New Year in Winter

The Cards were celebrating.

The blue dusk of their Place nearly sparkled with the brightness of their pleasure, lit with the glow of them flitting back and forth, congratulating each other, sharing stories of their capture.

Yue watched over them. He took his duty to them seriously, unlike certain fat, lazy Sun guardians he could name.

He watched, but he did not rejoice with them.

A soft breeze touched the feathers of his wings and he glanced over, unsurprised to see Windy. She stood beside him, hands clasped and eyes lowered. “Yue-sama.”

“Yes?” he asked, when she hesitated.

“I beg your pardon,” she murmured softly.

Yue shrugged one shoulder. “There is no need. It wasn’t your fault.” Not Windy’s fault that he had been captured himself, subdued and humbled by a little slip of a girl with bright eyes and an open smile. “It was your Master’s power and intent.”

“Yes.” Windy smiled herself, almost as brightly as their new Master, hands pressed to her breast. “A warm power.” Her eyes met Yue’s properly once more. “I think… you will like it, too, Yue-sama.”

Yue sniffed. “It will be quite some time before she is strong enough to see.”

“Ah.” Windy’s smile was, perhaps, a bit wistful as she bowed to him and moved back among the other cards, who seized on her happily. She had been with the new Master the longest; everyone wanted to hear her stories.

As the celebration rolled on Yue caught a number of glances in his direction, flickering toward him between laughter. He answered them only with his presence; he wasn’t sociable, the way Keroberos was.

After a while, though, shadow moved in the blue and Dark slipped up to lean delicately against his shoulder. He didn’t unfold his arms, but he did curve a wing in over her. Dark was, of all of them, the closest to his own nature; she was comfortable enough to have here. She knew the value of silence, for one thing.

“The bell did not give her any power,” Dark said, eventually.

At that, Yue stirred. “I know.” He glanced down at the spilled shadow of her hair. “The bell was of our alignment. I saw what it did.” And it hadn’t been made to do anything but bridge the girl’s own power to Windy. His mouth tightened. “If she had not defeated me by her own power, I would not have chosen her as Master for you.” No matter how determined Clow had been to make him.

“Oh, Yue-sama.” Dark sighed. “You can choose for yourself, as well, you know,” she said softly.

Yue looked away, long hair swinging against his back. “That is not my purpose.” That much had been made plain; twice. Once by his abandonment and again when Clow guided another’s power to take him.

Dark looked up at him with a faint smile. “A new Master is new life to us. A new life gives us all new purpose, don’t you think?” She stood on her toes to brush a light kiss over his cheek and slipped away as Yue blinked at her.

He thought of calling her back to ask what she meant, but she had already found Light and twined fingers with her, and he knew the two of them had been unhappy to be separated while the Cards were scattered.

He settled back to watch over them. He would hold to his duty for however long it would last. It seemed to be all he had.

End

Three Plus One

Akaya looked down at his knuckles turning white where he held the rail behind the coach’s bench. Out on the court, Sanada-fukubuchou was cutting down his opponent, but Akaya knew how that looked, he didn’t really need to watch.

And he wasn’t sure he wanted to meet anyone’s eyes right now.

He wanted to ask “why”, except that that was obvious. He had been really struggling with his opponent. His teammates hadn’t. He knew why, it was just…

Wasn’t it ever going to change? No matter how much his game evolved, no matter what tactics he found to make himself stronger? Where they always going to be ahead of him like this?

“Yukimura-buchou.” He’d spoken before he realized he was going to, and bit his lip. What did he think he was going to say, anyway?

Yukimura-buchou didn’t look away from the game. “Did you hear what they were calling you?”

Akaya blinked. “What?”

“While you were defeating the other player. Did you hear what the crowd was calling?”

Akaya thought, but he couldn’t really recall much besides the beat of his pulse in his ears. “No.”

Now Yukimura-buchou looked over his shoulder, smiling though his eyes were chill with the edge of being on the court. “Demon.”

The thought fluttered around Akaya’s mind, that that was kind of neat, after all it was what they called Yukimura and Sanada and Yanagi, wasn’t it? The three demons.

His eyes widened.

“I won’t be waiting,” Yukimura-buchou said, voice soft. “But I will be ready.” He turned back to watch the game and added, more briskly, “You know you can do it, now, so stop lazing around.”

“Yes, Yukimura-buchou,” Akaya managed. He stepped back and sat down on a bench with a thump, where Niou-senpai promptly messed up his hair and asked, “Dense much?”

“Ah, don’t mind,” Marui-senpai put in with a lazy bubble. “It was kind of fun. Good practice for precision and all that.”

“And you justified our trust admirably,” Yagyuu-senpai added with a faint smile.

Akaya scrunched down a little and said “Okay” in a small voice. His senpai took care of him; he was used to that.

“And you’re still conscious and standing,” Yanagi-senpai noted a bit wryly, from where he, too, was watching Sanada-fukubuchou. “So obviously you were also well up to the endurance training menu Seiichi had Genichirou construct for you.”

“I was?” Akaya thought about that. “Oh. Good.”

Marui-senpai groaned. “He didn’t even notice! Is he really human?”

Niou-senpai smirked, thin and sharp. “Definitely a demon.”

Akaya straightened at that, determination gripping him, fierce and familiar. “Yes.” He would be. He would find his way and catch them all and be number one. He grinned up at his senpai. “Thanks.”

They smiled back at him, bright and sharp, as the match was called. Rikkai’s victory.

Just the way it should be.

End

Personal Weapons

She knew that she was spending too much time, far too much time, with Hiruma when she found her right hand tensing during extra long committee meetings, index finger curling further back the longer Yomura-kun babbled on. She worried a bit about that, but not too much. The telling point, she felt, was that, however enticing the idea of things that went bang and whoosh and crackle were, she didn’t really want to shoot Hiruma himself. If she were being corrupted by his wild, thoughtless attitude she would, wouldn’t she? No one annoyed her as much as he did, after all.

What she wanted to do to Hiruma was swat him repeatedly in the face with a wet mop. And only sometimes.

She did find her eyes and then her fingers wandering over the guns he left on the bench beside him, though, tracing over the rough grips, brushing the slides. She had to admit, in the privacy of her own mind, the way people hopped to do what Hiruma said when he had one of these in hand was extremely tempting at times.

“You wanting to burn something else up, fucking manager? You’ve got the wrong one for that.”

Mamori snatched her fingers back, flushing. “Don’t be ridiculous!” Warming to the offensive, which was the only way to deal with Hiruma, she added, “And that was your fault for leaving something that dangerous just lying around.”

He raised a brow at her and snorted. “Who was it who picked the damn thing up and pulled the trigger without knowing what it was?”

“You should have said,” she insisted stubbornly.

He gave her a long look. “Well, that’s a .30, and that’s an AK-47, and this is an uzi, just for fun, that one’s a SAM, and for fuck’s sake you don’t just poke at them, hold it like you mean it.”

Her spine stiffened at that last bit. “Fine, then!” She wrapped her fingers around the smallest one, holding it away from either of them.

Hiruma rolled his eyes. “Not like that!” He pushed up to his feet and came around behind her, hands closing over hers to bring the gun up in front of them. “Even the kick on this little thing will take it out of your hands if you hold it like that. Like this, so the punch goes back into your shoulders.”

At first she stiffened a bit, finding him more or less hugging her. Kind of more than less, actually. She blushed at the press of his thigh against hers as he nudged her foot forward.

“Little further apart; there. Now unlock your elbows.”

Slowly, she relaxed. His hands moving her arms, shoulders, ribs, were light and impersonal. And she could feel that this was a more solid way to stand.

“Like this?” She lifted the gun in both hands, chest high.

“About. Now, see that blocking sled over there?” A long finger pointed over her shoulder.

“The one Kurita-kun broke today?” she shot back a bit dryly. Honestly, it was a good thing Hiruma did have ways to get more funding out of the principal.

“Yeah, that one.” She could hear his grin. “Look hard at it, and pull the trigger slowly.”

The crack of the shot made her jump, and even she could see the bullet went wild. She frowned and lined up again before Hiruma could say anything. She wasn’t used to not being able to do the things she tried. The next one jarred her back, rocking her on her heels, but a hole darkened the sled’s padding. She nodded with satisfaction and lifted her chin, looking over her shoulder at Hiruma. Just let him try to call her ignorant or incompetent again. When their eyes met she had to blink, though.

His sharp grin, gleaming down at her, wasn’t impersonal at all.

End

Negatives

This was how he put it to himself:

Anezaki Mamori understood the need to fight for what you wanted and cared about.

She was cheerful and outgoing, and probably even sweet, but he doubted she’d be able to carry off refinement or elegance without bursting into giggles half way there.

She never fought fire with fire; she fought fire with a goddamn mop.

She cared for the weak and defenseless, and also for the strong and independent, and even for the downright fucking dangerous. She cared for people like it was her favorite hobby, and it drove him batshit insane and it made him laugh.

She never touched alcohol, not because she took any special effort to avoid it, but simply as though drinking herself drunk never occurred to her as a useful thing to do.

She growled at him and about him, glaring nose-to-nose, but she never once thought she was a failure because of him.

He’d seen older men, men with rings on their left hands, look at her, and he’d seen her dismiss them, cheerful and oblivious and impervious as a boulder rolling over a branch.

In short, Anezaki Mamori was as different from his mother as it was possible to be and still have two X chromosomes, and that was why he was still standing here, watching her look away and turn red, and touching his cheek where he could still feel the light brush of her lips.

“Crazy fucking woman,” he muttered at last, and she spun around, fire in her eyes, mouth open to tear a strip off him, and then she stopped.

He thought it was because he’d taken her hand.

End

Souvenirs

He’s never been a sensualist or any kind of aesthete. He doesn’t savor food or drink for their tastes. He doesn’t buy fine clothes to feel the textures against his skin. He doesn’t go to watch the flowers at any time of year.

The few sense pleasures he enjoys are the gifts of other people.

The hot, black bitterness of coffee, steaming in a thick mug, is the taste and smell of a talk with Musashi. The dry rattle of paper and wood, under the still, slanting shadows of leaves and temple roofs, is the sound and color of Kurita’s trust.

And, while he never expected to enjoy either, the sharp tang of cleaners coming off sleek, bright surfaces is the scent of Anezaki’s care.

So when Anezaki wonders how he can possibly drink his coffee black, or Musashi wants to know why he doesn’t open a window already, he just laughs.

Life is like that.

End

Blue and Red

When Shou Yousei stopped in to see how his newest Emperor was doing, he expected to find Seien in a bad temper. The boy seemed to compensate for his smooth public face by snapping in private, at least until his brother or the Kou girl showed up.

He did not quite expect what he found.

“Look at this!” Seien brandished a file as if he’d like to throw it. “This is what you call a working government? They leave out half the details, a good third of them have no sense of how to organize their words, and how am I supposed to tell whether they’re concealing things or just bad at reporting?!” He glared at his handful of paper fit to set it on fire, and added, “Most of their handwriting is dreadful, too.”

Yousei couldn’t help a chuckle. Who’d have guessed the boy would be such a perfectionist? “I suppose you could make them do it again until they get it right,” he suggested. The vision of agony and outrage among the lazier officials was one to warm the heart. To warm his heart, anyway.

“Then I’d never find out what’s going on this month,” Seien noted acidly. He dropped the files back on his desk and fixed Yousei with a narrow eye. “You’re supposed to be in charge of these people; can anything be done?”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” He smiled as Seien eyed him. He was actually quite pleased the boy was finally learning he couldn’t do everything himself, but needling the royal family was one of his few remaining entertainments and he had no intention of stopping.

Before he could prod the Emperor any more, though, a muffled thumping interrupted them. It sounded rather like someone knocking on the door with his toe and Yousei’s brows rose as he reached back and opened it. The door revealed a stack of paper above a long, blue court robe.

“This is all of them,” the stack announced, edging carefully in the door. “Ryuuki-sama is still looking for the last of two years ago.” The stack thudded down on Seien’s desk, revealing an unusually rumpled Ran Shuuei.

Seien sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “All right.” He gave Yousei a distracted wave of dismissal, already reaching for the top scroll. “Soon, if you please, Shou-taishi.”

“Of course,” Yousei murmured and took himself out, closing the door behind him.

Then he leaned against the wall and had a good laugh. He hadn’t seen a Ran that discomfited in decades. This emperor looked like one to keep, which was a good thing; breaking in new ones was so wearing.

Kou Reishin looked at Yousei steadily over the edge of his fan. “And you want Kouyuu reassigned to assist our new Emperor?” The fan flicked like a cat’s tail. “Why are you asking me, instead of him, Shou-taishi? You certainly don’t need anyone’s approval to reassign an official.”

Yousei snorted. “Don’t play that game with me, boy. He’ll do exactly as he thinks you wish, and you won’t wish unless you think it will be a good place for him.” He cradled the tea he’d been offered in his hands; the heat felt good against his knuckles.

“And will it be good?” Reishin looked out the window with a fine show of disinterest.

“If he makes it good.” Yousei lived by that philosophy, though a great many officials here at court seemed to miss it. “He already knows Ryuuki-sama, doesn’t he? Don’t worry, your boy will fit right in.”

“Hm.” Reishin’s eyes were cool. Finally he snapped his fan closed. “Kouyuu will retain his rank as my assistant,” he declared.

“Done.” Yousei figured he’d gotten off easily, really, though Protocol might kick a bit over this.

Reishin waved at him. “Go ask Kouyuu, then.”

Yousei had to smile, as he left. Reishin might think he concealed his care for that foundling of his, but for such a manipulative man to let a son and underling have his head so completely? That was the telling point.

Yousei should know, after all.

“Shou-taishi!” Seien looked downright indignant. “This is completely unacceptable! You can’t just drag him away from Reishin-dono.”

Yousei bit back a grin as Reishin’s boy suddenly looked a lot less stiff and formal, and those young eyes of his softened with pleasure. He’d thought these two would get along well, with their strenuous notions of loyalty.

Seien was still carrying on. “And what am I supposed to do if Reishin takes offense?”

A very good point, Yousei had to admit. No one held a grudge or got revenge like the Kou. “You don’t trust me to have thought of that?” he prodded, and had to stifle a laugh as Seien snorted. Well, better this than that the boy rely on him too much, at this stage.

Kouyuu finally stepped forward. “It’s all right, Majesty.” He actually smiled. “Reishin-sama agreed to this. So did I.”

Yousei rolled his eyes at what an afterthought the boy made that last bit sound. At last his new Emperor stopped glaring at Shou and paid attention to his prospective advisor instead.

“You’re sure?” Seien sat back, anxiety and relief flickering behind his eyes. “Another experienced eye on these reports would be very welcome.”

Kouyuu spread his hands. “I am a civil official, and you’re the Emperor,” he pointed out. “I’m at your service.”

“Hm.” Seien smiled faintly. “Well, if nothing else, Ryuuki won’t have to go as far to visit you.”

“Ah. You, um, know about that.” Kouyuu clasped his hands, looking faintly nervous. As anyone would, who had ever seen Seien with his brother, to be sure. Even Yousei kept his hands off Ryuuki.

“I know everything that has to do with my brother.” Seien smiled, a bit crookedly. “Now it’s my government I need to find out about.”

The prospect of a meaty job to sink his teeth into gave Kouyuu back his composure immediately. “Of course.”

Yousei left them bent over Seien’s stack of papers and took himself out without waiting for thanks. He didn’t expect any, not yet.

“So?” Enjun asked, pouring tea for all of them. “How is our Emperor doing?”

“Settling in nicely.” Yousei sipped appreciatively. “If we’re lucky, Ran and Li will give him some practice at actual leadership.”

Sou snorted. “I still say it would have been easier to put him in charge of a military expedition or two.”

“You just wanted to go along on those yourself,” Yousei observed, and chuckled as Sou shrugged, not denying it.

“And it’s officials he has to learn how to lead,” Enjun added with a thin smile. “As opposed to herd.”

“A difficult lesson,” Yousei murmured into his cup. “But one every Emperor has to learn. So we’ll find a way to teach him.”

Enjun laughed. “Ah, that’s our Shou, all right. Don’t you ever think of anything but the good of the throne?”

“I think of a good drink.” Yousei lifted his cup and bit back a sigh at the flash of warmth and anger in Enjun’s eyes. “We were lucky, though,” he added casually. “This time we had two excellent candidates to rule. It’s almost a shame they can’t both be emperor, really.”

The heat hidden at the back of Enjun’s eyes turned calculating, and Yousei stifled his flinch harshly. If this is truly what you wish, I will take you there, he told his friend in the silence of his heart. But oh, Enjun, couldn’t you have chosen another way?

The head of the Sa clan was not choosing another way, though, and Yousei listened to his companions chuckling over the idea of co-Emperors, and steeled himself. He would follow both his promise and his heart, and if it killed him to do it, well. Perhaps he would not regret that.

End

Still Air

Darkness.

Stifling darkness and the almost-silence that meant there was no one near him, no one with him, but people nevertheless. People beyond his reach, walking around out in the light, forgetting him, leaving him.

“Haa!” Ryuuki started up with a harsh gasp, eyes wide trying to see something other than darkness.

And there was light.

Light and warm, strong hands on his shoulders.

“Majesty, wake up, it’s all right.” Seien was sitting on the edge of the bed, calling him, eyes dark with worry. A tiny lamp was lit, glowing just beyond the curtains.

Tension washed out of him so fast it left him shaking. “Aniue.” Here, with the darkness pressing so close, Ryuuki didn’t want to hold back or bite his lip and bear it all. He kicked away the tangle of his covers and burrowed into his brother’s chest. Seien caught him with a soft, rueful sigh.

“All right, Ryuuki.” The usual, maddening formality dropped from Seien’s voice and he leaned back against the alcove wall and gathered Ryuuki close.

Ryuuki had to blink back wetness from his eyes, shivering a little with relief that Seien would be Seien for him, tonight, and hold him until the fear went away. He crept a little closer, almost into his brother’s lap and sighed as a strong, comforting hand petted his hair. Cold years melted away and left just the two of them, and the warm assurance of his brother’s touch.

“You should have someone stay with you, since she has other work, now,” Seien murmured. “Not those girls you spend time with, either,” he added, in a sharper tone. “Someone you can trust.”

“They did keep my secret,” Ryuuki offered, blushing a little with the pleasure of hearing that protective edge in his brother’s voice.

Seien tapped Ryuuki’s nose with a finger. “If they were interested in helping you, they’d have told you a little more about women and you wouldn’t keep making yourself so foolish in front of Shuurei.”

Ryuuki was blushing for real, now, half with embarrassment and half with sneaking enjoyment of Seien scolding him properly, the way an older brother should. “Oh.” He curled up against his brother’s shoulder, pensive. “I wish it could be you. I wish…” old pain and newer knowledge tangled in his heart and mind and he closed his eyes and whispered. “I wish it could have been you all along; instead of them.”

Seien’s hand on his hair stilled. “Ryuuki?”

Ryuuki looked up at the brilliant, beautiful older brother who had been first and only in his heart for so long. “You would have shown me. It would all have been right, with you.” It would have been safe and right and good, and not a string of masks the way it had been with all the other men and women in his bed.

After a long moment, Seien’s eyes softened and his palm cupped Ryuuki’s cheek, thumb stroking gently over his cheekbone. Ryuuki’s eyes widened.

“Seien-aniue?” Hesitantly, not sure he was reading that softness right, he reached up and touched Seien’s lips with his fingertips. “You… Would you?”

Seien looked down at him for a long breath, eyes dark, before he lifted Ryuuki’s chin and kissed him slowly. “If it’s what you want, Ryuuki,” he murmured against Ryuuki’s mouth.

Ryuuki relaxed against Seien’s chest, lightheaded with the feeling of being held and touched by the one person he knew, knew without a second’s question, he could trust absolutely. His voice shook a little with it. “Please.”

Seien’s arm tightened around him in answer, and his fingers threaded into Ryuuki’s hair, tipping his head back to deepen the kiss. A soft, wanting sound caught in Ryuuki’s throat as he opened his mouth for Seien. It was so good to be sheltered by this strength again. And Seien understood that, the way he understood everything, Ryuuki knew he did, because he held Ryuuki firm and close even as his other hand eased Ryuuki’s robe down his shoulder and Seien’s mouth moved down Ryuuki’s throat and over the bared skin. Heat threaded through him. “Ohhh…”

“Easy,” Seien murmured in his ear. “Ryuuki.”

Ryuuki shivered with the quick cascade of sensation as Seien brushed the robe off his other shoulder and it slid down to tangle softly around his arms, and the coolness of Ryuuki’s hair swept over his bare back in contrast to the warm strength of Seien’s hand sliding up it. “Seien-aniue,” he whispered, his own hands spreading against Seien’s chest.

Having cloth under his hands was starting to be annoying.

He looked up at Seien, pouting a bit just for effect, and tugged on the shirt. “Seien-aniue…”

Seien laughed, low and husky, and the sound was enough to make Ryuuki’s breath go a little faster. “You want to touch?” Seien set Ryuuki back a little and slid out of bed to stand beside it, smiling. Ryuuki’s lips parted soundlessly as sky-bright eyes captured and held him while Seien stripped off his clothes, not really hurrying about it. Ryuuki’s mouth was dry; the tiny quirk of his brother’s lips made his stomach do strange things. He reached out as Seien slid back onto the bed, wanting to follow the sweep of all that sleek, powerful muscle with his fingers. Seien gathered him back up, and this time his kiss turned Ryuuki’s bones to water. Ryuuki was perfectly happy to melt against Seien’s chest, now bare and warm, and let his brother take his mouth, one slow, wet kiss at a time.

“You’re warm,” Seien murmured to him. Ryuuki made an agreeing sound against Seien’s lips and then a more breathless one as Seien’s fingers slid down his back, under the robe still draped off Ryuuki’s arms, and between his cheeks. His brother’s lips curved.

“Oh… Seien-aniue…” Ryuuki let his head fall to Seien’s shoulder, panting softly against his brother’s neck as Seien’s fingers stroked him slow and gentle. It was really going to happen; Seien-aniue was really going to let him be this close.

“Ryuuki?” Seien’s tongue slid over Ryuuki’s ear making him shiver. “We need something…”

It took Ryuuki a few moments to gather his wits enough to point at one of the tiny alcoves behind the bed curtains. “The blue jar.”

Seien’s fingers pressed into him, slick and slow, and his breath turned into gasps; he was glad for the solidity of Seien’s shoulders under his hands, because he needed something to hold onto while his body stretched hot and open. Seien touched him gently until Ryuuki was draped against him, panting.

“Ready?” Seien finally asked, voice low but somehow not soft.

Ryuuki looked up at his brother, flushed, hearing a layer of darkness in his brother’s voice, deeper than he’d ever heard it while they were both children. This was Seien grown and fiercer, stronger—strong enough to hold and shelter even the Emperor, and that thought made his breath catch. Even he could hear the yearning in his voice when he whispered “Yes.”

Seien drew him closer, until Ryuuki was pressed against him, legs spread over his lap. Ryuuki shivered a little as Seien’s hands swept down his back, firm and slow, over his rear and down his thighs, pulling him closer still. It was exactly what he wanted. Seien’s lips moved down Ryuuki’s throat as his hands gripped Ryuuki’s rear and tilted his hips up until Ryuuki laughed and had to clasp his hands behind Seien’s neck to keep from falling backwards. The feeling of Seien’s mouth curving against his skin made heat curl in Ryuuki’s stomach.

“We could just lie down,” he suggested, breathless.

“Mm. I want to hold you, though.” Seien lifted his head to smile at Ryuuki, and Ryuuki softened helplessly in the warmth of it. In his brother’s arms was definitely one of the best possible places to be.

Seien shifted against him and Ryuuki stopped thinking and just felt as Seien pushed into him, slow and hard, hard enough to leave him gasping as his brother slid inside.

“Aniue!”

Seien’s hands moved up his back, strong and gentle, palms stroking and soothing. “All right?”

Ryuuki relaxed into the support of his brother’s hands, moaning. “Oh yes. Aniue…” It was so good to feel Seien this close, so right to be held this gently, this powerfully. Seien rocked against him and Ryuuki let himself go into the heat of his brother moving inside him.

Threads of memory twined themselves around the rush of sensation as Seien took him, so slow and sure: the straight stillness of his brother, standing beside the water; the sudden brilliance of his smile and the quick, warm pleasure, in Ryuuki’s chest, of having that smile shown to him—only to him; the way Seien’s swift, fierce grace with a sword could set Ryuuki trembling; the sweetness of his brother’s hand on his hair as he was folded into the safety of his brother’s arms.

With that last memory, past and present met and ran into each other, and the feeling of Seien’s fingers running through Ryuuki’s hair made him cry out, body drawing taut in his brother’s arms. Another thrust, strong and deep, and pleasure spilled over. Shudders of heat raked through Ryuuki’s body, and the low, rough sound of his brother’s voice, calling his name, made him so breathless with the joy of it all that he had to laugh.

The strength of Seien’s arms, drawing him in tighter, and the force of Seien’s last thrusts, were soothing. He was safe and cared for and held by the one person he knew loved him. He could relax.

For a while they just leaned against each other, breathing deep and slow, and Ryuuki thought he might never stop smiling. When his brother finally laid him back down against the sheets, Seien was smiling too.

“Think you can sleep now?” Seien asked, petting back Ryuuki’s hair.

“Yes.” The bubble of happiness in Ryuuki’s chest made him feel warm and peaceful. He reached up to touch Seien’s cheek. “Will you stay with me?” he begged.

