him to give me that name.

"My father," Cain murmured, and took a dressing-robe out of the armoire as well, so that no one else would be able to see the scars when he left the room. "It was my father. --Tomorrow, when Riff wakes up, I'll have him
ask you for the name you're hiding," he added. "Riff is a far kinder person than I am; I should imagine he won't burn you the same way."

"Mr. Hargreaves, I won't tell your servant either."

Cain fought back the urge to drive a fist into the wall. Making an effort to sound more reasonable than he felt, he said, "Why not?"

"Because it's not that man's time to die. I know that."

"If he's here now, with the lot of you, then it certainly isn't his time to live either," Cain said, darkly. "But that in itself has just given me my answer, you know. There's only one whom you brought here under restraints, and Merry seems fixated on the idea that her cards indicate there's only one among you who's still properly alive..."

Hisoka's eyes widened in shock.

"Of course, I can't test whether or not he was the living one without watching him die," Cain continued, carefully easing the dressing-robe around his shoulders. "So it's quite convenient that once I find the one who does die, the question will answer itself, won't it?"

"Mr. Hargreaves -- no. You're not going to kill him."

Cain gave him a particularly brilliant smile. "But as you yourselves have observed, there are a startling number of inexplicable fatalities around me; who's to say that he won't find his way into one of them? Since this isn't his time to live and all..."

"Don't make me take your memories of this conversation from you," Hisoka said, flatly. "I can, and I will, if you make me."

"If he lays a hand on anyone under this roof, he will regret the day he was born. And you will regret trying to stand in my way as I seek to protect those under my care. You may be immortal, but you are hardly immune to pain. And I've seen enough pain in my life to make you wish you'd never been able to imagine empathy."

Hisoka stepped between him and the door, looking at him quietly. "We are taking precautions," he said. "Muraki is our responsibility. And because of that, in a way, he is under our protection. So I give you my word that he will not be permitted to harm anyone else while he is here. I think he would be unlikely to take any interest in harming you or your family, in any case; the one he wants most of all is Tsuzuki. In return, you are going to give me your word that you will not seek out opportunities to give him his death."

"You protect the man who gave you those scars...?"

Hisoka sighed quietly. "Look into your own heart for a minute," he said. "How long did you spend thinking that your father beat you because he loved you? I know better than that; I don't pretend that his death would
grieve me. On the contrary... I want to be the one to give his death to him. And only time will tell if I'll have the chance or not. I don't intend to let you take that away from me... just like I don't intend to take from you
the opportunity to have your reckoning with your father. Now. Are you going to give me your word or am I going to erase this conversation from your mind?"

"I think we understand each other far more than either of us could have anticipated," Cain said, rueful, and offered his hand. "His death is yours; you have the best right to claim it, after all."

Hisoka hesitated for a moment, then shook his offered hand with just a bit of discomfort showing. "Thank you. --Now, honestly, this is your room..."

"If Terazuma was the one who went rampaging around costing several hundred pounds' worth of damage to the furnishings last night, I have every incentive to keep you away from him," Cain replied, droll-voiced. "Besides,
I don't imagine you can possibly get out of that dress by yourself, can you? Turn around."

"You know how to get someone out of one of these ridiculous outfits?" Hisoka asked, both amazed and relieved.

Cain coughed delicately, and said, "Well, one might say that I've had sufficient motivation to learn..."

"Motivation?"

"Are you actually that young?"

The boy blinked twice, and then his face turned a charming shade of crimson. "Oh. Oh! Right... er... never mind..."

A few minutes later, Hisoka stretched both arms up over his head, wrapped in one of Cain's nightshirts, and he looked to be on the verge of tears of gratitude.

"Thank you -- this is the first time in forty-eight hours I've been able to breathe. And you're not that much taller than me either; if I'd raided Tsuzuki's wardrobe I'd have spent the day tripping over the ends
of the pantlegs... thank you!" The rest of it was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn; he rubbed both hands down his face, and sat down on the floor. "I'm
not taking your bed away from you," he mumbled, "but if you don't begrudge me a corner of the floor where the Hokkaido girls won't find me, just for one night..."

"How can I let my guest sleep on the floor?"

"I slammed you into the fireplace earlier," Hisoka said. "You shouldn't go sleep on the stones after that; you won't be able to move tomorrow if you do." He took the blankets Cain had gotten out of the chest earlier,
and tossed them onto the floor, and curled up on top of them.

