Fluff

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Branch

Ink Burns

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fanfiction, produced according to the principles of transformative fair use as put forward in US copyright law, and abiding by the custom and practice of fan-produced work in Japan, where the source texts were created. No author is in any way affiliated with any of the creators of the source texts, nor with the companies who distribute their products, nor any other rights holder, and these stories were not authorized by either the creators or the producers. Ink Burns is a fan site and the material here is freely provided for the enjoyment of fellow fan-community members; there is no commercial infringement.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 US license at the Ink Burns fanfiction archive (http://www.branchandroot.net/archive/).

"The Rain" published on 2004-03-06 21:06:00.

"Glow" published on 2004-03-08 21:08:59.

"Security" published on 2004-04-19 14:21:05.

"Simple" published on 2004-08-10 18:19:59.

"Touch" published on 2004-10-17 19:56:45.

"Tea" published on 2005-07-28 13:30:48.

"Best Friend" published on 2006-12-14 23:13:33.

"Finding Home" published on 2007-02-22 20:27:19.

"Drink Deep" published on 2007-04-15 22:02:10.

"After Frost" published on 2007-04-27 22:05:14.

"Irrigation" published on 2007-10-15 13:00:30.

"If Only" published on 2008-04-11 15:36:44.

"Through the Sleepless Nights" published on 2008-06-19 14:54:48.

"Reach and Grasp" published on 2008-06-19 15:41:58.

"Ice Is Also Great and Would Suffice" published on 2008-06-30 14:18:01.

"Deeper than Love" published on 2008-10-02 14:28:56.

"Machinations" published on 2008-10-05 21:33:02.

"Kiss for a Lifetime" published on 2008-10-05 21:58:46.

"Nine Years, Eleven Months, Twenty-seven Days" published on 2008-11-18 14:37:59.

"What's Love Got to Do With It" published on 2009-01-20 15:50:19.

"I Said, You Said" published on 2009-01-21 15:41:08.

"Comfort Food" published on 2009-03-16 16:00:20.

"What to Expect When You're Expecting" published on 2009-06-28 12:28:59.

"Relative Values" published on 2009-07-08 17:50:17.

"Benefits of Friends" published on 2010-02-08 14:48:46.

"Withdrawal" published on 2010-02-08 14:50:54.

"The Flower and the Bird and the Wind and the Moon" published on 2010-05-25 12:14:08.

"A Theme in Pentatonic - One" published on 2010-05-26 16:23:10.

"A Theme in Pentatonic - Interlude Six" published on 2010-06-03 13:33:05.

"A Theme in Pentatonic - Coda" published on 2010-06-04 14:05:23.

"Cat's Cradle - Chapter One" published on 2010-06-07 13:29:27.

"Cat's Cradle - Chapter Three" published on 2010-06-09 15:36:09.

"Cat's Cradle - Chapter Four" published on 2010-06-10 14:55:37.

"Cat's Cradle - Epilogue" published on 2010-06-11 16:01:48.

"Life Lessons" published on 2011-07-29 12:56:27.

"A Time and a Place" published on 2011-07-29 13:02:21.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Four" published on 2011-08-19 11:02:30.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Five" published on 2011-08-26 11:42:02.

"Up on the Angel's Shoulders" published on 2011-10-17 19:49:06.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Nine" published on 2011-09-23 13:15:55.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Ten" published on 2011-09-30 11:29:55.

"It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Twelve" published on 2011-10-14 14:37:42.

"A Cup of Sugar" published on 2011-10-19 13:35:06.

"The Blue Lights, The Scent of Water" published on 2011-11-09 13:12:44.

"Come Along With Me" published on 2011-11-23 12:40:20.

"To the Silver Night Sky" published on 2012-02-22 13:17:24.

"The Command of Those Who Ask of Me" published on 2011-12-14 15:48:18.

"Seven, Eight, Lay Them Straight" published on 2012-03-14 13:44:42.

"Kantoku Means I Love You" published on 2012-08-15 15:33:35.

"Chrysanthemum Tea" published on 2012-08-22 14:22:51.

"Bellflowers Ring Silently" published on 2012-09-05 16:11:10.

"White Camellias Turning Red" published on 2012-10-03 14:40:50.

"The Tang of Hibiscus" published on 2012-10-10 14:17:21.

"The Simple and the Subtle - Chapter Two" published on 2014-03-30 12:15:25.

"The Simple and the Subtle - Chapter Three" published on 2014-03-30 12:24:14.

"The Simple and the Subtle - Chapter Four" published on 2014-03-30 12:37:09.

"Heads or Tails" published on 2014-04-11 10:40:27.

"Evening of Primroses" published on 2014-06-07 11:05:21.

"Sun-warmed" published on 2014-04-25 12:13:47.

"Cool, Clear Water" published on 2015-07-06 12:38:35.

"A Language of Daisies" published on 2016-06-19 15:25:55.

"Candles Lit at the Doors" published on 2017-08-21 19:26:41.

"Approach Over the Lake" published on 2019-09-02 15:37:52.

"The Marriage of Lightning and the Lake" published on 2019-09-04 19:23:34.

Attributions can be made by author's name and a link to the archive.

This ebook edition was published on September 6, 2019 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Cover illustration is .

Cover design by Branch.

The Rain

Ed and Roy go for a walk in the rain... at least that was Ed's intention. Fluffy Drama, I-2.

- Associated Fanart: Roy in the Rain by Jedera

Edward Elric had spent years living out of his suitcase, and thought it a waste of time to actually unpack when he traveled. Accordingly, he dumped his current suitcase on top of a very battered chest of drawers, opened it and considered his unpacking done.

Ed wandered into the main room of the hostel suite and glanced at Roy, who stood at the window looking out at the breaking storm. They had barely beaten it to the door. Lightning flashed, a crack of thunder hard on its heels.

"So, I guess this means you'll spend today holed up inside?" Ed asked.

"I actually like rain, you know," Roy answered, tone reminiscent. "I used to go out in it all the time when I was little. Especially storms like this. Even when I started specializing, I still liked walking in it. It wasn't until later that it became," he paused a moment before finishing, "inadvisable."

Too dangerous, Ed translated. He gave Roy's back a long, thoughtful look, chewing on his lip. They had almost two days, yet, before the Fel garrison commander was expecting them. He knew Roy wanted to surprise the man, but maybe they had a little time, too, for the wistfulness in Roy's voice.

Ed went to Roy's side and held out his hands. "Come on."

Roy laid his hands in Ed's with a tiny smile. "Where?" he inquired.

"Outside."

Roy halted. Ed tightened his grasp.

"Look, no one knows we're here yet, right? And you're out of uniform. And neither of us have ever been here before so it's not like anyone will recognize us. We're about as safe as we can get." He tugged lightly, urging Roy to come with him. After another moment of frozen hesitation, Roy did.

They had wound up in one of the second floor suites with an outside entrance. The landing in front of their door was small enough that Ed, locking up, felt the shiver that ran through Roy as the rain struck them. Roy descended the stairs slowly, looking up rather than at where his feet were going, and Ed had a momentary qualm. He couldn't, offhand, remember Roy acting quite this absent-minded ever before.

When they reached the street Roy stood with his eyes closed for a moment, and Ed saw another shiver pass over him. Lightning flashed. In the taut silence before the thunder Roy tossed his head back, flinging his hair out of his eyes, and laughed. He spun towards Ed and held out a hand.

"Come on," he called over a long rumble.

Ed's eyes widened.

Roy's smile was open and unconstrained, and his eyes were bright. He looked barely older than Ed.

"Come on," Roy repeated. His grin practically glowed. "If you think you can catch me!" And he was off running, with another laugh, stride long and easy. Ed stood, open mouthed, for several long moments before collecting himself sufficiently to give chase.

Roy was in the town square by the time Ed caught him, standing with his face tipped up to the sheeting water. Ed touched his shoulder just a bit cautiously. Justifiably so, in his opinion, since Roy promptly clasped his wrists and proceeded to swing the both of them in circles until Ed was dizzy. When Roy finally caught him close, Ed could feel that he was laughing again.

When Roy kissed him, Ed tasted the rain on his lips. Roy's mouth was hot in contrast to the water running down them, hot and... bright somehow. That was the only word that came to Ed, the only one that fit this open, laughing, dripping, Roy who kissed him the the middle of the town's public center with thunder rolling overhead. Ed clung to him, dizzy again. He felt like he'd been dropped from a great height, and somehow missed the ground.

Roy drew back slowly, resting his palm against Ed's cheek for a moment before taking his hand. They strolled back through the storm, Ed just a bit dazed, Roy with a bounce in his step that almost qualified as skipping.

"Here," Ed said, once they were standing in their entryway again, "let me dry us off."

Roy caught his hands, keeping them apart. "No, no, trying not to get too much water on the floor while dashing for towels is part of the fun," he admonished, eyes sparkling.

Words failed Ed completely, and he let Roy drag him down the short hall without protest.

The bathroom was not made for two people, and Ed was laughing himself by the time they managed to peel off their soaked clothes and dump them in the tub to drain. Ed spent a moment longing for the plush robe he had stolen from Roy; cotton just wasn't the same. They completed the afternoon's exercise in the miniscule kitchenette, where Roy made tea.

"Is this part of the fun too?" Ed asked with a tiny grin, as he accepted his mug.

"Certainly," Roy answered serenely. "In the summer, at any rate. Hot cocoa in the fall."

Ed forgot his tea, gazing up at Roy instead. He had never seen Roy's eyes this brilliant, or his mouth this relaxed, not drawn the way it usually was even when he smiled. He was absolutely beautiful like this. Roy looked up from his own mug and tilted his head, questioning. Ed caught up Roy's free hand, bending his head over it, pressing the strong fingers to his lips. "Roy..." he whispered.

Roy knelt, coming down to where he could see Ed's face again. "Ed? What is it?"

Ed looked at that unaccustomed, wild happiness lingering in Roy's face and was suddenly, absolutely infuriated. He pulled Roy into his arms and buried his face in Roy's shoulder.

"Damn them all to hell for making you hide this," he breathed, almost shaking with rage. He heard the faint thunk of Roy's mug on the table, felt Roy's hand stroke his still-damp hair.

"Ssh. It's all right. It's only hidden, not gone. If it were," Roy's voice picked up an edge of teasing, "you'd never have convinced me to surprise you, today."

Ed relaxed again with a shaky sigh. "I just wish," he stopped, considered, and went on anyway, "that I could see you this way more often."

"Well, now you know one way," Roy told him. Ed lifted his head to give his lover a wry smile.

"Guess so. Thunderstorms. Who'd have thought?"

Roy gave him back another bright grin. "Get your tea," he directed, "I want to watch the rest of it."

Ed trailed after him, and consented to curl up with a blanket in the open doorway, where they could see the sky, but insisted that Roy sit upwind and keep him from getting wet again.

End

Glow

Ed gets home after a rather rough trip. Fluffy Drama, I-2.

Ed's fingers were too cold and stiff to fumble around with his keys, so he knocked instead. When Roy opened the door, Ed glared at him.

"I hate being cold, I hate giving reports to stupid Generals, and I hate sleeping on train seats," he declared, stepping in out of the biting chill.

"Mm. Makes you wish you were still short enough to fit on one neatly, doesn't it?" Roy shut the door, shooting a sly smile over his shoulder.

Ed was in no mood for banter, and gave him a flat look and a cold, "No." He ignored Roy's raised brow in favor to trying to get out of his coat. It was a real trick when it hurt to lift his arms above chest height. He slumped a little in relief when Roy came to help.

"You're that stiff from sleeping on the train?" Roy asked rather skeptically.

"No." Ed swore he could hear his muscles creak as he made for the kitchen. "I'm that stiff from sitting in endless meetings, chasing idiot criminals over rooftops, sitting in more meetings and sleeping on the train." To his delight, the kettle was already on. He eyed the cupboard that held mugs, doubtfully. Could he reach that far right now?

Roy's hands slipped over his shoulders. "You're walking like a ninety-year-old with arthritis," he noted. "Sit down."

"If I sit down I'll fall asleep," Ed protested.

Roy came around to face him, and brushed the backs of his fingers against Ed's cheek. "Edward. You're home now," he murmured.

Ed, listening to the echoes that sentence made in his mind, closed his eyes, and leaned against Roy for a moment. Roy's arms closed around him gently, careful not to stress sore muscles. When Roy nudged him toward a chair, Ed let him. He watched a bit enviously as Roy reached down a mug without a single twinge or wince. The man didn't appreciate his blessings, that was what.

Once he had folded Ed's hands around his tea, Roy looked Ed up and down, and pursed his lips. "Stay here for a bit," he directed on his way out.

Ed spared the retreating back an incredulous look. There must be something more interesting than he had expected in the tea today, if Roy thought he would voluntarily move ever again.

Faintly, Ed heard water running.

Well, all right, maybe he would move, then. Just not yet.

Roy returned, collected some glasses and a pitcher of water, and left again. Ed looked after him quizzically before deciding it didn't matter and finishing his tea. It was getting easier, as the mug got lighter.

"Ah, good, you finished." Roy took the mug away and held out a hand. "Come on."

Ed winced at the mere thought of standing and walking, and eyed Roy, trying to judge how determined he was. Roy looked amused.

"I suppose I could carry you," he offered. "Do you really want me to?"

Ed weighed his options, and reluctantly came down on the side of dignity. He hauled himself, slowly, out of the chair, only too glad to let Roy support him as he hobbled down the hall. Pleasure at the sight of the bathtub full of steaming water warred with his awareness that getting his boots off would be a serious trial. Busy contemplating the geometry involved in that effort, Ed blinked as Roy sat him down again and started to undo the footgear in question.

Well, that would make things easier.

Ed was unsurprised that Roy helped him with the rest of undressing. He had obviously observed how limited Ed's current range of motion was. He tilted his head, however, when Roy stripped off his own clothes.

"Roy?"

"I somewhat doubt you would make it over the edge without dunking yourself just now," Roy told him.

Ed had to admit, if only to himself, that Roy had a point. Ed loved this bath; it was deep enough to sit upright in and still have water brushing his chin. But that made it rather tall, and his legs weren't any happier about lifting than his arms.

With a good deal of hissing and grumbling, not to mention assistance, Ed managed to lower himself into the tub. It felt boiling hot, which was just about right.

He noted another advantage to Roy's presence once they were in the water. He made a handy backrest, and kept Ed from having to lean on still-chilly porcelain. Best of all, even if Ed fell asleep, Roy was here to keep him from drowning. Ed rested his head on Roy's shoulder.

Slowly, the water began to feel less searingly hot to his fingers and toes, and Ed began to relax. He drifted until Roy nudged him back to awareness.

"Mmm?" Ed asked.

"Drink something before you get too lightheaded."

Ed opened his eyes to find a glass of water in front of him. Temporarily too content to argue, he took it. It was pleasingly cool in his throat, and Ed felt a bit more reconciled with the world as a whole, sipping his water and leaning against Roy's chest. When he was finished he stretched, cautiously, feeling a bit less like that arthritic old man Roy had compared him to.

"Feeling better?" Roy asked.

"Everything still hurts, but it isn't all one piece of pain anymore," Ed decided after a moment's thought. Roy chuckled.

"If you feel like you can walk, I'll see what I can do about that."

Ed managed to dry himself off, but let Roy wind an arm around his waist to help him up the stairs. He greeted their bed with a happy sigh. He would have liked to flop over onto it, but wasn't that flexible. The best he could manage at the moment was a crawl that ended with a sprawl in the middle. Roy pulled up a blanket to keep him warm, and knelt beside him. Ed flinched a little as Roy's fingers pressed into his back.

"Hm," Roy commented. His touch lightened, stroking the grain of Ed's muscles. Ed sighed. "This may take a while," Roy told him, as he moved to straddle Ed's hips.

Ed made ah and ack and ggh noises as Roy's hands loosened his muscles, pressed pain out of them to be swept away.

"Breathe," Roy reminded him as he worked on Ed's shoulder.

"Trying," Ed hissed between his teeth. His next exclamation was a good deal less articulate, as Roy found a knot and pressed down. It loosened with something like a snap, and Ed lay panting as Roy's fingers smoothed up and down his neck. "Ow," he remarked at last.

Roy leaned down to kiss the back of his neck lightly. "All right?" he asked.

"Mmph," Ed answered.

Roy laughed quietly as he moved to sit crosslegged where he could reach Ed's arm. After his shoulder and sides, that only rated a few erks from Ed. He was dozing again by the time Roy pulled the blanket over his shoulders, and moved down beside Ed's leg instead. That got a variety of noises again, including a few gniis. Ed's hamstrings felt like they'd been twisted until they double-kinked, and he twitched uncontrollably as Roy pressed his palm down the back of Ed's thigh. He didn't relax again until Roy started kneading his hips and rear.

"I think you almost pulled something here," Roy said, passing his hand over Ed's left cheek. "There's a bit of swelling."

"I can tell," Ed winced.

"Hang on, then." Roy was back in a few moments, and Ed felt something warm drip onto his skin. He smelled peppermint a moment later, and felt the warmth spread out as Roy rubbed it in. "You're getting too old for this," Roy teased.

"Oh yeah? Then what are you?" Ed grumbled.

"Too wise to do such things to myself," Roy told him.

Ed would have retorted, but Roy had picked up his foot, and dug his thumbs into the center.

"Aaahh," he sighed, instead. He snuggled into the covers, humming happily, and wriggled his toes. He was deeply disappointed when Roy finished. As far as Ed was concerned, no foot rub could possibly last long enough.

Roy lay down beside him, one hand on Ed's back. Ed stretched, very slowly, feeling many of the knots in his body finally come undone.

"Thanks," he murmured, sleepily, turning over. Roy's hand came up to touch his face.

"My pleasure." Then he grinned. "One of these days I really will make a recording of those sounds you make."

Ed glared though half shut eyes. He growled, and reached up to wind his arms around Roy's shoulders so he could pull Roy down and kiss him. Roy stroked his hair back.

"One more glass of water, and then you can sleep," he said.

Ed growled some more, but let Roy coax him out of bed long enough to get a drink while Roy put the covers back to rights. He was better pleased when Roy joined him on his return to bed, and drew Ed into his arms.

"Welcome back," Roy murmured into Ed's hair.

Ed pressed closer against the length of Roy's body and smiled.

End

Security

A reasonable extrapolation from the way Ryoma and Momoshiro tend to fall asleep on each other, with some mild character introspection thrown in. Fluff, I-1, anime continuity

Ryouma had decided some time ago that Momoshiro Takeshi must have a teddy-bear fixation.

He had yet to discover any teddy-bears in Momo's room, but there was still plenty of evidence. It happened about half the time their team traveled anywhere. Current case in point. Ryouma resettled his head on his rather make-shift pillow and wondered idly how quickly Inui-senpai would be able to calculate the actual frequency. Western-style beds sometimes prevented it, but not always. It depended on the circumstances.

Whenever the opportunity arose, at any rate, Ryouma would wake up to find Momo curled around him like he was some kind of oversized plushie.

Elbows in the ribs and kicks to the shins failed to dislodge Momo, or even wake him up. Eventually Ryouma had taken the philosophical approach, and decided that, if he was stuck as Momo's teddy-bear, Momo did make a passable blanket. He was even a decent replacement pillow. And Momo's presence at his back was familiar and comfortable. It wasn't an unpleasant way to wake up, and when you got right down to it that was all that concerned Ryouma.

Even though Kikumaru-senpai did insist on making aren't they cute faces at them if he happened to wake up first.

That thought made Ryouma rub his eyes and take a look around the room, as best he could at the moment. It looked like everyone else had woken up before them, today. He prodded Momo ungently.

"Momo-senpai. It's time to get up."

Momo mumbled something unintelligible and didn't move.

"It's time for breakfast. Get up."

Momo tightened his grasp, making grumpy don't want to noises into the curve of Ryouma's shoulder. Ryouma sighed and thought for a minute. "I heard there was ice cream this morning," he tried.

An inquisitive noise. That was a start.

"So you'd better hurry up, if you don't want Fuji-senpai to put wasabi on all of it."

That did it. There was a brief flail as Momo tried to sit up before he completely let go of Ryouma; he ended up propped on one elbow, blinking. Ryouma congratulated himself on the success of his tactic, and turned on his back so he could watch Momo run their conversation past his brain one more time. Eventually his friend looked back down at him with a rather rueful, one-sided smile.

"There isn't actually ice cream for breakfast, is there?" he asked, with a tinge of hope to his voice nevertheless. Ryouma raised a sardonic brow at his erstwhile blanket.

"Nope."

"Brat." Momo ruffled his fingers through Ryouma's hair, and Ryouma ducked.

"Cut it out," he said, without heat. When Momo chuckled, Ryouma gave him a half-hearted glare. He didn't actually mind that much, as long as Fuji-senpai wasn't around.

Ryouma swore that if he ever found out who had thought it would be a good idea to gift Fuji with a stockpile of small, highly portable, disposable cameras he would make that person regret it. Fuji-senpai had actually mailed one set of pictures, taken before either Ryouma or Momo were awake, to Ryouma's house. His dad had almost seen them! He would never have heard the end of the teasing.

Ryouma had never again doubted the rumors of Fuji Shuusuke's sadistic streak.

Momo unfolded himself to his feet and stretched before offering Ryouma a hand up, too. Ryouma accepted it as part of their accustomed give-and-take when they were around each other in the morning. He had to admit, it was nice to have someone there to remind him where he'd put his socks, and also to have something besides the sink to slump against while he brushed his teeth. Being Momo's alarm clock was a reasonable trade-off. He wondered, sometimes, exactly what would happen when high school ended and they all stepped off the Seishun Gakuen escalator. He thought he would miss not being around Momo like this.

Momo's arms wrapped around him, and for just a moment he leaned back against the solid support behind him.

"Ready to go?" Momo asked.

"Mm." Time to think about all that later.

The arms tightened and then let him go, and they set out to see what breakfast their teammates might have left them.

End

Simple

A little Momoshiro introspective about how he manages to be friends with Ryouma. Drama, I-3

Momoshiro Takeshi considered himself a straightforward sort of guy. He didn't bother to hide what he thought much, and he liked the friends he made by being outgoing and cheerful. He didn't stand on formality, and if that caused certain stiff-necked classmates of his to call him an annoying idiot, well Momo knew that he gave respect where it was due and accepted it where he'd earned it, and that was good enough for him.

Which could be why he'd gotten along with Echizen Ryouma right from the start. They had very similar approaches, that way.

It was one of the more interesting things, to Momo, about their friendship. He was outgoing and outspoken, while Echizen was self-contained and sparing with his words. Momo, despite his casual ways, was really quite proper most of the time, while Echizen, despite his genuine respect for skill and accomplishment, mouthed off to absolutely everyone. And yet, somehow, they were always in the same place, always looking the same way, always knowing what the other would do.

Kachirou had mentioned, once, that it was strange Momo and Ryouma still couldn't play doubles to save their lives, since they seemed to understand and predict each other so well. Momo had replied that that wasn't enough for good doubles, especially when what they could unfailingly predict was that both of them would go for the ball no matter where it landed. Kachirou had agreed, ruefully, that Momo had a point.

In fact, the only one Momo had seen who could play doubles with Echizen was Kachirou himself. And that highlighted the difference, of course. Kachirou played as support to Echizen, and he did it well because he'd spent so long watching how Echizen played. Momo knew how Echizen played, too, but Kachirou... orbited Echizen. Ryouma was the primary in that relationship. And neither Momo nor Ryouma would ever do that for each other. For them, Momo decided, extending his astronomy metaphor, it was more like a double star, both turning around a common center. Not that determination to win generated gravity. Or, maybe it did...

An elbow in the ribs interrupted his musing.

"Momo-senpai, quit dozing off and work on the English," Echizen directed from where he was propped against Momo's back, reading his Japanese textbook.

Momo sighed. "Right, right, whatever you say. Buchou."

Ryouma reached over his head and noogied Momo.

Despite his startlement, Momo could hold back a delighted grin. Lately, Ryouma had been descending to physical retaliation, in their teasing; it was almost as good as having another little brother. Momo thought it was probably because Ryouma was afraid of losing contact, with Momo gone from the club. His sister had acted a little the same, when Momo had started junior high and wasn't in the same school with his siblings anymore. Whatever the cause, it meant that, every now and then, Momo actually won.

Thinking of his brother gave Momo an idea, and he reached around his side and crooked his fingers in Ryouma's ribs.

A stifled squeak answered, and half a second later Ryouma was on the other side of the room, plastered against the wall, glaring at him.

"You're that ticklish?" Momo asked, hugely amused.

"Of course I'm not ticklish," Ryouma snapped. Momo recognized the spinal-reflex, defensive denial, and grinned more broadly. Ryouma glowered.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't let on," Momo assured him.

Ryouma gave him a very suspicious look.

"After all, I have to keep some advantages to myself," Momo finished.

Ryouma now looked like his worst suspicions had been confirmed.

"You worry too much, Echizen," Momo told him. "C'mon, homework." He patted the floor next to where Ryouma's book had fallen.

Ryouma didn't budge a centimeter. Momo sighed a little. Looked like he'd found another gap. Most of the time, he and Ryouma could have their little brawls without worrying, because Ryouma gave as good as he got; it passed the time until they encountered an outsider they could cooperate to take down. Every now and then, though, Momo stumbled across some gap in Echizen's poise. The first one had been Karupin, and he still remembered being startled at how badly Ryouma's cool attitude had shattered when his cat was missing. Feeling the slightest bit vulnerable did not seem to be something Ryouma did with any grace whatsoever. Momo held out a hand.

"Come on, Ryouma," he said, more gently. "You know I wouldn't." Wouldn't attack his friend in a weak spot anywhere except on the court. Wouldn't deliberately hurt him.

Ryouma tucked his head down, and didn't say anything, but did come back across the room and settled down beside Momo with his book. Momo smiled, wryly, down at his friend's bent head. Not quite like having another little brother, he decided. He understood Ryouma better than he did his brother, most of the time, and Ryouma was more willing to be coaxed. Not that a single other person would believe him about that last, but it was still true. Under certain circumstances, Ryouma was also more willing to be protected. As long as Momo was casual about it, Ryouma would let Momo protect him when it came to one of those little gaps.

No, not quite like a brother.

Ryouma leaned against his shoulder, silently, and Momo leaned back, reaching for his homework again.

End

Touch

How Ren reacts to Yoh touching him. Drama With Fluff, I-2, anime continuity, slight spoilers

Fingers were tracing over his back.

Ren twitched. "Cut it out."

Movement only made the sheet slide further down, and the fingers cheerfully moved on to the skin now bared. They danced across his shoulder blades and skipped down the small of his back.

"Cut it out," Ren ordered, a bit muffled by his pillow.

He really had to stop sleeping on his stomach.

"Why?" Yoh asked.

Ren was silent a moment, and Yoh slid a fingertip down the length of his spine. Ren twitched again. "Because it tickles, damn it," he grumbled.

"It does?" The innocent tone made Ren growl; he was never sure how serious Yoh was. "Sorry." The fingertips retreated.

Just as Ren was settling down to go back to sleep, in the expectation that Yoh would leave him alone now, the touch returned. Palms, instead of fingers, stroking down the planes of his back. Ren buried his face in his pillow, stifling a resigned sigh. He should really know better, by this time.

Warmth settled into him, as Yoh's hands moved up and down his back, sweeping over his skin. Ren sighed again, pleasure overcoming irritation. It was never very difficult for Yoh to smooth his irritation away, a fact which, when he was properly wound up, irritated him in and of itself. But at the moment the gentle hands passing over his back as though clearing something away took up too much of his attention for him to be annoyed.

And then Yoh stopped.

"Anna says that Tamao says dinner will be ready soon."

There was a pause while Ren assimilated this information. "This was all just to wake me up for dinner?" Ren inquired, flatly, half wishing he could find the idea harder to believe. He was going to get Yoh for this, later tonight, even if he had to arm wrestle Anna in order to get possession of him. As long as she didn't insist on poker again...

"You don't want her to send Horo Horo up to wake you, do you?" Yoh asked, laughing.

Ren snorted. But when he stretched and would have turned over, Yoh's hands pressed him down again.

"Just a minute."

Ren was drawing breath to object, strenuously, when he felt Yoh's hair brush his back. His shiver gave Yoh time to press a kiss to the center of his back, and Ren stilled, suddenly flushed.

"Okay." A rustle as Yoh sat back. "Ren?" he added, when Ren didn't move.

"That was the first place you touched me," Ren said, voice low. Not in body, of course; that had probably been during the scuffle to get him into the water at Yoh's house in Tokyo, which Ren still remembered vividly. The place Yoh had just kissed was where Ren's father had touched him to set the family sigil. It was the place he had felt warmth when he cast the sigil off. It was the first place Yoh's spirit had truly touched him.

"I know." He could hear the smile in Yoh's voice, and Yoh's fingers brushed across his back once more. "Come on. Dinner."

Ren waited until the heat in his face subsided. Even if Yoh's grin told him that Yoh knew perfectly well it had been there, it was a matter of principle.

"Hurry up, then," Ren told him, pulling on a robe and sweeping past Yoh to the door. "You're always so laid back about everything. Don't think I'll leave you any food out of pity if you're too slow."

"Of course," Yoh said, agreeably.

Ren stalked down the stairs ahead of him, dignity intact. Even if he did have to bite back a soft breath as Yoh smoothed the cloth over his back one last time.

He was definitely going to get Yoh back for this later tonight.

End

Tea

Rukia campaigns against her brother's stoicism. Drama with Fluff, I-2.

Rukia drew some odd looks, marching through the main offices of Sixth Division with a tray of tea. She smiled back, cheerfully, at the ones who seemed most nonplussed, but that only made them edge away from her.

Perhaps "cheerful" plus "determined" was a bit unnerving.

Well, so much the better. Nii-sama should know she meant business. Rukia called her entry at his door and set down her tray beside his desk. "Good evening, Nii-sama."

Her brother regarded the cup of tea she poured and set in front of him as if it were a new subordinate of questionable ability. "You have your own captain to take care of, Rukia," he said, at last.

"I already sent Ukitake-taichou home to his tea," she shrugged. "You're more stubborn than he is, so I thought I had better bring the tea to you."

Her brother gave her a cool look. Rukia returned it with a serene one, not giving an inch. Something that might have been amusement and might have been resignation flickered over his face, and Rukia had to stifle a broad grin as he set down his pen and curved his hands around the hot cup. She turned aside to be sure she hid it, pouring another cup for her brother's new vice-captain.

"I expect you should take a break, too, Kira," she told him gently. The way she set his cup down squarely on top of the papers he'd been working on was a good deal less gentle. He eyed her, looking rather bemused.

"Thank you..." he started, slowly.

"Rukia," she broke in, firmly, before he could evolve a properly elaborate form of address for her. "Just Rukia. Rukia-san, if you must; we were classmates, after all. Renji's right, you know, you're too formal sometimes."

A smile twitched at his mouth. "Rukia-san."

She smiled back, pleased.

Turning, she caught a glint of approval in her brother's eyes. Kira must have been more withdrawn than she'd though, if Nii-sama's relief at this small liveliness in his vice-captain overrode his disapproval for Rukia's informality.

"Rukia. Do not make light of the noble houses," he reprimanded.

... even for a minute.

"Yes, Nii-sama." She patted Kira's hand in reassurance as she turned away. Nii-sama looked slightly taken aback by her calm response, she noted with some satisfaction.

It was a start.

Rukia settled herself on one of the cushions in her room, just a little gingerly. It had been a vigorous training session today, since Ukitake-taichou had gotten Kyouraku-taichou to come work with her. She was grateful, but even a long hot soak hadn't been able to get rid of all the aches afterwards.

A low voice at her door made her start a little and then wince at the twinges through her shoulders. She blinked at the figure in the doorway. "Nii-sama."

With a tray of tea.

Rukia smiled as he came to sit with her, accepting a cup carefully. Her hands were still tingling slightly. The heat of the cup soothed them, and she sighed with relief. "Thank you."

Her brother nodded, quietly. "You're making good progress," he said, after a while.

Rukia had to blink back sudden wetness in her eyes. "I want to make you proud, Nii-sama," she said, just a little husky. She looked down at her tea. "I know it probably hasn't looked like it, in the past."

Nii-sama was silent for a long moment. "I believe you will," he answered, at last.

Rukia took a quick sip of tea to clear her throat. "So. How was your day?"

Nii-sama looked a bit amused at the terribly domestic question, which pleased her.

Rukia leaned in the doorway, watching her brother. To a surface glance, he was the image of tranquility, sitting with a cup of tea and looking out at the stream that ran behind the east wing of the house. It was the tiny, subtle clues that gave him away. Shoulders a little too straight, arms a little too rigid, mouth a lot too tight.

She'd been afraid of him for a long time, seeing his helpless rage and not knowing where it came from or when it might be directed straight at her instead of brushing past. Now...

Rukia came, soft footed, to sit at his side and rested her head, lightly, on his shoulder.

The shoulder under her tensed and she sighed, closing her eyes. Against the back of the lids she saw the three graves of her first family. "I won't leave you, Nii-sama," she whispered.

After a still moment he stirred, lifting a hand to rest on her hair. He spoke very quietly. "Don't make impossible promises."

"I'm not." Rukia let her eyes follow the sun-sparks on the water. "I might be taken from you. I know that. But I won't leave you."

Nii-sama was still for a moment before he took her shoulder and turned her to face him. He had the most alive look Rukia thought she'd ever seen on his face. Not an entirely happy look; for all that his lips had curved up his eyes were sad. But alive. She lifted a shaking hand and touched her fingertips to his sleeve. He captured the hand in his own.

"Thank you, my sister," he told her, and Rukia bit her lip at the note of warmth buried in that deep voice.

"Nii-sama..." She took a quick breath. "Will you come walk with me, for a little?"

It wasn't until she had him out in the sunshine on the other side of the stream that she let herself grin, for the half-cup of tea he had left haphazardly on the excruciatingly neat floor behind him.

End

Best Friend

If humans can't stay with the shop, then... Humor and Fluff, I-2

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

Finding Home

Seien is re-introduced to the court. Familes are reintroduced to each other. Drama with Fluff, I-4

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

Drink Deep

An encounter under a tree on a sunny afternoon leads to all sorts of new possibilities. Drama with Fluff, I-3

"The Master is home aga—"

Touya looked up with a smile for the news that Sakura was back home safe. He lifted a brow at the expression on Yue's face, though. He wouldn't have thought there was anything alarming about sitting in the shade of a tree and reading, but Yue stood like he'd been turned to stone, staring.

After a few moments, Touya wondered if he should poke him or something.

Finally, though, Yue shook himself and cleared his throat. "She's home again and well."

"Good to know. Well, if you're off duty, quit standing at attention." Touya patted the ground. "Sit down and take a breath."

Yue actually took a step back, and that made Touya pay attention. Yue wasn't often that skittish any more. "Come on," he half-coaxed and half-ordered, holding out a hand. "You can tell me how she liked Hong Kong."

Yue wavered, and for a moment Touya thought he would bolt and return to Yukito, but slowly he did step toward Touya. "She enjoyed it," he said, voice low. "The Li family approved of her, of course."

"Of course," Touya agreed, dryly. If it wasn't enough for them that their son was head over heels in love, Sakura was the Master of the Cards. He kept his hand out. Yue stood beside him, looking at it like it might be dangerous. "Did the Brat come back, too, or did he stay to visit longer?" Touya took Yue's hand, lightly, tugging down.

"He..." Yue sank to his knees. "He returned as well." His eyes were wide, but he didn't pull away.

Touya huffed a short laugh and pulled sideways. "So, did you have fun too?" Yue wavered forward, and Touya kept tugging until Yue half tumbled down to sit beside him against the tree.

"I don't... that is..."

Touya let Yue's hand go and settled back against the tree, looking at his book again. "Or you can complain, if you want, you know," he prompted. "People do that, when they get back from trips."

"...Keroberos was rather loud." And Yue sounded oddly breathless.

Touya smiled. "I bet you didn't get much sleep." After a moment he added, "This is a nice spot for a nap."

"I..." Abruptly, Yue vanished in a flurry of light and feathers and Yukito was sitting next to him instead.

Touya sighed.

"Ah. I thought we might be home." Yuki slipped an arm around Touya and leaned into him. "I'm back," he announced, laughing.

Touya smiled and pulled him closer. "Welcome home. So, did you have a good trip?"

"Of course. It's nice to travel, and Sakura-chan was having so much fun, seeing a new place."

Touya nodded. He'd figured Yuki would enjoy himself; Yuki got along with people wherever he went. Before they got out the vacation pictures, though, he had another question. "I don't suppose you know what would have bugged Yue about me sitting here reading a book?"

Yuki started to shake his head and then paused, frowning. "Hm." He was quiet for a long moment. "I'm not sure," he murmured, at last. "It's like remembering a dream, long after you wake up. But... I think it might have reminded him of something to do with Clow."

"Ah. Of course." Touya made a face. Yue only ever got that flustered when something touched on his past, and catch him talking about it to anyone. He was a little surprised when Yuki kept speaking.

"It was sunny." Yuki's voice was distant. "With cool shadows under a tree. And he wondered about the book, but Clow-san just laughed and told him to take a nap while it was still warm enough out."

Touya winced. Right. So, no telling Yue he should take naps; he'd have to add that to the list. The really long list. He was incredibly glad Yuki had gotten the sweet, outgoing, warm side of those two; if both of them had been prickly and wounded and neurotic, he'd have gone crazy. "That sounds like the opening of a book," he said, leaning down to drop a kiss under Yuki's ear and distract him.

Yuki laughed and turned to catch Touya for a proper kiss, and Touya decided he could think more about Yue later.

It was later the same week that he happened across some loose pages on Yuki's desk, describing the sun and shade and a magician enjoying a lazy afternoon with his familiars. At the top of the first page were the words "Chapter One".

Touya grinned. Who knew? Maybe Yuki wasn't going to wind up in architecture after all.

End

After Frost

Life gets back to normal for Touya. Drama with Fluff, I-3

Between his own need to decide on a career within the next year and the fuss of Sakura's first year of high school, Touya really didn't think the family needed to deal with a Portentous Letter from Hiiragizawa. But that was, unfortunately, what was sitting on the table when he and Yuki arrived, on Saturday.

He scowled at it.

Sakura tore open the outer envelope that it had come in. "...Mizuki-sensei writes a lot, of course, but I haven't heard from Eriol-kun in so long. I hope everything's going well." She shook the inner envelope out onto the table and reached for it.

Touya's nerves twanged and he was grabbing Sakura's hand before he could think.

She started and stared up at him. "Onii-chan?"

"He did something to it," Touya stated. He didn't know what, but he was very sure that something was odd about the letter. And he didn't trust Hiiragizawa any further than he could throw his own motorcycle.

Sakura's brows wrinkled. "But..."

"Check it, Sakura," Li put in, holding a hand over the letter. "I think he's right."

Sakura held out her own fingers to it, eyes drifting closed. After a moment they flashed open again. "It is!" She frowned. "But it doesn't feel..." She picked the envelope up and Touya had to stifle a yelp of protest.

With a bang, tiny confetti-like sparks of light fluttered around them. Sakura and Tou-san laughed, while Touya tried to get his heart started again. Yuki patted him on the back, though he was grinning a bit, too.

Kero-chan snorted. "That's him all over." Then he turned over in midair to try to catch the sparks between his paws.

Sakura paused. "But... Onii-chan, how did you know?" She looked at him with wide eyes. "You don't have... I mean you gave..." she ran down to a flustered halt, nibbling her lip.

Touya rolled his eyes and ruffled her hair. "Don't have any magic. You can say it, Monster." She growled at him, at that, and he laughed. Some things never changed. "I just knew. Well-trained nerves, probably."

"You've known that kind of thing a lot more often lately," Yukito said, softly.

Sakura's hands clasped on each other. "I thought it was for good." Her whole face was brightening like sunrise. "You mean it's coming back?"

Touya frowned. He hadn't expected it, so he hadn't actually thought about it. "I don't know."

"I wondered about that," Li said quietly. The entire room turned to look at him and he lifted a hand palm up. "Magic usually works a lot like chi. It can be depleted. It can get blocked. But to affect the source of it... that takes an incredible amount of power." He smiled at Sakura. "Power like yours, after all your trials taught you to find it." He tipped his head, looking back at Yukito. "Yue was starved for magic when he took Touya-san's. I thought that might have been why it all seemed to go away. But I couldn't imagine where Yue had found the power to affect the root of Touya's magic that way."

"Huh." Touya rubbed a hand over the back of his head, surprised by how calm he felt about all this; losing his magic had been a serious shock. Shouldn't regaining it be at least a little strange? "Well, I guess we'll see."

"Hm."

They looked at Tou-san, who was reading the letter with a faint smile.

"I think we can assume that it's true." Tou-san chuckled and read out loud. "'We will be returning to Japan soon; Kaho has had an excellent job offer there. Incidentally Kaho says that congratulations are likely in order for Touya-kun. I'm pleased to hear that my speculations were correct. Sincerely, Eriol.'"

Sakura clapped her hands and flung her arms around Touya's neck. "That's wonderful!"

"Ack!" Touya fielded his sister, catching the corner of the table for balance. She was still short, but a lot bigger than she had been a few years ago.

He also spared a moment to be thankful that Tou-san didn't have any memories of being such a close-mouthed bastard to influence him.

"Okay, great, good news, now how about if we get started on lunch?" he suggested, putting Sakura down firmly.

Kero-chan perked up instantly. "There's going to be tamago-yaki, right? Sakura said there would be! Tamago-yaki!"

Yeah, he could always count on the bath sponge.

In the bustle of getting ingredients out and deciding who would chop and who would stir and who got to set the table, Yuki touched Touya's arm and leaned close. "I'm glad. So is Yue, I think."

"You're sure both of you are all right?" Touya murmured.

Yuki smiled. "I'm sure. I asked, a few months back. I think he thinks we're drawing on Sakura-chan's magic, now, so yours can build back up."

Touya eyed that smile and sighed, ruefully. It was hard to tell when Yuki was being clueless and when he was just enjoying being a step ahead; they looked a lot the same. He brushed Yuki's cheek gently with the backs of his fingers. "If you're all right, then that's all that matters."

He thought twice about that, he had to admit, when Kaa-san appeared after lunch, laughing, saying she'd have to be more careful about hovering over him now that he could catch her doing it again.

But even then, he thought it was still pretty much true.

End

Irrigation

Soi is worn out from work and Yoruichi comes to visit. Drama with Fluffiness, I-3

Soi sank to the floor by her writing desk with more of a thump than she would have permitted herself anywhere but her own rooms. Her eyes slid wearily over the report that she had left half-written, there; she should finish it tonight. Well, perhaps another paragraph, at least. She rubbed the back of her hand over eyes that insisted on drooping.

Perhaps she'd feel better after she got out of uniform.

She managed to knot the ties of her yukata decently and got about half way through undoing one of her braids before she ran out of energy again.

"Look who's wilted! Will it help if we put your feet in water?"

Soi jumped half out of her skin, but didn't make it more than a few inches around before her visitor wrapped an arm around her shoulders from behind, laughing in her ear. Soi slumped. "Yoruichi-sama," she murmured. Strike one more set of intruder tell-tales that obviously didn't work well enough.

"Your hair will snarl if you leave it like that," Yoruichi-sama told her, plucking the half-unraveled braid out of Soi's fingers. Soi blushed a little, but sat meekly while Yoruichi-sama undid her hair with swift, warm hands. "What's going on that's got you so worn out?"

"What isn't?" Soi sighed, brushing her fingers over the pages of her report. "It almost seems like..." she bit her lip.

Yoruichi-sama reached past her for her comb. "Hm?"

"Like the Captain-General is losing control," Soi finished, softly. She didn't like the thought; it meant that she must have failed in her duty. But... "Some of the Captains are getting very involved in politics," she admitted. "And nothing has stopped them. Not warnings, not lectures, not keeping them busy with assignments. I haven't been ordered to act against them directly, but..." She twisted her fingers together in her lap.

"If you're ordered to do that, it will mean war within Soul Society, worse than last time." The flat tone in Yoruichi-sama's voice contradicted the gentle stroke of the comb through Soi's hair. "And the Captain-General has no right to give you such an order without the decision of the Forty-Six. The Onmitsukidou are not under him."

"Does it count if it's the decision of the Sixteen?" Soi asked, bitterly. And then bit her lip again; that wasn't becoming to her position...

Yoruichi-sama chuckled, and patted her shoulder. "Exactly. You're learning, girl."

Soi ignored the tug of the comb to turn and give her superior a scolding look. "Yoruichi-sama..." But Yoruichi-sama only grinned, teeth gleaming in the dusk, and Soi sighed. "And then there's Kuchiki," she added, one exasperation reminding her of another.

"Which one?" Yoruichi-sama pushed her back around and resumed combing, separating Soi's hair to make a single braid.

"Both of them!" Soi glared at the wall, aggravated. "But Rukia mostly. I just don't know what she's doing."

"Getting pregnant?" Yoruichi-sama suggested. Soi could hear the smirk. "Has to happen sooner or later, with those two."

Soi sniffed. "Everything but that, it seems." She ticked off on her fingers. "She's been confirmed as the vice-captain of Thirteenth Division, and is still training hard, though at least half of it is in private. She goes for tea, or sake more likely, with Shiba Kuukaku every few weeks, and that's where she met the Commander of the Kidoushuu; they seem to be getting along famously. She's studying our law, of all things, with her brother, though I can't get anyone close enough to tell how far she's gotten in it. And she still makes time to go out with the other vice-captains, and sometimes captains too, and for some reason she's trying to coax Nemu to join in." Soi threw up her hands. "It's like she decided she wants to do over her time in the Academy!"

"The advanced course, maybe," Yoruichi-sama murmured, plaiting Soi's hair snugly. "What's Byakuya doing to annoy you?"

Soi rubbed her eyes again. Yoruichi-sama's hands were soothing, and her eyes were starting to get heavy. "He's... just waiting. He must know, by now, that he's the most likely choice for Captain-General, when Yamamoto-san retires. That's the part that really makes me wonder what his sister is doing; and what he's thinking." She tried to stifle a yawn.

"There, now." Yoruichi-sama rested a hand on Soi's shoulder. "I said you were learning, didn't I?" The hand guided her firmly down, and Soi was sufficiently tired not to wonder too much about the odd lap-like shape her pillow seemed to have transformed into. Yoruichi-sama's hand, stroking her hair, lulled her into sleep even as she mumbled a protest about finishing her report...

Soi woke up when the sun from her open window started to shine in her eyes. Leaning up on her elbow she found that she'd been tucked up on her futon. And that Yoruichi-sama was gone again. And, as the breeze fluttered pages on her desk, that her report was completed.

At the end, in her own handwriting, was a suggestion that Hitsugaya Toushirou be considered for the position of Captain-General.

The new note, tucked under her inkstone, was in Yoruichi-sama's hand.

"That should confuse them all enough to slow them down. Hurry and catch up!"

Soi pressed the note to her cheek and smiled.

End

If Only

Seiran can't really help giving Ryuuki anything he needs. Second fic written for Porn Battle, with the prompt: Seiran/Ryuuki, Domination/submission, “If things had gone as they should…if Seien had been my Lord…” Porn with Fluff, I-4, D/s

Notes: Contains consensual sibling incest.

"Ryuuki? You shouldn't be out here in nothing but a sleeping robe."

Ryuuki looked up from watching the dark water over the rail of the pavilion and had to smile. Seiran wasn't wearing any more than he was. "Doesn't that go for you, too?"

"I only came looking for you, not to stand out, contemplating the reflection of the moon." Seiran came to stand beside him, winding a warm arm around him.

"I just couldn't sleep," Ryuuki murmured, leaning into his brother. "Do you ever think... what if everything had gone like it should?"

For a long moment there was no answer; when it came it made Ryuuki shiver because the voice beside him was Seien's, sure and firm, the voice of a leader. "You rule well. Don't doubt that."

Ryuuki ducked his head. "I don't." At least not too often. "I just..." He turned, resting his hands against Seiran's chest, head bowed. "I wish I could have seen you rule. Served you as my Emperor." Demonstrated, every day, what his brother meant to him.

"Ryuuki." Seiran's voice was husky in the silvery dark. Intimate, and Ryuuki flushed a little to think that. He looked up with wide eyes as Seiran's arm tightened around him, pulling him close.

"Aniue..."

Seiran's hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing over Ryuuki's lips. "Be still."

A shiver of heat ran down Ryuuki's spine and he swallowed, silent, as his brother ordered. He couldn't help a small, breathless moan, though, as Seiran tipped his chin up and took thorough possession of his mouth. He could see Seiran was smiling as he drew back.

"Turn around."

A swift shudder ran through Ryuuki as he did, and found himself caught between a pillar of the pavilion and the breadth of Seiran's chest against his back. Another shook him harder as Seiran's hands moved slowly over his body, loosening his robe, sliding down his stomach to take him firmly in hand.

"Perhaps you can see enough, this way, to satisfy you," Seiran purred against Ryuuki's bare shoulder, gathering Ryuuki's robe up over his hips.

Ryuuki moaned, clinging to the pillar for support at the feeling of Seiran's cock sliding between his cheeks. He made a wordless, entreating sound, flushed in the darkness.

"Stay there," Seiran commanded softly, stepping away toward the benches and the table with it's unlit lamp. Ryuuki did as his brother said, breathless and heated as he stood exposed to the night breeze and his brother's pleasure. And then Seiran was pressing against his back again, hands closing on Ryuuki's hips, and his cock was pushing into Ryuuki, slick and hard and relentless.

Ryuuki moaned, unable to catch his breath as Seiran thrust into him again and again, strong hands holding Ryuuki still for it. The warmth of his brother's body, caging him against the pillar, the coolness of the breeze on his bare skin, the heat of Seiran's cock stretching him open and filling him over and over, they all twined together into pleasure that wrung him out mercilessly and left him panting. He made soft, pleading sounds as Seiran drove him up against the pillar harder, tiny shocks of heat still dancing down his nerves.

Seiran groaned against Ryuuki's shoulder, his last thrusts so hard they made Ryuuki's breath catch. Even once he stilled, he held Ryuuki in place, hands stroking over him. "Sometimes," he murmured at last, "I wish this could be all there was. Just you and me."

"Yes," Ryuuki whispered, husky and wanting.

Seiran's arms closed around him, drawing him back snugly into the shelter of his brother's chest. "Since we can't have this all the time, remember that we can have it some of the time." He turned Ryuuki to face him and kissed him, slow and deep.

Ryuuki leaned into it, mouth open and soft under his brother's. "Yes, Aniue."

End

Through the Sleepless Nights

Hisagi gets a chance to speak with Kensei after the final battle. Written for Porn Battle, with the prompt: Kensei/Shuuhei, second meeting. Drama with Fluff, I-3, Spoilers for the Turn Back arc

The first time Hisagi Shuuhei met Muguruma Kensei it had been in the aftermath of a fight. Maybe it was fate that their second meeting was also the end of a battle. To Shuuhei, it felt a little like a chance to start again.

"Muguruma-taichou... I mean..." And to put his foot in his mouth again, apparently. Shuuhei cleared his throat and settled on, "Muguruma-san."

Muguruma's mouth quirked fleetingly, and he glanced down at his very civilian clothes. "Yeah, not a captain any more. Heard you were, though." He clapped a hand on Shuuhei's shoulder. "Good work."

Shuuhei made a throw-away gesture. "Only acting."

Muguruma's hand turned over, knuckles rapping Shuuhei's shoulder. "Hey. None of that. Have some pride in yourself." His smile flashed again. "Not that I'm in a position to chew you out any more, I guess."

"That's not true!" Shuuhei flushed as Muguruma's brows rose, and he glanced down. "I remembered you," he said, quietly. "I'm here because I wanted to live up to what I remembered."

Muguruma's gaze traveled over Shuuhei's cropped sleeves, the leather bands around his right am and throat. Finally his fingers rose to brush over the 69 on Shuuhei's cheekbone. "Yeah?" His voice was husky. "I'm glad. We didn't think anyone in Soul Society remembered us well."

Shuuhei turned his head just a little into Muguruma's hand, aware his ears were probably bright red. "Some of us did."

Muguruma glanced over to where Nanao was talking to Yadomaru, book clasped tight to her chest, eyes bright, and his smile lasted a little longer this time. "So I see." His hand cupped Shuuhei's cheek for a breath, thumb stroking Shuuhei's cheekbone. "Well, come on then. Tell me about it while we get this mess cleaned up."

Shuuhei noticed the stares of his division, as he walked next to the man he'd once thought would be his captain, and knew he was smiling too.

End

Reach and Grasp

Shin and Sena have a roll in the grass, both literally and figuratively. Written for Porn Battle, with the prompts: Shin/Sena - the smell of fresh grass and Shin/Sena, size differences. Porn with Fluff, I-4

"Ooof!"

Sena huffed the heavy scent of the grass out of his nose and smiled wryly. Shin-san was more careful when they were just playing around with no padding, but getting tackled was still getting tackled.

"If you cut inside my line, you need to make it tighter," Shin-san said in his ear. "Otherwise you're at just the right distance to catch."

And Shin-san was never really just playing.

Sena nodded, still a shade breathless. "Yes, I see." And then Shin-san's hand started to slide away from his chest and he got a lot more breathless. There really was a difference, without their full uniforms, and he couldn't help squirming just a little, under the weight of Shin-san's body.

Shin-san paused. "Sena?" His hand stopped and spread out against Sena's stomach. "Do you want me to?"

Sena blushed hotly. Shin-san just out and said things like that! Sena cleared his throat and murmured, "Um. Yes?"

Shin-san also didn't waste time and Sena gasped as warm fingers undid his pants and slid them down. The short grass tickled his bare skin, but only until Shin-san's hand moved in. Sena pushed back into Shin-san's body and spread his knees wider, hot with the feeling of that large, powerful hand between his legs. "Mmm. Shin-san."

Shin-san nibbled on his ear and Sena laughed. Any way Shin-san touched him felt good, but it was the little things like that, the ones that were actually playful, that made him happiest. And when Shin-san's whole body covered him and strong fingers wrapped around his cock, it made heat shiver down Sena's spine. Feeling Shin-san's hips grind against his rear, and Shin-san's cock sliding between his cheeks, Sena finally moaned out loud. "Shin-san... the bags. Are they close enough...?"

Shin-san stretched out an arm and Sena was, right at this moment, really glad that Shin-san had such a long reach. "Yes." Shin-san's tongue ran up his neck one more time. "Hang on a minute."

Sena thought, a little light-headedly, that Shin-san was the one hanging on to him, even as he rummaged through the bags, but he wasn't quite far gone enough to say that out loud. When Shin-san's fingers worked into his ass, slow and slick, the words unraveled anyway, and Sena just panted for breath, hips flexing a little between those fingers and the strong hand between his legs. When Shin-san's fingers curved and pleasure spiked through him, Sena's reserve finally gave way.

"Nn, Shin-san, fuck me!" Later he would blush over that, but right now all he felt was Shin-san's hands and Shin-san's mouth against his neck, lips curving slightly.

"Okay."

The hand between his legs tightened, lifting his hips higher, and then Shin-san's cock was pushing into him and Sena just sprawled in the grass, moaning as it stretched and filled him. He gasped, breathless, as Shin-san slid out and back in, fucking him slowly; he loved the feeling of this, the hardness of Shin-san's body braced over his, the brush of Shin-san's chest against his back, the heavy heat of Shin-san's cock in his ass. Words tumbled out of his mouth, more and yes and good, and Shin-san drove into him deep and hard until hot pleasure wrung Sena out and left him panting.

Shin-san's slow, hard thrusts never hitched, and he fucked the tightness of Sena's body until Sena was limp and moaning under him. When Shin-san came, Sena only knew because of the way he gasped, the way his arms curled tight around Sena. Sena smiled and closed his arms over Shin-san's so he wouldn't pull away, and they lay in the warm grass like that for a while.

Sena couldn't imagine getting a whole lot more content than he was right now.

He did kind of hope that he didn't play Shin-san on turf, this year, because he had a bad feeling that going down nose-first into the smell of cut grass would cause some embarrassing reactions after today.

When Shin-san's mouth brushed the nape of his neck, though, he decided it would be worth it.

