Trickery

Title: Oh Shiznats
Disclaimer: I don’t own YnM. Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuh.
Warnings: Ah-Ha! Here it begins, myahahahaha....

Alright. Chapter Three.

Enjoy!

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Oh Shiznats

The dinner had passed quietly, as expected. Neither of them had really minded– particularly Oriya. Honestly, sometimes he just didn’t know what the hell was going on in his friend’s head. But as the meal continued his thoughts began to draw away from his boss, and back to the promised list of names. Imagine that! A list of all the leaders of the gang, down to the very last name. That would make the Head Investigator’s job a hell of a lot easier. But was dinner the only price Muraki was really going to charge...? Oriya decided not to worry about that, at least not at the moment. Right now, that list was top priority.

In the mean time, the dark-haired man had to admit that the food was delicious. He did like Italian very much. Perhaps he should relax a little, the man thought, because the list was coming, the food was good, and so far Muraki hadn’t put many moves on him. That was, after all, a good sign. Maybe his white-haired companion was being well behaved for once. Who new? With a little surprise, Oriya found himself a bit high of spirits; things appeared to finally be going his way.

And his good mood, of course, hadn’t gone unnoticed by a certain albino Head of Police.

Oriya was right, Muraki was extremely talented when it came to manipulation.

After the pair had finished their meals, the waiter stepped quietly over and asked politely if they had enjoyed their dinner, to which they both nodded in reply. After collecting the dirty dishes the friends thanked him, and once again turned their attentions to each other. “Okay, Muraki.” Oriya spoke first. “Dinner. I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now what about that list?”

“Patience, patience, Ori-chan. You seem to be in a better mood?”

“Yes, I am. So don’t ruin it. May I please have that list, now?” Muraki chuckled. Oriya never forgot his manners.

“Of course you may. After all, you’re right. You did fulfill your end of the bargain.” The white-haired man pulled his briefcase from underneath his chair, unlatching the two silver clasps. The Head Investigator’s heart beat just the smallest bit faster. So, this was it. A list containing all of the names of the gang leaders. Oriya silently wished Muraki would work a bit faster as he rummaged through the papers in his white leather briefcase. Was he was moving this slow just to torture him?! “Ah,” the suave voice said after a horrible two minutes, “here we are.”

From the briefcase he pulled a folded sheet of yellow parchment. The paper was thick, and had an official air about it. Muraki closed the case, latching it once again and placing it under the chair as it had been before. He sat up once again, holding the list out for Oriya to take.

The man eyed it suspiciously for a moment. ‘This... is it?’ he thought, ‘The entire list? That seemed too simple.’ Nevertheless, the dark haired man reached out to take the yellow parchment from his friend. Muraki made a point of not letting go right away. “I do hope you are quite satisfied with it, Ori-chan.” his tone teased and a smirk crossed his face as he finally released the folded paper.

Oriya took it in his own hands, carefully unfolding the thick parchment along the heavy creases. It held eighteen names.

Ichiro
Kojiro
Akinori
Miyako
Rei
Benkei
Amane
Yoshino
Tokaji
Sadao
Nari
Ryobe
Mitsuko
Aki
Eishi
Ikki
Kyo
Haru

The Head Investigator read the list several times before finally raising his eyes to Muraki. “But...” he looked back down at the pristine handwriting, then back to his friend. “These...”

“All of the names, Ori-chan. Just like I promised,” Muraki’s voice reeked of taunting satisfaction. At once, Oriya felt a ball of frustration and anger drop sharply into his gut. Oh, he was furious.

“These are only the first names!” he almost-yelled. “There must be hundreds of people in Tokyo with these names!”

“Calm down, Ori-chan,” the white-haired man’s voice didn’t do much to sooth the fuming investigator. “I promised you a list of names, and that’s precisely what you have, is it not? Now we’ve both fulfilled our ends of the bargain.” That godforsaken smirk was really starting to get to Oriya.

