Dead Reckoning
DEAD RECKONING
CHAPTER NINE
Tsuzuki didn’t really quite understand what was happening. Granted, he had more than enough experience with psychotic rapists to realize that was exactly how Tatsumi was acting like, and it sure would have looked like that to anyone else but, to him, that concept made absolutely no sense. But, whatever it is that you call it when someone you love is the one trying to force himself on you, it would have pretty similar consequences, if not worse, to rape, unless he did something about it soon.
He had been so, so close to reacting the way he always did. As some martyr for an unknown cause, exposing his neck like a submissive dog begging not to be harmed. It wasn’t that he didn’t know he was one of the most powerful Shinigami out there. He knew he could fight back; he’d always known it. But something always held him back when the danger was only to him. As if he deserved such treatment. It was what he did best, wasn’t it? Always secretly hoping someone else came to the rescue. Except Hisoka was miles away and Tatsumi… well, no need to explain that one.
Maybe it had been the fact that it wasn’t the near-rape situation he was used to, maybe it had been all the introspection he’d been doing lately, but something snapped in him.
He’d punched Tatsumi square in the face out of sheer panic, really. The first time, anyway. He had just needed to get Tatsumi off of him and hadn’t been able to come up with a better idea. It proved to be rather effective and, in the few seconds between the first and second hit, he had found enough presence of mind to conclude that Tatsumi had actually deserved to be punched. So, he did it again.
Now, Tatsumi’s crumpled figure lay before him, and he had to contain himself from doing more harm. His blue eyes were even less focused than before, but there was a sort of despaired awareness in his expression.
“What the fuck was that?!” he bellowed, his voice several pitches higher than intended. Still, he more or less knew the answer to that, and wasn’t quite ready to hear it, so he quickly reformulated, “What the hell has gotten into you?!” Even the tone was more to his liking.
And, come to think of it, it was a good question. Studying Tatsumi more carefully, the question actually became imperative. His hair and clothes in disarray, face flushed, back hunched. The man in front of him looked broken, overwhelmed. This man in front of him did not look like Tatsumi at all. ´
The other man crouched closer to him, stretching his fingers to grasp the fabric of his pants, but Tsuzuki effectively ducked him, recognizing the same mad determination in his blue eyes, if only a bit deterred, and causing the man to hit the ground face first. Tsuzuki winced in sympathy, and hesitated to go to his aid. Maybe he was wrong, but he had to know for sure.
“Who are you?”
The door slammed open then and, as if on cue, a young man walked in, panting. He stumbled clumsily towards Tatsumi, who gasped and backed against the wall. Tsuzuki had never seen Tatsumi look frightened. Never. He didn’t like it.
“Katsu… Katsuhiko?”
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Tatsumi cowered against the wall. His eyes danced from one to the other franticly, pain spreading fast across his chest, his throat and temples. Raw pain that clawed at the corners of his mind and seemed to want to shed some light to the dark nothing his thoughts had become. It was a searing pain, nothing like the swollen numbness Tsuzuki’s hit had caused. It was more like something was trying to break through the fabric of his soul. He gritted his teeth, fighting reality as it forced itself back into his senses.
Two Kaedes, two Tsuzukis. And none of himself.
It was wrong, everything was wrong. He had just been starting to feel guilty for something he hadn’t had a chance to do. He would have done it, and while knowing he had been capable would have been enough to destroy him, his guilt went beyond that. The image of Tsuzuki in front of him had started to shift. There were memories of blood and screams and pleads juxtaposing reality. And now this. The utterance of a name that was his, but wasn’t. Tatsumi… Katsuhiko… He was both, he was lost.
He remembered, coming to this secluded spot of the world, carrying loads of dreams and just enough money to get them started. Kaede and him. How everything started to look up, how they managed to fulfill each and every one of those dreams. He remembered how hard it had become, then, to live under the same roof. His unnatural attraction getting worse and worse, their bliss only clouding his judgment further. He remembered his father, admonishing him, warning him about what would befall him should he not perform his duty to his family. Kaede hadn’t helped, seemed determined to make him fall into temptation. All these memories were so real to him as his days in JuOhCho. It was all the same, nothing made any sense.
But all the happiness, all the hardships and frustration were nothing, nothing compared to what he’d just done, or had been about to do. He remembered doing it, too. Over and over again. To Kaede, to Tsuzuki. He was a monster.
The pain grew worse. He couldn’t breathe. One of them, whoever it was, knelt next to him, looking desperate, anguished, because of him. The other stood back, looking confused and worried. He couldn’t stand the sight of either. In a moment of clarity, as if both his selves had become aware of everything, he remembered what he was supposed to do now. He was going to escape, to run away from the monster that he really was, and hopefully find peace. But he knew it was a show, his punishment, since there was no peace for the likes of him. The hell he deserved had finally caught up to him. Tatsumi had eluded it for decades, but it was here.
