[omake]

[metousiosis.livejournal.com]

when; midnight, 29 January.
rating; R. [dark themes]
characters; Sakurazuka Seishirou (sakurazuka_san), Muraki Kazutaka (roy_de_epee).
summary; After a long absence, Muraki resurfaces. However, he did so in the wrong place at the wrong time.
log;


The night, though late, was brilliant with the moon and stars beaming down upon the gardens. Even the gardens of Xanadu were bathed in a silvery light, and the sight evoked such mystical ideals from within his mind. The floating petals in the wind, merely faerie princesses dancing along a gossamer breeze, and while he watched, Muraki smiled with mild fatigue. The gardens were one of his favourite places to visit, and he had been there much more often of the night lately. He couldn’t merely remain in his flat back in the fourth building, and yet times such as this didn’t even remind him of the comforts back there. It was too much of an adventure sometimes… the bright moonlight bounced off the smooth grass leaves as though highlighting his path forward.

He walked forward slowly, almost as though calculating his next step within every second of the time. The sakura tree ahead beckoned him forth with a sway of flowered branches. While he should have wondered just why a sakura tree still was in unseasonable full bloom, Muraki didn’t think too much of the sight at all. After accumulating a lifetime of strange events and even stranger people, one didn’t quite grasp that idea of “normal” nearly as much as the social mores expected the individual to. Besides, what was this “normal”, anyhow? He had long since discovered that answer for himself, and yet he still liked to ask the question as much as possible. “Normal” was just a concept – a highly subjective one, at that, and one that seemed to be more of a thing of the imagination than a fact of life.

The imagination seemed to run wild in this city. He, however, possessed the mental clarity to be able to separate such things. The immense power about the Red God, the guard accompanying, and the faction centred about the two… now the imagination couldn’t convince Muraki that such power wasn’t strong. If it was power enough to take out that collection of victims so easily, then no child’s play was involved at all. Indeed, that strength seemed to incite a power lust within Muraki. With such strength, certainly he could attain the closest to perfection within the physical realm – or even aid in his escape. Saki still was waiting for him there…. He scowled slightly at the mental image of that head and spine floating about in the vermillion liquid with a dark, triumphant smirk. Now, with the power of a god, no less, he definitely could grant his own wish himself.

The only trouble seemed to be that the Red God, Xuchilbara, had become so difficult to locate. Would he have hidden away to regain his power? Perhaps carried on elsewhere under a different guise? The possibilities were myriad, so it seemed, the more and more Muraki contemplated the situation. Of course, no one could escape the whisperings of gossip amongst passers-by - Xuchilbara himself had risen once more, and that alone had been enough to spur him on to gather his forces and pursue the god himself. He didn’t hope for a confrontation – alliance, maybe, would gain him the time necessary to plan his claim to some of that power. He did have the appropriate charm to present himself humbly before an opponent.

The wind picked up to toss about the tails of his long white coat and send a chill along his skin. Muraki almost contemplated returning to his makeshift base of operations in an abandoned apartment room at the topmost floor, and yet the sakura… alluring…. The wind tossing about the boughs seemed to mimic the gentle, seductive sighs of a beckoning woman; the poet that lodged within the doctor’s heart seemed to be out to play this evening, as well. Once he was at the roots of the large sakura tree, he placed a hand gently on the trunk as a strange smile curved at his lips. That woman, the dark-haired beauty with cherry-stained lips, had reprimanded him for removing a branch from the tree once. He wasn’t sure why, but it stuck within his mind – why the tree itself became a sympathetic character to him, Muraki himself didn’t know. He had a small personal affinity with sakura trees… the delicate beauty rooted within the long history and tradition of a nation. How could one ignore that significance?

“Good evening, doctor,” a voice called from behind him. Quickly, Muraki turned his gaze over his shoulder, and he stopped when he saw a familiar man standing in the moonlight. Sakurazuka Seishirou – yes, he had seen the veterinarian about from time to time, and he knew that this man had been attempting to help Oriya in his investigation of his “disappearance”. Until recently, the man had been regarded merely as a fellow member of the medical field, but such a small thing that united the two didn’t explain Sakurazuka’s interest in him. At least, he had no idea exactly why such a thing would justify this man’s keen talent for turning up in his affairs.