He’d been tricked! He had known there was a catch! There’s always a catch with Muraki – always! Oriya wouldn’t have been very surprised at all if red-tinted smoke was seeping out of his ears in that moment. And that look on the white-haired man’s face began to annoy him more and more every second. The Head Investigator clenched his fists and shut his eyes tight to ride out that first waves of pure anger, and, (once he was sure he had himself under control,) he spoke, his voice low. There was a strained sound to it.

“Alright then, Muraki,” he said in that clearly forced-calm tone, “if you want to play more of your goddamn mind games, go find someone else! I’m not putting up with you tonight. How dare you trick me like that!” Fuming, he pulled out his wallet, removing from its folds the amount his meal had cost, and placed it on the table as calmly as he could. “I’ve got better things to do then be your plaything! Good night, Muraki. I don’t doubt you’ll be spending it with all your little criminal lackeys.”

Oriya rose to leave, snatching up his briefcase. As has he exited the booth, that ridiculously calm voice reached his ears. “Interesting you should mention them,” it said, “knowing what they’ll be up too.”

The investigator stopped in his attempted exit. Of course. Of course Muraki would say something. The man always had something to say. Something that would catch his attention, as usual. Something that, no matter how many times the voice of reason in his mind screamed at him: ‘don’t ask! Don’t ask, damnit!,’ he had to. Because he knew that, usually, something bad would happen if he didn’t.

“Just what exactly will they be up to?” Oriya asked without turning to face the white-haired man.

“Oh, well, you know how that kind is,” Muraki’s voice hadn’t lost any of its cool. “Always holding a grudge against one person or another...”

“Muraki,” Oriya’s voice was dangerous; it was daring him, just daring his friend to try and mess with his head. The white-haired man got the hint, and continued. He knew when he was pushing it too far with his Ori-chan.

“Well, there was one other name on that list. A boy by the name of Chojiri. Do you know who he is?”

“Shiratori Chojiri? That teenager who was killed a couple weeks ago? Of course I know who he is. I investigated that case personally. He was one of them?” Oriya had turned to face Muraki.
“Yes, he was. And pretty popular at that. Powerful, too, well-liked and respected. You know of the man who killed him as well, right?”

“Of course. Mitsuya Eichi.”

“That gang, of course, wasn’t very happy with him. They’ve told me about it. They tell be about everything they do, and I tell them how not to get caught.” The Head Investigator swallowed down some angry words. Best to let his boss finish what he was saying. “They decided, as a bit of payback, to kill his daughter. Possibly his wife, as well. Since Mitsuya himself is currently in jail, they decided that was the next best thing.”

“What?! But... when? Tonight?!” Oriya’s anger vanished, replaced by disbelief.

“No,” Muraki said, finishing his wine in one last sip. “Tomorrow night.” He smirked, yet again, gaining eye contact with his dark-haired employee. “Wouldn’t you love to stop two innocents from being murdered?”

“Don’t you kid with me, Kazutaka! Are you telling the truth? Or are you lying, like you did with this list?” The man’s brown eyes narrowed; he was nearly shaking with rage. The Head of Police placed a hand on his heart.

“I swear to you, my Ori-chan, I am telling the truth.”

“And how exactly do you expect me to stop them, hm? With this list?” Oriya motioned to the list in his hand. “You should have just given me their favorite colors! It would have done just as well!”

“I’ve got more than that, you know,” Muraki continued, his voice perpetually calm, “I’ve got full names. First and last. I’ve got addresses, major meeting places– ” the ghost-like man stood, taking the two-step distance to Oriya, and leaned forward to whisper gently in his ear, “evidence left at every crime scene to make all the arrests...” The dark haired man gasped, but whether it was from his boss’ statement or the seductive voice purring in his ear, he didn’t know.

“Im... impossible!” his voice shook. “My men thoroughly checked over every crime scene! How could we have missed anything?”

“You’d be surprised, my Ori-chan...” Kazutaka’s voice was low, sensual, and sultry. Oriya was about to reply when he felt an arm snake its way around his waist. He realized just how close he was to his friend.

Quickly, and none too lightly, he shoved his boss away from him.

“I said not to touch me.”
Muraki idly adjusted his glasses, never breaking eye contact with Oriya. “Afraid of me?” he asked chidingly. the Head Investigator decided not to answer, instead choosing cut right to the chase.