End

Ice Is Also Great and Would Suffice

Post Soul Society arc, Rukia has to deal with lingering injuries and Byakuya finds old habits of care returning. Fluff with Angst, I-4, mild spoilers

The gardens of Kuchiki House were beautiful and manicured, and Rukia had had to search through them for nearly an hour to find a stand of dark-leaved shrubs tall and bushy enough to hide her. She didn't want any of the servants asking if there was anything they could do for her, Rukia-sama, making it clear that a lady of Kuchiki was not supposed to be kneeling in the cold grass, arms clutched around herself, shaking hard enough to rattle her teeth.

She knew that. She just couldn't help it.

It had been coming for days; she'd felt it like a presence standing behind her shoulder, stepping closer and closer again until it merged with her backbone and unstrung her. She didn't know why it was now, why this hadn't happened when she was locked away or about to die or at some other time that made sense. She just knew she couldn't hold it back any more, and a few hot tears spilled over as her breath rasped harshly in her lungs.

The rustle of leaves and cloth told her her last bid for privacy and dignity had failed and she hunched closer in on herself, stubbornly not looking around.

Not, at least, until two sandals under a familiar hem stepped into her view and she looked up, half despairing, at the very last person she had wanted to see. Her brother stood, looking down at her, still and silent, and she bit her lip until it bled, trying to silence the choked whimpers in her throat. When he stirred, at last, she was sure it would be to turn his back on her lack of control.

He knelt beside her, sleeves sweeping out around her as he gathered her in and held her, silently, against his shoulder.

It was warm.

Rukia pressed her face into the fabric of his kimono, shoulders shaking with her muffled sobs. If he had said any word, long habit might have caught her back, but he only held her, hand spread against her back, over her heart, shielded for this moment from the rest of the world. So she cried for the cold pain in her bones and the fear that it would never leave—cried until she could barely breathe, could only lie against his chest, every muscle trembling and wrung out, as light fingers stroked her hair.

The sleep that had escaped her for a week crept up and wrapped around her like her brother's sleeves.

When Rukia's breathing finally eased, Byakuya sighed faintly. He had known she was distraught, but he had thought it was only the nerves anyone could expect after the battles she had fought. Such things eased in a little time. This appeared more to be work for a healer then a friend's comfort or family's presence.

Well, that was easily enough seen to, now he knew.

He lifted his sister in his arms and carried her carefully back through the house, a look forbidding the servants to question or follow. When he tried to lay her down on her futon, though, he met a check.

She wouldn't let go.

After a few gentle tugs failed, he snorted softly. As stubborn as his sister was, he supposed he might have expected this, and since no one was here to see he let himself smile.

She was well matched to Kuchiki, though she might not know it even now.

He sat down against the wall and settled her securely against him, leaning back to wait out her sleep.

The late sunlight slanted outside the opened screens, burnishing smooth wood boards and dancing lightly over the grass. He had given her this room because the view from it was open and airy, suited, he'd thought, to her spirit. He still thought it suited her, but now for different reasons. Now he noticed the trunk of the tree growing over the pool, slender but strong; the cool shadows and bright, rippling glints of the water; the birds that winged fearlessly down to peck at a scatter of crumbs from, he identified after a moment, the dumplings that had been served for lunch.

The place did suit her, he thought, fingers moving slowly through her hair.

The peace of the afternoon was more than he had found in weeks, perhaps in far longer, and he stirred, frowning sharply as the inner door slid open. Who dared disturb them?

Unohana-taichou stood in the opening for a moment, delicate brows lifted, before nodding to someone in the hall and closing the door softly behind her.

"I see I didn't need to worry after all," she murmured.

Byakuya stifled a moment of annoyance at the gentle amusement in her eyes and kept his voice down. "On the contrary. I intended to send for one of your people as soon as Rukia woke." And then he really heard what she had said and frowned more darkly. "You knew something was wrong?"

Unohana-taichou knelt down beside them with a soft sigh. "Of course I knew. She was locked in a tower made of stone that suppresses spirit strength, for weeks." She frowned a bit, herself. "It's intended to make criminals of such weight as to merit that punishment more... biddable, at the end. The lingering effects are not normally an issue." She reached out a hand, and Byakuya stiffened, but she didn't touch Rukia. Only held her fingers close as if testing for heat.

"As I feared." Unohana-taichou leaned back again.

"What?" Byakuya asked, tensely.

Unohana-taichou's lips curved in a sad smile. "We who live here are pure spirit, Kuchiki-kun. That tower smothers our souls, like fire starved of air."

Byakuya's arms tightened around his sister as his mouth tightened on furious accusations. Unohana was not the one he should direct those to.

Her smile turned softer. "Don't worry too much. She is healing. And you have helped her, already, almost as much as I could myself."

Byakuya had to blink at that, nonplussed. He had no talent for healing.

Unohana-taichou stood and looked down at them, hands folded. "You are a powerful captain, and you hold her within your soul." Her lips quirked. "And she has the wisdom not to let go." She slipped silently back out the door while Byakuya was still fighting down the quick flush he hadn't felt in many years.

He sniffed and settled himself back again, holding his sister close as evening settled over the garden outside.

Rukia woke slowly, feeling warm and happy. For a time she thought it might be a dream, as she hadn't felt either for quite some time now, and clung to sleep, wanting the warmth to stay. It didn't go away as she woke, though, and slowly she became aware that she was leaning on something. Something that moved gently under her cheek.

As if it were breathing.

"Renji...?" she mumbled, confused, and rubbed her eyes. She hadn't seen Renji today, had she? She pushed herself upright and looked up and froze.

Her brother looked back, calmly.

"Nii-sama? I..." And then she remembered hiding in the garden, and her brother finding her, and flushed hotly, raw cheeks tingling with the rush of blood. "Excuse me, I..." She fumbled for some suitable words of explanation or pardon and found none.

"You are well, now?"

"Of course," she murmured quickly. Rukia wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment; she'd have thought she'd have found out before now, if so, but maybe not. She glanced hastily around, looking for some way to extract herself from the situation.

Her brother's fingers caught her chin, stilling her. "Rukia. Are you well?"

She looked back at him, eyes wide. He sounded serious. She was suddenly aware of the dim, sunset light, and that hours must have passed while she slept.

While she slept and he held her. The warmth of that hadn't gone away; it was still with her, easing the long ache away.

Tears threatened to spill over again, for different reasons this time, and Rukia took a deep breath. Her voice only trembled a little when she said, "I'm better, Nii-sama."

He nodded. "Good." He lifted her and set her down on her spread futon, touching her shoulder lightly as he stood and looked out her outer doors. "Perhaps," he said, "I will come watch your garden with you again tomorrow."

"I... I would welcome that, Nii-sama," Rukia managed, husky.

A faint smile crossed his lips as he looked down at her and repeated, "Good." His fingers brushed her hair as he turned and left.

Rukia scrubbed the back of her hand over her eyes again and laughed softly, shakily.

She was warm again.

End

A/N: Title is from the poem Fire and Ice by Robert Frost.

Deeper than Love

Ryuuki is still pining for Shuurei and Ensei talks sense to him. In the wake of this, Seiran makes his final choice of loyalty. Drama with Fluff, I-3

Friendship

The evening was lovely, out in the pavilions by the water. Clear and warm, a perfect evening for drinking.

Ensei felt very in need of the drink.

"Of course she loves you." He leaned back on the pavilion bench and passed the sake bottle back over to his Emperor. "Thing is... you're asking her to not love all of you."

"Huh?" Ryuuki blinked eyes that were a little redder than the alcohol could account for at him and Ensei sighed. He wished Seiran would hurry up and get back from Kou province. This was a big brother's job, wasn't it?

"Look," he said, lacing his hands around one knee, "you want her to see you as just Ryuuki, right? Not as the Emperor at all?"

Ryuuki nodded vigorously and Ensei snagged the bottle back for another swig.

"But the fact is, you are the Emperor. So 'just Ryuuki'... well, that isn't all of you, is it? Do you really want her to just love part of you?"

"Well, no, but..." Ryuuki chewed his lip.

"Besides, this is Shuurei we're talking about," Ensei pressed on. "Would you want her to forget everything outside the Inner Courts? Would you want her to never talk to you about policy and which bureaus are doing what, and what she thinks you should do about the great families?"

Ryuuki shook his head even more vigorously than he'd nodded, hair swishing wildly. "No, no! That's what makes her so wonderful! The things she sees and thinks about and how determined she is and all the good things she dreams to do and—"

"And," Ensei cut in firmly, "those are all the things that remind her you're the Emperor." And the things that made her Shuurei, and it would be a crime to take those away, in his informed opinion.

Ryuuki looked stricken, and Ensei winced. Okay, maybe it was a good thing Seiran wasn't back yet, to throw him into the lake for making Ryuuki look like that, no matter how good the cause. More gently, he added, "If those are all the things that make you love her, then you don't really want her to stop being and doing all of them, right?"

"Oh." Ryuuki's voice was a whisper, and his hair hid his face when he lowered his head.

Ensei sighed. He really hated to do this, but better him than Shuurei, who, he would bet all his fancy certifications, wouldn't be able to lay it out plainly enough, and then the two silly children would just go dancing around the whole mess again. "Come on." He tucked the bottle away, pretty sure he'd want it again later, and pulled his Emperor's arm over his shoulders, steering him back toward his bedroom. "Time to sleep. Sleep will make you feel better."

He hoped he wasn't lying.

Ryuuki stumbled along beside him, and Ensei barely caught the whisper, "Not her. Then who?"

He pressed his lips together tight. He really, really hoped Seiran got back soon.

Blood

Seiran didn't like leaving the court, these days. Things always seemed to get cluttered and messy in his absence, and then he had to spend days on end cleaning them up.

This time, though, he didn't think he'd be able to fix things just by throwing Ensei in the lake or looming over Shuurei's newest suitor until he was suitably intimidated. Not that he didn't dunk Ensei anyway on general principles, once he heard the story.

After the third time Ryuuki insisted, with a painful smile, that everything was fine, Seiran decided it was time for drastic measures and went to find that old goat Shou.

The old goat gave him a surprised look. "And what business could a guardsman have with me?"

"Don't give me that nonsense," Seiran rapped out, staring straight ahead as they paced down the breezeway. "Tell me. Is Ryuuki secure enough on the throne for my identity to be known?"

Shou's eyes sharpened. "Hm." After several long moments he said, "You would make yourself the target of intrigue. But for those who suspect, you are that already. I think it would have no worse effect than your observed behavior toward the Emperor has already led to."

Seiran stifled a snarl at that not very veiled accusation of carelessness. "You already have your assurance, then, that I have only my brother's good in mind," he returned, instead, coolly.

Shou had the nerve to smirk. "Indeed."

One of these days, Seiran swore, he was going to strangle the manipulative old goat. "Prepare for it then," he ordered and turned abruptly aside, making for Ryuuki's office.

Seiran stood outside the doors of the audience hall and listened to the faint murmurs from within as the nobles and officials whispered to each other. It was a typical Court, so far, decrees and trifles of acclaim for this or that service, and only those most involved paid attention.

That was about to change.

Ryuuki's voice rose again. "Last, We summon Seiran of the Guard to come before Us."

Seiran allowed himself a grim smile at the inquiring hitch to the murmurs, before smoothing his expression and stepping inside. Silence spread out behind him as he made his way to the foot of the Imperial dais, where Ryuuki stood, with measured steps. Today he did not wear the armor of the Guard. His armor today was chased and enameled.

The colors were purple.

Passing the last rank of courtiers, he allowed himself a tiny encouraging smile up at Ryuuki before kneeling, just enough to get them both through this, and was relieved. The gold threads of the Imperial finery winked faintly, as if Ryuuki trembled, but his eyes were steady.

"We would have it known," Ryuuki announced into the silence, voice clear and ringing, "that the one known as Shi Seiran, of the Guard, is also Shi Seien, Our brother. We are pleased to welcome him home, to stand at Our side."

As Seiran raised his head, Ryuuki held out his hands, offering, summoning, and Seiran had to swallow back a catch in his throat as he rose and climbed the stairs. He knelt again, smiling up at Ryuuki, and took his hands.

"It is my honor to stand at your side, my Emperor," he declared in just the same carrying voice they had both been taught for official occasions. "It is my honor to serve you."

Ryuuki nodded and stepped back to resume his throne, and Seiran stood and turned, taking his place beside and behind the throne, planned and smooth. They stood, looking out over the Court as whispers rose again, a united icon.

All this, Seiran reflected to himself, only to prepare for his real goal.

He stood calm and stoic through the end of court, joined the little cavalcade of Emperor and advisors as Ryuuki left, and let the courtiers look their fill. When the gossip about the brilliant second prince revived, he wanted it to run straight into this image, of him armed and armored and not in any formal robes, guarding his younger brother's back.

Let them remember that.

He wasn't really accustomed to this game anymore, though, and sighed with relief as he pulled the door of Ryuuki's office shut behind them all. Ryuuki looked around at that, and Seiran's heart squeezed at the fragile hope in Ryuuki's face, the hesitant, silent way his lips formed the word, "Aniue."

"Ryuuki." Seiran smiled and held out his arms, bracing himself to catch his brother as Ryuuki positively dove into them. "Ryuuki," he repeated, softly, cradling his brother close and protective, savoring the fierce rightness of it.

"Aniue." It was out loud, this time, shaking like Ryuuki's whole body was.

"I'm here," Seiran soothed, petting his brother's hair. He lifted his eyes for a moment to check on Ryuuki's advisors; if they couldn't accept this, there would be trouble. Shuuei looked amused, which Seiran supposed he might have expected, and Kouyuu looked a little uncomfortable and a little envious, but his smile was soft. That would do. Seiran gave Shuuei a cold, warning look, and Shuuei stopped looking amused and looked rueful instead, possibly remembering the expression from his visits to Shuurei. That would do also. Seiran turned his attention back to his brother and murmured against his bright hair, "I'm proud of you."

Ryuuki looked up, flushed and happy, eyes bright. "Aniue." Seiran smiled and kissed his forehead gently, and wiped Ryuuki's face with the end of his sash, the way he used to do, which made Ryuuki laugh.

"I'll always be here," Seiran told his brother. "Now. There's work to do, yes?"

"Mm." Ryuuki nodded, smiling, and turned willingly enough to his desk.

Seiran settled by the door, watching as the day's work picked up, waiting to see how he should fit himself into it. Ensei was right, he reflected, he had made his choice and, in the end, it was not for Shuurei.

Seeing his brother smile properly again, he didn't regret it.

End

Machinations

Mokkun gets in a snit, and Masahiro takes advantage of this. Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Guren/Masahiro, not a pet. Porn with Fluff, I-4

It was amazing how hard someone as small as Mokkun could stomp.

"Can't believe... total idiot... pet..."

Masahiro sighed. "Come on, Mokkun," he interrupted the grumbling. "He didn't realize you were a mononoke, so I had to tell him something."

Mokkun's silky tail lashed. "I am not a mononoke!" He glared up at Masahiro as they walked—and stomped—down the breezeway to Masahiro's rooms.

"Yes, but you look like one," Masahiro pointed out, sliding his door closed behind them. "And we're just lucky you also look a bit like a fox otherwise we'd just have wasted time trying to calm the man down."

There was a flash of red and Guren stalked back and forth across his room. "I am not a pet," he growled.

Masahiro grinned. Finally. "Nope, you're not." He stepped into Guren's path and wound his arms around him.

Guren blinked down at him. "What?" His hands came to rest easily on Masahiro's back.

Masahiro laughed. "You're not a pet. You just spend a lot of time as Mokkun." His eyes danced as he leaned against Guren. "You're harder to kiss, that way."

After a long moment, Guren stated, half disbelieving, "You did that on purpose."

"Just a little," Masahiro admitted. "Besides, you're cute when you're Mokkun and annoyed."

"You are definitely Seimei's grandson," Guren told him, dryly. Masahiro sniffed at that, and Guren chuckled and drew him closer, leaning down to kiss him. Since that was exactly what Masahiro wanted, he made a contented sound and didn't bother to protest further.

Guren's hands were still large on his body as he carefully undid Masahiro's robes and slid them away, though not as large as they had seemed years ago. The years had also taught Masahiro where the fastenings of Guren's armor were and he sighed with pleasure when they were finally skin to skin.

"It's much easier to hug you without all that," he murmured into Guren's shoulder.

"I could go back to being Mokkun, if you want to hug me," Guren teased, voice low, and chuckled at Masahiro's glare.

"Don't you dare." Masahiro twined his arms around Guren's neck and pulled him down to another kiss, for emphasis. Guren answered him quite satisfyingly this time, and eased him down onto his bed.

"So?" Guren leaned over him, brushing his hair back, smiling the way he only did for Masahiro. "What do you want, tonight?"

It still made Masahiro blush just a little to say out loud, but he'd decided that, if it made Guren happy to give him exactly what he wanted, the least he could do was say what that was. "I want..." he wet his lips, "I want to feel you. Inside me."

"Anything," Guren murmured, gathering him closer. He kissed and stroked him until Masahiro was pressed tight up against him, making soft, wanting sounds, and finally turned him gently, rolling the quilt up under his hips.

Masahiro sighed, and then laughed as Guren traced delicate, teasing patterns over his rear with his claws. "Guren!"

"Hm?" Guren inquired innocently, and, before Masahiro could answer, spread his cheeks open and dragged a slow tongue between them.

Masahiro moaned, a slow shudder of heat rolling through him and leaving him lax as Guren worked his entrance with wet laps and thrusts. He loved the way Guren prepared him.

He loved it more, though, when Guren's body covered his, hot and solid against his back, sheltering him. Strong arms wound around him and he snuggled back into Guren's chest with a soft gasp as Guren's cock rubbed between his cheeks. "Mmm, Guren..."

"Yes," Guren murmured in his ear, husky, and Masahiro moaned again as Guren's cock pushed into him, thick and hard, stretching and filling him.

It felt so good, feeling Guren in him, with him, cradling him in his arms as they moved together and heat braided through his nerves, and there was nothing at all to keep him from letting go because Guren had him safe.

The way Guren gasped his name might be the best part of all.

They lay together for some time, catching their breaths, before Guren said, "You know, if you want me to change forms, all you have to do is say."

Masahiro grinned. "But teasing you is more fun. Besides," he added, when Guren growled against his shoulder, "I know how much you like being Mokkun."

Guren was quiet at that, for a bit, and finally kissed Masahiro's neck. "I like being what you need," he said, softly.

Masahiro turned in his arms and held him tight.

"You are."

End

Kiss for a Lifetime

Anzu wants someone she can understand. Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Anzu/Shizuka, hand-holding, the very first time. Fluffy Romance, I-3

It took her a while to come to grips with it. After all, Yuugi was the sweetest boy she knew and his other self was, well, he was exciting. But the fact was, she didn't understand them, any of them, and she wasn't at all sure that Duelists understood normal people, either.

And the thought of kissing someone she didn't understand made her twitch.

And Honda was a goof, and Otogi-kun was too close to a Duelist in his own ways, and Mokuba was a cute kid but he was way too young!

Shizuka, though... Shizuka was sweet and brave and amazingly strong, after all just look at all she'd been through without ever even flinching. And Shizuka smiled at her and leaned against Anzu's shoulder when she laughed, and took her hand so trustingly it made her want to hold the girl close and protect her from the whole world and listen while Shizuka told her what courage looked like.

Not the courage of dragons and swords, but the courage of reaching for an earthly dream and standing firm under earthly sadness.

And that, she supposed, was how she'd come to be holding Shizuka, marveling at how slight she felt in her arms, feeling warm arms slipping around her neck, and kissing Shizuka as gentle and slow as she knew how.

Which wasn't very much yet, the knowing that was, but it was their first time, after all. They'd get better.

Although, looking at Shizuka's shy smile, feeling the softness of Shizuka's hair under her fingers, she wasn't actually sure that was possible.

End

Nine Years, Eleven Months, Twenty-seven Days

On the anniversary of something that doesn't happen, Tsuna's Guardians gather around him. Fluffy Drama, I-3

Yamamoto was the first one who came, tapping brisk but quiet on the door and slipping inside, shadows falling across his face. He said nothing, only came to Tsuna and wrapped around him, a shield of muscle and bone and breath. Tsuna rested his forehead against Yamamoto's chest with a low sigh. He didn't know whether he wanted them here or not, but he knew he couldn't send them away. Not tonight.

Gokudera came next, head lowered, every movement pulled tight. He didn't look at either of them, only sank down to sit at Tsuna's feet, one arm locked around a raised knee. A slender, red stick turned unceasingly through his fingers.

Hibari ignored them when he stalked through the door and came to stand beside the window, eyes gleaming and sharp on the night beyond.

The city lights gleamed on Lambo's horns as he settled on the balcony outside.

Ryouhei planted himself at the door, arms crossed, with a fierce expression but sad eyes. He nodded to Chrome as she entered and stood silently in the corner across from Hibari, staff upright between her hands.

They waited and watched.

Pre-dawn was drowning the streetlights when Tsuna stirred. "It's all right, now," he told them softly.

There was a husky sound from Gokudera and Yamamoto's arms tightened for one quick moment.

They left as quietly as they'd come, and Tsuna only hoped they'd sleep now. One by one, with a nod or a swift touch, they unwound themselves from around him until only Hibari was left still watching as Tsuna finally made his way to bed. The line of his back, poised and uncompromising, followed Tsuna down into dreams.

End

What's Love Got to Do With It

The Ninth helps Xanxus find someone he can bear to be. Drama with Angst and Fluff, I-3

It wasn't that Tsuna didn't trust the Ninth, because of course he did. And it wasn't that he didn't think the Ninth could handle Xanxus, even, or especially, now, because he did, really. It was just... well, his dad had made him solemnly swear he'd make sure the Ninth didn't overstrain himself.

And that was really the only reason Tsuna kept just happening to pass Xanxus' rooms or the balcony beyond them to check on them every couple days.

His excuses hadn't even convinced himself yet, and he doubted he'd convince either of them, so he tip-toed.

"...didn't you just tell me?" Xanxus' voice was stifled and he was leaning, hands clenched, on the back of an armchair. "Why'd you let me keep thinking I was your kid, all that time?"
The Ninth sighed. "Because I didn't think it would matter."

Xanxus shoulders twitched and Tsuna held his breath.

"It seemed obvious you had to have Vongola blood from somewhere, even if it wasn't mine," the Ninth said, softly. "Your Flame was all the proof anyone needed of that. And who cared how far back it came from? Look at Tsunayoshi, after all!" He was silent for a long moment before adding, "And I wanted another son. I thought... if I raised you, if I loved you, if I was the father you knew... wasn't that good enough?"

Xanxus didn't answer and Tsuna had to swallow the tightness in his throat as he slipped away.

"It doesn't make sense!"

Xanxus was pacing the balcony today, so Tsuna only eased up to the nearest open window.

"How can he be so damn soft and still do something like this to me?!"

The Ninth actually laughed. "Oh, Xanxus. It's the gentle ones who are most dangerous of all."

Xanxus rounded on his father. "You want to explain that?"

Tsuna caught a glimpse of the Ninth's smile. "Tsunayoshi is a gentle soul, yes. He cares very much for people. And that," he rapped his cane on the flagstones, "that is the source of his strength. When the things he cares for are threatened, there will be no end to his determination and no bottom to the well of his strength." More softly, "And that is why I chose him, be damned to his bloodline."

"Because he's stronger," Xanxus said, after a moment.

"Because of the times and the reasons he becomes stronger," the Ninth corrected, gently.

Xanxus grunted, which might be agreement or might be confusion, Tsuna didn't know. He did know he was blushing as he edged back down the hall.

"It's gone."

Tsuna stopped short, hearing the granite roughness in Xanxus' voice.

"You're still alive and breathing, so I doubt it's really gone," the Ninth said, voice gentle.

Tsuna slipped up to peek out onto the terrace. Xanxus was hunched over, leaning on the rail and the Ninth stood beside him, one hand on his back.

"I've tried," Xanxus growled, raggedly. "I've tried over and over and nothing happens!"

The Ninth looked at his son thoughtfully. "Xanxus. Tell me. The people you knew, as a child. How do you feel about them, now?"

Tsuna saw a little of Xanxus' sudden snarl, even from his angle.

"Those fucking bastards. I hate them. I want to crush them all!" One hand fisted and light flashed between his fingers.

Xanxus jerked upright, and it winked out.

"What the...?"

The Ninth smiled. "I thought so. It isn't gone, my boy."

Xanxus turned, frowning. "But every time I tried..."

The Ninth snorted into his moustache. "You didn't try it with a target who truly deserved your anger, did you?" His voice gentled as he patted Xanxus' shoulder. "Tsunayoshi freed your intuition and showed you the truth, didn't he? That those people aren't the whole world. Hard to unknow that, now; of course it affects your Flame."

"Wish he'd minded his own goddamn business," Xanxus grumbled, though it was half-hearted and distracted as he stared at his own hand.

"I don't." The Ninth smiled up at him. "Because now I have my son back. And he can hear me when I say I love him, this time."

Xanxus looked up at that, a sudden tangle of pain and doubt and hesitant want sweeping over his face.

Tsuna tip-toed away, feeling really hopeful for the first time.

"...and I could have destroyed all of the Family's enemies." Xanxus was pacing again, restless.

"The boss needs to be powerful, yes, and able to protect the Family." The Ninth sipped from his wineglass and set it down on the balcony's table, eyes following his son. "But, as you were then, I'm afraid I doubted you would bother to protect instead of simply destroy."

"It's better to be sure," Xanxus growled. "Better to obliterate your enemies than leave them alive to try again."

"And would even that have made you feel safe?" the Ninth asked, quietly.

Xanxus stopped abruptly and stood still, face turned away.

"A boss' job is to make all his Family safe." The Ninth looked down at his hands. "In that, I failed you. I'm glad Tsunayoshi retrieved my mistake, but... I can't blame you if you find it hard to trust."

After a long moment Xanxus said, voice low, "I never really tried it."

Tsuna's heart cracked at the wryness of the Ninth's smile and the shadow of hope in it, and at how young Xanxus' eyes looked when he turned his head and stared at his father.

"What keeps you safe?" he asked, at last.

The Ninth's smile widened, and he opened his hand, gesturing at the mansion behind them. "Having people who love you near is the safest thing I've ever found."

Xanxus frowned. "Huh."

Tsuna firmly stifled an urge to bang his head against the wall with frustration. They'd hear him if he did.

"...a very simple young man, really," the Ninth was saying as Tsuna sidled up to the balcony door. "He acts because he cares. Once you know that, it's easy to predict what he'll do."

Xanxus snorted, leaning his hips against the rail. "Except for the times he acts on idiot moral outrage, or whatever the hell that was."

"Tsunayoshi would never have set his hand on you if he didn't believe in his heart that you're one of his Family, and worthy of his care," the Ninth said quietly.

Tsuna expected the kind of scoffing Xanxus had always met the least such suggestion with, but Xanxus was silent.

"I don't get how he can," he said at last, staring out over the hills. "I tried to kill him, for fuck's sake."

The Ninth snorted into his moustache. "So did his Mist Guardian, didn't he? And look how that's ended up."

An unwilling grin tugged at Xanxus' mouth.

"I've seen Tsunayoshi arguing with the Vendicare themselves on Rokudou Mukurou's behalf. He's done his best to heal the man, and to give him both freedom and a home. It seems," the Ninth glanced up at Xanxus from under bushy brows, "to be a bit of a habit with him."

Xanxus crossed arms tightened and he looked back at the Ninth, eyes dark.

The Ninth smiled. "He protects his people. Remember that, and it will all make sense."

Tsuna slipped away, biting his lip. He felt positive the Ninth was being more generous than he deserved.

"I... I didn't... when you let me go... why... " Xanxus' words were soft and stumbling, and Tsuna wondered for a moment if he was drunk or drugged. He'd never heard Xanxus sound like that before.

"I hoped," the Ninth said, just as soft. "It may have been foolish of me, but I hoped that, with my successor named, we could set aside all of that and try again to just be father and son." He sighed. "I suppose that was pretty insensitive of me, all things considered. I'm sorry."

"It... wasn't your fault."

Peeking out, Tsuna saw that the Ninth had Xanxus' hands in his and Xanxus wasn't pulling away, though he looked at a loss over what else he should do.

"You are my son," the Ninth said, firmly. "I have always been here for you. I always will be." More softly, he added, "I couldn't just leave you like that."

Xanxus looked up at the old man standing in front of him and, slowly, nodded. "Okay." His voice was rough and husky, and even without reaching for the Flame Tsuna could perceive the fear tightening his shoulders. But his hands wrapped around the Ninth's in turn.

Tsuna edged quickly back down the hall, far enough to drag out his handkerchief and wipe his eyes and blow his nose and walk back toward his office grinning like an idiot.

"You sound like being the boss and being a dad are the same thing, half the time."

The Ninth chuckled. "Well, there's a reason we call it a Family, after all."

Xanxus blinked as if that had never occurred to him, and, lurking in the hall, Tsuna did too. He certainly never felt like a father, dealing with his Family.

A babysitter, maybe.

From the sardonic twist to his mouth Xanxus might be thinking the same thing. "Might be just as well, then. Never wanted kids."

The Ninth's eyes twinkled. "You're sure you want to keep the Varia, then?"

Xanxus shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. The Ninth reached over and patted his arm. "Well, I'm sure you've gotten used to them by now," he said gently.

Xanxus looked at his hands, frowning, more thoughtful than angry for once. "Maybe."

After weeks of trying very hard not to intrude on Xanxus and the Ninth, or at least trying very hard not to be caught, and of sternly forbidding anyone else to eavesdrop either, Tsuna was extremely startled to find Xanxus waiting for him, in the shadows of his office.

"Xanxus," he greeted the man's reemergence.

Xanxus watched him silently for a long moment before looking down at his own crossed arms. "Sawada."

Tsuna waited, encouraged by the lack of immediate hostility.

"You haven't yet, but. If you did send the Varia out." Xanxus paused for a long moment, not looking up. "What kind of people would you aim us for?"

Tsuna was quiet for a long moment. "I can only imagine sending you after someone crazy. Someone I hadn't been able to talk to. Someone who was killing our people, or-" he remembered the future that hadn't happened, "-destroying our world. Someone I couldn't find any other way of stopping." He spread his hands. That was the truth as clearly as he could give it, and he waited to see what Xanxus would do with it.

"Mm. Could probably do that."

Tsuna's mouth quirked at the grudging tone and then he straightened as he recalled what the Ninth had said to Xanxus about targets that deserved his anger. Was Xanxus actually afraid he couldn't do the job he'd chosen any longer?

"I've been thinking, though," he essayed, by way of testing the idea, "since the Varia are more in the open now, anyway, maybe there's call for your abilities outside of assassinations."

Xanxus gave him a hard look and Tsuna mentally nodded to himself.

"I mean, I need to get to people before I can talk to them, don't I?" he added, ingenuously. "And the Varia are the very best at getting to people."

Xanxus snorted. "And then I'll be right there to kill them when you completely flop," he drawled.

"I'd rather you not, but if it really does have to be done, then yes." Tsuna returned Xanxus' look evenly and saw a flicker of respect. "Are you staying?" he finished, softly, offering that choice again.

Xanxus stilled for a long moment.

Finally he pushed away from the wall and stood, looking down at Tsuna, eyes dark. Tsuna felt like the entire world held its breath. When Xanxus spoke, his voice was clear and even.

"Yes."

End

I Said, You Said

Xanxus finally hears what Tsuna means when he says Xanxus is one of his Family. Drama with Fluff, I-3

Tsuna cast a quick eye over the parties pulled up to either side of the low table and stifled a sigh. Two houses alike in pigheadedness was how Gokudera put it, with a wry smile, and Tsuna could only agree.

Gamma was getting alarmingly affable, as he got to the end of his speech, too.

"So I'm sure you can see why our alliance feels a need to know how you knew that Genshiki was..." he paused, eyes turning hard over his friendly smile, "not of the same mind as the rest of us."

That was a delicate way to put "going to betray us". Tsuna laced his hands together and regarded them for a moment, fishing for the right words to start with. He didn't think "well, you see, he did it in the future we went to over a decade ago" would quite work. He also didn't know why Uni had left it to him to explain, when she knew the full story already—one of the few people in this new past-present who did. She was either being gracious, letting him decide what to reveal, or ruthless, forcing him to decide. With Uni it was hard to tell which sometimes.

The Girasol man stirred and leaned forward, frowning. "You have to see how suspicious this looks, when Vongola haven't been able to deal permanently with a traitor in their own ranks." His eyes flicked to Xanxus, who had disdained a seat and was leaning against the wall instead.

Tsuna was aware of Xanxus slowly straightening, face dark, but only peripherally.

Most of his attention was taken up with the rush of fierce anger through his chest, the sharpening of his awareness and the first unfolding of his Flame.

"There are no traitors among the Vongola," he said, level as the edge of a razor and very soft, and the whole room froze around him. He didn't take his eyes off the suddenly pale Girasol. "Xanxus is one of my Family, and it would not be wise for you to give me the idea you hold my Family in any contempt. At all."

"No, I... of course I didn't mean..." the man stammered into silence and Tsuna inhaled slowly and looked back at Gamma.

"As for the rest of it, I suggest you talk to your own boss. It's Uni's place to decide what her Family should know, not mine."

"Hm." Gamma's mouth twisted a bit, sardonic amusement and perhaps respect in the line of it. "True enough. All right, then."

There were some grumbles as he chivvied his delegation out the door, but not many, which was just as well. Tsuna silenced the more audible with a cold look after them. As the door closed he leaned back and made himself relax; it took a little while.

"Girasol is not on my Christmas card list this year," he announced, finally. Yamamoto laughed. Tsuna snorted and looked over at Xanxus. "You won't ..." he swallowed the do anything to them, right?, because Xanxus was still standing by the wall where he had straightened, staring at him in absolute confusion. "Xanxus?"

"Why did you do that?"

Tsuna blinked. "...do what?" He was aware of Gokudera choking down a laugh behind him but didn't look away from Xanxus.

"That!" Xanxus waved at the closed door. "I'm not... you... why..." He finally slashed a hand through the air and turned away. "Never mind." He strode for the opposite door, pausing only once to glance back at Tsuna, uncertainty marking his face.

Gokudera leaned an elbow on the back of Tsuna's chair and chuckled softly. "You sure have a way with people like that, boss."

Tsuna looked up at him, still faintly puzzled by Xanxus' reaction. "Um?"

Gokudera smiled down at him, eyes soft. "Well, think about it from that poor idiot's point of view. He starts out in the gutter. He didn't belong and then he did, and then he got it totally knocked out from under him which must have been twice as bad... and just when he's absolutely positive that he's worthless and no one will ever give a damn about him, you defend him. In fact you threaten tentative allies for him." His smile tilted. "He's probably still wondering if this is for real. When he decides it is..." He hesitated and turned a hand palm up. "Well, then we'll see if you have another man everybody thought no one could tame."

Tsuna colored a little, a reaction he'd never grown out of. "Oh."

Yamamoto reached over and ruffled his hair, a gesture he'd never grown out of. "Don't worry. He'll come around."

Tsuna nodded slowly. He'd thought it was obvious that his strength was given to protect his Family, and Xanxus was part of that, but... given it was Xanxus maybe it needed a stronger demonstration.

"I can't wait to see how it works out for him," Gokudera murmured as they left, mouth quirked.

Tsuna hadn't exactly expected to enjoy dealing with the Pozzo Nero in person, but this was giving him a whole new definition of "not enjoying".

"I will not permit you to move drugs through our territory, or distribute them," he finally said, flatly, after two hours worth of less direct hints had failed.

"You're not making use of any of that market yourselves," Grigio, the Pozzo Nero boss, said in a tone of strained reasonableness.

"That's because I won't have it here!" Tsuna snapped.

The man across from him sighed and sat back. "I see. I suppose I was afraid that might be your answer." His sudden calm made Tsuna tense. Grigio rose. "I'm sorry we couldn't reach an agreement."

Tsuna was half expecting it when he stepped forward, hand darting under his jacket to pull a gun, and already had a hand up, Flame surging out, at Gokudera's warning shout.

And then everything stopped, because Xanxus' gun was pressed straight to Grigio's forehead. His lips were pulled back in a hungry smile and his eyes had a feral glint. Tsuna was struck by the memory of another moment when Xanxus had shielded him, and spared a brief moment to hope the reasons were different this time.

As Tsuna eyed the slowly increasing tension of Xanxus' finger on the trigger, he wondered if it wasn't just that Xanxus had a good target in front of him at last.

"Hey..." Yamamoto started, light and easy, but Tsuna held up a hand. He didn't think even Yamamoto's good nature would defuse this. He thought about the spoken and unspoken promises he and Xanxus had made and took a slow breath.

"Thank you."

Xanxus started, eyes finally sliding away from his sweating target to blink at Tsuna. Tsuna smiled at him, and held his hand out. "Thank you," he said again, gently.

Xanxus stared at him for a long, blank moment before he finally glanced aside. "Yeah, fine, whatever." He flicked the barrel away from the Pozzo Nero and, before the man could straighten, slammed the butt into the side of his head instead. Grigio collapsed and Xanxus glared at the men who'd come with him, a hint of eagerness in his snarl. They all carefully took their hands out of their jackets. Xanxus snorted with disdain and stalked back to lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching them all with hooded eyes.

"You're free to go," Tsuna told his visitors. "Do not," he added, voice turning cool, "come back."

They hustled their dazed boss out the door as quickly as Tsuna could have wished and he sat back with a sigh. He wanted a bath after that. He turned his head to give Xanxus another smile, this one weary. "Truly. Thank you."

Xanxus shrugged a shoulder, still not looking at him. "Hell, maybe they'll come back, so I can kill them."

Tsuna's mouth tightened, but... he had people to protect, here. "If they try," he agreed, quietly.

Xanxus pushed away from the wall and made for the door, only to pause with it half open and look back at Tsuna. He started to say something, stopped and shook his head. Finally he nodded to Tsuna, just a little, and strode out.

"He's a tough nut to crack," Gokudera observed with a wry smile. "I'd have thought you'd have had him in hand by now."

"Oh, he is."

Tsuna blinked, because it was Yamamoto who had spoken, and he was watching the door Xanxus had gone through with a little quirk to his mouth.

Gokudera's brows lifted. "You sure about that?"

"Oh yeah." Yamamoto looked back at them, smile back in place but distant. "Tsuna is his reason, now."

"You wanna translate that?" Gokudera drawled, arms crossed.

Yamamoto chuckled. "Well. Being good at something is... satisfying, you know? Sometimes you do what you're good at just because of that. That's how Xanxus used to be." He looked down at Tsuna, eyes dark. "But if there's a bigger reason for fighting—to protect the Family, to serve you—then there's real motivation. And real strength."

Tsuna looked up at him, knowing it wasn't just Xanxus Yamamoto was talking about. "Yamamoto..."

"You're such a sap sometimes," Gokudera put in, grinning.

"Hey, at least it's only sometimes," Yamamoto shot back, looking innocent.

"You trying to say something?"

Tsuna smiled as they bantered, and tucked away the memory of the word Xanxus' lips had half-formed, when he had turned back.

Boss.

End

Comfort Food

Gokudera is sick and being stubborn, and Yamamoto decides to step in. Unmitigated Fluff, I-2

Warning: May cause tooth decay. To prevent cavities, brush thoroughly after every reading.

"HA-CHOO!"

Tsuna almost flinched at the violence of Gokudera's sneeze. "Are you sure you're all right? I mean, shouldn't you be staying home?"

"'mb fide," Gokudera muttered around his wad of handkerchief. It hadn't moved far all day, but when it had his nose had looked absolutely raw. "Not goig to slack off by job 'cause of a code."

Takeshi sighed and made a note to himself that Gokudera got more stubborn and foul-tempered when he was sick. He wouldn't have thought it was possible if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

"Don't worry," he told Tsuna. "Gokudera is going home now."

Tsuna blinked. "He, um, is?"

Takeshi tucked his hands in his pockets and smiled, serene and immoveable, ignoring the evil glare Gokudera was giving him. "Yes. He is."

"Fuck you." It would have been more impressive if Gokudera hadn't had to blow his nose so hard before he could manage to enunciate it. Takeshi decided it was time to bring out the heavy weaponry.

"When you're better, if you like," he said, agreeably.

Tsuna and Gokudera both turned red.

"In the meantime, though, you should be resting, right? Tsuna is home and safe, you've done your job, time for dinner." Takeshi took ruthless advantage of Gokudera's flusterment to steer him on down the street, waving goodbye to Tsuna over his shoulder. Tsuna stood at his gate, watching them and shaking his head, but Takeshi thought he was smiling.

Gokudera called him names most of the way to his apartment. Takeshi smiled and agreed with every one, even the ones in Italian he still didn't understand. Though, after this long, there weren't many of those. Gokudera's energetic stomping lasted all the way up his stairs. Takeshi took over, though, when Gokudera fumbled with the buttons of his coat.

"You're taking a long, hot bath," he said firmly, unwinding Gokudera's scarf. "And then you're going to eat something. And then you're sleeping however long you need to. Got it?"

Gokudera snarled at him. Takeshi ignored it. "Bath," he repeated, turning away to rummage in Gokudera's cupboards for anything resembling food. "You can't guard Tsuna if you're this sick." He tracked Gokudera's steps across the apartment by the shuffling and banging into the few furnishings, and breathed a sigh of relief when the water went on. He hadn't been positive even the ultimate appeal to the Tenth would work this time.

Eventually he assembled rice that didn't seem to have dried out yet, some eggs, not too old greens, and rather a lot of pickles. Tamagoyaki and onigiri it was. He kept half an ear out while he cooked, listening to the water eventually turn off and the silence the followed. When it had gone on for a while he left off pressing the rice and tip-toed across to sneak a look in on Gokudera, long enough to see that his head was still above the edge of the tub, at least. He was cleaning up when Gokudera finally emerged, flushed and damp and breathing easier if the lack of handkerchief was any indication. Takeshi smiled and set Gokudera's plate out for him before turning back to the sink.

He listened to Gokudera's grumbling and stifled a chuckle when it turned muffled, as around a mouthful of food.

Eventually Gokudera brought his empty plate to the sink and elbowed Takeshi for room to wash it. Takeshi stood firm. "I'll do that. You go to bed before you lose all that heat from the bath."

Gokudera scowled at him, but didn't fight this time, dropping his plate in the water with what was probably a deliberate splash and trudging toward the bedroom.

Takeshi finished up quickly and brewed some tea and slipped into Gokudera's room with a cup, quietly in case he was already asleep.

He made a grumpy sound, so probably not.

Takeshi set the cup down beside the bed and eyed the thin blanket with disapproval. Gokudera was shivering, curled up with his back to the door. He'd gathered by this time that Gokudera would just get more stubborn if he pointed it out, though, so he went rummaging again, this time for covers. Hauling his finds back he silently spread out two more blankets and a very large towel.

And then he eased down onto the bed behind Gokudera and curled up around him, carefully bracing an arm over him so its weight wouldn't come down too heavily.

Slowly the shivers stopped.

Gokudera finally stirred. "You'll get sick, too," he husked.

"If I do then you can have your revenge, and make me take care of myself," Takeshi said lightly.

Gokudera snorted silently, just a huff of breath under his arm. "'Kay."

Takeshi lay quietly, and listened to Gokudera's breath finally evening out into sleep, and smiled, and didn't move.

End

What to Expect When You're Expecting

Nothing that the Vongola Family does is ever actually simple. Nothing. For cliche_bingo, prompt: "Pregnancy." Fluffy schmoopy fluff with deeper Family politics underneath, general audiences

The one thing—some days, the only thing—everyone could agree to was that Shamal wasn't the sort of person a pregnant woman should ever have to deal with. Kyouko thought that was just as well, because Hisakawa-sensei was a pleasant woman with a reassuringly competent manner and a professional history that had been vetted three times over (once by Cavallone's people, who had been the ones to recommend and vouch for her; a second time by the Vongola's people, who had agreed that she was legitimate; and the third and final time by Gokudera, who had finally, grudgingly, said that Hisakawa-sensei might be competent enough to be allowed to supervise the gestation and birth of the Tenth's firstborn).

Kyouko supposed that she might have known that even the matter of having Vongola babies couldn't be simple.

"And that's that," Hisakawa-sensei said, undoing the blood pressure cuff and turning away to make a notation in the charts she was keeping.

Kyouko rolled her sleeve back down. "Well?"

Hisakawa-sensei's smile was warm, reassuring. "Thirty weeks and still a textbook case. All of my patients should give me so little trouble."

Kyouko couldn't help smiling back; she did like Hisakawa-sensei. "At least something in my life is allowed to be straightforward."

"I can imagine it must be a relief," Hisakawa-sensei agreed, and closed her chart. She stood and inclined her head. "With your permission, I'll see you again tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow," Kyouko murmured, and watched her go—she'd be off to Tsuna now, to make her daily report.

Nothing was ever particularly simple for the Vongola. But then, she'd known as much for years.

Kyouko twitched at her clothes one last time, settling them into place, and smiled at I-Pin. "Well, shall we?" she asked. "Haru must be waiting."

I-Pin could admit that it was completely necessary and appropriate that they had increased Kyouko-san's security detail. She could name five Families who might be pleased to see the Vongola's wife fail to carry a pregnancy to term, and that was without even trying. Of course it was necessary to increase the number of bodyguards who accompanied Kyouko-san whenever she went out. To do otherwise invited disaster.

All the same, that didn't mean I-Pin had to like it.

Fedele was a good man, and her dislike of him was completely unworthy, she reminded herself. Still, she couldn't help it; this was her territory that he was intruding upon, and Kyouko-san was her Boss.

"All clear," AndrÃ©'s voice murmured into her earpiece, and I-Pin nodded. Fedele went ahead, leading Kyouko-san and Haru into the shop, while I-Pin brought up the rear.

At least they'd left her with nominal authority over Kyouko-san's security. That was something to hold to.

Antonio swept forward to greet them, effusive over how Kyouko-san was glowing and practically rubbing his hands together with his glee at getting to try out his latest designs on her. Kyouko-san and Haru-san laughed with him as they drifted deeper into the shop, already falling into easy chatter with him, while I-Pin and Fedele kept watch over them.

Fedele looked exasperated, just faintly, around the eyes, like he couldn't quite believe that a veteran Vongola foot soldier had been assigned to stand in this shop, surrounded by bolts of cloth and the frippery of women's gossip.

I-Pin turned her eyes away from him. He might have been necessary, even vital, but he didn't understand anything, and she wasn't obligated to like him.

Just a few more weeks, she reminded herself. Just a few more weeks of this and things would—well, they wouldn't go back to normal, but they would change again.

All the same, she was going to look into assembling a proper security team for Kyouko-san, one that would understand the work that the Vongola's wife did.

Kyouko-san didn't deserve anything less than the absolute best.

"You know, I bet we could make a killing if we put some money down on whether it's going to be a boy or a girl," Haru said, once they were ensconced in the car and Antonio's discreet questions were behind them.

Kyouko-chan chuckled. "I suppose we could," she agreed, with the secret little smile she'd taken to wearing these past few months. "But I doubt we really need the money that badly."

"The money's only a way to keep score." Haru studied her. "Is it true that you really don't know which it's going to be?"

Kyouko-chan laid a hand over the curve of her stomach. "Yes." The smile turned into an outright grin. "I admit, confounding all the people who ask is one of my great joys in life right now."

"You really do have an evil sense of humor," Haru told her. It was all the more so for coming from such an unexpected quarter.

"I know." Kyouko-chan turned her eyes to the window. "So. Which do the odds favor?"

"A son." Haru couldn't help rolling her eyes. "Because the Vongola are such manly men, you know."

"Tsuna is very macho, yes," Kyouko-chan agreed, with a straight face. "Quite vigorous, even." That earned a squeak from I-Pin's corner, rather like a stifled giggle.

Tsuna-kun was never going to hear the end of that one, poor guy. "Yes, well, the consensus seems to be that the Vongola's firstborn wouldn't dare be a girl. Long tradition and all that."

"Tradition, yes." Kyouko-chan's expression went distant. "A boy would be easiest, all told. And then a second boy, and perhaps the third might be a girl..."

An heir and a spare, yes, and then a sister who might be used to cement an alliance with another Family—that was the preferred configuration for these things.

"Whatever it ends up being, it will be a Vongola," Haru told her, quietly. "And it will be yours, and Tsuna-kun's, and that's what really matters. The rest of it can go to hell."

Kyouko-chan looked away from the window, the uncertainty melting away from the line of her mouth. "Yes," she said, after a moment, and some of her steel showed itself in a brief glint of her eyes. "You're right. The rest of it can go to hell."

Haru settled back in her seat, satisfied.

Privately, she was hoping for a girl. Wouldn't that just put a spoke in the other Families' wheels? She'd have to put some money down on it, discreetly. If it came out in her favor, it'd make a good christening gift.

Kyouko was drowsing by the time Tsuna came in, and had to rouse herself from a doze when he slid into bed next to her in order to collect her kiss. "Mm. I was starting to think that you boys were going to talk all night long."

"Getting too old for that," Tsuna said, settling against her back.

Kyouko laughed and leaned back against his chest, and sighed, contentedly, as his arm curved around her and held her close. "Is that the diplomatic way of saying that you ran out of wine?"

His laugh tickled her throat. "Maybe."

"I thought it might be." It wouldn't have anything to do with the way Tsuna was wrapping himself around her, of course, or the way his palm had flattened itself against the rounding curve of her stomach. Well, not officially, anyway. There were appearances to keep up.

But that was okay. She was fluent in the things he left unspoken.

"Takeshi says that it's not fair that Hayato gets first dibs on being a godfather," Tsuna told her, after a moment.

"Does he, now?" Kyouko could imagine him saying so, half-joking, in order to get Gokudera's temper up, and half-serious underneath the laughter. "We'll have to have another, then, so he won't feel left out."

"That might set a dangerous precedent, you know." Tsuna sounded amused. "Before you know it, they'll all want godchildren."

"It's the accessory every fashionable Guardian is sporting this season," Kyouko said, arch.

Tsuna's body shook with laughter. "What a mental image," he said, against her shoulder. "Can you imagine the look on Hibari's face?"

Kyouko could, all too well, and giggled. "Oh, dear."

"Somewhere," he said, gravely, "Hibari has the urge to bite me to death, and he doesn't even know why."

Kyouko laughed until she was breathless and the baby was kicking restlessly against all the jostling. "Oh, now I really think we should."

"I'm willing if you are," Tsuna said, low.

Kyouko's laughter stilled in her throat at the offer, which went against all the advice they'd been given about careful family planning and siblings who could only ever be rivals for one coveted position. "I am," she said, softly, because if Tsuna was willing to try to change that part of mafia life, so was she. She settled her hand over his, and he snuggled her closer. Then the baby kicked again, sharply, and broke the mood. "I reserve the right to change my mind after this one is born, though."

Even as Tsuna laughed and agreed that it was her prerogative to do so, Kyouko was fairly certain that she wouldn't.

- end -

Relative Values

Takes place somewhere towards the middle of The Queen and All Her Men. Tsuna and Kyouko have a favor to ask. Fluff, general audiences

Rokudou Mukuro came and went as freely as a Cloud—rather more freely than perhaps anyone other than Tsuna and Kyouko was really comfortable with, all things considered. The word of the Vongola was unbreakable, though, and Tsuna had given it to the Vendicare to secure Mukuro's parole, so Mukuro came and went as he pleased, save for the occasions when Tsuna's business required his presence.

Such as this one.

It was always interesting to watch Mukuro and Chrome when they were together in the same space, Kyouko mused. They gravitated towards each other, and shared a handful of mannerisms—the tilt of the head, a trick of posture, the way a gesture followed a thought—that gave them an uncanny resemblance to each other. One had to wonder how much of that was deliberate, and how much of it was unconscious, and who was the original and who was the copy.

After all, she'd seen too much to assume that the influence only ran in one direction, where the two of them were concerned.

"Well, what is it?" Mukuro asked, when Tsuna had joined them and Kyouko had distributed coffee to the three of them, and taken up her own cup of tea. He glanced at Kyouko before asking, as if her presence was some kind of cue, and then added, "I assume this isn't about Spain."

"No," Tsuna said, with a faint smile. "Should it be about Spain?" That was where they'd called Mukuro home from, where he'd been pursuing some end of his own.

Tsuna held Mukuro's eyes, and Mukuro was the one who shrugged. "It has nothing to do with the Vongola," he said, and selected one of the flaky little tarts that Kyouko had noticed he liked.

"Then no, it isn't about Spain," Tsuna said, and took a sip of his coffee.

Despite the fact that Tsuna was as much responsible for this as she was, he had insisted that it was her news to share, so Kyouko cleared her throat. "I'm expecting," she said, which garnered a murmured, "Congratulations," from Chrome, and a, "What, again?" from Mukuro.

"Mukuro-sama," Chrome said, gently reproving. "That wasn't very polite." She did not, Kyouko noted, make the mistake of confusing 'polite' with 'nice'.

"I suppose it's not. Congratulations to both of you," Mukuro said, eyes dark. "And may you not live to see the whole lot of them fighting each other to be your heir."

From Mukuro, that was practically a blessing. "Thank you," Kyouko said, smiling. He just snorted.

Chrome was still watching them, waiting—probably with a good idea of what was to come. Mukuro surely had the same idea, but he rarely showed what he was thinking, while Chrome sometimes did.

"We'd like you to stand as godparents to the child," Tsuna said, and that completed the circle that they'd begun with Gokudera and Mari.

The two of them had to have seen it coming; the pattern hadn't exactly been subtle. All of Tsuna's other Guardians had taken on this duty in addition to their other responsibilities, from Gokudera down to Lambo. Chrome reacted as Tsuna and Kyouko had agreed that she probably would, by tipping her head and murmuring, "I would be honored."

Mukuro just looked at them both and said, flatly, "Have you lost your minds?"

"No, of course not," Tsuna said, smiling. "Are you willing to do it?"

Kyouko raised her tea to her lips, to conceal the fact that she was holding her breath.

"Have you forgotten who I am?" Mukuro demanded, and Kyouko sighed into her cup. He wasn't unwilling, then—just suffering an attack of his peculiar brand of scruples.

"Of course I haven't," Tsuna told him, still with his smile, but there was a touch of his Will in his eyes. "You're my Mist."

"And our Family," Kyouko murmured, in case Mukuro had forgotten that she was party to the decision, too. "Really, I can't think of any better way to mark the fact than to have you as a godparent." She set her tea down, and added, "Of course, if you say no, I suppose we can ask Xanxus instead."

Even Tsuna choked on that one.

"Use your head, Sawada," Mukuro said, after a moment. "Think of how this will look."

"It will look as though I am gathering one of my people to me and keeping him there," Tsuna said, firmly. "If you do not wish to do this, then all you have to do is say so. But if your only reasons for saying no are what you fear the other Families will think, that's not your problem. It's mine, and I don't care about them." His Will echoed in his voice and his eyes, low and sure and smooth.

Mukuro was no more immune to that than any of Tsuna's other Guardians, though Kyouko was sure that he'd be loath to admit it. He stared at Tsuna until, finally, he inclined his head, and said, sour, "It's your neck."

"Yes, it is," Kyouko said, smiling. "More coffee?"

He grunted at her, but held out his cup after a moment, and that was that. Kyouko refilled it, smiling, and wondered what this new duty was likely to make of him.

- end -

Benefits of Friends

Ichigo doesn't exactly ask Renji for a favor; fortunately Renji knows what he means anyway. Written for the Drabble Game prompt: Ichigo, clueless and curious. Fluff, I-2

Renji blinked and looked over. "What, you've really never...?"

Ichigo couldn't help bristling. "That's perfectly normal, you know!"

"Ah, right." Renji leaned back on the grass again, arms crossed behind his head. "I keep forgetting how damn young you are." After a contemplative moment he looked over again, frowning. "Wait, so are you asking...?"

"Not asking a damn thing," Ichigo muttered, setting his back more firmly against the scratchy bark of a tree and looking fixedly off into the distance, not in any state of mind to appreciate the sunlit day or the soft rustle of leaves here at the edge of the Court of Pure Souls. He heard Renji snort.

"Yeah, whatever." Louder rustling made him look back to see Renji climbing to his feet and briskly swiping grass bits out of his hakama. "C'mere, then."

"Wha...?" Ichigo stiffened as Renji pulled him away from the tree with a hand at his back. How did people manage this without panicking? What was he supposed to do with his hands, anyway? When he finally settled them gingerly on Renji's sleeves he looked up to find himself eye to... chin with Renji. "Um..."

"Nah, up here." Renji's smile was crooked as ever but his fingers were gentle as he set a knuckle under Ichigo's chin and tipped it up. Ichigo still couldn't stop his hands tightening on Renji's sleeves.