"Hisoka..."

"Just let me sleep...!" He yawned again, and pulled a corner of the blanket over his head, and mumbled, "G'night..."

Cain studied the situation for a stymied moment, tried to bend enough to pick the boy up, and stopped short at a sharp protest from the injured ribs. With a rueful sigh, he replied, "Good night."

[RisuChan]

In the darkest part of the night, Hisoka woke again at the awareness of a huddle of absolute misery; it took a few sleepy moments to realize that it wasn't his own, because it felt so familiar. An incoherent tangle of terror,
pain, shame, and such profound isolation-- Hisoka had to sit up and scrub the sleep out of his eyes before he was completely certain it wasn't one of his own nightmares of childhood memories. It was almost as clear as words: why can't anyone see me? It hurts...

Obscurely guilt-stricken at the memory of throwing his host into the edge of the mantlepiece, Hisoka crept closer to try to tell whether the dream was tied into the physical ache of scratched and bruised ribs. ...No, this was an entirely different sort of pain; the physical ache was still there, but barely noticed in the too-familiar ache of a far older wound. Bracing himself, Hisoka held a palm just above Cain's shoulder.

...running... a crowd of dark-dressed servants who never saw him, never spoke; nowhere to hide... the only one who saw him was terror incarnate, and it followed unerringly, relentlessly, laughing at him as he ran, alone, through an uncaring crowd... even when he clung and begged, none of them saw him, no one would speak... always alone with the terror that never stopped hunting him as it laughed...


It felt like an old, old nightmare; the perspective was a very young child's, because the crowd he ran through was twice his height or more. The isolation felt too familiar; if it weren't for the fact that Hisoka himself
had never had the freedom to run, it could have been one of his own dreams.

Now I think I know why he said an empath probably couldn't bear to be in the same room...

Fear and self-preservation struggled with Hisoka's own bone-deep awareness of that pain; cursing himself for a fool, Hisoka climbed up onto the bed beside him and took his hands.

...CAUGHT -- there was only one person who would catch him here!...

It's all right, Hisoka said. I hear you. I see you.
You're not alone anymore.

Who...? Hazy in his sleeping child-mind was a premonition of a tall pale-crowned angel reaching toward him, with such a familiar presence...

If he could, I'm sure he'd hold you through your nightmares too, Hisoka said. He's only human, though, so he can't. But I'm not human anymore. Is that all right?

After a moment's contemplation, the tangle of nightmare-haunted semi-consciousness responded with, Fine. Humans hurt.

Yes, they do, Hisoka agreed quietly. They hurt on purpose, and sometimes they hurt by accident, but they don't have to. --Come on. I'm not all that good at happy dreams, but at least I can find you a more peaceful
one... shall we go see the beach?

Hisoka's favorite memory of the beach by his home was from a warm summer night; the air was thick with the scent of the garden flowers, and no one else had been there. The dark-haired boy sitting beside him said, This isn't my beach.

No, this one is mine. It's in Japan.

Why can I see a beach I've never seen before...?

Isn't it better than where you were? Maybe this way we can both get some rest...

Even unconscious and shadowed by decade-old nightmares, his bright quick mind caught on that. My nightmares kept you awake?

Definitely, Hisoka replied, a little more sourly than he
meant.

But nobody could hear me...

I can hear you, Hisoka answered. I can see you. Even if you thought no one could, I can. Maybe if you believe that deeply enough, you can let that nightmare go. Maybe I can too...

Despite himself, his mind flashed on the inside of that cage, and his parents' faces; he was huddled in the corner, and every bone in his body hurt with the curse that was killing him. There was a flash of terror, and then defensive outrage -- and it wasn't his own; he'd brought his dream-visitor there too --

MY beach, the dreamer beside him said fiercely, and dragged them both away; the water there was much colder, but the stars were the same stars, and Hisoka felt warm hands against his shoulders, steadying him. My beach. Further away from -- that. Are you all right?

I will be, I think, Hisoka said, shaken. Don't let go.

I won't, he replied. Don't you let go either. Promise?

Hisoka nodded. I promise. We'll watch out for each other here. Nobody will catch us that way, right? So... it's all right to relax... I'm so tired of nightmares...

A sleepy head beside him nodded toward his shoulder. I'm so tired too...