“Give me that information, Muraki. If you really do have it, then just give it to me.”

“See now, that’s just the thing. I can’t.”

“What?!” Oriya’s voice had once again filled with anger, and he blurted out the word a bit louder than he had originally intended to, which turned a few heads. Slightly embarrassed, he cleared his throat. “What?” the dark haired man repeated, voice considerably quieter this time. “Why the hell not?!”

“Because,” the Head of Police sighed, as though saying ‘oh well, that’s too bad.’ “I appear to have left it at home.”

And that was it. Everything clicked. So that had been Muraki’s plan. Trick Oriya into going to his apartment, and then have his way with him. The investigator couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “Oh, that’s clever, Muraki,” he chuckled some more, though half heartedly. He would not be manipulated by his friend. He wouldn’t! “You almost got me, too. Well, I suppose you game is over then, hm? Because I’m not falling for it!” Any humor that had previously lingered in his voice was now gone, replaced entirely by anger. “You may be able to fool a lot of people, Muraki, but you don’t fool me! Keep all your damn information, I don’t care! If you’re really that desperate, go find a prostitute, because I wont be tricked into being your plaything!” And with that, Oriya turned on his heel, and left.

He exited the restaurant quickly, not bothering to hide his irritation from the public. The nerve of that man! Why was he still friends with him? Why? Oriya wondered how he had been able to refrain himself from simply hauling off and punching the white-haired man squarely in the nose. Wasn’t it bad enough that Muraki had lied to him about the list? That he had to go and try to lure Oriya in with bait, like a fish?! The dark-haired man pushed the door open with more force than what was absolutely necessary, the bells at the top jingling furiously. Keeping his eyes sternly on the ground, the Head Investigator of the Tokyo Police Department plowed his way through the crowds on the sidewalk.

Onward Oriya trudged, grumbling to himself, cursing Muraki a hundred times over. In fact, he was so deeply involved in his long list of obscenities that the man’s heart nearly vaulted out of his chest when, seemingly out of nowhere, an unnaturally strong hand locked itself tightly onto his shoulder, spinning him around to an eyeful of – whiteness. A familiar voice cut through his senses, hot puffs of breath stroking his ear.

“That was very rude, Ori-chan.”

“Get the hell away from me!” Oriya demanded, attempting to push the man away from him, though coming out unsuccessful. “Don’t you understand I don’t want to see you right now?!” Muraki pulled away a bit to make eye contact, though still kept closer than what Oriya would have liked.

“I think it’s you who does not understand, my Oriya.” the ghost-like man’s voice wasn’t quite so sensual, though still low and guff. “A woman and her daughter are going to be killed tomorrow night. You have the ability to prevent that from happening.”

“So do you! What’s stopping you, Muraki? Aren’t you Head of Police?” The investigator struggled some more, but to no avail. Muraki had too good a hold on him.

“True,” he said, “but I don’t really care what happens either way. However,” he leaned forward just a bit, touching his nose to Oriya’s. “I know you’ve always been one to care about such things, Ori-chan.”

“You’re such a bastard, Muraki.”

“I love you, too.” Oriya was giving in, the white-haired man could see it in his face. The Head Investigator cared too much for his own good – cared for people he didn’t even know, cared for the family of a man he’d arrested not more than three weeks ago. “I have the information,” he purred, “all you have to do is come with me.”

“I hate you,” Oriya growled.

“Come now,” the Head of Police chuckled. “You know that isn’t true. So, are you coming or not?”

The dark-haired investigator turned the situation over in his mind. ‘Don’t go with Muraki, go home, and make it through the night un-molested, but at the same time allow two innocent people to be murdered tomorrow night. Or, go with Muraki, most likely get molested, if not raped, but on the up-side get the information I need to make eighteen successful arrests, and save two lives.’ Oriya blinked. This was one hell of a decision!

“Choose wisely, Ori-chan...”

“Shut up! I’m thinking!” He fidgeted. Oh gosh, Muraki was winning! Oriya had promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen! Once again the dark-haired man ran the situation through his mind. Oh shiznats.