"Renji..." His voice had turned husky, too, and he hadn't meant it to.

Renji's smile untilted for once. "It's okay." He leaned down and Ichigo's breath sucked in as Renji's mouth brushed his, light. And then again. It made shivery little feelings run down his spine. He gasped outright when the tip of Renji's tongue brushed his lower lip.

"So, you going to let me in?" Renji's voice was low and quiet and Ichigo had to swallow.

"I... um." Another quick breath. "Yeah?" And the way Renji smiled at him was positively embarrassing, so he was kind of glad to close his eyes as Renji leaned down again.

The embarrassment frittered away to nothing when Renji's tongue slid into his mouth, because sensation was suddenly everything. The slow, wet slide sent heat rushing down between his legs so fast he was light-headed. It would have been obscene, that wet softness filling his mouth, if it didn't feel so good.

When Renji finally drew back Ichigo found himself breathing fast, clutching Renji's arms, pressed up against him. One big hand was cradling the back of his head, supporting him, and okay, yeah, that was kind of a good thing.

"Good?" Renji murmured.

"Yeah," Ichigo managed after a moment. "I, um. Thanks."

Renji's smile slid into a more familiar grin, toothy and sharp. "Hey. My pleasure."

Hot face and uneven breath and all, Ichigo couldn't help laughing at that.

Asking Renji had been a good choice.

End

Withdrawal

Yamamoto is only concerned for Gokudera's health. Gokudera really doesn't appreciate this at all. Written for the Drabble Game prompt: TYL!Gokudera, quit smoking. Fluff with Swearing, I-3

"I am going," Hayato said, low and deadly, "to kill you."

Yamamoto just smiled, the bastard, cheery as if Hayato had offered to take him on a fucking picnic. "Okay."

Hayato growled as he snapped his wrist, laying one bracketing pattern of explosives around Yamamoto while he thumbed the jets on a second set and sent them diving at angles into the smoke. They didn't go off and the smoke swirled around the line of Yamamoto's sword as it stilled.

Hayato positively hissed at him and reached for a grenade. Yamamoto, the bastard, laughed.

Rocket bombs. Sticky bombs. Mini bombs, which he did his damnedest to stuff down Yamamoto's pants. None of them worked, at least insofar as none of them rendered Yamamoto a smoking, unconscious body on the floor of the training room whose pockets Hayato could rifle.

It was time to get serious.

Yamamoto's eyes widened satisfyingly when Hayato went for his box and slammed the Flame Arrow cartridge home. Yamamoto dodged once, twice, closing in on him, and Hayato snarled and fed in his Cloud bullets to saturate the field and force him back. Yamamoto's smile was sharp as he reached for his own box, and Hayato cursed softly under what breath he had left as that damn swallow made for him.

In the end it wasn't the swallow that got him, though. And it wasn't the sword. No. It was the goddamn dog that Yamamoto sent behind him to trip him, and that was just the last straw. Hayato howled with absolute fury as Yamamoto came down from above him, and shot him right in the face with Flame Thunder.

After a few breaths, Hayato managed, with a groan, to haul himself up onto his knees and crawl over to Yamamoto's body and get down to his real business.

There was nothing in Yamamoto's jacket pockets. There was nothing in his pants pockets. There wasn't even anything in his shirt pocket, and Hayato finally pounded a fist on his chest in outrage. Yamamoto coughed and levered himself up on an elbow with a small groan of his own, but Hayato didn't have time to appreciate that right now.

"Where are they, you asshole?!" he yelled.

"What?" Yamamoto smiled at him, sweet and wry. "You didn't think I'd actually keep them on me? I threw them away."

Hayato stared at him and flopped over onto his back, feeling the exhaustion of absolute betrayal. "I hate you."

"Your endurance is already getting better," Yamamoto offered, sounding hopeful.

"I really hate you."

"And it looks like we worked off most of the jitters, at least."

"I hate you so much."

"Tsuna agreed with me," Yamamoto positively wheedled.

"You threw away my cigarettes."

Yamamoto leaned over him and kissed him. Slowly. "You taste better now," he murmured against Hayato's mouth.

Hayato glared up at him. "You're going to have to do a whole lot better than that."

Yamamoto just smiled. "Okay."

Hayato made a grumpy sound into the next kiss, but settled a little as warm, sword-calloused hands slid under his shirt. He was still not impressed with the campaign to make him quit smoking, but at least Yamamoto was taking his responsibility for this mess seriously.

End

The Flower and the Bird and the Wind and the Moon

Pre-canon. How Fuuga came to part, and how Kazuki came to leave. Angst, Fluff, Angst, I-4

Saizou named him Prince of Terror. Kazuki never objected. It was true enough, and if some of the terror that had lodged in his bones for years seeped out to touch the people they fought, the ones who threatened even the tiny corner of life he had managed to cling to here... well, perhaps that would mean less for him which was all to the good as far as he was concerned.

It had started when he opened the door to the Beltline. What he saw there swallowed even the terror of the night of his House's death. By the time he found his way back out to the hard light of Lower Town's day, it was running in his very blood. And yet, he knew that it would take more than the strength of terror to hold back the Beltline. What that might be, he didn't know.

Two years later, he met Amano Ginji for the first time.

"I want to follow him."

"But why?" Toshiki demanded, throwing his hands out. "Why should you surrender to this Amano without even a fight?!"

Kazuki sighed softly. He barely understood it himself; how to find words for others? All he knew was that, the first time he met Amano Ginji's eyes, the band of fear and rage that had locked itself around his heart the night his family died had loosened a little. That was one of the things he didn't speak of, though, so instead he said, "He has a good future in his eyes. I want to see it."

"Kazuki!"

He opened a hand palm up. "I won't force anyone to follow where they don't wish to go. You may consider Fuuga disbanded. All of you are free to go where you wish." It wasn't as if he were anyone's leader. Not really. It would be a joke to think he was—a lord with a charred shell of a House behind him in ruins.

Juubei took a step toward him. "We'll follow you, of course. But... are you sure of this man?"

Kazuki smiled, feeling again the touch of ease Ginji's presence had brought. "Yes."

Saizou was silent, arms folded, watching him.

In the end, two stayed and two left. Kazuki tried not to dwell on how much he missed them; he'd had no right to keep them, after all.

He believed that for years.

Kazuki watched with a rather jaundiced eye as the leader of the Fire Children sneered at Ginji. The Fire Children were a large gang, but they had perhaps three or four people of significant strength among them. Everyone else were hangers on. Hyenas following behind some rather scruffy lions to snatch at their leavings.

Ginji waited for the second bombastic challenge to be done with and said again, "You're stealing from people in our territory."

The Fire Children's leader nearly stamped his foot and growled, "Who the hell cares about them?!"

At that, Ginji's face finally hardened and lines of light crackled briefly around his hands. Kazuki frowned. That wasn't necessary. Not for scum like this.

If Ginji lost his temper, though, that wouldn't matter.

Kazuki stepped forward, out of the knot of Ginji's people, to stand at his shoulder and cast a cold eye over the Fire Children. He didn't see any need to waste patience or manners on them.

A stir rustled through their crowd, and Kazuki heard his name in it.

"Kazuki... Strings... Prince..." the rustle whispered, and they edged back. Kazuki turned his head to look at the leader, letting his bells chime, and had the satisfaction of watching him edge back a step, too.

Ginji was looking over his shoulder with a rueful smile. "Kazu-chan," he said softly.

"You didn't really want to fight them, Ginji-san," Kazuki murmured, quiet but letting himself be heard. "Leave them to me." As he had rather expected, the Fire Children misinterpreted that entirely, and the whispers rustled again. "Terror... Follows him..." He smiled back at Ginji with a hint of mischief.

"Well," the Fire Children's leader tried to bluster over the noise. "Not like there's anything worth going into those streets for anyway."

Ginji rolled his eyes a bit as he turned back and Kazuki had to hold back an actual laugh. It had been a while since he'd laughed.

He'd forgotten how good it tasted.

Kazuki stood in the evening drizzle that had come on with sunset, looking up at the dark bulk that loomed above Lower Town. The Beltline. Babylon City. The answers were still there, he knew; he felt it like a weight in his senses. He hadn't been able to reach it, when he'd been younger. Could he now? Was he strong enough, now, to find the source of wrongness in this place, and why his mother had sent him here?

Arms folded around him from behind, so warm it was shocking, and the faint light that accompanied Ginji's presence nearly all the time now fell around them both. "You're getting cold, Kazu-chan," Ginji murmured.

Kazuki let his questions go on a slow sigh and leaned back against Ginji. "I know." He tipped his head back to smile at his friend and leader. "Thank you for coming to find me." And drawing him back from the dark and cold of his thoughts, the way Ginji did for him so often.

Ginji's answering smile was soft, the sadness in his eyes muted for a moment as they stood together.

Sometimes Kazuki thought he could stay forever, this way.

"I have to leave."

Kazuki stared, feeling like he'd taken one of Ginji's own blasts to the chest. Shocked and frozen and not sure whether he could even feel his heart beating. "Ginji-san..."

"Why the hell should you have to leave?" Shido demanded, disbelieving. "This isn't because of that damn punk is it?"

Ginji wouldn't look at any of them, just smiled, one of his sad smiles, the ones that could heal a heart or break it. Kazuki was starting to be afraid they'd all be broken by this one. "Not really. Midou just... showed me something," he said quietly. "I have to leave Mugenjou. If I don't..." He shook his head, and wouldn't say anything more, no matter how they pleaded with him.

Three days later, he was gone.

"I don't think I can stay." Kazuki looked out over the buildings of Lower Town, the place that had been theirs for so long he'd fooled himself it would just keep on that way. He should have known better. "With Ginji-san gone... there's no one but him I could follow."

"Then why don't you lead yourself?" Juubei demanded, behind him. "It wouldn't be that great a change, and you've led before."

"I can't do that." He wasn't fit to lead, he didn't deceive himself about that any more. If he had been, would his House have fallen? Would Toshiki and Saizou have left?

Would Ginji have gone?

"I'm not leaving here!"

Kazuki ruthlessly stifled his flinch at that. Juubei was his oldest friend, and if he wanted to walk a path apart from Kazuki now, Kazuki wouldn't stand in his way. "Whatever you want to do," he murmured.

When his only answer was the abrupt rustle as Juubei left, he leaned his forehead against the broken wall and wished just a little that he could still cry.

Three days later, he was gone.

End

A Theme in Pentatonic - One

Post Infinite Fortress arc. Kazuki takes care of Juubei while he recovers from their fight, and they find their way back to each other—even if Kazuki still can't entirely admit his place in the relationship. Drama, Fluff, Porn, I-4

After the shouting was over and the rush of people had ebbed away again and all the wounded had been marched back to Gen's back rooms by a frowning Ren, Kazuki had a chance to finally think about what he had found by returning to Mugenjou. He listened to the crunch and hush of medicines being mixed, to Ren scolding Emishi, to Sakura's quiet as she sat beside Juubei, and hoped that this time he and Juubei could say what they meant, to each other, and not what they feared.

His search for a way to start that was preempted, though, when Gen stumped over to Juubei and gave him a look of professional disapproval.

"You turned your own arts against yourself; you should know better than anyone what that means. It was only the luck or fate of this place that you missed the critical points but you came close enough to shock even your system badly. I don't know," he added, more quietly, "if your eyes will recover."

"No matter," Juubei said evenly, and Gen grunted without either surprise or agreement.

"At any rate, if there's to be any chance you'll need to rest for at least a week. Take this once a day," he handed Sakura a small, blue glass bottle, "and don't do any of these things." He passed over a closely written sheet of paper.

Sakura read down it and pursed her lips, looking down at her brother dubiously. "Thank you, sir," she said all the same.

Kazuki slipped out of bed and looked over her shoulder. "Well, then, it seems that after I've wrapped up this job I'll be back for a while," he said dryly.

"Back?" Juubei asked, and perhaps only the two of them heard the crack of hope in his voice. Kazuki took a breath.

"Of course," he answered, voice as cheerful as he could make it. "After all, no one else will be able to make you follow the doctor's orders, will they?"

Sakura pressed a hand over her mouth, eyes dancing. Juubei was silent, though, and Kazuki made himself reach out, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You need me here. So I'll be here."

Juubei still didn't speak, but his muscles relaxed under Kazuki's touch.

"Perhaps you should take him back to your own apartment, then," Sakura suggested, smiling up at him with a light of mischief. "A little extra distance between him and his work won't hurt."

"Ane-chan," Juubei objected, but Sakura kept looking at Kazuki and he finally bowed his head.

"If you think that's for the best, Sakura," he murmured.

She laid a hand over his, on Juubei's shoulder. "I do."

He was glad to have Sakura's blessing on this renewal of an old friendship. And perhaps... perhaps more than that.

"I don't want to be away from Lower Town," Juubei grumbled.

"Nonsense," Sakura said firmly. "Kazuki-san may not live in the heart of Mugenjou any more, but he's only moved to the edge of Lower Town."

"...oh." Juubei subsided.

Kazuki fought for a moment with simultaneous pleasure that Sakura had kept that much track of him and the twinge that Juubei obviously hadn't. "Rest here while I close this job," he told Juubei. "I'll come get you when that's done."

And they would see what it was going to take to repair hearts and bodies both.

As Kazuki had expected, having been a spectator the last time Juubei got a cold, Juubei spent exactly one day in bed before he was sneaking out of it every time Kazuki's back was turned. Kazuki was fairly sure that one day was only because he'd been concentrating on readjusting his senses, because he moved as silently as ever when he did get up.

That didn't make Kazuki any happier about it.

"How are your eyes going to have any chance to heal if you don't rest?" he remonstrated, catching Juubei moving methodically through the kitchen, cataloging dishes and cans with his fingertips.

"I doubt they will," Juubei answered, sounding perfectly serene about it. "And that's as well. I raised my hand against you; it's just and right that I be punished for that."

Kazuki touched Juubei's cheek below the wrap over his eyes, just about ready to howl with frustration except that he didn't do such things, any more than Juubei did. They'd both been well taught. "I don't like to see you hurt," he said instead.

Juubei rested his hand over Kazuki's. "I am not in pain."

Kazuki sighed. That complete equanimity was as comforting as it was frustrating, to tell the truth. That was the Juubei he'd known for so long, this serenity and not the harsh, driven edge Juubei had shown when they fought. Juubei had always been a rock, standing firm in any stream of events, even the madness of Fuuchouin's fall.

Of course, the tiny, resentful part of his mind that he tried not to pay too much attention to said, the foundation of Juubei's serenity was still intact. His family had not fallen, and he had left it of his own will to follow the one tradition had bound him to. Even in exile, Juubei knew he was walking the straight path of his house and clan, following...

...following Kazuki.

Kazuki felt his breath stop for a moment. Without him, Juubei had not been himself. Now that he was here again, Juubei was at ease. Secure in his place in the world.

"Kazuki?" Juubei asked softly, hand closing on his shoulder.

Kazuki wrapped his arms tight around Juubei and pressed close, reassuring himself that they were both here and alive and as safe as anyone could be. Husky, against Juubei's shoulder, he murmured, "Did it truly trouble you that much... No." He took a breath. "Never mind. I shouldn't have to ask that."

He knew the answer already, in his heart. The Kakei family was proud, a samurai House who kept their traditions. It must have driven Juubei half-wild to be masterless. Kazuki understood perfectly, in the abstract.

It was only when he faced the fact that Juubei's master was him that it made him flinch away.

So instead he concentrated on the living warmth of Juubei against him, on the comfort of Juubei's arms slowly sliding around him, on the soft pleasure lurking in Juubei's voice when he said Kazuki's name. That was enough.

After a week, during which he had been only marginally successful in making Juubei rest, Kazuki had to admit that Juubei was probably as recovered as he was getting, at least for now. Juubei was moving easily and his non-visual perception had made a leap forward such as Kazuki had never heard of before.

He just hoped that advance would hold outside of Mugenjou.

The moment he was sure Juubei was going to be all right was when Juubei cocked his head to one side and turned to him with a faint frown, as Kazuki was dressing for the day. "Kazuki? You're favoring your right hand."

Once it was pointed out it felt like the faint ache and twinge got deeper, as if pleased to be noticed. Kazuki sighed, twisting his wrist carefully. "Yes. I suppose there's still a bit of forearm strain."

"Sit down." Juubei pushed him down onto the edge of the bed and knelt down beside him, taking Kazuki's arm in his hand and running a thumb down the length of the inner tendon. He made a disapproving sound as Kazuki's fingers twitched. "You're the one who should have been resting more."

Kazuki couldn't help laughing; this was so familiar, this physician's grumpiness. "Well you're fully recovered, at any rate! I'm fine, Juubei."

Juubei paused, head bent, fingers resting on Kazuki's wrist. Finally he said, low, "Allow me this."

There was a plea in those even words, and it caught at Kazuki's heart. "Of course..." he started, impulsive, and then paused himself.

It touched a chord in him, seeing Juubei at his feet, waiting on his word. Part of him could not help feeling that it was good and right, it was their familiar fate as the heirs of their Houses. Kakei was vassal to Fuuchouin.

But that thought, that way, led back into the fire.

Juubei was still waiting.

Kazuki's jaw tightened and he took a slow breath. Forget their Houses; this wasn't a House before him, it was a person! Juubei. He lifted his other hand and rested it on Juubei's head.

"Yes." As he said it, his voice turned fierce, finally saying what he had spent years turning away from. "You are mine."

The sudden openness of Juubei's face as he lifted his head, the husky note in his voice as he said, "Kazuki..." settled in Kazuki's chest and he laughed, softly, and slid down off the bed, pleased when Juubei's arms caught him. Juubei's mouth was soft, under his, startled perhaps, and Kazuki took ruthless advantage of that, kissing Juubei deep and slow until he moaned, arms tightening hard around Kazuki. Kazuki made a satisfied sound at that.

"Kazuki," Juubei murmured against his mouth, breathless.

"I will allow you a great deal," Kazuki purred back, enjoying the way Juubei's breath hitched. "Because you're my own."

And why on earth had he waited so long to say that? He couldn't really recall just at the moment. Never mind their pasts, he could have Juubei just as himself, and that would be all right.

Juubei's hands spread against his back, supporting him, and Juubei turned his face up to Kazuki. "Kazuki... may I...?"

Kazuki shivered, pressing close, half laughing with the dizzy pleasure of the way he'd found to have this. "Yes." He let Juubei lift him back up to the bed and tugged Juubei after him. If he could have managed to undress without letting go, he would have. Finally, after a few tangles of arms and legs and cloth ended in laughter—an open smile from Juubei was just as good—he leaned back, sighing, as strong deft hands trailed slowly over his skin, just as if Juubei had never touched his body before.

In fact, the familiarity of the touch was what soothed him, relaxed him until he was arching up against the weight of Juubei's body, arms twined tight around him. "Mmm, Juubei..."

Juubei's voice was husky as murmured, between kisses, "Do you have...?"

Kazuki stretched to reach the little bedside nook, purring as Juubei's hands slid over his ribs. "Here." He dropped the green glass jar into Juubei's palm.

It was very different, to feel Juubei's hands kneading gently up his thighs, to be gathered close as Juubei's fingers touched him more and more intimately, to hear Juubei's breath come quicker as Kazuki made a soft sound against his shoulder and shifted closer. The few other men and women he'd been with had been... well, they'd been brief, and most of them rather in awe of him. This was Juubei, who grumbled at him when he didn't eat enough, who had guarded his back faithfully for years, who needed jokes explained to him. This was his Juubei, touching him now with complete reverence and no hesitation.

"I missed you so much," he whispered against Juubei's ear, breathless. Juubei's arms tightened around him.

"I beg your forgiveness," Juubei said, low, in the most abject form, and Kazuki moaned as Juubei pressed slowly into him.

"Wasn't your fault," he gasped, and laughed a little as Juubei's silence disagreed with him. Juubei protected him even from himself.

Usually.

"I didn't want to leave you," he offered, softly, sliding his leg up to wind around Juubei's hip.

"Shh." Juubei's hands slid up his back, kneading hard and slow, and Kazuki gasped as muscles he hadn't realized he'd tensed unwound again; it put an edge on the rise of pleasure as Juubei's cock worked slowly in and out of him. "I lost my way, and I was a fool for letting it happen. But you brought me back to it. My life and honor are yours. Always."

That skirted close to the things Kazuki didn't dare think of too hard, hoping not to tempt fate. So all he said, as Juubei's hand slid down between his legs, was "Stay with me?"

"Forever." The intensity of Juubei's voice wrapped around him like another hand, and Kazuki let that touch carry him over the edge, moaning openly as pleasure swept through him, deep and slow and thorough.

The catch of Juubei's breath, the way his head bent, made Kazuki smile, reaching up through the brightness of it all, to run his fingers through Juubei's hair. "Juubei," he murmured, low, and rocked up into the next thrust. Juubei gasped, body arching taut as he drove forward harder, and Kazuki made approving sounds. He pulled Juubei down against him as he started to relax, and murmured in his ear, laughing, "I said say to stay with me, didn't I?"

He could feel the heat in Juubei's face against his shoulder. "Kazuki!"

Kauzki laughed again and cuddled closer, happier than he could remember being in a long time.

And as long as fate and his enemies didn't notice, perhaps he could keep some of it.

A Theme in Pentatonic - Interlude Six

Saizou needs to know that Kazuki accepts all of him, and Kazuki is perfectly pleased to show him. Porn, Fluff, I-4

Kazuki was humming as he climbed the apartment stairs and slipped in the front door. It had been a good day to be an information broker. He was considering getting a nice cup of tea when he spotted Saizou, sprawled on the couch as if he'd been dropped there.

"Saizou?"

Saizou opened one eye and smiled. "Kazuki."

"How is your family?" Kazuki asked, cautious. Saizou's visits to Toufuuin didn't normally wear on him this much.

Saizou waved a reassuring hand. "Oh, everyone's fine. My sister, especially." He stretched out his legs and groaned.

Kazuki's concern dissolved in a laugh. "Did she demand a match?" He'd heard a lot about Toufuuin Toshi over the years.

Saizou smiled up at him, ruefully, as he came to perch on the arm of the couch. "I like to think she was being charitable, actually, and helping me work off stress. Or I could be completely wrong, and she just wanted to kick my ass for being gone so much."

"Saizou." The worry crept back. "You know I never want to separate you from your family..."

"Of course I know that," Saizou told him, voice gentle. "And I'm less separated from them now than I used to be." He leaned his head back again and looked up at the ceiling. "Yohan left them pretty much alone after he'd gotten me, but I never wanted to remind him more than I could help." His mouth quirked. "Ironic, that the last thing he ever promised me was to protect them as part of Fuuchouin. In return for services rendered, of course. At least he's still done that."

Kazuki could almost taste the bitterness of Saizou's words when he spoke of his "services" to Yohan. He reached out to brush his fingers through Saizou's hair, seeking to soothe. "That's over now."

Saizou closed his eyes under the touch. "I suppose so," he said quietly.

Which told Kazuki, once again, that it wasn't over. Of all his people, Saizou had been the most viciously wounded, even worse than Kazuki had been himself he thought, and more insidiously. He slid off the arm of the couch and down into Saizou's lap, sliding his arms around him and pressing close; this comfort at least he could offer.

Saizou started at his weight, but it was only a breath before arms closed tight around him, half-desperate in their strength. "Kazuki," Saizou breathed against his hair.

Every protective impulse in Kazuki urged him to gather Saizou to him, to hold and reassure him, but Kazuki knew from personal experience that protection wasn't always what was needed. This time, instead, he made himself relax and lean into Saizou's chest, let himself be cradled in Saizou's arms. The catch of Saizou's breath told him he was right. "I always trusted you," Kazuki said softly. "And I was never wrong."

Saizou caught him closer with a rough sound in his throat. Kazuki rested his head on Saizou's shoulder, content to be here, to accept the shelter of Saizou's embrace. When Saizou lifted a hand to touch his cheek, Kazuki smiled up at him and nestled closer. The tenderness of Saizou's touch, of his mouth on Kazuki's when he lifted Kazuki's chin and kissed him, made Kazuki's heart catch and his breath flutter in his chest.

And this was what Saizou needed. To know he could still offer tenderness and care, to know Kazuki accepted it and wanted it. And he did. Oh, he did.

"Kazuki," Saizou whispered against his lips, and drew back to look at him. "May I have the honor?" he asked, formal and courtly in the way that always made Kazuki blush. It was such a contrast to Saizou's usual jesting.

"Of course," Kazuki murmured back, lashes lowered, and gasped softly as Saizou caught him up in his arms and stood, carrying him through to the bedroom.

It took rather a long time for Saizou to undress him, since he paused at every turn to scatter kisses down Kazuki's shoulders, across his chest and down his stomach, to caress his hips and thighs and press a slow, open mouth to the inside of his knee. Kazuki was panting by the time Saizou finally got around to his own clothes, and felt like his whole body must be glowing with the pleasure of Saizou's touch. Feeling the length of Saizou's body against his, finally, as Saizou gathered him close, made Kazuki moan. Saizou caught the sound in a slow, gentle kiss, and another, and another until Kazuki was more breathless than before.

"My heart," Saizou whispered between kisses. "My lord. My love."

Kazuki twined his arms around Saizou and gasped as long fingers slid down his back and further down between his cheeks, caressing and stroking his entrance. "Saizou..."

"I always loved you," Saizou said in his ear. "Always, I swear it."

"I know. I knew." Kazuki shivered as Saizou's fingers eased away and returned slick and cool. "Saizou, I love—ahh..." Saizou's fingers, opening him, were slow and sure, almost unbearably slow and sure.

"Thank you." Saizou smiled down at him, soft and happy, and kissed him again, swallowing another low moan as his fingers pressed in again, deeper.

Kazuki let himself go, gave himself up to Saizou's hands and the pleasure they brought, and the bright wonder in Saizou's eyes was more reward than the pleasure itself. When Saizou finally settled against him and pressed into him, Kazuki was so warmed, so relaxed he barely felt the stretch of it; all his senses were caught up in the easy slide, the gentle care of Saizou's hands, the tenderness of his kisses. It was almost too much for any one person, and he couldn't do other than answer with everything that was in him, all the passion and all the pliancy. When pleasure spilled over it was just one more strand of heat and sweetness in what Saizou had woven between them.

Saizou gasped against his mouth and caught him closer, stilling, and Kazuki made a pleased sound, hands stroking down Saizou's back. Slowly, slowly, the heat eased, and Saizou's hands caressed him back into cool, stroking the last tremors from his body and leaving him cradled against Saizou's chest, quite relaxed.

Eventually Kazuki regathered enough breath and thought to murmur, "You have remarkable self control."

Saizou's chest moved under his cheek as he chuckled. "I have remarkable inspiration."

Kazuki colored a bit at that, and snuggled closer.

Saizou added, quieter, "And I've wanted for so long to use that self control to bring you pleasure and not harm."

Kazuki looked up at him, reaching up to stroke back fair, damp hair. "You bring me pleasure just being beside me." He had to smile as he admitted, "This pleasure was especially impressive, though."

It was Saizou's turn to blush, and Kazuki curled up in his arms, satisfied with a job well done.

If he had to do it again, he wouldn't object, of course.

A Theme in Pentatonic - Coda

Fuuga celebrates Spring and the new year together. Absolute Fluff, I-3

It had been years since any of them had celebrated the seasonal festivals, but this year Kazuki demanded everyone come along to one of the city shrines for Setsubun. If they were a proper House together, they should act like it, and for all of them propriety included tradition and the festivals.

He'd had to threaten Juubei with a celebration at home, with Juubei playing the Oni, before he agreed, but once they were in the middle of the laughing, shoving, shrieking crowd Juubei lost his stiffness and shoved back with a will. Kazuki laughed as much at that as at the scramble for thrown candies.

They all fetched up, panting and disheveled, at the edge of the crowd, for once focused on nothing more momentous than comparing who had caught what, and brokering trades of favorite sweets. Sakura leaned in Saizou's arms, laughing as Kazuki stole sweets out of Juubei and Toshiki's piles while they dickered.

"There," Kazuki declared, as they found a bench to sit on and eat, in the chilly falling evening. "Wasn't I right about coming out to this?"

"I still don't know why you insisted," Juubei half-grumbled.

"To regain our future," Saizou supplied, catching Juubei's hand to lick off the sticky ends of his fingers. Juubei and Sakura both blushed at that, Kazuki observed with some amusement.

"Regain our future?" Toshiki asked.

"The past is gone," Saizou said softly, leaning back under the shadows of the trees. "It can't be returned. But the future... that we can create or relinquish by our own actions. Once you've let it go, you need to work to get it back again."

Kazuki slid an arm around him and pressed close. "We're touching it again now," he whispered.

Saizou smiled and held him as the other three gathered in around them, close and warm. "Yes. We are. And I'm more grateful to you than there are words to say, for that."

Kazuki touched Toshiki's shoulder, laced his fingers with Juubei's, looked up to meet Sakura's smile. "I couldn't touch it without all of you."

"Then walk forward to it," Sakura said, soft and clear, "and we will be with you."

Kazuki nodded. It was the beginning of spring, and a new year, and he finally felt there was a way forward there to be found.

"Together."

End

Cat's Cradle - Chapter One

Post canon. Kazuki wants to build a relationship with Yohan. Yohan wants to find a new way forward for his clan. Saizou wants to escape the fear of his years with Yohan. And his sister wants everyone to be reasonable for a change. Contains spoilers for Saizou's backstory in vol. 33 and Yohan's in vol. 36. Drama, Fluff, I-3

Kazuki didn't think it was his imagination that this spring was more beautiful than any he remembered. Circumstances might be adding shine to the season, to the faces around him that looked up at the clearing light and the drifting petals, but they were circumstances everyone shared, that everyone felt even if they didn't quite know the reason. He wondered a little whether Yohan let the seasons of the Beltline turn, let himself see and feel this.

He wondered things like that a lot these days.

Did Yohan let the changing season touch his House, was he learning happiness now, had he let go that crane, the child's paper wish, and taken up a Fuuchouin's bell for his strings? As the breeze came up, touched with sun and green, Kazuki wondered. And he could find out, of course. There was no reason he couldn't visit Yohan; they were neighbors after a fashion. More importantly they were brothers.

He also wondered whether Yohan would see it that same way.

It was the flowers that decided him, finally. A few irises had taken hold in one corner of the plaza outside the apartment building where the cement had cracked and water pooled, a striking composition by the hand of nature itself, and they reminded him of Yohan's taunt about flower arranging and their mother's death. At the time it had only been meant to enrage him, but looking back he thought Yohan's faint regret when he said he couldn't arrange flowers had been genuine.

Well of course he couldn't! He'd been raised in Kokuchouin, and Kazuki very much doubted if the fine arts of the main house were taught there. Koto, dance, flower arranging, calligraphy. Though, his mouth quirked at the memory, Yohan had clearly learned to compose poetry one way or another.

Kazuki knew those things, though. And surely it wasn't too late.

It was just as well, perhaps, that the others were out today. Kazuki left a note saying that he had gone to visit his brother and would be back shortly, and walked out into the bright day to cross Lower Town and climb upwards.

He understood the nature of the Beltline much better now than he had at fourteen. The monsters there were shadows of the souls that lived in the place, and he felt neither fear nor satisfaction in clearing them from his way. On this trip he saw only a few people he thought might be real, and they didn't come close, fading away into the Beltline's fluidity. He concentrated on his path and it wasn't too long before the steps of Yohan's compound were under his feet.

The trees were still in summer leaf here, but at least it was the small daytime moon overhead and no flowerless petals skirled past him on the wind. It was a start, he supposed.

The doors opened as he reached them, with no hand on them, and Kazuki smiled. Yohan knew he was here. He followed the path that presented itself through gardens and over pools, through stands of pine that had not grown on the main house grounds; and yet the place was familiar. He wondered if Yohan had created a home here that was both the omote and ura compounds. That would be a hopeful sign, he thought.

At last he reached a room with its screens standing open, overlooking a low waterfall beyond. Yohan sat alone looking out at the water, still and collected. "Aniue," he said quietly.

"Yohan," Kazuki returned, smiling.

"Why have you come?"

"Because I wanted to see my brother again," Kazuki said gently, coming to sit beside him, setting down the small box he'd brought along. Yohan looked at him, solemn and wary but with a shadow of hope at the back of his eyes that gave Kazuki heart. "Besides, there's something I wanted to bring you," he continued, opening the box and lifting out the small arrangement of iris, water, and stones.

Yohan actually blushed. "I didn't..." he started quickly and then stopped, not looking at Kazuki.

"I know that already." Kazuki set the flower quietly before them; as deeply as the Phoenix had touched Yohan's heart, he'd known then that Yohan had lied about their mother being the one dead "flower" he had arranged beautifully. "It's spring." He touched Yohan's shoulder gently. "What does the poet's heart say of that?"

After a moment, Yohan said, softly, "In the spring chill, / as I slept with sword by pillow, / deep at night / my elder brother came to me / in dreams from home."

That caught at Kazuki's heart with the hint that he was indeed welcome here. "You are home now. And courage and friendship come to you and bloom for you."

Yohan reached out and touched a petal lightly. "Truly?"

"Life changes us, just as the seasons change the flowers." Witness the fact that after just five minutes in Yohan's company the language of Kazuki's childhood was coming back to his tongue again. He smiled. "Truly."

Yohan darted a quick, uncertain glance at him, and back at the flower. "I thank you," he murmured.

"There's no need." Nor could Kazuki think of better thanks than being able to sit with his younger brother this way. Remembering his earlier thought, he added, "Did you ever learn the koto?"

Yohan's mouth tightened. "No."

"Would you like to?"

Yohan finally looked up at him, startled. Kazuki waited, patient, while Yohan regathered his composure. "I would like that," he finally said, and looked back down at the flower. "Aniue."

This time the title had less of the bitterness that flavored Yohan's every word about the past, and Kazuki cherished the shy hint of acceptance in it.

That was more than enough to compensate for the argument he was sure would break out at home as soon as he told them he intended to visit the Beltline more frequently.

Kazuki flexed his fingers, making sure the ivory picks were secure on his fingertips. "The more you hear, the more you'll be able to play music by ear, but the way we speak of it is in numbers."

Yohan gave him a sidelong look. "Numbers?"

"Mm." Kazuki smiled. "One for each string. Listen. One." He plucked the first string. "Two. Three." Up the rank he went, and then stilled the strings with his hand. "And if I say ten-nine-eight, five...?" He played the little turn quickly.

Yohan blinked, tilting his head. "Oh."

"Here." Kazuki scooted over, patting the tatami in front of the koto.

Yohan was stiff, at first, prone to plucking the strings too hard, but by the end of the day he could run up and down the full tally of thirteen strings and make them ring clear. Better still, his shoulders had stopped stiffening each time Kazuki set his fingers over Yohan's to guide them.

Yohan frowned faintly at his fingers, touching thumb and index finger together as if testing the sensation, which Kazuki expected was just a bit numb from the pressure of the picks. "Does it have application?"

Kazuki firmly stifled a sigh. He shouldn't expect to undo the habits of years in a handful of days. "Several different ones, I would say. Here. Rest your fingers on the strings down at the end." He shifted around back in front of the instrument and thought for a moment. "Midare Rinzetsu", he decided; he thought Yohan would like the energy and sweeping runs of it better than the slow, melancholy sweetness of the simpler compositions Kazuki had first learned.

It took concentration; it had been a long time since Kazuki had played regularly, and Yatsuhashi's music was always a challenge. He didn't look up until the last notes, measured and resonant. When he did, though, he smiled. Yohan's expression was distant, fingers still resting lightly at the base of the strings, but there was a tiny breath of wonder in his voice as he sighed.

"It really does feel just like our strings." He blinked and looked up at Kazuki. "This is why you always speak of the song of someone's technique."

"Exactly," Kazuki agreed softly.

"I didn't know."

It was only an observation, with no particular emotion in it, but it twisted Kazuki's heart all the same. "That was wrong. How can anyone be expected to understand our arts without this?" Kazuki bent his head over his hands, resting on the strings. "It's been wrong for so long."

Yohan's voice turned dispassionate again. "I expect the division started here, actually." At Kazuki's startled look, he gestured at the instrument. "The left hand and the right are both necessary, but they do very different things, don't they?" The distance in his tone turned darker. "And while the right hand strikes the notes and draws the eye, it's the left that controls the sound."

"Yes," Kazuki said slowly. "I wouldn't be surprised. But both hands are needed, and no one could play if they ignored the left hand techniques." A sudden thought came to him and his mouth quirked. "Well, then, perhaps the new song of Fuuchouin will be a bit more... modern."

He bent over the koto again and struck the opening of Sawai's "Yume". This time he listened to more than just the music, and smiled at the sound Yohan made as his left hand flashed over again and again to pluck the strings, melody weaving back and forth between his hands.

When he sat back this time, he had to shake out his left hand. "I like Sawai's compositions very much," he said, breathless, sweeping his hair back, "but they're very demanding!" He smiled at his brother. "I believe you can master it, though."

Yohan flushed just a little and concentrated on rearranging his sleeves, and Kazuki let it go, satisfied that Yohan had heard what he meant.

Another day, another lesson. Yohan's touch with the picks was getting lighter, and Kazuki thought about that as he listened. Yohan had yet to even attempt one of the more passionate compositions, gravitating instead toward the delicacy of the oldest, most abstract music.

"Yohan," Kazuki said softly, as his brother finished, "what is it you fear?"

Yohan's head came up quickly, and his eyes were wide. Kazuki shifted around to sit beside him, arm around him. "Everyone has their own style, their own favorite music," he continued, feeling Yohan's tension, "but there's music you refuse even to attempt. The music," he finished, quietly, "that would take from what's inside you and set it free on the air."

Yohan laughed, soft and harsh. "Do you really think that's wise, Aniue?"

"I do."

Yohan glanced at him, still tense, but a little less rigid, perhaps startled by Kazuki's firmness.

"This is where our arts began," Kazuki touched the koto's strings, "but setting our passion into these strings will draw no blood. What is there to fear?"

"Myself." Yohan looked away, hair slipping down over his face. "I doubt someone like you understands that."

Kazuki was quiet for a moment, and his voice was cool and light when he spoke, drifting over the memories he never lingered on willingly. "You were not the only one marked with the stigma, little brother. I know that fear. But that seal is lifted now; it's the passions every one of us deal with that you face now." His lips quirked. "If they weren't, you wouldn't hear their reflection in that music you won't touch."

Yohan was still for a long breath. "Everyone?"

Kazuki softened at the innocent unknowing of that question. "Everyone." He drew Yohan closer and murmured, "You're no demon. You never were. You're a child of the world, like all of us." He shook Yohan gently. "So stop trying to escape from life. Both hands are necessary, remember? Pain and joy both."

Yohan looked up at him, and Kazuki's brows rose. He expected the flash of startlement at his rather peremptory tone; he'd meant to rock Yohan out of his habits of thought a bit. What he hadn't quite expected was the flash of yearning, of... happiness? Yohan looked down again before he could be sure.

"Yes, Aniue," he murmured.

Kazuki had more than usual to think about as he left that day.

Kazuki sat with his hands folded and listened to Yohan play.

Another might have wasted time in wonder that, after a mere few months, Yohan was able to play complex compositions with such firm skill. In fact, when Kazuki had considered that at all, he had wondered how frustrated Yohan must be that his progress had been so slow. The cleansing of the stigma had thrown a blanket over the absolute purity and simplicity of Yohan's perception and art, had left his brother uncertain, and his temper the same sometimes.

No, what caught Kazuki's breath short today was the way Yohan played.

Yohan had obeyed him, so meekly it had taken Kazuki aback, and chosen a composition that showed his heart. "Tori no You Ni" demanded a light hand and could easily have been turned into another performance of delicate technique. Today, though, Yohan played with his eyes half closed, swaying with the force of the music. The force of his strike, the timing, the clarity and vibrato he drew from the strings wrung Kazuki's heart. There was grief in the song, wild and passionate, rushing like the wind under straining wings. There was wanting, so intense it almost tore the constraints of the strings themselves. Yet they held.

When Yohan finished, he turned his face quickly away from the instrument and Kazuki rose and came to wipe away the dampness on his brother's cheeks. "This," he said gently. "This is what the koto teaches us."

"This..." Yohan swallowed and said, husky, "this is the Phoenix."

"It's the source of it, yes." Kazuki stroked his hair back.

And then he frowned. This close he could see dark smudges starting under Yohan's eyes. "Yohan, have you been sleeping poorly?"

Yohan waved a hand shortly. "I don't have time to sleep right now. I need to re-learn half my own techniques, and half the servants with the cursed seal don't want to be freed, and..." He broke off blinking as Kazuki touched a finger to his lips.

"In other words, you haven't been sleeping enough." Kazuki shook his head at Yohan. "You have to take better care of yourself than that."

"In what time?" Yohan asked flatly.

"Right now." As Yohan just stared at him, Kazuki smiled and gathered him closer. "No one will disturb you while I'm here, will they?" He tugged gently until Yohan rested against him, stiff and startled. "So sleep. I'll see nothing happens while you do." He eased Yohan down to his lap, smiling as Yohan looked up at him, apparently at a loss.

"Aniue... But..."

Kazuki trusted his intuition and scraps of experience so far and said, very firmly, "Hush. Rest now, little brother." He knew he was right when the stiffness when out of Yohan, and settled Yohan's head comfortably in his lap. "Sleep." There was so much he couldn't restore to Yohan, but this he could give—an elder brother to watch over him.

He stroked Yohan's hair gently, steadily until Yohan's eyes closed, and his breath finally evened out into sleep.

Kazuki had less experience than Yohan with imposing his will on the Beltline, but he focused intently on the quiet, the isolation, the sunlit calm of this room, on turning away all worries and concerns. And, as minutes slid by and the sun moved slowly across the tatami, warming them, the only sounds were running water and the light, shifting song of birds beyond the screens.

The sunlight was slanting downward, and the air was cooling before he heard the scuff of feet out in the hall, and an approaching voice.

"Finally found you, honestly Yohan it's not like you have to hide..."

Kazuki snorted softly to himself as Maiya slid a screen aside.

"There you are!"

"Maiya. Quietly," he said, low.

She looked at Yohan, curled up asleep, and pressed a hand to her lips. "Sorry!" she whispered. Slipping in she closed the screen silently. "You actually got him to sleep?"

"He certainly needed it." And he wasn't exactly blaming Yohan's people, but his voice was cool on the observation.

Maiya sighed, folding down to the tatami, long sleeves flipped expertly out of the way. "I know. We do try. He just doesn't listen." She smiled wryly, looking down at him. "Well, not to us anyway."

Kazuki was quiet at that confirmation that he wasn't imagining things. Yohan really did seem to want Kazuki to guide him, and even scold him, like an older brother. Well, Kazuki thought he could do that; he was very glad to, in fact, to reclaim this little bit of what they might have had. He smiled down at Yohan, stroking back his hair again.

"I... never did get a chance to thank you."

Kazuki looked up at that, brows raised. Maiya was looking down at her hands.

"You saved us. All of us, in the end."

"That was my duty as the head of this House at the time," Kazuki said quietly.

"I know. Even so." Maiya set her hands on the tatami and bowed profoundly. "For Yuuri's life and mine. For the soul of our brother and Master. For the existence of our very House. I thank you most humbly, Kazuki-sama."

"And for the care you've taken of my brother, I thank you as well," Kazuki told her gently, and smiled when she looked up, eyes wide. "Only continue to stand by him, and that will be all the return I could ask."

She ducked her head again, and murmured, husky, "I will."

Yohan finally stirred, rubbing his eyes. "Maiya?" he yawned, and sat up blinking. Kazuki steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Good morning!" Maiya chirped, and Kazuki had to swallow a smile at the distinctly exasperated look Yohan gave her. If nothing else, she would surely help him learn to deal with people a bit less formally.

"What is it, Maiya?"

"Ah. Well." Maiya coughed delicately. "You do remember that Gorou-san wanted to speak to you?"

Yohan sighed. "I remember." From his tone he would rather not.

"Something troublesome?" Kazuki asked, sympathetic, tugging Yohan's kimono and haori back into order.

"Since I have yet to work out exactly what it is he wants, I don't know yet." Yohan sounded irritated by that, too.

"Well, perhaps it will be something cheerful like marriage candidates," Kazuki soothed. And then had to laugh at the horrified look Yohan gave him, eyes flicking ever so briefly to Maiya. "And when you've chosen, I'll teach her the Phoenix," Kazuki teased gently.

"I... I'm sure it isn't that," Yohan managed past his unaccustomed flusterment.

"You're evil Kazuki-sama," Maiya said, admiring.

"Only in a good cause." Kazuki relented, smiling. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll deal with it well."

Yohan collected himself. "Will I see you Friday, then?"

"Of course." Kazuki leaned over to press a quick kiss to Yohan's forehead. "And before that, if you need me."

That made Yohan color just a little. "Thank you, Aniue," he murmured.

Kazuki rose, pleased with his new insight and the opportunities it offered to protect and cosset his brother. "For now, though, I should get home before the others worry so much they come looking for me."

Maiya grinned at that, looking past his shoulder. "Too late."

Kazuki blinked and looked around and sighed. Indeed, Juubei was standing in the open screen across the room. "Juubei."

"You weren't back at the usual time."

"I am perfectly capable of walking here and back without coming to any grief," Kazuki pointed out, though he knew quite well that this simple fact would have no impact on Juubei's protectiveness. Juubei didn't dignify the observation with an answer, simply waiting for him quietly. Kazuki shook his head, giving in. "Take care of Yohan, Maiya," he directed, in parting.

Maiya looked back and forth between Kazuki and Yohan, thoughts moving behind her bright eyes. "Of course, Kazuki-sama," she agreed, leaning over to twine her arm through Yohan's. When Yohan glanced up at Kazuki and failed to pull away, she and Kazuki exchanged a look of understanding and complicity. Maiya, Kazuki was satisfied, would borrow Kazuki's name as often as necessary to make Yohan take care of his health at least.

Kazuki swept up Juubei as he left, well pleased with the day's progress.

Gradually, Kazuki had started to see more people than Yohan, when he visited, sometimes Maiya or Yuuri, sometimes someone from one of the surviving cousin branches who nodded to him uncomfortably, sometimes one of the silent Kokuchouin retainers. Today the man who opened the gates for him was startled out of his usual unobtrusive quiet to stare at Juubei, pacing at Kazuki's shoulder.

"This really isn't necessary you know," Kazuki said one more time as Juubei followed him into the summer green of the Fuuchouin compound.

"We can hardly guard you, as is our duty, if we aren't with you." Juubei paused by one of the outer pavilions. "I can wait here if you wish, though."

Kazuki sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was about time he started binding the length of it back again, he noted absently. "I should leave you to Maiya's company." Juubei gave him a perfectly bland look and Kazuki couldn't help a laugh. "Oh, all right."

He left Juubei in the outer gardens and went to find Yohan. He found his brother in one of the inner rooms, today, looking out across a small, raked courtyard, hands folded on his knees.

"Aniue. May I beg a favor of you?" Yohan asked, more formally than he usually spoke these days.

"Of course." Kazuki settled beside him, curious. Yohan's face was very still.

"Spar with me."

Kazuki took a breath. In a way, he'd been expecting this for weeks; their conversations over the koto had always turned, sooner or later, to the application of the Fuuchouin arts. To the distinctions and interrelations of the omote and ura techniques. "If you wish."

"I don't entirely know where I stand anymore," Yohan said quietly. "You're the only one strong enough to test that against."

"I understand." Kazuki stood and held a hand down to his brother. "We can both find out."

And he did understand. For those first few weeks after he'd sealed away the stigma, when he was younger, he'd felt as though he couldn't quite see properly any more. As though nothing was exactly where he'd thought it should be. As memory had faded, he'd forgotten the disorientation too, but it had come back to him after the recent troubles, after he'd wakened and then rejected the stigma. He truly wasn't sure what he himself was capable of now, and as they walked out, beyond the delicate groves of trees to an open, grassy ring, he wondered how this would end.

They started slowly, with the simple barriers and direct strikes that children of the clan might use. Both of them controlled those techniques easily, only just touching each other when a strike slipped through. As they moved faster, turning around each other, they worked up the scale of complexity and one strike and counter built on another and sang through the air around them, Rain to clear the Mist, the Red Bird to ward away the Comet, strategy and power twining together into a single strand. It was intoxicating and, even as Kazuki felt his art wavering on the edge of his ability to grasp, he was almost laughing.

Yohan, though, was frustrated; Kazuki could see it in the tightening of his mouth, the tension in his forearms as his control, too, faltered. One moment his attacks were hard enough to push Kazuki's strings back but too hard to slip past; the next they flowed through like water, like light, but too slow to catch him.

Kazuki hesitated, hand poised to form the Flower Dance, looking a question at Yohan. Were they ready to try the final scroll? In answer Yohan's hand flashed up, sending the form darting for him first. Kazuki breathed and stepped into it, and threw the Whirlwind back at him.

Both of them were bleeding by the time they regained their stances.

Kazuki felt none of the crushing power that had marked Yohan's strings the last time they'd fought, but moment by moment Yohan's fingers steadied and, slowly, the line of his mouth relaxed. Kazuki nodded to himself and pushed harder, faster, spinning the Empty Moon around his brother. A breath passed as it closed.

Another.

When the countersurge of Yohan's strings undid the sphere, Kazuki laughed out loud even as Yohan's strings closed around him in turn.

Kazuki shook back his hair as Yohan released him, and went to catch his brother in his arms. "You watched me for a long time, didn't you?" he murmured as Yohan stiffened, startled.

"What..."

"You didn't use the black strings at all today," Kazuki pointed out. "Only the omote techniques."

Yohan shrugged. "It never made any difference to me where a technique came from; they were all the same."

"Once you saw them, yes." Kazuki smiled as Yohan's eyes shifted, even it it was a bit sad. "I was the only one you could have learned most of that from." He shook his head as Yohan started to speak. "I'm honored to teach you. It's my job, after all; you're my heir, aren't you?"

Yohan opened his mouth and closed it again, eyes a bit wide. "Aniue."

Kazuki rested his hands on Yohan's shoulders. "Better now?"

Yohan actually smiled a little. "Yes." He glanced down and back up, collected but Kazuki could read the shyness in his reserve now. "May we do this again?"

"Of course," Kazuki told him gently.

He was sufficiently distracted by his pleasure at this development that he didn't think what it would look like to Juubei when he emerged from the House scuffed and bloody, and had to spend a solid five minutes talking him down. Juubei didn't quite mutter under his breath, but he looked like he wanted to as he briskly sewed up the cuts before letting Kazuki go another step.

"You've seen me in considerably worse shape from training, when we were younger," Kazuki pointed out, wincing a bit but holding still.

Juubei actually glowered at him and Kazuki sighed, resigning himself to another few days of overprotectiveness. As Juubei led the way back down the steps of the Fuuchouin House, back stiff, though, Kazuki paused, attention caught.

"Kazuki?" Juubei looked back, as though he was contemplating carrying Kazuki home bodily, but Kazuki didn't mind that at the moment.

He reached up and touched the delicate leaves of the maple that grew by the steps. They were just barely tipped with autumn red.

"It's all right," he told Juubei, softly. "Everything's all right."

Cat's Cradle - Chapter Three

Kazuki watches Yohan and Toshi draw closer, and contributes some maneuvering in the background to move things along. Drama, Fluff, I-3

Kazuki had expected to see more of Saizou's sister, as Toufuuin's acting Master came and went from Yohan's home. What he hadn't expected was to see her at Yohan's instead of his home.

When he visited Yohan to find he and Toshi pouring through some ancient scrolls, he was only surprised. When he found them out in one of the winter-bare gardens, experimenting with forms, he was amused. When he found her arguing vociferously with Yuuri over whether the object forming techniques should remain hidden, and Yohan watching with quiet interest, he was impressed with her dedication.

When he found her listening to Yohan play koto he started to wonder.

"Trading more techniques?" he asked as Yohan closed the piece, stepping softly into the room. Both of them started a little, looking around, and his brows went up; Yohan always knew when someone else was in his house.

Toshi shook her head ruefully. "It wouldn't do any good. I don't play; I was just listening."

Kazuki blinked. "You don't?" He knew not all the Houses were as strict in their training as the main House was, but he'd thought everyone at least learned koto. It was the root of their art, after all.

"Oh, I have the basic skills," Toshi waved a hand. "I can follow a written piece of music well enough I suppose. But I just don't have the ear for music the way you two do."

Yohan promptly looked out the screens, coloring faintly, and Kazuki stifled a smile. "That must have made training frustrating for you," he said, drawing attention away from his brother's embarrassment at being complimented, even indirectly.

Toshi's dimple flashed as she smiled. "It was. So I argued with Otou-sama until he let me do something else for basic dexterity exercises."

Yohan looked back around at that. "What did you do?" he asked, head tilted curiously.

"Well... here, I'll show you." Toshi uncoiled a string and looped it around her hands. Her fingers flashed back and forth through the string and she pulled her hands apart to show a squared web of strings between them. "This is the butterfly."

Kazuki looked again and saw the broad upper wings and the narrow lower ones. "String figures?"

She shook it loose and her hands darted together again. "And this is the koto," she grinned.

Well, Kazuki supposed it was a good dexterity exercise at that, though he couldn't imagine it was as good for fine control as playing. Yohan, though, was looking at Toshi thoughtfully. "You normally go faster than that, don't you?"

It was Toshi's turn to color. "When I'm practicing seriously, yes. Onii-sama wouldn't agree it was good training until I could make a figure faster than he could get one of his strings into it to stop me." She looped the string around her hands again and paused for a breath.

This time Kazuki could barely see her fingers moving and the string sang as her fingertips plucked and shifted it. All in a flash, the long string closed into an oval knot between her spread hands. "That's the tortoise," she murmured, holding it up.

Yohan smiled, faint but true.

Toshi coiled her string up and asked them to play koto again, and Kazuki obliged. But he remembered that smile.

The next time Kazuki visited Yohan, though, the young woman he saw there was not Toshi. As he came out into the inner garden, he found Yohan in rather stiff conversation with someone Kazuki decided, after a minute's thought, might be a cousin on his mother's side, a girl a few years younger than Yohan with the same straight, heavy hair their mother had.

"Aniue." There was a definite note of relief in Yohan's voice, and Kazuki was fairly sure the girl heard it too.

"I must be keeping you from your business, forgive me," she murmured, not looking up. "I should be going." She bowed and shook her long sleeves back into place with a gesture that made Kazuki nostalgic.

"Not at all," he told her kindly. "It's good to see you and know you are well."

A slight gesture from Yohan brought a Kokuchouin retainer to escort her out and Yohan sat down on the engawa with a thump, careless for once of the disorder of his robes.

"What's this all about?" Kazuki asked, amused.

"They really are trying to marry me off!" Yohan drove a hand through his hair. "It started with Gorou, who wants me to marry a Kokuchouin girl to mix the bloodlines again, and then Takeo and Akihito decided it should be a Fuuchouin girl instead, and the lot of them have been dragging every girl they can find out here to parade past me."

Kazuki managed to turn his laugh into a cough but Yohan glared at him anyway. "I ought to tell them I'm going to marry Maiya," he muttered.

Kazuki sat beside him, setting down the bundle he'd brought, and leaned back to enjoy the early summer sun. "She is one of the people who's closest to you, after all," he agreed, though he was reasonably sure Maiya was too much Yohan's sister to be his wife.

"And she's a warrior," Yohan added, frowning in the direction the girl—the latest girl apparently—had left. "None of these will even look at me!"

"You are the clan lord, after all," Kazuki reminded him gently. "And they were undoubtedly raised to know what's proper."

Yohan frowned down at his hands. "I don't want a wife I could ignore." As their mother's council had been fatally ignored, hung unspoken in the air between them.

"Maiya would certainly not stand for being ignored," Kazuki murmured, seeking to lighten the shadow over his brother today. To his surprise, that shadow only deepened.

"I frightened her, though," Yohan said, low.

Kazuki frowned and wrapped an arm around Yohan, drawing him close. "What do you mean?"

Yohan was silent for long moments. "It was when you were coming through the Beltline, last winter," he finally said. "All I could think of was that you were coming, at last. And I would kill you. Or you would kill me. It didn't matter to me which, then. If I'd killed you, I'd just have died after, because there would have been nothing left. I was... I felt... intoxicated with it. And I kissed her. I'm not even sure what I was thinking, any more." He took a deep breath and let it out, shaking. "And I frightened her."