* * *

If anyone had told Cain Hargreaves that his soul's vision of paradise had nothing to do with waking up in a woman's arms after a night of passion, and that instead it had to do with waking up holding a boy's hands after a night of sleeping -- just lying there sleeping; what a blow to his reputation! If someone had told him that his soul was that prosaic, he would likely have broken a rib laughing. Since the rib had already been broken for him, though, he thought it would be wiser to forego the laughing and let the boy rest. If peaceful nights without nightmares were that rare for them both, then he probably needed it...

Dimly, out in the hall, he heard an uncomfortably familiar echo: giggles.

"Hisoka-chaaaan! Where are youuuuuu?"

Hisoka made a small whimpering sound, and let go of Cain's hands to pull a pillow over his head more firmly.

Cain struggled with temptation and lost. He scrubbed a hand through his hair to make sure it was suitably rumpled, then opened the door and leaned on the frame of it. "Can't you be quieter? He's still sleeping!" he said, with the righteousness of the perfectly truthful.

"He's... he's... what...?"

Cain leaned aside and pointed in so that the girls could get a look at Hisoka's sleeping figure. "Why did you go and put him in that dress, anyway? It was dark last night; I didn't figure it out until rather too late..."

He kept his eyes wide and earnest by sheer force of will -- that and an uncomfortable awareness of how much it would hurt to laugh.

The girls stared back and forth between Hisoka, Cain, and each other, their faces going pale.

"Well?" he asked. "Why the dress?"

"We... er... we thought..."

"...he looked... cute..."

"Oh, he certainly did," Cain agreed, far too eagerly
for their comfort. "Absolutely delectable..."

The girls traded a miserable look, and one of them burst into tears; they both fled sobbing down the hall.

Chuckling breathlessly to himself, Cain stepped back inside and shut the door quietly. Now, if THAT doesn't solve the problem of Terazuma and the midnight rampages... I wonder approximately how many repair bills I've just spared the steward?

Unless, of course, they prove to be obnoxious drunks in their heartbroken disappointment.

Somewhat chilled by that thought, Cain resolved to make some discreet inquiries about their alcohol tolerance before the next time he saw to singlehandedly ruining a boy's reputation.

Hisoka was blinking blearily up at him from the sheets. "Mr. Hargreaves...? I thought I heard the twins..."

"Oh, that problem's solved," Cain said cheerily. "I've
got it all fixed for you."

"Solved...?" Hisoka sighed and flopped back into the
pillows. "I'm still dreaming, aren't I..."

"Something like that," Cain agreed. And I'll let him find out about the rest of his newfound reputation when I'm safely OUT of throwing-into-fireplace range.

[drat the 10K limit... going to have to do a LOT of reformatting as I port things over here...]

[CrystalGryphonsGhost]

Er . . . What can I say? I was bored. -_-;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
This is really pure Yami no Matsuei, owing nothing to Count Cain other than the setting, and there's probably something in here somewhere that contradicts what other people have already written, but heck, I figured that at least someone might find it amusing. And besides, I never pass up a chance to use the word "perspicacious". ~_^

-----------------------------------------------------


Any member of the household who had not seen the pale man when he had arrived might have been excused for thinking that he was a ghost, since only a spirit was likely to be wandering at large at this hour of the night, pacing silently through the hallways. It would have taken a most perspicacious observer to realize that the ghostly figure's footfalls were silent because it was barefoot, rather than because it lacked physicality, and that while a ghost might have been bespectacled, and have held something dark between its hands, it was hardly likely that such a creature would have red marks banding its wrists where it had been chafed by the handcuffs intended to restrain it from the sort of mischief on which it was now bent . . . if not, indeed, from worse things.

He stopped outside a door, and pale fingers reached out to grip and turn the knob. Bloodless lips creased into a smile as he realized it was not locked, even though he knew, somehow, that the object of his desire lay within, and that the other was alone. Apparently, his minders had thought that the cuffs, and the lock on his door, would be sufficient to protect their companion from his desires, fools that they were.

Carefully he eased the door open just enough to admit him, and then, once on the other side, just as carefully eased it shut again so that it made not so much as a faint click. He would have liked
to look around first, but it would not have done to be impatient. That way lay discovery by his captors . . . and in any case, anticipation was half the pleasure, was it not?

The room had only one bed in it, and the shaft of moonlight falling across the pillow illuminated a head of tousled dark hair. The pale man licked his lips and set that which he carried aside on the dresser, then removed his glasses and deposited them beside it. The bed was large enough that he was able to turn back the covers on the far side of it and slide under them without disturbing the occupant. He frowned as he realized that there were crumbs in the bedsheets, then shrugged. Such was typical of the one that he now lay beside, and it was a small enough price to pay for what he intended to do here tonight.

