Trickery

Tittle: Oh Shiznats

Disclaimer: I don’t own Yami no Matsuei. You no sue.

Warnings: getting there, don’t you worry, it’s coming..



Alright then. Onto Chapter Two! (Wow. These chapters are a lot shorter than what I remember. >_> Good thing they get better as they go, if you catch my drift. *Evil Grin*)



Enjoy!



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Oh Shiznats



Oriya glanced up from his pile of paperwork, which was now considerably smaller.



Six o’clock.



Straightening up the piles on his desk, the dark-haired man stood. Dinner with Muraki. Well, this would be fun. He stretched a bit, relieving the stiffness in his neck and shoulders, and crossed the room to the coatrack in the corner. From it he removed his black trench coat, bringing the garment around himself, and snatched up the briefcase that sat plaintively on the floor beside the file cabinet. He stepped out of his office, taking care to lock the door behind him, and idly wondered where they would be going.



Oriya’s steps were brisk as he crossed the Investigations Department, which was a series of off-white cubicles with the doors of varying offices lining the walls. Workers were still bustling about, scuffling to finish their work and get home. Offering a smile now and then, he reached the short glass-lined corridor leading out of the department, easily finding his way to the elevator, and sternly pushed the button which depicted a downward arrow. A soft ‘ding’ rang out soon after, and the sliding doors of the moving compartment opened.



All too soon the Head Investigator was striding across the lobby of the Tokyo Police Department, making his way to the large front doors. There, standing beside them, one could quite easily make out the figure of a tall man, clad entirely in white, lounging against the wall. He was waiting. Oriya greeted Muraki politely; there were friends, after all. No matter what Muraki said or did, Oriya was constantly reminding himself that he was friends with the man – and that was something to think about. It wasn’t so much a love-hate relationship as it was an annoying, unwritten rule that the universe had made up in its spare time. Muraki Kazutata and Oriya Mibu were friends, and that was just the way things were. That was how the cosmos insisted on things being. It wasn’t that Oriya didn’t like Muraki; he did like him, truly. He knew Muraki himself wasn’t a bad person. Charming, intelligent, good-looking, responsible... and too smart for his own good. It was just the activities the white-haired man partook in that Oriya disliked. And perhaps what annoyed the investigator most was the fact that his boss could actually get away with those questionable activities. Something about it simply wasn’t right.



Muraki gave a curt smile upon Oriya’s arrival. “Good evening, Ori-chan.”



“Good evening,” Oriya smiled back, if for no other reason that to simply be polite. “Shall we hurry? The sooner I get those names, the better.”



“Of course,” the white-haired man placed a hand gently on his employee’s back, guiding him out of the building like a ‘true gentleman’. Oriya wasn’t particularly ecstatic with the gesture, but he decided he was at least lucky that his boss wasn’t trying to grope him, and so he let it be. “There’s that lovely new Italian place a few blocks away. I know how much you like Italian, Ori-chan, so I thought it would be nice.”



“Yes, Muraki,” the investigator replied, still keeping his polite and formal tone. “Thank you.”



The walk wasn’t particularly short, nor was it particularly long, either. The streets were busy, as they always were in Tokyo, but the weather was nice. If not for the overwhelming amounts of people, the walk would have most likely been rather relaxing. After walking a good five or so blocks, and turning a final corner, the desired restaurant came into view. It wasn’t large or small, but instead had a nice, cozy atmosphere about it. A small red overhanging donned the entrance, along with a few tables scattered about in the front, for outdoor dining.



They entered the cozy little restaurant, and Muraki guided them into a booth where they could have some privacy, away from the main dining area. Setting his briefcase down beside him, Oriya took some time to examine the restaurant. It had a color theme of red and gold, with candles sitting on every table made from a creamy-shaded wax, which was lightly scented. It was most definitely a place geared for more formal occasions, with men in suits and women in evening dresses. In short, the entire atmosphere basically shouted Romance!. The dark-haired man didn’t bother to refrain from rolling his eyes. Muraki was trying to make a move, beyond any doubt.



“So,” the investigator directed his attentions back to his ghost-like companion, “where’s that list you were telling me about?”



“Do you devote your entire life to your work, Ori-chan?” Muraki teased. “Relax a little. This is a nice place. Enjoy it. I brought you here because I thought you would like it. We’ll get to that list later.”



That statement alone immediately aroused Oriya’s suspicions. Had Muraki lied to him? Was there ever really a list to begin with? The investigator decided to explore that matter later. He had known his white-haired friend long enough to learn that when he was determined to hide something, not even his closest friend could milk it out of him. A phrase entered his mind; his friend had once said it to him long ago, and he had never forgotten it: Muraki Kazutaka always gets what he wants. Oriya felt a shudder run through him.