Kazuki's eyes had been widening all through Yohan's speech, and now he turned and pulled his brother tight into his arms. "I expect so, yes," he said quietly, breath stirring the fine, fair strands of Yohan's hair.

"These proper, retiring girls they bring to show me," Yohan whispered, "they're afraid already."

"Someone will come who isn't afraid," Kazuki said firmly. If he was right, someone already had, after all. But he wasn't sure enough of that to say it yet. He stroke Yohan's hair back and tipped his chin up. "Do you want to spar, today?"

Relief flickered in Yohan's eyes again. "You brought flowers, though," he said, glancing at the package Kazuki had set beside them.

"The calla and water lilies will bloom for a while yet," Kazuki told him. "And even when they don't, there will be other flowers." He smiled. "Sometimes I think that's the true lesson of ikebana. There will always be flowers still; they just won't be the same ones." Now that Yohan had finally agreed to let Kazuki teach him this, it would keep.

"Then yes." Yohan closed his eyes for a moment. "Please."

Kazuki pulled him up off the engawa and toward the practice grounds.

Their matches were a joy to Kazuki, especially now that Yohan had regained his balance and his mastery of their arts without the stigma. The song of Yohan's strings was light and fierce, now, not dampened by despair. Today they played out a match of subtlety and maneuver, rarely striking directly, layering form on form to create attacks from blind spots. The last one Kazuki only escaped by casting down the Comet to break it, and he spread his hands, laughing.

"My loss."

Yohan was smiling again, relaxed. "In a way."

Kazuki refastened his bells and ruffled Yohan's hair. "Stop fishing for compliments, little brother," he scolded. "You're still stronger than I am."

Yohan's smile quirked and he murmured, "In a way, Aniue."

Kazuki was still smiling when he made his way into the outer gardens, expecting to find Juubei there. What he found, though, was the girl he'd met this afternoon in low-voiced conversation with a woman at least ten years older.

"...should have seen the way Yohan-sama smiled at him," the girl was whispering. "I've never seen anything like it!"

The woman sighed. "As if it weren't bad enough that we have the memory of their mother to compete with. I've heard this before, that Kazuki-sama has grown to be Hana-sama alive again." She looked up to see Kazuki standing at the foot of the bridge and her eyes widened. "Kazuki-sama!" She bowed, hastily but with grace. The girl was more flustered and nearly lost a shoe, turning to make her own bow. Kazuki returned it, politely ignoring both the gossip and their discomposure. As the woman rose he finally recognized her as a second cousin he'd met sometimes during festivals; the girl must be her younger sister, then.

"Megumi-san, it's good to see you again after so long," he said, as if he hadn't heard a thing.

"And you as well, Kazuki-sama," she murmured, cheeks red. She nudged her sister aside as Kazuki crossed the bridge, and he left them to recover their composure.

He didn't turn toward the gate yet, though. He headed back around the compound, though the trees, to find Maiya.

If she couldn't ward this genteel assault off directly, he was fairly sure she'd still be perfectly willing to interrupt these would-be marriage interviews in her own inimitable fashion, and he had no intention of leaving his brother to deal with this alone.

One of the things Kazuki treasured most were the moments when Yohan relaxed for him, enough to sleep. Sleep was a demonstration of both trust and hope, for his little brother, and the sweetness of having Yohan asleep in his lap made Kazuki's entire world soft and bright. It didn't happen very often, even now.

Yohan had started out, today, insisting he was fine, but Kazuki had kept an eye on him as he guided Yohan through the little steps and choices of creating a flower arrangement and had seen the droop in his shoulders. Once the delicate stalks of lavender were arranged in their holder, he'd insisted that Yohan rest and Yohan had finally agreed. So when the door slid open, as Yohan's sleeping weight rested against his shoulder, he looked up with a frown, ready to warn off whoever dared to intrude.

Toshi stopped one step into the room, fingers pressed to her lips. It was a long moment before she managed to drag her eyes away from Yohan, long enough that Kazuki started to smile, and when she finally did she pointed to herself and back to the door, head tipped in a question.

She probably didn't even realize she was nibbling her lip, or that so much tenderness was plain to read in her eyes. It was that that decided Kazuki and he shook his head with a smile and freed one hand to pat the tatami beside him lightly. She crossed the room on tip toes and sat beside them silently.

"Yohan doesn't always sleep enough," Kazuki murmured, breath barely stirring the air of the room.

"He drives himself," Toshi whispered, frowning. "Only... it's him so it doesn't seem that way."

Kazuki smiled, pleased with her insight and sad at the truth of it. "His skill and power let him accomplish things no one else can, sometimes even with ease. But that doesn't mean he drives his heart any less hard, pursuing those things."

"Yes. Yes, that." Toshi's hand reached toward him for a second before she caught herself and tucked it back into her sleeve.

"I'm glad to know someone else visits, who will care for him." Toshi blushed at that, and Kazuki caught back a chuckle before it could disturb Yohan. "You have your brother's protective streak. I imagine it will stand you in good stead."

Toshi looked at him sidelong. Kazuki hid his amusement carefully. She was opening her mouth, probably to ask if he was teasing, or how much he knew, when Yohan stirred against his shoulder and rubbed his eyes.

"Aniue?" he murmured.

"Yes." Kazuki stroked back his hair, fingers gentle. "And Toshi, too."

Yohan smiled, small. "I thought so." He sat up, drawing his robes straight again, and he and Toshi looked at each other with pleased expressions.

Kazuki was starting to wonder if the entire world except him was blind, that no one else seemed to have spotted this going on. "Well, now that your research partner is here, shall I leave you to it?" he asked, lightly.

"Oh, you don't have to go, Kazuki-san," Toshi said quickly, but Kazuki noticed that Yohan hadn't answered and smiled.

"No, it's all right. I don't want Juubei to worry if I stay too long." He leaned forward and kissed Yohan's forehead and rose. "Take care of him," he added to Toshi in parting, meeting her eyes for a moment and watching them widen.

"I will," she promised.

Kazuki left them to it and made his way back out through the house, satisfied.

Kazuki had, so far, been mildly amused by the clan's efforts to find Yohan a bride, mostly because Yohan himself had been more exasperated by it than anything else. At the end of the summer, that changed.

He didn't find Yohan out in the gardens, or in the room by the waterfall, or even on the training ground, and finally went in search of Maiya instead. He found her outside one of the interior rooms, sitting beside a barely open door and chewing her lip. She looked up as he approached and he stiffened at the worry on her face. She beckoned him closer, pressing a finger to her lips. Kazuki settled silently beside her and peeked through the door.

The first thing he saw was Yohan's back, and the things he'd learned in the last year made him frown; Yohan was tense, shoulders too straight to be anything else. Looking past that, Kazuki's brows went up. In a half circle around Yohan sat the Fuuchouin councilors. Toshi sat to his right and Seifuuin Koshijirou to his left; between those two were the three surviving Fuuchouin elders and their new Kokuchouin compatriot.

"It would be reassuring to all if you took one of the Fuuchouin girls as wife," Fuuchouin Takeo was saying, persuasively. "Surely if you wish to repair the breach between the Houses that would be the best way."

That argument Kazuki hadn't heard before, and he frowned. How long had they been pressuring Yohan on those grounds? He drew a string out delicately, not letting his bell chime, and cast it through the door to Yohan's ear. "I'm here for you, if you wish," he whispered down it.

Yohan's shoulders relaxed a fraction and he nodded, as if to Takeo. "It would do little to reinforce the unity of the clan if it is evident that my Fuuchouin wife and I never speak."

"It would lend legitimacy, at least," old Seiji grumbled, and Kazuki's mouth tightened. He stood and nodded to Maiya, who knelt, grinning, and slid open the door for him to step through.

"And what cause do any have to question the legitimacy of my heir and successor?" he asked, settling back to the tatami beside Yohan. And, carefully, just a bit behind him. He lifted his brows in calm question at the councilors, who gaped back at him.

"Kazuki-sama!"

"What..."

"When did you..."

Through the sudden, chopped off babble, Takeo said, "Your heir, Kazuki-sama?"

"Indeed." Kazuki smiled, serene. "You may say that, during the previous ten years, I was the proper Master of Fuuchouin. But I have given over that responsibility to my younger brother. He has even completed the Kachoufuugetsu," he added, just to prick them.

He could see Takeo and Akihito shift uneasily, reminded of Yohan's strength and ability to master techniques he had only just seen, and felt the tiniest bit revenged for Yohan's tension.

"A proper succession should have been approved by the clan's councilors," Seiji said, gruff.

"Well, then, what is left but for you to approve?" Kazuki asked, and sat calmly while the debate ran aground for a silent moment on the double edge of his question.

Finally Takeo sighed. "What you say may be true. But, Kazuki-sama, a child of the hidden House..."

Kazuki felt Yohan drawing taut again, beside him, and he'd had more than enough of this. He rose, smooth and abrupt, and stood over them. "Yohan is the child of my mother and my father," he stated, cold and low. "What do you imply?"

They started back from him, even the head of Seifuuin. They remembered the sweetness of the child, no doubt. But he was not a child any longer. He had been, for ten years, Kazuki of the Strings, the Prince of Terror, most feared of the four kings of Lower Town, and he had no intention of tolerating this foolish obstruction.

Finally Yohan stirred and looked up at him. "Aniue," he said, quietly.

Kazuki looked down and saw the faint light of amusement in Yohan's eyes, though none touched his face. He sniffed and settled back to his knees. "Very well."

And if any had doubted that Kazuki had truly given over rule of the clan into Yohan's hands, they should not doubt it now.

"My honored elder brother has been a long while among rough elements," Yohan murmured in his most formal periods. "And he is now unaccustomed to having his will crossed."

Kazuki choked down a laugh at the irony of such a statement from Yohan, of all people, but it did its job. He could see the councilors' expressions changing as they really looked at him, at his clothes even, which were very much not traditional or formal—as Yohan's were. As they thought about what kind of clan lord he might make now. Yohan had a talent for this kind of maneuver, Kazuki thought with pride.

Takeo cleared his throat. "I intended no insult to Hana-sama, I assure you, nor does anyone doubt Yohan-sama's birth."

Kazuki followed the advantage while they had it. "My brother is blood of Fuuchouin, the highest of Fuuchouin, and yet raised among the Kokuchouin. Who else could possibly heal our clan? Who else would have the knowledge and the compassion to to do?" And if Yohan was still new to his compassion, well more shame to the clan that it took that long for anyone to show it to him.

"Even so, it would soothe the clan if he had a wife of Fuuchouin rearing," Akihito murmured, and Kazuki started to wonder if he really would have to do something drastic to one of them to break through this stubbornness.

Before he could decide how to convey the offer to Yohan though, Toshi, who had been quiet so far, interrupted, slapping a hand down to the tatami beside her knee. "I will hear no more of this!"

Kazuki blinked, wondering for one shocked moment if she was actually going to put her own intentions forward here and now.

But no. She rose and stood in front of Yohan, facing the elders. "Kokuchouin Yohan is the Master of Fuuchouin and the lord of this clan! Toufuuin has acknowledged him and will tolerate no more of this insolence!"

"Are you so sure of your brother's feelings in this?" Akihito asked sharply.

"I speak with his voice, in this as in all else," Toshi shot back with such iron certainty that Akihito subsided. "Toufuuin follows Yohan-sama." She gave Koshijirou a narrow look, and he gave her back a sardonic smile.

"Our clan lord is the strongest wielder of our arts living," he observed. "Seifuuin follows him." Obviously his tone added.

"I have no intention of challenging the Master of my House," Takeo started, exasperated.

"Then you will say no more of this," Toshi cut over him. "Your council has been heard. Now be silent." She stalked to the outer door and threw it open, pausing in the doorway to glance imperiously over her shoulder. Koshijirou bowed to Yohan and joined her with a smirk at the elders, who, after a few glances back and forth, gave in and followed. Toshi saw the last of them out of the room, turned and bowed to Yohan, and closed the door after her very firmly.

"Well," Kazuki said after a moment. "She knows how to get things done."

"She does," Yohan said, low, looking aside. Kazuki turned and gathered him close, protective.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked against Yohan's hair.

"Ever since I refused the last woman less than twenty years my elder they found to parade in front of me," Yohan sighed, leaning against Kazuki's shoulder wearily. "A few weeks."

"At least Toshi sympathizes," Kazuki offered.

Yohan laughed softly. "She complains whenever one of their visits interrupts one of ours, at any rate."

Kazuki hesitated, but who else was going to speak with Yohan about these things? "She likes you, I think."

Yohan looked up at him, startled. "She... does?"

Kazuki really couldn't help smiling at his surprise, and stroked his hair back gently. "She visits almost as often as I do, doesn't she?"

"She helps me research some of the lost techniques." It was more a question than a statement, though.

"And she talks with you. And she listens to you play. And she defends you from your unwanted suitors," Kazuki added.

Yohan actually blushed. "You really think so?" he murmured, fingers fidgeting with the edge of Kazuki's sleeve.

"I'm almost positive." And he was definitely positive that Yohan liked her back, which seemed a much better start than he had with any other candidate.

"Oh."

Kazuki smiled, satisfied that he'd done his duty as a big brother. Now he just wondered when one of them would manage to bring the topic up.

Cat's Cradle - Chapter Four

When Toshi makes her choice known, Saizou has to deal with everything that's still between he and Yohan. Drama, Fluff, Angst, I-4

"You want to what?" Saizou yelped, staring at his little sister while Toshiki snatched for his coffee mug before it could hit the floor.

She lifted her chin in that way that made his stomach sink because it wasn't just stubborn. That was her "doing the right thing" expression. "I want to marry Yohan."

Saizou sat down with a thump in the nearest kitchen chair. "But you can't... I mean that's... Yohan?"

"It will stop the clan elders arguing over whether he should marry Fuuchouin or Kokuchouin blood, everyone in the clan knows me or at least knows of me, and Yohan won't have a wife who isn't a warrior," she listed off briskly. "And besides, I..." she looked down at her hands, clasped on the kitchen table, "I... want to."

"You've already agreed to this?" Saizou asked, feeling a little dazed.

"Well no. Not exactly." She reclasped her hands. "It would mean I couldn't serve as your voice any more, so I wanted to talk to you first."

Saizou scrubbed his hands over his face. "Toshi..." His little sister wanted to marry Yohan. His little sister wanted to marry Yohan. Toshiki patted his shoulder with a heartless chuckle, but he also gave Saizou back his filled coffee mug. Saizou clutched it and tried to make his brain work.

"Onii-sama, do you... really dislike him?" Toshi asked hesitantly.

Saizou took a fortifying slug of coffee. "It's more complicated than that," he muttered. "I know he's changed, Toshi, but I've seen him do horrifying things." Some of them had been done to Saizou himself.

"I know."

Saizou looked up, startled, and Toshi met his eyes levelly. "I know. He told me some of them. When I asked why Takeo-san and Akihito-san were being so stubborn about getting a Fuuchouin wife. But he has changed since then. He's..." she looked down again, cheeks pink, "he's kind. And brilliant. And he really wants to do what's best."

Saizou groaned. Under her hard-headed presentation, his sister was an idealist at heart; if those two had bonded over that it was all over except the question of what flowers she'd wear for the ceremony.

Still.

"Toshi, are you really sure about this?" he couldn't help asking.

She glared at him. "Onii-sama, you are so—"

"Toshi," Kazuki interrupted, hands sliding over Saizou's shoulders. "Let us talk this over among ourselves."

She sat back with a huff, still looking daggers at Saizou. "Oh all right."

Juubei, who Saizou could just tell was hiding amusement behind that deadpan look, pushed away from the doorway where he'd been leaning. "Ane-chan asked if you would like to visit, the next time you were in Lower Town," he offered.

As she left with him, spine almost as stiff as his, Saizou let his head drop back against Kazuki's stomach. "What the hell am I going to do?"

"You're going to stop panicking and relax," Kazuki told him.

"Easier said than done."

Toshiki turned a chair around and sat, resting his arms across the back as he regarded Saizou. "I know you've forgiven him, even if you can't actually deal with him very well," he said. "So what's got you so knotted up about this?"

"It's my sister!" Saizou waved his hands, unable to find any stronger words than that.

"And it's my brother," Kazuki murmured, arms folding around his shoulders and drawing him back again. Saizou bit his lip.

"I don't mean he'd do anything to her," he started.

"Shh." Kazuki pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "I know. It's just that they'll be very close, and they might hurt each other. And we don't want that to happen."

Saizou craned his head back to look up at Kazuki. "How are you so calm about this?"

Kazuki smiled down at him. "Because I've watched them falling in love for half a year."

Saizou opened his mouth and closed it again. "And you didn't tell me?"

"They've also been studiously avoiding admitting it, the whole time," Kazuki pointed out. "And if you'd mentioned it to Toshi before she did, who knows what would have happened?"

Toshiki rested his chin on his arms with a wry grin. "Always a step ahead."

"Because he cheats," Saizou muttered.

"Well, if you want to see for yourself, why don't you come with me, the next time she visits him?" Kazuki returned.

Toshiki laughed out loud, probably at Saizou's expression, Saizou admitted ruefully. "I yield," he sighed, and lifted one of Kazuki's hands to kiss the back.

"Good," Kazuki said comfortably. "Because it's about time you did see them for yourself."

They obviously had Kazuki's blessing already, so Saizou tried not to worry. Too much.

"Are you sure...?" Saizou asked for the sixth or so time.

"We're far from the only ones watching those two," Kazuki murmured, nodding to a Kokuchouin retainer as they slipped quietly up the stairs. "Besides Maiya, and sometimes even Takeo these days, at least half of Yohan's retainers find an excuse to keep an eye on them. Yohan won't notice us in the crowd. This should do." They emerged onto one of the second level open rooms and Kazuki knelt behind the balcony half-wall and gestured Saizou down beside him.

Peeking over, he could see Toshi and Yohan sitting on one of the garden benches below.

Toshi was teaching Yohan string figures.

"Now the little fingers go all the way over to get the thumb string." She illustrated, and Yohan followed but missed one side. "Ah, keep the tension on the string! Here." She shook her string off her fingers and helped Yohan recover his, fingers dancing over the web of his strings as she directed. Yohan was looking studiously at his hands, but he was also smiling in a way that a loop of tangled string really didn't deserve.

"There! The butterfly."

Yohan did it a few more times and regarded the figure between his hands. "The Butterfly is also your favorite form, isn't it? Your fighting pattern always comes back to it."

Toshi's mouth quirked, and her fingers flickered through three figures in quick succession. "Well, actually... the Flowing River is my favorite. Enough that Onii-sama said I needed to stop using it so much."

"Ah. The Butterfly is your reminder, then."

Toshi smiled, fingers slowing again. "Yes, exactly! It helps me to remember the indirect approaches."

Yohan tipped his head, looking at her for a long moment. "Saizou is wise. But you should use Flowing River more often, I think. To deflect and strike through the center that way is very true to the heart of you."

Toshi's fingers stilled entirely, and the two of them just sat there looking at each other, apparently oblivious to anything else in the world. Saizou slid down behind the half-wall with a quiet sigh.

"They really are totally in love, aren't they?"

"They do seem to be." Kazuki settled beside him, shoulder touching his. "I've found them training and researching and talking about philosophy and history and even gardening, but sooner or later it always seems to come down to this." He gestured at the silent, absorbed couple below them.

"I should have known the very first day," Saizou muttered. "When she hustled him for a match."

Kazuki pressed a hand over his mouth, eyes dancing. "Does it run in the family?" he asked, once his shoulders had stopped shaking with laughter.

"Seems to." Saizou shook his head, rueful.

Yohan's voice drifted up from below. "Show me another one?"

"Come on," Saizou whispered. "I don't think I can take much for of the syrup before I drown."

They had slipped down the stairs and back out through the house, all the way to the bridge on the outer path before he put a finger on what was oddest about the whole afternoon. "Yohan really didn't seem to know we were there," he said finally.

"Mm." Kazuki perched on one of the railings. "That does seem to happen a good deal; every now and then I've surprised him walking into the room when he's with her. He seems to focus on her very exclusively when they're together."

"The Beltline was a lot... quieter, today, too."

"Yohan's is the strongest will here," Kazuki said quietly.

"You're saying he quiets it for her." Saizou crossed his arms and leaned against the other railing, considering that.

"More than that. I think she quiets him enough that the effect blankets the entire Beltline. It's been getting calmer and calmer over the past few seasons. But yes, nothing in the Beltline dares approach her any more."

Saizou sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm talking myself into this, aren't I?"

"I hope so. I think they'll be good for each other." Kazuki smiled gently at Saizou. "I wouldn't have encouraged it if I'd thought otherwise." His smile quirked. "And just in time, too." He nodded back down the path to where their siblings were coming, side by side.

"They're practically holding hands," Saizou groaned.

Kazuki laughed out loud. "I had no idea you were still such a traditionalist, Saizou!"

The children were close enough to spot them, by then, and Toshi was giving Saizou a look of mingled apprehension and suspicion. "Onii-sama? What are you doing here?"

He looked at her, and the way she drew a protective step closer to Yohan, and the way Yohan turned toward her without hesitation, and heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Okay. Okay, fine. If you really want him that much, you can have him."

Toshi lit up like sunrise. "Onii-sama!" She dashed the few steps up the bridge and threw herself into his arms, nearly sending both of them over the rail.

And then, just as quickly, she skipped back to Yohan, smiling up at him. "I do! I would! I mean..." she glanced down and back up, suddenly shy. "If you want to."

Yohan was looking back and forth between Saizou and Kazuki. "Saizou?" he asked.

He didn't hesitate, though, about taking Toshi's hands in his, and Saizou snorted wryly.

"Yeah. Not that it looks like the two of you really need it, but you have my blessing."

Yohan looked back at Toshi and smiled like Saizou had never seen before, sweet and happy and young, and Saizou had to swallow tightness out of his throat for a moment.

"I would be honored if you would marry me, Toufuuin Toshi," Yohan said softly, and Toshi laughed up at him.

"I would be honored to accept."

When it looked like they might just keep standing there, staring at each other, Saizou murmured dryly, "Scaring up the family members for this ceremony is going to be a project."

Toshi looked away long enough to stick out her tongue at him, and Saizou laughed. It was good to see his sister so happy.

"Family, yes." Yohan looked up at him again. "Will you choose another to act in your place with the clan, then?"

The thought that Saizou had been trying not to look at ever since Toshi first spoke to him darted up again. He could choose another. Or he could... not. He could return to Yohan's side himself, to this smiling gentle-eyed Yohan who he was trusting with his little sister.

To Yohan, who had trapped him in service and torment for eight long years.

To Yohan, who had all the deadly grace of the Fuuchouin line and had held him with more than force alone.

Saizou's hands clenched tight, and he had to swallow before he could speak. "I... don't know. Let me consider."

Yohan nodded slowly. "Of course."

Kazuki came to Saizou and linked an arm through his. "I'll take Saizou home, then, and you two can decide how you want to announce this to Takeo."

Yohan's eyes on Saizou were still grave, but a tiny smile curled the corner of his mouth, and Toshi had a definite light of mischief in her eyes. "We'll think on that, yes," she murmured.

As Kazuki led him back toward the gates, Saizou was aware that the decision he had made today had been the easy one.

Kazuki and Toshiki and Juubei had held and comforted Saizou while he wrestled with his past, with the braid of fear and sympathy and pain that still ran taut between he and Yohan. He was grateful for them, desperately grateful for the peace and shelter that belonging to Kazuki gave him. But he knew that he couldn't live out his whole life never going beyond that shelter.

In the end, Saizou had come to Sakura for a second opinion.

Sakura sat him down in her sunlit kitchen and made tea for them both, and listened as he told her things she already knew, things she had sifted out of his heart while he held her under the curse seal, and things he was only starting to become aware of. Chief among them, of course, the knowledge that he truly did want to return to Yohan's side.

Saizou drove his fingers into his hair. "Sakura, you're the smart one around here. Tell me why I'm even considering going back?"

He didn't honestly expect her to give him an answer, but she looked at him soberly for a long moment, arms crossed over her stomach, and finally sighed.

"He betrayed you. He held leadership over you with one hand and with the other denied everything that it means to lead. But you can't forget his brilliance, or the security of being led by such a powerful spirit. It draws you back, even when you fear to be betrayed and cast aside again."

He lifted his head and stared at her shocked to his bones, shaken by the blunt truth of her words. "How... how do you know?"

She came to him and rested her hands on his shoulders. Her smile was faint and shadowed. "I recognized that expression."

The world tilted and slid sideways and suddenly he heard another name behind the "he" she'd spoken. "Sakura..." He stared at her, reaching out to gather her closer, needing to comfort the hurt hiding behind her small smile. He knew that smile and that hurt.

She leaned against him and sighed, arms folded around his shoulders. "He did come back to us. He came back and he cared for us, little by little, more and more, and now we're safe in his hands, and I've forgiven him, truly I have, I know the pain he carried that drove him away, but..." She took a deep, unsteady breath and let it out. "I recognized how you looked, just now."

Saizou rested his cheek against her stomach. "You have a great heart. I don't know if mine is that strong."

"It is," she said softly against his hair. "You just want it to make logical sense to you, too."

After a moment Saizou chuckled, ruefully. "I did say you were the smart one."

Sakura took his face in her hands to make him look up. "I believe in you," she said, steadily. "I believe that you will never betray Kazuki, by this. And I believe that you will not betray yourself, either."

Saizou closed his eyes, letting her words fill him. Sakura believed in him. He held on to that like a lifeline in a storm. "Thank you," he whispered.

She leaned down and kissed him softly. "Go see him. Find what it is you need to know."

"Far be it from me to disobey the word of our House's councilor," Saizou murmured, wry.

"Really?" She looked down at him with a tiny smile. "Well, then. Go see him tomorrow." She took his hands and pulled him up and off toward her bedroom.

Saizou stood in the door of what he thought might be Yohan's favorite room, the one that overlooked the waterfall. Both Kazuki and Toshi mentioned this room frequently. Yohan was sitting by the open screens, back to the door. Saizou wasn't in the least surprised, though, when he murmured, "Come in, Saizou."

He came silently and sat across the way from Yohan, looking out over the water too, his hands clenched on his thighs.

"I have already said I will not force your service again," Yohan said after a while. "If you object..."

"It isn't that," Saizou interrupted, tightly. "If it were, I'd just choose another to speak for me and be done with it."

Finally Yohan looked at him, quiet and clear-eyed. "What is it, then?"

Saizou dropped his head, eyes closed. "It's that I do want to return," he said, low.

"I know your heart belongs to Aniue," Yohan said tentatively, as if he were feeling his way into this tangle too. Saizou huffed half a laugh.

"That's less of a problem than I thought it might be, now that more of the clan has met Kazuki and seen how completely he's released the clan to you. No one will think there might be a conflict of clan loyalty."

"So for appearances. What of reality?" Yohan asked.

That was the perception, cutting straight to the core, that drew Saizou so. "If Kazuki should ever choose to command something of me that conflicted with your orders, it's him I would obey," he said quietly. "But Kazuki loves you. He trusts the clan to you. I believe he would not do such a thing."

After a long moment Yohan said, "You entrust yourself greatly to our hands."

A shudder raked through Saizou, and he wrapped his arms around himself. "I... want to."

The past hung in the silence between them, the pain both of them had carried, had shared in a twisted way, and the fact that Yohan had been responsible for Saizou's.

"Perhaps," Yohan said at last, "we should take wisdom from your sister."

Saizou looked at him blankly, unable to make any sense of the words.

"You have not fought me since that first time, when I defeated you." Yohan held Saizou's eyes as he started. "Perhaps it is time you did."

Saizou swallowed, years of fear clamoring that it was pointless, hopeless, that to fight Yohan would only mean destruction—that or the shame of knowing there was nothing, nothing at all, he could do against Yohan.

But there was no glint of amusement or irony in Yohan's eyes now, nothing of those years, only quiet waiting. And perhaps that was Yohan's point. Saizou took a shaking breath.

"You both have that ruthlessness, you and Kazuki," he said, husky. "All right."

"Come, then." Yohan rose and led the way back out through the house to the same training ground where Toshi had demanded a match. Now the remark about his sister's wisdom made sense. Yohan stood in the center of the space, bell gleaming between his fingers, and simply waited.

Saizou took a breath, and then another, and sent his strings flashing out in the Winter Gale.

It was a strange fight. He felt as though he were fighting himself as much as he was Yohan, fighting the drag and twitch of fear in his muscles, fighting ghosts of the past that told him to cower behind the Jade Shield and not dare strike out. He fought past that, as well as Yohan's attacks, and breathed freer with every attack, twisting aside from the Rain Shower to return it with the Blossoming Plum, blood singing every time an attack drove Yohan to step aside.

He knew Yohan was not fighting with his full power, that this was a training match and not a true battle. But the knowledge didn't hurt; it was what they'd set out to do after all, to take each other's measure on this ground, and Yohan's grace called to him the way Kazuki's had the first time they fought. He gave himself up to that grace again and let the rhythm of the match take him, moving through the forms like flying, hovering, watching for the opportunity to dive.

At last, Yohan spun his strings out into a form Saizou didn't recognize, and he tensed, wondering if Yohan would use one of the hidden techniques on him now. In a flicker of decision he chose to meet Yohan's lunge head on, seeking to entangle his strings in the Night Forest Web. Yohan's strings didn't close on him, though. Instead they drew taut just out of his range and sang.

Saizou thought he cried out; he couldn't tell. Sound and more than sound poured through him, halted him as surely as a binding but without holding him, cut through him like a knife but without touching him. He felt like it should be tearing his body apart, crushing him, but the force of it flowed through him without pause or pain.

When it released him his legs wouldn't hold him up and he stumbled down to the ground, stunned. Yohan walked back to him and Saizou took a breath and looked up. "What...?" he managed, voice rough.

"What are the four principles of our art?" Yohan asked in return.

Saizou blinked at him. "To cut, to reflect, to strike, and to bind," he answered, slowly. What was this, catechism?

"And so the signature forms of the four Houses, each one particularly and powerfully expressing one of the four principles," Yohan agreed. "But there is a fifth. It is the core and root of all the others. Resonance."

Saizou's eyes widened; that was what the unknown form had done, then. Passed the resonance of the strings into his body, far more powerfully than any technique he'd ever heard of.

"That," Yohan said softly, "was the Dance of the Yellow Dragon. I believe that it used to be the Fuuchouin succession technique, before Kachoufuugetsu—before the hidden arts were laid on the Kokuchouin—the proof that the heir had mastered the deepest root, as well as the highest reaches, of the art, and comprehended their unity and harmony." More softly still he finished, "Toufuuin Saizou, do you accept it?"

Harmony. To conquer without injury. Saizou buried his face in his hands and laughed, breathless and helpless. Yohan was Kazuki's brother after all. "Yes," he whispered at last, and looked up again, smiling, at his clan lord. "Yes."

Yohan smiled, small but pleased and bright. "I'm glad."

Saizou bent his head and let his new knowledge settle into his heart. Yohan had found a place for life instead of the death that he'd worn like an over-robe for all those years. He would care for Fuuchouin and bring it harmony, and Saizou was welcomed, not bound, at his side. It fit; it made sense; Kazuki was the Master of his House and heart, and Yohan was the Master of his clan. His honor would be safe in their hands. He let out a trembling breath, feeling himself truly relax.

Yohan touched his shoulder. "Come back inside." Now there was a hint of amusement in his eyes, but it was lighter than it had been before. "Aniue won't like it if I send you back to him in this condition."

Saizou snorted and levered himself upright. He could foresee his life getting complicated, between those two. To say nothing of what would happen when his sister mixed in.

Saizou's first meeting with the rest of Yohan's councilors wasn't particularly comfortable. He hadn't expected it to be. He remembered Seifuuin Koshijirou, after all, who seemed to feel it was his spiritual duty to never make anyone comfortable if he could help it.

"Saizou," Koshijirou greeted him, on the engawa outside the room they would meet in. "I see you've finally regrown your courage."

Saizou gave him a glittering grin. "Koshijirou. Well, you know how it is. It's astonishing what it can do to people when they actually resist instead of licking the feet of whoever presents himself."

Koshijirou laughed, apparently perfectly pleased. "It's good to have you back."

Some people, in Saizou's opinion, had really bad hobbies.

He heard the patter of running feet behind him and habit braced him by the time Maiya's weight landed on his shoulders. "Saizou!" Having failed to knock him over she swung down beside him and he blinked at her.

"Maiya-chan. You're dressed." Koshijirou snorted, and Saizou had to admit Maiya wasn't entirely dressed by a long way, but she had added a pair of prettily printed hakama to her usual, desperately scanty, outfit; by contrast she nearly looked demure.

Maiya beamed at him. "Well, now Yohan lets the weather change here, it gets cold sometimes. Besides, Toshi blushes if I'm not."

Toshi, coming behind her at a much more sedate pace, blushed demonstratively. "It's not that I want to interfere, Maiya-san, it's just..."

Maiya waved it off. "Oh, don't worry. If I need to fight, it's easy enough to get these off." She patted her thigh and Saizou heard the chime of her leg bells, apparently still in place under the fabric.

"Wasting time chattering about fashion can wait," grumbled an old man, who Saizou decided must be Seiji, as he stumped past them into the room. Maiya giggled in her most mendaciously brainless fashion and jiggled her breasts at him, and Saizou watched with interest as his neck turned red. Maiya must not like him very much; Saizou didn't discount that.

After all, the man must be completely oblivious not to have realized that they'd spend most of this meeting talking about fashion. Toshi would make sure of that.

He nodded to Maiya, gestured Toshi in ahead of him, and went to take his place at Yohan's right.

The actual marriage contract was settled quickly, despite Seiji's occasional grumpy noises, presumably at Toshi's participation; the families were already allies and more, after all. The marriage would only reconfirm Toufuuin's place within the Fuuchouin clan.

"Framing this as some kind of new alliance will only lead to further division," Saizou said firmly to Kokuchouin Gorou's suggestion, ignoring the sidelong glances of the Fuuchouin elders. "Toufuuin serves our clan lord willingly, and I won't suggest it might be otherwise."

Finally no one could think of any more clauses he needed to reject. Saizou sat back and opened a hand discreetly to his sister.

Toshi's eyes sparkled.

"Well, then, let us discuss the ceremonies themselves," she said brightly.

On mature consideration, Saizou decided thoughtfully, he wasn't entirely surprised that Maiya and Toshi were getting along. They had very similar senses of humor, under certain circumstances, and the clan elders had obviously been getting on Toshi's nerves for a while now. He was reasonably sure she didn't actually want a modern wedding with church trappings, and had only suggested it to see the colors Seiji and Akihito would turn, but she had no compunction about using the specter of it as a bargaining chip to wring out every single outfit, ornament and moment of display tradition afforded. Saizou just smiled blandly and agreed to every single demand. By the time they were done, the celebration had expanded into a week long festival, and Takeo was looking appalled at the notion that it would have to be hosted here in the Beltline.

"Your sister is a dangerous woman to cross," he murmured ruefully to Saizou as they all stood to go.

"She certainly is," he agreed with a brilliant smile.

"I wish I had known sooner that she favored Yohan-sama for herself." Takeo cast a thoughtful look over his shoulder to where Yohan and Toshi were saying temporary goodbye at great length.

Saizou snorted. "You and me both. But I think it's for the best. She loves his idealism and Yohan needs a bright heart in his life, and Kazuki doesn't actually live here."

Takeo stopped and looked at him for a long moment. "You know Yohan-sama well," he finally said.

"Yes," Saizou agreed, quiet. "I do."

Takeo smiled. "I had wondered whether your return to the clan council was wise." He bowed deeply. "Forgive me for doubting you, Master of Toufuuin."

Saizou's mouth quirked. "You didn't doubt me any more than I did. For a while there was cause. But we're both healing from it, Yohan and I. Toufuuin will be well; and so will Fuuchouin." His smile widened. "All the more after the entire clan sees Yohan, and Yohan and Kazuki together, at this circus of a wedding."

Takeo paused, brows lifting, and looked back at Toshi again, this time with open respect. "I... see." He smiled, small and rueful. "I will do my best to follow my lady's program, then."

"Usually wisest," Saizou agreed, and clapped him on the shoulder companionably.

After all, trimming Toshi down to size was his job, and he didn't intend to let it out to anyone else.

Takeo nodded to him and moved off after his fellows, and Yohan and Toshi finally emerged from the room. Saizou traded identical grins with his sister. "Go tell Maiya about your victory, then," he told her. "I'll catch up with you at the gates."

Toshi laughed and ran the other way down the engawa.

"Saizou," Yohan said quietly, looking after her. "Thank you."

Saizou shrugged. "It was her choice. I just agreed to it."

"You did—to all of it." Yohan turned that even gaze on him. "That's why I'm thanking you."

Saizou hesitated for a moment, but at last he took a slow breath and knelt down in full salute at Yohan's feet. The body memory of heart-pain from the many times he'd done this before pulled at him, but he pushed it away with the crisp cool of the fall afternoon here and now and the memory of the new Dance Yohan had shown him. "It is my duty and my honor," he said firmly.

"Saizou." There was startlement and wonder in Yohan's voice, and Saizou smiled to himself. Neither would have shown, or even existed, two years ago.

He stood and gave Yohan a brighter grin. "Of course, you realize, as your big-brother-in-law, I'm going to tease you now. That's my duty too."

Yohan looked up at him, startlement softening into a smile. "Is it? Perhaps I'll look forward to it, then."

The trust of those words kept Saizou company all the way home.

Cat's Cradle - Epilogue

Kazuki teaches Toshi the Phoenix, and she finds a new beginning for the whole clan in it. Drama, Utter Fluff, I-4

Kazuki walked through the house grounds as evening fell, nodding to the little knots of people he met. They bowed and murmured his name respectfully, but without the edges of fear or hope or anger so many had shown at the beginning of the week.

Almost all of the four Houses that remained were here for the celebrations surrounding Yohan and Toshi's wedding; Kazuki was fairly sure Yohan had extended the compound even further than usual for the occasion. There had been feasts and receptions and, this being the Fuuchouin clan after all, competitions every day. Maiya had distinguished herself, and not only because she had nearly caused her opponents apoplexy when she casually stripped down to her fighting array. Even without the hidden techniques, her skill at the binding forms that Yohan said were the hallmark of the Northern House was outstanding. There were even murmurs starting about reconstituting the Thirteen Strings—Maiya among them. Saizou had trounced Seifuuin Koshijirou in their own match, which seemed to satisfy both of them. Toshi had fought three of her own House to a standstill, and Kazuki had had to smile at the approving sounds the onlookers to that match had made. Fortunately, Toshi hadn't seemed to catch any of the details, most of which concerned what strong children she would bear.

And Kazuki... well, Kazuki had had a match with Yohan.

They were accustomed to each other after a year and more of training together, of course; that hadn't been the point of this fight. No, this had been a demonstration for the clan. They had worked up through the simpler techniques all the way to Kachoufuugetsu, and when Yohan had reversed the Empty Moon onto him, Kazuki had yielded. The watchers had been silent, after, maybe shocked, maybe frightened, until Kazuki had laughed and caught Yohan up in a hug. The shock and fear hadn't survived the sight of the clan lord flushed and flustered and having his hair ruffled. Yohan had given Kazuki a distinctly exasperated look, after, but softness had lurked behind it.

Now it was the last evening of the celebrations, and Kazuki had one more duty to fulfill before it was over. He was looking for Toshi.

He found her in one of the inner courtyards, brushing the sleeves of yet another outfit straight, and had to chuckle. "If I can delay your appearance for just a little while," he called to her.

"Kazuki-sama!" She paused and came to look up at him with a glint of mischief much like her brother's. "I suppose I should say Onii-sama, now."

"I'd be quite pleased if you did. It's a good moment for it, I believe; before you go out, I need to show you something to keep for the family." She cocked her head at him, questioning, and he waved for her to walk with him.

"There is a technique that appears in none of the regular Fuuchouin scrolls," he said quietly as they paced through the halls and out into the gardens. "It has been a hidden technique of its own, passed down among those who marry into the Fuuchouin main house. It's called the Phoenix." He glanced at her, curious. "Have you and Yohan found any mention of it in your researches?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

Kazuki nodded, not entirely surprised. "My mother, in her wisdom, taught it to me and so preserved it for the moment it would be most needed. I give you her words to me: Flowers are beautiful, but they can only abide in one place. The wind in nimble, but it has no will. The moon gleams from on high, but it has no warmth. However, birds not only shine beautifully, but have freedom and agility... They fly freely of their own will, and because of their warm wings, they can soar as high as they wish." Kazuki stopped beside one of the pools and turned to Toshi. "It is not an art of strength, but of compassion and resolve. And now the heart of Fuuchouin comes to you."

She nodded solemnly, eyes fixed on him as he took a bell between his fingers. He showed her the steps of it, so deceptively simple, and guided her from one to the next until she cast the Phoenix up into the sky and he could feel that it was right.

Toshi stood in the shadows of the trees, looking at the feather between her fingers. "This form... to complete it could take my life," she said softly.

"If necessary, yes," Kazuki agreed, voice steady.

"But what if..." She chewed her lip. Finally her chin lifted. "Yes. Kazuki-sama, please come with me." She spun around and set off through the grounds toward the main court where Yohan and the heads of the Houses were waiting. There she waved off the compliments and smiles that met her and plunged into a whispered conversation with Yohan, hands shaping the air. Yohan listened and frowned and nodded, and finally rose and came with Toshi to Kazuki.

"Aniue," he said. "Toshi wishes to give a gift to our clan. Do you approve?"

Kazuki could only imagine one thing she might want to do, and stared at her. "Toshi...!" He didn't dare even look at Saizou, who was already eying his sister suspiciously.

"It can be done," she insisted, eyes alight. "I know it can be done."

Kazuki pressed his lips tight. "Give me your word that if it doesn't go as you think it will, you'll break off."

Toshi nodded. "I promise. I'm not courting death at my wedding, honestly!"

Kazuki sighed; the glitter in her eyes still made him nervous, but she had given her word. "Very well. I approve."

Yohan and Toshi moved out into the open center of the court together. Murmurs ran around the perimeter as people noticed the bell and feather in their fingers. Saizou started making his way around the edge to Kazuki, frowning faintly. Toshi lifted her head and raised her voice to be heard by all.

"There are many who could not be present to celebrate with us; but they are not gone." She held out her hand to Yohan, in the sudden silence, and he wove his strings out around her in the taut framework of the Yellow Dragon. Kazuki's eyes widened with sudden understanding, and he leaned forward, watching Toshi gather her strings within that enfolding, magnifying resonance and cast them upwards. The song of them, actually audible, spilled over the watchers and beyond, though the entire compound.

And the Phoenix descended.

And the Dragon rose to meet it.

Kazuki pressed a hand to his mouth, eyes blind with sudden tears. He could feel his mother's presence, and his father's, and those who had watched over him growing up. Saizou's arms closed around him and he turned to bury his head against Saizou's shoulder, feeling the hitch of quick, choked breaths in Saizou's chest. His family was here, and he had their blessing.

He blinked his eyes clear and looked up to see the glimmering presence of the Dragon and Phoenix whirling together over the clan. Yohan and Toshi were standing below, in each other's arms. As the forms they'd called together faded, Kazuki heard soft sobs and the swell of softer words, laughter, remembrance, not only in the court but from the rooms and gardens beyond it. As Yohan and Toshi moved back to the platform where the heads of the Houses and their councilors sat, Kazuki watched people part before them and bow deeply, ungrudgingly to them both. "It will all be well," he said softly.

"Yes," Saizou agreed, as Juubei and Sakura and Toshiki slipped in through the crowd to find them. "It really will."

Kazuki met his brother's eyes across the court, as his little House gathered around him, and smiled, open and free.

It would all be well.

End

A/N: The translation of Kazuki's mother's description of the Phoenix is by Jane, direct from the manga.

Life Lessons

Knowing that you're sending twelve-year-olds into the field to fight, what do you need to teach them before they go? And what do you do when it never seems to work? Sometimes Iruka has trouble with that second one. Drama, Angst, Fluff, I-5

Warning: Discusses aftermath of trauma.

Umino Iruka loved to teach. He really did. He'd taught at the Academy for years, and with every new class he felt again the wonder of shaping Konoha's future through his students.

There were also weeks when he needed to remind himself of this strenuously to keep his hands from closing around their skinny, little necks.

"All right, everyone, settle down, Kiba tell Akamaru to let go of Ino's bag. Today we're talking about trauma-care within your team."

"Aw, we've done first aid already," Shikamaru grumbled, not quite under his breath.

"If you graduate and take on field jobs," Iruka continued, as if he hadn't heard, "there will come a time when you or one of your teammates will not be in their usual state of mind. You may have been in a fight and almost died. Your teammate may have been captured and tortured. It isn't unusual to need people you know and trust around you, after something like that."

"So, what, we're supposed to pack along a teddy bear?" Kiba muttered and Naruto snickered. Iruka gave them his second-best glare and continued when they shut up.

"Your textbooks list several chakra techniques that may, if you develop the control for them, be used to soothe your teammate until competent medical help is available. We will be practicing those today. There are also three pressure point techniques that are safe for novices. We will practice those tomorrow." Fortunately, the worst they could do to each other with those was fail; he made a mental note to ask Hinata not to demonstrate any more advanced techniques she might know from her clan's teaching to her classmates.

"Wait a minute, you mean we have to, like, let someone touch us?" Ino protested with a look of distaste at her deskmate, Chouji. A wave of sniggering and blushing swept the class and Iruka braced himself. This was exactly why he hated this unit.

"That brings us to the third option discussed in this chapter," he said, commanding himself sternly not to blush; teachers didn't blush damn it. "There will not be a practical exercise for this option, but your homework for tonight is to write three pages on the possible signs that the third option is called for or appropriate. Some people respond to some kinds of trauma or threat with a need for sexual contact. We've already discussed, earlier this year, some differences between civilian attitudes toward sex and shinobi attitudes. Among shinobi it is both acceptable and appropriate to offer that contact to your teammates if you are able and willing to do so. This chapter covers some ways to determine whether one of your teammates needs that kind of contact." The dead silence that had struck the room dissolved into squeals and whispers and exclamations. Sasuke, recipient of several rather predatory looks, drew even further in on himself than usual, and Naruto was making gagging faces with Shikamaru. Iruka soldiered grimly on.

"Recognizing the signs is extremely important, because it is equally common for a person to desire non-sexual contact with teammates after experiencing stress or trauma. No one who cannot demonstrate their knowledge of the signs listed in your textbooks will be passed for a field assignment, so pay attention to your reading and take good notes. Now." He swept them with his very best glare to silence the whispering and giggling. "Everyone open your books to page seventy-two and start copying out the first seal."

He sat down at his desk while the class settled into their usual restless order, books open, brushes moving.

"Naruto, stop trying to paint Shino's jacket and work on the seal."

"Aww..."

Sometimes moving the wrong places, but it looked like the work to fooling around ratio was about seven to three today, which was about as good as it ever got.

Ino passed a note over to Sakura and they both looked back at Sasuke and giggled, pink-cheeked.

Okay, maybe six to four. He sighed to himself. He really hated this unit. And talking about the homework tomorrow was going to be worse.

Iruka didn't lift his head from his hands when the door to the teacher's room opened and closed. Uncharacteristic inattention to surroundings, his memory recited, or unresponsiveness, especially if it appears deliberate.

"Iruka? Hey, you okay? What did the little monsters do to you today?" Shizuka's voice came closer and was punctuated by a papery thump.

"Yeah," he said, low, "it's just that time of year again. That unit, you know."

"Oh shit, I totally lost track of time! That's this month?" Her steps went to the window and the vertical blinds rattled across them.

Ensure as much privacy as possible without obstructing exit routes. "Yeah."

Her steps came back and the chair beside him scraped out. "Want to talk about it? Or just go get a drink?"

Offer verbal contact first, along with an alternative form of communication or connection if your teammate is unwilling or unable to speak.

Iruka took in a shaky breath and let it out. "They don't know. They think it's funny. Just like when we do the first aid unit, and the ones who have never broken anything laugh over the lesson on improvising splints. And next week we have to cover torture and rape recovery. Why do we try to teach them this so early?" Why did he have to go through this, trying and failing to reach them, year after year?

Shizuka sighed. "Sometimes I wonder too." She touched his wrist lightly. "You want a hand with this?"

Do not attempt to answer questions. He could nearly see the letters on the page. Initial physical contact should be at a neutral location. (Caution: this may be influenced by your teammate's specific experience.) He put his head down on his arms and laughed, rough and helpless. "You'd pass the test with flying colors," he told her, husky. So many wouldn't, not for real, not until it was real and that would be too late.

"Bad year, huh? Should I stay?" she asked him gently, "Or should I get that slacker Hatake in here for you?"

Your teammate may be unable to ask for contact. Offer several possible courses of action. Iruka bit his lip. After a moment he managed, quietly, "Door two?"

"You got it." She squeezed his shoulders as she stood. "Just wait a little." And she was gone. Shizuka was a good shinobi, and a good teacher, Iruka reflected. She cared. That was a hard quality to find sometimes, though he did his best to teach it to his students. It was always during this unit that he despaired of getting through to them. He knew that, he knew it was coming, and his failure hit him like this every year anyway.

"Yo." A warm hand fell on the back of his neck and Iruka jumped, startled out of his drifting thoughts. "You look like a wreck. Who is it this year?"

Iruka's muscles locked. Everyone knew; it would be someone. He'd fail some one of his students.

Over his head, Kakashi sighed quietly. "Come here." He put a hand under Iruka's arm and levered him up out of his chair, leading him over to the battered couch tucked in the corner for emergency naps. He thumped down onto it and pulled Iruka tight against his side.

And hooked a finger into his facemask, tugging it down.

"Kakashi-san," Iruka said, rough, looking up at him, a little of the fear in him unwinding, letting him straighten. His old commander had always trusted him, and obviously still did.

"Who is it this year?" Kakashi demanded quietly, dark gaze level.

Iruka swallowed. "Hinata," he whispered finally. "Hyuuga Hinata. If she's ever taken I don't know if there will be enough of her left to make it back. And..." he bit his lip.

Kakashi kneaded the back of his neck with a strong, calloused hand. "And?" he pressed.

"...Sasuke." Iruka closed his eyes. "I can't even say that he isn't broken already. He should be! And all the boys can think is how they want to take him down a notch and all the girls can think is how cute he looks, and..." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Fuck."

Kakashi smiled at that, startlingly clear without his mask. "Very eloquent." He caught Iruka's chin, making Iruka meet his eye. "You can't do this for them. And that isn't your fault, or your failure."

There was no room for argument in his voice and Iruka leaned on that, trying to believe it. "I know," he said, low, "I just—" he broke off because Kakashi had pressed two fingers to his lips.

"Enough."

That was an order, and Iruka subsided. Kakashi had been his first commander after Iruka's jounin-sensei had passed him, and Iruka knew, ruefully, he'd never quite gotten over that. Kakashi knew it, too, and had no qualms about using it. "I think you need some distraction," Kakashi declared. "So, which will it be: do I get you drunk or do I take you to bed?"

Offer several possible courses of action Iruka's teacher-memory reminded him, and he had to press his head against Kakashi's shoulder while he laughed. This wasn't exactly the textbook approach, but it worked. That was what the field always had to teach his students, and it would be no different for this. "How about both," he decided.

"Taking shameless advantage," Kakashi tsked mournfully. It wasn't as effective when you could see the quirk to his lips. "Your place, then; I'm out of booze."

"Speaking of taking shameless advantage," Iruka said dryly, feeling a little more himself.

Kakashi smiled and tugged his facemask back up as he stood. "Have to keep my reputation up. Come on."

Iruka followed him out the window and over the roofs, holding on to the calm he'd regained. He'd need it for next week. But that, as Kakashi would no doubt tell him, and scold him for forgetting, was what a person's team was for. They would learn, his students. He would do what he could and life would do the rest.

And they'd all live with that, however they could.

End

A Time and a Place

After Iruka and Kakashi argue over Team Seven's nomination to the Chuunin Exams, Kakashi comes to discuss it again in a little more privacy. Drama, Fluff, I-3

Kakashi watched Iruka making tea with tight, jerky motions, nearly stomping back and forth through his small kitchen. It didn't look at all serene to him. And Iruka hadn't even noticed that he had a visitor sitting in his window.

"You need to choose your time and ground better, Iruka. I thought you knew that," he said, finally.

Iruka spun, tea splashing over his wrist, shuriken suddenly in the other hand. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Kakashi refrained from rolling his eyes. "I'm here to answer your question, because I'm a nice guy."

"Nice?" Kakashi supposed he'd earned the way Iruka growled that, considering how he'd slapped Iruka down in the meeting not an hour ago. But that was no excuse for not thinking, and he straightened out of his slouch, meeting Iruka's glare.

"Iruka," he said quietly. And that was all, but the outrage slowly drained out of Iruka's expression and he sat down heavily at his kitchen table.

"My apologies, Kakashi-san," he said to his tea cup, "for disappointing your expectations."

Not, Kakashi noted wryly, for yelling at him in public, but that wasn't the part he'd really minded. "So." He leaned back against the windowsill again. "Now that you're not being insubordinate and losing control in public, let's try that again. Do you really think my team isn't ready for the exams?"

"How can they be?" Iruka demanded, firing right up again, waving the hand not clenching his tea. "It's barely been a year! They've only had a handful of missions! How can they possibly be ready for promotion?!"

"They're not." Kakashi's mouth quirked under his facemask as Iruka stared at him. "They're not ready for promotion. But they are ready for the exams."

Iruka stared at him. "You... you, you mean you're... but...!" Kakashi leaned forward, hands on his knees.

"Iruka. Listen to me. Those three are outstanding, but they also have very serious weaknesses. The only, and I mean only, time I've seen them draw together to cover each other the way a team needs to do in the field is when they're in danger of their lives. That's also when all of them advance by leaps and bounds you have to see to believe. So. You're a teacher. You tell me: what should I do to help them progress and become what they can be?"

Iruka looked back at him, torn. "But..." Finally, he whispered, looking down, "But Naruto..."

Kakashi could see the fine tremors running down Iruka's arms from how tight he was holding his shoulders, and sighed. He'd been pretty sure that was the real problem, yes. As gently as he could he said, "You knew what you were training them for, Iruka. You knew what they would be, once they graduated. Including Naruto."

Iruka thumped his tea down, sloshing still more over the edge, and buried his face in his hands. "I'm never having children," he said, low and violent. "Never."

Kakashi didn't point out that it was pretty much too late. He slid off the window and came to stand beside Iruka. "Hey." When Iruka didn't look up he nudged Iruka's hands aside, wrapped his hand around Iruka's chin, and lifted it. "Naruto is finding himself. He's starting to move forward based on confidence instead of blind, dumb determination. And the three of them can work together; they'll look out for each other in the exam." Quieter but firmly, the tone he knew made Iruka respond, "You need to let him walk on his own, now."

Iruka closed his eyes, stilling under Kakashi's hand as some of the tension ran out of him. "Yes, Kakashi-san," he said, husky.

Some people, Kakashi supposed, might feel guilty about using Iruka's lingering bond to his ex-commander like this. But no shinobi ever would. It was what worked, and it was what his comrade needed. That was all that mattered. "Good." He slid his hand down to Iruka's shoulder and gave him a brisk shake. "And that means you're not going to lose control in the middle of a meeting in front of the Hokage again, are you?"

Iruka flushed red and looked down, finally, it seemed, realizing exactly what he'd done. "No, Kakashi-san."

"Better." Kakashi slid one hand up to knead the nape of Iruka's neck, hard, until he gasped and tipped his head back and finally relaxed. "Don't beat yourself up over it," Kakashi murmured. "Family tend to do things like that when the kids are involved. Just try not to do it again."

"Yes, Kakashi-san." Iruka smiled up at him, just a little wry. "Thank you."

"Don't worry." Kakashi let him go with a last squeeze of his shoulder and stepped back. The imp of mischief nipped him and he grinned and let his tone turn just the slightest bit insinuating. "After all, you know how I take care of my teams." He hopped out the window while Iruka was still sputtering and turning red, chuckling.

That should give Iruka something to distract him from his concern for his little brother. Kakashi did, after all, take good care of his teams.