Seien sighed, but he was still smiling as he placed a soft kiss on Ryuuki’s forehead. “Yes. I’ll stay the night.” He settled down beside Ryuuki and tucked him snuggly into the curve of Seien’s body. “Sleep, Ryuuki.”

Ryuuki obediently closed his eyes. “Yes, Aniue.”

Tonight, he was sure, his dreams would be good.

End

Feed Them On Your Dreams

Don’t You Ever Ask Them Why

Seien sat beside the Emperor’s bed, looking down at his father. The man looked pale and sunken, small in the middle of his crisp sheets and soft blankets. “So. You called your fate to you.”

The Emperor’s mouth quirked at one corner. “It looks that way. Or perhaps the gods think it’s your time and I’m just in the way.”

Seien almost flinched, catching it back at the last moment; that was close enough to the way he often thought of himself, just a placeholder, really, to make his stomach twist with the thought that he and his father were more alike than he’d thought. The Emperor vented a short half-laugh, about as much as his body would allow him by now, and closed his eyes.

“You want to know something,” he stated.

Seien’s fingers tightened around each other; it was true enough, he didn’t come here for any other reason.

And that, in a way, was his question.

“Will you tell me, now,” he said, low, looking down at his clasped hands, “why you didn’t pay more attention to your family?”

The Emperor smiled at the ceiling. “You resent me for that.” It wasn’t a question.

Seien’s anger made his voice a growl. “You spent years and years fighting to reunify the country, to break the power of the great clans until imperial law ruled everywhere again.” His control slipped and he slammed a hand against the wall. “And you almost lost it all just because you ignored what was happening in your own inner courts! Why?!”

The Emperor managed a sigh. “I doubt you’ll understand yet, but all right.” His eyes, already detached, turned still more distant. “There was a woman I loved. Strong and beautiful as the sun. She shared my dreams for our country.” He was silent for a long moment, thin fingers tracing over the covers. “She died for them.” The curve of his mouth had become bitter. “I could barely look at any other woman, after that.”

Seien frowned. He could almost understand that, but… “So you couldn’t care for our mothers. What about us? What about your sons?”

Very quietly, his father said, “You weren’t hers.”

Seien stared for a long moment. “And that’s why you let them build factions and scheme and betray and poison the courts, the city, nearly the whole country?” He took a long breath, trying to settle his roiling stomach, and still couldn’t make his last words come out as more than a harsh rasp. “Did you think your kingdom would be a good funeral offering? Was that it?”

“I did say you probably wouldn’t understand,” the Emperor murmured.

Seien made a disgusted sound.

“I think everyone should be allowed one great foolishness in their lives,” his father added, reflectively.

“Not the Emperor!” Seien snapped, utterly incensed that such selfishness had almost destroyed the peace, the world, of Ryuuki and Shuurei.

At that, his father looked at him directly, smile growing. “Well, perhaps you’ll be able to keep your own foolishness out of how you rule, then.”

“I will.” Seien knew it was probably foolish to tempt fate by saying such a thing, but he was determined that it would be true.

The way his father laughed still made him uncomfortable.

“Take the throne with my blessing, then. My son.” The Emperor reached out, and the weight of years and empire poised over Seien’s shoulders pressed him down to his knees to accept it.

And Know They Love You

Seien sat on a stone, under the bare branches of an inner court garden, and drew up his knees to rest his forehead on them. A bit of damp chill struck up from the stone, through the rough cloth of his robes.

The rites were over; the funeral procession was complete. Tomorrow, everyone would call him Emperor. Tonight, he desperately wanted a shred of quiet in which to catch his breath and brace himself.

The rustle of footsteps nearby almost made him whimper.

“Seiran.”

Warm relief washed over him, and he lifted his head. “Shouka-sama.” And then he had to pause, startled. Shouka-sama was barely visible against the tree trunks, in the dusk, all in snug black, rather than mourning.

“There are things you have not been told about how the previous Emperor reigned.” Like his figure, Shouka-sama’s voice nearly disappeared into the breeze through the garden. “I would like to tell you, now that I can.”

Seien was quiet for a moment. Shouka-sama could only have come here dressed like this to let Seiran know, without words, just what tales he wished to tell. To let Seiran deny it, if he wished.

Part of him did wish, but most of him was wary enough to want to know everything; he might need it.

“Tell me.”

“I came to the capital when I was ten, because the Emperor looked on my clan with disfavor, to see if there was any way to save them. That was when I joined the Wolves. A year later I was given my first target: my great-grandmother.”

Seien started, eyes wide and shocked. Even with everything he knew, he had not expected that.

The soft voice wound on through the sounds of rustling branches. “That was the price of my clan’s survival—the life of its true leader. The one person bright and strong enough to challenge the country’s ruler.”

Seien shuddered. Even through his chill sickness, though, ran a thread of hot fury that the Emperor had failed to apply that ruthlessness to his own family. How had he dared become so hard and then fail?

He listened, in the growing darkness, to Shouka-sama’s list of bloody tasks he’d done in the Emperor’s name. Finally it fell silent and Seien unwound from the rock and reached to catch his foster-father’s hands.

“Thank you.” He pressed those hands to his lips, brief and hard. “For doing it. For stopping it.” He looked up, meeting Shouka-sama’s burning eyes. “For telling me.”

“You are the Emperor, now,” Shouka-sama said quietly.

Seien stilled, caught by the things Shouka-sama wasn’t saying—the offer he didn’t quite speak aloud. His foster-father gave him a tiny smile, agreeing that Seiran heard the silence correctly.

“Shouka-sama…” Seiran’s voice shook. If he asked, he would be spared more blood on his hands. Shouka-sama would soak his own in still more, to save him from that.

“You’re family, too,” Shouka-sama told him gently.

Seiran closed his eyes, and let the dark quiet of the evening wrap back around them, letting himself rest in his living father’s protection.

Tomorrow would be time enough to walk back into the light.

End

A/N: The story and section titles are taken from the lyrics of “Teach Your Children”, by Graham Nash.

May It Concern

My Dear Most Honored and Respected Elder Brothers Who Almost Got Me Killed,

I write to you to urge greater caution, in the future, when planning expeditions like the one you sent me on a few years ago. I have recently come into possession of proof that, had the trip been completed, you would have had one less little brother.

And then who would have taken care of Ryuuren, when he bothers to visit?

Shuuei considered his opening and nodded. Guilt and threat in equal measures; his family would appreciate it.

This would likely have been even more speedily true had I attempted to deliver the expedition’s goods while the subject of the transaction was still in the initial circumstances that occasioned the journey.

Shuuei paused again and ran that over in his mind a few times. It seemed sufficiently vague and confusing to be safe—at least, as safe as it ever could be, admitting to having tried to kill the now-heir-apparent. And if it ever did come to the Prince’s attention, well, all Shuuei had to do was point out that it had been done for Ryuuki’s sake, and he probably wouldn’t die.

In short, even I couldn’t have done it. This has, of course, turned out to be a felicitous fact in the end, but I felt you deserved to be in possession of all the facts so that the next clan decision is less potentially catastrophic.

Know that you have, as always, all my regard.

Ran Shuuei

Shuuei stowed the scroll for travel and tied its box firmly. He would give it to the couriers that evening, he thought.

It was always good to let his family know he was still doing well.

End

Turning Storm

Shuuei had been flattered but not hugely surprised, when Shou-taishi came to talk to him about a new assignment. He was, after all, one of the rising stars of the palace military. He worked quite hard to be. He’d expected it to pay off. Now, though, he had to wonder just what Shou-taishi had really been thinking.

So, apparently, did the Prince.

He stood, silent and attentive, watching as Seien-koushi eyed Shou-taishi warily. “I don’t need a personal guard.”

“Just because you can trounce almost anyone with that sword of yours doesn’t mean you don’t need a guard,” the old man told him briskly. “You’re a prince. If you don’t get into any more trouble, you’re going to be the Emperor. You don’t have enough time to always be thinking of your own defense.” He waved at Shuuei, standing beside him. “Ran-shougun is one of the best, himself.”

Shuuei smiled with his best balance of professional and friendly as Seien-koushi’s glance raked over him; no sense fanning the fire Shou-taishi was cheerfully building. Shuuei made a mental note that Shou-taishi seemed to like antagonizing the Prince. He should find out why.

“One of the best, to guard my back?” Seien-koushi asked with a lightness that Shuuei didn’t believe for an instant. “What a nice change.” He and Shou-taishi smiled at each other, just a little too toothily for comfort. The Prince pushed up to his feet and came around his desk, sharp eyes focused now on Shuuei, dismissing Shou-taishi entirely. “Show me.”

“Of course, your Highness,” Shuuei murmured.

As Shuuei followed Seien from the room he thought he caught a faint chuckle from Shou-taishi.

Seien led the way out to one of the small, closed courtyards, glancing around at its emptiness and nodding with satisfaction. “This will do.” He turned, drawing his sword with a smoothness that made Shuuei’s nerves sharpen. “Come.”

Shuuei drew his own sword and did as he was told.

The first few exchanges were cautious, leashed, testing. They were also silent, which might not bode well for an easy working relationship but was more or less what Shuuei had expected. Seien-koushi wasn’t known for social chatter. Those passes were not, however, anywhere near the level Shou-taishi had implied the Prince could reach, so Shuuei pushed a little harder, testing back.

Seien-koushi’s mouth tightened, and he threw the attacks back with no apparent trouble. Shuuei gave the Prince his most charming smile and pushed harder still, pressing Seien back off balance for a moment. Shuuei nodded to himself and paused, prepared to draw back and see whether the Prince wanted another round.

He almost missed the change.

In the instant that Seien wavered, guard starting to fall open, his eyes cleared, blanked. Shuuei didn’t even have time to frown with his puzzlement before he was the one on the defensive, pushed back and back again by the Prince’s attack.

The part of his mind that wasn’t alarmed was impressed. Seien had precision so sharp it could only be called finesse, yet his style was driven by such wild force Shuuei felt like he was being attacked by a flailing berserker. Only much worse, because, of course, the Prince wasn’t flailing at all. Even in his rare practice sessions with Sou-taifu, Shuuei had never felt anything like it. It was nothing like what he had expected from the reserved, courteous Prince that the Court knew.

This time, it was his foot that came down a fraction off, his balance that wavered, and Seien didn’t hesitate. At all. He came in to kill, sword slashing up toward Shuuei’s bared throat. Steel rasped as their swords locked. Shuuei strained to hold his block, a breath from being disarmed. It took him a moment before he could speak.

“Seien-sama,” he murmured, voice low, calling the Prince to come back from wherever he’d gone.

Seien stepped back from him abruptly, eyes shuttered again just as quickly as that.

Shuuei sheathed his sword slowly. His blood was singing with the heat of the fight, and his mind was whirling with speculation.

For years, now, he had thought his initial task for his clan was no longer necessary. The most capable prince of them all was going to take the throne, and Shuuei didn’t need to do anything to insure it. Now… now, he thought perhaps his job wasn’t done yet.

It was, however, good that he had transferred to the military; fewer people would suspect what he was doing, that way.

Seien was still watching him, silent and breathing fast.

Shuuei’s lips quirked. “Shou-taishi was certainly right that you don’t much need anyone else’s sword to guard you from attackers,” he admitted. “But I hope, my prince, that you will allow me to guard you from this.” His gesture took in their match just finished, the blood that had come very close to being spilled.

Seien’s surprise made him look younger for a moment. “You…” and then that cool guard was back up. “Why?”

“Because I’m rather taken with the idea of doing right by my country?” Shuuei offered.

Shuuei didn’t know why his answer had made the Prince’s mouth twist.

Yet.

He’d find out.

“Try again,” Seien told him, voice dry.

Shuuei considered the wild rage that had just come at him behind that sword, and compared it with the ice-slick face Seien showed to the Court. That was not the combination of a man who trusted easily. He was going to have to take another risk, he thought, to reach his task. “Because you are the ruler Ran has always supported,” he answered, quietly. “Because I was sent here for you. Because you need someone who knows your temper to stay your hand.” He spread his hands and waited to see if honesty would move his prince.

After a long, silent moment, Seien inclined his head. “Well. Let us see.”

That was probably as good as he could hope for, for now, and Shuuei smiled ruefully and bowed. “Yes, your Highness.”

He would have to write his brothers and tell them he had found his place after all.

End

The Color of the Phoenix’s Tail – Part Five

Seien sat beside Shou-taishi, listening to the ministers debate, and practiced looking calm.

“… the merchant clans are starting to move their operations, of course the province has petitioned for Imperial aid!”

“Upkeep of towns and roads has always been a local responsibility!”

“Oh, always? What money was it that built the canals, then?”

The two ministers glared at each other, nearly baring their teeth. Seien sighed; some days he felt more like a nursemaid than any kind of ruler, even one in training. Keeping the ministers away from each other’s throats sometimes reminded him quite a lot of trying to keep a five-year-old Shuurei from dunking herself in the fish pond.

Fortunately, he’d found ministers responded fairly well to much the same cajoling that had worked on her.

“Gentlemen,” he said, voice soft, “let us hear all of the reports before we seek any decision.”

The ministers settled back grumpily, letting the poor provincial official reporting to them talk again.

Actually, Seiran thought, Shuurei would probably love it if she could be here. He could just see the sparkle in her eyes as she rolled up her sleeves and waded into the argument. He could see her standing here with her hands on her hips, scolding everyone like a miniature mother about how skimping on money to repair a roof only meant spending more on ruined floors and furniture. For a moment, he had to fight to keep his smile calm. Thirteen years old, and the girl was already wiser than most of the men in this room.

Well, he could at least bring her wisdom here.

“Kei-jirou,” he turned to the representative from Finance before anyone could start arguing again. “Is it possible to project how much repairing these roads would cost in another three years?”

“Three years?” Kei flipped through his papers and named a figure that made the minister who had suggested such a delay turn pale. Seien nodded, flicking a look at the Secretary of Public Works.

“And there would, of course, be the lost revenue to deal with, as trade slows down in that province.” He hid satisfaction behind his smile as Kan started chewing on the end of his brush. The senior minister for State was also looking thoughtful.

“There’s also the cost of cleaning out bandits, after,” the Secretary for the Military put in. “They thrive when travel is difficult, and the provincial Governor would surely call for help with that since,” he cut a glance at the minister most against the whole thing, “that’s his undeniable right.”

Seien relaxed. With a majority of the Secretaries plus the Minister of State, he could carry this. Carry it without the assistance of Shou-taishi, that was, who was leaning back in his chair and not helping at all. He seemed to get some obscure enjoyment out of leaving Seien dangling with his ambiguous and partial authority, letting him piece together consensus on his own. It did, Seien had to admit, make for stronger policies. He had mostly stopped resenting it.

Mostly.

He still thought he’d give almost anything to have a few more thoughtful, competent officials around here, to help him take care of all the children.

As the officials who would be his grumbled themselves into agreement, he made sure to keep smiling soothingly at them, and tried not to wonder if it would help if he offered them sweets as an incentive. It had always worked on Shuurei, and it was one of the only bribes he could currently produce out of his own resources. He stifled a sigh and tried not to glare at Shou.

At this rate, he was going to wind up looking forward to that damned throne.

End

The Color of the Phoenix’s Tail – Part Four

Shuuei

Kouyuu dropped his brush, staring at Shuuei. “You’re what?”

“I’m transferring.” Shuuei leaned back and looked out the window of Kouyuu’s office. “I think I’ll be more suited to the military.”

And Koku-daishougun had caught him practicing with Sou-taifu and pounced on him like a wolf on tasty prey, and he still wasn’t positive that Sou-taifu hadn’t set the whole thing up. But he wasn’t saying that part; it would be bad for his image.

“But you’re about to be promoted!”

“Was I?” Shuuei smiled. Perhaps that explained why he was transferring to such a high starting rank. He’d let Kouyuu find that out on his own, though.

“Well,” Kouyuu sniffed, picking up his brush again, “at least I won’t have to see as much of you.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Shuuei purred, and laughed as Kouyuu glowered at him.

He didn’t want to lose his favorite friend, after all. Where else would he find someone this pure?

Or this much fun to play with?

Ryuuki

“Thank you, Shouka-sama.”

Ryuuki watched with interest; Kouyuu was one of the only people who came to the Archives who was respectful to Shouka or stayed to talk with him. Today, though, he seemed a little distracted.

“I’ll come back for the second set of these,” Kouyuu said quietly, laying a hand on a stack of books.

Ryuuki was bored, and Shuurei wouldn’t be here until much later; today was her afternoon on that job she wouldn’t talk to any of them about. So. “I’ll help with them,” he piped up, coming to take the second stack.

“Oh.” Kouyuu blinked at him. “Ah. Thank you, Ryuuki-koushi.”

“It’s okay. Aniue won’t be out of the Council for hours yet, probably.” Ryuuki hitched up his stack and stretched his legs to match Kouyuu’s strides down the halls. He glanced at the distant look on Kouyuu’s face and decided against asking him what he was brooding over. “Why do you call him ‘Shouka-sama’?” he asked instead.

“He’s Reishin-sama’s older brother,” Kouyuu explained. “Reishin-sama respects him very much.”

“Reishin,” Ryuuki murmured, trying to place the name among the horde of officials he was just starting to keep straight these days.

“Kou Reishin, the Secretary of Civil Affairs.” Kouyuu smiled, the way he did sometimes that made him look a lot younger and nicer than usual. “I came here to serve him.”

Ryuuki cocked his head; he heard something in Kouyuu’s voice. Something that seemed kind of familiar. “Did he save you?”

Kouyuu stopped short, staring. “How… did you… ?”

Ryuuki shrugged. “You sound the way I feel about Seien-aniue. Aniue saved me. I just wondered.”

Now Kouyuu’s eyes were a little strange. “What did he save you from?” he asked slowly.

Ryuuki looked away, shoulders hunching. He didn’t like remembering those years. If he did, then he remembered the dark, and if he remembered the dark he’d have to ask if he could sleep in Aniue’s room tonight… He started at a hand on his shoulder.

“Never mind.” Kouyuu squeezed gently before drawing back to balance his stack of books with both hands. He looked like he understood about bad memories. Ryuuki nodded, relieved, and they walked on quietly.

A few halls later, Kouyuu started to turn left and Ryuuki stopped, startled. “Aren’t we taking these to Finance?”

“Of course.”

Ryuuki pointed right. “Finance is this way.”

Kouyuu flushed and then glowered and then stomped past him and down the right-hand hall. “Why do they keep moving these halls around?!”

Ryuuki couldn’t help laughing, no matter how Kouyuu glared. When he caught his breath he ran after Kouyuu and paid more attention to guiding their turnings.

“So… what should I do if I want to serve Aniue?” he asked, discreetly nudging Kouyuu left.

Kouyuu glanced down at him, expression softening again. “Well, first I suppose you should learn how the courts work, so you can advise him well and do the things he needs done.”

Ryuuki nodded, intent. “And then?”

“Learn the people.”

Ryuuki thought about this as he slipped ahead to open the right door. It made sense. “Can I… ask you about things?” He ducked his head a little, glancing up at Kouyuu; he didn’t want to be a bother and make Kouyuu want to get rid of him like almost everyone else always had. He breathed a sigh of relief as Kouyuu grinned at him, companionably.

“Sure you can.”

Ryuuki grinned back. “Okay.”

“Ask later, though,” Kouyuu added, as he reached for the next door. “The Secretary of Finance is a little short on patience.”

Ryuuki nodded and tiptoed in after Kouyuu, setting himself to watch and learn. For Aniue.

TBC

The Color of the Phoenix’s Tail – Part Three

Shuurei rested her chin in her hands and sighed. Normally, something like the Council record on the table in front of her was her favorite kind of thing to read, telling all about how the officials who ran the country struggled as hard among themselves as any soldiers to reach the best conclusions and policies they could. And, at first, she’d been delighted to come to the palace with her father and play in the Archives. It had been even better when he’d let her help out with sorting the records, and let her read anything she wanted. Now, though…

“Oh, I see!” Ryuuki exclaimed, across the table from her. “So Finance balances all of the other departments, really… “

Now, it was just reminding her that she wouldn’t ever get to use this knowledge. She sighed again.

“Shuurei?” Seiran came to stand beside her, leaving his own scrolls. “Is anything wrong?”

She mustered a smile for him; Seiran always worried so much when she was upset. “No, it’s all right. I was just…” her voice wavered a little, despite everything she could do, “wishing I could be an official and do something good with all this.”

Seiran’s worried look softened into sympathy. “I wish you could, too,” he said, softly. “I think you’d do a better job than most of the officials we have right now.”

“Mm.” She swallowed and managed a slightly better smile. “It would be nice to really belong here.”

Ryuuki, watching them with a small frown, brightened up at that. “Oh, that’s easy. When we grow up, I’ll marry you, Shuurei, and then you can always be here.”

Shuurei picked up one of the books and hit him over the head with it. Gently, of course; she always took good care of her books. “Stupid,” she declared. “If I got married to you I’d be stuck in the inner courts forever and ever and never get to do anything.”

Ryuuki gave her a hangdog look, hands protectively over his head. “It was just an idea.”

She glowered at him, and Seiran laughed. “Well, even if it is a little selfish of me, it’s nice to have you here to help us,” he said. His smile tilted ruefully. “You’re both better at this than I am, still.”

It was Ryuuki’s turn to lean his chin in his hands. “So, we just have to find a way for Shuurei to stay, and then we can both always be here to help you, Aniue.”

Seiran looked happy enough, at the thought, that Shuurei stopped glowering and smiled at Ryuuki again.

She did wonder just a little, though, if staying here was really the right thing to do.

Shuurei stared down at the vegetables she was chopping, not really seeing them.

She felt strange, lately. Restless. Angry over nothing, sometimes. She caught Tou-sama and Seiran looking at her in worried ways. Maybe she just needed something to do—but what? If she cooked any more, all three of the men wouldn’t be enough to eat it all. She could only clean for so long at a time before boredom made her want to scream. And Seiran had insisted on hiring workers to fix the roof, so she couldn’t teach herself to do repairs.

She bit her lip, knife slowing. There was that young woman she’d heard the other day while she was out shopping. The woman had said that her employer, Kochou, really needed to hire more young women. And she’d mentioned the district; it wasn’t too far away.

Shuurei had liked the way that young women had held herself—tall and confident. Maybe if Shuurei had her own work, not just work borrowed from the men, she’d feel like she could walk that way too.

“Right! I’ve decided,” Shuurei told the empty kitchen. “I’m going to get a job of my very own!”

And then maybe they’d at least be able to hire someone to take care of the garden, without letting Seiran use imperial money on it.

She turned her attention properly back to her chopping, humming with the pleasure of having made a decision. She should remember how much that helped, for next time she felt out-of-sorts.

TBC

The Color of the Phoenix’s Tail – Part Two

Shuuei

Shuuei leaned on the rail outside his newly-assigned department and smiled. “So, here we are. Real live officials.”

“And even as an official, I can’t get rid of you,” Kouyuu grumbled. He did not, however, stop leaning back on the rail beside Shuuei.

“Why would you want to get rid of your best friend, the one who’s always ready to help you out?” Shuuei asked, innocently. “Or help you back to where you were trying to go, anyway…”

“Shut up!”

When Kouyuu’s growling and Shuuei’s laughter both subsided, Shuuei added, “Hey. Did you notice the Prince, during the ceremony?”

Kouyuu raised a brow at him. “Which one?”

“Seien, of course,” Shuuei told him, patiently. “The one we’re going to spend most of our lives serving?”

“Supposing nothing else happens to him,” Kouyuu muttered. “What about him?”

“Didn’t it seem odd to you?” Shuuei pressed. “I don’t think he changed expression once, the entire time. Ryuuki-koushi was definitely bored, but Seien…” He trailed off, not sure how to express what had disturbed him.

“So he’s better at ceremonies.” Kouyuu shrugged. “He’s what? Seven years older? It isn’t surprising is it?”

Shuuei braced his elbows on the rail and clasped his hands, staring out over the trees. “It was more than that. He seemed so distant; as though none of it meant anything to him, even though we’ll be the officials serving under him the longest.” Half to himself he murmured, “I wonder what happened while he was in exile.”

“Maybe he was somewhere cold and his face froze that way.” Kouyuu snorted. “What, did you not like having someone not paying attention to you?”

“It just seemed strange,” Shuuei said, lightly. “My brothers say he didn’t used to be like that. So I wondered what happened.”

“Mm.” Kouyuu frowned. “I do remember hearing something—about him disappearing?”

“Completely,” Shuuei confirmed. “My family tried to find him, but there was no trace. He set out and then just vanished.”

Kouyuu waved a hand, dismissing the mystery. “He was probably taken somewhere secret for his own safety. The imperial family is like that. It’s amazing any of them survive.” He tilted his head at Shuuei. “Why are you so interested in him, anyway? You can bet our positions won’t involve him for a good long time.”

Shuuei smiled, a bit crookedly. “Oh, well. I was trained to be his supporter, from the time I was little, you know. And then the clan thought not, but then there was the trouble a few years ago, and here I am after all.” He laughed and stretched upright. “Maybe it’s destiny.”

Kouyuu was suddenly smirking at him. “Oh, so you’re Seien-koushi’s intended, huh? No wonder you’re so interested in him.” The smirk became an outright grin. “Should I get you a red veil to celebrate your next promotion?”

“I wouldn’t laugh if I was you,” Shuuei told him mildly. “Isn’t that Yu-kanri, over there? He probably has another invitation for you.”

