[Yami no Matsuei] (PG-13)
Nov. 27th, 2012 01:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mtxref_ficAuthor's Note: Written for Any, any hero/any villain, 1001 Nights Muraki/Tsuzuki, possible AU, in which Muraki has installed Tsuzuki as his companion.
The tenth night that Tsuzuki had spent in Muraki's mansion, and so far, he had succeeded in keeping his keeper from "taking possession of the prize". He had seventy years worth of cases to his name, and he was more than willing to tell the stories, names and details changed: it seemed to satisfy it.
It started on the very first night, the night he brought Tsuzuki into the family mansion. Tsu had thought to eat a heavy meal, make himself too logy for Muraki to even think of doing anything with him. But when the servant led him into the room, bathed and dressed only in a silk dressing gown, he found a light repast of fruit and cream awaiting him, laid out on a table. Muraki himself reclined at ease on the four-poster bed that dominated the room.
"Is something the matter, Mister Tsuzuki?" he asked, watching Tsuzuki, like a hawk watching a wary mouse. "Is the food not to your liking? I know that you have a sweet tooth, but I thought that something lighter was in order, something other than the heavily sugared cakes and buns you prefer."
Dammit, this was not going to work at all, Tsuzuki thought.
"Oh, I thought ahead: you're almost tediously easy to predict," Muraki said, recrossing his long legs, giving Tsuzuki a glimpse of what lay under the skirts of his robe. "I can't have you getting yourself logy on me, not before I've taken possession of you, my prize of prizes."
He patted the cushion beside him. "Come, why don't you sit here beside me, let me feed you some of these tidbits." But from the look in Muraki's eye, he was much more interested in making Tsuzuki the bill of fare. Metaphorically, that is.
"Ahh, well, um, how about a bit of entertainment before, um, dinner..." Tsuzuki offered, approaching the bed and perching himself on the foot.
Muraki settled back on the pillows. "Hmmm, I suppose I should humor you: but it would depend on what you had in mind."
"How about a story? I know some good ones," Tsuzuki said.
"Hmm? What kind of stories? I'm not really a child to be entertained with idle folk tales," Muraki replied, patiently.
Tsuzuki dug into his memories, the cases he had covered, the souls he had collected. "I know what happened to your uncle Naritaka, how he really died and where his soul ended up..."
Muraki gathered himself a bit, warily, but curiosity showed in his good eye. "Do tell," he said, trying to sound flippant, but not quite succeeding.
And so Tsuzuki launched into his tale, embroidering some elements of the events that had lead up to the death of this uncle whom Muraki had not met, fleshing out more details, keeping the madman's attention wrapt. But when he came toward the end, when he was about to get to the actual death, he paused, glancing at the clock. "It's getting late, and don't you have a surgery tomorrow? I guess I'll have to hold off on telling you the end till tomorrow night."
"Oh, dammit, you're right," Muraki murmured, shifting on his pillows to lay down. "Very well, we'll hold off on our embrace till tomorrow night."
"After I've finished my story," Tsuzuki put in, laying down beside his keeper. He had to make some concession to the madman.
"Yes, after you've finished your story," Muraki replied, sleepily, slipping an arm under Tsuzuki and drawing him close, thankfully, going no further that night...
The tenth night that Tsuzuki had spent in Muraki's mansion, and so far, he had succeeded in keeping his keeper from "taking possession of the prize". He had seventy years worth of cases to his name, and he was more than willing to tell the stories, names and details changed: it seemed to satisfy it.
It started on the very first night, the night he brought Tsuzuki into the family mansion. Tsu had thought to eat a heavy meal, make himself too logy for Muraki to even think of doing anything with him. But when the servant led him into the room, bathed and dressed only in a silk dressing gown, he found a light repast of fruit and cream awaiting him, laid out on a table. Muraki himself reclined at ease on the four-poster bed that dominated the room.
"Is something the matter, Mister Tsuzuki?" he asked, watching Tsuzuki, like a hawk watching a wary mouse. "Is the food not to your liking? I know that you have a sweet tooth, but I thought that something lighter was in order, something other than the heavily sugared cakes and buns you prefer."
Dammit, this was not going to work at all, Tsuzuki thought.
"Oh, I thought ahead: you're almost tediously easy to predict," Muraki said, recrossing his long legs, giving Tsuzuki a glimpse of what lay under the skirts of his robe. "I can't have you getting yourself logy on me, not before I've taken possession of you, my prize of prizes."
He patted the cushion beside him. "Come, why don't you sit here beside me, let me feed you some of these tidbits." But from the look in Muraki's eye, he was much more interested in making Tsuzuki the bill of fare. Metaphorically, that is.
"Ahh, well, um, how about a bit of entertainment before, um, dinner..." Tsuzuki offered, approaching the bed and perching himself on the foot.
Muraki settled back on the pillows. "Hmmm, I suppose I should humor you: but it would depend on what you had in mind."
"How about a story? I know some good ones," Tsuzuki said.
"Hmm? What kind of stories? I'm not really a child to be entertained with idle folk tales," Muraki replied, patiently.
Tsuzuki dug into his memories, the cases he had covered, the souls he had collected. "I know what happened to your uncle Naritaka, how he really died and where his soul ended up..."
Muraki gathered himself a bit, warily, but curiosity showed in his good eye. "Do tell," he said, trying to sound flippant, but not quite succeeding.
And so Tsuzuki launched into his tale, embroidering some elements of the events that had lead up to the death of this uncle whom Muraki had not met, fleshing out more details, keeping the madman's attention wrapt. But when he came toward the end, when he was about to get to the actual death, he paused, glancing at the clock. "It's getting late, and don't you have a surgery tomorrow? I guess I'll have to hold off on telling you the end till tomorrow night."
"Oh, dammit, you're right," Muraki murmured, shifting on his pillows to lay down. "Very well, we'll hold off on our embrace till tomorrow night."
"After I've finished my story," Tsuzuki put in, laying down beside his keeper. He had to make some concession to the madman.
"Yes, after you've finished your story," Muraki replied, sleepily, slipping an arm under Tsuzuki and drawing him close, thankfully, going no further that night...