End

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Four

In which the exam tournament gives everyone a chance to grow a little and tie up some loose ends. Action, Fluff, I-3

Sakura sat in the candidates' balcony of the large, enclosed, Sand arena and waited for the next individual match to be announced, and tried to calm herself down by mentally reviewing the profiles of her possible opponents. Gai-san's team had taken this season's exam also, and included Hyuuga Neji, who seemed to have waited out the whole year to take the exam again with his teammates. She'd be in trouble against Neji, since she didn't dare close with him and his field of vision made it almost impossible to hit him from a distance with her speed. The rest of that team, she thought she could handle. Two of the Sand teams had made it to the final part too, and one from Rain. Out of those teams, there were two people she thought she'd really have trouble with: the brown-haired woman from the team they'd met at the middle of the second round, and a thin red-haired boy from Hidden Rain. He had some kind of bloodline talent she'd caught a glimpse of on their way out of the fortress; she'd seen him dissolve and a sword pass through him, and then the red mist where he'd been reformed and he'd casually knocked the chuunin guard unconscious. She could think of ways to deal with that, but most of them depended on resources the arena didn't have handy.

As for the woman... Sakura had a feeling she was what Sakura might be in another handful of years. But she wasn't there yet.

Lee had already won against one of the other Rain genin, punching right through the other boy's water barriers. Two Sand-nin from different teams had fought each other nearly to a standstill, blades against a taijutsu style Sakura had never seen before, heavy on ferocious kicks. Tenten had had a hard time, at first, against her opponent's illusions, but had eventually overwhelmed him with a downright rain of lethal weaponry which had done Sakura's heart good to watch. Her teammates, she thought wryly, had given her a taste for overkill. The dark-haired Sand woman had just finished wiping the arena with the third of the Rain team, whose wind-driven shuriken had been no match for her absolute precision and control with body replacement and wire-guided weapons. She'd won using only a technique of the very lowest level and she'd made it look easy. Sakura really hoped they were in different matches for the next round.

And, if only, please, she didn't have to face her own team...

"Next match! Haruno Sakura against Raisu Kurosuke!"

The red-haired Rain genin bounced to his feet and trotted toward the stairs down to the arena.

Sakura stood very still for a moment, ruefully reflecting on the old advice to be careful what you wished for. But only a moment before her mind started ticking down the things she'd already thought about this opponent and presented a conclusion. Can't cut, need to enclose; not wind, not earth, need water or fire; can't create enough water to enclose or enough fire to ensure an effect; therefore... She turned briskly to Naruto. "Can I borrow your jacket? I promise I'll have it cleaned really well after."

Naruto looked mournfully at his bright orange sleeve before sighing and tugging the jacket off. "Sure, Sakura-chan."

She stuffed her arms into the sleeves as she hurried down the stairs.

Her opponent squinted at her as she came out onto the sand. "Doesn't that clash a little?"

Sakura's face turned hot; all right, so orange didn't exactly go with red or pink. She could just imagine what Ino would say. "This is a match, not a fashion show," she snapped.

The examiner's mouth was twitching as he tried to keep a straight face. "Begin!"

Sakura threw a kunai straight for Raisu's center of mass and snapped the jacket off her shoulders. As he smirked and dissolved into that cloud of red mist she remembered she sprinted in close and swiped her extremely improvised net through the mist.

Or she would have except that the mist dodged, flying apart wildly. It took nearly thirty seconds for Raisu to come back together, well out of arm's reach. Or jacket's reach. "You're good," he said, eyes narrowed. "Okay, we do this the hard way, then." He stalked toward her, solid all the way.

Sakura smiled tightly and tied the jacket around her waist to keep it handy.

He wasn't any faster than her, she decided after a few exchanges, but he didn't seem to notice shallow cuts; more disturbing, she couldn't see that they were bleeding, which hers certainly were. It was time to try something more energetic, then. She used chakra to give her feet more grip on the shifting sand and slapped an explosive seal onto his arm, spinning away with only a scratch. Raisu cursed and dissolved again, mist flying apart with the explosion. It took him almost a minute to come back this time, and he was panting.

Sakura's eyes narrowed in satisfaction and she flicked out a handful of tags, slapping a few onto her shuriken.

Raisu was trying to keep the distance open, now, and he had better aim than she did, but he didn't seem to have the chakra control to raise his traction. Her arms were getting badly cut up but twice more she got an explosive tag close enough to make him dissolve, and each time he took longer to return. She was getting noticeably light-headed from blood loss, but she calculated that he would run out of strength first.

After the third note, he returned only to collapse to the sand on all fours and gasp, "Surrender..."

"Winner is Haruno Sakura!" the examiner announced, appearing beside them. "Do you require medical attention?" he asked Raisu more conversationally.

Raisu shook his head. "Just... rest," he said raggedly.

The examiner hauled him up by an arm over his shoulder and off toward the stairs. It took Sakura a moment to follow them.

She'd won.

She collapsed beside her teammates and tugged off the jacket to hand back to Naruto. "Thanks," she sighed. "That was just the thing." She let her head fall against the bench back.

She could hear the Rain jounin scolding Raisu. "I told you you needed to work more on techniques that don't rely on your bloodline. Ninjutsu practice first thing, when we get home."

"Good job, Sakura-chan!" Naruto enthused, bouncing a little beside her. He fished a water bottle out of his pack and pressed it into her hand.

"Good thinking," Sasuke said, more quietly, tugging on her shoulder to make her sit up so he could bandage her arm.

She drank and listened to the sounds of Neji demolishing one of the Sand genin, and couldn't stop smiling.

She wasn't smiling three matches later, when the second match of the second round came up as her against Fuunotora Chie. Who turned out to be the brown-haired woman. "Shit," she muttered, hands checking her kunai and seal tags uncertainly as she stood.

"Just remember what I told you," Kakashi-sensei murmured from behind his book, lounging on the bench behind theirs.

"What, that reading porn helps a person relax?" she snapped, sharp with nervousness. Kakashi's eye crinkled up.

"That too, but I meant the part about finishing what you start."

Sakura blinked, remembering a training session almost a year ago, after that mission with the bandit troupe. Kakashi-sensei had set Naruto and Sasuke to practicing defense with each other. Her, though, he'd set a different exercise: to punch into his palm, full force.

She'd thought she'd been doing all right until he'd made her slow down, move through every part of the strike until she stopped with her fist against his hand. "Now finish it," he'd said. "You aren't done with the blow yet; finish it."

So she'd shoved a little more and suddenly realized that she'd never released her shoulder, hadn't completed the shift in her stance, hadn't, more importantly, completed the shift in her chakra. When she had, she'd felt a kind of openness she wasn't familiar with in her taijutsu workouts—but did know from ninjutsu training, when she completed a set of hand seals and released a technique. Kakashi had smiled. "Yes. Like that. Do it again."

For the first time, that day, she had broken a sparring post without chakra-armoring her fist first.

Sakura took a breath and let it out. All the way out. And then she nodded to her teacher and walked calmly down the stairs.

Fuunotora smiled at her faintly as they took their places on the sand. "It seems we've come around to our fight after all."

Sakura bowed a little, silently, as the examiner called "Begin!"

Fuunotora's hands flashed through seals and the sand at their feet twisted into a rope, whipping toward Sakura's knees. The familiar tension of a fight quickened her thoughts, her eyes, her calculations. A chakra rope, she decided as she swapped herself for a stone behind Fuunotora, but taking form from the element around them rather than only Fuunotora's chakra. Perhaps Fuunotora didn't have chakra to spend creating a lot of some element either. All right, then. She wove her hands as quickly as she could through the seals for Dragon Burst; perhaps she couldn't generate enough water to enclose Raisu, but she could make this sand a lot heavier. A layer of water fell over them and the rope singing around toward her slowed considerably; enough to dodge easily. Fuunotora dropped the technique and and they were both still for a moment, watching each other measuringly.

This time it was Sakura who attacked, feeding enough chakra to her feet to speed and steady her as she lunged in, kunai poised to slash. Fuunotora sprang over the line of her attack and tossed a seal onto the ground. The sand flashed startlingly hot under Sakura's feet and steam hissed up all around them, turning Fuunotora into a shadow as she landed again.

Sakura didn't often indulge in appreciating an opponent's skill; in fact, she'd previously considered doing so a symptom of testosterone poisoning. But now she found herself grinning as her thoughts flashed faster and her hands came together in the Ram. Fuunotora fought with her brains, and that Sakura could appreciate.

Her sense of chakra bloomed outward, brushing against a sleek, poised coolness sliding up behind her shoulder, just slow enough to leave the mist undisturbed. Sakura dove for the sand, catching back a hiss at the lingering heat against her palm as she scythed a leg toward Fuunotora's shins. Her shoe brushed fabric as Fuunotora dodged, and then she was twisting hard to evade the pattern of kunai coming toward her. Speed, her mind noted calmly, was almost equal, slightly in Fuunotora's favor.

By the time they both regained their stances, the mist was fading, sucked away by the thirsty air and sand. They stilled, watching each other again, calculating, and Sakura felt a thrill of exhilaration as their hands came together in perfect unison, seal on seal, shaping illusion. She almost laughed as they completed it together, even though she knew her opponent was not, now, where Sakura's eyes said she was.

The reverse was also true, after all. It would be a battle of skill against skill, to see who could control her chakra most finely, shape the illusion most unpredictably. "Right!" Sakura said, eyes gleaming, and was answered by a tiny smile from Fuunotora.

They stalked each other through the rough stone columns and sand, attack after attack, kunai and seal tags and delicate ninjutsu traps of quicksand or concentrated light, each trying to bracket where the other really was. Sakura's breath was coming quick and her skin was tingling with awareness. She shaped a gust of wind to discharge towards her, and yes! there was a break, a swirl of air that nothing she could see should have caused, there, her opponent was there!

Her spear-hand met only emptiness, though, and understanding hit her mind like a hammer—it had been a counter-trap. She twisted, grabbing a shuriken since she was out of kunai, trying to regain her stance, trying to turn and meet what had to be coming...

Hands found her shoulders and blackness swept over her.

She came up out of the black slowly, muscles gradually feeling less leaden and more like they belonged to her, enough so, eventually, for her to lift a hand and rub her eyes open.

"Sakura-chan!" Naruto practically pounced on her. "You're awake, are you okay?"

Sakura propped herself up on an elbow; she was lying on one of the benches at the rear of the balcony, with Naruto's jacket folded under her head. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Think so." She sat up a little gingerly, but everything still seemed attached and working.

And Fuunotora was standing at the foot of the bench, with a fresh bandage across her shoulder.

"You came very close to winning that one; you're fast and strong, as well as smart. You'll be very good, if you keep going," she said, dark eyes level. Sakura snorted, hearing the question buried in that cool statement. Considering how many kunoichi retired once they had kids, she supposed the question wasn't entirely unjustified. Still.

"Of course I'm going to keep going. This is my work." She smiled a bit wryly and waved a hand at Naruto, and Sasuke who was lurking behind him. "And this is my team, and I'm not leaving them." Naruto beamed, and Sasuke looked away only to glance back at her, hidden and sidelong, and she sat back, satisfied.

Fuunotora was smiling too, faint and pleased. "Good."

Okay, maybe the boys had a point about appreciating a good opponent.

"So did I miss any matches?" Sakura asked Naruto, as Fuunotora moved off to rejoin her own team at the balcony rail.

"You missed Neji and Lee, because that went kind of fast. Lee said that his honor demanded he fight Neji with everything he had, and he started opening up that Eight Gates move of his, and Neji got really pissed off at him and shut down his whole chakra system, one, two, three!" Naruto paused, thoughtfully. "Or one through sixty-four, I guess, since he had to hit all the chakra release points. And then he bawled Lee out for being an idiot and never thinking ahead, and said he should have used his taijutsu to break Neji's footing, and they were going to train until Lee got it right if it killed him. And then Gai-sensei got all weepy about his students' passionate teamwork, and he and Lee started coming up with how many times they were going to run around Suna backward, and Neji walked off in a huff."

Sakura could totally see why and decided, not for the first time, that Kakashi wasn't actually the most infuriating teacher they might have gotten.

"So now we're just waiting on the last match to be announced," Naruto finished, cheerfully.

Sakura nodded, but there was something nagging at the back of her mind. Tenten had fought the Sand genin with the taijutsu in the first match of round two. Then it had been her and Fuunotora. Then, apparently, Lee and Neji. That only left...

"Next match!" the examiner called. "Uzumaki Naruto versus Uchiha Sasuke!"

Sakura's breath stopped as Naruto and Sasuke nodded, unsurprised, and made for the stairs. Memory fell on her like a collapsing wall, her horror and hideous feeling of helplessness as her teammates launched killing techniques at each other and didn't even hear her when she tried to stop them. The smooth stone balcony under her feet was the hospital roof, the tension of the exam's final part was the fear in the wake of the invasion and discovery of Uchiha Itachi in their very village. She stumbled to her feet and up to the rail, clutching it like a life-line.

Naruto and Sasuke walked out into the arena, facing each other, and Sakura's hands clenched, white knuckled. Not again. Not again. They couldn't do this again.

Naruto produced two Shadow Clones and held out a hand in what was recognizably the start of Rasengan... and waited.

Sasuke stared for a moment and then actually clapped a hand over his face in what Sakura had no trouble seeing was utter disbelief; Sasuke had always had trouble believing it when Naruto acted like himself yet again. Sakura felt her chest relaxing and her breath starting to even out again.

"You are such an idiot! When you have an advantage you use it, you don't just stand around waiting!" Sasuke yelled, incensed.

"That wouldn't do what it needs to do, though," Naruto argued. "We didn't do it right, last time. This time we'll do it right, and it will work."

"What will work?" Sasuke asked, sounding a little lost though Sakura would bet he was trying to sound exasperated. She'd never been sure if he understood just how transparent that pretense had become, this year.

Naruto waved his arms so that his own clones had to duck, most definitely exasperated. "Last time we fought was all wrong! It was like you thought I was him or something! Of course it didn't work! But I'm not him, I'm me, and you're you, and this time we'll do it right." He held out his hand again, chin up, giving Sasuke a challenging grin. "Come on. This time it will work."

Sasuke stood staring at him for a long breath, and Sakura hoped, hand pressed to her lips, that no one else watching knew enough about them to understand what Naruto had just said. How much of his heart he'd just held out to Sasuke, open handed, daring Sasuke to match him. Daring Sasuke to fight him all out, not as enemies, not as a shadow of Itachi, but as friends. Boys, she thought, blinking back the prickle of water in her eyes. Finally Sasuke huffed out half of a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, fine." He set his feet and held down his own hand in the stance for Chidori, and suddenly the arena was ringing with the fierce surge of their chakra.

Chidori and Rasengan met in the middle of the arena and the air tore apart, and for one suspended moment the two concentrations of chakra strained against each other. And then the moment broke and both techniques slipped and careened into the arena walls.

"Are your teammates always this... vigorous?" Fuunotora asked, clutching the rail a little way down as the whole balcony shook.

"Pretty much, yeah," Sakura admitted, mouth quirked. Down in the arena, Naruto and Sasuke were standing, locked hand to hand still. She thought Sasuke might just have smiled, just a little, before he blew fire right into Naruto's face. Naruto yelped and rolled over the sand with no sense of control or dignity that Sakura could see, only to come up grinning and produce dozens on dozens of Shadow Clones. Sasuke's eyes narrowed, and then he was weaving through the Narutos, spinning and sliding aside from each attack like a leaf on the wind, bursting one after another of them. It was a beautiful bit of work, right up until the end when he abandoned elegance and dove on the real Naruto and put him in a head lock. She couldn't swear to it, but she thought he might have been giving Naruto a noogie when Naruto eeled around and threw Sasuke over his head.

Sakura buried her face in her hands and laughed, helplessly, feeling herself trembling in the wake of relief, of release of the fear she hadn't realized she'd been holding onto this long and this hard.

"Something very bad happened between them, didn't it?" Fuunotora asked from beside her, voice neutral.

Sakura took a few breaths to make her voice come out mostly steady. "I guess both Sand and Leaf know how that goes." And truly, Sasuke's crazed brooding last year had reminded Sakura more of Gaara than she really wanted to think too hard about. Watching a fellow shinobi lose himself was terrifying, and she'd come out of those mad months with far more sympathy for Temari and Kankurou. For Sand in general, really.

After a moment of silence, Fuunotora said, softer, almost inaudible over the crashes and explosions out in the arena, "I see."

Out on the sand, Naruto and Sasuke were doing their best to beat each other into pulp, but only in the way she saw them do at least once a week at home. The arena was pitted with craters and littered with kunai and shards of rock by the time they paused, both of them panting for breath.

"Gotta work on that endurance training some more," Naruto taunted.

Sasuke managed a snort. "And you need to work on that intelligence training some more." He hauled himself upright and threw a fistful of kunai, which Naruto nimbly ducked, dancing aside from the trailing wires.

"Dragon Fire?" he scoffed. "I can blow that away." He shaped the Rasengan again, fast and smooth Sakura had to admit, and stood cockily among the wires, waiting.

Sasuke's mouth quirked just faintly. "Let's see."

"Oh boy," Sakura murmured. She knew that expression.

And, indeed, instead of fire, it was the crackling brightness of lightning that grew in Sasuke's hand. And for one critical moment, Naruto stood still, surprised.

He'd barely gotten out half of his howl of protest before lightning flashed down the wires and grounded into him with a brilliant flash and smell of scorching.

Too experienced with Naruto to leave anything to chance, Sasuke pounced on him and held a kunai to his throat. "Surrender."

"Bastard," Naruto groaned, smoking. "Yeah, yeah, okay fine."

"He's still conscious after that?" Fuunotora asked, startled.

"That's Naruto." Sakura told her wryly, getting up. "If this were just their own training match, they'd go another round after this." She hurried to the top of the stairs to meet them as Sasuke hauled Naruto briskly up.

"That was so cheating," Naruto was arguing.

"We're ninja, you idiot," Sasuke told him, disgusted, "there's no such thing."

Naruto pouted at him and Sakura rolled her eyes as she helped him over to a seat.

"Actually," Kakashi-sensei put in, turning a page of his book, "both of you need to work on distance attacks. If you can adapt Rasengan and Chidori, that's a good start."

"Huh." Naruto looked thoughtful. "Wonder if I could throw it..."

"Next match!" the examiner announced. "Hyuuga Neji against Uchiha Sasuke!"

Sasuke looked down at Naruto for a long moment and finally said, "Guess training against your crazy endurance is useful after all." He turned and stalked back down the stairs, leaving Naruto to make faces at his back.

"Such a jerk," Naruto muttered, but Sakura could hear the downright affection in the insult.

Facing a Hyuuga, Sasuke fell back on his fire techniques as Neji pursued him around the arena. Sakura sighed a little, resigned to the fact that Sasuke never would think to use small traps to mire an opponent's feet in this kind of situation; she supposed she was lucky he was remembering to use wires to tangle Neji long enough for some of the flame strikes to get through.

"He's gonna turn it around," Naruto said, leaning over the rail beside her, eyes fixed on Sasuke. "You can tell. But how?"

"Heavenly Spin uses a lot of chakra," Sakura said thoughtfully. "Maybe he's trying to wear Neji down before he moves?"

"Oh! Yeah, that makes sense." Naruto grinned fiercely. "Right... about... now!"

Neji sprinted for Sasuke again and this time, after two steps away, Sasuke stopped dead, spun in place down to one knee, and met Neji with one empty hand at guard and a kunai that glowed and crackled.

"Hey!" Sakura sat bolt upright. "I thought he couldn't use Chidori more than three times in a day, still!" She was going to wring Sasuke's neck if he wasn't keeping her up to date on what he could do. Who was the mission strategist, here, after all?

Naruto was snickering. "He only hit me with half strength, you know. I'd have been a lot more fried otherwise." He leaned his chin on his palms, smiling down at the arena.

Neji was down, tremors radiating from where the kunai had sunk in. "I surrender," he growled out.

Sasuke thumped down cross legged on the sand, panting. "Good."

Neji accepted a medic's help up the stairs as the winner was announced, but then waved him off just as Naruto had. "He jarred my inner coils, but I can handle that just fine on my own given a little time. Good timing," he added grudgingly to Sasuke, and limped over to his own team.

Sasuke sat heavily, elbows on his knees, head hanging. Naruto seemed not to notice, demanding, "So, what did you do? How did it work?"

Sakura stifled a laugh at Sasuke's faint groan and took pity on him. "He waited until Neji's chakra was too depleted to repel the lightning chakra, and used the kunai to channel it into Neji's chakra system." Sasuke nodded, and she added, "That was a good improvisation, using the weapon as a channel."

"Got the idea from the wires," Sasuke mumbled, eyes closed.

"Next Match! Fuunotora Chie against Matsumura Souji!"

Down in the arena, Fuunotora and the taijutsu specialist were facing off. After several long moments of staring at each other while the spectators started to shift and rustle, Matsumura lifted both his hands. "I forfeit," he announced in a clear, carrying voice.

"Do you have a reason to offer?" the examiner asked after a startled moment.

"I am familiar with Chie-san's skills. They are greater than mine. I don't believe it's necessary to demonstrate that again." Matsumura nodded politely to the examiner and turned to make his way back up the stairs.

"In that case, I suppose we'll continue straight to the final match," the examiner concluded, brows still raised. "Final match! Fuunotora Chie against Uchiha Sasuke!"

Sakura hissed. "That bastard! He did that on purpose, so Sasuke wouldn't have a chance to rest!"

"A display of good strategy, in the broader view," Kakashi-sensei murmured, infuriatingly calm.

Sasuke heaved a deep breath and stood before Sakura could strangle their teacher. "All right."

"It'll be a lot like fighting me," Sakura told him hastily. "Only worse."

Sasuke's mouth quirked. "Wish me luck, then."

"You're blushing." Naruto nudged her, as Sasuke went back down the stairs.

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, hands over her warm cheeks.

This match was drawn out. Sasuke, vaguely sensible for once, waited for Fuunotora to come to him, Sharingan active to pierce any illusion and track her ninjutsu. Fuunotora worked around the edges of his stance, opening little pits under his feet to make him shift, setting wire traps he had to use up attention and strength to undo, dodging his fire techniques and kunai alike. In the end it came down to Fuunotora's chakra control, as Sakura had been afraid it would. When Sasuke finally sidestepped into one of her little pit traps to avoid her shuriken, Fuunotora snapped it closed again around his foot with an efficient reversal in a single hand seal and sprinted up behind him to slap her hand against his spine. Sasuke slumped unconscious and Fuunotora let him down to the sand.

"That was what she got you with, at the end," Naruto said. "I, um, kind of freaked out a little when she did it the first time."

Sakura followed his sidelong glance at a slightly scorched patch of stone and elbowed him gently. "Sap."

"Well, how was I supposed to know it was just sleep?" he defended himself, indignant. "I mean, the spine! You can do all sorts of bad shit to someone that way!"

"Winner of the tournament! Fuunotora Chie of the Sand!" the examiner announced.

Naruto made a horrible face and Sakura found herself laughing. "It's a better end than the last exam had," she told him, inarguably. "Come on. Let's get Sasuke up here to sleep it off while they decide who passed."

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Five

In which Naruto learns healing, Sasuke has Jiraiya inflicted upon him, and Sakura gets more dangerous. Humor, Drama, Fluff, I-3

"So," Kakashi said, perching on Tsunade's file cabinet despite Shizune's blistering glare as she tried to put away the promotion files. After a year of dealing with him, Tsunade was positive that he did annoying things like that just to be annoying. Which was, well, annoying. She already had Jiraiya to stir things up, and he sure as hell didn't need an understudy. What she hadn't figured out, yet, was how to stop him. She was sure something appropriate would come to her in time, though.

"So, what?" she asked, just a bit suspicious.

"So, what are we going to do with my team now?" he asked, in an obnoxiously reasonable tone. "They've all three been promoted; Konoha had a good showing at the exam this year. Normally, I'd suggest you keep them together as a high-level team, given how well they already work together. But I'm sure you saw what happened during the exam."

Tsunade leaned back in her chair, frowning. She certainly had. "He drew hard on the fox's power when he thought Sakura might have been hit with something fatal. It's definitely triggered by protectiveness, right now." Her mouth curled. "Temari, the Kazekage's sister, was up in the box with us and she had a seal out and ready like that." She snapped her fingers. "She'd have used it, too, if Sasuke hadn't sat on Naruto to calm him down. I think Gaara expected something like this might happen."

"I spoke with him, after the exam," Kakashi offered, crossing a foot over his knee. "He offered us copies of Sand's scrolls on the tailed beasts and their hosts, but he didn't have much more training than Naruto."

"Which is undoubtedly why he's had such difficulty controlling that damn tanuki of his." Tsunade sighed. "At this rate we may have to negotiate with one of the villages of the other great nations." And she didn't even want to contemplate what kind of concessions they'd demand in return for training someone else's host, but something had to be done and done soon.

"You know," Kakashi said, slowly, "I've looked through the scrolls myself. The one thing that's repeated over and over is that a host has to know himself, know his own chakra, and be able to manipulate both his and the beast's chakra very finely."

Tsunade considered that, and then considered Naruto, and groaned. "We're doomed."

"Maybe not." Kakashi laced his hands over his knee as he shifted it out of Shizune's way just in time to dodge her irritated swat. "I've been thinking. The ninja who learn to know and control chakra the most finely are generally the medics, aren't they?"

Tsunade blinked. "I... suppose that's true, yes." And then she frowned and held up a hand. "Wait just a minute. Are you suggesting that we train Naruto as a medic?"

"It seems like the best way to achieve what he needs without having to go to Hidden Cloud or Hidden Rock. Or worse, Hidden Mist."

Tsunade settled back in her chair, reaching for the kunai weighing down some files to turn it absently through her fingers as she thought. "I suppose it might work," she murmured doubtfully, "but who could possibly handle him during that kind of..." She trailed off and directed an extremely suspicious look at Kakashi. He spread his hands, eye crinkling up all smiley and innocent. "You bastard," she growled. "You've been planning on this! You scheming, evil-eyed shit! You—"

It took her a solid minute and a half to run out of names to call him. The stark understanding that no one else could teach Naruto a healer's arts, and deal with the kind of screw-ups his power might produce, drove her to dredge up words she hadn't used since the last time she'd been up north of Earth Country in the winter.

"You already like him, though," Kakashi positively wheedled when she finally ran down. "And it would definitely reassure the village to see the Nine-tails' host learning healing."

She threw the kunai at him, dead center, and snarled when he evaded it. Shizune caught it on the rebound and put it silently back on top of its stack of paperwork. "Okay," Tsunade growled, after a long, furious glare during which she tried and failed to think of any other possible teacher. "Okay, fine. I'll do it. That kid is the only thing that can drag me into this kind of insanity, and it will serve him right when he gets to be Hokage and has to deal with it all himself!" She sat back, glowering at him. "All right, if Naruto is staying here to be trained, what about his team?"

"They'll all set up a howl if two go out without their third," Kakashi noted dryly. "So they all need to be reassigned for a little bit. It isn't entirely uncommon for the year after promotion to be a time for advanced training. I thought Sakura might enjoy a stint with Intelligence; it's suited to her skills."

Tsunade looked at him narrowly. "True enough. That only leaves the other problem child. We've kept those three together for Sasuke's sake this long; what can we do now to keep him from backsliding?"

"Well," Kakashi murmured, examining his nails. "I thought we might make use of Sasuke's competitive streak. If we give him a teacher equal to Naruto's, and one who has a character similar to Naruto's, I think that should keep him progressing nicely."

Tsunade stared at him, eyes widening as those specifications sank in. "Equal to...? Similar to...?" Finally she couldn't help herself any more, and burst out laughing until she had to hold her stomach and Shizune finally demanded to know what the joke was.

"Myouboku Mountain's Monk of the Toad Spirits... also known as the Toad Sage.... is here!" A long white tail of hair flounced and wood geta managed to hit the dust with a firm clack.

"You're what," Sasuke said, very flatly. It wasn't even a question. There was no possible question in the world to which that was the answer.

Sakura's eyes were the size of saucers and the Hokage had a hand over her face. Naruto, on the other hand, was hanging over someone's front gate laughing like a hyena. Sasuke gave serious thought to setting his butt on fire with a Fire Blossom.

"I know he doesn't look it," Tsunade sighed, "but this idiot really is my old teammate. Jiraiya, meet Uchiha Sasuke. Sasuke, meet the Toad Idiot."

"You're so cruel, Tsunade," the old man actually pouted. And they expected Sasuke to walk around being seen in public with this guy?

Naruto finally caught his breath a little. "No, no, he's actually really good. He's the one who taught me the Rasengan! I bet you have lots of fun traveling with him."

"I'm not sure I want to be anywhere near someone who teaches things you think are interesting," Sasuke pointed out dryly.

"Hey, it was totally my own idea to do a panty raid on Temari-san," Naruto huffed, crossing his arms. Sasuke contemplated this.

"I think that was my point."

"If it helps, he also taught the Fourth, so he's not actually as useless as he likes to look," Tsunade put in. "And there's the other side of this too." She folded her arms, brows drawing down. "Even after a full year, we're still getting probes from Hidden Sound, and most of them happen when you're in the village. Orochimaru obviously hasn't given up. And if you're not going to have a pathologically overprotective beast host right at hand, who can be counted on to follow right after any kidnapping, setting forests on fire with his chakra as he goes, Jiraiya is the next best thing."

Naruto looked smug until she flicked him over the ear. "That wasn't actually a compliment, brat."

Naruto glowered at her, rubbing his ear, only to perk up a second later. Sasuke would never understand Naruto's mood swings. "Hey, I bet he can teach you summoning!"

Still flustered by Tsunade's remark about overprotectiveness, and the little curl of warmth it had caused, Sasuke crossed his arms. "Uchiha don't use summons."

"You're the last Uchiha, I don't see why you can't do whatever you please and call that what the Uchiha do," Jiraiya said mildly.

Sasuke was struck very still, unprepared for that kind of insight after all the clowning.

Jiraiya rested a hand on his shoulder, dark eyes holding Sasuke's. "Don't limit yourself inside your own mind."

Slowly, Sasuke nodded. Maybe this would work after all.

Sakura,

You have the library handy, maybe you can tell me. Is it possible to request a rescue mission from one's own tutor? I'll pay for it out of my own pocket. We've spent the last week in the red light district of this town. The only ninjutsu practice I'm getting is figuring out how to haul his carcass home from the bars! Yesterday I used Transformation and turned him into a cat long enough to get him home; a neutered cat. The day before that I used a new wind jutsu to roll him along the street. Neither made him stop. I think he's trying to drive me crazy.

Sasuke

Sakura folded the letter away, giggling helplessly. She wondered how long it would take Sasuke to catch on that he was already in training. Another week at least, she wagered with herself; he could have a very one-track mind once he got an idea in his head.

She wondered a little whether even being taught by someone who seemed a lot like Naruto at sixty would be able to shake that.

Sakura was out in the courtyard of the Intelligence complex, working on advanced concealment techniques with a handful of other newcomers, when an explosion rocked the morning. Everyone looked up with a jerk as smoke billowed out of the top of the administrative center, but Sakura relaxed as an orange blur emerged. She could practically hear the cackling.

"Get back here, you brat!" Tsunade-sama's voice echoed down the block. "That was my favorite coat, you little shit! I'm going to turn everything you own baby pink for a week!"

"Oh, Naruto," Sakura sighed, even as her mouth quirked up helplessly. At least he was getting along with his teacher. In fact, she worried just a little sometimes that Tsunade would be a bad influence on him.

"Demon fox, huh?" One of the other newcomers, Shimasu, eyed the way Naruto had gone and shook his head. "Kind of explains a few things, doesn't it? Are we sure that thing can't get out?"

A chill tingle of anger rushed over Sakura and she had to take a moment to unset her jaw and smile at him with complete insincerity. "Oh, there's no need to worry at all. Naruto only draws enough of the Nine-tails' chakra for aspects to emerge when something he truly cares for is threatened." She clasped her hands demurely. "The village did a good job, there, I must say. After the way he's been treated, there's almost nothing here he cares for that way." The last sentence came out edged with ice and Shimasu's head jerked up.

"Who do you think you are?" he demanded, straightening up to loom over her. "I have five years seniority as a chuunin, missy, and..."

Enemy, the back of Sakura's mind whispered to her, threat to the team. Familiar calculation flickered through her thoughts as she eyed Shimasu coolly. She had watched him joking and shoving with some friends. His attacks were strong, but his defense was weak. If it came down to a confrontation, a binding seal would immobilize him for her to get behind him and then she could take her time getting the sensory-blocking technique Fuunotora-san had taught her right, and that should take care of him. And... he was backing away. She'd need to work fast...

"Sakura." Miuhara's hand fell on her shoulder and she blinked up at their trainer. He looked amused and relaxed, but there was a gleam of something else in his pale, sharp eyes. "That's some impressive killing intent, I admit. Work on hiding it."

Right, she wasn't with her team, they weren't in the field anymore, and, um, she probably wasn't supposed to treat another Leaf-nin like an enemy. Even if he kind of was. Only not that way, she told herself firmly, and took a breath, cheeks a little hot. "Yes, Miuhara-san. I'll work on that."

And she would, of course. No sense letting a threat to her team know she was coming.

Naruto wasn't the only one who felt that way.

Hey! Did Gamakichi step on you? I told him to step on you when he delivered this. How's it going with you and the ero-sennin? See, you should have let me teach you Sexy no Jutsu before you left, it's the best way to get his attention.

Tsunade-baachan is a slave driver, I think it must be an old-person thing. She makes me sit and MEDITATE for, like, hours, and the fox chakra itches. But I can already do chakra transfer, as long as it isn't for something really fiddly. So? What about you, what can you do? Come on, tell me, or I'll tell Gamakichi to lick you next letter I send!

Naruto

Sasuke folded the paper up again, neatly, and wondered how Naruto managed to actually hold a conversation in a single letter. He'd complain about Naruto putting words in his mouth, except... he usually got them right.

He tucked the letter safely away in his pack and lay down, firmly ignoring Jiraiya's knowing grin on the other side of the fire. Reacting would just encourage the man. If Sasuke was relieved enough at the distraction to smile at a letter from his teammates, well that wasn't to Jiraiya's credit, was it?

He pulled his pack over to use as a pillow, listening to the soft crackle of paper that all the letters from home made.

Naruto let the last history scroll roll closed on the words that described too calmly how a band of extremists from Hidden Mist, opposed to both bloodline talents and hosts, had broken through the guards while his mother was giving birth and damaged her seal, releasing the Nine-tails. "So. That's why people don't like me," he said, low, looking down at the scarred surface of the table in the little, wood-paneled room beside the Hokage's office, where he studied.

"For a long time, now, hosts have been the sacrifices of their villages, one way or another." For once, Tsunade-baachan wasn't yelling. "Konoha has tried to honor ours, but when the Nine-tails escaped and your mother was lost..." she sighed. "I think Sarutobi-sensei made the wrong choice. But some people are idiots, and his journals say that there was a lot of loose talk right after the attack. People saying Kushina-san had failed, or that she should never have tried to have a child since it put the seal in danger. He didn't want them taking that out on you."

Naruto's hands closed into fists. "My mother didn't fail."

Hands closed over his, stronger than any hands had a right to be, strong like the vast voice locked inside him, strong like maybe his mother's would have been, and Tsunade-baachan shook him a little. "Of course she didn't fail! Kushina-san was a hero, a greater hero than her husband! She gave her life to hold and guard Konoha's most dangerous weapon, and I honor her memory."

Naruto sniffed and swallowed. He wasn't crying, he wasn't. "How come the hosts don't have a monument, then, huh?"

"Maybe we'll make one." She scruffled up his hair. "Then you'll be on two monuments. One with your mom and one with your dad."

Naruto finally looked up, and if his grin wavered a little Tsunade didn't show she noticed. "So, hey," he said, sturdier, latching on to a much easier question for distraction, "we used to have a lot more beasts, didn't we? Why'd the First give so many away? I mean," he prodded his stomach, frowning at it, "the fox is really, really strong. Wouldn't we have been the strongest village if we'd had more?"

"We might have." Tsunade-baachan sat back in her chair on the other side of the table. "Or we might have scared the villages of the other great nations so much they'd have allied to get rid of us. That's what my grandfather thought, at least. We did get a lot of treaties out of those gifts." Her mouth twisted. "Even if half of them fell apart a generation later."

Naruto jammed his chin into his hands, frowning harder. "When I'm Hokage, I'm going to find a way to make everyone quit fighting like that. Why can't we just have a match, like at the chuunin exams, instead?"

Tsunade sighed. "Because the side whose team lost would want to do it again, with a stronger one, and sooner or later we'd be using whole armies again. That's kind of what a war is, kid. And as soon as people get killed, you have revenge getting into it, and it never ends." She leaned across the table and poked him in the stomach. "You know that already. Look at the way you reach for all of this, the moment you think one of your team is being hurt, or in danger of dying. Like when Sakura went down, during the exams."

Naruto growled, and then jumped, startled. This time, he could really, actually feel the surge of the fox's hot, raw chakra. "...oh."

"Most people don't have a demon beast to draw on," Tsunade-baachan said, raising one brow at him, "but everyone reaches deeper like that when the people they love are hurt. Everyone. Think about that."

Naruto thought about it, and chewed on his lip, and scowled, and finally burst out, "I'll find a way anyway! I don't know how, but there's got to be something to get people to stop!"

He expected the old bat to scoff, but she just smiled. "Maybe you will. Now." She rapped the table and rose. "Time for your meditation exercises."

Naruto groaned pathetically, but she showed no mercy and just pointed at the cushion on one side of the room. Naruto dragged himself over to it with a deep sigh and arranged his hands in the reverse Bird, and listened to the distant growl of the fox inside. One thing he would say, though never to Tsunade-baachan: it was getting easier to tell when the growl was the fox's and when it was his.

Maybe more people just needed to do this.

Naruto,

If you don't stop telling that toad of yours to jump on my head with the letters, I'm going to fry him.

And no, of course it's not your fault that a surgery you were assisting at failed. Unless, of course, you were actually the one bonding in the new bone and you somehow forgot to mention that part. Quit being an idiot. You're not actually incompetent, at least when you pay attention. And you do that more these days.

Stop worrying.

Sasuke

The owner of Ichiraku Ramen set down Naruto's bowl and smiled across the counter. "There, now, that's more like it. You've looked down for days. Cheer up! I made the ramen extra spicy for you!"

Naruto tucked the letter into his jacket and split his chopsticks. "Yeah, sometimes you gotta remember the good stuff in life!" He scooped up his first slurp of noodles with a tiny smile.

Sasuke had to admit, if only to himself, that Kakashi-sensei had been right. His team could keep him sane. He really missed them, having to deal with Jiraiya day in and day out. Naruto was comfortingly straightforward, by comparison, and he was positive that Sakura would have slapped Jiraiya very satisfyingly at least once a day.

And he wanted to be where Sakura was, getting the run of Intelligence, so badly he could taste it. He wanted access to secured records so he could find out where Itachi had gone, and what he was doing, and how Sasuke could finally kill the man and avenge his family.

Before the man could do it again and kill his... his team. His team, that was all. (Family dies. Family betrays. Not family.)

He shook his head sharply to settle his thoughts, and one of his lines of ink went astray.

"Redo that," Jiraiya told him, glancing over. "Summons aren't like ninjutsu; they don't go away until you dismiss them or the summoning seal is disrupted, and even that's chancy. You should have the dismissal right on hand the first time, and formally written as a seal, in case anything goes wrong. Decided what you want to try for, yet?"

"Hawks," Sasuke answered shortly, reaching for a fresh sheet of paper. The thought had come to him about a week ago, watching one circling over the hill they were on. It seemed appropriate to make a contract with another creature of legendary eyesight, after all. Besides, then he'd have his own summons to send letters by.

"Hmm. Sharp-eyed, so single minded they fly into cliffs on the hunt, no sense of humor... I can't imagine why this didn't occur to the Uchiha years ago."

Sasuke considered trying out his new Chidori Senbon on his teacher, but he was pretty sure it wasn't stable enough yet, and he'd just be more annoyed if Jiraiya dodged it. Maybe, he thought as he turned back to his brushwork, a hawk would be willing to pick up one of the damn toads and drop it on Jiraiya's head.

That was a Naruto sort of approach to the problem, but right now he was irritated enough not to mind that.

Sasuke,

It sounds like you're making a lot of progress, even if Jiraiya-sama is aggravating. We've had a bit of a stir, here, and I don't know if Naruto will tell you about it. Someone brought their little girl to the hospital with a broken arm, while he was assisting, and the medic asked him to do the anesthetic for her. I guess the father was really wound up, because he started yelling that no fox demon was going to touch his child. Well, there was the mother of a little boy in to have his tonsils out just in the hall and she started yelling at the father that he was disloyal to Konoha to say something like that about the Fourth's own son. So there the two adults were, howling and screeching at each other, and Naruto in the middle just doing the pain-suppression. I was so proud of him! Well, in the end, the little boy came wandering in and sat down with the little girl, and by the time the parents got done yelling Naruto was spinning tops for both of them on the floor and they'd both stopped crying. I'm told that the father looked very shamefaced when he took his daughter home, as well he should. I honestly think the mother alarmed Naruto more, though; he still doesn't know how to deal with that.

I looked in the files, after you mentioned it, but none of them that I could get my hands on had any information about where Itachi is now, or where Akatsuki might be based. There's speculation that it's in Water Country somewhere, but it's all just rumor, nothing substantiated.

I did find something else, though. Keep an eye out, okay? When Tsunade-sama said that the Sound-nin keep showing up looking for you, she wasn't joking.

Sakura

Sasuke frowned over Sakura's letter. He hadn't thought Tsunade was joking, exactly, but he hadn't seen the slightest sign of Sound-nin anywhere in the last five months. He was much more interested in those rumors about the Akatsuki base. Maybe Jiraiya would agree to a trip into the Water Country if Sasuke said he'd heard the bars all had gorgeous servers or something.

And Naruto was an idiot. He should have just used the first anesthetic seal on the loud-mouth father, so he could do his work in peace and quiet. There was no excuse for that kind of thing.

Sasuke pulled over a sheet of paper and a pen to explain to Naruto in detail what he should to about that kind of interference next time, eyes glinting.

"Naruto! Did Tsunade-sama let you go for the day?" Sakura slid onto the bench of the dango shop across from him, pinning a case of papers firmly under her heel. Probably top secret or something, she was getting really into that stuff these days. Naruto pried himself upright from his sprawl across the table with a groan.

"She's a killer. We don't need assassins any more, all we need to do is have her train people. They'll drop dead in a month. She had me transferring chakra all day, in different proportions, if you can believe it, of my chakra and the damn fox's."

Sakura's brows rose. "Naruto, that's a really advanced technique."

He blinked. "It is?" The old bat hadn't told him that. "Huh."

"Well, here, you'll like this, then." Sakura fished an envelope out of her pouch. "Sasuke's latest letter came, and he said to share this one with you."

Naruto straightened up more, reaching for the letter eagerly. It really helped, these days, to hear from Sasuke. Who'd have ever thought, two and a half years ago, when they'd all first met? He blinked at the opening lines and read aloud, bemused.

"May all the spirits of my ancestors look on me with favor and preserve me from this utter asshole. Striking him dead would be favorite; it can't be hard the way he lives. No sooner were the words 'Water Country' out of my mouth than he hauled us off to Wind instead. We're doing laps around the central desert, practicing a different set of elemental techniques with every one. Do you know what they drink out here? Whatever it is, it makes him sing."

Naruto had to stop then to put his head down and laugh.

"Have you ever heard Jiraiya-sama sing?" Sakura asked, curious.

"Yes!" Naruto gasped, "that's why I'm laughing!"

Sakura leaned her chin in her hand, grinning. "So, is Sasuke right when he says the donkeys can carry a tune better?"

Naruto wrapped his arms around his stomach, sniggering too hard to answer as he imagined Sasuke's response to Jiraiya's sentimental caterwauling. Sakura just shook her head, smiling, and stole his glass of water for a few sips.

"Well," Sakura said when he finally caught his breath, "at least he should be more satisfied with his actual training, now. And being around Jiraiya-sama seems to be good for him, in a way."

Naruto wiped his eyes and stole back his water. "Yeah, he sounds a lot more human, these days. Less like he has one of those Uchiha fans stuck up his ass."

Sakura mock-glowered at him. "Tsunade-sama has had a very bad influence on your language, Naruto."

Naruto cocked his head, grinning, and waved the letter. "Seems to be a Legendary Three thing, since Sasuke's is getting just as bad." Sakura snorted and Naruto paused. "Um." He fidgeted a minute, looking down at his napkin. "Sakura-chan? Does that... bother you?" He snuck quick looks up at her as he twisted his napkin into a knot.

"That you and Sasuke are being taught by two of the Three and I'm not?"

Naruto winced at the way she knew exactly what he was talking about. That couldn't be a good sign, could it?

She steepled her hands together, looking at her fingertips. "I'm a little envious, sometimes," she admitted, softly. "But then I think... all three of us had to give things up for the training we're getting now. Sasuke has to be on the road while you and I get to stay together here. You had to start training in healing, and I know that was never a goal of yours. I don't have a legendary tutor all my own, but, you know, I also don't have a legendary enemy after me personally and I also don't have a demon fox sealed inside me I have to figure out how to deal with." She looked up at him with her mouth tilted. "I'm kind of okay with those things. And I do like working with Intelligence; I think it carries a lot of weight with them, that Kakashi-sensei recommended me."

"Well, that's because you're awesome, Sakura-chan," Naruto mumbled, looking at his napkin again. "I always thought so."

She actually smiled at that, instead of passing it off or smacking him in the shoulder, and that made him have to drop the napkin before he actually ripped it.

"So, go on and read what else Sasuke says," she said lightly. "I thought the part about the camels was pretty good, and he's got a new form of Chidori."

Naruto spread out the letter again with a little relief. Sakura was awesome, but Sasuke was easier to understand any day.

Sasuke leaned back on the rail of the boat, looking up at the sky above them. It seemed endless, from this angle, the blue only broken by a few hazy veils of cloud. He wished his life were more like that sky.

Annoyingly familiar weight settled beside him with what had to be deliberate thumps and creaks. "Looks like we'll have a good, clear passage," Jiraiya remarked, all bluff and cheerful.

Sasuke give his teacher a Look, and Jiraiya just smiled, perfectly sunny and impervious.

"Ah, there's the true Uchiha glare. What are you so pissy about this time? We're heading for Water Country just like you wanted, aren't we?"

"For your purposes," Sasuke pointed out with precision. "Not mine."

Jiraiya waved a finger at him and took a drink from his jug. "Nonsense, my purposes are yours! We're going to investigate!"

"No," Sasuke said. "They're not the same. You're always trying to get me to change the way I look at things, or think about something. Like the way you keep reminding me of my clan, but always in a way that would push me away from our traditions." He snorted as Jiraiya raised his brows. "Sakura may be the best at this, but that doesn't mean I don't use my brain too."

After a long moment, Jiraiya leaned back against the rail beside him and looked up at the sky. "You have the potential to be a fine shinobi. And a very powerful one. But you'll never realize it if you pay more attention to the past than the present."

"I'm not going to forget my clan!" Sasuke snapped.

"And here you said you used your brain," Jiraiya mused and took another drink while Sasuke glared at him. "Of course you won't forget them. But you should blunt the memory a little so it doesn't cut you." He quirked his eyebrow at Sasuke. "The Uchiha had many things to be proud of, and one madman doesn't erase that. You don't have to prove every bit of their honor all by yourself."

Sasuke flinched. It wasn't fair how Jiraiya could spend all his time acting like a drunk buffoon and then turn around and do things like this. See and say things that felt like a knife going in past his guard. Only without hurting. Exactly.

Jiraiya clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, come on, then! We're at sea; time to work on water techniques, maybe see what you can make of them combined with that Chidori of yours."

Sasuke sighed and did as he was told. The part of his brain that wasn't thinking about conductivity and possible applications of steam, though, wrapped those words about the honor of Uchiha around his heart and took comfort in them.

Naruto, Sakura,

We're coming back to the village for a little while. Found absolutely nothing about Akatsuki in Water Country, though Mist seems to have had yet another civil war. It sounds like it's about time, too, the last Mizukage and his cohort must have been really twisted. I'm almost surprised Akatsuki wasn't here, [blot that might have started with an I] they'd have been right at home.

See you soon.

Sasuke

A/N: Given how much time Madara spends, in canon, getting other people to do his dirty work, it never sat right with me that he was the only one involved in the attack on Kushina. So here he stirred up the Mist fanatics to attack instead.

Up on the Angel's Shoulders

Kakashi achieves the Mangekyou Sharingan, turning to his past to do it. His past visits him while he recovers. Takes place just after Chapter Seven of Half Without Another One and "And We'll Laugh About It". Angst, Drama, Angst, Fluff, Did I Mention Angst? Also Gore, I-5

Hatake Kakashi was known and feared through the five great countries and a dozen little ones. Sharingan Kakashi. The Copy Nin. The man who copied a thousand jutsu.

What no one seemed to remember was that Kakashi had graduated as a genin at five. Had passed his chuunin exam at six. And he had been jounin at thirteen, before he ever received the Sharingan.

Of course, that forgetfulness was mostly his own doing. The Sharingan's greatest single use to him was not expanded perception, or the ability to copy others' techniques, or even intimidation value. Its greatest use was as camouflage. No one had to wonder why the man with a thousand jutsu kept winning; the answer was self evident.

It was also wrong.

Kakashi was not a collector of jutsu. He was a scholar of them. He rarely used what he had copied except as a psychological ploy. Instead he studied them, looking for patterns among them, looking for the deeper answers to why one technique succeeded and another failed, looking for the weaknesses one could point out in another. Looking for the reasons and roots of chakra itself.

Right now he was sitting on the edge of his apartment building's roof, staring into the wind and thinking about the Sharingan.

Common knowledge, if a clan secret could be called such, said the Sharingan activated under great stress or emotion. Kakashi thought he saw a much more specific pattern than that, though. Of the three activations he had seen himself, all of them had been in the field. None of them had been triggered by fear for the Uchiha's own life. No, all three had been triggered by need, an absolute, driving need to protect, not themselves, but their fellows. To protect an emotional bond of great importance.

Really, it was no wonder the First had offered the Uchiha guardianship of the village itself; it was a purpose wedded perfectly to the nature of their bloodline. It was almost the mandate of their clan—always provided the bonds of the village were ones the Uchiha cared for. Some generations that worked out better than others.

That was a conclusion Kakashi had come to years ago, though. It wasn't what brought him up to the roof today. No, what brought him up to the wind and height, seeking perspective, was something new.

Something Sasuke had brought to him earlier that day.

"Kakashi-sensei." Sasuke stood at the foot of Kakashi's tree, looking up and frowning. "You know a lot about seals, right?"

Kakashi raised a brow. Not the usual kind of question from Sasuke, who liked direct attacks and large explosions almost as much as Naruto did. He dropped lightly to the ground beside his student, head cocked. "Quite a bit, yes. Though I should warn you right now, I'm not going to help the three of you break into the library at the Hokage's Residence, or the Records room at the academy."

Sasuke gave him a faintly annoyed look, but didn't rise further to the bait. Kakashi guessed it must be serious, whatever it was. Sasuke held out a scroll. "Is there a seal on this?"

"Hm." Kakashi took the scroll and unwrapped it's tie delicately. It was an old one, the paper dry and crackling under his fingertips. "Where is this from?"

"The Naka Shrine," Sasuke said quietly, eyes fixed on the scroll, and Kakashi's hands stilled for a moment. He'd only been an affiliate of the Uchiha clan, not formally adopted; he'd never taken part in most clan rituals. But he'd at least heard of a few, and the Naka Shrine was where the deepest and oldest had been held. Records from the shrine could only be clan secrets.

The thing was, he'd never actually told Sasuke he was affiliated with Uchiha. As far as Sasuke knew, he was asking an outsider to unseal a clan record.

"Sasuke," he said softly, "what is this about?"

Sasuke shifted under his eyes, fidgeting. Kakashi waited him out. "There's... a record tablet there," his student finally muttered. "It talks about the Sharingan. Itachi told me to find it, when he... left." Sasuke swallowed hard, hands fisting for a moment. When he went on his voice was a little ragged. "It's mounted, and the mounting is a box. There were three scrolls inside. I took them out, then, but I... I never read them."

"Probably a good decision, considering everything on your hands at the time," Kakashi murmured, when it seemed like Sasuke had run aground in his explanation. "Did something change your mind?"

"Jiraiya-san," Sasuke said to his feet. "He said... I mean... He was always making me think about clan things. Really think." He half-laughed. "I hated it. But this last mission." Finally, he looked up, and his eyes were haunted. "I need to know everything. What if we did something like that man in Hidden Stone did? The Mangekyou Sharingan is bad enough! What if there's worse?!"

Kakashi rested a hand on Sasuke's shoulder. "Easy, now." He waited for his student to take a good breath and asked, "What is it about the Mangekyou Sharingan that's so bad?" The way Sasuke was talking, he didn't think it was just that Itachi used it.

Sasuke chewed on his lip for a few moments. "It's..." His eyes slid away again, but not before Kakashi caught a flash of shame in them. "It's wakened by killing your closest friend."

Kakashi sucked in a sharp breath. Now he understood why their last mission, and the absolute betrayal of Stone's shinobi by one of their own researchers, had brought this back to Sasuke's mind. He spared a moment to hope, very hard, that the fact he'd never heard of the Mangekyou before Itachi returned meant that it was an aberration, that only a very few of his second clan had ever been tempted into that kind of depravity. No wonder Sasuke was so tense. All he said, though, was, "All right, let's see what this scroll can tell us." He unrolled it carefully.

It wasn't all that long and he skimmed through it quickly. Warning followed dire warning about the method of waking the Mangekyou Sharingan that Sasuke had mentioned; a handful of names were listed, renegades who had taken this path and been executed for it. The death of both soul and chakra were cited as consequences of attaining the Mangekyou that way.

It was all curiously vague, though, and his fingers tingled faintly with each turn he unrolled.

"Hmm." Kakashi traced his fingers over the back of the scroll thoughtfully. "I think you may be right; there's probably more information hidden in here. Well, there's always the obvious thing." He nudged up his forehead protector and looked with his Sharingan.

"I tried that," Sasuke said quietly. "It didn't change anything, though."

"Mmm." Nothing was changing, no, but Kakashi's eye itched just a little, the back-of-the-eyeball itch that he'd felt sometimes trying to look through something that had a barrier seal on it.

Or something that had a very strong genjutsu shielding it.

"The curious thing about the Sharingan, you know," Kakashi said, peering closer, "is that it's an extremely localized technique. No chakra touches the object of your vision unless you deliberately turn it outward; rather, an alteration to your own chakra and eye structure changes the nature of your perception. Your own chakra control has a great deal of impact on how deeply you can perceive through the Sharingan." Sasuke was frowning at him in puzzlement and just a little annoyance at this recitation of the basics, and Kakashi's mouth quirked. "Remind me to teach you this."

He sent his hands flashing through the forty-three hand seals of the focusing technique Kazuo-san, his tutor among the Uchiha, had taught him long ago, focusing his chakra pin-point tight until his vision telescoped and the scroll's characters burned in his sight.

Burned and divided. Sentence lay over sentence, on the scroll, each one in the overlay continued by the one beneath it in the underlay.

"I learned that because my chakra isn't completely compatible with this eye," he said, jaw clenched against the disorientation of reading two layers at once. "It isn't usually taught to beginners. It burns chakra faster, but it deepens your perception." He broke the technique with a short gasp, squeezing both eyes shut for a moment to clear his head. "You should read that yourself," he said at last, "but in short it details all the consequences of awakening and using the Mangekyou Sharingan, none of which are pleasant."

Sasuke's shoulders relaxed all at once from their tight line. "Nothing else?" he asked, relieved.

Kakashi re-rolled the scroll carefully and handed it back. "Nothing else." At least, it recorded no more demons in the Uchiha past. Fortunate, that. The ones already mentioned were bad enough. Sasuke held the scroll in both hands, head bowed, and nodded.

After a moment, though, he took a deep breath and looked up, chin set and determined, shrugging out of his demons' hold. "That technique you used. Teach it to me."

Kakashi smiled, quiet and proud behind his mask. "Of course."

Kakashi drew up a foot against the edge of the roof and folded his hands around his knee. He'd told Sasuke the truth. The scroll spoke of nothing but the Mangekyou and its consequences: madness, blindness, corruption, death. But there were little turns of phrase in how those warnings were given that kept coming back to him.

The scroll spoke of those consequences following the forbidden awakening.

