"Hisoka!" His smile is bright and warm, and for a moment it feels as though I've been transported back in time. He welcomes me with his expression, open and friendly, its sheer joy blotting out everything else.

But only for a moment.

I smile back, careful to keep the edge of pain from my voice. "Hello, Tsuzuki."

"Look!" He holds up a clumsy painting, colors swirling with the artless lack of expertise only children truly possess. It's been nearly a year since the incident with Sagadalion, but Tsuzuki will never fully recover. "I made it just for you," he says.

I take the picture. The figures in it are somewhat blurred and indistinguishable, but Watari's blonde ponytail and my green eyes are clearly visible. Tsuzuki's rendition of himself is in the center, smiling. Just like he is now. "It's nice, Tsuzuki," I say after a moment. His smile, if anything, gets brighter, and he drags me towards the center of the room to show off yet another of his accomplishments.

I allow myself to be led, because this is Tsuzuki, after all. In some ways, he hasn't changed. Still cheerful, still outgoing, still trying to steal sweets at every opportunity. The marks on his arm, though, visible when he pushes up the sleeve of his loose T-shirt to keep it out of the wet paint, serve as a constant reminder of what the consequences of my actions were.

Those marks restrain his natural strength; they are almost eerily similar to the ones that graced my own skin for so long. Mine were intended to bring me to a slow and painful death; Tsuzuki's serve to protect those around him. But Muraki is dead now, and the red symbols have faded. The manner of my death will no longer haunt me every time I look in the mirror. Tsuzuki haunts me now instead.

"Can we go outside, Hisoka? Can we?" The emotions coming from Tsuzuki are pure and simple, unsullied by any taint. He has no darkness in his soul. I am partially responsible for that. He looks down, crestfallen, and I realize that I haven't answered his question.

"Of course, Tsuzuki."

He grins, and rushes to tug on his shoes. Worn and battered sneakers now, not the smooth black leather he wore when he worked as my partner. "I'm ready!" He bounces on the balls of his feet, unrestrained and excited. After all this time, it still hurts. The cherry blossoms swirl around him as he runs ahead of me, laughing. After a few moments, I call him back. "Tsuzuki, there's something I need to tell you."

"Sure!" He flops down on the ground, uncaring of grass stains on his faded jeans. "You can tell me anything, Hisoka. Cause I'm real good at keeping secrets."

"It's not a secret, Tsuzuki." I'm not sure how to tell him; I'm not sure he'll understand. "I have to go away."

He nods. "How long till you come back?"

"It might be… a very long time." Muraki is dead. He's the reason I became a Shinigami in the first place. Now that my vengeance has been accomplished, I can … die. In peace. "I don't think I'll be coming back at all."

Tsuzuki's breath catches. "Never? Never ever?"

I shake my head. A single tear trails down his cheek as he tries valiantly to hold it back. He stops trying after a moment and bursts into noisy sobs, throwing himself at me, clutching me.

"You can't go away, Hisoka!"

I can't stay, either. Maybe if things had been different… But they aren't, and no matter how much responsibility I feel for Tsuzuki, I can't spend eternity taking care of him. "I have to go, Tsuzuki. I'm finished here."

"Finished with what?" he asks, voice muffled by my shirt.

"Finished… with my job," I reply helplessly. I really don't know what to say to him. If he wasn't … like this… it would be much easier to explain. Of course, then I might not be leaving. It's a moot point anyway.

Tsuzuki heaves a huge sigh and detaches himself from my torso. He looks up at me, wide-eyed. "Will you still be my friend?"

"Yeah, Tsuzuki. I will." I rest my hand in his hair, and he smiles, tears apparently forgotten.

"Then it's okay." He jumps up and bounds off again, attention having been captured by something else. When he comes back, he looks at me with an expression that mirrors the way he used to look before Sagadalion. "Hisoka, here." He tries to pull the watch off his wrist, but he can't quite get the buckle undone. I reach over and help him, noting the thick scar tissue. I wonder, not for the first time, if what Muraki told me about it was true. With his propensity for distorting the truth, the fantastic story about Tsuzuki's constant suicides while in the care of Muraki's grandfather may or may not have a basis in fact. The only one who could really tell us was Tsuzuki himself, and that's not likely now.

"What's this for?" I ask as he holds the watch out to me. It's one of the few things he has left from… before.

"So you always know what time it is where I am." He smiles, but it's a sad smile. I thank him and start to put the watch on my left wrist. He corrects me, putting it on my right wrist instead. I suppose I can't argue. It's where he wore it, after all.

I take him back inside, and leave him in his room under the watchful eyes of his guards. I suppose it's somewhat strange that a Shinigami would have his power restrained and be kept like this, especially considering Tsuzuki's condition. Normally his soul would probably just be sent onwards. I guess we all feel responsible in a way.

It's not a normal situation; the Reibaka, even when used correctly, can damage a person's soul and spirit heavily. Mine was incorrectly cast when I tried to exorcise Sagadalion out of Tsuzuki, which is probably what caused the bizarre side effects on Tsuzuki's mind and spirit. Sagadalion was thrown out and defeated, but the cost was… Tsuzuki. He's little more than a child, and he'll stay that way indefinitely. Part of me is glad that he's so happy, and hopes that it could last. Part of me wishes that we could let him go. It's not my decision to make, though, and I have to leave. He'll find his way eventually. He always has.

I smile slightly as I walk away from his door. "Goodbye, Tsuzuki."