He inched slowly across the mattress until he was separated from the other man by a mere handsbreadth of space, then cautiously slid one arm over the sleeper's body, taking him in a gentle embrace. To his pleased amusement, the other rolled over and snuggled up against him, burying that beautiful face in the curve of his neck and muttering something incoherent. Even having the pale man deposit a kiss on the crown of his head only made the dark-haired one move in closer, and the intruder was about to run his tongue delicately around the curve of the other's ear when he heard footsteps out in the hall. He held his breath, willing them silently to go away, but no such luck--the doorknob was rattling. Swiftly, he rolled himself off the bed, dropped to the floor, and slid himself under the mattress, where he was forced to pinch his nose to keep from sneezing, for the area had clearly not been dusted in quite some time. As the door swung open, he occupied himself with dark thoughts of what he would do to the servant responsible for the cleanliness of this chamber if the opportunity to be alone with that person ever presented itself.

"Hisoka? Are you here?" The voice was a woman's, and the pale man licked his lips, tasting phantom blood. Women made such wonderful victims, and this one had just offended him so that killing her would be a joy as well as a pleasure. Imagine, interrupting his interlude with his beloved because she was searching for that brat! "Funny, I thought he was supposed to be sharing Tsuzuki's room, but there's only the one bed . . ."

Finally, the sleeper stirred, making the mattress above the pale man shake. "Go 'way!" a sleepy voice insisted, and there was a dull thud as something well-padded struck flesh.

"Tsuzuki, you--"

"Calm down," a second female voice said. "It's only a pillow, and we are kind of disturbing him. Let's go check the others' rooms--maybe Hisoka's hiding out with one of them."

The door was shut again, and the footsteps retreated, but the pale man continued to lie beneath the mattress, fingering the knife in his pocket and dreaming of putting it to use, until the sleeper's breathing had once more become deep and regular. Only then did he emerge from his hiding place and rise silently to his feet.

Regretfully, he padded over to the dresser to retrieve his glasses. He would have very much preferred to stay, but although he doubted that Hisoka was hiding in the room into which the other
Shinigami had locked him for the night, it was possible that the girls would search for him there at some point, or that someone else would check on him to make certain that he had not murdered the youth a second time, and he had no wish for them to discover him gone, for if they were to ascertain that the precautions they had taken to keep him imprisoned were ineffective, they might well decide to use stronger ones which would be more difficult to escape.

Nevertheless, he took a moment to fling the other object that he had brought with him onto the bed, where the shaft of moonlight revealed it to be, not black as it had previously appeared, but blood red and dark green. The sleeper took no notice of it . . . yet.

* * *

The next morning, a chambermaid was passing through that hallway when she heard whimpering sounds coming from behind one of the doors. Having an overdeveloped sense of curiosity, she stopped for a moment and peered through the keyhole, and was perplexed to see one of the Master's peculiar collection of houseguests staring aghast at a single blood-red rose that lay neatly on the bed beside him.

[CrystallynesGhost]

Well, here's my feeble attempt. I would really appreciate any feedback people have on it.
Okay, this is only slightly related to the daytime storyline. (Yeah, I know Riff is supposedly busy elsewhere with Cain right now, but I just wanted to have some fun with Tsuzuki and Riff). I'm sorry if I stole people's characters, but anyway, here it is. It's completely PG, because my comfort zone is playing with hints and innuendos

************************************************

Tsuzuki moaned in agony and curled tightly into a fetal position, waves of pain radiating outward from his stomach. It seemed that the baby cinnamon roll was enacting its final revenge after being eaten. Tsuzuki could feel the fever coming and was powerless to stop it. He moaned again, feeling the world spiral out of all reality and taking him with it. Old memories, long since subdued and buried, began to raise their heads in anticipation as they felt Tsuzuki's control rapidly evaporate.

No, Tsuzuki thought, not now. Not this again. The dizziness overtook him as his temperature skyrocketed.

****

Riff paused as he passed Merryweather's room, uncertain of the sound he thought he had heard. Was that a person moaning? He knocked politely on the door, but silence was his only answer. His medical training, as well as his concern for Merryweather, had him opening the door uninvited.

