You Will Not Be Alone Tonight
Chapter 2 - A Rented Hotel for the Poor
Tatsumi sighed as he let himself into his borderline-ascetic
apartment. It had been a long, trying day, and he would be glad to have at least
an evening's respite from the job that seemed to have taken over his life at
some point during the countless years he had spent performing it. He set the
small bag of groceries he had purchased at a nearby convenience store down on
the table by the door, which he proceeded to close and lock. The sound of the
deadbolt sliding into place was followed closely by a series of rapid clicks as
Tatsumi's thin fingers glided over the familiar surface of his alarm system's
keypad; the device beeped, and Tatsumi nodded his approval before reclaiming his
groceries and taking them to the kitchen.
After removing his suit jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt,
Tatsumi cooked a nourishing dinner of rice and steamed vegetables. Once the
dishes had been washed and put away, he showered quickly in tepid water and,
dressed only in a light robe, knelt at his kitchen table to begin the reassuring
process of balancing his chequebook. His neat pen-strokes and quick taps on the
calculator's keys were interrupted only by his periodic sipping of a glass of
expensive bourbon, one of the few luxuries he allowed himself.
Once the last bill had been appropriately considered and filed away, Tatsumi ran
a hand through his no-longer-damp hair, removed his glasses, and pulled back the
covers from his futon. As usual, he fell asleep almost immediately.
----
Watari swallowed the last drops of the potion in the hallway outside Tatsumi's
apartment door, and leaned against the doorframe until it began to take effect.
"I shouldn't be too long," he whispered before remembering that he had left 003
in her cage at home. I'm compromising a covert mission by talking to an
absent owl. No wonder everyone thinks I'm crazy.
With a deep, carefully silenced breath, he shifted into spirit form just long
enough to bypass Tatsumi's mundane defences. He was all too conscious of his own
limitations, and knew that every second he spent in spirit form before he
entered Tatsumi's mind was one less that he could devote to getting Hisoka and
Tsuzuki the information they needed. Still, he was severely tempted to maintain
it even after gaining entry to Tatsumi's home, if only as a precaution against
potential mission-breaking accidents.
To his credit, he was able to reach Tatsumi's sleeping form without causing him
to even stir from what was no doubt a profound sleep. Snatches of poetry and
song extolling the beauty of sleeping people crossed Watari's mind, and though
he agreed that Tatsumi definitely looked different in sleep, he didn't find the
secretary any more attractive than he had a few hours earlier. It's probably
because most people let their shields down when they sleep. He moved his
hand through the air over Tatsumi's face, and convinced himself that he could
feel the thickness of the other Shinigami's aura against his fingertips. You
don't even get that respite.
In the aftermath of a sudden spike of urgency, Watari shifted into his spirit
form and plunged into Tatsumi's mind.
----
The peeling wallpaper of the corridor in which Watari found himself when he was
next aware of his surroundings was so distinct that he doubted that he was in a
dream at all. It's like I've stepped into an alternate reality. That's going
to make navigation easier, but I doubt I'll be able to influence anything just
by thinking about it. He lifted his hand to brush the wallpaper, and bits of
it dropped into his palm: with great effort, Watari was able to tell that it had
been blue before its former pigmentation had given way to the sickly
yellow-brown it reflected now. I wonder what this means. It's a pity I'm a
scientist, not a psychoanalyst.
The corridor was lined with numbered doors, and the neglected cart of cleaning
supplies in the corner across from the stairwell told Watari that he was more
likely in a hotel than an apartment building. He leaned over and pulled the
closest door handle: it came off in his hand, and he examined it cursorily
before letting it fall to the floor in front of the door from which it had
become detached. Alright. More doors than that one to try.
The next door handle also fell into his hand, as did the one after that. The
fourth door Watari tried, however, clicked open easily, exposing a room that
looked more like a cell than any ordinary sort of dwelling-place. The sole
window, set into the wall across from the door, displayed only the brick wall of
the taller building next door; the mirror against the wall to Watari's right
enclosed an animate image of neatly-severed hands wringing themselves over a
table. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a broken-down bed, and
Watari barely recognized the quilt-wrapped figure perched on its edge as Tatsumi.