“I...” ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’ “Alright! Fine! I – I’ll go. But only for the information!” Oriya had to force himself to refrain from just screaming in the man’s face. Why he was even bothering to restrain himself, he didn’t know. “If you’re lying, and it turns out you don’t have everything you said you did– ” he gave Muraki a death glare, for reassurance, “then I’m leaving. And that’s that. Got it?”

“Of course,” Muraki smiled as politely as he could. “I’ve got it.”
“Good.”


Muraki took firm hold of Oriya’s wrist, just to make sure then man wouldn’t attempt an escape. Perfect. Things had gone wrong for only a few moments, but his plan turned out to be working perfectly, if not flawlessly. Kazutaka sighed. His Ori-chan was so easy to predict.

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From inside the dark room, one could quite easily hear the distinct jingling of keys, and the soft ‘click’ as the door was unlocked.

The door opened swiftly, a thin bar of light cutting into the darkness, growing quickly. The owner of the comfortable, organized, and spacious apartment – Muraki Kazutaka – stepped in with a natural grace. His good friend Mibu Oriya entered soon after, looking none-to-happy. In fact, the man was down right nettled.

“Make this fast, Kazutaka,” he said, “I have to be up for work in the morning, you know.”

“I’ll be as fast as I can, Ori-chan,” the ghost-like man replied, first removing his white trench coat, then the white overcoat of the suit. He hung them both on the coatrack next to the door, which he shut soon after with quiet ease. “Make yourself at home.”

“I’ll just stand, thank you,” Oriya sneered. At this point, he dark-haired man found himself far beyond manners.

Muraki disappeared down a hallway, not bothering to turn on any lights. A soft ‘thud’ was heard as he opened a door. The investigator kept his place in the livingroom, preferring not to follow his friend. He waited. A good five minutes passed. Then another. Ten minutes had gone by. Hadn’t Muraki said to him, ‘I’ll be as fast as I can’ ? Well? What the hell was taking so long?

Soon fifteen minutes had passed.

Then twenty.

Oriya sighed angrily. “Muraki!” he called, none-to-pleasantly, “What the hell is taking so long?!”

No answer came. Oriya waited another five minutes.

“Well?” Still no answer. Checking his watch, Oriya saw he’d been standing in the same spot for twenty-five minutes. This was just ridiculous!

Slowly, Oriya stepped quietly to the end of the hallway, leaving his briefcase and shoes by the door. “Muraki?” still no reply came. ‘Alright,’ he told himself, ‘he’s up to something. And I’m not sticking around to find out.’ Just as he was about to turn and head for the door, he heard that familiar voice.

“I’m down here, Ori-chan. No need to go anywhere.” ‘Ori-chan’ saw a white figure appear in the doorway at the end of the hall. The investigator shivered. He was so much like a ghost...

“What the hell is taking you so long?!” he asked, “I’ve been waiting for nearly half an hour!”

“It took me a bit, I admit,” was Muraki’s smooth reply, “but I found it.” He held up about three sheets of paper, stapled together.

“Good,” Oriya declared, “bring it over here.” A few moments passed in awkward silence, but Muraki’s quiet reply came at last.

“No,” it said. Oriya didn’t know what to say at first. That voice sounded so different from the ghostly man’s usual tone. It was deeper, a bit dangerous, but most of all it was very, very hungry.

“Ex... excuse me?” was Oriya’s shaky reply.

“Come and get it for yourself.”

“No!” the dark-haired man refused, a bit startled at the eeriness in the voice. “I wont!”

“Then you’ll let that woman and her child be murdered.” The tall phantom at the end of the hall leaned against the doorframe. “How could you let that happen, Ori-chan? Have you no heart?” After the investigator did not reply, Muraki added, “I’m not going to hurt you. Just come and get the information.”

Oriya was utterly confused as to what to do. Muraki wasn’t lying. He could tell when Muraki was lying, and this wasn’t one of those times. Two innocent people would be killed tomorrow night, and that was a list of all the information he needed to make every arrest. And all he needed to do was go and retrieve it for himself . ‘Easier said then done,’ the dark-haired man thought.