"Miss Merry? Are you well?" Riff blinked and stared at Merryweather's bed. As well as the usual panapoly of dolls and toys, it also held one of Master Cain's guests, who appeared to be in severe pain. Merryweather was nowhere in sight.

"Excuse me, sir? Mr. Tsuzuki? May I ask what's wrong?" Riff approached the man slowly, hesitating only for a moment when Tsuzuki moaned again and began panting rapidly. One close look at his face told Riff that Tsuzuki was experiencing a serious bout of illness. His face was pale and his shirt was completely soaked. As Riff lay a hand on Tsuzuki's forehead to gauge his fever, Tsuzuki jerked upright and stared straight through Riff with piercing lavendar eyes.

Oh, my, thought Riff, falling into Tsuzuki's gaze. I've seen this expression before.

****

The pain. The guilt! Tsuzuki stared at Riff without seeing him, caught by the memories he thought he'd conquered long ago. No. Why couldn't I save them? Anguished thoughts raced through Tsuzuki's fevered mind, taking him closer and closer to a breaking point.

"Mr. Tsuzuki? Can you hear me?" Riff's voice, faintly heard along with the second gentle touch on his forehead, provided a much needed anchor into the real world. Tsuzuki blinked and managed to focus on Riff, actually seeing him for the first time since Riff entered the room.

****

Yes, I know that expression, far too well, Riff thought. Master Cain gets this same expression right after his worst nightmares. I never expected anyone else could be as experienced as Master Cain in guilt and anguished memories. How can I refuse to help him, when he needs me as much as Master Cain does?

"Please, Mr. Tsuzuki, you're burning up. We have to get your fever down." Riff soothingly placed his hands on Tsuzuki's shoulders and eased him back down against the pillows as he spoke, then reached down to unbutton Tsuzuki's shirt. It was soaked through, and clung stubbornly to Tsuzuki's chest as Riff tried to slip it off. When Riff had finally removed the shirt, he was shocked to feel how hot Tsuzuki's chest was.

He should be dead by now with that temperature! As Riff reached up to check Tsuzuki's pulse, Tsuzuki suddenly grabbed his wrist in a painful grip. Looking at Tsuzuki, Riff swallowed hard. It was clear that the fever had claimed Tsuzuki's mind once again.

****

No. No! I'll stop it this time for sure! I won't let them suffer like this! Tsuzuki's spiritual power gathered around him as he prepared to strike at his foe, a fatal strike to finally end the agony he was in. His eyes glittered fiercely and took on a look of steely determination.

****

Riff couldn't take it anymore. This grown man, such a clown with no common sense during the day, was now in the throes of the agony that Riff was achingly familiar with. The similarities between Master Cain's expressions and Tsuzuki's blurred the lines just enough for Riff to set aside his fear of Tsuzuki's power. He slipped his arms around Tsuzuki and held him in a gentle embrace, trying to offer the only comfort he had.

****

Tsuzuki completely lost his hold on his power as he recognized what he was feeling. It had been so long since he had been cradled in another's arms so tenderly. Already weak from the fever and generating such intense power, he collapsed into Riff's arms, accepting the comfort offered as a safe port in the storm of his emotions.

Time passed oddly in Tsuzuki's mind after that moment. It seemed like he sheltered in Riff's arms for an eternity, and yet the time flew by in little flashes of activity. Once he awoke to find a damp cloth being stroked across his chest, relieving the terrible heat of the fever. Then he would blink and the cloth would appear on his forehead while strong arms supported him, gentle fingers checking his pulse. The next time he focused on Riff, there was an odd tightness in his chest that he couldn't explain. But the gentle man seemed to know what he was feeling.

****

Finally, I think the fever has gone down, Riff sighed in exhaustion, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. It had been an extremely long night, spent bathing Tsuzuki with cool compresses, coaxing weak tea into his abused stomach, and generally nursing him back to health. Now faint light was beginning to appear in the windows, heralding the coming dawn of a new day. Riff sighed again, having spent all his energy nursing Tsuzuki.

I'm so tired. So very tired. Riff glanced at Tsuzuki and was glad to see that he was sleeping, apparently already recovering from the hellish night. Riff was suddenly startled to feel a gentle brush of fingers against his back. As he looked over at Tsuzuki again, he met the clouded purple gaze and realized that Tsuzuki was actually awake.

"Thank you," murmured Tsuzuki, his voice slurring slightly from exhaustion. "Thank you." Tsuzuki drifted off to sleep again as Riff leaned over him and whispered, "You're welcome."