Kouyuu’s eyes got a little wild. “Ah, I, I should start work right away!” He strode off, in the opposite direction from his new duties, nearly running.

Shuuei leaned back against the rail, chuckling, as his friend fled.

Kouyuu

Kouyuu dashed down a covered walk. He’d abandoned dignity and started running two courtyards back.

It had been months since the Exams, and they were still after him!

After another two turnings he dared to stop and catch his breath and look around, trying to figure out where he’d ended up.

“Ah, is that Li-kanri?”

Kouyuu panicked and darted through the nearest arch, flinging himself back against the wall, out of sight. He waited, tense, while whichever daughter-laden official was outside shuffled around and finally walked off again making puzzled sounds. Slowly, he let his breath out.

“Who are you?”

Kouyuu jumped at the question and his head snapped around. He was poised to run again before the youth of the voice registered and he managed to relax before he actually sprinted off.

Then his eye took in the quite distinctive gold and silver hair of the two people in the courtyard, and the equally distinctive paired black and white fittings of their swords. Fate, he decided, hated him.

“Seien-koushi, Ryuuki-koushi! I’m very sorry.” He bowed quickly, eyeing the edge of steel Seien-koushi had turned toward him and the way the Prince had pushed his younger brother behind him. A bit cautiously, he added, “I didn’t mean to intrude; please forgive me.”

Rather to his relief, Seien relaxed. “It’s no problem.” He cocked his head at Kouyuu, looking a bit bemused. “Running away from something?”

Kouyuu flushed. “It’s just… invitations,” he muttered. “Daughters.”

“Oh.” The syllable was heavy with sudden understanding. Come to think of it, Kouyuu supposed the Prince probably got at least as many of those as he did.

Ryuuki-koushi tugged on his brother’s sleeve, wide-eyed. “Seien-aniue, are they going to chase me like that, too?” the boy asked, worried.

Seien’s smile softened so quickly that Kouyuu couldn’t help staring. The Prince petted back his brother’s hair. “A little, I’m afraid. I can’t keep them away forever. But don’t worry; I’ll keep you safe.”

Ryuuki nodded, and the shining trust in his face as he looked up at Seien-koushi made Kouyuu’s throat unaccountably tight. He swallowed against it.

And then he had to blink as the young prince turned to him and smiled, bright and generous. “Aniue has trouble with them all the time. You can hide here until they’re gone.”

“That’s… very kind of you, your Highness,” Kouyuu murmured, startled. He hadn’t been prepared for an imperial prince to be so… nice.

“Ah, there you are.”

Kouyuu choked as Shuuei popped up on the other side of the courtyard. How did Shuuei always find him?!

“Ryuuki-koushi, Seien-koushi, I do apologize for the interruption.” Shuuei bowed with infuriating grace and strolled across the court to catch Kouyuu’s hand. “Come along, Kouyuu, Sho-kanri will be annoyed if you’re late again.” With a last, sparkling smile at the elder prince, he towed Kouyuu out.

“Are you sure you’re not just flirting with him?” Kouyuu growled, red-faced.

Shuuei just laughed. “Not yet.”

TBC

The Color of the Phoenix’s Tail – Part One

Being heir seemed to Seien to be one trouble after another, but there were occasional good points.

He looked down at the familiar black sheathe in his hands and smiled crookedly. “Not making a presentation of it this time?” he prodded Shou-taishi.

“Why should we?” the man shot back, “it’s already yours, after all.”

Seien slid Kanshou through his sash without answering; they both knew he’d been stripped of it pretty formally when he was exiled. If Shou didn’t want to remind the Court of that, though, Seien had no real argument. He had turned to go when another thought pulled him up short. “What about Bakuya?”

“What about it?” Shou blinked innocently at Seien’s narrow look. “Your father bestowed it on you and you bestowed it on your brother. Unless he’s dropped it in one of the fish ponds, he still has it.”

Seien barely dignified that with a nod and left to find his brother.

He was accosted on the way, of course; he was seriously considering taking to the roofs to make his way across the palace grounds, lately, except that it would be a lot of trouble in court robes. “Secretary,” he greeted the man, shortly.

Sai trotted along beside him, matching his strides with surprising determination for someone who clearly didn’t see much exercise. “Seien-koushi. I’m so glad I found you, I wanted to tell you: I was dining with some of the undersecretaries just the other night and much talk turned on everyone’s fears that you have no wife or consort.”

What fears? Seien wondered with a bit of exasperation. He’d barely been confirmed as heir, and if he’d had a wife any earlier, they’d all have been afraid about that, too, wouldn’t they? And what made any of them think he could stomach any such thing?

“Now, it would be the easiest thing in the world for me to call my daughter to court, lovely girl…”

“I’m afraid I’m not interested,” he cut the man off briskly. “Good afternoon, Sai-dono.” He took the next turning of the walk, even though it meant a detour. At the next corner he snuck a peek back, hoping Sai wouldn’t be following still. Some of the marriage-minded officials could be very persistent.

Instead he surprised a tight, dark look on Sai’s face that was horribly familiar. It wiped away almost instantly into a smile, but Seien had to swallow in a dry throat.

Sai had looked exactly the way Seien’s brothers had, when he was presented with his swords. He thought about that all the way to the Archives.

Reluctant as he was to give Shou-taishi any more chances for sly amusement at his expense, perhaps he needed advice on this.

When he arrived in the library, though, he had to stop brooding and laugh. Ryuuki and Shuurei had taken over sorting and shelving scrolls, leaving Shouka-sama with, apparently, nothing to do but sit at his ease in the sun and watch them.

Of course, Ryuuki immediately abandoned his task to come catch Seien’s hand and beam up at him. “Aniue, we’re helping out!”

“I see you are.” Seien cast a quick eye over the scrolls, brows lifting just a bit. Those looked like monthly department reports; he’d found quite a few of them on his own desk, recently. Had Shouka taught the children enough to understand how to file these? “Well, I hate to take you away from your job,” he told his brother, “but I wondered if you wanted to come and train with me?” he set one hand on Kanshou’s hilt, and Ryuuki nearly glowed.

“Yes!”

Shuurei looked up at that. “Ryuuki,” she scolded, “you didn’t finish your last scroll, or re-wrap it.” She frowned at Seien. “You shouldn’t encourage him to be careless, Seiran—” She broke off, small teeth catching her lip. “I mean…”

Seien came to lay a hand on her head. “It’s all right. You can still call me Seiran, if you want.”

“And Ryuuki can finish his scroll while I get his sword,” Shouka-sama put in, standing.

“Shouka-sama, we can send one of the pages for it,” Seien protested as his foster-father moved toward the door. It was a rather long way back to the imperial pavilions from here.

Shouka-sama laughed. “Oh, it’s just in the next room.” He smiled at Seien’s expression. “This is the place to keep treasures, after all, and Ryuuki wanted it to stay safe.”

Seien wondered if it was natural to feel so warm, so happy.

He was not in as good a mood, two days later, when Shou-taishi strolled into his office, waving a letter. “So, you want to speak with someone who can tell you about Sai, do you?”

Seien looked up from the pile of past reports from provincial governors that he’d been making his way through on Shouka-sama’s recommendation, and sighed a bit wearily. He felt like he was drowning in politics. “If they can do so clearly and directly, yes.”

Shou had the gall to laugh. “I think Ro can do that.” He waved another older man in. Seien eyed him warily, but this one looked reassuringly solid and no-nonsense. Unlike Shou. Good. “Ro-dono is an undersecretary of Protocol.”

Seien sat back, arrested. Sai’s own assistant was supposed to give him a straightforward story on the man? “Please have a seat, Ro-kanri,” he murmured.

“What was it your Highness wished to know about Protocol?” Ro asked, settling himself as Shou-taishi left again and closed the door behind him.

Seien was too tired to waste the proper time on indirection. “I believe I may have made an enemy, in Sai,” he said, frankly. “I hoped you could tell me just how bad the results are likely to be.”

Ro’s eyes sharpened; in direct contrast his tone was casual. “Would you happen to know the occasion of the Secretary’s animosity?”

Seien snorted. “Well, I assume it was when I told him I had no interest in meeting his daughter.”

Ro looked at him levelly for a long moment. “Refusing out of hand was not, perhaps, the best decision,” he rumbled at last.

Seien blinked. “But no one can honestly think I’m enough of an idiot to duplicate the Emperor’s mistakes with his concubines.” If anything could put a man off women for good, it was watching all of that going on while growing up.

Ro, taking a sip of tea, sputtered into his cup. “You are… very straightforward, Highness.”

Seien leaned back with a sigh. “And I suppose that won’t do. No one in this place can be straightforward, can they?” He looked away, trying not to slump; he would give so much to be able to talk to someone about work and politics without all this interminable dancing around.

“Not often,” Ro answered. Seien looked back, surprising what might have been a hint of sympathy before the man’s expression turned severe again. “So think well, when it comes time to choose your own advisors. They will be the only ones.”

After a moment, Seien nodded; however much he hadn’t wanted to deal with it again, he did know the rules here. “I understand.”

“Very well then. As for the Secretary, what you may expect is efforts behind your back to discredit any work you accomplish; he’s a coward…”

Seien listened and made notes to himself and smiled faintly as Ro-kanri thoroughly violated his own dictum that only personal advisors would speak straightly to the prince.

Seien made a note of that, too.

TBC

Finding Home

It was harder than Seien remembered, trying to pace in court robes. He kicked his over-robe aside one more time and swung his sleeves in frustration. “Can’t we go in yet?”

Sou-shougun watched him in completely unmoved amusement, arms crossed. He looked like he could be one of the pillars that held up the roof. “We’ll enter when the time is right, Seien-koushi.” He raised a dark eyebrow. “You used to know your strategy better than this.”

“If the idea is to have me accepted as easily as possible by the Court, again, why make a production of my return in the first place?” Seien grumbled. He wanted this to be happening faster.

Ryuuki was waiting in there.

Sou-shougun snorted. “Oh, stop being an idiot, boy! You know it has to be seen that your return is accepted and welcomed.” His mouth twisted. “By the Emperor, at any rate.”

That sounded enough like his old teacher that Seien relaxed a little and smiled up at his temporary guard. “And by his advisors?” he asked, lightly.

Sou-shougun’s moment of silence told Seien that his real question had been heard. Sou nodded, slow and firm. “And by us as well.”

That quiet tone drew Seien up straight and he inclined his head with the imperial dignity he’d had no use for in nearly seven years. “Thank you, Sou-taifu.”

And then a bell sounded inside the hall, and it was time.

Seien paced down the hall, between whispering rows of officials and courtiers, eyes fixed only on the Emperor. He knew his foster-father was here somewhere. He knew his brother would be, as well. But if he looked for either of them he didn’t think he’d be able to hold himself together. In this moment, he needed to be only the Prince, for the Court.

He knelt at the foot of the steps, waiting. He paid little attention to the words of pardon and welcome that Shou-taishi declaimed in the “ailing” Emperor’s name, only waiting, enduring, until the last flourish of that old voice told him it was time to rise, to climb the steps, to kneel again at the Emperor’s feet and take his father’s hands, completing this bit of theater.

The gold glint of his father’s eyes was wry, as their gazes met. Seien snorted a little and whispered, “Are you satisfied?”

“Probably only in death,” his father murmured back through still lips. “But this will do for now. Rise. Greet the inheritance you’ve agreed to take, my son.”

Seien’s jaw tightened, but he did stand and turn to face the Court. The roar that greeted Shou-taishi’s gesture of acclaim was distant in his ears; it reminded him of the sound of the riots, a year and a half ago. He knew his face was still as he looked out over them.

And then his gaze crossed the far corner of the dais and caught on a small figure in purple and the wide, wide eyes fixed on him. The world snapped back into focus and Seien smiled. Ryuuki lit up like the sun rising and abandoned ceremony and dashed to fling himself into Seien’s arms.

Arms that were held out for him, and all the watching eyes could just be damned.

Seien caught his brother close, burying a brilliant smile in soft, bright hair. “Ryuuki,” he whispered. “I’m back.”

“Aniue…!” It took a few long, shuddering breaths, but Ryuuki finally lifted his face, eyes wet and shining, to smile breathlessly up at Seien. “Welcome back,” he managed, voice wobbling.

Seien smoothed back Ryuuki’s hair tenderly and kept an arm around him as he turned to face the Court again; he could feel Ryuuki was still shaking.

This time, looking out over the people he had agreed to rule, his eyes were clear.

Seien finally managed to chase out all his new attendants and settle down on the side ledge in his new rooms, laughing, pulling Ryuuki down to sit in the curve of his arm. His brother hadn’t let go of his sleeve once since they’d left the hall. “I’m not going anywhere, Ryuuki. Not this time,” he promised.

“… okay.” Ryuuki’s answer was muffled in his shoulder, and Seien’s smile softened.

“Ryuuki…” He lifted his brother’s chin, looking him over closely, now that he had time. Ryuuki looked better, this year, than Seien had ever seen him, healthier and neater, starting to fill out, eyes bright and interested.

Not often as bright as they were right this moment, admittedly.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to make it back,” Seien said, soberly.

“It’s all right. I knew you’d come back someday.” Absolute trust filled Ryuuki’s voice and wrapped warmth around Seien.

“Yes.”

Ryuuki nodded, happy with this. And then he looked around with a faint frown. “Oh. It’s getting late…” He nibbled his lip and leaned closer to Seien.

Touched by a hint of mischief Seien asked, “So, is it time to go see Shouka-sama, then?”

Ryuuki blinked, but seemed to take it for granted that, of course, his big brother knew everything. “Yeah!” He bounced to his feet and went to the door to peek out before nodding and silently gesturing Seien to come.

Seien was fairly sure they made an amusing sight, two princes, gaudy in purple, tiptoeing through the palace, avoiding their own guards, to go visit the Archivist like a couple of children hoping to steal sweets from the kitchen.

The strangest part was that it was… fun. He hadn’t expected that, when he’d thought about his return.

As soon as the Archive doors closed behind them, Ryuuki went running down the halls, pulling Seien behind him, to burst into the library room. “Shouka, look! Aniue is back!”

Shouka chuckled as he furled a scroll. “Yes, I saw.”

“Aniue? But… Seiran?”

Seien’s head whipped around to stare at the girl sitting at the window table. “Shuurei-chan?” She looked as bewildered as he suddenly felt. What was she doing here?

“Oh yes.” Shouka-sama smiled with perfectly ruthless calm. “Since Shuurei would be alone in the house, now, I thought it would be better for her to visit me more often.” He laid a hand on his daughter’s head and told her, “Our Seiran is also Seien-koushi.”

Shuurei’s eyes got big and she stared at Seien. He winced. Sure enough, it only took a few seconds for Shuurei-chan to start frowning. “You didn’t tell me.” Now she was downright glaring. “Seiran, you didn’t tell me!”

He raised a placating hand. “I’m very sorry, Shuurei-chan, it just…” Hadn’t seemed like a good idea to burden her with, but, knowing Shuurei-chan, he probably shouldn’t say that.

“Aniue.” Ryuuki tugged on the arm he still had possession of. “What do they mean? Seiran?”

Seien pulled in a long breath, trying not to feel harassed, and glowered briefly at his foster-father. “Ryuuki.” He knelt so that they were eye to eye. “Shouka-sama took care of me, while I was sent away from the courts. And,” he turned his head to include Shuurei, “because it was dangerous, the family called me Seiran, so no one would know who I was.”

Ryuuki and Shuurei eyed each other.

Seien sighed and held out his free hand to Shuurei, who hopped down from her chair to come take it. Ryuuki pressed closer against his side, and Seien tightened the arm around him, comfortingly. “Now, you two. Shuurei-chan, this is my younger brother, Ryuuki. Ryuuki, this is Shouka-sama’s daughter, Shuurei.” He smiled hopefully. “So, while Shouka-sama was taking care of Ryuuki, I was taking care of Shuurei.”

Shuurei looked at Ryuuki curiously. “Tou-sama was? I suppose the Emperor, your father, had work he had to do, didn’t he. But… couldn’t your mother?”

Seien felt Ryuuki flinch against him, but before he could decide what to do, Ryuuki looked down at his toes and muttered, “Don’t have a mother.”

“Oh.” Shuurei-chan’s eyes turned dark. She bit her lip and reached out her free hand to take Ryuuki’s. “I’m sorry. I don’t either.”

“Oh.” Ryuuki looked at her, and then at Shouka-sama, and then at Seien, bright eyes clouding with dilemma. “I guess… it’s time to give everyone back to the right family, then.”

Shuurei frowned ferociously for a moment, in thought, and then nodded, triumphant. “We can share!”

Ryuuki stared at her. “Really?”

“Really,” Shuurei stated firmly, and added in her best lecturing tone. “That’s what people do in hard times, just like the relief measures the government has when there’s a famine somewhere.”

Seien chuckled, as the two children smiled at each other, pleased with their pact, and looked up at Shouka-sama to see what he thought of being traded like a bushel of rice.

Shouka-sama wore his most serene smile. “Yes, I think that will work out. Don’t you?”

Seien blushed a little and gathered both the younger ones close. He knew Shouka-sama was tweaking him, gently, over how much he relied on the children’s love, their purity—on the fact that all of this was, in the end, for them because he certainly couldn’t see much else in this filthy world that deserved his sword to guard it.

But perhaps that was all right.

End

Dragon’s Whisker

Seiran was playing catch, in the garden with Shuurei, when a roar went up from the streets nearby. He started to his feet, reaching out to catch Shuurei’s shoulder; he’d heard sounds like that before, from the throats of men charging with weapons in their hands.

“Seiran?” Shuurei’s eyes were wide, and he gathered her closer, tense.

“It’s all right, Shuurei-chan.” He would make it be all right. He had no wish to be the Whirlwind again, but to protect Shuurei…

“Yes, it’s all right.” They both relaxed as Shouka-sama stepped out from under the garden trees to join them. “I barred the gate behind me as I came in.”

“Shouka-sama, what’s happened?” Seiran asked quietly.

His foster-father looked more weary than Seiran ever remembered seeing him. “It’s a riot. Two of the city merchants got a tip from someone in Civil Affairs about a load of barley coming in, and they bought it all up.” His smile was worn. “Reishin is furious, of course, but the Department of the Military refuses to give him any support to repossess the food, and when the people saw what prices were being charged…” He looked toward the noise, which now had smoke starting to rise over it.

“What is Shou-taishi thinking?” Seien burst out. “Even if the Emperor is too ill to deal with this, his councilors aren’t!”

Shouka-sama’s mouth tightened. “I… am not sure what he’s thinking, anymore,” he said, voice low. “I have considered that it might be time to ask him.”

There were screams in the roar of voices, now, and Shuurei flinched from the sound, drawing closer against Seiran, looking up at them both with wide eyes. “Is it…” she had to stop and swallow, “is it really going to be all right?”

Seiran’s arm tightened around her shoulders, and he looked over her head at Shouka-sama. His foster-father’s brows lifted at whatever expression was on Seien’s face. “It will be all right.” Seien said, low and definite. “And when you go to see Shou-taishi, Shouka-sama… please take me with you.”

Seien stood in the shadows, in the snug, dark clothing Shouka-sama had given him for the swift, cautious trip to this office. It was a distastefully familiar kind of clothing, but it served its purpose; Shou-taishi had mostly ignored him as he listened to the two men speak. Seiran had listened, and now he was staring at Shou-taishi with disbelieving eyes.

“It is the Emperor’s command,” the man reiterated, hands folded calmly on his desk.

Shouka-sama sounded just as outraged as Seien felt. “But you must know what’s happening to the people!”

“If the country cannot cleanse itself, better it die.”

The evenness of Shou’s voice, set against the memory of the harsh crowd roar, was too much for Seien, and he stepped into the light. “How can it cleanse itself when no one leads it? When the people with strength won’t use it? How can he demand such an idiotic thing?!”

Shou’s brows lifted. “Shouka, you should teach your people bett—” He broke off, frowning, looking more closely at Seien.

Seien growled and pulled off the muffling scarf he had worn for the trip here. Shou-taishi sat back, slowly, eyes fixed on him.

“Seien-koushi.” A wintry smile was all the welcome he offered. “You’ve gained some awareness of politics, since you’ve been gone, I see.”

Seien slashed a hand down, as if to knock away the comment. It wasn’t politics he recognized, here and now. “I didn’t expect to see bandits in charge of this city, but what else do you call that?” He pointed out the window where fires were starting to glow in the dusk. It looked a whole lot like the work he’d seen from the murderous bastards who’d found him years ago, and now everyone he cared for in this world was in the middle of it. He glowered at Shou. “What do you call yourself for letting it happen?” he whispered.

“I call myself a servant of the Emperor.” Before Seien could snap at this, Shou pushed himself up from the desk, turning to look out the window. “Before sense or mercy or life itself, I am the servant of the Emperor.” He clasped his hands behind his back and snorted. “And just what do you think you can say about this, in any case? A prince exiled for treason, who has broken his exile and returned in secret from the throne and the ministers alike? How can you say you care for this Court?”

The words stung all the more for being indifferent, without malice. And true enough. Seien drew himself up. “I don’t give a damn how many times vipers bite each other,” he answered roughly. “I do care who else will be caught in their thrashing around. And if cutting off the snakes’ heads now will stop them, then I’ll do it.” Seien swallowed both distaste and some cold anticipation. It would not, after all, be the first time.

“Hmm.” Shou-taishi turned his head to glance back at Seien. Seien thought there might have been a shadow of a smile on his face, and he rocked back, wary. “Well, then.” Shou directed a rather sardonic smile at Shouka-sama. “Bring him along and meet me in the Emperor’s rooms.”

Shou-taishi and Shouka-sama knelt by the Emperor’s bedside. Seien did not. He had begun to, twelve years’ habit not worn away by a few years gone from court, but the light in his father’s eyes and the color of his skin had frozen him still.

“You’re not sick,” he whispered.

Shou looked up at him in an interested way, but Seiran hardly noticed. He know what illness and death looked like, now, knew them closely and well; he saw neither in his father’s face.

The Emperor met his eyes for a long moment before turning his head to gaze up at the ceiling. “I am not,” he agreed. “But the courts are.”

“So it’s true.” Seien pulled in a hard breath past his clenched teeth, a hiss of rage. “Why didn’t you just kill them yourself, then, and not set the entire country on fire to burn out a few?!”

“Some clans have tried that, you know,” his father remarked, conversationally. “It didn’t work. It only sets a bad precedent.”

“Well, you could do it now, surely!” Seien spread his hands, half pleading. He had thought to do it himself, after the Emperor’s death, but that was clearly a long way off and there was no more time left. “They’ve given you a reason now, haven’t they?”

“And who,” his father asked, softly, voice completely, dreadfully neutral, “will step into the place left empty, when they are gone?”

Abrupt fear struck through Seien like lightning. Time was entirely run out; he had to make his own move now, and make it blind. He was shaking, mouth dry, eyes fixed on the Emperor’s face. Completely unsure whether he was about to die for his answer, the death he had escaped five years ago, but entirely sure it was better for him to take this cup of poison than leave it for Ryuuki, he whispered, “I will.”

The Emperor looked down to meet his eyes and then, oddly, at Shou-taishi with a tiny, crooked smile. Shou met the Emperor’s eyes for a long breath and finally, slowly, nodded. The Emperor closed his eyes with a sigh.

Shou turned a calculating look on Seien. “Very well. I’ll see to stopping the chaos and putting down the princes. Go with Shouka, Seien-koushi. In a little while we’ll be able to announce your return.”

Seien nodded, silent, rather dizzy with the speed of this reverse. He knelt briefly to his father, fighting not to wobble as he stood again and followed Shouka-sama out.

They were back home, inside the gates, before either of them spoke.

“Are you all right?” Shouka-sama asked gently, resting a hand on Seien’s shoulder.

“I…” Seien swallowed, closing his eyes. “I…”

“Ah.” It was the understanding in Shouka-sama’s voice that broke Seiran down, and he didn’t resist when Shouka-sama tugged him closer—only shuddered, burying his harsh sobs in the black fabric of Shouka-sama’s shoulder.

They stood for a long time, that way, in the dimness under the half-stripped fruit trees.

End

Peaches and Thorns

“Tou-sama, higher! There’s another up there!”

Seiran laughed softly as Shouka-sama helped his daughter stand on his shoulders to reach the last ripe peach in a tree.

“She’s so fearless, that girl!” Shoukun-sama thumped down on the steps beside him, her own basket already full.

“After watching you climb those trees, that shouldn’t be a surprise, Shoukun-sama,” Seiran told her. He couldn’t help the faint edge of scolding in his voice; sometimes Shuurei’s innocent fearlessness truly terrified him, and her parents wouldn’t be there to protect her forever.

Sometimes he wondered how long he would be there.

A cool hand on his cheek made him start. “You’re drifting again,” Shoukun-sama scolded back.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

She sighed. “My little Seiran.” Very quietly she added, “If the palace will be such a cage to you, I will be sad to see you walk back in and pick up your chains again.”

Seiran looked up, helplessly, into deep, beautiful eyes. “I don’t know anymore. I…” he looked away, “it didn’t used to be.” But that had been when he was a silly, bright-eyed child, before he’d been shown what filth humans could be.

Before he’d been shown he was just like them.

And it was so terribly easy, now, to imagine the faces of his elder brothers when he remembered the wet slide of his sword cutting flesh. So easy. What would the glittering poison of the Court be to him now? A cage? Or truly his natural place?

Shoukun-sama sniffed. “Well, perhaps it isn’t cages they keep hunting hawks in, but they aren’t free, all the same.”