Muraki noticed an odd glint in the other’s eyes, but whether it was an attribution of the moonlight or something more sinister, he had little idea. “Sakurazuka-san,” he greeted with a small smile as he turned about and approached the other man. “You look as though you’re dressed to attend a funeral, you know,” he added with an amused laugh. True, he had no interest in the look of such a predominance of black in his clothing, although he did admit that the look oddly suited the man before him.

“Perhaps I am,” Seishirou replied with a grin that seemed riddled with a joke. Seishirou did have a rather odd sense of humour, Muraki had noticed, and he shrugged off the odd feeling he was getting from his company. “Out for an evening walk, Muraki-sensei?”

Unknowingly, his own eyes betrayed the suspicion he felt in his gut as they narrowed. “Perhaps I am.” He paused, watching as Seishirou stepped closer to the sakura tree. “I assume you’re looking for me at Oriya’s behest?” Surely not, and Muraki was no fool – After all, Oriya himself would be actively searching, if he had any say in the matter. Though why Seishirou himself would search for him, he had no idea. Maybe he would find out, though.

Seishirou took a moment to stare at the sakura as it seemed to flounce in the air. And just as the moment was close to a suspicious amount of time lost, the other man turned and grinned back to Muraki. “Miibu-san had no interest in my own search for you – I found it quite odd that you had vanished out of thin air, though.”

“Thank you for your concern, Sakurazuka-san,” Muraki replied as he, likewise, took a step closer. “However, I do not need to be disturbed further.” That’s right – he had been on the prowl for the trace of power… that one signature of the Red Guard that he seemed to leave behind at each crime scene. How he managed to be diverted off his path, really, even he had become confused. “I should be on my way, then,” he finally added before taking a step past the man and the large tree.

“The Red God, Xuchilbara – “ Muraki froze as soon as he heard those words travel along the wind – “you’re seeking him, correct?”

So this man was smarter than he looked.

Muraki whirled about to stare right at Seishirou with a slightly baffled look. The strange look on the other’s face, one that seemed far more predatory than he was inclined to believe was the imagination at work, stunned him to silence. However, quickly, his silence turned into light, brief laughter. “I take it you looked closely through my personal documents? How clever of you.”

“Why seek him, though?” Seishirou moved in closer to him, and Muraki had to repress the urge to take a step back. “What is there to gain?”

He really wondered just how many people were wondering that same question. But Muraki only thought it was just too obvious what the goal was. Why? Everyone was asking the wrong question. He had more in mind to answer “why not?” He turned a sly eye to Seishirou as he smiled enigmatically. “Why wouldn’t one seek the power of a god, Sakurazuka-san?”

Now Seishirou seemed somewhat content with the answer. There was a faint smile on his mouth as the black-clad man looked directly at Muraki. “Yes… why wouldn’t one…?” he replied almost with a thoughtful tone. “I wonder.”

The odd reaction puzzled Muraki for a moment, but he saw now his opportunity to leave. Seishirou had an odd sense of humour… perhaps a little too odd even for him. “Good evening, then, Sakurazuka-san…” Just as Muraki finally took a step back from the man – it hardly seemed now that Seishirou posed a threat to his plans since he apparently had his agreement – Seishirou lunged forward and grabbed him by the shoulder.

Before he even had time to react, he felt a strong stab through his chest.

The hurt was enough to send flashes of white across his vision – or were they the intensity of the sakura petals as they rained amongst the two? – and Muraki audibly gasped as the air from his lungs seemed to be shoved forth. Then electric currents of pain jolted him into a slight consciousness, and he saw a bloodied hand return to Seishirou’s side. Had he…? It seemed almost too absurd to think such a thing. But… Muraki didn’t really even feel anything as he fell to the ground.

Seishirou seemed to hover right over Muraki as he lie there, and he barely could make out a faint trace of a smirk on the shadowed face that stared at him with what seemed triumph. Saki….?

“Sleep well, Muraki-sensei,” he heard through sounds of wind and the rustle of sakura branches before his sight faded to black.

.……………………………………….

The sakura petals weaved through the air, almost as though confetti were falling down like rain upon the victorious scene. Seishirou’s heel kicked at Muraki’s arm as he passed the now dead doctor. He didn’t want to see that gaping face anymore.

Those who opposed the balance were to be eliminated.



[Ah ha ha. Writing this myself wasn't easy. If anyone would wish to find Muraki dead at the tree in Xanadu, feel free to say so. First one up, go!]