“Do you like it?” Muraki’s voice broke the dark-haired man from his thoughts.



“Hm? Oh, yes. It’s very...” he searched for the right word, “quaint.” Muraki nodded, before offering one of his less smirk-like, more seductive smiles.



“Good. Though I must confess, my main reason for bringing you here was to try to get your mind off of work. You’ve been so tense lately, my Ori-chan. I think you just need some time to relax.” Oriya took a moment to run his boss’ words back through his head.



“Excuse me?” he finally questioned.



“What?” Muraki gazed at him, a bit confused.



“What did you call me?” the Head Investigator specified his question.



“Ori-chan?”



“No, you said ‘my Ori-chan,’” Oriya couldn’t keep the edge of coldness from slipping into his voice. He knew Muraki was up to something! But after the initial irritation passed, the investigator felt a little proud of himself. His friend had slipped up, and he had caught it.



“Oh,” the white-haired man’s smile returned, quick to bounce back with a reply. “I’ve just always thought it sounded nice, really. ‘My Ori-chan’. Don’t you think?” he smirked.



“No. I don’t think. I’m not ‘your’ Ori-chan. And haven’t I already told you to stop with your mind games?” Oriya’s words were brunt, but then again, Muraki wasn’t exactly someone who compelled him to be polite. The white-haired man decided to ignore the question.



“No, I suppose you wouldn’t like it. Not anymore, at least. Why not, Oriya?” very rarely did the Head of Police use his companion’s real name. “Why did you stop being mine?” the dark haired man brought his finger’s to the bridge of his nose.



“That was back in college, Muraki. It was years ago. I can’t believe you still haven’t gotten over that!” he hissed. The ghost-like man’s smile faltered, falling away.



“You didn’t answer my question.” His voice no longer held its residential charm, but was now a bit more demanding. A silent warning to it. Oriya was surprised – Muraki almost never let his guard down, and this was being upset for the white-haired man. He was never quite the kind to be open with his emotions– or at least hadn’t been in a very, very long time. Oriya locked his eyes on the Muraki’s silver ones, to help get his point across.



“Because,” Oriya replied in a quiet voice, “we’re friends, Muraki. And that’s that. It’s how things are supposed to be, and you can’t change it. You just...” he desperately searched for words, but came up fruitless. “. . .can’t.” The truth was that Oriya didn’t know how to explain what he was trying to say. Sure, he had enjoyed it when they had been together, but now it was so long ago. It was a fling happened back in college, and look at where they were now – two grown men well into their working lives. ‘Honestly’, Oriya thought, ‘some people just don’t know how to let things go.’ Oddly enough, the investigator found himself deeply emerged in his own thoughts once again. Muraki was the only person who had ever had that effect on him, and Oriya considered it a weakness – a personal flaw. ‘Don’t think too much,’ he told himself, ‘because that’s what Muraki wants you to do!’ But even Oriya had to admit to the fact that it’s extremely hard not to think.



A cold hand brushed against Oriya’s cheek, sliding away the man’s stubborn bangs and tucking them behind his ear. The investigator was startled from his revery. When his eyes came back into focus, he saw the white-haired man smirking at him, the hand still stroking his cheek. “Thinking too much again, my Ori-chan?”



Oriya’s eyes narrowed into thin slits, slapping the hand away.



“Don’t touch me.”



Little more was said between them until to waiter came to take their drinks. Muraki ordered himself a nice white wine, while Oriya opted just to stick with a simple glass of water and lemon. He knew it was best not to ingest any alcohol tonight, for that was not one of the wisest things to do around a certain white-haired man, king of all manipulation. They ordered their dishes soon after, Muraki choosing the fettuccine alfredo, and his companion selecting the tossed shrimp in olive oil and basil.



“Honestly,” Muraki finally said, his voice back to its normal, suave drone. “Must you always be so stubborn?”



“I wouldn’t be so stubborn if you weren’t so...” Oriya paused in his reply, then started again, this time with a question. “You never used to be like this, Muraki. What happened?” The ghost-like man took a sip of his wine before answering.



“Because, Ori-chan,” he said finally, “I realized that I had far more potential than what this life I had fallen into could give me. Intelligent, powerful, clever– ”



“You mean manipulative.” But certainly not modest.



“Yes yes, however you want to say it. Whatever it is I have, I have a lot of it. Potential is a good thing. But, you know what they say,” he took another delicate sip of his wine before continuing, “too much of a good thing can be bad.” His ever-present smirk widened just a bit.



Their food soon arrived, and the pair ate quietly. Oriya didn’t have much to say to that. After all, Muraki did have a point.



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Okay. So that was Chapter Two. Laying down some foundations for some later events. *Winks*



So, I hope you guys are enjoying this ^^ Two more chapters left!



Any and All Reviews are Welcome!