Was there, perhaps, another way?

Three times, he had seen the Sharingan awakened by the need to protect an emotional bond. Not always a completely friendly bond; indeed, in two out of three, the bond had been downright adversarial. But each had been powerful and deeply meaningful.

The best known way to awaken the Mangekyou Sharingan appeared to be taking just such a bond and breaking it.

Madness, yes. But that pattern suggested something more to Kakashi's scholar's eye: not only madness but conflict. The tension of opposites. In the beginning, the user killed to protect what he loved. In the end, he killed what he loved and had bloodied his hands to protect. Tension like that could tear a heart in two.

Tear it open.

That, he thought, might just be the key. Any path to the Mangekyou Sharingan must tear open the heart, right down to the core, far deeper than the first awakening. That wasn't the kind of pain any sane person would court. It was, however, a pain that came to shinobi sometimes, sought for or not. It was a pain Kakashi had known himself.

Could that knowing serve his village?

His lips quirked as he came face to face with what he was thinking. No wonder he'd sought the roof today, and not the Memorial. This wasn't a decision Obito could help him with. Obito would almost certainly have told him he was an idiot to even consider it and that he needed to spend more time healing his poor, battered heart instead of cutting it open all over again. Obito would have had a good point. But, for all his passionate attempts to keep Obito's spirit alive in his actions, Kakashi's life and heart had always been dedicated to Konoha's service. That was what had led him to war, to ANBU, to teaching, of all things, in the end.

"I've already paid this price," he murmured to the wind, to Obito's memory. "If handing over the measure I got for it will buy more strength, protection for my people... I'll do it."

Idiot, he could hear Obito chide, but the memory of his teammate smiled crookedly, the way he'd smiled at Kakashi that last day when they'd finally worked together as one. Kakashi closed his eyes and smiled back, wry. The high wind over the village kicked up in a gust for a moment, ruffling his hair and curling down the back of his neck. Kakashi bent his head, reminded of another counter in his measure, one who would surely have had his own words to say about this plan. "Yes," he agreed softly. "Your student is still as reckless as always, Minato-sensei."

The wind sighed, but gently.

Kakashi sat in the middle of his apartment, table and cushions pushed back against the wall, paper spread over the floor mats to hold the rings and radials of the seal he'd drawn around himself. There was another on the door, a barrier. He didn't want to be disturbed, and he didn't want any neighbors to be injured if he lost control. He could have requested one of the sealed rooms under Intelligence, of course, but then he'd have had to say why. He wasn't at all sure he could explain, at least not in a way that wouldn't get him bundled off at once to whoever was doing operative evaluations this year, to have his head examined.

"I never claimed to be sane to begin with," he muttered to Minato-sensei's memory, as he knelt in the middle of his seal rings. He could almost see his teacher's disapproving look as he set a cloth weapons roll in front of his knees and slowly unrolled it. This one didn't protect kunai. Instead, each section held a memento—the dark ones he hid away and never looked at.

Kakashi took a slow breath, closing both eyes for a moment. Today his forehead protector, with the muffling seals stitched and etched into the underside, lay beside him; he could already feel the hum of chakra through his Sharingan, released of all restraints. One by one, he released the restraints he normally kept on his heart as well—the light humor that hid his ferocity, the careful distance from his fellows that hid his passionate attachments, the pretty books that distracted him from the blood and shadows of his work, the cool calculation that kept at bay his wild need to act. He released them all until the core was bared, blazing free.

Love. Guard. Protect. Whatever it takes.

Slowly, flinching, he reached out to rest his fingers on the first memento, the knife his father had killed himself with. A faint sound forced itself out of his throat as he let himself feel the full weight of conflicting need and reality, of his hot need to protect and the cold memory of death and failure, of his father's body still and lifeless and a pool of blood soaking into the tatami. It hurt, like steel claws in his stomach.

He forced himself to touch the next one. A scrap of Obito's jacket, stained at the edge with blood. He'd cut the scrap away just before they left him behind, bones crushed to fragments, half his organs burst under the falling stone, eye socket empty. The empty body of the teammate who'd admired him, railed at him, challenged him, not with jutsu but with his heart—they'd left him behind, the one who'd made him understand Minato-sensei's words, the one he could have loved if he'd only known sooner! Love. Protect. They wrenched against Dead. Lost. Kakashi hunched in on himself, teeth clenched as water gathered in his wide, staring eyes.

One after another, he touched them and made himself remember. Rin's forehead protector, scratched and bent from the ambush that had killed her on a routine relief mission he hadn't been there for. A charred bit of wood from where Uchiha Hiashi, the only one he'd been willing to call his clan head, had been found, surrounded by dead Cloud-nin, both his eyes pierced by his own hand. The long lock of silky black hair that Haruko, ANBU's Swallow, had left him, her captain, along with her note of forgiveness the night she'd hunted down her own cousin unflinchingly and then walked out into the dawn and into the river to drown. An embroidered Uchiha insignia that he'd taken from the shoulder of Mai's uniform when he'd found his sometime lover dead in the streets with the rest of the clan, guts sliced open and sprayed up the wall beside her, laughing eyes empty and staring at the dark sky. With each memory, he fanned all the wild fire of his love and urge to protect as if there were still something he could do, even as he held the mementos tight and reminded himself of reality, the chill of death in their flesh when he'd found them.

Finally, the last memento was under his shaking fingers. One of the marker tags from Minato-sensei's final battle, edges torn and charred. Memory stabbed at him, of coming too late, far too late, of arriving only to see the Third straightening Minato-sensei's limbs and brushing blank, staring blue eyes closed. He'd been too late, followed too slowly when the Nine-tails turned away from the village and he'd seen flickers of Minato-sensei's chakra in the distance. He'd failed. Failed to protect his teacher, his Hokage, the one he loved and had sworn in his heart to serve with his life. The one he'd needed, above all, to guard.

Memory piled on memory, of love on love and death on death, and he clung tight to his burning need to protect over against the stony chill of failure until they both screamed in his mind and heart, shrieked and howled with all the fire and grief that was in him and the fragment of mind left sensible wondered if this was madness. Red darkness clouded his vision.

And broke.

The very air stilled and brightened around him. He could see every current of it and every dust mote, every thread of wood grain and every fiber of straw. Drawn to the snapping point between the two poles of need and reality, his chakra shifted and his Sharingan answered. Here was strength to serve his need, to break reality if need be.

The world warped around him.

The next thing Kakashi was aware of was someone banging fast and hard on his door.

"Kakashi?! Kakashi! Open this fucking door and let me in or I'll blow it in, I swear I will! What the fuck is going on?! Kakashi?"

Anko. Of course. He tried to speak, to reassure her that everything was fine and there was no need for property damage, and only managed to cough in a very raw throat. He noticed he was flat on his back, too, looking up at his ceiling. Maybe he could get up and go to the door, where he wouldn't have to speak as loudly. Yes, that was a good idea. Only he didn't seem to be able to move much. Kakashi frowned to himself, considering this dilemma.

"Kakashi!" The door burst inward, barrier seal smoking and shredding under the force of Anko's kick. She stopped short just inside, eyes widening. "Sweet demons fucking, what did you do?!" She swooped down on him, heaving him efficiently upright, hands moving fast in an ungentle damage check. Kakashi's eyes widened as he saw the mess in the middle of his room. The paper of his containment seals was shredded and there was a hole or a crater in his floor, where he'd been sitting.

The mementos were gone.

"New technique," he managed to rasp, leaning on Anko's shoulder heavily. "Stronger than expected."

"I'll say it fucking was!" Anko glared at him. "Why the hell are you experimenting with new jutsu in our apartment building and not—" Abruptly she broke off, staring at him. No. At his eye. "Kakashi-san," she said, low and sharp, "what did you do?"

He grinned wryly behind his mask. "Clan secret."

She frowned, but didn't argue. Anko always had been serious in the field. "I'm getting you down to the medics. Hospital or Intelligence?"

"Neither." As her frown turned darker, he sighed. "Shizune first." He didn't want news of this going any further than was absolutely necessary. He saw comprehension in Anko's eyes, even though her mouth was still tight and disapproving.

"Fine." She propped him roughly against his table and hunted through the shredded paper until she came up with his forehead protector. Both of them eyed the end of the band that had been cut or torn away. "Other end doesn't seem to be here," Anko observed flatly.

Kakashi smiled. "Interesting."

Anko glowered at him and clapped it over his left eye. "Tie that. I'll be right back." In the doorway, she glanced back over her shoulder and added, quietly. "You'd better know what you're doing. I don't think we can afford to lose you right now."

Kakashi knotted the band clumsily as she propped his door shut behind her. His fingers were shaking. Chakra drain, he judged, feeling the chill of his extremities—not completely incapacitating, but he was undoubtedly in for a little bed rest. Well, maybe he wouldn't argue too hard. Once Shizune and Tsunade were both done yelling at him for taking stupid risks, he figured they could all keep busy talking over this destructive or warping ability he seemed to have gained.

Part of him hoped they'd take a while yelling, though, because his heart was shaking worse than his hands. He felt wrung out, scoured, but still vibrating with an edge like a combat high. Part of him felt stricken, bruised, that those mementos had probably been destroyed. Another part of him felt settled, contented that they had been lost in this way and for this cause, as though they were a suitable price. At the same time, he felt numbed, as if he'd burned the memories out by focusing on them so hard. He still remembered; there was still pain. It was just the bloodletting edge that felt a little dulled. He didn't know whether that was a relief or a betrayal of his loved ones.

"Was it the right thing to do, sensei?" he asked thin air, softly.

In answer, the door banged open again and Tsunade herself strode through it with Anko shadowing her. "What the hell did you do to yourself this time, brat?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

The breeze from the swinging door ruffled through his hair like light fingers, and Kakashi bent his head into it for one moment, yearning with all his torn heart for the lost touch of his teacher's guidance and forgiveness. And then he looked up at his current Hokage with the most insouciant expression he could manage.

"Well, there was this scroll..."

Kakashi drifted up out of sleep to the feeling of fingers carding through his hair.

"That was an extremely foolish thing you just did," Minato-sensei said quietly.

"Mm. Had to," Kakashi murmured, sleepy but stubborn. Minato-sensei's sigh was familiar.

"You did not have to, but I don't expect you to admit that." He could nearly hear the quirk of his teacher's mouth. "Not out loud, at any rate."

Kakashi turned on his side and curled up against Minato-sensei's knee, the same way he'd hidden from and silently apologized for reprimands so long ago. So many years since he'd done it last, since he'd heard Minato-sensei's soft huff of amusement or felt gentle fingers tugging on his hair in answer. So long.

Wait.

Kakashi slowly opened his eyes and stared up at the man sitting beside him on his hospital bed. It really was Minato-sensei, long pale coat folded and crushed under his thigh, smiling a little at his shock as Kakashi leaned up on one elbow. "What..." he managed, raspy and harsh.

Familiar blue eyes were sober. "You tore your chakra, Kakashi-kun, right down to the root. The damage is echoing in both your body and spirit. Tsunade-san is wise to keep you under observation, here." A small smile, quiet but bright as anyone else's laugh. "But it does mean you'll be far more sensitive to the presence of spirits for a time, so I took the opportunity to scold you in person."

"You're... really here?" Kakashi whispered, shaky. "I'm not... I mean..." Of course, years in the field reminded him, if this was a dream or hallucination, it was perfectly capable of telling him it wasn't, so nothing was proved. In fact, he told himself sternly, bracing for the inevitable disappointment, any claim of being real should probably be taken as evidence that this was a figment of his own pain and imagination.

Minato-sensei leaned back against the wall beside Kakashi's flat hospital pillow, crossing his arms. "Define 'really'." Kakashi choked on a disbelieving laugh at that, and his teacher smiled, eyes glinting like he knew exactly what Kakashi had been thinking. "I'm as here as I've always been. And you are... not exactly dreaming."

That was not the answer he'd expect from a dream, no. It was definitely a Minato-sensei original. But then... "Why have you stayed?" Kakashi demanded. "How have you stayed?" None of the Hokage were in-shrined; the First had forbidden it, saying that no one who dirtied his hands and conscience with the things a good village leader had to do should ever be venerated.

"The Hokage Monument makes a very good shintai, actually," Minato-sensei observed lightly. "There are even offerings left there, sometimes, by those who feel too soiled to stand on purified ground in the shrines. As for why..." He looked down at Kakashi, eyes level. "Do you really have to ask that?"

Kakashi's eyes fell. "I suppose not," he said softly. The Monument. Which meant that Naruto had been clambering all over his father's actual face and painting it new and interesting colors; Kakashi wasn't sure whether that was unbearably sad or incredibly funny.

Wait. Naruto. He looked up again sharply. "Minato-sensei, if you're still here why haven't you spoken to Naruto?" Surely the village's host was spirit-touched enough to hear.

Minato-sensei slumped a little against the wall, sighing. "I wish I could. But the Nine-tails holds more than a bit of a grudge and drowns me out whenever I come too near." Sadly, he added, "I can't even really blame him."

As badly as his own heart ached tonight, Kakashi couldn't bring himself to press further against the darkness in his teacher's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Minato-sensei gave him that small, true smile again, and warmth curled through Kakashi. He'd cherished that look for as long as he'd known Minato-sensei, very nearly living from smile to smile and hoarding the reassurance and approval in them.

And then he'd lost them.

Abruptly his eyes were wet and he hastily flopped down again, turning his head a little into the pillow to blot them.

"Kakashi." Minato-sensei's fingers brushed his hair again, stroking through it gently. "I haven't left you. No matter how my most bullheaded student has infuriated or terrified me over the years, I haven't left you."

"I couldn't... I wasn't in time..." Kakashi started into his pillow, thick and choked, and his teacher's hand closed on his nape and gave him a light shake.

"Enough of that," Minato-sensei told him firmly. "It wasn't your job to save me. You didn't fail."

"But," Kakashi started, stubbornness waking again. He'd been a jounin already, surely it had been his job to support his Hokage! And then he gasped softly as Minato-sensei's hand tightened a little, strong and warm on the back of his neck.

"You did not fail." That was his Hokage's voice as well as his teacher's, and Kakashi subsided, just a little daunted, as always, by Minato-sensei's rare sternness.

"Yes, Minato-sensei," he murmured, lying quiet as that insistent absolution settled into his heart.

"Better." His teacher's hand was gentle again, stroking his hair. "Sleep now, Kakashi. Rest. Heal up from doing such a damn foolish thing."

Kakashi's cheeks were just a little hot. "Yes, Minato-sensei." He curled back up against his teacher's knee, and heard Minato-sensei's soft chuckle. Slowly his eyes did slide closed under the steady stroke of Minato-sensei's fingers through his hair.

"Remember," Minato-sensei's voice said quietly as he drifted back down. "It wasn't your fault or failure. None of it was."

When Kakashi opened his eyes again it was daylight, and there was no one sitting beside him. No sign anyone ever had been.

But his heart didn't hurt as much.

End

A/N: Looking at the scene with that record tablet, it doesn't look like there's room for much detailed information on it, even in two or three layers; I'm assuming that it's actually just the summary, what was written by the first generation to deal with the Mangekyou. Other information was added later in the form of those scrolls tucked away inside/behind the tablet.

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Nine

Sakura has to debrief and deal with the backlash of her time at Orochimaru's side. Fortunately, Naruto and Sasuke are there for her. Once that settles, though, Tsunade has to deal with the resistance of the Elders to promoting the three of them. Drama, Angst, Fluff, I-5

"All right," Kimiko, Sakura's attending Intelligence medic, declared, handing her back her shirt. "You're clear. No seals or techniques that would turn you, no sleepers that I can find, and you're impressively healed from Heart In a Net considering that you just about ripped it out by the roots. Have I mentioned how stupid that was?"

"This is the fifth time," Sakura sighed as she ducked her head through her shirt collar.

"Remember it," Kimiko directed firmly. "Hokage-sama?"

"Mmm." Tsunade frowned at her, arms crossed. "I still don't like that new seal of yours. It could kill you far too easily. By all rights it should be named a forbidden technique."

Sakura made a face. "Do you want to try to take it off?" She really didn't look forward to that at all. Besides... well, never mind.

"No, I suppose not." Sakura tried to ignore her leap of pleasure at those words as Tsunade ran a diagnostic palm over her shoulders again. "The surgery to sink this into you was very thorough, and getting it out would be even chancier than taking off that one of Sasuke's. Besides," her lips quirked, "you don't want to let it go, do you?"

Sakura winced a little. "It's not... I mean, it's just..."

Tsunade laid a hand on her shoulder. "Sakura. It's all right to like being strong, you know. That's what makes us all keep moving forward. You've demonstrated pretty conclusively that you want that strength to protect the village. I'm not worried."

Sakura bent her head. "Thank you, Tsunade-sama," she said softly, feeling another small band of fear loosen from around her chest. She looked up with a tiny smile. "You heal hearts too, I guess."

"Ah, go on with you." Tsunade gave her a little shove. "If Kimiko's cleared you, you're ready for the fun part." Both medics gave her alarmingly cheerful and toothy smiles and chorused, "Paperwork!"

Sakura contemplated this with a sinking stomach. "...you're sure you don't want to poke at the seal a little more?"

...It was at this point that I first started acting as a mission commander for a variety of Sound ninja, both genin and chuunin. I suspected, after the first two missions with entirely different teams, that Orochimaru was using my own experience to help train the Sound-nin to a higher standard; most of them did not possess the sophistication or training one would expect from an established village and tended to rely too heavily on their martial skills alone.

Sakura put her pen down and shook out her hand vigorously. In some ways, this was an easy section, a lot easier than putting her sparring with Kabuto into words. And then, in some ways, it might be the hardest. She had liked most of her teams, at least once she'd kicked a few asses and they knew to take her seriously. She thought most of them had liked and respected her, in the end. After all, she'd helped them. She'd made the missions a success and pointed them in a professional direction.

And she'd also killed their leader. If she ever met them again, they'd be completely within their rights, under the loose accords of the villages, to kill her. They might well try.

The part that actually troubled her was that she didn't mind too much. She didn't like the thought; she'd like it a lot better if they all decided that Orochimaru had been a sucking leech of a madman and they were all better off without him! But if the Sound shinobi, many of whom had never lived in Orochimaru's personal base or seen his madness first hand, chose to blame her and seek revenge... well, that was their choice. She'd live with it.

And she could still look back and feel that she'd done a good job both ways: placing herself to kill Orochimaru after getting all the information about Sound that she could, and also doing her professional best to lead and improve the Sound shinobi under her command. She was... proud of them. Proud, even, of the skills they might be about to turn on her.

She was starting to wonder if this was what people really meant when they talked about Intelligence and twiddled a finger knowingly next to their temples.

Sakura took her chair in the incongruously bright, warm debriefing room in the basement of the Intelligence complex. She folded her arms tight over her stomach, and waited for today's first question.

"First of all, Haruno, are you sure you want Hatake Kakashi to be here for today's work?" Miuhara asked her as he pulled up his own chair on the other side of the table. "I know he was your jounin-sensei, but I have to tell you he can be pretty brutal when he's doing Intelligence work."

Sakura managed a small smile. "He could be pretty brutal as a teacher, too. I'm sure." She trusted Kakashi-sensei's judgment, and right now she felt very in need of some extra, trustable judgment. She was starting to doubt her own.

"All right then." Miuhara nodded and Kakashi-sensei propped himself quietly against the soft yellow wall just behind her shoulder and out of her sight. Typical, Sakura thought with irritated affection.

Miuhara was paging through the thick folder of her report, but it was her other debriefer, Hitomi, who asked, "So about Kabuto. You said he was acting for his own purposes all along; do you think he's going to take Sound for his own, now?"

Sakura shook her head, unhesitating. "No. I don't think he has any interest in leading or ruling, himself."

"What is he interested in, then? Research, like Orochimaru?"

Slowly, trying to put months of observations together, Sakura said, "The game. I think... I think that's all he really cares about. I think that's why he really stayed with Orochimaru, because Orochimaru played it too."

"Hmm." Miuhara frowned down at a page. "You said he defended Orochimaru without hesitation, at risk of his life, and yet was working against him the whole time."

"Yes. That's it exactly." Sakura leaned forward, chasing the thought, trying to make sense for herself as well as for them. "I think that was the challenge he set for himself. To do everything Orochimaru wanted of him, to protect him even, and still successfully betray him in the end."

Softly, Hitomi asked, "Like you did? Was that why you felt such a connection with him?"

Sakura flinched. "I..." She was quiet for a long breath, and finally whispered, "Yes."

"Was that any part in your reasoning, when you let him go?" Miuhara asked neutrally.

"No." That answer came to her quickly, surely, and she raised her head again. "No. That was plain calculation. I was running out of time, and if he could take me hostage he'd have a very strong position against Naruto and Sasuke. He offered something we wanted, too, and that tipped the balance."

Miuhara nodded. "Good. Now, you just said that Orochimaru played the game, too. In your report, you emphasized his implication, on dying, that he had never assumed you were loyal until very near the end. Can you expand on that?"

Sakura's arms tightened. "In retrospect, it's very clear," she said a little stiffly. "He probably always assumed I was an agent for Konoha. He... lured me. He showed approval for my apparent self-interest and eventually gave me a technique that is both very strong and does not control me. That seems contradictory, but all during the research process he was offering me bait. Leadership of teams; the respect of the Sound shinobi, especially as he appeared to trust me at his side; approval for every time I pushed back against him and for my planning abilities; my... my name."

"Your name?" Hitomi murmured, eyes sharp over her folded hands.

"He didn't call me by name, for a long time. It was always 'kunoichi'. But when..." she had to swallow, "when I demanded more tests on the last version of the seal, more tests on other people, because I knew it would give me more time to gather intelligence on the bases, then he called me by name."

"And if he thought all along you were an agent of Konoha," Miuhara completed her logic coolly, "it follows that he was seeking to draw you into just that position, where you would be complicit with his atrocities. And he rewarded you for it."

"Yes," Sakura whispered, arms curling tighter. "And it worked."

"How so?" Miuhara asked, perfectly calm. "Do you have any intention of performing that kind of forbidden experiment?"

"Not that," she said roughly. "But I liked it! Even knowing what he was, what he was doing, when he recognized me, I felt..." She ran out of words and clenched her hands, frustrated.

Kakashi stirred against the wall. "You created your cover out of a part of yourself you don't usually show or let run free," he said quietly. "And Orochimaru saw that part and understood it, and showed approval for it." He paused and added, lower, "And that part of you meant it when you swore loyalty to him and to Sound."

"Yes." Sakura was curled in so tightly now she was bent over her knees, hot, furious tears dripping onto the fabric of her pants.

"Do you believe you will betray the Leaf?" Hitomi asked.

"No," Sakura said, rough and tight, but sure of that at least.

"Do you believe you would have stayed with him if he had not continued to seek Uchiha Sasuke's life?" Miuhara asked, gently.

That one froze Sakura for long, tight breaths. "I... in the Net... in the Net, yes," she whispered at last, shaking, eyes fixed on her knees, wide and blind. She covered her face with her hands and shuddered, breath choking in her chest.

Warm, strong hands settled on her shoulders. "And if someone had come to release the Net for you?" Kakashi-sensei asked, matter-of-fact.

Sakura clenched her hands together and pressed them to her chest, to her heart, biting her lip hard. She remembered the way Sasuke and Naruto had taken care of her that first night, the way they still showed up every day, to walk her home from Intelligence or to train with her after dinner. She felt the sureness, down at the bottom of her heart, that had driven her hand through Orochimaru's chest, and finally she whispered, "If someone had released me... if my team had come for me... I would have come back." She looked up at Miuhara and Hitomi, sitting quiet and unjudging at the table, and took a long, trembling breath. "Yes."

Miuhara smiled. "I'm glad. Let's take a break, then. We can continue when you're ready."

Sakura nodded and stood, though she needed Kakashi-sensei's hand under her elbow for a moment to keep from falling over again, and went to wash her face.

Sasuke leaned against the tree across from the front doors of Intelligence, waiting for Sakura. Naruto had walked her home yesterday and he'd been scowling when he came to see Sasuke after. He'd said she looked like someone had dipped her in bleach and wrung her out. Sasuke had asked how Naruto knew anything about bleach, considering the condition of his apartment, and promised to wait for her today.

Whatever was going on with her, he needed to see.

So he waited, nodding silently to the occasional greetings of other shinobi as they emerged or entered. Both he and Naruto were becoming familiar sights, he supposed. Well enough; they were Sakura's team, and the other agents might as well get used to them now.

He was starting to wonder if this was exactly how Kakashi had become so fanatical about teamwork and supporting team members. Had he lost someone, or had someone lost part of themselves, for his sake?

When Sakura finally came out the doors, he straightened up frowning. Naruto was right; she looked washed out and exhausted, and he found himself hurrying to her side to put a hand under her arm. "Hey. Are you all right?" He frowned more darkly at the building she'd just come out of. "What are they doing to you?"

The smile Sakura gave him was a little shaky, but it looked true, and she put a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Sasuke. It's... well, it's not fun, I won't lie, but it's helping me. In the long run. Like training really hard," she added, when he continued frowning.

His brows rose at that. "Training, huh?" He didn't let go, but he did turn and walk quietly beside her.

"Kind of." She walked slowly, slower than he liked to see, and as they started coming into busier streets he glared people out of her way with no compunctions. Sakura barely seemed to notice, and he wasn't sure if that was good or bad. At last she said, softly, "He really messed with my head, you know. By the end. Partly because I was already under a technique to help me think and react... skewed. Like I resented you and Naruto, like we'd never come together as a real team. But also because he really was scarily good at that." She looked up at him, eyes dark. "You know."

He remembered years of solitary rage and desperation, and the few months when that desperation had been fed, tantalized with the promise of fulfillment and rest. And he shuddered. "I know."

"So, it isn't fun to talk about, and have Miuhara-san and Hitomi-san pick apart everything I did and heard and saw. But it helps. It helps me figure out how I really think and feel, so no one will be able to do that to me again. Or, at least, not so easily." Her shoulders straightened and her chin lifted a little at that, more the Sakura he knew.

"Okay. I guess I can see that." He looked down at her as they turned onto her own street. "Can we help?"

Her smile broke out like sunshine. "You already do. I promise."

They stopped at her door and he said, quietly. "You... you did this for me." Trying to find words to express his astonishment and fear and frustration, seeing the price she'd paid, he finally burst out with, "Why?"

Sakura's smile turned bright and sharp as a knife. "Because you're mine," she said, making him blink, and added, softer, "You're ours. That's all."

Theirs. Hers and Naruto's. And because of that, she would do this thing and think almost nothing of it. Sasuke shook his head, helplessly. How was he supposed to make sense out of that? Only family did things like that.

The thought echoed in his head, and he flinched from it.

Sasuke swallowed, staring down at her blindly. He had no family. His family was gone. His whole clan. He had nothing left but the madman who killed them all, and that was why... why everything. But Sakura would do this for him. Naruto, who argued with him by reflex, like breathing, Naruto would, he was certain, say the same. And look at him like he was an idiot for questioning it, into the bargain. They were...

They were his team! He shook his head violently. They were his team, that was all. That was why. Team, like Kakashi-sensei always said. (Family dies. Not family.)

"Sasuke? Hey, Sasuke?" Sakura frowned and poked him in the arm. "Did you skip lunch today or something?"

"No," he muttered, "I... I just..." He swallowed down a rush of queasiness, of almost-fear. There was nothing to be afraid of; they were his team. "Never mind." He hesitated. "Sakura..."

"Hm?" She cocked her head, eyes clear and patient.

Ignoring the sudden stares of the civilians around them, he stepped forward and gathered her up, holding her tightly. "Thank you," he whispered against her ear. "For... everything."

After a startled moment, she hugged him back, just as tight. "You're welcome. Always." She pulled back a little and smiled, softly. "And thank you, too. I don't think you know for how much."

"Maybe I know a little." He let her go, hands sliding down her arms. "So. More talking about it tomorrow?"

She made a face and nodded.

"Okay. We'll wait for you again tomorrow, then." He waited until she was safely inside before taking to the roofs to head back to his own apartment.

Sakura stood in her underwear with her hands on her hips, staring at the clothes tossed over her dresser. It was obvious once you looked at them, piled layer on layer.

She'd worn a completely different outfit every day this week. One day her old red tunic and snug shorts. Another, her actual chuunin uniform. A third her black pants from Sound and her net shirt. Yet another, a dress she barely remembered buying before she left. She'd cycled through one after another, as if her clothes could tell her who she was now, and never even realized it.

Kakashi-sensei was probably laughing.

All right. This wasn't a question she could answer by random dips into her wardrobe. It was something she had to decide. Who did she want to be? And what did that person want to wear today?

Slowly, she sorted and folded her clothes. It was easy to hang up her dresses. That hadn't ever really been her day to day style. After a moment of hesitation she folded away her red tunics and blouses also. They were bright and cheerful and... too young. Too young for how she felt now. Her hands clenched in her black Sound clothes as she folded them and she had to stop and bite her lip and remind herself of the things she'd come to understand about herself in the past week. This was part of her, yes. But only part. Still, her fingers lingered on her black leather vest. It zipped down the front, the same as many of her tunics did. She'd never quite seen that before.

She laid the vest on the bed. Perhaps... perhaps this was something she would keep. A reminder that, even as deep under as she'd gone, she'd still found a tiny connection to keep. She'd still known who she was, at the very heart.

And who she was was a shinobi of the Leaf. She knew more of what that meant, now, and she wouldn't turn away from it. This was her calling. Thoughtfully, she pulled out her Leaf uniform pants and laid them on the bed too, looking at the combination.

That might do.

She dressed, wrapping her calves snugly and pulling on her sandals, and tied her forehead protector. When she took a breath and turned to look in the mirror, she smiled. That looked like someone she knew. Like a self she knew.

There was still something, though.

After a moment's thought, she reached up and tugged at a strand of hair. It was cut at her shoulders these days. It was attractive enough, and easy to care for. But right now she was remembering when it had been even shorter, a time when that had been her mark of determination. Perhaps that would be right to have again, now. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she was just being silly or overthinking this, but... all of them had changed over time, hadn't they? Outward signs of inward changes. Naruto wore black or blue, these days, aside from the ever-orange jacket. Sasuke had slowly left off wearing his high-necked shirts and started wearing wrapped tops, that and a belt that hid more shuriken than the local weapons shop. Naruto had teased him about stealing from Tsunade-sama's closet until Sasuke had rolled his eyes and pointed out a few essential differences in fit across the chest.

Looked at that way, Sakura was actually behind on her changes. She nodded firmly to herself in the mirror and hopped out her window, heading for Ino's house. And just because she was in an impish mood, she snuck up behind Ino silently, in the flower shop, and tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey."

Ino jumped and spun, lifting the scissors she'd just been cutting ribbon with, poised to slash or stab. Sakura grinned. "Tense today?"

"Sakura!" Ino exhaled explosively, lowering the scissors. "Don't do that!" She paused and frowned. "Since when did you get that good at stealth?"

Sakura's mouth twisted. "This last mission. It was... kind of intense."

Ino's eyes darkened and she nodded silently. Ino had entered Intelligence, too; Sakura didn't have to say anything else, and Ino wouldn't press for details. Sakura inhaled, relaxing into her friend's understanding. "So, hey. I want to get a haircut; what's the best place to go to, these days?"

"Still Kitagawa's," Ino said promptly. "Thinking of a new style?"

"Yeah." Sakura smiled a little wryly, running a hand through her hair. "I just want something a little different. Shorter, I think."

"Hmm." Ino eyed her steadily for a moment. "Okay. Let me tell Tou-san, and I'll come along and introduce you."

Sakura smiled more naturally. "Thanks, Ino."

Ino escorted her through the streets, keeping just a hair ahead, passing on gossip with plenty of expansive gestures that kept the other people around them at a little distance. Ino really was pretty perceptive, Sakura reflected; she was a kind and good friend.

Of course, Ino was also an insufferable know-it-all, and, once they were at the hair-dresser's, engaged Mie-san, the senior stylist, in a long discussion over the pros and cons of different styles for Sakura's face shape and hair texture. Sakura shook her head wryly and cut in. "I just want something very short and easy to take care of," she said firmly. "Nothing I have to spend a long time on in the morning. Something that looks good even if I slept in a tree the night before and finger combed it when I got up."

"Ah, a working hairstyle." Mie-san sounded a shade disappointed, but her eyes also gleamed at the prospect of a challenge. "Well, now, let me see."

Sakura suffered herself to be washed and conditioned and turned this way and that while Mie-san muttered over her hair. Eventually the clippers came out, and there was more muttering and snipping here and there, and hand-long hanks of silky pink hair, dark with water, started to fall around the chair. Eventually there was a reassuringly small bit of blow-drying and some reassuringly basic brushing, and Mie-san whisked her towel away. "There! What do you think?"

Sakura stood and looked in the mirror. Her hair was short, a soft mop of flyaway strands with unpredictable waves and flips here and there. "Does it really do that?" she marveled, running a hand through it.

"Oh yes. Your hair has surprising body for such a fine texture, especially if you don't blow-dry it."

Sakura smiled, standing straight. She looked like someone confident. Someone who knew who she was. For the first time in a long time, longer than eight months she thought, her outside felt like it matched her inside.

She really had fallen behind on her changes.

"I like it very much," she said softly. "Thank you."

"It suits you," Ino offered, head cocked. "I wouldn't have thought it, but it does."

A style she had chosen for herself, rather than listening to what other people thought was pretty. Sakura grinned. "Yeah. It does, doesn't it?"

A summons came for her team five days later. It directed them, not to the mission room or even the Hokage's office, but a room on the ground floor of the Hokage Residence. They gathered outside it, glancing questioningly at each other, but before anyone got up the guts to suggest just going in, a vision in long pale robes came sweeping down the hall to meet them.

Sakura stared at the Hokage, and the boys stared with her. She'd never actually seen Tsunade in her formal robes before.

"Tsunade-baachan?" Naruto sounded just as startled as she felt. "Why are you all got up like that? And why did we have to wear our uniforms?"

Tsunade sighed and waved them into the room, kicking her robes out of her way as she walked. "We have a bit of a situation."

The room looked like an extremely formal version of her office, wood paneled and hung with banners, with a huge desk in front of what was nearly a throne, and sumptuous chairs set out before it. Other people were there ahead of them, and Sakura's eyes widened further as she realized that half of Tsunade's council was here—all three of the Elders. But not the ANBU or Jounin Commanders or the clan heads. So this is important, but she doesn't want to give it too much weight. Her eyes narrowed. "Tsunade-sama? Who are you receiving?"

Tsunade settled herself at the throne-desk and smiled tightly at her. "The Daimyou of Sound Country."

Sakura's breath drew in sharply, and she was glad when Naruto and Sasuke closed in at her shoulders. "Why?" Sasuke growled, sounding more like Naruto for a moment than himself.

The Elders stirred and gave the three of them dour looks, but Tsunade's mouth just quirked. "Take it easy, we're not giving Sakura up to them or anything."

Relief flooded through her, but Sakura couldn't help asking, "Why not? If it's required for the village to save face..." The Elders were giving her slightly more approving looks, now.

"Orochimaru was our criminal," Tsunade declared firmly. "Our claim on his life had priority. So." She beckoned. "Sakura, come stand here beside me and look as calm as possible. You two," she pointed to the boys, "stand at the door and make like guards and keep your mouths shut."

Only a few moments after everyone sorted themselves out, a small bell by the wall rang. "Here they come," Tsunade murmured, straightening and folding her hands on the desk before her.

The Daimyou that Shizune escorted in was accompanied by two shinobi of Sound, and Sakura had to bite her lip to keep from twitching when she recognized them. One of them was Tomita, and the look of betrayal he gave her before fixing his gaze firmly on the wall twisted her heart. There was no other way, she wanted to explain. I never wanted to hurt any of you.

But she couldn't say that here and now. Might not ever be able to say it. So she took a breath and fixed her eyes in turn on Naruto and Sasuke. She was deeply grateful to Tsunade-sama's foresight for putting them there, the reminder of why it had needed to be done in the first place.

The Daimyou barely let Tsunade get her greeting out before he interrupted. "Hokage! You have sent shinobi of the Leaf to attack my country and kill the leader of my hidden village! What do you have to say for yourself, in face of this?"

Tsunade raised her brows, and suddenly it wasn't at all hard to believe that she was older than the man in front of her. "I sent my shinobi to execute a criminal of our own village. I regret any inconvenience this may have caused you, but if you harbor such creatures I'm afraid you must be prepared for a certain amount of inconvenience." As the Daimyou drew breath to respond, she held out a hand to Shizune, who placed a folder in it. "For example," Tsunade cut over his first syllable, "in searching Orochimaru's bases for any of our citizens he may have taken, we discovered quite a few of your citizens. Some we released before they could be harmed, but some, I regret to say, had already fallen prey to Orochimaru's experiments." She laid out three large, glossy photos on her desk and pushed them across to the Daimyou with delicate fingertips, as if she didn't want to touch them too much. Sakura could guess what was in them, and didn't blame her.

The Daimyou, after one look, turned pale and pressed his sleeve over his mouth.

"Perhaps," Tsunade said softly, "you were not entirely aware of Orochimaru's propensities for this kind of thing."

"I... no, I never..." the Daimyou stammered, horrified eyes locked on the images. "Those were really...?"

"Considering that he did not limit himself to missing-nin but captured shinobi in good standing from other villages, as well," Tsunade noted coolly, "I believe you are fortunate that we got there first, and with a tightly targeted assassination rather than a general attack that might have decimated your village as a whole."

The Daimyou swallowed and rallied a bit. "Tightly targeted!" He pointed at Sakura, "That woman had her fingers in just about every Sound mission for half a year!"

Sakura felt she had the rhythm of this down by now. She tightened her clasped hands behind her and ventured to answer for herself. "My only target was Orochimaru, my lord. The other work I did, I did to the best of my ability and in good faith." She cocked her head, actually starting to enjoy this. "Are you displeased that the capital's mayor is no longer conspiring with the capital's criminals? Or that the lord of Kouzen is no longer—"

"Enough, enough," he cut her off hastily. Sakura inclined her head and continued to look politely inquiring. Beside her, Tsunade coughed into her fist, clearly fighting laughter.

The Daimyou harumphed and glowered. But after a few moments, the glare faded and he gave Sakura a more thoughtful look. "So," he said slowly. "You say that you don't wish to damage my country, or destabilize it. Wise of you, considering the border we share with Fire. But the fact remains, my hidden village is now missing a leader."

"We do regret that necessity," Tsunade-sama allowed, hands folded immovably again.

The Daimyou smiled. "Then you should have no objections to making a good-will gesture that will fix the problem." He pointed to Sakura again. "Give me her, to be the new Master of Hidden Sound."

Stunned silence held the room for a breath and Sakura had to bite her lip again to keep from squeaking with shock.

"An interesting proposal," Tsunade said at last, slowly. "I take it you were, in fact, satisfied with Sakura's work? Aside from her mission of execution, of course?"

The Daimyou flicked his fingers at the photos with distaste. "Even that would appear to have been in the country's interest."

Tsunade looked up at Sakura and said quietly, "I won't make it an order. This is too heavy a job for anyone but a volunteer; I should know. But if you wish to accept it, then you may."

A dozen thoughts spun through Sakura's mind: her pleasure at the respect of the Sound-nin, the betrayal in Tomita's eyes, the utter mess that the village and bases must be now, the potential for an alliance that would strengthen Leaf, the fact that she would have to stop thinking like that and shift her allegiance...

Her eyes fell on Naruto and Sasuke, and the spinning stopped.

She took a breath and met the Daimyou's gaze. "I'm sorry, my lord. I don't believe I could serve Sound with my whole heart." Logic, lagging behind today, finally kicked in and she added, "I'm not at all sure it would serve you best to have two Masters in a row come from the Fire Country, either. It would set a bad precedent, and I fear the shinobi of Sound would always have to doubt my true allegiance. Especially after their experiences with Orochimaru." She lifted one hand, palm up. "May I suggest, instead, appointing Naridasu Katsuhito? He is the most professional of Sound's jounin, and I believe he would do well for the village." He was certainly the one who had seemed to be hiding the most distaste for Orochimaru's 'research'. Since the Daimyou was looking disgruntled, she offered, "If you do wish to permit an alliance between Sound and Leaf, I would be entirely glad to aid in training your chuunin and genin further. I'm sure any of our trainers would be. That was..." she couldn't help glancing at Tomita, "that was my pleasure."

The Daimyou snorted, but the corner of his mouth quirked up. "You bargain well, girl, I'll say that. Very well. I'll consider Naridasu, and I'll hold Leaf to that offer of aid." If he noticed Tomita stirring beside him, he ignored it in favor of fixing Tsunade-sama with a stern look. "Next time you have evidence that one of my people is engaged in criminal activity against my own country, bring it to me before you start mounting covert operations across my border."

"If it is at all possible, of course," Tsunade-sama murmured. Which was not, Sakura noted, a yes. From the way the Daimyou harumphed some more, she thought he'd noticed that too.

"Ninja!" He stood, shaking his traveling robes into order, and swept out without another word.

Sakura let her breath out as the door closed behind him and his attendants, and leaned on the edge of the desk. Her knees were shaking.

"You handled that very well," Tsunade told her, clasping her shoulder for a moment. "Get your breath back and take your boys off before they both glare holes in me for even considering sending you away."

Sakura laughed a little. "Yes, Tsunade-sama." Another breath and she walked steadily enough across the room to where Sasuke and Naruto were indeed glaring a bit. "Hey, cut that out. I wouldn't leave Konoha." She smiled, and tugged on their sleeves. "I wouldn't leave my team."

"You'd better not." Naruto was nearly pouting at her. Sasuke just hustled them both through the door and down the hall, as if he were afraid the Hokage would change her mind.

"I won't, I won't, I promise," Sakura laughed for real, light-hearted. She could never leave this. Never.

She rocked to a stop as they emerged from the building, though. Tomita was waiting for her, leaning in the shadows of the great doors. "Tomita," she said softly.

"Did you really mean it?" he asked, not looking up from his crossed arms. "That you liked the work you did with us?"

Sakura took a slow breath, remembering the things she'd found and spoken during her debriefing last week, feeling the silent support of Naruto and Sasuke close beside her. "I meant it. Orochimaru was a menace, to my people and yours both, but Sound itself, the village and not his headquarters... you're good shinobi. If I really had been unaffiliated, I'd have been glad to stay." It was far more tangled than that, but those were the only parts she was going to explain to an outsider, even a maybe-ally. There was one more thing, though, she could give him. "I took that mission because Orochimaru threatened what was precious to me. If I had stayed," she said quietly, out of the surety in her heart, "I would have killed him for Sound's sake, in the end."

Finally, he looked up at her, and the earlier betrayal had become only the shadows in any shinobi's eyes. "I believe you." He straightened up and turned to go, and hesitated. Finally, with a quick breath, he spun back to face her and saluted her, fist to his heart, sharp and precise as he had that day on the border. "For that truth." And then he was gone in a swirl of smoke.

And Sakura turned and reached out blindly for her teammates, blinking back the wetness in her eyes as their arms wrapped around her.

"Hey, it doesn't matter what another village thinks about you, right?" Naruto asked, anxiously. "I mean, since you know we care about you."

"I'm just glad," she said, husky. "I know it was the right thing to do. I know I did well for them whenever I could. I just... it's good to know he believes me."

"You have an end to it, now," Sasuke said, quietly.

"Yes." Sakura looked up, feeling the words match the shape of the world around her. "Yes, that's it. An end. Not stopping, but... an end."

Sasuke nodded, silent.

"Hey." Naruto pulled Sasuke tighter against them. "Quit worrying. We'll get an end for you, too."

Sasuke looked aside at that, color rising just a shade on his cheekbones. Sakura and Naruto smiled at each other, pleased and complicit. "So, hey." She nudged them both. "I think we deserve a treat. How about Dangoya for tea?"

Naruto perked up. "And then we can do Ichiraku Ramen for dinner!"

"This," Sakura said trenchantly, "is why my mother has hysterics every time I talk about moving out; because she's afraid I'll start eating like you."

"Your mother," Sasuke observed with cutting accuracy, "is afraid you'll live like any other shinobi and not bother getting married, and then she won't get to orchestrate a grand wedding reception."

"Yeah," Sakura sighed. "That too. Okay, let's do ramen, so she can worry about that instead."

Not stopping, she thought as they made their way down the steps, never stopping. But finding the ends to their life threads. That was a good way to live.

The three of them could do that, together.

A week and a bit after their visit from the Sound Daimyou Tsunade sat at her regular, human-sized desk and folded her hands against her mouth, frowning into the air. "Another one."

"Nii, who holds the Two-tails. The more stable of Cloud's two hosts," Asuma confirmed. "It's all over Cloud; the whole village was in an uproar when we got there. For a while I wasn't sure they'd let us leave again, diplomatic mission or not."

"What does Akatsuki think they're doing?" she demanded, aggravated, raking a hand through her hair. "They've been mercenaries for two generations! And after this they'll never get another job from any of the great villages!"

"Could they be trying to become a village themselves?" Nara Shikaku suggested from where he leaned a hip against her windowsill. "Gain enough power to settle somewhere and hold it against their enemies?"

"That's looking like all of us, at this rate," Asuma noted dryly, teeth clicking on his senbon.

"If they have all of the tailed beasts under some form of control, they might yet stand against us all," Shikaku murmured.

Silence followed that extremely unwelcome thought.

"All of them." Tsunade tried to imagine it. "How could they possibly control all of them, though? Even if Itachi can control one host, I can't imagine any form of the Sharingan that would allow him to control more than one. Maybe they just want us not to have them."

Asuma glanced at Shikaku. "Do we have any agents in Akatsuki at all?"

"Not for about ten years, now, according to Morino and the ANBU Commander." Shikaku didn't look happy. "That was just about the time Itachi joined them; he'd have known who the agents were."

"He having been ANBU. Of course." Tsunade sighed. "We'll try again. I imagine Cloud and Rock will be too. Hopefully one of us will get someone in and find out what the hell Akatsuki thinks they're doing."

Before they found out the hard way, she hoped.

"All right, then." She rolled up onto her feet, and beckoned Shikaku after her. "Thanks, Asuma. I'm glad to know about this before this month's meeting."

She strode down the halls of the administrative building, turning over one possibility after another in her thoughts, and none of them made any kind of sense. Akatsuki couldn't possibly have the hosts they'd taken so far under control; they must have killed them and be hoping to do whatever it was they were doing before the beasts could revive. She looked up as Shizune fell in beside her, handing over a folder, and smiled a little; this was a much more cheerful thing to think about. "You got it all in order?"

Shizune nodded brisk confirmation. "All three of them have fulfilled the usual requirements. This should be easy."

"Mm." In Tsunade's experience so far, nothing was ever easy with her Council. But it should be simple anyway.

Shikaku stepped ahead of them to get the door to the meeting room where the monthly Council met and Tsunade took a breath and swept through, head high. A fast glance around the green-draped room showed the ANBU Commander and the three Elders all present, and she nodded to them. "Let's get started, ladies and gentlemen."

She listened with half an ear as Shizune reported on the arrangements for this season's chuunin exam in Hidden Valley, and Shikaku listed the jounin who had volunteered for the good-will mission to Sound. It was a shame they couldn't really send Sakura herself back, but her teammates would never let her go without them and Tsunade had bigger fish to fry with those three, right now.

"We should definitely send Yamanaka Inoichi," Utatane said, folding her thin fingers on the solid, old table. "He has experience in the Interrogation unit. He'll be able to find out how much threat Sound still is to us."

"Inoichi is certainly just the person to lead the mission," Tsunade agreed, knowing there was an edge in her voice and unable to help it. Unsure she even wanted to help it. "He has an even temper and a diplomat's manners, which is just what a good-will mission needs."

Mitokado snorted, and Tsuna reminded herself yet again that she couldn't strangle her own first councilors just because they were a couple of war-crazy old goats. Shame, that. "If calm is what you want on that mission, you should send Aburame Shibi too," the old man suggested, sarcasm clanging in every word.

Tsunade bared her teeth at him. "An excellent suggestion. His self-possession will be very valuable, and I'm sure a little quiet would be appreciated by everyone." Shizune coughed meaningfully behind her and Tsunade made herself sit back. She knew she shouldn't let these two get to her, but it had been a very long time indeed since anyone dared treat her like some raw graduate.

Danzou stirred. "If two jounin are going on this mission, that will stretch the village a little thin. Especially considering the recent Akatsuki incursions among the great nations."

Tsunade picked up the folder she'd dropped on the table, wondering one more time exactly what contacts Danzou still had among Intelligence that he always knew about the classified reports. "A very good point. Fortunately, we have three chuunin who have been nominated for promotion this quarter." She slid the topsheets across the table to the Elders and the ANBU Commander and waited.

"Completely unacceptable!" Mitokado exclaimed.

"All three of them have been properly nominated by jounin who were not their field-teacher," Shikaku pointed out a bit dryly. "All three of them have displayed mastery of high level techniques in at least two elements and completed the minimum number of B-rank and above missions."

"Haruno-kun is considered, by all those who know of her recent mission, to have displayed unusually good judgment under high-stress conditions," the ANBU Commander added quietly, hands tented under his cat mask.

"Haruno, certainly, but you can't possibly promote Uzumaki." Mitokado dropped the topsheet with an air of finality. "The kind of missions a jounin goes on are far too great a risk." He frowned and added, "And he's only displayed mastery of one element, hasn't he?"

"Wind, yes." Tsunade had her hands folded so tight her knuckles were white. "And yang chakra. The Nine-tails' chakra, to be precise."

"That cannot possibly count toward the promotion requirements," Mitokado nearly sputtered.

"What's your problem with Naruto?" Tsunade asked bluntly. "You certainly wouldn't try to tell me that my yin mastery doesn't count." Not if the old goat wanted to live to see sundown, anyway.

"He's the village's Sacrifice! His training with you has kept him in the village, and that's as it should be. The idea of sending him out like any other jounin is preposterous."

And if he were formally promoted, Tsunade reflected grimly, there would be a lot of pressure to do just that. "Sacrifice" or not. Which was the idea. "So you want me to withhold the rank that he's earned from him? Set him apart even more? Keep alienating him from the village we all hope he'll protect?"

"Tsunade," Utatane broke in. "It's not just that. In time, Uzumaki may demonstrate the ability to take on jounin level missions, but right now you can't deny that he's still very immature."

"And how will he gain maturity without experience?" Tsunade argued.

"Vital as this question is," Danzou murmured from where he'd been sitting quiet and still, "I believe the nomination of Uchiha Sasuke is even more problematic. An immature shinobi may gain experience, if you are willing to take such a risk, but will an unstable one become any more stable?"

"Both his teachers attest that Sasuke has indeed become more stable over the last two years," Shikaku answered calmly before Tsunade could get her teeth unlocked to tell Danzou exactly what she thought of his argument.

"Stable enough, though?" Danzou shook his head as if sadly. "I have no objection to Haruno, of course, but Uzumaki and Uchiha... no. They need more time. Surely there's no need to rush them into promotion and possibly unsettle their development as shinobi."

Both Mitokado and Utatane settled back and nodded firmly in agreement, and Tsunade breathed deeply to keep from screaming with frustration. Just as any jounin could nominate a chuunin for promotion, enough of the Council could block the nomination. With all three of her Elders standing firm, they were deadlocked and she couldn't very well call in the noble clans on a promotion question; that would open the door to all sorts of accusations of favoritism and factionalism. "Very well," she said through her teeth. "Shikaku. Inform Haruno of her promotion. Shizune, clear some time in my schedule tomorrow; Naruto and Sasuke deserve an explanation. And an assurance that their Hokage does not doubt them."

And on that note, the meeting broke up. Tsunade went to get some stomach soothing tea from Shizune's stock and wondered if it would be too extremely disrespectful to pray at the Senju's Touki shrine for her Elders to die peacefully in their sleep, someday very soon.

The next day, though, it wasn't just Naruto and Sasuke who came to her office at the appointed hour. Sakura was with them too. In fact, she was the one who actually marched up to Tsunade's desk while Sasuke and Naruto waited by the door. She threw her promotion letter down and crossed her arms.

"Is it true that Naruto and Sasuke were supposed to be promoted and were blocked?" she demanded, nearly glowering.

Tsunade pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair. Apparently Danzou wasn't the only one who could take advantage of the Intelligence grapevine. "I'm afraid so," she admitted. "I have every faith in them, as do the field commanders, but a majority of the council has to approve jounin promotions."

Sakura's eyes narrowed and Tsunade would be willing to bet the girl had understood exactly who was left in opposition to her partners, if the Hokage and the field commanders had no qualms. More significantly, given Tsunade's win/loss record, she thought Shizune would be willing to bet, too. "I see. Well." She snapped her hands together in the Tiger and spat pointedly at the letter, which went up in flames. "You can tell them that they can take my promotion, fold it in corners, and stick it up their asses! I'll advance with my team or not at all!" With that she whirled and strode out of the room leaving a small pile of char on top of Tsunade's desk. Naruto, grinning all over his face, swaggered out on her heels. Sasuke paused to give Tsunade a brief bow and a definite smirk before following.

When Shizune came in five minutes later, Tsunade was still laughing. "Tsunade-sama?" she asked, cautiously.

Tsunade wiped her eyes as she caught her breath again. "That girl is going to be a first councilor herself one day, you know she will." She dissolved in chuckles again. "Naruto will change Konoha when he's Hokage, all right! I don't see how he could help it with those two beside him!"

A/N: I'm positing some differences in vocabulary in how people refer to the tailed beast hosts, here. I've translated jinchuuriki as "Sacrifice". But whenever someone refers to them as "hosts", that's yadonushi, which is a considerably less dire and freighted word. I really think that friends and (sane) family would be more likely to use something like that than jinchuuriki.

As for the Council I'm constructing here, we don't even meet Danzou until part two, but he sits with the group deciding who gets to be the new Hokage; clearly Kishimoto decided he was going to be an important part of the village's governance. This begs the question of why we never saw anyone but Utatane and Mitokado taking part in governance decisions in the first half, and why we keep seeing far larger groups advising the other Kage. To reconcile all this, I invented the office of "first councilors" to serve as the Hokage's immediate advisers and widened the Hokage's Council to include the heads of the noble clans and the field commanders. I posit that there's actually a four-way balance of power (Hokage, Elders, clan heads, field commanders) and that what counts as a majority varies depending on how the "sides" are divided up on any given issue.

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Ten

In which Gaara is taken by Akatsuki and Kakashi's and Gai's teams are sent to aid Hidden Sand to get him back. Drama, Action, Fluff, I-4

Sasuke dangled his legs over the weathered edge of the Nara house's engawa and listened to the soft tick of stones as Sakura and Shikamaru played a game of go an arm's length away. It was the first time both teams had been home at once for a few months, and everyone was enjoying a bit of a break.

"Hey, that almost singed my hair you jerk!"

The less quiet sounds of Naruto and Ino sparring broke through the brown and gold shadows among the trees of the back garden. Everyone had their own definition of "taking a break".

"It just doesn't make sense, you know," Sakura said, out of the blue, frowning down at the board. "There's been another attack on a host. This makes both of Rock's hosts taken!"

"Sakura," Ino said warningly, touching down on the grass. "That's information from the files; even if it isn't really confidential, you shouldn't be sharing it outside Intelligence."

Sakura flapped an impatient hand. "We're the yearmates of our village's host. If it comes down to guarding Naruto from Akatsuki, we'll most likely be the inner line of defense. If anyone needs to know this, we do." She frowned. "Besides... I don't think it's a coincidence that our year and the one before have so many shinobi who are this strong this young."

Shikamaru looked up from contemplating his next move, eyes sharp. "What do you mean?"

Sakura chewed her lip. "Look, I know this sounds like superstition, but... we're the ones who spent the longest time closest to Naruto. I don't have very solid evidence yet, but I think that had an effect."

"So I'm, like, an amplifier?" Naruto asked, flickering down from the trees to the grass after Ino. "Cool."

"You're an annoyance," Sasuke corrected without sitting up. "I suppose that does tend to goad a person forward, yes."

"Jerk." Naruto pounced on him and they wrestled for a moment before Sasuke got a foot behind Naruto's knee and flipped them over, pinning him down on the satin smooth engawa with a little smirk of triumph; Naruto was a lot better at hand-to-hand these days, and pinning him was getting to be an accomplishment. Sakura was probably rolling her eyes over them, but she didn't bother to move as they rolled around behind her.