Riff felt waves of fatigue crashing over him and fought to stay awake. It was a very short battle quickly lost, and Riff leaned down further into the soft support of the pillows as his eyes drifted closed. Riff fell into a deep sleep, listening to the even rhythm of Tsuzuki's breathing against his chest.

*************************************************

Okay, I'm tired now so I'm stopping. Don't ask me why no one else showed up to check on them, 'cause I don't know. I'm not really good at tying in little details like that.

So, is it plausible? I tried to get Riff's tone right, but I don't think I was formal enough. And on the subject of pulses, I assume if the shinigami can bleed, then they have pulses. Right? Oh, well. It's just something I was playing around with, but since no one else was posting, I decided to share it.

~Crystal

[RisuChan]

{kneeling in front of Crystallyne with hands folded in supplication}
Please pardon the sins I am about to commit... I know it usually works better to ask forgiveness for sins that aren't premeditated, but at least I recognize this as a sin... that's progress on the way back from evilness scale, maybe...?

Inspired by Crystallyne's Nocturne:
------------------------------------
Superdeformed Kami no Matsuei Omake Theater:
The ending that got left on the cutting room floor!



Chibi-Cain and Chibi-Mary: [blink blink blink]

Puppy-Tsuzuki {bouncing in behind Riff}: Thank you! I feel soooooo much better!

Chibi-Cain {with scary yellow chibi killer eyes which end up looking cute despite his best efforts because honestly, come on, he's a chibi}: WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BUTLER?!?!?!

Puppy-Tsuzuki {ears drooping a little}: Well, there was this cinnamon roll...

Chibi-Cain {face buried in one hand}: I should have the stuff outlawed as illegal narcotics...

Chibi-Merry {scratching behind Puppy-Tsuzuki's ears}: I note the cinnamon roll went into past tense.

Puppy-Tsuzuki: Yeah, I kind of ate it. And that was kind of really an incredibly bad idea. Which I should have known at the time but come on, it's a CINNAMON ROLL and... and...

[Chibi-Cain upends the vase of flowers on Chibi-Riff's smoldering head so that he's now wet-soggy-ashy and splattered with rose petals but no longer smoldering.]

Chibi-Cain {to Puppy-Tsuzuki}: AND?

Puppy-Tsuzuki: Well, I tend to start hallucinating when I get sick... it has to do with these fevers...

Chibi-Cain {tapping one foot}: And your fevers are in the habit of charbroiling other people's butlers?

Puppy-Tsuzuki: Well, I thought somebody was attacking me... only he was trying to give me a hug... only I figured that out after I stopped hallucinating. I mean, while I was hallucinating, I thought he was attacking me instead of hugging me, sooooo....

[silence]

Puppy-Tsuzuki {perking up}: On the bright side, dropping that fireball on his head seems to have used up all the extra heat and I'm not feverish and hallucinating anymore!

[siiiiillleeeeeennnnccceeeee]

Chibi-Merry {watching Chibi-Cain's eyes do a somewhat more convincing version of menacing-as-heck despite their inherent chibiness}: Um, Tsuzuki, I don't suppose you could un-charbroil Riff, could you? {Not to mention my bedroom?}

Puppy-Tsuzuki: I'm not sure. This is what Tatsumi is for, you see. I make the messes; he fixes them. I always thought it was a good partnership anyway...

[Chibi-Cain is smoldering without assistance of fireball. Both Chibi-Merry and Puppy-Tsuzuki are warily impressed by this.]

Puppy-Tsuzuki: Why don't I just go get Tatsumi now. Like, fast.

Chibi-Merry: That would be quite a good idea, yes.

[5 minutes later, exterior of the Hargreaves mansion]

Chibi-Tatsumi's voice {shouting the roof off its foundation so it rattles and little puffs of dust shake free}: YOU DID WHAT?!?!?!?!

[Interior again, where Puppy-Tsuzuki is hiding under the table with paws over his head and tail drooping and Chibi-Merry is trying to keep both Chibi-Cain and Chibi-Tsuzuki from ripping his head and various other bits off]

Puppy-Tsuzuki {talking fast}: But it's the rules!

Chibi-Cain: I don't care what rules they make in France; in MY house you do NOT CHARBROIL MY BUTLER!