For a moment, he couldn't think of anything to say: Tatsumi's eyes, filtered
though they were by the lenses of his glasses, were far more piercing than he
could remember.
"Who are you?" Tatsumi asked, and an image of Tatsumi on a throne momentarily
overlaid that which actually filled Watari's vision.
"You don't know?" When no reply came, Watari sighed and ran a hand through his
hair. "Yutaka Watari. Perhaps the phrase 'How much of the department's money
have you wasted on that useless invention?' will jog your memory?"
"Watari..." Something flashed through Tatsumi's eyes, and his chin descended in
a sort of half-nod. "Yes. I remember you now. Why are you here?"
Good question. "Why are you here?'" he asked, glancing around the
closet-like room. "It's certainly not for the superior ambiance."
"I haven't got a choice. This is my life."
Watari cocked his head to the left, and thought for only a moment before
crossing to the bed and sitting down next to Tatsumi. "Well... it doesn't have
to be. There's a whole world outside this hotel, and I'd wager it's much
prettier than this place." He quelled the urge to place his hand on the violet
patch of the quilt that covered Tatsumi's shoulder. "I'd wager you'd enjoy it
much more."
"I can't leave here." Tatsumi looked at him, and Watari was shocked at the total
lack of sadness in his tone and facial expression. "If I did, I might bring the
outside world down. Its continued health hinges on my seclusion from it."
"That's ridic--" Watari cut himself off just short of trivializing what could
turn out to be an important insight into Tatsumi's pain. "What makes you feel
that way? When did this start?"
"It's always been this way. I can't change it." Tatsumi pulled the quilt a bit
closer around his chest. "You should go. The world is used to having you in it:
you will be missed."
"Well, come with me, then." Watari stood, and offered Tatsumi his hand. "At
least as far as the front door. You don't even need to leave this building if
you don't want to, but at least see me out." He grinned. "Since there's no one
else here, you're going to have to play host."
Tatsumi stared blankly at him for a time before nodding and uneasily lifting his
hand to meet Watari's. "Are you sure it's alright?"
"Definitely." Watari smiled, and fought back the temptation to grab Tatsumi's
hand and drag him out the door and down the stairwell. He's got to do this on
his own terms, in his own time. I'm just a support.
Eventually, their fingertips brushed, and Tatsumi's hand closed over Watari's.
"Alright."
Watari eased Tatsumi to his bare feet and led him slowly down the hallway.
Tatsumi hesitated at the first step, and again at the last, but eventually
Watari was able to lead him to the empty entrance hall. The door was so old that
it had rotted clear off its top hinge: Watari pulled on it gingerly, then more
forcefully, but soon realized that he couldn't open it. This doesn't make any
sense. A breeze should be enough to bring this down. He kicked it, and the
noise echoed through the empty hotel, startling Tatsumi.
"I'm sorry," Watari said as soon as realized Tatsumi's intensified unease. "I
can't get this door open. Will you help me?"
"It wasn't meant to be opened." Tatsumi's voice had become softer and gained a
more cryptic note since Watari had last heard it, and Watari worried that all of
his progress had been undone by one hasty kick.
"And you weren't meant to live in this place forever." Already, Watari could
feel his powers weakening, and knew that he wouldn't be able to hold his spirit
form for much longer before it snapped him out of this dream and back to his
usual reality. "Please? I don't have much time left, and I need to leave. I need
your help."
"That's what they said when they left me here." Tatsumi looked down. "That's
what she said, and that's why he locked me up. So many people needed my help
that I could never ask any of them for theirs. And every time, there was always
one more... and so he would tell me I had to wait a little longer to leave. And
one day he just stopped coming."
Who? But his time was too short for curiosity, and Watari took Tatsumi's wrist
gingerly. "If you open the door, you'll help everyone at once, including
yourself. You have nothing to lose. Just... please, one last time, help me."
"It won't be the last time." Tatsumi looked up at Watari, and his eyes softened
for a fleeting moment before hardening again. "But I'll do it anyway. It's all I
know how to do." He lifted the hand attached to the wrist that Watari held, and
as soon as his fingers touched the door handle, the door vanished entirely.
Sunlight streamed through the open portal, and when its first rays struck
Tatsumi, the quilt evaporated; the resulting mist wrapped itself around
Tatsumi's body, reminding Watari of a Sailor Moon transformation sequence, and
became the familiar brown suit that Tatsumi always wore to work. I hope this
is a good sign.