"No, you have a point just from the numbers," Shikamaru said, mouth quirking as he watched them. "I mean, normally it takes five to ten years to pass to chuunin, and look at us. One to three years, for our entire cohort." He laid a stone down and Sakura made an annoyed sound.

"All right, if we're breaking security, let's do it right." Ino came to sit on the stone step beside Chouji and steal one of his chips, which he actually let her do. Sasuke guessed their team really was close with each other. "So, the Akatsuki attacks are continuing. Rock is down both their hosts, and Cloud is down to one. And we've had one probe years ago." She poked Sakura in the knee. "I've been out on missions, not snooping in the secure files. Who else has gotten hit?"

"I think Mist still has both of their hosts," Sakura murmured in a distant tone, eyes fixed on the board though Sasuke wouldn't give any odds she was actually seeing it. "I don't know for sure about the Waterfall, though."

"Given the timing involved in the attacks, I suspect they've already got that one," Shikamaru murmured, eyes dark and thoughtful. "The Mist might have lost one by now, too."

Sasuke propped himself up over Naruto on an elbow, frowning. "You think this really is a systematic thing. Kidnapping the hosts." The hand that had been holding Naruto's elbow away from his ribs fell to his chest and spread there firmly. No one was taking Naruto away. Especially not Itachi. Not again, Sasuke wouldn't let him.

Chouji looked up at Shikamaru, popping another chip into his mouth. "So, what do we do?"

"We keep ours safe," Sakura said, setting down a white stone more firmly than necessary.

"That too," Shikamaru agreed. "If we can, it would be ideal to share information with the other villages who have hosts, see if we can find a pattern in the attacks."

Sakura and Ino looked at each other. "Not Morino-san," Ino said. "He hates the idea of sharing information with other villages. And Hoshiashige-san doesn't listen to me as well as Miuhara listens to you."

"Mm. Actually, Kakashi-sensei might be our best bet," Sakura suggested. "He's not formally part of the Intelligence division, but he was, and everyone still knows him. And he has the Hokage's ear."

"We'll start there, then," Shikamaru said, laying down another stone. "And," he smiled, tight, "we'll keep ours safe."

Naruto was looking around at them all, a little flushed and wide-eyed. "Idiot," Sasuke told him, more gently than usual, and sat up to look over Sakura's shoulder at the game. He left his hand on Naruto's chest, though.

Kakashi stood in front of the Hokage's desk, just as bland as could be, waiting attentively for any questions she might have about his report.

"Hm." She was smiling, small and tight, as she set down the folder and turned her chair to face her windows, looking out through the hazy blue morning over the roofs of the village. "You know, Kakashi," she murmured in a whimsical tone, "the more I see of Naruto's generation the more I think... the Elders don't know what the hell they're going to face in just a few more years."

"I couldn't agree more." And it was a thought that kept Kakashi warm at nights, he had to admit, especially as applied to Danzou. "But they don't have the rank to support you against the Elders right now."

"Despite having reached exactly the right conclusion." She sighed and tipped her chair back. "We're going to have to do this more slowly than any of us would like. Get back to them, Kakashi. Let them know they're right; encourage them to talk this up to their own superiors. The more people in favor of a little international cooperation, the more freedom I'll have to act." She smiled slowly. "Ask them to try to take jobs close to home for a while. If any international missions or delegations open up, I think it will be some of them that I want to send. And the old goats can complain after the fact." She gave cocked a brow at him. "Brush up on your diplomacy, too. I expect it will be you I send them with."

Kakashi winced at the thought and gave her his very best hangdog look, to no avail. She just snorted. "Get used to it, Kakashi. It's getting to be about time you started picking up more diplomatic and administrative jobs. Just be glad I'm not making Shikaku name you his official successor as Jounin Commander. Yet."

Kakashi held up his hands in hasty surrender. "Missions it is! Missions are fine!"

She settled back in her chair, satisfied. "Good." Her smugness still had an alarming tinge of speculation, though, and she murmured, "Actually, you know, it might just be you I tap for—"

"I'll just go have my dress clothes cleaned and pressed, then, shall I?" Kakashi cut in, sidling toward the door before she could come up with any more horrifyingly responsible jobs to threaten him with.

Tsunade laughed. "You do that." Her amusement drained away, though, as he got a hand on the knob, and she added quietly. "Be ready, Kakashi. If I do have to take you off field work for a foreign mission, it will probably be urgent."

Sasuke bounded through the tall trees and deep gorges of the eastern Fire Country and wished he had enough breath to swear properly. But even moving at their top speed, Naruto was outdistancing the rest of them.

"Naruto!" Kakashi called the next breath, "Stay in closer."

There was no sign at all that Naruto had heard him—and an edge of visible red was flickering around him. Sasuke exchanged a tense look with Sakura. When Tsunade had told them and Gai's team that the Kazekage had been kidnapped and they were going to assist, a flash of feral rage had slitted Naruto's eyes, but he'd seemed to come back after just a second.

Maybe he just didn't want to listen, now, but this wasn't a good sign.

Sakura's mouth tightened and she nodded sharply toward Naruto. Sasuke nodded back and gathered himself. One breath, a moment of solid footing, and he flickered forward on a burst of chakra-speed to land in front of Naruto. Right in front. Despite Sasuke's preparation for it Naruto was still moving too fast, and they went down hard against the branch under them. Only Sakura's fast grab at Naruto's shoulders as she came up behind them kept them both from falling.

"Cut that out!" Sasuke barked at him, a bit winded. "You can't get too far out front of us!"

"Gaara," Naruto started, and though his eyes weren't slitted they weren't as focused as Sasuke liked.

"You want to give them two for the price of one?" Kakashi asked mildly, landing beside them.

"But I have to..."

Sasuke gave up on logic, as he so often had to around Naruto, and just shook him. "Shut up and listen to me," he said, low and deadly. "I am not letting you run yourself right into an ambush. Understand? Not by those bastards and not because you were too unbelievably bullheaded to Stay. With. Your team!" Three more hard shakes punctuated that, and Naruto finally blinked at Sasuke like he knew who was in front of him.

"Oh," he finally said, and Sasuke restrained himself with difficulty from banging his head on Naruto's shoulder a few times. It was as good as a brick wall. Or maybe that should be Naruto's head.

"That's the true spirit of youthful teamwork!" Gai boomed above them, and Sasuke groaned.

"Now see what you've done?" he muttered. He took Sakura's hand up and hauled Naruto with him. "Get a hold of yourself, or we'll do it for you."

Naruto smiled at that, like he knew perfectly well it was a promise and not a threat. "Yeah, okay." As they started out again, in better order this time, he added, "Thanks."

Sasuke just snorted, not really pleased to have had to show the inner working of their team to other people like that, even people from their own village. Still, better to work it out now than after they were in Sand, he supposed.

A few more strides and Neji fell in beside him. "The demon chakra has subsided again," he said quietly. "That was well done. Will you and Sakura be able to pull him out of it when we're in battle, though?"

"We will do," Sasuke said precisely, "whatever it takes."

Neji nodded. "Let us know if we can help." At Sasuke's raised brow, he smiled faintly, still looking straight ahead through the tossing green of their tree path. "Naruto carries this burden for all of us. It's only fitting that we all assist as we can." After another leap, he added, "Hinata-sama would wish it."

Sasuke nodded acceptance of that, silently. Whatever it took.

They were waved through casually at the edge of River Country and, half a weary day later, with frantic haste at the borders of the Wind Country. They ran on until Kakashi decreed a stop, well after dark. Naruto, predictably, protested, and Lee was right behind him.

"We won't be any help if we're exhausted when we get there," Sakura told them, pushing Naruto firmly down onto the sand of the hollow Kakashi had chosen to camp in and putting a water bottle in his hand. Tenten gave her a grateful look as Lee wilted at Sakura's scolding, and chivvied her partner out of his pack.

They weren't going to be much help if Naruto didn't recover his scattered brains, either, Sasuke reflected. He was their medic, after all, and a battle with Akatsuki promised injuries, to say nothing of what they might find at Sand in the wake of a raid. After contemplating this fact for a few bites of his pressed fruit bar, he sighed and scooted over to sit back to back with Naruto, leaning against him. "Hey."

Naruto made the kind of sound a person makes when their mouth is way too full and Sasuke rolled his eyes. "So, if Akatsuki has Gaara, what are we going to do?"

"Get him back," Naruto growled fiercely.

"I was hoping for a little more detail than that," Sasuke said dryly. "It isn't fair to make Sakura do all the work. For example, if Gaara is hurt, you might need to stay with him while we chase Akatsuki, you know."

Naruto's back relaxed against his a little, at the reminder that he could probably do something about any injuries the Kazekage might have picked up. "So. I guess I shouldn't just run in and beat up anyone with red clouds on their coat, is what you're saying?"

"Well," Sasuke allowed, "at least not until we've got Gaara safe and know they aren't going to do anything to you."

Naruto was quiet for a moment. "So. You think Itachi will be with them?"

It was Sasuke's turn to tense, and Naruto leaned back against him more firmly. "He wasn't reported," Sasuke said tightly, "but he's the one I'm worried about taking you." He breathed through the twist of memory and sickness and managed a snort. "Normal top rank criminals, I'm not as concerned over."

"Heheh." He could hear the smug grin in Naruto's chortle and stifled a smile of his own. No need to encourage him. "Hey, don't worry." Naruto nudged him with an elbow. "I won't let him get me. And this time you'll kick his ass."

"This time," Kakashi said out of the dusk, voice hard, "you'll run faster unless you have a lot more backup."

That was voice of Sasuke's commander, more than his teacher—the same voice Kakashi had used that first time, after the bad fight with Naruto. That was the voice that understood what was at stake, and had never pretended Sasuke would be content with anything less than Itachi's blood in the end. And that was why, as Naruto was inhaling to protest, Sasuke said quietly, "Yes, Kakashi-sensei."

Naruto twisted around to stare over his shoulder at Sasuke, eyes a little wide. "Are you okay?" He put a worried hand on Sasuke's forehead, which Sasuke batted aside with an exasperated glare.

"He's being at least temporarily sensible," Kakashi-sensei said dryly. "Now if only I can get you to do the same at some point I will have reached the pinnacle of my teaching career." Raising his voice a little he added, "Everyone get some sleep. I have first watch."

Ignoring Gai-sensei's immediate insistence that they play jan-ken-pon for it, Sasuke tugged the blanket out of his pack and lay down. Now that they weren't moving, the night was turning very cold; he remembered that from the chuunin exam.

He remembered his solution for it, too, and his mouth quirked, invisibly in the dark, as he ran his hands through the seals for Inner Fire. Almost immediately, as he'd half expected, he had a teammate snuggled up on either side. "I showed you how to do this yourself," he whispered, nudging Sakura, making her squeak and swat at his hand. "And you don't need it," he added to Naruto.

"You do it better," she whispered back.

"Yeah, and you're warmer," Naruto added from the other side. Sasuke rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine, whatever. Just don't toss around like you usually do." That was mostly to Naruto's address, though both he and Naruto had wound up with black eyes when Sakura had one of her nightmares.

Firmly ignoring Tenten's giggling, drifting across the hollow, he closed his eyes and pursued sleep.

It didn't take long to get to Hidden Sand the next day, and it was Temari who met them at the wall. Her face was tight and there were dark smudges under her eyes. "There were at least two from Akatsuki," she said as she led them through stunned silent streets to the hospital. "We think there may have been more than we saw, though. They headed over the north wall when they left, we know that, but none of the guards saw a thing. One or two agents among us I could believe, but a dozen?"

"Genjutsu, do you think?" Neji asked quietly.

"An incredibly strong one, if so." Temari bit her lip as they hurried up stairs and through the curving hospital halls. "I can't think what else it might have been, though."

"Itachi," Sasuke said, low, rage and fear surging out of his control for a breath to wind his nerves another twist tighter.

"We know that Uchiha Itachi is part of Akatsuki," Kakashi supplied at Temari's questioning look. "And he's achieved levels of genjutsu control I'd never heard of before."

"At least three then. Explosives, illusions, and poison." Temari's jaw set hard. "Kankurou encountered the poisoner." She pushed open the door of a private room, bright from the skylights and painted a soft, comforting apricot like the bands Sasuke had seen in some of the rock formations on the way here. It didn't make it any less a hospital room.

Sasuke had never liked hospitals. The first time he'd found himself in one was after his clan was killed, and later visits hadn't done much to break a bad first impression. The harsh, hoarse gasps of the man on the hospital bed yanked at his nerves; there was pain here, and he couldn't do a thing about it.

He wasn't at all surprised when Naruto pushed forward. "Poison?"

The very old woman by the bed said without turning, "More than one. Sasori's poisons are tricky, too. We're still trying to isolate them, and none of the general anti—" she looked over her shoulder and broke off, eyes widening. "White Fang!"

Sasuke was caught just as flat-footed as everyone else when she dove for Kakashi with a shriek of rage, but he slapped Naruto's shoulder as Naruto started to wheel back; whatever was going on, he and Sakura were here. Naruto should concentrate on what only he could do.

By the time they'd both spun back to their right jobs, Naruto to the bed and Sasuke to their commander, it was already over. Sakura was spinning away from the kick that checked the old woman in midair, and an equally old man had come forward to stop the woman. Gai's team spilled into the room after Kakashi, and once it became clear that it was Kakashi's father the old woman had a grudge against everyone seemed to relax again.

"Okay," Naruto said briskly, from the bed, having ignored the whole thing, "His liver already knows what this shit is, I'll start there and burn it out."

"We already tried a direct flush," one of the other medics started, and Naruto grinned.

"Yeah, but you aren't me."

Sasuke's mouth twitched. He'd always kind of figured that Naruto's bedside manner forced people to get better just so they could avoid drowning in the overflowing self-confidence.

The old woman's brows lifted as Naruto set his hands on Kankurou's stomach and his chakra spilled into the visible range. "Who is this?"

"Uzumaki Naruto," Kakashi provided. "The Hokage's apprentice in healing, of late."

The woman paused. "She sent her own apprentice?" she murmured, almost to herself.

"Tsunade-sama takes our treaty obligations seriously," Kakashi answered, sober.

Sasuke listened with half an ear, keeping an eye on Naruto, who was starting to sweat. "Crap," Naruto finally muttered, glaring at thin air. "I've got it out of his blood, but it's... damn it..."

"Is it in his bones already?" the old woman asked sharply, coming to hover beside him.

"No, not that. It's... it's a reservoir, yeah, but not the bones, it's..." Naruto narrowed his eyes, "I think it's poisoned his chakra."

The woman hissed through her teeth. "Sasori! He did create that one after all." She bowed her head, hands locked tight. "Then there's nothing we can do."

Naruto growled. "There is! I just can't burn or break it like the stuff in his blood! If I could just find a way out for it..." Blue eyes widened and his head jerked up. "Neji!"

Neji stepped forward, frowning. "What?"

Naruto grinned at him, and it was the grin he got in the middle of a fight when he'd figured out how to win. Sasuke smirked and settled back against the wall as the tightness in his gut eased.

"Open his tenketsu!" Naruto told Neji. "All of them, all the way! You can do that, right?"

Neji's eyes widened. "But...!" He took a breath. "Naruto, if I do that, his chakra will all drain away. He'll die."

"Not while I'm adding more. Chakra transfers were the first thing I learned to do. And I'll tell you when to close them again." Only Naruto, Sasuke reflected, could make a suggestion this crazy sound perfectly reasonable. Neji had the slightly disbelieving expression of any normal person hearing it; fortunately, it wasn't the first time, for him and Naruto.

"He needs to be standing upright so I can reach all sixty-four key points," he said slowly. "Naruto, you'd better be right about this."

"I am." Naruto's eyes were fixed back on his patient, and his confidence this time was quiet and sure.

"All right."

The other medics got Kankurou upright and Neji set his feet, preparing, and engaged his Byakugan. One breath. Another. And then there was a whirl of strikes, blindingly fast, absolutely precise, and Neji was in front of Kankurou again, only to leap back. "Naruto!"

"Got it!" Naruto blazed up with the force of chakra he was concentrating, hands pressed to Kankurou's chest. Another breath, and Neji hissed, still holding the Byakugan.

"It's moving..."

Sasuke thought everyone in the room might be holding their breaths, hanging on Neji's terse reports of Kankurou's chakra levels as Naruto stood like stone in front of him, scowling in concentration.

Sasuke was keeping an eye on Naruto's chakra levels, frowning at the rapid drain. But Naruto wasn't turning muddy or jagged, so he kept his mouth shut. And kept watching. He'd been party to more than one of Tsunade's lectures to Naruto about having a spotter when he tried a new technique, and he'd seen Naruto get so concentrated on his work Shizune had to knock him out to stop him.

"Almost," Naruto panted. "Al... most... got it! Neji, close them down!"

Neji struck again, fast and sure, and Naruto slumped against the next bed. "Okay," he rasped, as Sasuke released the Sharingan, with a covert sigh of relief. "See if that got it."

The wide-eyed medics lifted Kankurou back into bed and the old woman passed her hands over him. "He's stable," she said, rough and shocked. "His pulse, his muscles, his chakra... all clean." She turned and stared at Naruto. "How could you possibly feed enough chakra to him to replace his and still be standing?!"

Naruto grinned, pushing himself upright. "Well, me and Gaara have some things in common."

The old woman actually sputtered. "Are you telling me the slug girl taught Leaf's Sacrifice to heal?"

"Naruto is a very strong healer," Kakashi observed blandly before Sasuke and Sakura could do more than stiffen at what the woman had called Naruto. "The village is very glad to have him."

The old woman's eyes darkened. "I see," she said, very low. "That... was wise of the girl." More briskly she added, "And an ingenious solution, boy. You're a credit to your teacher."

"Chiyo-baasama?" The whisper from the bed drifted through the momentary silence, and everyone spun to see Kankurou pushing himself slowly up. "What...?"

"Kankurou!" Temari just about tackled him back to the bed with a hug. And then she grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. "You idiot! You went without backup! Never, ever, do that again!"

Sasuke caught Sakura's eye and had to stifle a snort of laughter; that sounded extremely familiar.

"They have Gaara!" Kankurou flailed a little trying to sit back up again. "We have to go after them!"

"There are tracking teams already on the two trails we found, and support teams following each of them," Temari told him. "As soon as they get a bird back to us, a full strength party is going in pursuit." She smiled a little. "The Leaf sent us help, too."

"Heh." Naruto straightened all the way. "Yeah, don't worry about it. We'll bring Gaara back!"

"Uzumaki." Kankurou looked around, and frowned. "Wait, how did I... did you...?"

The old woman, Chiyo, patted his arm. "Indeed. Naruto-kun was the one who cleared the poison from you." She held out a hand and ordered. "Grip!"

Obediently, Kankurou gripped her hand tight, and she nodded judiciously. "Almost fully recovered." She cocked her head at Naruto. "I'm very impressed. It was a completely brute force approach, but you actually undid most of the muscular and arterial damage. It seems the slug girl became a good teacher, as well as a good medic." She brushed her sleeves straight and added, quite casually, "When the team leaves to go after Gaara, I will accompany it."

"I'm coming too!" Kankurou swung his legs off the bed and pushed himself up with determination and only a little shakiness.

"Kankurou, you should stay put and recover," Temari exclaimed. "I'll go."

Kankurou smiled, crooked. "You know the council won't listen to me the way they will to you, Nee-san."

Temari made a frustrated sound, and Sasuke thought he knew what hidden fear was underneath her anger. Fear of the hell he'd lived in himself, of losing everything. "We'll bring them back," he said, quietly. "Both of them." It could still be done for Sand, at least. That thought was actually a little comforting.

"We'll absolutely bring everyone back," Naruto seconded, with downright alarming intensity.

Temari looked at them for a long moment. Finally, very softly, she asked, "Why?"

Naruto looked away, shrugging one shoulder. "Like I said, Gaara and I... we have some stuff in common." He looked up at Sasuke and Sakura, and then beyond them at Gai's team. "But I found people who accepted me. And he didn't. I know how it hurts, and I'm not going to let it keep going on." He looked back at her, again with that absolute determination of his. "Now that he has people, I'm not going to let him lose them!"

Sasuke nodded silently. It was true enough for him, too, though it was Temari he was thinking of and the expression that would be on her face if she had to stand and watch her family taken away from her. That was more than he was going to say to another nation's shinobi, though, no matter how much sympathy he had.

Temari had a hand pressed to her mouth. She blinked hard and swallowed, and whispered, "Thank you."

Naruto ran a hand through his hair, sheepishly. "Hey, don't worry. It'll all be okay."

Temari drew a slow breath and pulled herself together. "Come with me, then. I'll find rooms for you while we're waiting for the tracking parties to report."

Word came in the small hours of the morning, which Sasuke thought was a good thing. Much longer and Naruto would have produced Shadow Clones and gone chasing after both trails at once himself.

It would have been easier if the trail back toward River Country had been the true one, and it certainly ended in a convincingly warded cave, but there was no scent or trace of Gaara. Kankurou and Chiyo both agreed that trail had been laid by a puppet. The trail north into Sky Country, on the other hand, kept both Sasori's scent and Gaara's. A Sand patrol already near the border was ordered to close up and support the trackers, and Chiyo led Kankurou and the two Leaf teams out of the village herself.

"We'll just have to hope no one from Rain stumbles over this," Chiyo said grimly, as they ran north over slowly lightening sand and rock. "Because we don't have time to beat sense into that idiot Hanzou's head and then wait for the village to contact all their border patrols and convince them to stand aside."

"Akatsuki have gone to ground, haven't they? They won't be moving again without us catching them; we can take a little while to explain to the border patrols if we have to," Gai said, and gave her one of his embarrassingly optimistic thumbs up signs. "We'll have the Kazekage back in no time!"

Chiyo gave him a quelling look that Sasuke entirely approved of. "Depending on how many of them are gathered at this hidey hole of theirs, it's possible they're going to attempt an extraction."

"Extraction?" Both Gai and Kakashi looked puzzled.

Chiyo was silent for a few strides. "I don't know how Leaf does it, but Sand always extracted the tailed beast from the Sacrifices when they became too worn down to control it any more. It allowed us to store Shukaku in a stable form between embodiments. Akatsuki may have their own Sacrifice to transfer the One-tail into."

Sakura hissed between her teeth and Sasuke glanced over to see her eyes widening, sharp with calculation.

"But..." Neji was frowning. "Forgive me, Chiyo-san, but a beast's chakra mixes very deeply with the host's. Wouldn't that scar the host very badly?"

"It kills them," Chiyo said bluntly, dark eyes fixed straight ahead.

That choked off everyone for a moment, and Kankurou lost his next stride. "Gaara," he whispered.

"It takes time," Chiyo said. "Time and a great deal of chakra. If there aren't too many of them gathered, we'll still be in time." She shot a sidelong glance at Naruto. "I'm glad you're with us, Naruto-kun."

Naruto was starting to look a little feral again, and Sasuke and Sakura immediately closed in at his shoulders. Chiyo's brows twitched up, but she turned back to keeping their pace without comment.

"This is it," Sakura was muttering. "This is what they're doing! Not keeping control of the hosts... gaining control of the beasts!"

"Sakura," Sasuke asked, very quietly, "how many have been confirmed taken?"

"Five," she said, tightly. "More than half."

Sasuke felt something very cold sink down into his stomach. "I think this mission just became important to more than Sand and Leaf alone," he said, a little husky.

"I think you're right. Kakashi-sensei," Sakura called.

"We're all that can get there in time, this mission," Kakashi answered, and Sasuke wasn't surprised he was already on the same page. "But the villages have to know, one way or the other. Sasuke, can you summon on the run? Yours will be fastest."

Despite the sudden grimness of the situation, Sasuke's mouth quirked as he remembered the training Jiraiya had harried him through in this very country. "It'll be nostalgic," he murmured, and pulled a summoning scroll out of his pouch while Naruto took point and Sakura dropped behind to watch his back. A nick of his thumb, and blood to carry the summons, and Youchi swooped down over his head, wings shadowing them against the high, steel blue of the morning sky.

"On vacation again?" the hawk asked sarcastically.

Sasuke ignored the attitude. He was used to it; it was even comforting in a way, to have something around with a sufficiently caustic outlook on life that he didn't feel the need to contribute any extra cynicism. "Get word to the Hokage," he directed. "Akatsuki may be extracting the tailed beasts from their hosts, either to hold or to seal into their own candidates. Everyone needs to know this, not just us."

"Okay, but if Leaf's message keeper tries to mew me up again, I'm going to take his scalp off for real this time." Before Sasuke could answer, Youchi was winging away to the east, straight and fast.

"Have I mentioned that your summons is a jerk?" Naruto asked.

"Have I mentioned that yours is an idiot?" Sasuke shot back. He still hadn't forgotten the time Gamakichi glued all of his underwear to the bottom of his pack, not even on Naruto's orders.

"I bet your summons is nice and smart, Sakura-san," Lee chipped in, ever hopeful.

"I haven't contracted with one," Sakura said rather dryly from behind him, "but if I had I can guarantee you it would be more sensible than both of theirs put together."

Sasuke and Naruto shrugged at each other. That one was pretty hard to argue with.

A little more than two days took them over the border of Sky Country to meet with one of the trackers at the edge of a swamp.

"Kurota," Kankurou greeted the man, "report."

"There's an old building, well into the swamp, perhaps an abandoned temple." The man gestured almost due north. "The way to it is a maze, half reality and half illusion, seeded with some very subtle chakra triggered traps. We only broke all the way through this morning, and we don't have anyone with us who can open the door into the place."

"Show us," Chiyo rapped out. Kurota paused to bow deeply to her, which, Sasuke was distantly amused to note, made her hand twitch as if to cuff him. Sand did seem to have a feisty bunch of Elders.

The swamp path was a maze all right, and Sasuke was impressed the Sand teams had made it through with, apparently, no deaths. Even he and Sakura together would have been hard pressed to pick apart the tangle of subtle illusion that led the foot toward quicksand here, a sinkhole there, cloaked the already faint ripples of water predators in another spot. The obvious routes through clumps of trees were seeded with strangling traps. It took hours to work their way through, even with a guide, and he watched both Naruto and Kankurou getting tenser with every turn they had to take away from the path straight north.

It distracted him from his own tension, which cranked higher every time he couldn't keep from thinking about who might well have set these illusions.

Fortunately, Kankurou had Chiyo next to him to tweak his ear admonishingly whenever he tried to hurry ahead. As for Naruto... well Sasuke and Sakura both stayed close, with a hand on his arm or shoulder when they could. Naruto's eyes kept flickering toward the feralness of the fox.

When they finally broke out of the maze, they found the rest of the Sand teams gathered at the foot of a gray stone building in the square, tiered style of Sky Country, though it had none of the windows those tiers of roofs usually sheltered.

The tall, narrow doorway was blocked with stone, too.

Turning away from it was the dark-haired woman Sakura had met during the chuunin exams.

"Kankurou-san!" She stopped for a startled moment. "Chiyo-baasama."

"Yes, yes, spit it out, what's the problem?" Chiyo demanded testily, and Fuunotora regathered herself.

"The whole temple has a reflective seal woven through the stone. Any chakra technique at all is reflected back on the user. We need to break through with pure taijutsu, and none of my people are that strong; Shinji reports the walls and that door are over a meter thick. Perhaps one of your puppets? Or can one of our allies do such a thing?" She cocked a brow at Sakura.

Chiyo grunted unpromisingly, and Sakura glanced at their second team. "Gai-san? Lee?"

"Lee," Gai said firmly, laying a hand on Lee's shoulder. "Knowing the difficulty, even I might slip and bring my chakra to bear."

Lee stood very straight. "Right!"

"Any intelligence about the door itself?" Kakashi asked Fuunotora.

"Shinji!" Fuunotora called, and the Sand nin kneeling with his hands pressed to the stone in the door looked over his shoulder. For a second, Sasuke thought the man's eyes were as black as his, but then he blinked and his pupils shrank abruptly to show brown around them.

"This is definitely the weakest structural point," he tapped on the stone at a little over head height. "Aim here."

An eye technique. Which, of course, made Sasuke think of Itachi, and he shook himself, set that aside for later when they knew one way or the other. Instead, he breathed, cleared his mind of one thing after another, and slid into the place where the Sharingan turned the world clear and precise, watching like one of his hawks for the movement that signaled prey.

Kankurou was ordering the Sand teams to make a charge once the door was open, or clear more traps, whichever was needed. Kakashi waved the Leaf-nin to fall in behind them. Lee stood in front of the door, breathing slow and deep. Neji had his Byakugan active and was watching the temple tight-mouthed.

"Hurry," he said quietly. "It isn't just the reflection jutsu distorting things; there's something strange going on in there."

Lee nodded and sprang high into the air, spinning as he came down, and Sasuke could see the fine precision in how gravity and momentum came together with Lee's own strength in a single heel strike at the precise point Shinji had indicated.

Cracks starred the rock on impact, and one of the Sand nin gasped.

Lee landed in a crouch and spun up in a fluid wheel to punch the impact point with a kiai that was nearly a scream.

The rock shattered.

So, Sasuke noted, had two of Lee's long hand bones. His ankle was severely strained. Neji was swearing viciously under his breath even as he looked past his teammate into the building. "No traps," he shouted, "go!" The whole lot of them charged forward over the rubble.

The Sharingan highlighted for Sasuke every detail of what was inside. A single, open room. A huge, fading shape, shoulders and hands and a demon face. Five of nine figures fading with it. A body in unfamiliar dark robes but with red hair he recognized falling through the air. As it hit the ground, Kankurou's and Naruto's voices nearly as one, frightened and furious.

"GAARA!"

A/N: Another thing I never found believable was that one of the major villages wouldn't have any trackers of their own to have sent after their freaking Kage, and would not have sent any of their own teams along with the Leaf team to rescue him.

It's Just That Any One of Us Is Half Without Another One Is You - Chapter Twelve

Gaara is revived, and Naruto and Sakura take Sasuke home to recover. Drama, Angst, Fluff, Light Porn, I-5

When they reached the stone temple again, in the late, silvery light cast up by the swamp waters, Neji dumped Itachi's body next to Hoshigake's and the now headless bird-riding Akatsuki, and they went to join the others. Sand's shinobi all stood beside Gaara on a scrubby rise of hill.

Or at least, beside his body.

Even in his own daze, Sasuke drew closer to Naruto, trying to offer a little support. Naruto had been so determined to save his friend, his fellow host.

"Is he really...?" Naruto asked, voice rough.

Chiyo sighed and sat back on her heels beside the body. "You're a healer too, Naruto-kun. You know as well as I."

"It isn't right!" Naruto's hands clenched helplessly.

"No," she said, very softly. "No, it isn't." Her hands rested on Gaara's chest in a way that plucked at Sasuke's observation, even with the Sharingan closed down. That touch wasn't the farewell or silent plea for forgiveness of a medic who had failed. He'd seen that before. She held her hands like a healer preparing for a jutsu.

"Gaara," Kankurou whispered, kneeling on the other side of the body, face twisted with grief. The grief of losing his brother.

Sasuke remembered his promise to Temari and flinched.

"Kazekage-sama," Fuunotora said softly, folded hands pressed against her mouth. "He was taken because he tried to protect us instead of escaping."

"The other villages and hosts will know, now," Sakura offered, just as soft, eyes fixed on Gaara's body. "We'll find a way to destroy Akatsuki for this. That, at least."

"There may be something more." Chiyo's words dropped into the soft sounds of grief like pebbles into a pool.

Kankurou looked up with a jerk, and Naruto flung himself down beside her, all in one moment. "What?" Naruto demanded, eyes blazing. Chiyo looked back steadily. "You have great reserves of chakra," she said. "It may be enough, if you will lend me your strength."

"Anything," Naruto promised, tautly, reaching out to her, chakra already spilling into reddish visibility around his hands.

Kankurou whispered, voice harsh, "Chiyo-baasama..."

"Hush, boy," she told him with a faint smile. "It's my choice. I was the one who got Gaara into this mess, after all." She beckoned Naruto closer. "Feed your chakra to me, Naruto-kun. Don't falter. It will be a heavy draw; this is a deep technique." Softly she added, "And a forbidden one."

Naruto froze in mid-reach, eyes even wider than before. "Forbidden...?"

She smiled, quite serene, and Sasuke's heart twisted with the utter contrast between her expression and Itachi's mad calm. Chiyo's eyes were deep and shadowed, but content. "To bring back one who is already gone, my own life must be given."

Naruto flinched back. "But—!"

Chiyo reached up and rapped him over the head with her knuckles. "You hush too," she scolded. "I said it was my choice, and it is. It's one you may face someday, too, though I will hope not. It's a choice that comes to very powerful healers in time of war, though, all too often. And war is come on us again, I can see that." She looked around at the Sand-nin standing, stunned, around her. "Understand. This is my gift to our village, that our leader may live and be strong, and we may not be deprived of his will and wisdom. I believe young Gaara has both those. Don't let the silly boy brood, clear?" She fixed a sharp eye on Kankurou and he swallowed.

"Yes, Chiyo-baasama," he said, husky.

Chiyo nodded briskly. "Good. Now, then." She raised a brow at Naruto, who was biting his lip hard. The thought prodded at Sasuke that his team wasn't just his anchor; he was theirs also, and Naruto obviously had no real idea why Chiyo had chosen this. He shook himself out of his daze and went to kneel beside Naruto. He was too tired to yell or argue, the way they normally would, so he settled for just thumping down behind Naruto and resting his forehead against Naruto's back, nearly clinging to his shoulders for balance.

"It isn't wrong," he whispered. "It isn't your fault, because you want him back. Okay? It's her choice. As a noble, she's chosen her duty to her village and clan and Kage. Help her do it."

Chiyo's mouth crooked. "You're so sharp you'll cut yourself, boy," she murmured. Sasuke arched a tired brow at her. She didn't exactly hide the signs that she was from one of the Sand's noble clans. The influence she and her brother had, the size of the compound he'd heard some Sand-nin talking about—and with access to an underground river, in this desert village—wasn't it obvious? His thoughts were wandering. He hauled them wearily back.

"You're sure?" Naruto said, low and uncertain.

Sasuke tightened his hands for a moment. If Naruto was sometimes his voice, maybe he was Naruto's history—all the things Naruto should have been taught, as the son of the Fourth, but never had been. "I'm sure," he said softly.

"Okay, then." Naruto scooted forward, and Sasuke swayed, reaching out to brace himself against the ground to keep from falling over. Hands tipped him back upright, though the hands themselves were shaking. He looked up to see Kakashi looking down at him, drawn and gray like Sasuke had never seen before. The corner of his visible eye was crinkled, but not with the usual smile lines—with something softer and sadder. This mission had wrung out a lot of hearts, he thought distantly.

He managed to straighten up a bit, at least long enough for Sakura to kneel beside him and wrap an arm around him. They watched Naruto's hands pressed over Chiyo's on Gaara's chest.

"It was a technique for puppets," Kankurou muttered, broad shoulders tight, eyes fixed on Gaara. "To give them life. But it always cost a life. Chiyo-baasama forbid it herself."

Light grew and refracted around Naruto and Chiyo's hands. Sasuke wondered what he would see if he'd been able to muster chakra for the Sharingan. Gai had come to stand with them, one shoulder under Kakashi's; their commander must have spent all his reserves, too, to be accepting support like that in public. Sasuke leaned against Sakura and blinked. Lots of public. There were... more people here than there had been.

The rise of ground before the temple was filling with new figures, one after another. Shinobi of the Sand, he realized, slowly taking in the uniforms they wore. One of them was Temari.

"Gaara!"

Kankurou caught her. "It's okay," he said, low and rough, as she tugged against his grip on her shoulders, dark, scared eyes fixed on their brother. "It's okay. Chiyo-baasama has him." His mouth twisted. "And Naruto, too."

Whispers ran through the tripled crowd as he told her what had happened, that four of Akatsuki were confirmed dead. That Sand had killed their own renegade, and Leaf theirs.

"I couldn't confine Hoshigake," Gai was saying quietly to Kakashi, behind them. "I only barely defeated him, and that took opening the seventh gate. Nothing we have available could have held him, if he'd regained awareness." For once that booming, bluff voice was hard. Dark.

"Best that you killed him, then." Kakashi's voice was cool. "We'll see if we can make out anything of their plans from what the four of them said during battle."

The light around the two healers faded and Kankurou hurried forward to catch Chiyo as she fell. Naruto looked grim and drawn, across from her, hands still resting on Gaara's chest. "I'll look out for him for you," he whispered, eyes on the old woman's body. "I promise."

From the crowd, Chiyo's brother came forward and took her from Kankurou, laying her out carefully a few steps away with some low, murmured words that Sasuke thought were probably goodbye.

Gaara stirred and breathed. By the time he opened his eyes, he was wrapped in Temari's arms as she hid tears against his shoulder. "Nee-san," he murmured, and that pulled a single, muffled sob out of her.

"Hey," Naruto told Gaara, softly, smile crooked. "Everyone was just coming to save you." He looked around at the crowd and Gaara followed his glance, eyes a bit wide. Noise broke over the crowd, sounding everywhere of relief as Gaara slowly stood with Naruto's hand under his arm.

"Our turn," Sakura murmured. "Can you stand?"

"I'm not the one who died," Sasuke muttered. "Just help me up."

So he was on his feet to offer his respects to Chiyo's spirit, as Gaara requested. That was proper. Naruto came to join his team as Gaara's siblings and people closed around their Kazekage, and Sasuke reached out and hauled him closer. "It was what she wanted. Her spirit thanks you," he murmured, leaning against Naruto.

Naruto scrubbed a rough sleeve across his eyes and muttered, "You noble types are really crazy, you know that?" He leaned back, though, and some of the prickly tension Sasuke had felt, seeing Gaara dead and tossed aside just for the sake of his beast, settled in face of Naruto's solid, living presence.

That would not happen to Naruto. Not ever. Sasuke had stopped Itachi, he'd kept his family alive, he'd do it again as often as he had to.

"...and if we have another healer around who can stop decomposition," he heard Kakashi saying off to one side, "we'll take Itachi's body back to Konoha."

Sasuke spoke without thinking. "No." He turned to face Kakashi and two of the Sand shinobi, who were all looking at him, a bit startled.

"We don't dare leave one of our advanced bloodlines just lying around," Kakashi observed, brow raised.

"Then burn him here." Certainty spilled through Sasuke with the words, and he straightened a little between Naruto and Sakura. "He chose this," waving a hand at the temple and, by implication, all of Akatsuki's works. "Let him stay here. He is banished from the clan, and his spirit is none of ours." Against his side, he felt Sakura relax, and her arm tighten around him.

"All right," Kakashi said after a long, thoughtful moment. "Naruto. Do you still have enough chakra for a sustained fire?"

Naruto glanced questioningly at Sasuke and, at his nod, patted Sasuke's shoulder and stepped forward. "Yeah."

The rest of the Leaf teams gathered around Sasuke as he watched Itachi's body burn, wild and hot. Considerably hotter than he'd expected, actually, and his mouth twitched as he caught the vindictive glare Naruto was giving the body.

"What was it Tsunade-sama said about him?" Sakura murmured with a hint of laughter in her voice, apparently having noticed too.

"A pathologically overprotective beast host, who can be counted on to follow right after any kidnapping, setting forests on fire with his chakra as he goes," Sasuke recited, having had exactly the same moment in mind.

"Not that you have a lot of room to talk, yourself," she added.

They were smiling as Naruto turned back to them, and he smiled too, some of the tight lines around his mouth relaxing again.

It was a slow journey home. They went back to Sand, first, so Naruto could make sure Gaara was all right and Kakashi could talk the Sand Council into returning Hoshigake's body to Mist intact.

"We will need good will among the great villages very badly and very soon," he'd told them bluntly, and eventually they'd agreed. Sasuke thought Kakashi-sensei really was very good at diplomatic stuff when he wanted to be—though he had no idea why it made Kakashi flinch when Sakura voiced the same thought out loud.

Kakashi and Sasuke were both still tired and had to go slowly. Lee's ankle and hand had been set but weren't fully healed. Gai had pushed himself too hard while he was still recovering from the Eight Gates and had been yelled at very firmly by an exasperated Sand medic and forbidden to run at more than half speed. Neji was trying to hide it, but he was still wincing now and then from taking even an interrupted Tsukuyomi.

And Sasuke's mind wasn't focusing the way it really should. Akatsuki was out there, and here was Leaf's host in the open and only lightly guarded. He had work to do. He had a clan to re-found. He should be focused.

Instead, little random moments replayed in his mind's eye. The expression on Gaara's face when he overheard some of the Sand girls squealing over him. Sakura's excited remarks over dinner one night about fish in the underground river. A curl of sand lifting Naruto's hand up to meet Gaara's, when they parted. The Naka priestesses dancing in the empty streets of the Uchiha compound.

He nearly stumbled over his own feet at that memory, and Naruto was instantly beside him, frowning worriedly.

"Hey, are you okay? Do you need to rest? Hey, everyone, we're taking a break now!"

"I don't need to rest," Sasuke started.

"Medic says!" Naruto snapped, glaring at him.

"Use that too often, and it isn't going to work some day when you need it," Sasuke grumbled, but the group was already alighting at the foot of a tree and he resigned himself to a break whether he needed it or not.

And maybe it was best not to be running, for a moment. He leaned back against the tree and absently accepted the water bottle Naruto pressed into his hand, and looked into the past.

He hadn't thought about the cleansing in years. The village had paid for the priests and priestesses of the Naka Shrine to cleanse the compound, after the bodies were taken away. To burn the handful of buildings that couldn't be cleansed. He had vague memories of someone talking to him about the clan's accounts, of signing something to pay for an auxiliary shrine, and for a priest to tend the murdered dead of Uchiha until their violence was appeased.

And the compound had had to be cleansed so that people... so that people would move in. He hadn't thought about that, either. Not past the decision never to visit, never to see other people living in his clan's place.

That was not, he understood in the abstract, any way for the head of a clan to act. But he didn't know if he could do any differently.

"Hey." Sakura, sitting next to him, nudged his shoulder with hers. "You doing okay?" She was looking away into the trees instead of at him, which he was glad for.

"It's... there's... something I need to think about."

"Not surprised." She gave him a little, sidelong smile. "You know we're not leaving you, right?"

Sasuke snorted. "Since the two of you have barely left me alone in the bathroom for the last three days, I kind of figured, yeah." His mouth had curved up at the corners, though, and Sakura looked satisfied.

"Just making sure."

Sasuke was quiet for a moment. "After we get home," he finally said. "Stay with me."

Her eyes darkened for a moment, and she nodded.

Sasuke closed his water bottle and stood up. "Let's get going, then."

Eventually, they got back to Konoha and Kakashi went off to make reports and Naruto bullied the hospital staff into letting them all go after a check-up. He was getting good at that, Sasuke reflected, watching him wave his arms vigorously and lecture a faintly amused-looking doctor about all the tests and observations he'd made of the team on the way back.

And then he was finally home, walking through the darkening streets of his village as the lamps lit here and there, and climbing the stairs to his apartment with his teammates beside him.

Sakura promptly spread his double futon and pushed him down onto it, settling behind him. "All right," she said firmly, strong hands kneading his shoulders. "We're home. There's no one else to see. You can let go."

"Knew it," Naruto grumbled from the kitchen nook.

"You just hush up and cook," Sakura directed.

Sasuke didn't know what he wanted to say until he heard the words, "I really loved my brother," coming out of his mouth. Sakura took in a quick breath at that and wrapped her arms around him. Sasuke was glad for that; it kept the shaking in his stomach from taking his whole body. "I loved him," he said again, slowly, painfully. "And then he turned into... that."

"Maybe something happened to him," Naruto suggested, from the direction of the stove. "Like Orochimaru tried to happen to you."

Sasuke's breath caught. He didn't often think of that, these days—of the months when he'd been going, in retrospect, slowly crazy. "Oh."

Sakura's arms stayed strong around him, stilling the shaking, and he leaned back against her, just breathing. After a long, silent moment while she rocked him gently, Sakura asked, "Sasuke, what age did your clan inherit at? I mean... if there was any kind of recognition or ritual for the heir, when did that happen?" Her voice was slow and thoughtful.

"Thirteen," Sasuke answered, automatically; another reason Orochimaru had gotten to him so easily, that year when, if he hadn't been the last one alive, he should have been acknowledged, should have taken on more responsibilities. And then he froze. Thirteen. When he'd been seven. The year that his father and Itachi had started to quarrel. The year that his brother changed.

"Sasuke?" Sakura asked softly, one hand rubbing his back steadily.

"He changed, then," Sasuke whispered, starting blindly at the wall. "He did. He and Tou-san argued. That... that was the year his best friend died." A shudder ripped through him. "For the Mangekyou Sharingan... he said...."

"Said what?"

"Itachi killed him." Sasuke tried to swallow, and found his throat too dry. "That night... when we fought... he said to go to the shrine. I found records about it. You have to kill the person closest to you."

"To achieve that second Sharingan?" Sakura asked, and he just nodded.

"Well, but hang on." Naruto came to the futon with hot mugs of ramen, of course, for all of them. Sasuke folded shaking hands around his. "Kakashi-sensei has one of those. He used it while we were chasing Deidara; that's what got him in the end. Whoa, hey!" He put a fast hand under Sasuke's cup to keep it from spilling as Sasuke jerked forward, staring at him.

"I told him," Sasuke whispered, cold tightening on his chest. "After that mission to Hidden Stone, I told him, I asked him to help me unlock the records. But he couldn't..." Please no, please not again.

Naruto's snort broke the panicked circle of his thoughts. "Of course Kakashi-sensei hasn't killed anyone!" He paused. "Well, not like that. I mean... he was in the last war. He's killed people; he's a shinobi after all. But not like that."

No. Not like that, not Kakashi-sensei, the one who had taught him how not to listen to Itachi. Sasuke slowly relaxed again and managed a sip of his broth without spilling it, limp with relief.

"So there must be some other way to achieve it, then," Sakura pointed out.

He blinked. "There... was something about that. I remember. The record of the Mangekyou, it said something about killing being the forbidden way, almost like there was more than one. But it didn't say what any others might be, so I thought it must not mean that."

"Well, it's a forbidden technique," Naruto said reasonably. "They wouldn't want to say too much."

"So we know Kakashi-sensei figured out a different way; good," Sakura said firmly. "But that timing... I think something must have happened to Itachi. Something he had to do for the ritual or something he found out, then."

"Maybe it was the clan records themselves," Sasuke said, low, looking down into his noodles. "The records that were sealed in the shrine. I didn't know about them until Itachi told me. They were secret."

"He graduated young, didn't he?" Sakura murmured. "And then went into ANBU, and he'd been a kid during the last war. I bet he was under a lot of pressure. Maybe it was just too much."

Maybe the clan had been Itachi's anchor, Sasuke thought, and maybe finding something like the Mangekyou in its history had just been too much. But a lot of people had been under heavy pressure and none of them had murdered all their relatives. So it had to be something about Itachi himself too. That was the thought that led him to mutter, "I wonder if it'll happen to me, too."

Naruto thumped his cup down by the bed. "No, it won't," he said, very definitely, and rocked forward on his knees to wrap Sasuke in his arms. "You lost everything once, and it didn't happen. Even when people were trying to make it happen, it didn't happen! And we won't let it." He leaned in and kissed Sasuke, gentle and awkward, and said, more quietly, "Okay?"

Sasuke let himself lean into them, into the rare, serious softness of Naruto's eyes holding his and Sakura's hands on his shoulders, and whispered, "Yeah. Okay." His team. His anchor. His... family. They would keep him safe from this, too.

"Good. Then finish eating," Naruto ordered, giving him the medic-look instead.

Sasuke picked up his mug of ramen, raising his brows. "This is your idea of good nutrition, as a healer, is it?"

"Hey, it's salt, sugar, and carbohydrates!" Naruto protested. "What more do you want?" He sounded indignant, but he was grinning.

Sakura leaned against his shoulder giggling, and Sasuke ate a bite of ramen and felt himself settling back into his right place.

The season was turning before Sasuke could bring himself to visit the Uchiha compound. When he did he found that it wasn't, any more.

He'd known, in theory, that part of the reason the village had paid for the cleansing of the compound from the deaths was so that people could live there again. And he'd been aware that he was, technically, the landlord of many people living on the compound's ground. But he'd never paid any attention to that. The bank had assigned a trustee to the Uchiha accounts, there was more than enough money in them when he needed some, and he'd left it at that.

Now he actually saw what the figures on those quarterly statements he'd stuffed away without reading meant.

Parts of the compound were still empty, but in other places there were people: slow extensions of the surrounding neighborhoods, or a store reopened and a clutch of houses reoccupied around it. There were people walking in the streets, talking and arguing and laughing. Live, solid people, out in the sunlight under the changing leaves.

They just weren't Uchiha.

He recognized every meter of this place, and it was all strange to him. The clash of past and present was so disorienting he had to stop now and then while Naruto or Sakura gave him their hands to grip until he could walk again.

They stayed close to him, and he caught them, once or twice, silently warning off someone whose eyes widened with recognition on seeing him. He was glad of that; if someone had asked him if he was Uchiha Sasuke, he wasn't entirely sure what he would have answered. Even his own self felt strange to him, today.

Finally they came to the river, and the Naka shrine, and Sasuke stopped and stared.

There were people here, too.

The auxiliary shrine was built on a broad walk around the side of the main hall. It was well tended; the stone was clean and the paint bright. And there were people here. A woman stood before the offertory box, hands pressed together. A young couple were waiting quietly for her to finish. Two mothers and their children stood at the gate talking, smiling, perhaps waiting for the woman who prayed.

No one was afraid. No one walked too softly. They weren't here to propitiate angry ghosts. They were here because it was the compound's shrine, here to honor the clan who had held the land they lived on.

It was so much as it should be, so right, that he had to reach out for Naruto and Sakura again, and they gathered him into their arms, quick and protective.

He took what felt like the first full breath that day and said, "I need to come back here. This... I need to be here again. Here, where it's new."

He had feared, for years, that if he set foot back in the compound the weight of memory, the weight of that night, would crush him. And, at the same time, he had feared the intrusion of others, of outsiders who would desecrate the memory of his clan and his vengeance. Instead he had found... life. Life going on and yet honoring what had been, what had been his.

That was what, finally, let the tears he'd denied for almost ten years break through.

Naruto and Sakura held him through it, warm arms around him and quiet murmurs without meaningful words. And it was Sakura who found a tea shop inside the district for them and made him sit down where he could see the people passing while Naruto got hot tea and some sesame dango for them.

"This might be a nice place to live, right around here," Sakura said softly, looking around. "One of the empty areas is near here. You could take something at the edge of that." She smiled at him over the rim of her cup. "And have room to expand."

The thought, the mental image of a house known but not too familiar, was a good one. More than that, the thought of having clan again, or at least the plans and space for one, made some cranky sense of something-off at the bottom of his heart subside.

Naruto leaned his elbows on his knees and smiled at Sasuke, sidelong. "So, hey, will you give us discount rental rates, if we move in around here?"

Sasuke couldn't help smiling, even if it did stretch the rawness of his cheeks. "You can pay me part of it in babysitting." The appalled look on Naruto's face made him laugh.

"Oh, go on, Naruto, you'd be good at it," Sakura said, ruthlessly. "And it's not like I'm going to take too much time off for it." She hesitated suddenly and added, not quite looking at either of them as her cheeks turned pink. "I mean. If you want me to. I figure I would be okay with it. Having Uchiha kids."

Sasuke's face heated, and he had to clear his throat. "I'd like that. Yeah." He had a hard time imagining anyone else, though he supposed he'd better, eventually. He doubted Sakura had any intention of retiring to play clan-mother.

"Oh well, if they're yours, I guess it's okay; I'll watch 'em," Naruto muttered, also a little red himself. They all drank their tea in flustered silence.

As the thought settled in, though, Sasuke had to admit it felt good. It felt right.

His family. This time, the thought didn't hurt.

Sasuke had barely settled on a suitable house when Sakura was recalled to work by Intelligence. Naruto wasn't at all sure he approved of this.

"I'd tell them where they can stick this assignment," she told them, driving her hands through her short hair in frustration, "but Tsunade-sama is the one who requested me. It must be important."

"Can you tell us what it is?" Sasuke asked quietly.

"It's a diplomatic mission, sort of. To Hidden Valley, to tell them about the Akatsuki base in their country so they can take care of it."

Naruto frowned. Okay, yeah, that was important. But so was their team! "Can we come with you?"

Sakura's mouth tilted and she leaned back against one of the trees of the training ground with a thump. "They might let you go, but no one is going to pass Sasuke for duty yet, and I'm not leaving him here without you to look after him."

Sasuke didn't say anything at all to that and Naruto scooted over on the log they shared to lean against him, worried. Sakura came and sat on her heels in front of Sasuke, resting her hands on his shoulders. "It's okay," she said softly. "Kakashi-sensei is leading this mission. Even if we run into any more of Akatsuki, none of the rest of them are going to go after me to get a lever on you, right?"

Sasuke relaxed a little, and Naruto's eyes widened. Was that what he'd been worried about? Sakura looked over at him meaningfully. "Take care of Sasuke while I'm gone, all right?"

Stay with him so he had at least one of them in view, Naruto was betting that meant, and nodded firmly. He could do that.

Sasuke snorted. "Shouldn't you be telling me to look after him, so he doesn't eat nothing but ramen and store bought onigiri while you're gone?"

That sounded more like their Sasuke and Naruto grinned even as he drew himself up indignantly. "Hey, I can cook!"

"Yes, you can," Sasuke answered blandly. "You just don't."

Sakura laughed and everything was okay again, even a day later when they saw her off at the gates. Sasuke got quieter again once the gates closed, though, so Naruto steered them toward a takoyaki stand just to make him roll his eyes. It worked and the food tasted great. Complete win.

"If you're going to hang around," Sasuke told him, having obviously figured that part out, "you can help me pack. With luck it'll be done by the time Sakura gets back, and she can lend a hand with moving."

"Okay," he agreed around a mouthful of dumpling, and chalked up another win at the long-suffering look Sasuke gave him for his lack of manners.

Someone had to keep Sasuke from getting too serious, after all.

Packing to move was strange. Naruto was pretty sure it violated the laws of physics, because even when there was as much boxes of stuff as there had been space to put stuff, there was still stuff left. It was also, he decided after no more than an hour, not a good thing for Sasuke to be doing when he was already in a low mood. The third time he caught Sasuke sitting there on the mats, staring at a photo or a book or a kunai, he decided it was time to take measures. Sakura had entrusted Sasuke to him, after all.

The problem was what measures, and he thought about that as he wrapped up plates and bowls, of which Sasuke had about five times as many as he did. Sasuke wouldn't agree to food again so soon. He might agree to some training, but if he'd gotten into the wrong mood that might just make him even more dark and broody, the way he got sometimes when he was seeing ghosts in place of his actual target.

Well, if those were out, there was always their other popular team activity.

Naruto grinned, tucking away the last bowl. Yeah. That should work. He closed the box, stacked it with the rest and strolled over to where Sasuke was sorting his shelves. "Hey, Sasuke?"

"What?" When Sasuke looked up, Naruto took the opening and swooped down to kiss him.

Sasuke made a startled sound, one fist closing in Naruto's shirt as if to throw him. Naruto laughed, which made the kiss a little odd for a moment, and slumped forward, letting his weight bear Sasuke back to the tatami. Sasuke growled at that, eyes lighting up properly, and rolled.

They half wrestled over the floor for a few turns, laughing and groping, until Naruto got his hand into Sasuke's pants. That made Sasuke's eyes half close, and he ground his hips down against Naruto. "Mmm."

Naruto grinned. "I win," he declared, breathless.

"Oh you do, huh?" Sasuke looked down at him thoughtfully, eyes glinting, and finally smiled. "Try this, then." He closed both hands around Naruto's face and kissed him. A different kiss than usual.

It was slow and... gentle. Coaxing. And something else, too. Sasuke's mouth moved over his carefully, and his hands cradled Naruto's face like... like Naruto was something precious he didn't want to drop. That thought made a little sound catch in the back of his throat, and Sasuke's arms wrapped around him with that same care.

"I know it sounds weird for me, of all people, to say," Sasuke murmured, resting his forehead against Naruto's. "But not everything has to be a competition."

Naruto swallowed, eyes wide. "O... okay." Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Sasuke, too, and it made his heart do turny-flippy things when Sasuke relaxed, letting Naruto take his weight.

"Itachi," Sasuke said quietly. "That... that wasn't a competition either. But I want to be better than him."