Seiran bit his lip. She saw so much, even the things he never wanted anyone to see. “Maybe I’m the kind of hawk they give up on and abandon because it can’t be tamed,” he said, voice low.

“Oh, what nonsense.” She ruffled his hair as he stared at her. “You’re quite tame with us.”

Seiran smiled, shy and rueful; that was true.

“Perhaps I should kidnap that little brother of yours and keep both of you here,” she added, thoughtfully.

His breath caught in flash of such wild wanting it blinded him for a moment. “Shoukun-sama, please don’t tease,” he begged. He didn’t think his heart could stand much of that.

She just looked at him for a long moment, and finally sighed. “So be it. Will you promise me something, then?”

“Anything.”

“So quick to let a woman take advantage of you!” she laughed, but then sobered. “You don’t have to be very tame, you know. But let others help you to protect what is precious.” Her fingers touched his cheek again. “Promise me.”

Seiran opened his mouth to protest and then closed it. She hadn’t said to let anyone else do it for him; just to let some people help. “I promise,” he said softly.

“There’s my Seiran. And here’s your reward.” She pressed a peach into his hand.

Seiran looked down at it and smiled wryly. “Are you secretly the leader of the eight enlightened ones, handing over peaches of immortality?” he asked, and really thought he might only be half joking.

Shoukun-sama laughed softly. “Oh, I’m something much worse than that. But don’t worry; I wouldn’t do such a thing to you.” He looked up, puzzled, but she only shook her head and touched his hair. “It will be all right, Seiran. Just remember your promise.”

He bowed his head under her hand. “I will.”

He would let others help. If they were worthy to protect precious things. If he could trust them with the task.

He didn’t expect to find many of those.

End

A/N: The leader of the Eight Immortals of Chinese legend is often depicted holding one of the peaches of immortality, a standard legendary fixture themselves.

Paper Dust

If Seiran had been the one in charge of guarding the palace, he thought, he’d have had a few words to say to the soldiers who patrolled the place.

He’d been tucked up in the eaves of the Archives all day, having come in over the roofs—the red roofs, for heaven’s sake!—and not a single guard had looked up yet. If this had been the forest, they’d all have been dead without any bandits having to bother coming down out of the trees.

A soft, light voice from the open window below him distracted him from such dark thoughts, and Seiran smiled. Ryuuki sounded happy today.

The Archives were the only place he dared try to catch a glimpse of his brother. Unlike the guards, Ryuuki was alert as any wild animal. It was only here he relaxed a little, in the quiet of Shouka-sama’s little domain.

“Shouka, Shouka, look! I copied the whole thing!” Ryuuki held up a scrap of paper proudly, showing off his careful brushstrokes.

“And a very good job, too.” Shouka-sama leaned over Ryuuki, one hand resting, gentle and light, on Ryuuki’s shoulder. Seiran’s thoughts darkened again as he caught sight of the soft bandage, showing under the neck of Ryuuki’s robes, that Shouka-sama was being careful not to touch. If any of their elder brothers ever passed near while Seien was moving through the palace, he swore they would regret it. Briefly. They would have to be dealt with somehow, and shared blood…

Well, sharing blood meant something different to him, these days.

“Shouka, is this true?”

Seiran blinked, brought back again by the sudden thoughtful edge to his brother’s voice. Ryuuki ran a small finger down one column of characters.

“Do the eight enlightened ones really still live among us and keep watch over the country?”

“That’s what legend tells us.” Shouka smiled down at Ryuuki. “And the temples, too.”

Ryuuki sniffed. “They aren’t doing a very good job, then. Everyone complains, all the time, about how hard it is to run things, and how everyone is making trouble for everyone else.”

“Ah, well.” Shouka-sama leaned back against the windowsill. “The enlightened ones can only help us. They can’t just take over the country; that wouldn’t be right.”

“Why not? I mean, if they’re enlightened.” Ryuuki leaned his chin in his hands, eyes wide and curious. Actually, Seien was rather curious what Shouka-sama would answer, too.

“All our tales of them, from the very beginning, tell us that, enlightened as they are, those eight served the emperor,” Shouka-sama said quietly. “That is their part. It is the emperor’s part to rule and lead. And he can only be one person, in this one place. He can’t take care of more than a handful of people, directly.” Shouka-sama smiled. “I suspect some emperors forget they have more than the people right here to care for.”

Seien flushed hotly, even though he was hidden up in the eaves and Shouka-sama wasn’t even talking to him.

Well… maybe wasn’t talking to him.

“But the enlightened ones, not being rulers, why they can go wherever they need to, to care for the country.”

“Oh.” Ryuuki considered this for a long moment, nibbling on his lip. “Okay. I think I see.”

Seien softened helplessly, touched all over again by his brother’s brightness, his sharp mind and pure heart. He would protect Ryuuki.

And if that meant protecting the whole country, to give Ryuuki and Shuurei a safe place to be, well, he’d do that too.

End

The Wind Cries

“Seiran, do you have a moment?”

Seiran blinked as Shouka-sama appeared silently in the door of his rooms just as Seiran tiptoed past. “Of course.” He wasn’t actually sleepy yet, and followed curiously as Shouka-sama led him to a seat at the antechamber’s small table. Shouka-sama sat down across from him, resting clasped hands against his chin. Seiran waited, watching the master of the house in the flickering candlelight.

“Seiran—” Shouka-sama hesitated, “Seien. Do you know who I am?”

Seien tipped his head, puzzled. “Kou Shouka, eldest of the Kou clan’s main lineage, though the leadership of the clan went to your younger brother,” he recited from years-ago lessons on history and politics.

“Ah.” Shouka-sama seemed to slump a little and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. Seien frowned; clearly there was something more. He cast his mind back, stumbling a little in his thoughts as he tried to set aside the raging chill of the year before this one and look closely at the bright, smooth memories of his years in the palace. The foolish, innocent confidence of them made him wince away a bit, but he could find nothing there to explain the tight line of Shouka-sama’s mouth.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have expected you to be told.” Shouka-sama sighed and straightened. “I am also,” he said quietly, looking down at his laced fingers, “the Black Wolf.”

For a moment Seiran couldn’t place the name, and then he could and started upright, staring. “You… but…!” How was it possible? Shouka-sama moved gracefully, to be sure, but… He was strong, yes, he had lifted Seiran before with no sign of strain, but…!

Surely someone that deadly should show it, the way it showed in his brothers’ eyes, or in Meishou’s smile.

But wouldn’t that be the most deadly of all, a corner of his mind noted, to seem utterly harmless? Was that not, after all, what he and his partner had done, among the Satsujinzoku?

Seien wet his lips and swallowed. The Black Wolf. The Emperor’s assassin. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked, husky.

Shouka-sama stopped looking taut and looked blank instead for a moment. “Oh!” He waved his hands. “No, no, you’re in no danger at all! It’s not like that!”

Seien couldn’t help slumping a bit with relief. He knew he was exceptional with a sword, but the stories of the Black Wolf were… daunting.

Shouka-sama made a slightly exasperated sound and rose to come around the table and lay his hands on Seien’s shoulders. “I didn’t take you in just to have you handy to kill,” he said briskly. “I took you in to care for you as a son of this household.”

Seien’s eyes widened as he stared up at Shouka-sama, struck utterly breathless by that matter-of-fact warmth. “Shouka-sama,” he whispered.

Shouka-sama smiled faintly. “I told you this so that you would understand what it means when I say that the Emperor sent me to find and guard you.” His hands tightened for a moment on Seien’s shoulders. “And when I say that I no longer need his command to do it.”

Wetness in Seiran’s eyes made the candlelight waver even more as he blinked it back. His voice trembled with the intensity of feelings too wild to contain—hope and fear and a rushing warmth he’d never thought he would feel again. “Shouka-sama…”

Shouka-sama’s eyes were dark and sober. “I always knew who you were. And I know, better than you think, what kind of choices are before you. So I’m telling you now: choose your path. Any shadows you see along it,” a small smile, “will be mine.”

Seiran bent his head. “Thank you.” He was dizzy with the strangeness of it all, of being offered protection. And, far more than that, of trusting in the one who offered.

Shouka-sama’s hand rested on his head for a moment. “You should be off to bed, then. Growing children need their sleep, and Shoukun will scold me if I don’t let you get it.”

Seiran laughed, and if it was a little damp neither of them mentioned the fact. “Yes, Shouka-sama. Good night, then.”

“Good night. Seiran.”

Seiran paused and looked back and bobbed a nod before closing the door behind him.

End

The Road Not Taken, Omake

Seien found Kou Shouka out in the pavilion on the pond, and came to stand before him, shoulders straight.

“Seiran,” Shouka-sama greeted him with a smile. “Isn’t it a lovely evening?”

“Yes,” Seien said quietly, “but I have something I have to tell you. I’m afraid…” he looked aside for a moment, “it isn’t as lovely.”

“Ah?” Shouka-sama’s brows rose. “Well, tell me, then.”

Seiran took a long breath. “I haven’t lied to you, but I haven’t told you the truth either. The truth…” another breath, “is that I am Shi Seien, the second Imperial prince.”

“Oh yes.” Shouka-sama nodded agreeably. “I know.”

The evening’s first cricket chirped in the dead silence.

Seien felt like he’d just run into a stone wall—an invisible one. Carefully he repeated, “You know?”

“Of course. But you didn’t seem to want to tell us your name when we found you, and it would have been rude to insist.”

“Rude,” Seien said flatly, staring at Shouka-sama. The man just smiled, and Seien was seized with a sudden suspicion. “Shouka-sama… are you teasing me?”

“Would I do that?”

“Shouka-sama!”

End

The Road Not Taken

Seien sat on the steps, silently, watching the family. The lady was sitting up on a tree branch, laughing brightly down at her daughter’s protests that she wanted up in the tree too. It was good, if a little strange, still, to sit in the sun, warm and safe with nothing to worry about.

Even stranger, truth be told, to watch the sweetness of how this little family acted toward each other. The hand that the lady set on her daughter’s head, as she finally descended and leaned down to laugh with the girl, made Seien flinch, his own hand closing tight. He could remember his brother’s fine, soft hair under his palm.

He remembered very clearly that Ryuuki had been the only one he could touch like that.

Did he dare to see Ryuuki again? To go back, even to visit in secret? It had been almost two years. But… Kou Shouka said that the fighting between his older brothers had gotten even worse, though it hadn’t come to swords yet. Seien’s mouth tilted; none of them but him had ever really favored the sword, anyway.

Did he have any right to go back, when he couldn’t even protect himself, much less Ryuuki, against the weapons their brothers and the concubines did use?

He hugged one knee to his chest, sighing. He probably didn’t. He should probably take the gift of his life and forget what he had been, and dedicate himself to what he still could be. To the people who had saved him. His lips moved silently, shaping the name Shuurei-chan had given him. Seiran. He smiled a little.

Perhaps he should just trust Shouka-sama’s strength to protect Ryuuki, and be only Seiran. There was a certain peace in that thought, a peace that went well with this sunny garden, and these people. Only a few people; the only ones to cup his frostbitten self in their warm hands until he thought maybe his blood was flowing again.

Surely even he could manage to protect that few.

Shuurei-chan’s laugh blended, in his ear, into Ryuuki’s, the bright laugh that only he ever heard. A sweet sound, for his sweet brother, totally at odds with what the Imperial Court had become.

Let alone what it might become soon.

Seien thought of Ryuuki in that court, and his back straightened. No. No! It would just be cowardice to abandon his life now. He had been given power, by the hand of Heaven, and his father. Surely that meant he had a duty to use it!

If he didn’t, who would? He thought of the bandits back in Sa and a corner of his mouth tried to curl up in a snarl.

“Seiran?” A small hand tugged at his sleeve and he looked down to find Shuurei-chan looking up at him with innocent, concerned eyes. He took a long breath and smiled at her, laying a hand on her head.

“Thank you, Shuurei-chan.”

He would protect his brother, and he would protect this girl. He would take this kingdom and guard the precious things it held from the rot inside it.

Shuurei patted his hand comfortingly and offered him a clover from the bunch in her fist. When he took it she nodded, satisfied, and ran back to her mother, who was busy shooing away disturbed bumble bees. Seien tucked it into his tunic and rose to go back inside and find Shouka-sama.

There were plans they needed to make.

End

A/N: Clover is for luck.

May We Be Truly Thankful

Shuuei was on his last round for the night, making sure his imperial charge was in his room, alone, asleep, and not gallivanting off into the night to pick peonies for Shuurei or anything equally foolish, when he spotted the shadow lingering under the trees that shaded the pavilion in summer.

The shadow had silver hair.

Shuuei did his best to sneak up on Seiran and was mildly disappointed when the man didn’t even start at Shuuei’s voice breathing in his ear. “Watching over both of them, are you?”

Seiran didn’t look around. Nor did he show any signs that he’d been up since before dawn, following Shuurei, and had probably just jogged back from Kou Shouka’s residence after seeing her home. “It’s my duty,” he answered, calmly.

Shuuei chuckled. “And here I thought it was mine, at least where the Emperor is concerned.”

“Is it?” Seiran murmured, turning his head at last to regard Shuuei. In the half light his eyes were far less soft than they were by day. They gleamed, sharp and piercing. Shuuei straightened quickly.

“Of course it is.” And why did he sound as though he was acknowledging an order?

“For a son of the Ran clan?” Seiran tipped his head to the side. “It was an unusual involvement in politics, wasn’t it, for you to accept his flower? I suppose joining the military reconciled your bothers to you coming to the capital. At least long enough for you to get your foot in the door.” It was Seiran’s turn to lean against the tree, crossing his arms. “A Ran dancing the dance of the Court. Who could have predicted?” Those gleaming eyes narrowed. “Probably not even Ryuuki.”

The weight of Shuuei’s armor pressed over his shoulders, and it still felt like he was being stripped naked. And not in a pleasant way. His voice was low as he answered. “I did accept his flower, though. And I will serve him.”

Seiran’s smile was fierce, completely at odds with the formal courtesy of his words. “I’m sure you will serve him very well, Ran-shogun.” His steps were absolutely silent as he slipped away through the trees, and Shuuei stood for a long time, looking after him.

When Shuuei got up the next day, he lit an extra stick of incense for his ancestors’ spirits.

“For the fact that Ryuuki is my Emperor, and not Seien,” he murmured. “Deeply thankful. Truly.”

He did rather hope it wasn’t really his grandfather’s voice he heard in the back of his head snorting, It’s your own damn fault for getting involved, boy!

He knew that. And he’d been prepared, really he had. It just seemed prudent to show his gratitude that he was serving a sweet and sometimes silly, though quite intelligent, boy, instead of facing those cool, assessing eyes he’d seen last night.

Really, quite thankful.

End

A/N: Peony is for shyness, and Ryuuki giving it to Shuurei would be as unsuitable as all of his extravagant presents to her are.

Truth and Courage

Shuuei made a note to himself to remember that drink unhinged Kouyuu’s knees as well as his tongue. “Come on,” he murmured to his friend, hitching Kouyuu’s weight up a bit more comfortably. “Just one more crossing.”

“We should go back for the bottle,” Kouyuu declared.

“No, no, not a good idea.” Shuuei caught his arm a little tighter around Kouyuu’s waist, tugging him along.

He was just thankful that Kouyuu was easier to steer when drunk than he was when sober. If his stubbornness had gotten any worse they really wouldn’t have made it back to Kou Reishin’s residence.

He was also thankful that the servants silently opened doors and directed them to Kouyuu’s rooms without waking the master of the house. Considering the unrestraint with which Kouyuu had spoken to both the emperor and Seiran, Shuuei thought it was probably part of his duty as a friend to prevent Kouyuu from saying whatever he might say to his father in this condition.

“We’re home,” he informed Kouyuu as a quietly amused servant closed the bedroom door softly behind them.

“I’m home,” Kouyuu growled, hanging from his shoulder. “You’re just annoying.”

“And I’ll be more annoying tomorrow, when you have a headache,” Shuuei promised, with a smile.

Kouyuu slumped back against the wall, the arm still thrown around Shuuei’s neck taking Shuuei with him. “You tease too much,” he muttered. “Haven’t any of those idiot women ever told you that?” And he pulled Shuuei down to a sloppy, off-center kiss.

Quite startled, Shuuei let him. Of the many possible responses to his teasing, this was one Shuuei had not expected out of Kouyuu. For one thing, if he were going to do this, shouldn’t he have done it months ago? For another, whenever Shuuei teased him or, in fact, anyone nearby with innuendo, Kouyuu blushed. It was charming, really; Shuuei had done it sometimes just to see what pretty shade of red Kouyuu would turn next.

Kouyuu wasn’t blushing now. And if his mouth seemed a little uncertain, the hand at the back of Shuuei’s neck was warm and steady.

Shuuei was still bemused when Kouyuu let him go. “I haven’t noticed any of the ladies are upset by teasing, actually,” he managed.

Kouyuu snorted. “Unperceptive and a tease.” He hauled Shuuei back down.

This time, at least, Shuuei was prepared enough to soften the kiss, to catch Kouyuu’s mouth properly and taste the sake on his lips, one hand curving around the back of Kouyuu’s head. He still wasn’t ready for Kouyuu’s mouth to open under his, and a ribbon of heat curled down his spine. Shuuei wasn’t entirely sure Kouyuu had found truth in the bottom of his bottle, but he’d certainly found courage there. If the bottle was where it had come from, though… “I wonder,” he murmured, resting his temple against Kouyuu’s, “if this is another of those times it’s my duty to restrain your extremes.”

Kouyuu’s fingers tightened sharply in the front of Shuuei’s robes. “Are you saying you were never serious?” he asked very quietly.

Shuuei hesitated; in a normal encounter, this really would be the time for a little teasing and hedging, to make sure no one got their heart broken. But it was Kouyuu pressed up against him, quiet and waiting. He closed his eyes, a tiny smile quirking his lips as he gave in to his friend’s unrelenting directness. “No, I’m not saying that.”

“Then the answer is ‘no’, you idiot.” Kouyuu’s voice was irate, even when this soft. “Honestly, use your brain.”

“What, now? Shouldn’t you be distracting me from that?” Shuuei laughed at Kouyuu’s growl, equilibrium restored by their usual roles. He plucked loose Kouyuu’s hair wrap, letting unruly, moonlight colored hair spill down the back of Kouyuu’s neck, the way it always seemed to want to.

Kouyuu made a lazy sound in his throat, swinging back to mellowness again—really, Shuuei would have to remember the effect sake had on him. “It’s not fair if it’s just mine.” He reached up and undid Shuuei’s hair clasp so delicately Shuuei barely felt it. He was reminded of how many long afternoons he’d spent in the archives, admiring the lightness of Kouyuu’s fingers on a brush. “Mm. Better.”

As Shuuei coaxed Kouyuu away from the wall and over to the bed, attempting not to step on any books along the way, he wondered how Kouyuu’s graceless approval could so easily make him smile for real. That was Kouyuu’s talent, though, wasn’t it? To make things real in a world built of deception and unspoken thoughts. His father had named him well.

Abstract thoughts were blown away on a gasp of breath as Kouyuu sprawled back on the bed and yanked Shuuei along with him. Kouyuu made a small oof.

“You’re heavy for someone who looks so thin.”

“It’s called refined, not thin.” Shuuei’s attempt at a dignified tone unraveled in a shiver as Kouyuu’s open mouth found his neck and Kouyuu’s tongue moved over his skin. “Kouyuu,” he murmured, voice rougher.

Kouyuu relaxed under him with a sudden, open smile. “You do mean it.”

Shuuei had to swallow hard at the unadulterated relief in Kouyuu’s voice. He stroked back Kouyuu’s hair gently. “Yes, I mean it.” He brushed a kiss over Kouyuu’s lips and added, “Honestly.”

“Don’t steal my lines,” Kouyuu instructed him, and Shuuei laughed.

A flush crept over Kouyuu’s face as Shuuei’s hands loosened sashes and ties and found Kouyuu’s skin. Kouyuu’s own hands were rougher, pulling open Shuuei’s robes, creasing the fabric as they clenched every now and then. Shuuei stroked his fingers up the inside of Kouyuu’s thigh just to watch him do it again, and chuckled softly.

“Yes, I thought you were new at this.”

“Oh shut up,” Kouyuu growled, color darkening on his cheekbones, and wound his fingers in Shuuei’s hair to pull him down to a silencing kiss.

The admonition was rather blunted when Shuuei closed his hand around the hard heat between Kouyuu’s legs and Kouyuu moaned openly into his mouth. And that was Kouyuu too—clear and pure in everything he did.

“It’s all right, Kouyuu,” Shuuei whispered, entranced by the flow of response and emotion across Kouyuu’s face. He hesitated a moment and added, against Kouyuu’s ear, “It’s real.”

A breath of a laugh answered him and Kouyuu’s hands slid up his back, pressing him closer. “Yes.”

Shuuei made a low, pleased sound as those hands slid back down, brushing slowly over his ribs, stomach, thighs, and then it was his turn to gasp and laugh as one found it’s way between his legs. No one had ever accused Li Kouyuu of being a slow learner.

As well they shouldn’t. Shuuei rested his forehead on Kouyuu’s shoulder, panting as those deft fingers explored and stroked and teased, and pleasure shivered down his nerves. “Kouyuu…”

“Hm?” Kouyuu sounded rather too amused, Shuuei decided distractedly.

His own hands on Kouyuu’s body faltered, tightened as lapping heat stole away his concentration and left nothing but feeling. Gentle fingers stroked his head and then closed firmly around him. “Kou— Ahh!” Pleasure tightened fiercely all through his body and rushed down to a single point of heat and he arched taut over Kouyuu, pulling him close to hold onto through the hot, wild surge of sensation.

It took him a few moments to recover his breath and remember what he was about and lean up on an elbow to look down at Kouyuu. When he did, he couldn’t help a snort of laughter; Kouyuu looked exceedingly smug. “Pleased with yourself?” he asked.

“Yes.” The smugness didn’t fade in the slightest.

The corners of Shuuei’s mouth curled. “Well then. I think it’s my turn.” He smoothed his hands down Kouyuu’s body, palms sliding over skin, slow and coaxing. Kouyuu unwound under his hands bit by bit until Shuuei almost expected him to start purring. Who would have thought someone so emphatically stand-offish enjoyed being touched so much?

Color crept over Kouyuu’s face as Shuuei’s hands slipped between his thighs, easing them apart. “Shuuei…”

Shuuei pressed soft kisses down the curve of Kouyuu’s neck. “It’s all right,” he murmured. Kouyuu made a noncommittal sound but settled back against the bed with a low sigh as Shuuei’s tongue traced his collar bone.

Shuuei kissed his way down Kouyuu’s body, and Kouyuu stretched under him with such thoughtless sensuality he couldn’t resist nipping gently at the smooth skin of Kouyuu’s stomach just to see whether he’d like it.

Judging from the way he arched up and his fingers tightened on Shuuei’s neck and shoulder, he did.

Shuuei felt half drunk himself on the openness of Kouyuu’s response, the low, rough sounds he made as Shuuei’s open mouth moved down his thigh. Shuuei was almost as breathless as Kouyuu, just watching him. The quick gasp when Shuuei closed his mouth around Kouyuu’s length drew a small, satisfied sound out of the back of his throat.

“Shuuei…” Kouyuu’s fingers stroked over his shoulders and down his arms, seeking and restless. Shuuei let his tongue find its own way over Kouyuu’s smooth, hot skin, watching Kouyuu from under his lashes as Kouyuu’s body relaxed and tautened. The edge of breathless want in Kouyuu’s moans made him shiver, and when Kouyuu finally arched and cried out, long shudders of pleasure raking down his body, Shuuei couldn’t help laughing softly in delighted answer.

He slid back up and settled himself comfortably along Kouyuu’s side, head propped in one hand so he could watch Kouyuu catch his breath and see his eyes when they opened again.

A little to his surprise, those clear, sharp eyes were only a little hazy, and the softness he had expected in them went deeper than he had thought it would. He contemplated that for a moment.

“You aren’t nearly as drunk as all that, are you?” he asked, finally.

The softness vanished in a grumpy glare. “Oh shut up.” Kouyuu rolled onto his side, turning his back as well as one could while lying in bed with someone.

Shuuei laughed and curled himself up against Kouyuu’s back, fitting their bodies snugly together and sliding an arm around Kouyuu’s waist. He took note of the fact that Kouyuu relaxed immediately and his smile gentled. Kouyuu was so prickly in defense of that pure heart of his. It was really rather adorable. Shuuei tucked the thought away to use later, when he wanted to tease Kouyuu.

For now, it was far more pleasant to feel how Kouyuu calmed, tucked in his arms like this. He pressed a kiss to the back of Kouyuu’s neck, still smiling.

His smile lingered in the morning as he left some water and an ice pack beside the snoring Kouyuu and tiptoed out. It lingered right up until the moment he stepped out the doors to find Kou Reishin “casually” enjoying the clean air on the walk outside his son’s rooms. The glint in the Secretary’s eye as he turned to look at Shuuei was enough to make even a warrior pause and swallow a little hard.

“Ran-shougun,” Kou greeted him. “I hear that you brought Kouyuu home last night.” Kou’s fan flicked open, sharp as a knife. “How good it is to know my son has such a solicitous and careful friend.”

Shuuei knew an order when he heard one, no matter how indirectly it might be given, and bowed. “Yes, Kou-shousho.”

Kou smiled, folding his fan gracefully. “Good.”

Next time, Shuuei reflected as he made for the gate as quickly as possible without actually running, it might be his turn to need a drink first.