Despite his quickly vanishing energy, Watari was able to hold himself in
Tatsumi's reality long enough for Tatsumi to look over at him, smile, and say,
"Thank you.".
And then, Watari was suddenly kneeling beside Tatsumi's futon, the comfortable
sensation of Tatsumi's wrist in his hand replaced by a dull ache in his knees
and the beginnings of a headache. He watched Tatsumi sleep, hyper-alert for any
sign that his sojourn into Tatsumi's mind may have caused damage to the other
Shinigami; only once Tatsumi's regular breathing had reassured him
satisfactorily did he lift his hand to his temple and stagger laboriously to his
feet.
The rest is definitely going to be up to Tsuzuki and the kid, he decided
as he forced himself into spirit form just long enough to exit Tatsumi's
apartment: the strain amplified his headache into a migraine, and he groaned
over the creak of the door to the apartment building's back stairway. This
had better turn out to be worth it.
----
"So? How did it go?" Tsuzuki said excitedly as he bounded into Watari's lab;
Hisoka trailed silently behind him, at a safe distance. The hyperactivity in
Tsuzuki's voice made Watari flinch, and he quickly swallowed the handful of
migraine tablets that he had popped into his mouth just before Tsuzuki's
arrival.
"Please, keep it down, Tsuzuki? I have a splitting headache, and I'm exhausted
from walking all the way back home last night." He frowned. "I'll never take
flight or teleportation for granted again."
"But I wasn't even talking loudly!" Tsuzuki clapped his hand over his mouth as
not only Watari, but Hisoka glared at him. "Sorry."
Watari sighed. "It can't be helped, and I suppose it's my fault for...
overstaying my welcome last night."
"Did you accomplish anything, at least?" Hisoka asked.
"I hope so. But the strange thing is that I don't think I was in Tatsumi's
dreams at all. There was no hazy, chaotic quality to the environments: it was
crystal clear, and almost too organized."
"Maybe that's just a Tatsumi thing?" Tsuzuki said. "I can't see him being
anything but organized, even in his dreams."
"Or, more likely, Watari's potion worked differently than he intended it to,"
Hisoka said. "Instead of letting him into Tatsumi's dreams, it went one step
further and placed him into Tatsumi's mind." He sighed. "The potential for
permanent damage just tripled."
"Tatsumi's mind?" Watari massaged his chin. "That would explain a lot."
"Wow, Watari, you really are a genius!" Tsuzuki lapsed into puppy mode at
Watari's renewed glare. "I'm sorry again. Really sorry. Totally forgot."
Watari waved his apologies away. "It doesn't matter." He looked over at Hisoka.
"So, have you decided which of you is going in tonight?"
Tsuzuki's hand shot up immediately. "I'll go."
"He does have the best chance of making a big difference," Hisoka said. "If he
goes before me, I might be spared participation in this whole thing entirely."
Tsuzuki sank beneath the edge of the table that separated him from Hisoka until
only his eyes were visible to his partner. "That's a lot of pressure to put on
one person," he said. Then, suddenly, his eyes widened, and he craned his neck
to look past Hisoka and into the office proper. "Doughnuts! Wakaba brought
doughnuts!" he shouted, completely unmindful of Watari's headache, and launched
himself out the lab door, nearly knocking Hisoka over in the process.
As Watari massaged his temples, Hisoka said, "Did you find out what you wanted
to know?"
Watari looked at him, half in pain and half in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"You undertook this task, saving Tatsumi, with the intention of learning
something about him. Your curiosity was obvious as soon as you began telling us
about it." Hisoka folded his arms over his chest. "Did you find it?"
"Some of it," Watari admitted. As Hisoka turned to go, he said softly, "You
know, kid, I do want to help Tatsumi. It's not just a curiosity thing: I care
about him, too."
Hisoka looked back at him. "Ulterior motives do nothing to diminish true
kindness." He spoke the words as though they were a treasured quote, and left to
supervise Tsuzuki before Watari could respond to them.
Watari leaned back in his chair and tried to decide whether or not Hisoka had
excused his motivations. It came as a surprise that the answer meant so much to
him.
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