“Muraki... just... for crying out loud! Just give me the information!” Oriya winced. Was he actually begging, now? A ghostly chuckle rumbled up from the dark hallway.

“Come, Ori-chan,” that frightening voice followed, and he dangled the papers delicately in his slim, pale fingers. “Come and get it.”

‘Okay,’ Mibu Oriya decided, ‘this is it. I have to get it. I... I just can’t get too close. Just grab it, and back away.’ He took a cautious step forward. ‘...just grab it, and back away...’ Slowly, carefully, timidly he took step after step, closer and closer to the phantom at the end of the hall. Approaching Muraki was like approaching a tiger which could pounce at any moment. A very temperamental, intelligent, dangerous tiger.

A predator.

Closer. Every second just a bit closer. Step by step, bit by bit. Was Oriya actually... frightened? Was he so nervous to go near Muraki Kazutaka, a man he had known since childhood, and had never feared before? Not like this – never like this. But that voice, and the stance, and the stakes, and the way his hair fell on his face just so, draping his eyes in a veil of shadow, like a mask. His pure whiteness against the pitch black of the hallway.

Like a ghost.

An angel, surrounded by darkness.

A predator.

‘Just grab it, and back away,’ the dark-haired investigator continued to tell himself, ‘just grab it, and back away, he can’t touch you if you don’t want him to... just, just grab it...’ He was very close now. All he had to do was reach out and take it from those pale, ghostly hands. Those eyes – Oriya still couldn’t see them. Muraki still hid behind his mask of shadow. Oriya could see that the smile he wore was not his usual smirk. Instead, it was like a challenge. He heard Muraki speak again, his voice low and deep, almost in a whisper.

“Are you scared, Ori-chan?” it said to him knowingly, in a sensuous voice. “Go ahead, take it.”

Go ahead, take it.

Another shudder ran through Oriya. It sounded so simple. ‘Just grab it, and back away.’ That was it. All he had to do was reach out and take it. But... why was he so frightened? And of Muraki, of all people? He had known the man for so long, since they were children. Why was Oriya allowing himself to be intimidated by this man?

Because Muraki had never acted quite this way before.

The investigator was doing his best to hide his fear, but it was no use. He knew his friend could read him like a book. How was it that Oriya couldn’t tell what Muraki was thinking? But just then Oriya realized, and nearly kicked himself at the simplicity of it, that he could. He knew exactly what Muraki was thinking, and he didn’t like it.

‘All I have to do is reach out,’ Oriya told himself reassuringly, ‘just reach out and... take it. Then get away...’ Carefully, the dark-haired man began to raise his hand, ever-so-slowly. He didn’t notice, but the dangerous smile on Muraki’s face twitched, just a bit, at the corners. As Oriya cautiously moved his hand forward, he brought his eyes to the pale face of his friend. So much like a ghost.
Out... out... just a little farther, and Oriya would be able to snatch the papers. He knew all he had to do was move fast. But, for some reason, the dark haired man found himself numb. He couldn’t move fast. ‘I have to,’ he told himself.

There it was! His fingers finally came into contact with the cold papers. What would happen? Would Muraki pull it away? Would he even let go? The smile on the phantom face grew just the smallest bit wider.

There was a pause, a moment of tension, each expecting the other to make a move, and ready to react. Oriya swallowed hard.

Slowly, gently, he gave the paper a tug, and then–

Nothing.

Muraki let the papers slip harmlessly from his fingers. They flopped about idly in Oriya’s shaking hand. He couldn’t believe it. The phantom face remained still as stone.

Silence.

There was ear-splitting silence, broken only by Oriya’s quiet, whispering voice.

“Kazu...”


Then, in a flash, everything exploded. The silence shattered, Oriya’s cry of alarm fragmenting it like a bullet. White! All he could see was white! Strong arms trapped him, and dragged him closer. “Muraki!” the dark-haired man yelled, “Stop–!” The papers slipped from his hand, falling to the floor.
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And so it begins...

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter ^^ One more chapter left to go, and I think you’ll all like it. *Smiles*

Any and All Reviews Are Welcome!