End

Pollen for Dreams

“If you sent me a flower, what would it be?”

“Majesty.” Seiran said his brother’s title gently, an unspoken scolding, reminding Ryuuki that they shouldn’t speak of these things. His heart still turned over when Ryuuki lifted his head from Seiran’s knee and looked up at him, eyes pleading.

“Let me play pretend? Just for a little bit?” Ryuuki begged, and Seiran’s resistance fell all in a heap.

Really, it was himself he should be scolding, more often than not.

He could, at least, phrase things a little less dangerously, though. “If your brother had grown to rule,” he said softly, “when he sent you a flower I think it would be a daisy.”

Ryuuki’s breath caught and his words were husky. “Yes.” He caught up Seiran’s hand and his lips brushed Seiran’s fingers as he whispered, “If things had gone the way they should. If Seien had become my lord…” One hot tear splashed on the back of Seiran’s hand. “I would have been faithful to you all my life.”

Seiran looked down at Ryuuki’s bowed head and didn’t chide him for his slip. He rested his free hand on his brother’s shaking shoulders, quietly.

After a few gulps, Ryuuki’s voice came out steadier. “It hasn’t been time, yet, for the Emperor to send a flower to Seiran of the guards. But if I did… when I do…” He looked up, lips trembling but curved in a tiny smile. “When I do, will you be horribly embarrassed if it’s lavender?”

The jumble of Seiran’s emotions stopped his voice for a moment: tenderness for the sweet, vulnerable boy his little brother had always been; pleasure that Ryuuki still loved him, and fear for the same reason; shining pride in the mind that retained a ruler’s awareness, even while the man’s heart tugged in another direction. He lifted a hand to stroke Ryuuki’s silky-straight hair back from his damp cheek. “I will always be honored to be held in your heart, my Emperor,” he said softly, and leaned down to press a kiss to his brother’s forehead. After a moment he added, teasing, “Better that than a sunflower, after all.”

Ryuuki burst out laughing, probably at the image of Seiran marching blank-faced through the palace with a large and obtrusive yellow flower proclaiming someone’s love and respect for him. He rose on his knees to throw his arms around Seiran and pressed his cheek into Seiran’s shoulder. “Aniue,” he whispered. And, more softly still, “Seiran.”

Seiran rested a hand on his brother’s head, smiling, and refrained from protesting this time, either.

If he was honest, he would admit he was very happy to be both.

End

A/N: Flowers referenced: Daisy for faithfulness, Lavender for being held in the giver’s heart, Sunflower for admiration and love.

Iron and Stone

For a moment, she thought the catch she felt in the long strands of her hair was just a blowing branch that had snagged; it was a hazard she was familiar with from the last time the fine, light stuff had been this long. She didn’t stop laughing at Miaka’s vigorous imitation of the stray cat she’d just adopted begging for food—just brushed her fingers back through her hair to free it.

She found other fingers under hers.

Yui’s hand raked down and she sprang forward and spun around, stumbling with the violence of her motion. The tall boy behind her, in some other school’s uniform, shook out his fingers.

“Wow, almost got me.” He smirked at her. “You should calm down and take a compliment better.”

Yui could feel her whole body stiffening, her eyes widening the same way her lips pulled back off her teeth. “Compliment?” Her voice was ragged in her throat and in her ears. She could barely feel Miaka’s arm around her shoulders.

The smirk didn’t change. “Yeah, be complimented that a man thinks you’re good looking—”

“Excuse me.”

Before Yui found out what the hot, wobbly feeling in her stomach would become, Tetsuya loomed behind the boy’s shoulder, pulled him around briskly and punched him in the face. Her breath left her explosively as he slammed down onto the pavement. Tetsuya adjusted his shades and moved her from Miaka’s protective embrace to his own. “Why don’t we find a tree to sit under?”

“Sounds good.” Taka didn’t spare a look down at the boy on the ground as he moved past, both hands full of the ices he and Tetsuya had gone to fetch. His mouth curled, though.

Yui managed a shaky breath of a laugh and nodded.

She sat on her bed, drawing her brush through her hair slow and careful. The gentle tugs helped erase the lingering feeling that something greasy was tangled in it. And she’d washed it twice tonight, already.

She sighed, resting the brush in her lap as she fingered the glossy sweep of her hair. There was no reason to still be so upset, was there? Miaka had been with her and Tetsuya had taken care of the boy; pretty definitely. That memory made her lips curve up for a moment.

And Tetsuya had promised her he’d always be there. And that did make her feel better. There was just this tightness lingering in her arms and stomach. She wanted…

She remembered the boy’s smirking face and her hand closed into a hard fist around the handle of her hairbrush. She’d had both hands in fists this afternoon. She stretched her fingers open and closed, looking down at them. Again that careless, self-satisfied face drifted across her mind’s eye and the tightness in Yui’s muscles snapped like a broken tie.

Her brush hit the wall hard enough to dent the plaster. She was on her feet, breathing fast and deep. Her fingers flexed and she could almost feel a throat in them, almost see that mocking smile wiped away.

She wanted to do it herself.

“Yui-chan? Are you all right?” Her mother tapped on her door.

One more breath to slow down. “Yes, Kaa-san, I’m fine. I just dropped something.”

The moment of expressive silence outside her door made her smile, if crookedly.

“All right, then. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Yes, Kaa-san. Thank you.” Yui looked at herself in her mirror as she listened to her mother’s soft footsteps moving back down the hall. The glint of blue in her ear caught her eye and she stared at it, seeing another face now, hearing a smooth, reasonable voice telling her to destroy herself and two worlds to give that voice what he wanted. For a moment, she wavered; was it just more foolish selfishness? But…

“I don’t have to be a god,” she whispered, finally, “to not be a useless little kitten.”

She picked up her brush and wound her hair up off her neck and went to set the table with a firm step.

“Are you sure about this, Yui-chan?”

Yui smiled around her mouthful of hairpins and doubled her braid up out of the way. “I’m sure, Miaka. It’ll be fine.” Miaka’s worried eyes didn’t change and Yui stuck the last pin in a bit haphazardly and reached up to ruffle her friend’s soft bangs. “You have a boyfriend to go meet, silly; what are you hanging around here for still?” The worried eyes turned starry and Yui laughed. “Go on, I’ll be fine.”

She recited those words to herself as she stood in front of the judo club captain, trying not to feel incredibly overdressed in the dark green wool of the school uniform. “…and I realize it’s very irregular to enter a club after the start of the year, especially with no experience, but I would be very grateful if you would allow it, Arima-senpai.”

“Irregular is one way to put it.” Arima-senpai leaned against the cinder-block wall, arms crossed. “Why the switch, Hongou-kun? I can’t believe Mizuro doesn’t want you in the journalism club any more.”

A drop of sweat tricked down from her hairline to her collar and she wondered if she could get away with saying she wanted a cooler uniform. Arima-senpai’s rather rumpled white gi looked really comfortable in the heavy late summer heat.

Of course, the heat wasn’t the real reason she was sweating right now.

Her hands tightened on each other where she had clasped them in front of her. “I…” Only a little husky, she managed, “I want to be able to do this for myself.”

Arima-senpai looked at her for a long moment. “Hm.” Finally he unleaned from the wall and beckoned her out onto one of the mats. “Come here for a second, then. Now, I know you don’t have any training yet, but if I come at you like this, what are you going to do?” He took a long step toward her, suddenly looking a lot taller and larger, one hand reaching for the front of her blouse.

Electric tension crinkled down Yui’s spine and her arm flew across her body, hard and wild, striking his hand aside. Her toes clenched at the rough mat under her socks, and she felt like something had taken a key and wound her up too tight, even as Arima-senpai stepped back again.

“Thought so.” Arima-senpai sighed and ran a hand through his pale hair. “Come over here and sit and calm down, Hongou-san.” He herded her down to a bench against the wall without touching her. Yui blinked up at him. “Now listen.” He sat on his heels in front of her. “What you want isn’t this club. It probably isn’t even a dojo; not yet.”

“But…” She’d screwed up her courage to even try, and now he told her this?

Arima-senpai’s long mouth crooked. “Listen, I said. I don’t want anyone getting hurt in my club. Not you and not any of my other members, and right now you’d hurt anyone who startled you too bad. Or else they’d hurt you, defending themselves. So.” He held up a finger. “What you want to do, Hongou-san, is go and get a tire iron.”

She could have sworn he said something about not hurting anyone. “A tire iron,” she repeated, a shade weakly.

His grin was just a little evil. “Yeah. Get a tire iron and then go find an old tire in an abandoned lot, or something. And hit it with the iron as hard as you can, until you know what it feels like and you aren’t holding back anymore.”

Warmth ran through her muscles as she relaxed all at once. “Oh.” She thought about that and slowly smiled back.

“Better.” He patted her shoulder and stood. “And when you’ve done that for a while, if you still want to learn a form like this, come back then. Miyako-kun would probably like having another girl in the club.”

She stood as well, hands steady again, and bowed. “Thank you, senpai.”

Yui walked slowly down the hall toward the school’s front doors, wondering what to do now.

Besides find out whether Tetsuya had a tire iron she could borrow.

She had already turned in her resignation to Mizuro-senpai, and she’d had to decline enough requests to rethink it that she’d look like a total idiot if she came strolling back now. She really didn’t like looking like an idiot. It was moments like this when she wondered whether Miaka, who never even noticed looking ridiculous, didn’t have a better grip on how to live life.

“Ah, not another one! Aren’t there any sites about this that aren’t in English?”

Yui glanced aside into the computer room, a bit amused. The computer club seemed small this year; only two of her classmates and one third-year girl she didn’t know clustered around one of the tables.

“At least we know our page will be significant; that will get extra points,” the third-year said firmly.

“Doesn’t help us much if we can’t read this stuff to add it to our site,” Onosaka muttered, making a mournful face. Yui had to put a hand over her mouth to muffle a giggle; Onosaka was her most amusing classmate, even when he was grumpy.

The three of them looked up at the sound. “Hongou-san,” Suzukase greeted her, brows lifted a bit.

“Yui-san, just the person!” Onosaka cut him off, eyes gleaming. “You’re good at English, come help us translate this.”

The third-year cuffed him lightly across the back of the head. “Knock it off. Hongou has her own club work to be doing, stop trying to shove yours off on her.” She smiled at Yui. “Just ignore him.”

“I usually do,” Yui murmured, and hesitated. “I… don’t actually have club work today, though. If you did want a little help. I wouldn’t mind.” Wrestling with English would certainly take her mind off things.

The third-year sighed as two pairs of eyes fixed on her with wide, hopeful expressions. “Don’t think this gets you two opportunists out of any work,” she warned. “If we’re not imposing, we’d be very grateful for your time, though, Hongou.”

“Did Mizuro-senpai dismiss the journalism club already today?” Suzukase asked as Onosaka pulled up a chair for Yui.

“I’m… not with the club anymore.” She fixed her attention quickly on the screens in front of them to ward off any questions about why, and blinked. “That’s not English.”

“Hm? Oh!” Suzukase laughed. “No, that one is code.” He bestowed an exasperated look on the blocks of colored text. “Something’s wrong and I can’t tell what; I hope that, if I leave it for a bit, I’ll see the problem when I come back.” He tapped the turquoise case of the next computer. “This one has the site we’re trying to translate.”

Yui leaned back and took it one word at a time until she could put the title together. “Imported National… Cuisine?” Yes, that was what it said; how odd. “Britain and curry.” She looked at them, puzzled. “What are you working on?”

“Food!” Onosaka declared.

“An informative webpage on imported foods that become really popular,” Suzukase expanded, a bit dryly. “Imai-senpai thought of it. We wanted something unusual for our Computer Fair project.”

Fair enough. Yui pulled a piece of paper and a pen toward her. “Let me get down some of the keywords, then, so you can use them to search more.” As she prodded her brain toward the shape of English letters, though, something on the other screen caught her eye. It felt like stepping into a dip in the sidewalk, an unexpected jar. “Suzukase-kun,” she said, slowly. “Are there supposed to be two question marks there?”

Suzukase looked where her pen was pointing and spun back to face the screen of code. “No it isn’t! Line… forty-eight, yes, that’s it!” He banged on the table with a triumphant fist and tapped at they keyboard. “There, and…” the screen blanked and loaded what looked like a regular web page, “yes!” He beamed at her.

“You have a good eye, Hongou.” Imai-senpai rested her chin in her hand. “Did you say you weren’t with journalism any more?”

Yui nodded and had to stop herself from edging back at Imai-senpai’s suddenly shark-like smile.

“Onosaka, Suzukase, you two get back to work while I just show Hongou here a few things about code.”

Well, she had been wondering what she’d do now, Yui reflected as Imai-senpai pulled her around to the third computer at the table.

She hadn’t thought she still needed to be careful what she wished for.

End

Copper and Candlelight

Yui lay with her arms folded behind her head on the rumpled cotton of their quilt, staring up at the high, clear blue of the sky. “I wonder if he was just going crazy.”

Tetsuya pushed himself up on his elbows and slid his shades down to look at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“Seiryuu.” She wriggled her stockinged toes in the cool air. “He really shouldn’t have been able to do what he did, you know. I think that’s why all of us were so… deranged.” She flicked her fingers over the smooth, green paper cover of the book she’d brought to read today. “At least that’s what all the stories about gods say. When someone tries to do something at the wrong place or time it just twists.”

She looked over to see what Tetsuya thought of this theory. He was silent for a long moment, eyes dark and steady on her. Finally he reached up to move their picnic basket out of the way and slid an arm under her shoulders. She smiled and cuddled into the solid warmth of his chest. Tetsu was always warm; it was nice.

“It sure looked like everyone on his side was pretty messed up, yeah,” he murmured. “Tell me about what you’ve been reading?”

“Well, a lot of the stories themselves are in really old language, but I’ve tracked down some very good annotations.” A fact which pleased her. At a time when most of her tests, even in a middle range high school, didn’t make sense to her anymore, it was good to feel that familiar, sure grasp on words and thoughts.

“Who’d have ever thought you’d go into folklore,” Tetsuya chuckled. “So? What do they say?”

“Well, from the very start, with Izanami inviting at the wrong time…”

Tetsuya listened and nodded and twined a long, soft strand of her hair around his fingers. He worried about Yui. Keisuke’s little sister had lived her story and found an ending for it, and now she was walking on into her life. Yui hadn’t been so lucky. He wondered, sometimes, whether this story would ever end, for her.

So he held her close in the spring sunshine and listened to her retelling her story’s beginning and stroked his thumb absently over the smooth, blue stone in her ear.

End

Best Friend

No one gave him as much trouble as the dogs.

Dogs were far too willing to be pleased with humans. To love them as family, as pack, even when humans didn’t reciprocate nearly enough, in D’s opinion.

Dogs were devoted beyond reason, loyal beyond sanity. He feared for them the most, of all the animals he found places for, of all the animals whose wishes he sought to fulfill. Most of the other animals, at least, knew enough to look after themselves. The dogs always thought first of another—even if it meant grief or death or change out of all recognition

And somehow… they never quite managed to grow up, either.

“Leon! It is raining out! Keep your paws off the table until they’re clean!”

“Oh, yeah, sure thing.”

D glared, getting nothing for his trouble but a toothy grin and a desultory tail waved in his direction as Leon took his feet off the table and sprawled out to cross them on the satin arm of the couch instead. D muttered under his breath as he went to get towels. There were times he almost wished Leon hadn’t found a way to stay with him.

No one gave him as much trouble as the dogs.

End

North of the Sun, Over the Moon

The shop door slammed open and a few of the more excitable animals dove under furniture.

“Okay, D, stop right there, no selling anything to anyone!”

D felt that he should have expected this. Orcot had gotten to more than one city ahead of him, and he’d been here in Shinjuku for months. Besides, life had probably been going too smoothly.

He also knew that he should turn a bright smile on the good officer, welcome him cheerfully, offer him tea. Divert him into anger. It had never kept Leon away, contrary human that he was, but it did usually stop his questions. He knew he should do this. He just couldn’t quite seem to get a grip on the smile he needed. It was… too smooth.

He was drawing in a long breath to try again, if only because Orcot’s questions would cause twice as much trouble as before, given his current guest, when Leon’s eyes flicked to Lau.

“Sir, you should probably leave now. You don’t know what this store really sells.”

D winced. The tone was classic—even and calm, exuding a sense that the officer in question was in control of the situation and bystanders should not panic, just do as they were told and everything would be all right. This bystander, though, was unlikely to take that well. “Now, Officer Orcot, I’m sure there’s no need—” he began, stepping forward a bit hastily, attempting to avert unsightly explosions in his front room.

Too late. Lau rose to his full height, managing to look taller than Orcot which D was fairly sure he wasn’t, and Leon was going to hate that wasn’t he? Oh dear…

“Officer, is it? Who are you with? CIA?” Lau’s eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t matter. I am Lau Wu Fei, the manager of this building, and nothing goes on here that I don’t know about and approve.” He took a long, deliberate step toward Orcot, never breaking eye contact. D resisted the urge to rub his forehead. Males. Lau stopped close behind him, hands on his hips, feet apart.

Leon’s eyes narrowed in turn. “If you know what’s really going on here and approve of it, that makes you an accomplice. I’ll be happy to get you taken in, too.”

“No one is taking anyone anywhere,” Lau growled. “This is my building and I will be the only one to say who operates in it.” He edged closer to D.

D sighed, mouth quirking. Wu Fei was one of the most territorial humans he’d ever met. However he might scheme to find reason to throw D out, let anyone else interfere in his building, his business, his tenant, and he went up in flames.

Orcot was looking more territorial than usual himself, fingers flexing as though he wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull D away from Lau. D saw the two of them for one moment as though they belonged here. A deep-chested, thick-furred dog stood in the door, bouncing on stiff legs with the force of his barking, teeth bared to warn away a threat. A great cat stood across from it, burning green eyes glaring down its nose at the interloper, tail lashing.

He shook his head, blinking the odd moment away. Perhaps he’d been working too hard lately; these two certainly did not belong here.

He stepped between the two men, hands out to keep them apart. “Now, now, please. Not in the store.” As their glares transferred to the more familiar target he found his smile again. “Taizu, surely you don’t object to someone doing your work for you? Not that Officer Orcot could, alas, since he only works for the police department of one American city.”

They both pulled up short at that, staring at D before bursting out,

“He’s not—”

“You mean he can’t—”

They stopped and eyed each other. D saw his opening, which was a good thing since he also saw a customer coming toward the open doors. “Yes, exactly, the two of you have so many things in common, really. Why don’t you discuss them? Somewhere else.” He herded them toward the door with cheerful little shooing motions, edging them out just in time.

“Welcome to Count D’s Pet Shop!” he smiled at the customer, turning his back on Orcot and Lau as he closed the door behind them.

Wu Fei stomped down the stairs, muttering, with Orcot right beside him.

“…never tells me what’s going on in my own place…”

“…thinks he always knows what’s going on…”

“…bringing in outsiders…”

“…getting involved with who knows what…”

“And always…”

“…smirking at you.”

Wu Fei stopped on the landing with a sharp look at the American. “You too?”

“Does he ever do anything else?” The officer scrubbed a hand through blond hair and answered himself. “Well, okay, yeah he does. He glares and he gets sad and he fucking sparkles when he wants to get rid of you.” The man glowered at nothing.

Wu Fei snorted; oh, yes, he recognized all of that. For some reason it made him feel a little better that D clearly had practice at driving people insane with a smile. And perhaps, with a little judicious information trading, he could find out more about his most infuriating tenant. “I think we should talk, Orcot.”

Leon leaned back in his chair, looking around the huge office with an experienced eye. If this Lau wasn’t part of the local underworld he’d eat his shoes. Just what he always figured D would eventually get wound up in.

Only… it didn’t sound like D was exactly cooperating with this guy.

“So let me get this straight.” Leon tossed back another swallow of whiskey and held out the glass to Lau for a refill. They were talking about D, after all; he needed it. “You wouldn’t actually care if D was running a brothel as long as he got your approval? You’re just worried about the way it looks?”

Lau leaned against his desk and took a long drink himself. “Look Orcot, it happens. It’s human nature; every light side has a dark side. I just keep things running smoothly, keep them on the acceptable side.” He grimaced. “Slavery isn’t acceptable, and that’s what rumor makes D’s shop sound like. You can’t run that out in the open.”

He wasn’t saying anything about running it in the shadows, Leon noted, scowling.

Lau frowned down at his glass. “That’s just the surface, though. I could probably deal with that if it was all. What D really is… He’s too dangerous. Too much power.”

Leon sat upright, slowly. “What is he?” he asked, textbook casual for a skittish witness.

Lau’s eyes fixed on him, narrow and sardonic. “If you followed him, you know. You have no jurisdiction here, Orcot. You can’t have come because you think you’ll be able to prosecute him for anything.”

Leon examined his glass and didn’t answer. Lau snorted.

“Figured. You followed him because you couldn’t let the magic of him go, right?” He leaned back, ignoring Leon’s sputtering. “He’s a spirit of the land, after all. Of the land all over the world, from what I can tell. His kind either call to you or they kill you.” That hard mouth quirked. “Sometimes both.”

Leon studied Lau, puzzled. The guy didn’t sound angry or scared, he just sounded… weird, Leon decided at last. He sounded weird, and that made perfect sense for someone D was playing with.

Lau eyed him back. “I take it you’re staying, then.”

Leon had just taken a drink and choked.

“Thought so.”

Lau was smirking at him now, nearly fit to match D. The bastard.

“Just try to stay out of the way of business.”

D looked around his tea table and sighed. Lau was watching Orcot with a rather taunting smirk and Orcot was glowering at Lau as though he wanted nothing more in life than to throw the man in a cell. Tetsu was growling under his chair, having already bitten Leon hello, and the cats were watching Lau with approval. It was not turning out to be a quiet afternoon at all. “So, Officer,” he said lightly, refilling teacups, “what brings you to Japan?” He smiled, less brightly than usual; he didn’t want Orcot to explode from sheer spleen, after all. “Surely not just to attempt arresting me for old time’s sake?”

It took Orcot a moment to pull his attention off Lau. “Oh. Oh, yeah, right.” Suddenly he looked uncomfortable. Even… sheepish? “Actually, um. I wanted to return something.”

D’s brows rose as Orcot fished in his jacket. A pair of handcuffs to remember him by, perhaps?

What emerged, though, was a piece of notebook paper, carefully folded.

“Here.” Leon waved it at him, not meeting his eyes. “You left this behind. Thought I should give it back.”

D unfolded the paper slowly. It was a crayon drawing; one he recognized. Chris had made it. “Leon,” he said softly, smoothing the paper with gentle fingers. He tried to clear the huskiness from his throat. “Chris. Is he well?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s fine.” Leon fidgeted.

Lau, who had been watching this byplay with interest, leaned back in his chair. “Orcot. Do you mean you came slamming in here, acting like you were going to arrest everyone in sight, in order to bring D a gift?”

Leon cleared his throat. “Well. Kind of, I guess.”

“Americans have even stranger courting customs than I realized,” Lau muttered.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Orcot snapped. “Oh, wait, never mind. Too late.”

Lau growled back at Orcot and D sighed, massaging his forehead. What on earth was he going to do with them?

Tetsu leaned over the back of his chair, watching the show. “Now can I eat someone?”

“They’re the Count’s pets, T-chan,” Pon-chan told him stoutly. “You can’t eat other pets, that’s the rules.”

“I think I’m going to go lie down for a while,” D muttered, leaving the animals to comment on which human would win their fight and whether humans ever used their teeth.

“…call the CIA if I have to, damn it!”

“I’ll have you deported first…!”

Maybe his father had had a point about getting involved with humans.

End

First Day

D tugged his cuffs straight one more time and examined his hem to make sure no threads were coming loose. One of the cockatoos nibbled on his ear. “Your feathers will get ragged if you preen them any more,” she told him, winding her arms around his shoulders.

He sighed and smiled at her in the mirror. “You’re right, of course. Is everyone ready?”

Laughter rippled through the animals lounging in the front room. “We’re just fine,” the young persian observed. She looked critically at her nails and filed one to a more satisfying point. “It’s you who’s fluffed out about this.”

D admitted wryly that she had a point on more than her claw. The residents of the shop were well used to this. Even the shop itself felt calmer than he did. D was the only one present who was new at this. “Yes, well. I’ll go open, then.” On his own. For the first time.

The youngest cared for the refuge. He knew that. He understood why. The shop went to the one who was freshest and least wearied in their task. He knew all that. It didn’t make him any less nervous to have sole responsibility laid in his hands. Finding homes for the displaced, finding humans fearful enough or rapacious enough to feed them, finding humans calm enough to shelter them… it was a delicate business. Humans were so unreliable, so changeable. He could never tell whether their true nature was to devour like cancer and some of them managed to rise above it, or whether their true nature was to live fiercely in harmony with other beasts and most of them were corrupted somehow. They made no sense. All he could do, when twining their fates with other animals’, was to hope and trust that nature’s balance was stronger than selfish human will. He clasped his hands tightly before pulling them apart and straightening his shoulders.

He took a step toward the door and almost tripped over the sudden press of bodies around him. The animals made amused sounds as they nuzzled and licked him, stroking against him like one of their own until he was thoroughly rumpled and calmer than he’d been all morning. Finally he laughed, brushing his hair back out of his eyes. “All right, all right!”

Their eyes gleamed at him as he shrugged his clothes straight again and stepped forward to open the shop door.