Puppy-Tsuzuki: I mean the rules of comedy! It wouldn't be funny if he wasn't charbroiled! I mean... I had a fever... and I do fire spirits... and I was hallucinating... and what else is a hallucinating person going to do when someone grabs them? It's the laws of comedy, I'm telling you -- it wouldn't be funny if he didn't get charbroiled!

Chibi-Merry: You figured this out while you were hallucinating?

Puppy-Tsuzuki: No, afterwards. That's why it makes more sense.

Chibi-Merry {mouthing an incredulous echo}: Makes more...? {stopping to shake her head vigorously}

Chibi-Tatsumi {to Chibi-Cain}: I'm so sorry. You're from a non-superdeformed-mode series. Our series just does this every so often, we can't help it. You've probably never experienced anything like the laws of comedy in effect upon your part of the space-time continuum before, have you?

Chibi-Cain {glaring at everyone in general}: I can't even do angsty eyes like this! I'm too damn cute! How am I supposed to deal with major life trauma when I can't even go into angst mode and snivel all over Riff and have one of our patented look-but-don't-quite-touch Special Moments? I can't have a Special Moment with a charbroiled chibi!!

[Everyone stares at Chibi-Cain fuming.]

Chibi-Cain {with those little >.< eyes}: And I can't even brood properly either! Someone FIX this~~!

Puppy-Tsuzuki {very hesitantly peeking out from under the edge of the tablecloth of the table he's hiding under, with enormous violet eyes that he's putting to even better don't-kill-me-I'm-cute effect than usual}: Well... these ARE the laws of comedy... so...

Chibi-Cain: So?

Chibi-Tatsumi {patting Chibi-Cain's arm reassuringly}: So we'll think of something so you can get your angst back. I promise.

Chibi-Cain {bursting into loud sobs and sniveling all over Tatsumi's shoulder}: Oh GOD just stop this horror PLEASE...!

Chibi-Tatsumi {to Chibi-Merry who seems by default to have inherited the hat of the Last Sane Denizen of the Comedy Universe}: What exactly did Tsuzuki say?

Chibi-Merry: He said he made the messes and you fixed them.

Chibi-Tatsumi {scowling at Puppy-Tsuzuki and doing a much more creditable job than Cain did because he's used to having to work around random flashes of SD mode}: You could have given me something to work with, you know. Let's see. I suppose I'll just have to...

[Chibi-Tatsumi whips the tablecloth off the table Puppy-Tsuzuki is hiding under, makes like a whirlwind with a pair of silly oversized scissors, and ends up with a spaghetti pile of bandages. He then walks over to Charbroiled Chibi-Riff with a purposeful gleam in his eye, and reproduces the whirlwind effect.]

[30 seconds later, Chibi-Riff is covered from head to toe in sparkling white bandages and is approximately vertical with a tray with tea in one hand. There's also a stray rose sprouting out of the bandages at the top of his head, and a very expressive sweatdrop kind of hovering sheepishly beside him.]

Chibi-Riff {muffled}: mmpfh rrgh graahhgpff

Chibi-Cain {now doing tear-fountain of joy and sparkly eyes}: Oh, Riff! --Oh God, it's not over with yet? NOW WHAT?

Chibi-Merry {to Chibi-Tatsumi}: You didn't exactly leave Riff any talking or moving space, you know.

Puppy-Tsuzuki: Of course not. It wouldn't be funny otherwise. The laws of c-...

[Chibi-Cain snatches the SD scissors from Chibi-Tatsumi with a markedly more effective Evil Glint In The Eyes {TM}.]

Chibi-Merry {sotto voce to Chibi-Tatsumi}: Oh no. I think Big Brother's getting the hang of this.

Chibi-Cain {lunging after Puppy-Tsuzuki brandishing scissors and making chopping noises}: YOU COME BACK HERE, YOU MANGY MUTT! I WANT PUPPY EARS FOR HALLOWEEN! I'LL EVEN GIVE JEZEBEL YOUR EYES IN HIS CHRISTMAS STOCKING~! NICE FAMILY GIFT, WHAT? GOES A LONG WAY TOWARD PATCHING UP OLD FEUDS AND THE LIKE-- COME BACK HEEEERRRREEE~~~!!!

Chibi-everybody, including chibi-Riff: {collective ginormous sweatdrop}

The End

{^^;;;;; ducking for cover... I just got smacked over the head with the mental image of what would have happened if Tsuzuki had stopped hallucinating a few seconds AFTER the hug instead of BEFORE... ^^;;;;;;;;;; slinking away into squirrel hole again...}