He pushed the one in front of him out of the way and bolted up, rushing out the door. Distantly, he could hear his name being called. The pain made him clumsy, but he managed to make it downstairs without falling. He noticed the shadows, swirling madly, and with them his dilemma. This time, it would take more than a dozen feet fall to do the trick. He’d work something out, though. He always did.
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The Gushoushin bore matching expressions of concern and constriction on their faces, as the two chickens watched over Hisoka's shoulder as he went through their findings, spread over Tatsumi’s own desk, as well as every bit of rubbish they had been able to find in is office, which, as you know, was not much. For his part, Hisoka's brow had knitted into a deep frown, that kept on getting deeper and deeper as he read, making Watari consider the possibility of someone contracting the muscles of their face enough to move their scalp to where their nose should be. The blonde could definitively understand why his companions were looking so troubled, though. After all, half the findings had been his own and, if the rest of the pile was half as alarming as his stock, they were in deep shit, to put it mildly.
“I don’t get it!” said the elder Gushoushin in a shriek, voice a few pitches higher than usual. “How come this guy’s been dead for five whole years and only now we notice?”
Hisoka shook his head, his green eyes never leaving the copies he was holding.
“Look at this.” He flipped to one article to the next, the newspaper’s thick, ink-stained letters barely intelligible on the contrast of the still warm sheet, thanks to the cheap office printer. “All of these articles are from around the same dates, only different years, the details are practically the same. The locals even believe the place is haunted! How is it possible we only hear from this now?”
Watari sighed tiredly. It was a good question, for sure, but they didn’t have the time to analyze the holes in the department’s system. That would take them two lifetimes. He waved a hand at the five folders spread open across the table in front of them, trying to get the conversation back on track.
“Five men, ages going from twenty five to thirty, all perfectly healthy and apparently successful, from all over the freaking country, with absolutely nothing in common, just decide one day to go over to Yokoshima and jump off the highest cliff.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Madness, I say! Maybe there‘s some virus going around? You know, some really slow virus that no one knows about and it just happens that these five gits were at the same playing ground some twenty years ago?”
He thought he had something there. His theory made absolute sense in his mind and even 003 hooted her encouragement over his shoulder. But there was a long moment of silence from everyone else, all looking at him with slightly wide eyes, before the younger Gushoushin went on as if no one had spoken at all, leaving Watari annoyed and deflated. Hey, stranger things had happened. They had to think outside the box!
“Four souls got here, one didn’t. The first one, at that. I think it’s fairly obvious what’s happening.” There was a slight tone of reproach as he said this, staring pointedly at the scientist. “The following four were possessed.”
Well, he wasn’t one to consider the obvious. The flaw of genius, really.
“Watari-san just said, though,” interjected Hisoka, looking indecisive. “That there was nothing to tie the five together. There are some similarities, like the fact that all of them were successful, but that’s spreading it too thin. One was a very rich entrepreneur, while another owned a bookshop! If it‘s a spirit possession, rather than a demonic one, shouldn’t there be something to draw the intruder to their victims? Something they shared?”
The Gushoushin brothers nodded and both moved to hover over the files at the exact same time, with twin-exclusive precision.
“There could be a million things they shared, though. Maybe they liked the same food, or the same rock band. Maybe they hated the same politician. Anyway, whatever they might have shared, would not show up on these files, would it?”
Now it was Watari’s turn to stare and blink. Who kills himself over a politician? Hisoka threw his papers on top of the folders disdainfully and groaned.
“We can read these stupid things all day and we’d still have nothing.”
“Nah-ah,” Watari beamed at him, causing 003 to hoot happily again. “We don’t know the why, or the how, but we do know one thing.”
“And what’s that?” the young boy asked, half-hopeful, half-disbelieving.
“All five of them were acting really strange the week before they died. They all abandoned their jobs and left their home without telling anyone. Well, Katsuhiko actually returned to a place he’d lived at, but he had been living in Osaka for six months when it happened.” Then he grabbed the copies of the articles and lined them up in chronological order for the rest to see, before pointing to each one of the fuzzy pictures portraying the cliff from different angles. “And look here, see?” In each image, a dark, house-shaped shadow could be seen at a distance. “Where have you seen this before?”
Three sets of eyes squinted at the pictures, while Watari stood unnaturally straight and smug. Then, he heard Hisoka gasp and the boy dug desperately between piles and piles of paper, coming out with a previously considered useless brochure clipping. He smoothed it on the table, next to the third picture, which happened to be the clearest, and gasped again.
“Oh, my God! You‘re right! Watari, you‘re a genius!”
To what the blond just sighed and patted the boy’s arm.
“I know, bon. I know.” Watari paused to rest a finger to his chin. “I wonder how much it would hurt to fall down a cliff, if you can actually live to feel it. Tatsumi’s going to need a whole load of aspirins, I gather.”
Tsuzuku
A/N: I know, really short chapter. The story is nearing the end anyway, which is partly why it’s taking me so long to update. I’m trying to do my best and I’m never satisfied with the result. I’m sure anyone still reading must be envious of anyone who’ll come across the story after it’s finished, lol. I’m really sorry. Thanks to all of you who stuck to this, though.