“Welcome to Count D’s Pet Shop.” He stood aside to let his first customer in, serene and smiling, waiting to see what fate these humans would call to themselves.

End

Luscious

“Takeshi, I need you to teach me how to cook!”

Takeshi blinked at Daisuke, chopsticks sticking out of his mouth while he looked back and forth between Daisuke’s determined face and his well-made and well-filled lunch box. “MmmMm?” he said, finally.

Daisuke wilted a little. “You don’t have time, right? You’re so busy cooking for you and your dad, I shouldn’t ask…”

Takeshi swallowed quickly. “No, no! I just meant… well, your mom’s a great cook! Can’t she teach you?”

Daisuke opened his mouth and closed it, trying to figure out some way of explaining that his mother would, invariably, want to know who he wanted to cook for, and she’d raise the roof when she found out. “I’d kind of like to surprise her, too,” he managed at last.

“Oh.” Takeshi shrugged. “Well, sure. Nobody’s using the home ec room after school this term, I think. We can take it over.” He gave Daisuke a toothy grin. “Of course, this means you’ll take over cleaning duty for me for the rest of the year.”

“Ah. Oh. Well, yeah, I guess so,” Daisuke agreed slowly, not seeing any way out.

Sucker, Dark remarked, tolerantly.

Daisuke sighed with rueful agreement.

“Here.”

Satoshi-kun took the small lunch box and opened it. He glanced back up at Daisuke, arching a brow. The gesture conveyed a certain polite disbelief.

“It isn’t from my mom,” Daisuke muttered, answering the unspoken question. “I, um… ” He cleared his throat, cheeks heating. “I made it.”

Satoshi-kun was silent for a moment, and Daisuke tried not to squirm under his level gaze. At last Satoshi-kun looked back down at the food and extracted a piece of tamagoyaki to chew, carefully and without any change of expression Daisuke could see. He watched hopefully anyway.

“It’s good,” Satoshi-kun said.

Daisuke stifled his disappointment and nodded, turning back to his own food.

The next day he brought croquettes.

Tempura, onigiri filled with pickled plums, inarizushi, curry bread (and hadn’t that been a chore to hide from his mother!), ohitashi, Daisuke tried one dish after another on Satoshi-kun. Every one was recieved with that moment of blankness and a calm “It’s good”.

He hadn’t expected enthusiasm, not from Satoshi-kun, but he had been hoping for just a little bit of pleasure.

Was it possible that Satoshi-kun really didn’t care about food at all? Or was Daisuke just not a good enough cook to find something he would like?

The second thought only made it more depressing the morning Daisuke woke to the sounds of his mother moving around downstairs and realized he’d slept too late to sneak down to the kitchen and make anything for that day. When lunch came, he could only offer Satoshi-kun a slightly embarrassed smile and a bag of apples he’d picked up at the morning market on his way to school. “Sorry, Satoshi-kun, I was up kind of late last night… which… you already know, of course…” he trailed off, abashed. He waited for Dark to comment on feeding people who strung them up by the ankle in whip-snares, of all antiquated things, but his companion-self only rolled his eyes and turned over to go back to sleep.

Satoshi-kun tipped his head to the side, as if he wanted to view Daisuke from a different angle. “Niwa. Why are you doing this?”

Daisuke hemmed and hawwed for a moment, but Satoshi-kun didn’t look away and finally he admitted, “Because I wanted to find something you’d enjoy eating.”

Satoshi-kun blinked. “… I have.”

“Well, you like all of it, sure,” Daisuke agreed, earnestly, “but there doesn’t seem to be anything you…” he fished for the right word. “That you savor, at all,” he finished.

Satoshi-kun looked faintly amused, and Daisuke flushed. “I mean, you should eat, sometimes, because you like it,” he said, a bit defensively. “Not because you have to, but just to taste the tastes and enjoy them.”

Satoshi-kun considered this for a long moment. “And that’s why you’ve been bringing me food?”

“Well, yes.” Daisuke sighed. “When I can get past my mother to use the kitchen.”

“Hm.” Satoshi-kun looked thoughtful, and reached down to take an apple. He examined it as if it were a painting by some unknown artist before biting into it, slowly. The apple was consumed in thoughtful silence, and Daisuke waited as Satoshi-kun meticulously licked his fingers clean of dripped juice.

Finally a tiny smile curved Satoshi-kun’s lips. “It’s good,” he said, softly.

Poor schmuck, Dark muttered, sleepily, in the back of his head.

Daisuke smiled, too, just a little triumphant. “Tomorrow I’ll bring manju.”

End

Abiding

“You have to kiss.”

“WHAT?!”

Yuuko-san smiled so evilly that Kimihiro’s heart plummeted; that look could only mean she was serious. “This is a lovers’ gate,” she explained in a tone of immense reason, patting the right-hand pillar of the arch standing alone on the shop lawn. Her eyes gleamed. “You do want to get the mirrored shoes back, don’t you? After all, you were the one who let them escape…”

“How was I supposed to know shoes would run away?!” Kimihiro protested, utterly indignant. A pair of shoes should not jump out of their box, giggling, when one dusted them.

“Mmm, well I suppose I could let them go,” Yuuko mused, tapping a finger against her lips. Despite knowing, knowing, that it was a set-up, Kimihiro looked up hopefully. Yuuko-san smiled cheerily, hands clasped. “I’ll just put it on your tab! Lots and lots more time of Watanuki’s cooking for me!”

Kimihiro slumped as Maru and Moro cheered from the porch. He’d known it.

He mustered up a glare to shoot at the other party involved, though. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” he growled.

Doumeki gave him one of those infuriatingly unconcerned looks and raised an eyebrow.

“Oooh, Doumeki-kun isn’t as excited by the idea as Watanuki is,” Yuuko-san cooed.

“WILL YOU CUT THAT OUT?!” Kimihiro howled. “The whole idea is ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous! And I don’t need you making it any WORSE!” He stood, panting, glaring death at Yuuko-san, who just leaned against the carved arch, watching him with casual interest.

“So, you’re going then?”

Kimihiro growled once more at her knowing smile, before he admited defeat and turned to face Doumeki. “All right, fine, let’s get on with it, then.”

Doumeki stayed right where he’d been since the start of the discussion, looking down at Kimihiro calmly. “Scared?”

Kimihiro vibrated with rage. “OF COURSE I’M NOT SCARED YOU JERK!” He jerked his chin to the side and looked past Doumeki with a disdainful snort. “It’s just that anyone who isn’t a total idiot would have… reservations about this kind of thing.”

He jumped as a hand touched his jaw, and stared, frozen, as Doumeki turned Kimihiro’s head back toward him. Was he going to…? Kimihiro’s breath tried to sprint out of his lungs on a tiny squeak he would never admit to having made.

But no. Doumeki was just standing there with his hand warming Kimihiro’s jaw. Like he was waiting. Disgustingly calm, just like always, just… waiting.

Kimihiro’s thoughts jumbled around inside his head, and one that didn’t usually get loose made it to the surface. Doumeki always waited, like this.

Waited on Kimihiro’s choices.

Which meant he was going to have to…

Kimihiro swallowed, a little light-headed as he felt his throat move against Doumeki’s palm. He clenched and unclenched his hands a few times before he finally managed to step forward. If he hadn’t been staring fixedly at Doumeki, he’d never have seen the tiny nod before Doumeki’s hand firmed on his chin. Kimihiro closed his eyes as Doumeki’s head bent down toward him; he could do this, but he didn’t think he could watch.

In retrospect, that could have been a mistake.

Without his sight to distract him, all he could concentrate on was the feeling of Doumeki’s mouth brushing his, and the fact that his lips were soft and warm.

He also couldn’t see Yuuko coming around behind him to shove them both unceremoniously through the archway. He could hear her laughing perfectly well, though, even over his own squawk as he was shoved further into Doumeki’s arms.

Doumeki didn’t wait for his approval for the second kiss.

In justice, which Kimihiro was, eventually, able to muster, at least in the privacy of his own mind, running with a pack of flying monkeys on one’s heels wasn’t really the best time to wait for anything. And it was possible that Doumeki wouldn’t have done it at all if Kimihiro hadn’t wondered, with what little breath he wasn’t using to run, whether the gate would let them back through without another kiss. But still.

It was… disconcerting to find himself pulled nearly off his feet, against the length of Doumeki’s body, and kissed much more firmly than before, and, in the next instant, to find them both sprawled in the grass of Yuuko-san’s lawn where they’d tumbled through the gate.

“Ow,” he said, eventually. It was mostly a pro forma protest, since Doumeki was still holding him tightly and had broken his fall. He felt the shoes being removed from his fingers and squinted up at Yuuko-san, wondering why she was blurry. Had he hit his head? Doumeki was perfectly clear, though, when he levered himself up on an elbow and looked down at Kimihiro.

It was less clear why he was running his fingers through Kimihiro’s hair, and Kimihiro was opening his mouth to protest, despite the fact that it actually felt rather nice, but he had standards after all, when Doumeki dropped his glasses over his nose and everything came back into focus.

“They came loose,” Doumeki informed him. “You should get contacts for doing things like this.”

Kimihiro swelled with outrage. “Who says you get to tell me what I should do?” He extracted himself from their tangle of limbs and brushed himself off fastidiously. “Ah!” He straightened as another thought struck him, and pointed accusingly at Doumeki. “Especially after you stole my first kiss!”

“Mm. Second too,” Doumeki agreed, straightening his clothing.

“You… you… you…!” Kimihiro couldn’t come up with a name bad enough to call him. “DOUMEKI!”

Actually, that one summed it up pretty well.

He spun around to glare at Yuuko-san, who, sure enough, was grinning. As she opened her mouth, he cut across her hastily. “Ah, we’re done now, right? So you’ll be wanting some sake, right? I’ll just go get you some.”

Anything to keep her mouth busy with something besides teasing him.

Her laughter and Mokona’s enthusiastic approval trailed him into the house and Kimihiro sighed as he fetched down the sake bottle. He decided to bring out four cups, today. If he was really lucky a little sake would take away both the feeling of Doumeki’s mouth on his and the memory of calm, unquestioning eyes watching, waiting for his choice.

He didn’t think he could get rid of the memory of making the choice that Doumeki abided by, but he could certainly try.

A person had to keep some standards, after all.

End

Compression

Al wound his arms around his knees and rested his chin on them, looking down at the book open in the grass at his feet. His eye traced one more time over the sketch on the right-hand page. It was an ink sketch, brown with age, but he could see it in his mind’s eye, vibrant and glowing like a prism made of blood.

He dreamed of the color, sometimes, nights when he woke up sweating and threw open the window just to look up at the sky and know the whole world wasn’t red.

The grass rustled behind him and he heard his teacher’s familiar sigh.

“Al…”

He nudged the book with a toe. “It isn’t really what they say it is, is it?” he murmured.

“That depends on what they say it is.”

He smiled at her dry tone. The thought wouldn’t leave him alone, though, and he tightened his arms around his knees. “It doesn’t bypass equivalent exchange at all,” he stated. “It just makes someone else pay the price.”

Her hand rested on his shoulder, her shadow sliding over the open book as she leaned down. “Yes.”

Al’s hands tightened on his own arms until his knuckles were white, and he kicked the book shut. “All of this…” he swallowed and rasped “all of that, all for a battery!”

After a long moment of silence his teacher answered, “Yes.”

Al put his head down on his knees and shuddered. He might not remember anything but the red, but he could imagine. He could imagine five years, and soldiers at war, and cities in rebellion, and traveling with a jar of hope packed into the suitcase next to a bottle of madness, because they needed both just to go on. He could imagine his brother stumping down an endless road, stubborn as the sun, on a metal leg, swinging a metal arm.

He didn’t have to imagine his brother gone.

Her hand tightened on his shoulder. “Come on,” she said quietly. “Dinner’s ready.”

Al made a protesting sound. She expected him to eat right now?

She shook him briskly upright. “What is the first step of alchemy?”

Al sighed and gave her answer, instead of the book answer. “Acceptance.”

“I don’t know whether I can teach you to accept life, this time,” she told him, “but I can certainly make you accept stew.”

Al snorted. That was Sensei’s philosophy, all right.

More gently she added, “Attend to the moment, Alphonse. This moment is for dinner, not for regret.”

Al looked up at her with a rueful sigh, even as a corner of his mouth tugged up. It really wasn’t fair for one person to be right so often. “Yes, Sensei.” He stood and followed her obediently inside, dropping the book on the hall table as he passed. He’d get back to it later.

Because, whether Sensei approved or not, the one thing he was never going to accept was that his brother was gone for good.

Never.

End

Closed Circuit

One

Al smelled pine as he drifted out of sleep.

That was right. He and Nii-san were home. They’d come home to… had they…?

Jolted abruptly awake he sat up all in a rush and then had to stop and try not to be dizzy. Nothing was right. There was too much light and strange shadows, and under the scent of rain was the smell of something scorched. Old ash. He stared around him blindly, trying to make sense of what he saw. Dark walls around, but only sky above him. Wet grass under his hands.

“Nii-san…?” he whispered, and then shivered hard. “Nii-san?!”

“Al…?” A soft thump behind him made him spin around, coming up onto his knees. Winry stood on the other side of a crumbled wall, with a basket of flowers spilled at her feet, staring at him.

Only… it was wrong. Winry was too big.

“Al!” Winry-he-thought-probably sprang over the wall and rushed to throw her arms around him and he yelped, a bit stifled, as he was squashed against her. “Al! Al, you’re back! Oh, Al!”

“We got back last night,” he managed. “I’m really sorry we didn’t come see you, but Nii-san wanted to start right away, and…” he trailed off, bewildered. “Is Nii-san with… Are you really…” He pushed away from her and looked around at what he was starting to recognize as the burned shell of his home. A cold, cold thread of terror wound through him. “What happened?”

Winry sat back and really looked at him, and frowned. “Al,” she said, slowly, “you’re… How…” Al thought maybe he could see the same cold feeling in her eyes, too. She shook her head and took a breath. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Her expression was determined, and he took some comfort from the familiarity of that. “Nii-san and I got home from studying with Sensei,” he whispered. “We were going to… bring Kaa-san back.” His voice slowed as he looked around again at the burned house and the weirdly grown-up Winry. “Winry,” he asked, careful and distant, “what happened?”

Winry closed her eyes for a long moment and took another breath. “Okay.” She looked at him again. “It’s okay, Al. I think I know what happened. I’ll tell you everything. It’s going to take a while though. All right?”

“Where’s Nii-san?” He tried to keep his voice from shaking.

“I think he’s still in Central City.” Winry ran a hand through her long hair. “That’s part of the taking-awhile part.”

Al swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay. Tell me.”

He listened while she talked and the sun rose, listened hard, tucking it all away in his head. And when she was done he was silent for a long time.

“Al?” she said at last, hesitant.

“At least I’m back.” He looked up at her with a small smile. “That’s the important part. I can make more memories; as long as I’m here.”

He had to admit, though, it was extremely embarrassing when Winry grabbed him to hug again. She squished a lot more than she used to.

Two

Pinako-baachan took one look at him and pulled out a large bottle of beer to thump down on the table in front of her. Then she sent Winry to the station with a message to Central, care of as many different people as they both thought might know where Nii-san was, and sat Al down and filled in more details for him. She stared into the speckled brown glass of the bottle all the time she talked about his father. That was one part Al deeply regretted not remembering. Or experiencing. Or whatever. He and Nii-san were going to have to come up with whole new equations to talk about what had happened to him and probably some new technical vocabulary too. The thought steadied him, and he smiled.

When a pretty young woman called Rose arrived, a week later, she brought a baby, a badly injured and wild looking boy, a story, and all of Nii-san’s notes. Al listened to the story, and took the notes, and then went up to the room he’d been given, closing the door silently behind him.

He didn’t come out for a while.

Three

Al traveled to Central City that winter, to meet some more people for the first time again. A man named Mustang received Al from a bed and held very still while they spoke, wincing whenever he had to move his head. In a low voice, he told Al many more details about the lost years with his brother. Another man, named Hughes, insisted that Al stay with him and his wife and daughter, and sprawled over his couch when he talked, and told Al many more details about the first man. Al listened politely, and asked questions softly, and didn’t break until the little girl called him nii-san. Hughes’ wife drove everyone else out of the room and held him quietly until he stopped crying. He managed a small smile just for her, when they saw him off again at the station.

It took another season before he could smile without having to think about it.

Four

Al was reading through Nii-san’s notes again. He almost knew them by heart, now, even the terrifying part about Al being consumed by the Gate, and the strange, sketchy part, clearly written in a hurry, about passing through the Gate. That was at the very end of the stack of notebooks and loose paper, and Al always slowed down when he got to it.

This time he stopped completely and ran his fingertip over the hasty curves and slashes of his brother’s shorthand where it read “gt = psg”. The note for “passage” was underlined twice.

Al sat, staring at the second bed in the room. He had ignored all hints that it might be removed.

Whatever the passage was, it wasn’t only one-way. He was living proof of that. And what Nii-san had done once, perhaps he had done again. The Gate. He had to find out more about the Gate.

He had to find a way to open it.

Al’s mouth firmed into a line that would have been very familiar to anyone used to dealing with his brother. He restacked the notes and walked down the stairs with a steady tread.

“Pinako-obaasan.”

Winry and her grandmother and Rose all turned to look at him. Al took a long breath.

“Would it be all right if I asked Sensei to visit for a little while? There’s something I want to ask her.”

End

Washed Dry

Tezuka had been in a demanding mood, lately, Shuusuke observed. The results were fairly entertaining, at least for those strong enough to actually keep up with the suddenly increased pace of the garrison’s training. He had to wonder, though, who they were going to be taking the field against after the rains were over; it had to be someone with a powerful force, to drive this sort of effort.

Tezuka didn’t answer questions like that, of course, not directly. He would only confirm them, silently, if Shuusuke guessed right. So, for now, Shuusuke simply wiped dripping sweat away briskly and looked around for someone still on his feet to practice with.

His eyes lit on Echizen, leaning on a fence catching his breath quietly. Echizen’s head had a sardonic tilt as he watched the histrionics of some of the other young samurai, declaring that they were about to die of exhaustion. Shuusuke chuckled to himself; he had to agree, no one who could still complain that loudly was anywhere near death. He collected a pair of wood swords and tapped Echizen on the shoulder with one. “Care for a match?”

Shuusuke saw Tezuka’s head come up from the corner of his eye and threw a small, quick smile over his shoulder. It wasn’t fair, his glance said, for Tezuka to have all the fun.

The sword left his hand, and when he looked back around Echizen was grinning.

Shuusuke felt a touch of excitement flicker along his nerves as they moved out into the open, feet scuffing up tiny puffs of dust to mark where they set themselves. Echizen was good. Not good enough to make Shuusuke lose, but perhaps…

The thought suspended itself as Echizen drove in and every movement sharpened its edges in Shuusuke’s eyes. He turned one blow and slid inside another but Echizen was already gone, turning too, and Shuusuke barely recognized the abruptly tightening angle of his side stroke in time to stop it. Echizen’s grin was a notch wider as they drew apart. Shuusuke’s own smile sharpened for an instant. Well, if Echizen was so confident he could break through…

Shuusuke gave him a clean opening and was hard put not to laugh when Echizen took it instantly. A smooth shift back drew Echizen in and sent him on past, all the driving power of his thrust no longer directed at Shuusuke. Echizen whipped back around, eyes narrowed, and Shuusuke smiled at him. Echizen’s glare lit with answering ferocity and Shuusuke had to take a slow breath for focus and control as Echizen’s passion tugged at him. This was what a good fight should be like.

Another opening, and another, and another. Echizen came after every one with fire in his eyes, and Shuusuke was aware of the watchers starting to murmur. They probably thought it was just Echizen’s stubbornness, he reflected. But he could feel it—the tiny changes every time their swords met, the constant pressure of Echizen seeking the weakness in Shuusuke’s defense. Thrill sang through him, kept him offering those openings just to see the beauty of Echizen’s straight, driving lines, just to feel that rare danger.

And finally there was one more tiny shift that didn’t seem to call for any alteration in Shuusuke’s stance… but Echizen’s sword flashed over his own and kissed his ribs. They broke apart, both panting for breath, and satisfaction barely touched Echizen’s face before that ferocious, driving focus consumed it again.

“You don’t have to give me chances any more, Fuji-dono,” he prodded, and Shuusuke chuckled.

“Well, then.” They came together again, hard and fast.

It wouldn’t happen yet, no matter how much Tezuka had set Echizen on his mettle, but the possibility of losing breathed through every contact of their swords and danced chill down Shuusuke’s nerves. So much so that he didn’t recognize the real chill air stirring around them until sudden, drenching rain swept down. Shouts and clatters rose around the practice ground as men grabbed up weapons and made for cover.

Shuusuke and Echizen stood, unmoving in the sheeting gray wet, eyes fixed on each other.

A single flash of lightning showed another figure, as unmoving as either of them, standing by the fence with folded arms. Shuusuke smiled as thunder shivered through the rush of rain; Tezuka would not stop them.

Their feet slid in the wet dirt as they closed, this time, but the angles of motion were as tight and brilliant as ever in Shuusuke’s sight. It was exhilarating. It was beautiful. It was…

…interrupted by a dripping messenger skidding to a halt at Tezuka’s side. “Taishou! Sumire-gozen is asking for Echizen.”

Shuusuke thought he might just have caught a flash of calculation in Tezuka’s eyes before he nodded. “Echizen! Go dry off and attend on Sumire-gozen.”

Echizen lowered his sword and gave Tezuka such a look of betrayal that Shuusuke could barely stifle his laugh. Echizen glared at him for a long, fulminating moment before stumping off through the rain muttering. Tezuka’s glance after him narrowed with a moment of satisfaction. Shuusuke shook his head; always the leader, Tezuka was.

His thoughts felt slick. Fast and flashing. Shuusuke watched Tezuka dismissing the messenger and the lingering samurai and waited for the world to slow, the distance to recede and bring him back to everyday.

Before it quite had, he heard Tezuka’s footsteps behind him.

“Why did you toy with him like that?” his friend asked, quietly. “Echizen is not a light opponent. Why didn’t you fight to win?”

Shuusuke lifted a hand and let the drops of rain patter against open his palm. “It’s thrilling to see something so close to perfection; to draw it out fully. That’s all I wanted.” He cast a rueful smile over his shoulder, suspecting Tezuka wouldn’t like that. Still, considering what he was positive had happened between Tezuka and Echizen recently… “Would you have done it differently?” he challenged lightly.

The faintly troubled question in Tezuka’s face washed away. “Victory is our duty,” he stated inflexibly. “And it should be our only calling.” A shadow of weariness touched his eyes. “This is why you’re not an officer, Fuji.”

Shuusuke bent his head. “I know.” He sighed softly. He still thought he was right about why Tezuka was so taken with Echizen, that he was drawn by the same fascination that engaged Shuusuke. But… perhaps there was also more, for Tezuka.

The warmth of Tezuka’s hand on his shoulder was shocking, and he realized he’d cooled down too much, standing in the rain. So he didn’t protest when Tezuka beckoned him to come along and they passed through a handful of courts and walks to arrive at Tezuka’s house. Ayame met them at the entry to welcome her husband home and covered a soft laugh to see how drenched they were. When they emerged from the inner rooms, dry and decently clothed again, she looked up from heating sake with a smile. “Will you eat with us, Shuusuke-dono? It’s been too long since you visited.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Shuusuke murmured, an answering smile curving his lips at how Tezuka’s hand lingered on Ayame’s as he took a cup from her, and the way their eyes warmed as they met.

“It isn’t an imposition at all,” Ayame declaimed more firmly than mere manners required, turning back to her guest. “Your company would be a favor.”

So Shuusuke let himself stay and be enfolded in the serenity of Tezuka’s household. The irony of that serenity always appealed to him. He knew perfectly well Ayame controlled the house with an iron hand to match her husband’s, for all her gentle charm. The contrast had entertained him for as long as he’d known them. The genuine warmth between husband and wife plucked at him, though, the moreso for how subtle it was; they fit each other so well, and it was in an effort to turn his mind aside from those thoughts that he asked, “Was it like that for you, when you fought Echizen?”

Tezuka’s brow quirked. “So you did know about it, then.”

“Mm.” Shuusuke took another sip. “It was fairly obvious. To me, at least.”

Tezuka looked out at the rain that was still falling. “Echizen needs true challenges.”

“You seem to have given him one,” Shuusuke observed. Echizen had certainly been more focused today than had been usual in the past.

“I gave him a beginning.” Tezuka’s eyes were distant. “We will see. Even someone who finds his way doesn’t always go down it.”

When Shuusuke left, this time covered by a straw raincoat at Ayame’s insistence, he headed straight down into the town. Only occasional lamps lit a bit of darkness with silvery flickers of rain, but he took a path his feet knew without any direction from his eyes. He smiled gently at the girl who met him at the door.

“Will Yumiko see me?”

He waited in the room she showed him to, gazing silently past the slats of the window. It was sooner than he expected when the door whispered open and closed.

“Shuusuke!”

He looked up and smiled ruefully. Yumiko was dressed for the evening, kimono falling around her like a story told in silk, hair as light as his own folded sleekly up and held by bright combs. “Did I call you away from someone?”

She dropped down beside him in a rustle of fabric, tossing her sleeves back to hold out her hands to him. “It was a large party. Chiharu will look after them, and they won’t miss me.”

Shuusuke caught her fingers in his. “I don’t believe it,” he teased. “No one could possibly not miss you.”

She tipped her head and gave him a long, clear-eyed look. “Shuusuke. What happened today?”

His smile relaxed into a laugh. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

“Not a thing.” She tipped her head thoughtfully for a moment and then drew his hands to her and placed them on the elaborate knot of her obi, smile turning playful. “It’s only fair.”

Sometimes Yumiko knew him better than he knew himself. Shuusuke let his troublesome thoughts fall away for a while, and it was much later, with the softness of her hair lying over his bare shoulder, that he answered the question she had asked.

“I think Tezuka wants me to be an officer,” he said quietly, watching the shadows move over the ceiling. “And I would work toward that if—” Her fingers covered his lips.

“Only an officer is likely to receive enough land to afford my contract,” she agreed. “And such a highly placed samurai should not have a courtesan who doesn’t know who her father might be for a wife.”

Shuusuke sighed. He hadn’t really thought her answer would change, but… “I will take you out of this place, Yumiko,” he said, low and serious.

She leaned up on one arm, looking down at him as gold lamplight slid over her skin and the depth of her eyes, only a shade darker than his but so much more beautiful. “Someday,” she said, at last. “Yes. You will.”

Shuusuke smiled, small and true, and drew her back down against him and closed his eyes.

End

Hold

“Echizen. Come with me.”

Ryouma blinked at that casual summons, but waved to Kachiro and followed along behind the General calmly enough. Everyone said he’d done well against Kaga and he was reasonably sure he wasn’t in trouble. Whatever reason Tezuka-dono had to come fetch him just as Ryouma’s work shift ended, it probably wouldn’t be any worse than boring.

He thought twice about not being in trouble when they came out into the practice grounds. Tezuka-dono’s ideas about keeping order ran heavily to extra training. With weights. For hours. Not that it was any difficulty to him, but it did take up a lot of time, and it was near sunset already. Ryouma glanced around and saw no one else working in the soft, slanting light. They were probably all eating. Was he going to miss dinner completely because of whatever this was?

Then the General turned to face him across the practice ground and loosened his sword, and a spark of excitement brushed aside those thoughts. Ryouma could feel his pulse speeding up as the General drew and nodded for him to do likewise. Tezuka-dono had ignored all his previous hints, but now it looked like he was finally going to get a match against the warrior who was supposed to be strongest, out of all Uesugi’s forces.

“Come,” Tezuka-dono told him without any preamble, light sliding down his edge as he beckoned.

Ryouma smirked, and cheerfully did as he was told.

He expected his first slash to be caught. He did not expect it to be turned easily aside, as if he’d attacked at completely the wrong angle. He backed up again, fast, eyes wide, knowing he’d been open.

Tezuka-dono’s expression was no longer even. Still and steady, it burned. “Come.”

Ryouma’s eyes narrowed, and he did.

Blow after blow, no matter how he came in, every one was caught, turned, the force muffled and spent for nothing. Ryouma’s focus narrowed, and narrowed again, searching for the key, the pattern in Tezuka-dono’s movements that he could match. He could almost see it; he could catch parts, but something was escaping him no matter how far he reached for it.

In the end it was his own pattern that broke first. One step lunging just too far beyond his balance, and Tezuka-dono’s foot brushed his aside, and Ryouma stumbled to his knees. Training and determination brought his sword in, ready to cut upwards, and…

Ryouma knelt where he was, staring up at the General. He could feel the deadly thin line of Tezuka-dono’s sword against his throat. It didn’t move when the General spoke.

“Why do you fight, Echizen?”

“To win… against my father,” Ryouma managed.

“Your father isn’t here.”

No, he wasn’t, though there’d been a few times in this fight when Ryouma would have sworn he was. Except that Tezuka-dono was nothing the same. Except that Ryouma had… lost… he never lost, except to… but Tezuka-dono wasn’t… Ryouma’s thoughts tangled, and he couldn’t answer.

The edge of the sword flicked away. Instead, the General’s unmoving gaze pinned Ryouma where he was. “You are part of Uesugi. Find your place in support of this clan.”

His place? Support? What did that have to do with his father? Ryouma got slowly to his feet as the General stepped back. He felt rather unsteady on them; he hadn’t lost to anyone but his father in years. Now there was… another bar. There was a challenge, serious and steady and sharp as his sword, in Tezuka-dono’s eyes. Ryouma pulled in what felt like his first breath in hours. Days.

Maybe even years.

“Yes, Taishou.”

End

Pride

Akira hovered beside his friend as Shinji flexed his arm. He wanted to go on to recheck the rest of their injured, but he was wary of the thoughtful expression on Shinji’s face. It was the one that might just turn into wanting to excercise the arm immediately, and never mind what the doctor said.

“Shinji…”

The screen behind them slid softly open, letting in a spill of sunlight. “Well, that’s the temple settled with. All the injured will be cared for here until they’re on their feet again. Kamio? How is everyone?”

Akira stood quickly, feeling a bit lightheaded with relief just to hear his leader’s voice, deep and collected as always. “Tachibana-dono! Everyone’s going to be all right with some rest, the doctor says…” He swayed, vision blurring for a moment. Maybe it wasn’t just relief…

Strong hands caught his shoulders, pushing him back down to the tatami, and Akira focused on the quirk of Tachibana-dono’s smile.

“I think you’d better rest, then. That was a pretty heavy head blow you took.”

Akira nodded, setting the world briefly swimming again. “Yes, Tachibana-dono.” Next time, he vowed to himself, he would be ready for Kaidou of Uesugi’s perseverance and would not let his guard down too soon. Gathering his scattered thoughts he continued his report. “Shinji’s shoulder was only dislocated, and Ishida and Sakurai came out with no injuries, though both their squads had serious losses.” Akira bit his lip.

“I saw that Mori and Uchimura had to fall back,” Tachibana-dono said quietly, looking over at the pallet by the far wall. “How bad?”

“Mori took one of Ooishi’s arrows in the leg.” Akira ordered his hands not to clench on each other. “Uchimura… he took Kikumaru’s knife in the side. It got past his armor.”

Tachibana-dono squeezed his shoulder and rose, moving toward the three captains clustered around their heavily bandaged fourth. Akira and Shinji followed silently.

“Tachibana-dono!” Uchimura made as if to sit up, only to be held down by his co-captain.

“The doctor said to stay flat, so stay flat, damn it!” Mori ordered, fiercely, before looking up at their General. “Tachibana-dono.” He bowed his head, formality hampered by the bandaged leg stuck out in front of him and the grip on Uchimura’s arm he hadn’t let go. “I’m sorry. We couldn’t—”

“No,” Tachibana-dono interrupted with a smile. “You have nothing to apologize for.

Mori frowned down at his lap. “But we didn’t—”

“You reached the command lines, and opened up the center for the other squads.” Tachibana-dono settled down beside them, resting a hand, for a moment, on Mori’s bent head. “You occupied their attention for the time we needed. You did well.”

Akira smiled himself, as he sat down, though he had to catch himself against Ishida’s shoulder when he swayed, head giving a warning throb. Mori still didn’t look happy, but he was holding his head up again. No one would ever wonder at their trust in Tachibana-dono, who had seen his trust in them.

“No one yet has been able to defeat Ooishi Shuuichirou when Kikumaru is fighting beside him,” Tachibana-dono told them. “They’re a deadly combination in the field. You did well to hold them as long as you did.”

Uchimura and Mori both looked up at him with clear eyes, now, and Akira nodded to himself. Much better.

“So, I guess we’re eating dinner here, today?” a light voice asked from behind them.

“An-dono!” Akira could feel Shinji laughing, silently, beside him, and knew his face must have brightened right up. But he couldn’t help it. An was leaning in the door, overkimono just a bit askew with how briskly she walked, eyes laughing.

“An.” Tachibana-dono smiled at his sister. “I was coming back soon.”

“Oh, of course you were.” She came and let the very large parcel she was carrying thump the the floor, and gave her brother a look of tolerant amusement. “In the meantime, though, you might as well all get a good meal. It’ll help you heal up.” She undid the parcel’s wrappings and started unstacking the trays inside. “Tell me how it went.”

She listened and nodded and insisted on details as they took turns telling her, and stuffed a bit of rice into Uchimura’s mouth when his eyes darkened over the explanation of how Kikumaru had gotten through to him.

“If you were having trouble with Ooishi-bushou’s ranged attacks, then you’ll just have to practice harder with me, when you’re on your feet again,” she declared, filling her brother’s sake cup again.

“It’s Ishida who’s going to be practicing more with you,” Tachibana-dono corrected, returning the favor. “You’re strongest with a short blade, not the bow, and it will do him as much good to work with a small, fast partner as it will you to face raw strength you can’t overcome directly.”

An huffed at him and some sympathetic grins appeared among the officers. Her determination and ferocity drove An to take her warrior’s responsibilities far more seriously than most women of their class, but they also made her a bit too direct for her own good at times.

Of course, that was one of the things Akira liked best about her. One of the things all Tachibana-dono’s officers could most relate to.

“We need to be stronger than we are, though,” Shinji observed. “All of us.”

Akira met his friend’s eyes and they smiled at each other, sharp and hot. “We will be.” He looked up at Tachibana-dono, willing their leader to accept their determination.

Tachibana-dono’s mouth curved slowly. “Of course you will,” he answered, soft and strong as the first breeze in typhoon season.

The seven of them nodded at each other while An smiled over them with gleaming eyes.

End

Need Beyond Want

Momo snorted with disgust as his only opponnent of the day so far broke and scrambled back. He let the man go, though; the signal banners were changing. Momo nodded to himself as the colors came up and yelled “Fall back!” to his squad, and waded back into the fight to make sure the very few men with determined opponents got free. One last scan of his bit of the field revealed one last warrior still engaged and Momo frowned. Echizen was good enough, he shouldn’t need any extra time…

“Echizen,” he called sharply, “fall back!”

Echizen didn’t even seem to hear him. Momo waved his squad on, with a growl, and went back for Echizen himself, keeping a wary eye out. These worthless rounin Kaga had taken on after Ginka’s fall might be jumping at their own shadows, but, as his father said, you were just as dead if they killed you with a big stick.

They would probably have been fine if Echizen’s opponent hadn’t seen himself about to be caught between the two of them and panicked. Momo reacted automatically to the man’s desperate, circling slash.

So did Echizen.

It ended with Momo’s and Echizen’s swords tangled and the unharmed opponent staring, open mouthed, at his amazing good luck. He scrambled back without questioning it, leaving Momo and Echizen glaring at each other.

“Why did you interfere?” Echizen snapped.

“We’re supposed to be falling back,” Momo growled back. “Don’t you ever pay attention?” He hauled Echizen back toward the rallying point with him, and Echizen came, scowling.

“I had him.”

Momo muttered under his breath, wondering what had possessed him to offer to keep Echizen under his wing, for his first battle with Uesugi. Just because he liked the kid’s style…

The kid’s very aggressive, really kind of familiar style…

“Fine,” Momo snorted, hiding the start of a grin. “See if I ever try to remind you about orders again.”

Echizen glanced up at him, eyes suddenly gleaming. “Whatever you say. Momo-taii-dono.” His own grin was bright and wicked.

They smirked at each other, in perfect complicity, and dove back into the fighting.

Kunimitsu suppressed a rueful sigh as he realized that Ooishi was, indeed, planning to keep close to him the entire battle. He knew his friend didn’t approve of Kunimitsu coming even this far forward.

His doctor probably wouldn’t be very pleased, either.

A nearly healed injury was no excuse for ignoring his duties, though, and he had a duty to be here, to show his standard and anchor the lines he had ordered. Even, or perhaps especially, his oldest friend knew better than to dispute that.

So Kunimitsu merely had a bodyguard.

Of course, there was an extra reason he wanted to be far enough forward to observe closely, today, and Kunimitsu’s mouth tightened a shade as Momoshiro hauled a severely limping Echizen past the last of the engaged warriors. The hasty bandage on the boy’s leg was already bleeding through.

“Looks like he got into trouble, after all,” Ooishi murmured, pulling loose a sash and waving the two in.

Kunimitsu was not surprised, any more than he’d been surprised to see Echizen fighting the strongest, and wildest, of Tachibana’s warriors.

Echizen bore with having his leg rebandaged and stood with a brisk nod. Momoshiro tossed his sword back to him, and they both looked satisfied.

Ooishi, on the other hand, did not. He shook Echizen by the shoulder, sharply. “You can’t go back out like that!”

Echizen didn’t even wince at the shaking. “I have to finish it.” His eyes were nearly blank with determination and dark with wariness, gazing up at Ooishi.

Ooishi frowned. “You’ve done well, today. Don’t push yourself foolishly. It’s more important to continue fulfilling your duty, as a samurai of Uesugi.”

On anyone else, Kunimitsu reflected, that appeal to propriety and pride would have worked. No flicker of acknowledgment marred the boundless determination of Echizen’s expression, though. Only a hint of the need Kunimitsu had seen before.

Kunimitsu nodded to himself and held up a hand, stifling a smile as Ooishi frowned at him, in turn. “Finish it,” he told Echizen. “And then you will come back behind the lines with the other wounded.”

Pure relief lit Echizen’s face with a smile that might have been soft if it weren’t sharpened by such intent focus. “Yes, Taishou.”

“Tezuka,” Ooishi remonstrated softly, as they watched Echizen drive back through the battle, straight for a slim, pale samurai with burning eyes who was clearly waiting for him.

“There’s nothing that holds him back, right now,” Kunimitsu murmured. “And nothing that drives him on. Nothing true.”

Ooishi let out a slow breath.

Kunimitsu watched Tachibana’s warrior falling back as Echizen’s stikes steadily picked up speed and strength. “He deserves better.”

He didn’t know if he could show Echizen everything the boy needed to see. But he would try.

For duty and for the brilliance of the samurai Echizen might become, he would try.

End

Tarnished

Kunimitsu watched his men training, silently, eyes moving from one to another, pausing to rest on the group in the corner, leaning on their blunt spears and laughing, until they fell quiet and straightened and returned to practice. His gaze returned, again and again, though, to one particular pair of warriors.

“So, Echizen convinced Inui to train with him? Such impressive enthusiasm.”

Kunimitsu glanced aside at Fuji, come to stand with him and watch. “Inui invited him.”

Fuji’s brows rose and he looked more sharply at the circling pair as they closed yet again. “He’s interested by someone so young? Echizen can’t have had a man’s name for more than a year or two.” The murmur was absent, though, and Kunimitsu waited to hear what Fuji saw.

Inui was pressing the younger warrior, never following the openings offered by Echizen’s stance, always cutting for the real weakness. Echizen’s eyes were wide and sweat had soaked through his shirt in places, even in the cool morning air, but…

“He’s not afraid,” Fuji stated.

Kunimitsu nodded agreement. Echizen wasn’t afraid. He was watching.

Inui’s next strike didn’t connect. Echizen’s wooden sword slid inside his and slashed high across his hip. Inui was suddenly stiff as they stepped apart again, and Echizen was grinning. Kunimitsu settled back a bit.

“You think he’ll win.”

Kunimitsu glanced at Fuji and didn’t answer. Inui was the best tactician among the Uesugi forces. No one could count more than a handful of successful attacks on him, in training, besides the other generals. And Fuji, of course.

But this boy, with the sharp eyes and unreasonable strength and arrogant mouth, was going to defeat Inui in a training bout.

“He’ll come with us, when we move out next month,” Kunimitsu said, and Fuji cocked his head.

“Will that be enough to show you? Kaga’s forces are pretty raw.”

Kunimitsu was quiet for a moment, watching the soft, warm sheen of polished wood as practice swords flickered in the morning shadows of the training hall, listening to the crack and scrape as they met.

“When the temple in Kaga gathered the peasants and small samurai to rise,” he said at last, softly, “Tachibana was wise enough to ally them to one of the stronger overlords, to throw the rest out. And when they had, he and those he had gathered to him were strong enough to throw Togashi out in turn. Tachibana himself…” Kunimitsu’s eyes narrowed. “They will be enough.”

It was Fuji’s turn to nod silently and Kunimitsu settled back against the wall as Fuji moved away through the training pairs.

Kaga would be a good place to see Echizen’s real mettle. Kunimitsu’s mouth tightened.

Echizen’s form was beautiful. Deadly.

And wrong.

Somehow, it was both too much and not enough. There was a hunger and a bleakness behind those bright, focused eyes, a desperation that contrasted strangely with his obvious strength. Kunimitsu needed to know what was wrong, and know it before this ragged edge on Echizen’s spirit cut apart any of his fellow samurai.

He would hope to find out when they fought Kaga, and Tachibana’s men.

End

Unnoticed

Sakuno’s eyes were sparkling behind the light veils of her travelling hat.

Not only had Sumire-gozen said that she might go visit the local shrine, but Echizen-dono was escorting her. Sakuno suspected Sumire-gozen had had something to do with that. Normally the high-handed manner of her mother’s noble cousin alarmed her, but if Sumire-gozen approved of someone then no one else would thwart them.

Even the clan lord didn’t often go against his mother’s wishes.

And it seemed that Sumire-gozen approved of Echizen-dono and the fact that Sakuno liked him. However much the crowds out on the streets jostled around her, nothing could make Sakuno regret coming out in public today.

Even if there were an awful lot of awfully loud people…

“Don’t you know anything? The Tatsumi school holds the saya like that, so you can draw like this!”

Sakuno squeaked, starting back and treading on her own hem so that she wobbled, as a blade swished past her nose, close enough to catch on her long veils. The brightly dressed samurai demonstrating for his friends didn’t seem to notice.

“That training journey you took really taught you a lot, Sasabe-sama,” one of them exclaimed.

The one with his sword out laughed expansively. He was in the middle of the way, now. Sakuno bit her lip, wondering how she could pass.

Beside her, Echizen-dono looked around and sniffed. “You must not have journeyed very far. That isn’t the Tatsumi school’s grip.”

The gaudy samurai spun around, face red. “What?!” His sword speared out, pointing between Echizen-dono’s eyes. “What does a brat like you know about it?”

Echizen tipped his head to the side, so careless of the sharp point a bare thumb’s width from his face that Sakuno gasped. “Well, if you need a lesson…” He dropped his hand to his sword. “It’s the first finger that holds the guard. Like this.” Steel flashed and his sword struck the other aside so hard it spun out of the other samurai’s hand. Echizen-dono lifted a brow. “And your grip is too weak.”

“E-Echizen-dono…” Sakuno whispered behind her hand. That was… an awfully provoking thing to say… And then she stumbled a little as the fuming samurai pushed past her to retrieve his sword.

“I’ll give you a lesson, you little runt!” he yelled, making a lunge toward Echizen-dono.

Echizen-dono slipped back out of the way of a vicious cut. “Is that the fastest you can move?” The other samurai didn’t answer, glare fixed and furious, and Echizen-dono shrugged, left foot sliding out, sword dropping low.

“Hah! You think you can defend from below?” The angry samurai bared his teeth and swung down.

Sakuno wasn’t sure what happened next. Echizen-dono’s sword barely seemed to twitch but the other man’s strike went awry and he stumbled forward, eyes wide.

“Too slow,” Echizen-dono said, softly. There was another flash and the other man was down in the street, clutching his leg and keening through clenched teeth as blood pooled rapidly under his thigh.

Echizen-dono flicked his sword away from Sakuno with a snap of his wrist and sheathed it, and turned to look Sakuno up and down. “You didn’t get dirty. Good. Let’s get to the shrine, then.”

Sakuno hurried to his side and they walked on, leaving the commotion behind as the wounded samurai’s friends clustered around him, shouting.

“Echizen-dono… thank you,” Sakuno murmured at last, blushing.

Echizen-dono blinked at her. “For what?”

“Ah… nothing.” She tilted the edge of her hat a little lower, wondering whether Echizen-dono was just being modest or whether he really didn’t think protecting her needed comment.

Or, she admitted to herself with a silent sigh, maybe he hadn’t done it for her at all. He was a samurai, after all; she was young, but she knew how the men of her own class could be about fights and challenges. Sumire-gozen complained about it enough, even though she smiled when she did.

Perhaps she’d ask the kami to tell her which it was, and whether she had any hope of drawing the eye of someone like Echizen-dono.

They walked on with silence drifting between them.

End

Convex

Ryouma sat in his rooms in the middle town, with his sword over his knees, cleaning it. His hands moved automatically, years and years of familiarity guiding them while his eyes rested on the blade without seeing it.

There were strong people, here. Not many that could give him trouble, but a handful who might be worth something to him. A handful who might help him step up. Not that he cared about rank, not like Horio, or even Kachiro, whose ambitions were a lot more realistic. He’d watched his father’s distant smirk at generals who passed through their town. Rank wouldn’t help.

His sword flashed lantern light up at him as he turned it over and he blinked dark spots out of his eyes as he reached for the oil.

Rank wouldn’t help. Talent wouldn’t help. Plenty of people were talented; Ryouma was talented; talent wasn’t enough to get past his father. The rest of the world fell away from Ryouma’s sword and left only him standing, and still he couldn’t find the step to reach where his father stood.

Stood smirking.

Ryouma gazed blankly at the surface of his sword as his hands smoothed a fold of soft paper down its curve, wiping away excess oil.

Maybe Uesugi would be different. Maybe he would finally find it here.

Whatever it was.

End

At First Sight

“Oh, oh, over here! Come here, Sakuno, you can see the new warriors from here!”

Sakuno squeaked as her friend grabbed her hand and pulled her toward an open screen. “Tomoka! But… if they see us…”

Tomoka paused to give her an exasperated look. “One of them might be someone we’re married to. You know Sumire-gozen is thinking about that for you these days. You want to look, don’t you?”

“Well…” Sakuno nibbled her lip.

“Good. So come on!”

Sakuno didn’t resist being dragged this time, though she did entertain a very brief and uncharitable thought that Tomoka’s kimono were plainer than hers and less likely to be seen through the screening leaves. That was unkind, though, she scolded herself. Tomoka was her friend and would never leave her in trouble.

Even if she did get them both into trouble with her boldness.

They did have a good view of some of the new, young samurai gathered under the trees. They must have just finished some training. They all looked tired and dusty and one was all wet from the well-bucket he’d just turned up over his head.

“I’ll be given rank soon,” one of them was saying. “Thanks to my two years of battle experience, I have advantages.”

Tomoka snorted, inelegantly, beside Sakuno. “I bet his father was a foot soldier.”

“Tomoka!” Sakuno hissed, making hushing motions.

And then she was distracted.

One of the samurai who had been standing quietly on the edge of the group took the well bucket and dipped up some water to drink. The calm of his expression and the economy of his gestures fixed her eyes on him. “Oh…”

“Hm?” Tomoka nudged against her shoulder. “What?”

“The dark one,” Sakuno murmured. “With the deep eyes.”

“The one at the water?” Tomoka made approving sounds. “He looks just about our age! He must be really good to be here at the castle so young.”

“Yes…” Sakuno sighed as the one they were watching pushed his hair back. He was so graceful.

“Sakuno-hime! Are you in here?”

Sakuno jumped and squeaked at the voice of one of her kinswoman’s ladies in waiting. “They’ll find us!”

“Hurry up, then,” Tomoka hissed back, jumping to her feet and pulling Sakuno toward an inner room.

Sakuno went along as fast as possible, but she also threw a last look over her shoulder, though the small spring leaves, at the young samurai.

End

Immanent

Echizen Ryouma had been in Kasugayama for a week, and one of Uesugi’s warriors for three and a half days, before he ran into trouble. It was different than the trouble he’d expected.

One of the older and, in his briefly considered opinion, obviously lesser samurai was watching Ryouma while he practiced cuts alone. He’d known to expect that; people generally did watch him and it didn’t make any more difference to him than the slight tickle of sweat running down his neck or the small roughness against his palm where the wood of the practice sword had been chipped. It was when the man started talking to his friend that trouble started.

Not for Ryouma, of course. Not yet.

“So that’s supposed to be one of our new warriors? What, are the generals taking on pages, now, and letting them walk around with their fathers’ swords strapped on, pretending they’re samurai?” The man’s friends chuckled with him.

Since Ryouma wouldn’t have touched his father’s sword if it had been delivered as a gift with the Emperor’s compliments, he snorted.

The talkative one straightened up from the wall where he’d been leaning. “You! What was that? Are you disrespecting your betters?”

Ryouma straightened in turn and eyed the loud-mouth coolly. “No.”

It took a moment, but eventually the implication penetrated and the loud-mouth started turning red and stepped forward with a hand tight on his sword. “Why you…”

A corner of Ryouma’s mouth turned up. It was always so easy; too easy, really, but he did get some amusement from teaching idiots not to make assumptions. His weight shifted and his shoulders relaxed as he waited for the loud-mouth to come into range.

A shadow filled the doorway. “Enough of that, Arai.” The newcomer smacked the loud-mouth briskly across the back of the head. “You know how Taishou feels about fights. You want to lose your head? And the kid’s too?”

“Momoshiro-taii!” the loud-mouth sputtered. “But…!”

The newcomer raised his brows and the loud-mouth hunched his shoulders and backed away. The newcomer cocked his head at Ryouma, still standing and quietly watching. “If you didn’t know, fighting in the clan is forbidden, here,” the man smiled.

Ryouma shrugged a shoulder; he doubted it would matter. Fights found him and he found fights, no matter what the rules were. The newcomer paused and looked at him harder, eyes suddenly gleaming. “Of course, training hard, on the other hand, is encouraged,” he murmured. He plucked a wooden sword off the rack and stepped out onto the floor, grinning. A streak of sunshine from one of the windows made his inviting glance even brighter.

Ryouma eyed him for a moment and grinned back. This one looked like a better challenge than the loud-mouth; if he was a captain he should be at least a little good. Ryouma slipped into the dusk between the slanting bars of gold light and set his feet.

After six exchanges Ryouma was smiling for real and shifted his sword to his left hand. He’d been right; Momoshiro was strong. He ignored the murmurs from the watchers around the walls, as inconsequential as the dusty breeze blowing in the door. Momoshiro’s teeth flashed white at him. “That’s more like it.”

Ryouma’s grin turned wicked and pleased. This Momoshiro had seen that he wasn’t leading with his strongest hand. It looked like a captain, in Uesugi’s forces, really was a little good. Good. That made this match worth something.

The next pass sent them both staggering back with impressive bruises starting, he could tell, and Ryouma spun around, feet sliding over the sleek wood of the floor, ready to lunge in at full strength.

Momoshiro stepped back. “Good practice,” he declared. “I’ll have to be sure to defeat you quickly, next time.”

Ryouma considered this and nodded, resting his practice sword over his shoulder. “Later, then.” A corner of his mouth curled up. “When your leg is healed, Taii.”

The captain blinked at him and laughed. “I like you.” He reached out to rumple Ryouma’s hair as he left, now limping a bit though there was no blood showing through the bandage Ryouma was sure must be wrapped around his calf.

He glared a bit after Momoshiro’s broad back and smoothed his hair back down and settled back to his solitary practice, ignoring the whispers and glances around him. A tiny smile lingered.

Maybe he would like it here.

End

Story Notes

The Translated arc is a retelling of the Prince of Tennis manga in the style of samurai stories.

It was inspired by my long-running frustration with the way Konomi draws on the tropes of the samurai story but sets them in the context of a shounen sports story. The two kinds of stories do not mix well, and character behaviors which would be explicable, and even poignant, in a samurai story become dissonant and even distasteful in a sports story. Echizen, for example, is a classic samurai figure: the character so brilliantly talented that he’s a little mad from it. That is not, however, the kind of character who makes a good sports hero, and the shape of journey Echizen needs to take is totally at odds with the journey of a good sports hero. Finally, egged on by my fellows, I decided to have done with it and write the tennis boys in the setting they so manifestly belong to.

This arc will not cover every single event in the tenipuri storyline. It will only touch on the key points that most fixed my attention. That will, however, cover most of the teams sooner or later.

Setting

The arc is set in the late Muromachi period, somewhere around 1480 to 1550. This is the Sengoku era, the time after the Ounin war, when centralized authority failed and many great overlords were overthrown. The great domains broke up and the land was claimed by the lesser samurai, the peasants, the monasteries who worked and lived locally. This was the era of constant small battles, border skirmishes month after month and year after year, when the number of retainers a lord could claim and soldiers he could support and mobilize was vital to who survived and who didn’t.

Thus, the tennis clubs become the body of various domain lords’ retainers, and the Regulars become the generals and captains among them.

Liberties

This is not intended to be historically accurate in every aspect. I am drawing as much on the, at best, semi-historical genre of Japanese samurai stories as on actual history. The places in which Konomi has already performed that same maneuver only complicate my attempts at historicity.

Among other things, Konomi drew many of his character names from actual clans and heroes of this period. Rather than attempt to contort the plot around those facts, I have simply omitted any reference to the historical Sanada or Tachibana or Echizen clans and let the characters keep their names in their fictional situations.

For another thing, all the tenipuri characters get to keep their hair, rather than be partially shaved for a fasionable samurai coiffure. In this, it seemed best to follow common practice for demi-historical manga and anime rather than cause my readers to snarf their drinks all over the screen while trying to envision Tezuka with a proper period head-shave, moustache and topknot.

The historical aspects that I have used directly, such as the Takeda and Uesugi rivalry, are intended to echo, rather than precisely reproduce, actual historical events. In many cases I have considerably compressed, stretched or altered the timeline of events which did occur, historically.

Similarly, I have moved around some of the events and, more importantly, realizations within the tenipuri timeline to accommodate things like the lack of inter-domain travel and the segregation of the sexes. Sakuno would not, for example, be on a battlefield to intervene when Echizen is injured, but she can gain the same understanding of his determination in other ways.

I have assumed a much larger age range for the tenipuri characters, as well. The third years are now in their late twenties and early thirties and the second years in their twenties, generally. Echizen is about sixteen, as our story opens.

In other words, they are the ages they act, now.

Needless to say, a certain amount of fudging has been done to keep the fatalities down among the major characters.

Titles

I have used period, rather than modern titles, which I realize may set some readers off their strides. Most of them should be clear in context, but for those who would like a separate definition:

-sama/-dono: these were the titles of common courtesy, used both with peers and superiors. The usage is roughly equivalent to the modern-day -san.

-gimi or no kimi: two forms of the same title applying to a landed warrior or noble. Used in pretty much the same way as -dono.

Taishou/bushou: General. Bushou is a broader word for it, while Taishou is more personal and specific, and more particularly exalted as a title.

Taii: Captain. A sub-commander within the ranks of a clan’s samurai.

-hime: used for a woman or girl who is well born, as, for example, a member of a domain lord’s family. A girl from the lower ranks of the warrior class might be called ojou-sama by her inferiors (or ojou by a superior who’s being kind), or simply Name-dono.

-gozen: a title used to address a woman of rank. Initially an address for noble women, by this late in the period it was shifting toward an address for the wives of samurai.

Tono/Oyakata-sama: terms for one’s own domain lord, the ruler to whom one owes allegiance or fealty. Note that Tono is the direct-address form of -dono.

Domainname no Kami: title of the lord of a domain, such as might be used to refer to him in conversation. Eg the Uesugi clan lord would be Echigo no Kami when the Takeda generals are talking about him.

These are only a fraction of the titles actually in use during this time period, of course. Rather than pull out the whole bewildering array, I have picked out a few of the most common for the sorts of situations the characters find themselves in.

The Law of Rikkai

Seiichi stands behind the coach’s bench with his companions, one new and one old, watching the team captain take point after point. Seiichi isn’t even breathing hard from his own match, just finished. His voice is low, though, as he says, “We can’t lose.” That surety sings through him, like the blood through his muscles; he feels it. Not just his own strength, but the strength of these two with him.

They will meet the best. They will be the best. He wraps his hand around that certainty and feels it like the familiar grip of his racquet.

Genichirou’s spine pulls a little straighter. “Of course,” he states, frowning a little. It’s unthinkable that he, that they, would lose. Loss is not something to be tolerated by the strong. Not something the strong should permit themselves. Contemplating the possibility of loss is a failure of the spirit, only worthy of contempt.

They can never lose.

“We will not lose,” Renji agrees. It’s quite clear that this is the case. Even though his figures on these two as yet barely fill a dozen pages of the fresh, white notebook he bought when he moved, the curve those figures will graph is already evident. He suspects it will be an asymptote in the end, but for now the curve is steep, and its movement is upward.

There’s beauty in that curve, and it soothes his still rather sore heart. He will follow it.

End

Untitled Drabble

“‘Young and fun loving’?”

“Are you saying it isn’t fun to win?”

“You’re the only one winning! What about ‘Generous’?”

“Who paid the membership fee for us to play here?”

“You know, I should have known it was you as soon as I read the bit about ‘too elegant and refined for a personal ad to encompass’.”

“So why are you here?”

“Because it sounded funny, before I knew it really was you!”

“And now we have objective proof that you admire me.”

Shishido glared. “I am never using a dating service, ever, ever again,” he declared.

Atobe just smirked.

End

305 The Way It Should Have Been

One

Keigo watched with dazed detachment as the world faded back into arm’s reach. He took a slow breath and blinked hard a few times, pulling the court back into focus.

And then he almost regretted it, because Echizen was trotting toward him with a smirk, waving an electric razor in one hand. “You lost,” Echizen announced with insolent cheer, and flicked on the razor and held it out.

Keigo regarded the buzzing implement with a sneer. Unfortunately, a quick look at the scoreboard showed that Echizen was telling the truth. Keigo had lost. And he had also made a deal.

And Atobe Keigo did not go back on his word.

Keigo plucked the razor out of Echizen’s hand, loftily ignoring the brat’s grin. He lifted it and then paused. There was something missing, here. He considered it for a moment, lips pursed and head cocked and slowly turned to regard his club members. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it his way.

“Why,” he quietly asked that sea of wide eyes and pale faces, “aren’t you cheering?”

Oshitari’s brows vanished under his bangs while Mukahi choked. Shishido sat down, hard. “Atobe, have you stripped a gear?” he asked, weakly.

Keigo gave him a cool glare. “Certainly not.” He waved a hand at the club and snapped his fingers imperatively.

“A… Ato… be…” a voice in the crowd faltered.

Well, it was a start. Keigo nodded graciously and ran his fingers through his hair, lifting it so it wouldn’t matt in the clipping edge.

“Atobe…” a few more voice breathed.

Keigo carefully ran the razor around his ear, working up in sections. No sense doing this in a haphazard, un-classy manner. He shook strands of hair off his fingers, taking a certain satisfaction in the way they shimmered, blowing away in the sunlight.

The voices of his club picked up momentum and volume. “Atobe! Atobe! Atobe!“

Keigo ran a hand over his head to be sure he hadn’t missed any spots, which would be unsightly, and nodded with satisfaction. He tossed the razor, flipping it through the air, and caught it again, and raised it fisted in his hand. His club roared.

Echizen’s smirk, when Keigo looked, was as wide as ever, but there was a faint, grudgingly impressed, crook to it. Keigo smirked back.

“Better luck next time.”

Echizen blinked. “I won,” he pointed out. “What do I need better luck for?”

Keigo caught his coat as Shishido, mouth twisted ruefully, tossed it to him, slinging it over his shoulder with a stylish flair. He looked back at Echizen, head high. “You won once.”

Echizen snorted, and eyed Keigo, and the chanting club, and Keigo again. And then he laughed.

Keigo strode off the court and tossed the razor to Kabaji. Echizen wasn’t getting it back, not after making such a nuisance of himself over it. That razor was, by damn, going to be Keigo’s trophy of this match. “Pack that up, Kabaji.”

For once, though, Kabaji didn’t acknowledge his instructions. Instead he looked, for a long moment, at the razor in his hand. Then he clicked it on.

The chanting of the club faltered on the first pass, but as Kabaji calmly made another and tufts of black dropped to the clay, the cheering swelled again, louder than before.

“Hyoutei! Hyoutei! The winner will be Hyoutei!“

It was Keigo’s turn to laugh, throwing back his now-bald head and lifting a hand to conduct the cheers.

Two

Ryouma shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he strolled back to his team. Seeing the monkey king bald was pretty satisfying, and all of Hyoutei bald should be even better. He’d have to see. He grinned at his teammates as he approached. Oishi-senpai still had a faintly horrified expression, but Momo was laughing so hard he had to lean on the fence and the corners of Fuji-senpai’s mouth were curled up.

Tezuka-buchou, on the other hand, had his arms folded and shook his head. Ryouma tucked his chin down just a bit, looking up from under the brim of his cap as he rejoined them. Okay, so it hadn’t been very nice. Or gracious or any of that stuff. But Atobe had been the one to bet, and Ryouma had won. And Tezuka-buchou wasn’t actually frowning. He actually looked just a little pleased—just a quiet little bit, as he watched Ryouma and Atobe.

Who looked to be directing a riot by now.

Ryouma took a long drink of water and jerked his head toward the other team, where half the club was flocking down to line up for a turn at that razor. “They’re all crazy.”

Inui-senpai adjusted his glasses, suspiciously straight-faced. “I believe the phenomenon is commonly called mass hysteria.”

Momo-senpai finally managed to catch his breath and slung and arm around Ryouma’s neck. “Only you!” he laughed. “Only you would get a whole club to shave themselves bald!”

“That part wasn’t my idea,” Ryouma pointed out, trying not to be pulled off his feet.

Momo-senpai considered that. “You’re right. Only Atobe,” he corrected himself.

Tezuka-buchou made what might have been a snort of agreement. So Ryouma didn’t bother hiding his grin as they watched the breeze blow strands and puffs and tufts of hair away from the Hyoutei tennis club.

Omake

Shishido grumped as he fumbled with the back of his head. “Can’t believe I’m cutting my hair again for this damn club…”

Atobe sniffed. “No one asked you to.”

Shishido growled at him direly, and then yelped as the razor nipped the skin at the back of his neck.

“Here, Shishido-san, let me,” Ohtori offered in a soothing tone, taking the razor. “You missed a spot in the back.”

Shishido hmphed but sat still while Ohtori finished him off.

Mukahi ran a hand over his head thoughtfully. “Actually, you know, this is kinda nice. It’s a lot cooler for summer, that’s for sure.” He rubbed at his head again. “Feels kind of weird though. Hey, Yuushi, let me feel yours.”

Oshitari caught his partner’s reaching hand. “Later,” he murmured.

“Doubles pairs,” Hiyoshi said, very quietly, handing the razor back to Kabaji, who packed it away with what might have been a tiny glint of satisfaction.

Atobe looked over his, now largely hairless, team with something like affection. “All right. Time to be going.”

End

Hearts and Flowers

“Oh, hey, wow. Are those real?”

Aerith looked up into bright eyes. A little too bright, and she tensed for a moment, but the SOLDIER’s face was open and smiling with none of the distance that Tseng’s had, when he came. “Yes, they are.” She lifted one of the bouquets from her basket and offered it.

The man leaned over it, inhaling deeply, and his eyes lidded with pleasure. Actually, he looked a lot like a cat in the middle of a catnip patch, and Aerith had to stifle a giggle.

He let out a dreamy sigh. “Those smell wonderful. How much for the bunch?”

“Five gil, for those.”

He pulled out his wallet and paid immediately, and stuck the bunch of flowers under his nose. “Mmmmm.”

Aerith couldn’t help laughing this time. “People like my flowers, but not usually that much.”

He gave her a slightly crooked smile over them. “Yeah, well. Sharp senses are no bed of roses in the middle of the city.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Aerith tipped her head, considering. So, other people were also hurt by the death and rot of this place. Immediately hurt, not just in the long term.

“Hey.” A light hand touched her arm. “No need to look upset. I knew what I was signing up for.” He waved the flowers. “And these will help tons. Brighten up, hm? It’s a real shame for a pretty girl like you to look sad.”

Aerith snorted. “Oh, honestly.” As if she didn’t get enough propositions, down here. Well, at least this one seemed cheerful enough to take a playful rejection, and she wouldn’t have to act all disgustingly demure, like she did with some. She shoved at him, meaning to connect with his arm, but he turned into it and she lost her balance and wound up grabbing his ribs, instead, to stay on her feet.

“Heek!”

Aerith blinked. The SOLDIER was suddenly standing more than arm’s length from her, looking like someone trying to look casual. He cleared his throat. “Um. Sorry about that. Reflexes.”

She tipped her head. That couldn’t have been what it sounded like. This guy was so obviously a SOLDIER, enhanced strength and reflexes and everything. He couldn’t possibly be ticklish enough to squeak. Curious, she took a step toward him and poked experimentally at his ribs. He jumped back with a more muffled squeak this time, but it was definitely a squeak.

Aerith grinned with utter delight.

“Aw shit,” he muttered, and sidled around to put a light pole between them. “Look, Miss, I’m really sorry for anything I might have said that offended y—heek! Cut that out!”

“Nope.” Aerith dodged around the pole, chasing him. “You’re the big, bad SOLDIER. Why don’t you stop me? Shouldn’t you be faster than this?”

He batted at her hands. “Against a civilian? A civilian girl? Are you kidding?” He squawked at a particularly sharp jab and scrambled back around the post. “I’d never live it down!”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, so I’m just a girl, am I?” She dove after him, fingers crooked vengefully.

“Heek! Ack! No, really, cut it—Ah!” Finally he managed to grab one hand. “If you don’t stop it, I’ll, I’ll…” he sucked in his stomach to evade another pass. “I’ll kiss you!”

Aerith tossed her ponytail back, and gave him a challenging look. “Oh? Was that supposed to be a threat?”

He paused for a long, blank moment and then smiled, slowly. “It was supposed to be something,” he murmured, and stepped toward her.

Aerith let him because that smile did odd things to her stomach.

His kiss was light and respectful, and did more odd things to her knees; she was quietly grateful for the large, warm hand at the small of her back. When he lifted his head she could feel heat in her cheeks.

“Well,” she said, softly, determined not to sound breathless, “I suppose that was worth stopping.”

“Good.” He sounded entirely too smug, and Aerith’s sense of mischief perked up again.

“For a little while.” She wriggled her fingers in his, now quite close and handy, ribs, and grinned wickedly as he squeaked and grabbed for the attacking hand.

“All right, all right! Look.” He raked his free hand through his wild black hair. “If I buy you a drink, will you cut it out?” His expression turned a little pleading. “And not mention this to my buddies? Please?”

She considered this, and considered the humor in his eyes and the careful grip of his hand on hers, not crushing even in this extremity, and made a counter bid. “Buy me dinner, and I won’t tell a soul. And I won’t tickle you for the rest of the day.”

He opened his mouth, relief bright in his face, and then paused and took a longer look at her. That smile spread slowly over his lips again, ending with a charming quirk at one corner. Finally he sighed and declared, “All right, you win. Unconditional surrender, here.”

Accordingly she took her hands away from his ribs and clasped them in front of her, grinning up at him. He shook his head and took one hand again, settling it in the crook of his arm.

“I said you won, didn’t I?” He chuckled as she blushed again. “So? We have the flowers. Where’s a good place for a candle-lit dinner around here?”

End

If I Should Wake Before I Die #4

A lot of people came to visit the church, now, but somehow never more than a few at a time. Even so, Tifa liked to be alone when she came. So when she saw someone kneeling in the shadows by the pool she bit her lip and took a step back, meaning to sneak out quietly and come back later.

When the soft morning light slid over broad shoulders and a tight, charcoal shirt, she stepped forward again, meaning to get a look at Cloud’s face and see whether or not he needed company.

When the man raised his head and she saw the wild black hair she couldn’t hold back a gasp. He looked around, smiling. “There you are.”

Tifa caught at the cracked stone pillar next to her, feeling dizzy with shock. “You…” she whispered. “You’re…”

“Zack,” he supplied, obligingly.

“I remember.” She closed the last few steps between them, eyes fixed on him. He looked so real, so there, that her hand lifted to touch and make sure. The amusement in his eyes brought her back to herself before she quite groped a stranger (mostly stranger), and she pulled her hand back quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“Tifa.” He nodded. “I remember, too. Though I have to say,” his eyes slid down her body, “you’ve certainly grown up a lot.”

Tifa’s face heated at that look and she glared at him. Zack held up his hands, contrite. “Ah, I didn’t mean it like that!” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, okay, I did mean it like that, but not like that.”

Tifa sniffed. He wasn’t leering like the guys in the bar sometimes did, though, so she let it go and settled down on the still-cool boards beside the pool. The company of someone who was dead was close enough to alone. “So, why are you here?” She frowned. “Actually, how are you here?”

Zack folded his legs and sat back down himself. “Hey, Sephiroth isn’t the only stubborn bastard around.”

She tried not to flinch at that name and he shook his head, sadness dimming his wry, easy smile. “Aerith taught me, when I finally convinced her I wasn’t going anywhere,” he said quietly.

“Oh.” Tifa looked down at the pool, a smile softening her own lips. “If… if you see her, tell her thank you for me?”

“She heard you when you said it yourself.”

Tifa raised her head, startled. “She did?”

Zack’s expression was fond. “She blushed. The two of you are awfully cute, you know.”

Tifa was pretty sure she was blushing herself. Zack waved a hand, pretending not to notice. “It’s hard to be here like this,” he went on, “but we’re not really gone you know. It isn’t that hard to keep track of you and Cloud.”

“Oh.” Cloud and her? Why her?

“Harder for you to keep an eye on us, which is why I’m here, actually.” His hand closed around hers, warm and solid. “I wanted to thank you,” he told her, eyes serious and level and as warm as his hand. “Thank you for taking such good care of Cloud. Thank you for caring for Aerith, when she was with you.” The tilted smile returned. “You’ve been a fantastic guide, all along.” He lifted her hand and her eyes widened as he kissed her palm, soft and slow, earnest gaze fixed on hers.

“I—” She took a breath and tried again, without squeaking this time. “You’re… you’re welcome, of course.”

He grinned at her and stood, tossing her a casual salute. “We’ll be seeing you, then.”

The rising sun finally spilled down into his corner of the church and he was gone.

Tifa huffed and pressed her closed hand to her chest. “I see what Cloud means, about you,” she muttered. The pool rippled merrily in the clear light, and she reached out and touched a fingertip to the surface of the water, smiling. “Yeah. You take care of him, too, then. Okay?”

She lingered beside the pool, enjoying the sunlight that lay over her shoulders like a friendly arm.

End

If I Should Wake Before I Die #3

Dust puffed up as Cloud drove the sword into the ground.

It took him a moment to pull his hand away from the hilt, and then he stood just staring at it. His new sword was an excellent one, but this… this was Zack’s sword.

“Which is why you have no right to use it, idiot,” Cloud muttered to himself, slumping down to sit beside it. His hand still stole back out to touch the blade.

“You’re going to cut yourself, playing around like that. Don’t you know better, by now?”

Cloud surged halfway to his feet, only to fall back with a thump, staring. He had to swallow a few times before he found his voice; when he did it was hoarse. “Zack?”

On the other side of the sword, Zack put his hands on his hips and grinned. “In the flesh.” After a considering pause he added, “Only not, of course.” He looked down the length of his body with a critical expression. “She’s right, this really does take it out of you. We should make this quick.”

Cloud bowed his head, dozens of childhood whispers dinning in his ears. Something left undone could hold a spirit to the world; and surely someone like Zack had had hundreds of things left undone, and now he couldn’t rest, and it was entirely Cloud’s fault. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Zack sounded startled. “What for?”

“If you can’t move on… I…” Cloud stared down at the dust. “It’s my fault.”

There was a sigh and then a small thud, and Zack was sitting beside him. “I realize it may be hard to believe after the past couple months, but, honest, not everything in the world hinges on you personally.” Zack sounded patient, now, and Cloud’s head sank a little lower.

“I know that,” he protested. “But…” He looked up and couldn’t get another word out in face of the wry smile Zack wore.

“Let me guess. You think you got me killed.”

Cloud might have been out of it at the time, but he remembered enough to be very clear about the fact that he had gotten Zack killed. Since Zack obviously didn’t agree, though, he shrugged and looked away. “It isn’t just that.”

Zack leaned back on his hands. “So what is it?”

Cloud raked a smudged hand through his hair, embarrassed and guilty, and a little annoyed that Zack was going to make him say it out loud. “Damn it, Zack, I was pretending to be you! Claiming to be you!” A glint off the sword caught Cloud’s eye and he slumped again, muttering, “Running around, waving your sword, telling everyone I was a SOLDIER First Class, and used to be Sephiroth’s friend, and…” The sheer humiliation of it choked him. “You can’t possibly tell me you aren’t pissed off about that.”

“Sure I can.” Zack chuckled as Cloud’s head whipped up to stare at him. “Cloud, you idiot, you were sicker with transition than anyone else I’ve ever seen, and by the time you could put two words together in a row all the physical evidence and memories you had pointed to you being me. Why should I be mad at you about that?”

Cloud opened his mouth and closed it again, nonplussed by this attack of logic.

“Besides,” Zack crossed his ankles comfortably, “you did a good job of being me. Saved the world and everything.” He smiled at Cloud, eyes sparkling behind the glow. “I’m not mad. I’m actually pretty damn proud of you.”

Cloud’s chest suddenly felt light and shaky, and he swallowed against a hot tightness in his throat. “Zack…”

“I mean, look at how well you turned out. You are First Class, now, my friend.” Just as Cloud thought he might have to look away or cry, the sparkle turned into a gleam. “Of course, some things never change.”

Cloud yelped as Zack tackled him into the dust and glared up at his captor. “Zack!”

Zack grinned down at him. “Too much seriousness is bad for you.”

Cloud’s eyes narrowed and he growled. He remembered that line. And, while he might have gotten pummeled like a little kid three or four years ago, things damn well had changed, now. He twisted and heaved, and bared his teeth in a grin of his own when it actually worked and dumped Zack off him. He dove after.

They thrashed back and forth though the rising clouds of yellow until Zack finally got his weight over Cloud’s hips and both Cloud’s hands in a good grip. By then they were both out of breath and laughing.

“I’m going to win next time,” Cloud declared, wriggling his wrists to test Zack’s grip.

And it did loosen for a second, but in an odd way. Cloud frowned. He frowned more when Zack muttered, “Aw, hell.”

“What? Zack? What is it?”

The smile he got this time was a little more crooked than normal. “Just reality catching up with us again.” Before Cloud could ask what he meant, Zack shook him a little. “Listen. It wasn’t your fault, Cloud. And I’m still here. Remember.” His expression turned considering. “Actually… why don’t I make sure of that.”

Just as Cloud’s brain was starting to catch up to who and where they were and what must be happening, Zack swooped down and kissed him. Cloud’s brain hit the pause button again.

Zack’s lips were gritty and his mouth tasted of dust. And then it was just warm, and wet, and the soft pressure of Zack’s tongue searching his mouth.

And then it was nothing.

Cloud lay, staring up at the sky, quite alone on the bluff except for the sword. “Damn it, Zack,” he whispered, hearing his own voice shake. “I demand a rematch.”

A short gust of wind ruffled his hair like an affectionate hand.

End