"You are!" Naruto said fiercely, holding Sasuke tighter. "You already are!"

"Mm." He could feel Sasuke smiling a little against his neck. "Not stronger yet, though."

That felt wrong to Naruto, and he thought about it. "You were in the end, though," he finally said, slowly. "You won, Sasuke. That's stronger, isn't it?"

"I couldn't block Amaterasu, though," Sasuke objected and Naruto frowned.

"So what? You won. Quit trying to find reasons for it not to count!" He pummeled Sasuke's shoulder for a moment before wrapping his arms back around him. "Besides, Sakura looked in the Intelligence records and said it sounded like that Mangekyou thing is really dangerous and makes you go blind. Is that true? You'd better not be thinking of doing that if it's true."

After a taut moment, Sasuke snorted and relaxed over him again. "Yeah, okay. I guess... I did win." He leaned up on an elbow, looking down at Naruto soberly. "And yes. The Mangekyou Sharingan leads to blindness if it's used too often. I want to find a different way."

"Well that's okay, then." Naruto settled his arms comfortably around Sasuke's waist. "We'll help."

"Yeah," Sasuke said softly. "I know you will." He slid back down to lie against Naruto and added, a bit muffled against his shoulder, "Thanks."

Naruto smiled and just held him. "Yeah."

A/N: Little changes: Kakashi has slightly better aim than in canon because I'm not going to faff around with multiple rounds against Akatsuki, and Gai's fight with Kisame goes very much the same as in canon except that it's the real thing, which means he has to open up another level to beat him. I'm thinking Sasori's fight also goes quite similarly, only Chiyo has Fuunotora and her teams instead of Sakura. Since those are all basically canon-replays, I'm not going to do them up in detail. You already know pretty much what happens.

A Cup of Sugar

The young women of Sakura's age cohort go out for a night of bonding, and this winds up with Sakura taking Hinata home with her. Takes place between Chapters Twelve and Thirteen of Half Without Another One, when Hinata and Sakura are seventeen or eighteen. Porn with Characterization, I-4

The sake had gone around a couple times, and they were getting to the stage of competitive gossip and confidences that might have been embarrassing later if they hadn't had a firm pact never to speak of Girls' Night Out in the cold light of day.

"So come on, Sakura." Ino leaned forward precipitously over the table of their booth at Shushuya while Tenten giggled and Hinata blushed. "The three of you are practically inseparable, no matter how many solo missions any of you take. It's totally the three of you together in bed, isn't it?"

Sakura leaned back with a smug smile. "Of course it is." At the squeals of glee, she waved her sake cup. "Not that the two left behind don't keep each other company, but it just feels best when it's all three of us. Besides," she grinned into her cup, "Sasuke's got amazing attention to detail, and Naruto is just unstoppable, and I'm a fantastic strategist; the field isn't the only place that's an advantage." More squeals. She took another sip, thoughtfully. "Though I gotta say, I really think Sasuke was showing off on purpose when he took Naruto to bed the night I got home last time. It was a really nice view to come home to." Squeaks this time. Sakura laughed and nudged Tenten's knee. "So what about you?"

Tenten held out her cup for a refill. "We're not as, you know, committed as you three, but yeah sometimes it's all of us." With a glint of challenge in her eye she went Sakura one better on detail and added, "With us it's mostly just mouths and hands, you know. Lee's got amazing fingers, you should give him a try some time, Sakura." Everyone laughed and Sakura toasted Tenten's score.

She couldn't help asking, though, curious, "Do Lee and Neji ever...?"

Tenten nodded, eyes sparkling. "Mm. Sometimes, especially if Neji thinks Lee was taking a stupid risk and Lee keeps trying to justify it with Gai-sensei's ideas about youthful passion. Sometimes I really wonder if he does it just so Neji will snap and kiss him to shut him up." She laughed. "But then, sometimes when we're back from a mission and Lee just won't stop bouncing, Neji actually hits the pressure points to make him sleep." Her smile softened as everyone laughed. "And then he puts Lee to bed. It's really sweet to see."

Softly, looking down at her drink, Hinata said, "Neji-niisan is a kind person."

Sakura could see the speculation behind Ino's faintly narrowed eyes and pursed lips; they'd both wondered a bit about Hinata and Neji lately. But what Ino actually asked was, "So, is your team in bed at all, Hinata? I have to admit, the three of you never struck me that way." She gave a delicate shudder and slugged back the rest of her sake. "And I know it has to work out somehow, but seriously—sleeping with an Aburame?"

Hinata turned red as a rose. "It's not...! I mean...! Um..." Her fingers tangled together and she looked down at them.

"Hey, hey." Sakura wrapped an arm around her. "You know Girls' Night rules; you don't have to say if you don't want to."

Hinata actually laughed, soft and breathless. "Actually it's... they hold me." She peeked up at Sakura with a tiny smile. "Kind of like this. A lot."

"Yeah?" Sakura smiled and turned toward her, drawing Hinata closer and cuddling her. "Like this?"

Hinata blushed some more, but nodded and leaned into her, and Sakura settled her close. Ino turned a little more to face the room, leaning an elbow on the table, watching Sakura's back as casually as ever. Sakura grinned across at her.

"Um," Hinata murmured, unexpectedly. "Shino-kun and Kiba-kun do. Sometimes." She peeked up from Sakura's shoulder with a furtive sparkle in her eyes. "I think Kiba-kun likes it a lot when Shino-kun holds him down."

Tenten squeaked breathlessly and Ino looked just as wide-eyed as Sakura felt. "I think Hinata is winning this round," Sakura declared, and laughed when Hinata ducked back down against her, blushing deeply but also triumphant. "So, what do you say, Ino? Got anything to top that?"

"Hmmmm." Ino took another drink. "You know," she said, more thoughtful than salacious, "Chouji and Shikamaru are a little like that too. Only with them, it's all in their heads. But Chouji always looks to Shikamaru, even now we're all chuunin. And when Shikamaru takes him to bed..." she looked down at her cup. "Well, it's just really sweet. He takes really good care of Chouji." She smiled wryly. "When they get like that, I just go flirt with Anko-san until she tackles me onto the couch; I always learn something new from her."

Sakura laughed and Hinata squeaked. Anko had taught the week of "female sexual physiology" for their year at the academy.

"I'll tell you this, though." Ino shook off her serious mood and grinned. "When I am in bed with Chouji? His tongue can go for hours."

Everyone squealed over that, and the contest dissolved into laughter and another bottle of sake.

As they were leaving, though, Sakura touched Hinata's shoulder and said softly, "If this is none of my business, just tell me. But... it sounded kind of like you don't really go to bed with anyone." Hinata blushed, and Sakura hurried on. "And, really, you can totally tell me if this is a 'no', but..." she touched Hinata's cheek gently, "would you like it if I showed you how it goes?" The easy way Hinata had cuddled into her was really making her think Hinata needed another woman to figure this out with.

Hinata's eyes got very wide, and Sakura prepared to backpedal if necessary. "You..." Hinata's hands were clasped tight together again. "You wouldn't mind?" she whispered.

Sakura had to stifle a fast flare of anger at how timidly Hinata asked that, and reached out to hug her close again. One of these days, she swore, she was going to give Hyuuga Hiashi a piece of her mind, and he wasn't going to enjoy the experience. "Of course I wouldn't mind!" She cupped Hinata's face in her hands and said softly, "Hinata. You're a beautiful woman. Your heart is strong enough for any two people. I truly respect all of your work. And I would be honored if you want to come home with me tonight."

Hinata was flushed, now, pink and shy and breathless. "I... I'd like that, please. Yes."

Sakura cuddled her close for another breath before managing to let her go, and took her hand. "I'm glad." She kept hold of Hinata's hand as they wandered back through the evening streets, which meant Hinata was still pink-cheeked when they reached Sakura's apartment. It was really awfully cute, she thought privately, and pondered the possibilities for whacking Naruto upside the head with a clue about Hinata's crush on him.

"Oh, hey," she said, struck by a sudden thought as she unlocked her door, "is your clan going to panic if you don't come home? I mean, am I going to have Neji breaking down my door at three in the morning?"

"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't break it down," Hinata answered with every appearance of earnestness. "Neji-niisan trusts your team."

Sakura paused for a breath to contemplate the implied alternatives of Neji picking her lock, or possibly camping outside her window, and shook her head. The noble clans were their own thing all right. "Well, if he's still here in the morning, I suppose I'll just make breakfast for three," she sighed, and led Hinata inside.

She didn't bother to turn on the lights. There was plenty from the windows, for tonight.

When she turned back in the middle of the room, though, Hinata was still hovering by the door and Sakura reminded herself firmly that Hinata was a lot shyer than most shinobi. Most shinobi who were interested in sex to begin with, anyway. She came back and cupped a hand around Hinata's cheek, kissing her softly. "Still good?"

Hinata nodded, pale eyes wide in the dimness.

"Here." Sakura eased off the soft, lavender coat Hinata favored and hung it by the door. Without it, in only her mesh shirt and dark pants with nothing hiding her full figure and sleek muscles, Hinata looked older, stronger, considerably more dangerous. Sakura paused, head tilted. "Is there a need," she asked softly, "to hide what you are, here in Hidden Leaf?"

Hinata didn't pretend she didn't understand, biting her lip and looking aside. "I suppose... not any more. Not really. But I was also so cold for so long—it got to be a habit."

Cold. Frozen out of her own family, given what Sakura knew of Hyuuga politics, and she had to take a long breath for calm. It was bad enough that Hinata suffered physical effects from it, she didn't need to also be alarmed by Sakura throwing things at the wall.

Maybe she'll just tell Naruto about this, and let him work on Hiashi for a while. And then she could put in her two cents once the man was already pounded into the ground a little. By this point in his medical training Naruto would know exactly what it meant, that Hinata had been physically cold. That kind of effect on a shinobi's chakra was sabotage, pure and simple. She could explain that calmly and sensibly to people while Naruto was discussing the issue with Hiashi.

And then they would let Sasuke have him.

That was for later, though. For now she just gathered Hinata close, one hand rubbing slow circles over her back. As Hinata relaxed again, she smiled and bent her head to brush a soft kiss against the curve of Hinata's neck. She half expected Hinata to squeak, but instead she gasped, soft and breathy, and the sound went right down Sakura's spine to curl low and hot in her stomach. "Bed?" she suggested, husky. Hinata nodded.

Sakura took her hands and coaxed her step by step across the wide room to where she'd spread her futon before going out tonight—it was easier than doing it very drunk later if it turned out to be one of those nights. The analytical corner of her mind observed that it was likely a good thing she'd acquired a taste for older style bedding from Sasuke; she imagined it would be more familiar to Hinata, too.

And it wouldn't creak, the way Naruto's bed did under two or more.

She took her time undressing, and helping Hinata undress, pausing with every garment to kiss the uncovered skin. She wanted to give Hinata as much time as she needed to be comfortable, of course; she also really wanted to hear more of the little sounds Hinata made. By the time she'd stripped off their underwear she was flushed and warm, herself, just from listening. When she traced a line of open-mouthed kisses up Hinata's stomach and between her breasts, Hinata's soft moan made her shiver.

"You're incredibly sexy, you know that right?" she murmured against Hinata's shoulder. Hinata gasped a small laugh.

"Sakura!"

"It's true." Sakura leaned up on an elbow and stroked a gentle hand down the line of Hinata's body. "For starters you're built like a work of sculptural art, but that aside..." she bent to kiss Hinata softly and nearly moaned herself at the way Hinata's lips parted for her, the little breath of sound that answered. "Mmm. Just the way you are, like this, would make anyone hot, trust me."

Hinata looked up at her, and even in the dim light she was blushing and bright-eyed. "Really?" she asked, and Sakura smiled helplessly back at the soft note of delight in her voice.

"Really." She stroked her fingertips along the curve of Hinata's breast. "Let me show you?"

Hinata's nod was more confident than it had been all night, and Sakura's inner strategist made a satisfied sound. She knelt over Hinata and slid both hands up to lift her breasts gently. Just that made Hinata arch a little, and Sakura was practically purring when she traced a slow spiral over one breast with her tongue to close her mouth on the nipple.

"Oh!" Hinata's hands flew up to catch Sakura's hips.

"Mmm," Sakura answered, stroking her tongue over Hinata's nipple, feeling the tiny shivers spilling through her, listening to her breath coming quicker. She cupped the other breast and circled her thumb gently over that nipple too. Heat curled tighter between her legs when Hinata moaned.

"Sakura," Hinata gasped.

Sakura drew back slowly, sucking a little, and the sound Hinata made when Sakura's lips pulled away from her nipple made Sakura's voice husky. "Starting to feel it?" she whispered, and slid her hand slowly down Hinata's body to cup lightly between her legs. "Down here?"

"Oh... yes." Hinata's eyes were half closed, lips parted.

"Will you let me show you more of that?" Sakura wasn't even trying to hide the want in her own voice. She thought that was what made Hinata smile.

"Yes."

Sakura kissed her smile, deep and slow, sliding her tongue through Hinata's mouth as she pressed her hand more firmly between Hinata's legs, kneading just a little. Good for increased blood flow, Anko leered cheerfully in her head, and Sakura had to shove the memory back down before she laughed. Hinata was making those breathless little sounds again, and Sakura couldn't help the husky sound she made in answer as her fingertips dipped into the wetness of Hinata's entrance.

"Here," she whispered. "Just let me..." She kissed her way down Hinata's body until she could settle between Hinata's legs. "I want to taste."

"Sakura...!" She could almost hear Hinata blushing, and rested her cheek against Hinata's thigh.

"Is it okay?" she asked, fairly sure that the tinge of shock in Hinata's voice was from excitement, but this was Hinata's first time with another person. There were rules among kunoichi about making very sure that went as well as possible. The rules were no less absolute for being unwritten.

Hinata's fingers stroked shyly through her hair. "Yes. I'd like... yes."

Sakura smiled. "Okay, then." She nibbled on the tendon of Hinata's thigh, just to hear her gasp, and gently spread the folds of her open. She made a pleased sound herself as she dragged her tongue slowly against Hinata, soft and easy, and felt the tense-and-release of Hinata's muscles.

"Ohh..."

"Mmm." Sakura lapped slowly at her, until Hinata's hips were moving with her and she could taste the salt of Hinata's wetness. That was when she slid two fingers into her, and purred at Hinata's low moan.

"Nn... Sakura, oh... yes." The sleek flex of Hinata's muscles made Sakura breathless herself, and she lapped firmly at Hinata's clit as she worked her fingers in and out. Hinata's hands tugged and pushed at her shoulders, and Sakura attended those cues with the concentration she'd give a new jutsu, working Hinata higher and higher until she gasped and her whole body pulled taut. "Sakura!"

Sakura drove her fingers in deep and sucked on Hinata's clit, and Hinata came apart with a shudder, hips jerking against Sakura. Sakura shivered, listening to her breathless sounds, and lapped at her softly until Hinata collapsed back against the bed. Sakura knew that her smile was smug, as she eased her fingers free and slid back up to lie beside Hinata, but she felt that was justifiable.

Hinata smiled up at her, flushed and damp and nearly glowing in the dimness. "Thank you," she murmured.

Sakura laughed, blushing just a little herself, and kissed Hinata lightly. "It was very much my pleasure." And then her breath caught as Hinata's fingers stroked a delicate line between her breasts.

"Can I try, too?" Hinata asked, and the mixture of shyness and mischief in the way she glanced up at Sakura nearly made Sakura melt.

"Of course." She kissed Hinata again, and made a soft, pleased sound when Hinata kissed back. "I'd like that very much."

As Hinata kissed her more boldly, and Sakura leaned into it with a sigh, she made a mental note to have a little talk with Neji, if Sakura and Ino's suspicions turned out to be right. Just to be sure that he'd treat Hinata with all the care she deserved.

Kunoichi had to look out for each other, after all.

End

The Blue Lights, The Scent of Water

Four linked scenes of intimacy, during Frau and Teito's journeys. Teito is stubborn, Frau knows he's doomed, Mikhail snarks briefly. Mild spoilers through issue 61. Drama, Fluff, Romance, Porn, I-4

Translation into Deutsch available: Die Blauen Lichter, Der Geruch von Wasser by JanaTearce

A translation into Russian is available here, by Opossums

One

Frau leaned back on the hostel bed they'd secured for the night, every pillow in the room wadded behind his back, and lit a cigarette. They'd made it to Pirna by dark and the border and Neal were a day away. Capella was safe with his mother, no one was chasing them, and he'd gotten the shower first. Things were going about as well as could be expected.

He hadn't failed in the people under his care, yet, anyway. None of the ones that really mattered, at least.

Some days, especially lately, he felt like there were too many of those. But compared to most of the Church's bishops he had very few responsibilities. Host Zehel's spirit in his own. Keep Verloren's damn scythe contained. Protect Teito. Oh, and banish all the Kor he came across. Just a few, but they were heavy enough he didn't have room for any of the others more normal bishops carried. Not any more.

Well neither did the brat, come to that.

So, yeah, it was probably a good thing that he'd been the one sent out with Teito. Sure as hell no other bishop would understand what the kid was carrying on his shoulders. And Frau admitted it: it was good to be flying again. He'd felt so fucking grounded the last nine years, locked up in that cathedral.

The end of his cigarette glowed as he breathed in the rough heat of smoke, eyes distant. If he could just keep the brat safe, he'd almost feel like this trip was a good thing.

Teito emerged from the bathroom rubbing a towel over his head, with the spare one slung around his hips. "You're hogging the pillows," he accused Frau after one look. "Hand over mine."

Frau blew smoke at the ceiling. "Since I'm paying for the rooms," he mused, "I think they're actually all my pillows."

"The Church is paying, you leech. Gimme." Teito made to grab some of the pillows out from behind Frau, dodging his elbow. "Mortification of the flesh is supposed to be virtuous, isn't it? You're the bishop, act like it!"

"Since when do I give a shit about virtue?" Frau demanded, grabbing for those thieving hands.

Teito froze in his grip and his bared teeth slowly faded into a frown. "How long have you been sitting there in nothing but a towel?" The frown was turning into a real glare. "You've gotten cold again!" He stomped around the room pulling blankets out of the cupboard and threw them over Frau, tugging them roughly around him. Frau watched the performance with a certain sardonic amusement. Having Capella around had turned on the kid's mothering instincts for good, it looked like.

"You do realize that, without body heat to start with, these aren't going to do any good?" He took a drag on his cigarette, mouth quirked as Teito glared some more.

"Fine, then!"

Frau blinked as the kid marched over to the bed and slung a leg over Frau's thighs, settling firmly onto his lap. Teito pulled the blankets around both of them and gave Frau a look that dared him to object. "There."

Frau sighed. "You're too damn stubborn for anyone's good. It doesn't hurt or anything, you know."

"It isn't right," Teito said, low and fierce and not looking at him. "It isn't right for you to be cold."

Frau rested a hand on the kid's head, ruffling his hair. "Yeah, it is," he said quietly. "Because this is what I am."

Teito frowned at him. "Well...! Well, then, fine! But..." he wrapped his arms firmly around Frau's neck, "then this is warm too, isn't it?" He leaned in closer and brushed his lips over Frau's, unpracticed and unhesitating.

Frau stilled, eyes widening at that soft and completely unexpected pressure. "Wha..." He closed his hands on Teito's shoulders, moving him back a little. "Haven't you ever heard of a metaphor, you little maniac?" he demanded. All his damn church training was suddenly screaming in his ear. It was usually only the tedious rules about chastity that got him in trouble, and he didn't give a damn about those. But the one law about what a person got up to in his own bed that he agreed with wholeheartedly was that no one should ever, ever abuse the trust of the children sheltered by the Church.

Teito gave him one of those rare, clear-eyed looks that made Frau think maybe Castor hadn't been completely insane to nominate the kid as a bishop. "You're not dead," he stated, like it was a known fact, and shook his head as Frau opened his mouth to protest. "You died, but you're not dead. I've made a lot of dead bodies, Frau, and this," he put a hand flat against Frau's bare chest, "isn't like that. Your heart doesn't beat, but your blood still flows. You move and breathe, but you don't have any body heat. That's impossible." He gave Frau a look like the laws of physics were his personal fault. "So. You're a spirit-body, aren't you?"

Frau settled back. He was just a tiny bit impressed. Maybe. "That's pretty much what we figure, yeah. I mean, with the transforming into huge skeletons and all."

Teito nodded, satisfied. "I thought so. So, it isn't just physical heat that can help, right?"

Frau opened his mouth and closed it again. And here he'd thought they'd gotten safely onto theology and away from disturbingly warm kisses. "That doesn't mean..." He trailed off.

Teito smiled, smugly aware he'd won that point, the little shit. "Yes, it does." And he hauled off and kissed Frau again, more confident this time.

Frau got a hold of the kid's nape to pull him back, which... didn't actually help as much as it should, because Teito made an extremely distracting sound. "Look," Frau said as flatly as he could, "you're too young."

Teito arched both brows, clearly unimpressed. "It's the new year, right? So I'm sixteen." He prodded Frau in the chest with a finger. "What were you doing when you were sixteen, huh?"

From the way the kid suddenly smirked, Frau was pretty sure he'd turned a little red. He considered it evidence of a cruel universe that that still happened to a dead man. "Yeah, and maybe if I were sixteen, like the girls I was, yes, okay fine, sleeping with whenever I could escape the damn robes, that would mean something. So how about we just say I'm too old?" And why couldn't the brat have jumped his partner, like half the baby bishops always wound up doing once the exam heated up?

Teito folded his arms on Frau's chest and remarked. "Funny you should mention that. I asked Labrador-san, you know. Turns out you're only twenty."

Frau closed his eyes, silently cursing Labrador to... to... to an annoying leaf-wilt problem or something. "Teito..." He broke off, breath catching, because Teito had taken the opportunity to press up close against him, skin to skin. The kid really was warm.

"I want you to be warm," Teito said quietly against his ear. "And I want... to know what this is." He rested his temple against Frau's and muttered, "And I trust you, okay?"

Frau gave up and wrapped his arms around Teito, holding him tight and stomping as hard as he could on the stirring interest of the scythe. Sometimes the kid really did remind him so much of himself that it hurt. "You're an idiot."

It was time to deal with this logically, Frau told himself, ignoring the way he couldn't make himself let go. The brat really was sixteen, scrawniness notwithstanding, and that was the age of consent across the Empire. So the rules could shut up. The brat was also world-bendingly stubborn (and kind of unfairly cute when he wasn't growling and snapping like a bear after winter). So Frau needed a good reason, if he wanted to get out of this. Did he have a good reason? Did he want to get out of this?

Only silence answered that question, inside of him. Waiting silence.

Teito finally drew a shaky breath and pulled back enough to grin at him, almost as convincingly annoying as usual. "I mean, aren't you supposed to know all about this stuff? Or do you just talk a good line?"

Just because a man's heart wasn't beating any more didn't mean it couldn't squeeze tight. Frau hadn't loved all that terribly often, in his life, but he knew when someone was getting to him. This one... had gotten to him. His mouth quirked and he slid a hand up to cradle Teito's head. "Brat," he said, just a little husky.

For once, Teito didn't take a return shot. Just looked at him, eyes dark and questioning. Frau didn't know what the question was, or what answer Teito saw, but after a moment Teito smiled a little and leaned forward again. This time Frau kissed back, gentle and careful.

Frau had known from the moment he saw the kid move that Teito was trained, and trained to kill. Teito moved fast and sure and fluid, when he wasn't in a rage, always poised, always ready. The readiness had quieted slowly, over the last few months, and Frau had hoped it meant Teito was relaxing from that edge. Maybe he was, but now, feeling how long it took Teito to unwind as he settled against Frau's chest, Frau thought he still had a long way to go.

Which made him feel ridiculously fucking protective of the little brat.

So he kissed Teito slow and easy, with helplessly exasperated tenderness, until Teito was flushed and pressing close. Maybe it was just the heat of Teito's body against his, skin to skin under the blankets; or maybe it was the way Teito's tongue stroked over his and Teito sighed as he relaxed and stretched out against Frau's chest; or maybe it really was Teito's living heart touching his. Whatever the truth, Frau was warm again.

In fact, Frau might just have been a little flushed himself by the time Teito drew back and tucked his head down against Frau's shoulder. "You okay?" he asked, husky, running a hand slowly up and down Teito's back.

"Yeah," Teito answered softly, not moving. After a moment, Frau felt Teito's lips curve against his shoulder. "I guess you're not all talk. It might be nice to do that some more some time."

Frau snorted, trying to stifle the enthusiastic votes yes from both his cock and the scythe. "Damn brat."

"Now give me half those pillows."

Frau grinned against Teito's dark hair. "What if I say no?"

The fight for the pillows left the room a mess, but Frau had to admit it took care of any awkwardness.

Two

Frau had managed to kick Castor and Labrador out of his room in F3's frozen tourist trap by the time Teito was done with his bath, and had stretched out in his bed, arms folded behind his head. He watched the kid through half-closed eyes as Teito neatly and automatically folded and hung his towel and laid out his clothes for the next day of the race. He didn't look too much the worse for his encounter with the scythe, even though Frau's fingertips still tingled with the sensation of reaching into Teito's chest, stretching out after his bright soul.

Well, Frau had always known Teito was a tough little bastard, and too stubborn to quit.

Every inch of that stubbornness was in Teito's eyes as he pulled on his nightshirt and made for Frau's bed instead of his own. Frau stiffened. "Teito..."

"Shut up," Teito told him, burrowing under the blankets and wrapping around Frau like one of Labrador's climbing vines. "You're an idiot, you know that? The more I think about it, the more obvious it is."

Frau breathed in and out, carefully, holding down the leap of the scythe's hunger. "Are you actually trying to get eaten?" he bit out. "After you saw yourself what can happen..."

Teito pushed himself up on one elbow, glaring. "I told you! I'll pull you out of that scythe as many times as it takes! So quit using it as an excuse!"

"Excuse?!" Frau was glaring now, too. "Listen, brat—" He had to break off, jaw tight, and fight down another surge of hunger from the scythe. It growled silently, nearly drooling in Teito's direction.

As if he could hear it, Teito growled back. His right hand flashed over to clamp tight on Frau's forearm, over the name incised there. "You," Teito said, low and cold and deadly, "back off." A flicker of red shone around his hand for one breath, and Teito's grip tightened. "He's mine."

That was outrageous enough that Frau opened his mouth to protest. His jaw just hung there, though, when the scythe grudgingly settled under Teito's hand. "What the fuck?"

Teito's grip eased a little and he glanced aside. "Mikhail," he muttered. "There's still a connection even when we're apart. I guess I don't have to do anything formal, when I really need him."

That did, actually, explain a few things. Just not the one about why Frau should mean enough for Teito to risk stressing his soul that way. "And you have the nerve to say I'm an idiot," Frau scolded, closing his other hand on Teito's nape to shake him. Teito shrugged and looked up again with a tiny smile.

"It was important," he insisted, completely unabashed.

"Important, huh?" Frau narrowed his eyes, an expression that sent lowlife of all kinds running in terror and had no effect whatsoever on Teito. Damn it. He tried another tack. "And what's this about me being yours?"

Teito lifted his chin stubbornly. "You are. My bishop. My mentor. Mine, not the scythe's!"

Frau let his head fall back against the pillow, groaning. "Fuck. And I always thought Castor was joking when he said God would punish me some day."

Teito pressed close again, arms wound around Frau's shoulders. "I'm sure He'll get to it eventually."

Frau's mouth quirked and he slid a hand into Teito's hair. "Think He has already." He sighed, more or less resigned to being the kid's pillow and just glad that Teito hadn't gotten all metaphysical about warming Frau up again. Castor really would break in and try to strangle him, then.

On the other hand, it was awfully cold out there, and temper was supposed to heat people up too, right? Frau smirked at the ceiling for a moment before reaching down to lift Teito's chin and kiss him, light and gentle. He forgot the part about yanking Castor's chain for a moment as Teito relaxed against him, eyes softening as he smiled up at Frau.

"Go to sleep, brat," Frau said quietly.

Teito made an agreeable sound and snuggled down into the blankets and Frau, and a completely helpless smile tugged at Frau's mouth.

It turned wide and wicked a moment later, when he heard faint, muffled yelling over the sound of the storm outside, rather as if some manipulative bastard of a bishop was losing his grip and being wrapped up in ice roses by his partner to keep him from breaking in.

Frau closed his eyes, still smirking, and composed himself to sleep.

Three

Frau was aware of all the reasons that restoring the Eye of Mikhail to Teito was necessary, both for Teito and for the rest of the world. He didn't exactly regret it.

But the first time he looked down at Teito, curled up against him in bed, to see a pair of vastly unimpressed red eyes glaring up at him, he swore his heart started beating against just so it could stop.

"You," Mikhail declared, as if it were the worst insult possible. "You have been taking liberties with my master."

That was unfair enough to snap Frau out of his shock. "I damn well have not! Do you have any idea how stubborn the brat is? It's all I could do to convince him he's still too small to be fucked by someone my size!"

Mikhail tossed the covers back and looked him up and down disdainfully, which was the kind of thing that could give a man a complex. "Hmph." He settled back against the pillows like they were a throne, crossing Teito's arms sulkily. "Well, since you seem to belong to my master now, I suppose I won't do anything about this." He held up a finger and eyed Frau sternly. "As long as you don't get above yourself!"

And then he was gone, and it was Teito's eyes staring up at him again.

Teito, who promptly dissolved into laughter. "Your face!" he managed.

Frau sputtered. He couldn't help it. "Belong to you?" he demanded, outraged. "The cat-eyed bastard doesn't mind as long as I don't get above myself?!" His voice was echoing off the walls. Teito was still laughing, collapsed among the pillows with his arms wrapped around his stomach. Frau gave him a dour look. "And if you think you're getting anything out of me tonight..."

Teito caught his breath and crawled into Frau's lap, grinning. "Would that count as getting above yourself, if you don't do what I want you to do?" he asked, winding his arms around Frau's shoulders.

Frau growled and flipped them over, pinning Teito to the bed under him. "...show you 'above myself'..." He caught that laughing mouth and kissed Teito deep and hard.

Of course, given the breathy sounds Teito made and the way he arched up against Frau, that might have been the whole idea. "Mmm. Frau." Teito wrapped his legs around Frau's hips and rubbed his ass against Frau's cock.

"Not until you're five inches taller, goddamnit," Frau gasped, and tried not to show his response when Teito growled. If the brat ever realized just how close he was to getting his way, Frau knew he'd be doomed. And the fact was, Teito was way too impatient to keep from hurting himself, so Frau was the one who had to have self control for both of them.

Frau expected a goddamn sainthood out of this, he really did.

Fortunately, Teito was also pretty distractible, as long as you came up a good enough alternative. Frau slid down his body, tracing the hard muscles of Teito's stomach with his tongue by way of suggestion. He grinned when Teito let his legs fall back to the bed with a pleased sigh. Teito wasn't actually unreasonable in bed; he just had a knee-jerk reaction to being told he couldn't do something. Frau actually kind of sympathized, at least when the brat wasn't driving him crazy.

Which was why, when he closed his mouth around Teito's cock, he didn't tease, just sucked wet and hard until Teito's hips came up off the bed. Frau smiled around him a little and flicked his tongue back and forth over Teito's head. Teito moaned, hands working hard against Frau's shoulders, and rocked up into Frau's mouth.

It was always moments like these that made Frau reconsider his "not for five inches" rule. Teito was pretty well developed, and there wasn't an inch of childish softness anywhere on his body. When the weight of Teito's cock was sliding over his tongue it was a little hard to remember why he kept insisting they wait.

"Frau," Teito gasped, body pulling taut. Frau made an approving sound and sucked Teito down all the way, and swallowed slowly around him. The cut-off moan that answered as Teito came undone, shuddering under him, would have made him purr except his mouth was full. So he just thought it.

Well, that and smiled smugly down at Teito once he'd kissed his way back up his body, head propped up on one hand. Teito laughed, breathless. "You look like one of the cathedral cats who just stole fish from the fountain," he told Frau.

"I got you to stop arguing," Frau pointed out. "I think that's pretty damn impressive, myself."

"So why are you reminding me of it again now?" Teito wanted to know, reaching up to trace his fingers over Frau's mouth.

Frau smiled wickedly. "Never said I didn't think the arguing was fun."

Teito growled, and locked one leg around his and flipped them over. Frau smirked up at him, folding his arms behind his head. "Yeah? Something to add?"

"I think so, yes." Teito's eyes glinted down at him, and then he was sliding down Frau's body and pushing his legs apart to settle between them. The look he gave Frau as he leaned over was nearly as wicked as the one Frau'd given him.

Frau managed to stay relaxed and casual right up until Teito's mouth closed on him, and then he had to grab for the headboard. It was the same every time and he never got used to the heat of a living mouth. If fire could be slick and wet, it was like having fire slide down his cock, and Teito took his time about it. Frau moaned, low and open, and rocked up a little; Teito moved with him, lips wrapped just around Frau's head. Frau swore, breathless, and Teito snickered.

Evil little bastard was learning Castor's sense of humor.

When Teito finally slid his mouth further down, Frau shuddered. The heat, the life, the intensity of it were like nothing else, and the strength of Teito's hand working up and down his cock, slick and confident, felt like the only thing anchoring him to the world.

"Teito," Frau gasped, warning. He never lasted long when they did this. Teito drew back reluctantly, tongue flicking over him one last time.

"Mm. Just think what it would be like if you were inside me," he murmured thoughtfully, hand stroking hard down Frau's cock.

Frau couldn't quite help thinking, about heat and tightness, and the headboard creaked under his hands as pleasure hammered through him. "Teito...!"

When he caught his breath, the brat was still laughing. "I'll have to try that again," he grinned, elbows braced across Frau's chest. Frau growled and hauled him down to a rough kiss that Teito leaned into readily.

A fucking sainthood, Frau swore.

Four

It hadn't been Frau's idea, the first time he wound up in bed with Teito Klein. It hadn't been his idea to start sharing a bed, whether they did anything more interesting with it than sleep or not. It had been his idea to teach the kid how to use his hands and mouth, but only in self defense. Because the biggest thing that wasn't his idea was actually fucking someone as slight as Teito with what was, no undue modesty, a damn big cock. He'd held tight to a rule of "not until you're five inches taller" and insisted that he was not going to fuck someone who didn't at least come up to his chin.

Teito had pouted. He'd called Frau a chicken. He'd done some really, really unfair things with his mouth and asked Frau again immediately afterward. And eventually he'd gotten quiet and looked up at Frau all clear-eyed and said, "Please".

Which was how Frau had come to be leaning back against a handful of pillows with Teito straddling his lap and lying against his chest while Frau rubbed slow, gentle fingers between his cheeks. "We're taking this slow, understand?" he murmured against Teito's hair.

Teito nodded against his shoulder, arms tightening a little around his neck. "I know. I won't push."

Frau's lips quirked; he didn't trust that to last very long at all. It was a good start, though. "Okay. Try to stay relaxed, then." He dipped his fingers in the jar of gel he'd wedged against their pillows, because he'd damn well bought economy size this time, and circled his fingers over Teito's entrance, slow and hard. Teito's muscles clenched and gradually relaxed as he breathed out. Frau kept his fingers moving slow and easy, and after a few more breaths Teito gave a soft moan. Frau took a tighter grip on his self-control and pressed a finger into Teito.

Teito's muscles tightened again sharply, and Frau waited for him to relax again before moving. "All right?" he asked quietly, stroking that one finger inside Teito.

"Yeah." Teito sounded a little breathless. "Yeah, it's okay."

"How does it feel?" Frau pressed, because if Teito was uncomfortable with the length of his finger, he'd need to hold himself back hard from thrusting into the kid later.

A breath of a laugh, and another quick clench of muscles. "It feels like you." After a moment, Teito added, "I like feeling you."

Frau closed his eyes and pressed his mouth against Teito's hair. He'd long ago given himself up for lost. Teito had gotten to him, all the way into him, right down to the heart. Just knowing didn't mean it wasn't new and terrifyingly warm, though, every time Teito said something like that. "Glad for that," he said, husky. Teito looked up at him with a small smile and flushed cheeks, and Frau smiled back wryly. "Ready for more?"

Teito nodded and laid his head back down on Frau's shoulder, breathing in and out and deliberately relaxing. Frau gathered him up a little closer and pressed a second finger in. It went easily, and Teito made a low sound that Frau was pretty damn sure wasn't discomfort. He worked them in and out slowly, and Teito stretched against him a little, muscles working around his fingers easily now. He could feel Teito was half hard against him, and spent a moment breathing deeply himself.

"Mmm." Teito pushed his hips against Frau's. "Frau..."

"Yeah, okay." Frau pulled out carefully and scooped up more of the gel. "Tell me if it hurts at all, right?"

"I will," Teito promised, and Frau could just about hear him rolling his eyes. He snorted softly and pulled Teito close, so he could listen to his body as well as his words, and pushed three fingers into his ass. It was tight, and Frau went very slow, listening to each hitch in Teito's breath, waiting out each clench of his muscles. Eventually, though, his fingers were all the way in and Teito was moaning softly against his shoulder.

"Frau, move."

"Pushy," Frau muttered, a bit husky. But he did as Teito asked, sliding his fingers out to the knuckle and then slowly back in. And again. Teito moaned every time his fingers slid all the way home, and Frau was starting to wonder if he was going to have to eat his words because it sure as hell sounded like Teito really liked being stretched open hard. And it felt like he could take it.

"Not pushy," Teito panted. "Just... ohh... want to feel you." He ground his hips against Frau's and they both groaned.

"Fuck, all right, you win, okay?" Frau kissed the start of a grin off Teito's mouth, fiercely, and Teito wound his arms tighter around Frau's neck and kissed back, eyes dark and half closed. Frau groped for the gel again, still kissing Teito, and slicked it over his cock. Teito obligingly slid up a little, and Frau's arm tightened around him. "Slow," he growled against Teito's mouth, guiding his cock against Teito.

Teito huffed, but let Frau set their pace. His head tipped back and he gasped sharply as Frau started to push in. "Ahh... oh..." His arms tightened as Frau hesitated. "Don't stop."

Frau, already breathing hard with the burn of pleasure down his nerves, clenched his jaw and pushed up into Teito bit by tiny bit. And then he was in, sliding in smoothly, and Teito's gasps turned into a throaty moan. The alarming tightness of his body eased and he lay against Frau's chest panting as Frau pressed most of the way in.

"You okay?" Frau managed, husky, holding him tight, lightheaded with the burning heat of Teito's body.

"Mm, yeah." Teito slowly pushed himself upright against Frau's chest, lips parted as he settled down a little further onto Frau. "Oh..."

Frau swore fervently, hands tight on Teito's hips, and Teito grinned breathlessly at him, the little bastard. "I am going to be so glad when you are five goddamn inches taller," Frau growled, "so that I can pound your ass into the mattress like you fucking well deserve." In lieu of that, he flexed his hips slow and hard, drawing back and driving up into Teito again, careful not to push in too far. Teito lost the grin, at least, as he clutched Frau's shoulders and moaned out loud.

"Feels good," Teito breathed as Frau fucked him slowly. "Hard..."

And, yeah, Frau could feel how hard Teito was stretched around him, and it was driving him a little crazy to have all that living, branding heat locked so tight around him. "Teito..."

Teito arched over him and sighed, eyes half closed as he pushed down to meet Frau, and Frau groaned. One of these days, he swore, the kid really was going to kill him.

Today, though, was his first time doing this, and Frau knew going too long would be a mistake. So he stroked a hand down the leanness of Teito's body to wrap around his cock and pump it slow and hard.

"Ahh!" Teito's hands clenched on Frau's shoulders again, and Frau watched him, drinking in the life and brilliance of him, the abandon as Teito rocked wantonly between his hand and his cock. The way his name spilled from Teito's lips made something hot and possessive tighten through him. When Teito's body finally clamped down around him, he growled, driving up into that tightness with short, hungry thrusts until pleasure raked him over the edge.

When the fire finally stopped wringing his nerves out, Frau gathered Teito back down against him and eased carefully out. Teito winced, and Frau rubbed a hand up and down his back. "Okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," Teito answered, just as soft. And then he poked Frau in the chest. "And it didn't hurt."

Frau snorted and slid his hand down to cup Teito's ass gently. "If you can ride the damn hawkzile tomorrow and still say that, I'll be impressed." He could feel Teito's face heat against his shoulder and chuckled, threading his fingers into Teito's hair. "I'm a little impressed already," he admitted.

Teito glanced up with a rare, unguarded smile, bright and sweet. Frau held him closer and tried not to self-evidently melt into a puddle of pathetic gooeyness.

Teito would seriously be the death of him, some day. Frau was becoming increasingly sure of this, and not in a metaphorical way, because life was a bastard like that.

For as long as he had, though, Frau would stay close to the pure warmth and insane stubbornness of Teito's heart, and be grateful.

End

Come Along With Me

Teito really wishes he could get Frau to stop being quite so overprotective. For the Oh My God We Need Some Porn in here Stat meme, and the prompt Frau/Teito, size difference. Porn, Fluff, I-4

Teito really liked going to bed with Frau. It was hot and alive, and if it was strange that he'd found those things with a technically dead man... well, no one knew better than he did that life was weird that way.

Now if he could just work Frau past his over-protectiveness.

Teito moaned into Frau's mouth as long, strong fingers slid deeper into his ass, and nipped at Frau's lower lip. "Frau, come on."

"Teito..."

He could already tell, just from the tone, that Frau was about to insist on preparing him for longer, and glared. "Shut up." Teito wrapped his legs around Frau's hips and rocked up against him hard. He smiled when Frau forgot to be careful for a moment and ground down to meet him, pinning Teito against the bed with his weight, one hand closed tight on his ass.

"Nngh..." Frau glared back at him, eyes dilated and dark. "Damn it, brat."

Teito grinned, rubbing up against the hard line of Frau's cock. "Come on and fuck me," he half coaxed and half demanded. "Fuck me now."

Frau growled and kissed him, deep and hot, and Teito relaxed. Now they were getting somewhere. He let Frau lay him back against the sheets, because he really did know that he had to be relaxed to take Frau in. He made a husky sound at the blunt, thick press of Frau's cock between his cheeks, the promise of it, and, when Frau hesitated, he looked up and murmured, "Please."

Frau gave in, the way he almost always did when Teito asked like that, and pushed into him slowly, eyes sharp on Teito's face.

Teito tossed his head back and moaned openly, hands working against Frau's shoulders. "Yes... oh yes... Frau..." His breath was broken into gasps by how fiercely Frau's cock stretched his body, so intense he wondered every time if he'd be able to take it for long enough. And then, every time, the stretch turned into a hot slide into his ass, and feeling the hardness of Frau inside him, holding him open, made him shudder. "God, Frau, this," he panted. "This, please, fuck me."

And however he complained about Frau's over-protectiveness, he liked the feeling of Frau's arms gathering him up and holding him while Frau's cock worked in and out of him. Sheer sensation washed away the rest of the world; he couldn't think of anything except how big Frau was inside him, the sharp flare of heat every time Frau drove in again, the flex of Frau's hard muscles under his hands, the tenderness of one large hand cradling his head. When the other hand closed around his cock, sure and strong, Teito moaned openly at the pleasure tightening his whole body.

When he came and heat wrung his body hard around the unyielding thickness of Frau's cock, Teito couldn't even moan, only gasp open mouthed. It went on and on, until the edges of Teito's vision started to close in, and even when the intensity snapped and drained away he was still full of Frau. And that was good.

Frau wasn't long behind him, and Teito sprawled under him with a satisfied smile as Frau fucked him with hard, short strokes and finally stilled over him, shuddering. He reached up to pull Frau down against him before Frau could decide he was too heavy. Teito liked Frau's weight holding him against the bed.

Frau smiled down at him wryly, eyes laughing as he panted for breath. "One of these days, brat, you're going to get yourself into trouble."

"So maybe that's what I like," Teito pointed out, reaching up to brush Frau's hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah, okay." Frau kissed his forehead gently. "Just... try not to go looking for it, okay?"

Teito smiled up at him. "Only with you," he promised.

From the rueful quirk to Frau's lips, he thought he might finally have gotten through this time.

End

To the Silver Night Sky

After one possible end to canon, Frau discovers that Ghosts tend to get stuck in Tenkai for a while. On the bright side, this means Gido is still around. Adorableness ensues. Also a good deal of sex. Drama, Fluff, Angst, Porn, I-4

In Frau's considered opinion, Heaven sucked.

He'd been here for most of a day, as near as he could tell, stalking around endless gardens. It was like someone had turned Labrador loose and told him to knock himself out.

He was trying not to think about Labrador, or Castor, or anyone else, but the flowers made it kind of hard to avoid Labrador-thoughts.

And there were people here. Other souls, he guessed. But none of them had approached him, he didn't recognize anyone, and he really wasn't in the mood to chat up distracted looking strangers. The melodious birdsong was getting on his nerves, too. His hands felt too light, without his scythe.

But Zehel was gone, now, and the scythe with him. He could feel that much, that stunning weight lifted from the center of his soul. It should probably feel like freedom, but right at the moment it felt more like failure.

He finally slumped down onto the lip of a fountain, hands dangling between his knees. He was dead. Teito wasn't. He was pretty sure Castor and Labrador weren't. That was good.

What the fuck did he do now though?

"Here you are. Been looking all over for you, brat."

Frau jerked like he'd just touched a live wire; that was kind of what it felt like. He knew that voice, or he had a long time ago. Slowly he looked up, hands closing tight on his knees.

There was a man standing in the entrance to this garden, elbow propped up on the ornamental gate. Tall and lean and powerful with black hair and a wry smile with a cigarette dangling from one corner of it. Frau had to swallow twice before he could speak.

"Gido?"

"Large as life," the man said easily. "Figured I should come find you. Give you a chance to get the yelling over with early."

"Yelling?" Frau echoed, husky. Slowly he stood up, almost stumbling as he stepped forward.

Gido lifted his brows. "I was figuring, yeah. For having died. For dropping Zehel in your lap." He blew out a stream of smoke, looking thoughtful. "Damned if I know who's going to take it up now; I don't even know who else is alive, from our House. So, yeah. You can go ahead and yell." Frau just stared at him, completely at a loss, brain spinning with memories he'd tried to put away to keep old pain from eating him hollow. "Or maybe not," Gido finally said quietly. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it, and held out a hand. "C'mere, kid."

He dragged Frau close, and oh god he was warm, warm, and solid when Frau wrapped his arms around him. Frau was shaking, throat tight, and something alarmingly close to a sob ripped out of him when Gido's hand settled on his head and ruffled his hair like he used to. Frau buried his head in Gido's shoulder, level with his own now, just to make it all even stranger. "You fucking idiot," he gasped, raggedly, swept up in old pain that swamped the new. "You should have run! Why the hell didn't you run when they came?!"

"Ah, there's the yelling." Gido sounded amused, a little indulgent, so familiar it nearly broke Frau. Gido sighed, settling a hand on the back of Frau's neck. "If I'd run, I wouldn't have been me," he said simply. And then he shook Frau gently. "And don't try to tell me you'd have done any differently if it had been you in charge of the ship. You never ran when you were shepherding Tiashe around the Empire with the entire military on your trail."

Frau lifted his head and glared. "That was different! That was to keep Verloren from awakening, and he was Pandora's Box and I was Zehel for fuck's sake! There was no way out of it."

Gido gave him that faint smile with the steel edge that meant he wasn't going to let Frau bullshit on this one. "And you wouldn't have run even if there had been a way."

Frau's eyes fell under that piercing look. Gido snorted softly. "We can't watch all the time, but I've kept an eye on you when I could, Frau." He chuckled. "Might even have said a few prayers for Bastien, after he picked you up."

Frau flinched.

"Frau." Gido's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Don't let the end of that make you forget everything that came before. He loved you. And you saved him." Quietly he added, "I'm grateful to him for looking after the last of my crew." And then he pulled Frau's head down to his shoulder again, which was good, because more tears were forcing their way out. Frau had forgotten how easily Gido could undo him, how clearly this man had always seen him.

They ended up sitting in one of the mossy nooks by the fountain, boots and coats getting a little tangled up because Frau couldn't quite bring himself to let go. Gido just smiled and settled Frau against his shoulder. Eventually Frau cleared his throat. "So. You stayed up here?"

"Mm." Gido ruffled his fingers absently through Frau's hair. "Yeah, about that. Most souls can turn right around, if that's what they want, but those who have been Ghosts... well, it takes a while to wash that out for most of us. Asyl, the Zehel before me, she's almost ready to go back down I think."

Frau shot upright and stared at him. "I'm stuck here?!"

Gido's smile tilted ruefully. "Figured that was the next bit you'd yell about, yeah."

"But... but... Teito!"

"He's got Mikhail plus the master of Raphael to help him, doesn't he?" The smile spread into a grin. "She reminds me of Magdalena, a little. Only scarier."

"But...!"

"And every last one of the God Houses owes him, and knows it," Gido added. "Last I saw, it looked like the Oaks, in particular, were on his side."

"But...!"

Gido gave Frau a level look. "Frau. You protected him. You kept him alive. You were why he remembered a lot about love. But your part down there is done for now. And," he added practically, "it would be anyway, even if you could turn right around. You really want to wait to grow up again, all antsy and not remembering why?"

Frau let himself fall back against Gido's shoulder with a deliberate thud. "You don't have to have an answer for everything right away, you know," he grumbled.

Gido laughed, wrapping an arm more firmly around him. "What else was I supposed to spend my own time here doing, besides thinking? Well," he allowed, softening, "that and missing you."

Frau ducked his head a little, feeling very young again and a little flustered to hear that from his mentor and leader.

Gido's hand slipped down his neck, thumb running over his choker. "So you kept this, huh?"

And that reminded Frau sharply that he really wasn't all that young any more, because the brush of Gido's fingers over his throat sent a shot of heat right down his spine. Gido's brows rose at the faint sound Frau couldn't quite keep back. His fingers traced over the line of the choker again, slower this time and more deliberate. Frau's chin lifted helplessly as another husky sound caught in his throat.

Gido's mouth quirked up at one corner and Frau swallowed a little nervously. Gido was a good man, a kind one, and Frau's personal model for honor and compassion. But there was no denying he also had a wicked sense of humor. "Gido..."

"Well, that's certainly one way to get you settled down, here." Gido bent his head and dragged his tongue up the line of Frau's throat. The slow, wet warmth made Frau gasp, hand fisting tight in Gido's coat. His head was tipped back again, and he couldn't remember doing that but he wasn't going to complain when Gido was tracking open-mouthed kisses back down his throat and over his chest... and when the hell had Gido gotten Frau's coat undone?

"Gido..." he tried again, though it came out husky and breathless as Gido eased him down against the sun-warmed moss and settled his weight over him.

"Yeah?" Gido asked, leaning on his elbows while he carded his fingers through Frau's hair.

Frau wet his lips, looking up at him. He couldn't deny that he'd had a few dreams that went kind of like this, and when he finally spoke what he said was, "Lose the coat?"

Gido laughed. "That's my Frau."

Frau closed his eyes. "Always," he admitted, softly. At that, Gido's hands closed around his face and Gido kissed him, slow and gentle.

One benefit of dressing the way they both did was that it took less time to get out of. The boots took the longest, because by that time Gido had gone back to nipping and sucking on Frau's throat which made fireworks run right down his spine to his cock and distracted him thoroughly from the buckles. When they were finally both bare, Frau pressed close, winding himself around Gido and drinking in his slow kisses as Gido's hands stroked soothingly down his back. They were so familiar, those hands, that touch, just... not quite this way around. It stunned Frau to realize he'd even shaped his behavior in bed after his captain, his hero, and done it without Gido ever touching him like this before. He had to bury his head against Gido's shoulder and laugh for a while over that. "Always," he whispered again, and Gido's arms tightened around him hard and strong.

"I'm proud of you," he said quietly against Frau's hair. When Frau pressed closer with a soft sound, he set his fingers under Frau's chin and lifted it, kissing him slow and deep. "So proud of you." He ran a hand slowly down Frau's body. "You never left us behind. You kept the laws of your people in your heart all your life." He wrapped a hand around Frau's cock and stroked him, strong and sure. "Don't ever believe you failed us Frau. You never did."

Frau was shaking in the curve of Gido's arm, wide eyed and shocked by the warmth of Gido's words twining around the hot pleasure of his touch. "Gido...!" He was clinging to Gido's shoulders, overwhelmed like he never had been with any other lover. Gido smiled down at him, that very same smile he'd given Frau when Gido had first accepted him on board, and Frau arched up against him, moaning as he came completely undone. Heat tore through him, and Frau shuddered with it, trusting himself blindly to the hands that held him and worked him through it.

When he finally stilled, panting against Gido's shoulder, Gido stroked his hair back and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I've wanted to tell you that for a long time," he murmured.

Frau stirred and smiled up at him. He'd wanted to hear that for a long time; he hadn't realized quite how much. "Thank you."

Gido gathered him a little closer, and held him quietly as Frau lay against him in the boneless warmth of the garden. Eventually the faint sound of Gido's heartbeat eased Frau into a doze.

When Frau woke up again, for a second he didn't remember where he was.

And then he did. Teito, Castor, Labrador, no...

Arms tightened around him when he flinched, and a strong hand slid up his back to knead his neck. "Easy, Frau. Easy."

"Gido." At least that part was real too.

"Right here." There was a grin in Gido's voice as he added, "Done with your beauty nap?"

Frau growled and gave him a shove, which just made Gido laugh.

"Well, in that case, maybe you want to get cleaned up?" Gido sat up and brushed at the flower petals stuck to his chest. "The flowers do kind of get everywhere," he muttered.

"Is there actually such a thing as a shower around here?" Frau wanted to know, rather skeptical. "I haven't seen a damn thing but gardens, fountains, and more gardens since I got here."

Gido's smile curled up in a way that made Frau instantly wary. "I'm sure we can find something that will work."

When he led Frau, through a few more gardens, to what apparently passed for a bath in Heaven, Frau had to just stare for a while. "This place is fucking nuts," he finally stated.

"It's Heaven, it goes a little overboard sometimes," Gido said easily, tossing his boots under one of the benches.

"A little?!"

They were standing at the edge of an insane cross between a fountain, a hot spring, and a reception hall. There were pools and pillars, steam and miniature waterfalls, basins of soap and towels and jars and bottles and (of course) flowers scattered all over.

"Quit being such a wuss and come scrub off," Gido ordered, wading into a pool with water spilling down from a spout shaped like a fucking dragon's mouth, and that was just disturbing. Frau glared, but followed after him.

"Who thought all this up?" he grumbled, ducking under the spout for a moment. He picked up a sponge a little dubiously, but that, at least, seemed to just be a normal sponge.

"You get used to it."

Frau paused, staring at the falling water for a moment, because Gido's voice seemed softer than it needed to be. "Gido—"

Arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him back against Gido's chest. "You'll never get clean at this rate," Gido murmured in his ear. "Want some help?" A soapy cloth, rough and nubbly under the suds, ran down his chest.

"Gido," Frau muttered, face a little hot. "For fuck's sake, I'm not a little kid."

"Mm, you know, I noticed that." Gido's hand, covered by the cloth, slid between Frau's legs, over his cock, to cup his balls gently.

"Fuck." Frau leaned back against Gido, breath suddenly short again. Gido just laughed, softly.

"Turn around, I'll get your back."

Frau thought that was backward, but he turned around anyway, and understood when Gido pulled Frau up tight against him. The cloth did scrub over his back, though, and Frau gave in and bent his head, laughing against Gido's shoulder. Slowly he ran his hands, and the sponge, over Gido's back in turn, tracing long, lean muscle and bone. They really were built a lot alike. Not surprising, he supposed, for two of the same House, no matter how wild and scattered that House was. He wondered who would be Zehel now, and whether they would get along with Castor and Labrador. Whether Zehel would protect Teito and that little firebrand Ouka, and their personal Oak, Hakuren.

"You're thinking too much," Gido said against his ear, and Frau gasped as the cloth slid down to rub slow and hard between his cheeks.

Frau leaned against him, hands splayed against Gido's back, and moaned as a finger pressed into him, wrapped in the wet roughness of the cloth. The sensation, the soft-and-rough texture pushing inside him, turned his legs shaky, and he was glad when Gido eased them both down to their knees in the heat of the water. "Stop worrying about the world," Gido murmured to him. "You're done with that responsibility for now."

"But everyone," Frau started, only to gasp as Gido gathered him closer and worked his fingers deeper into him.

"You love them," Gido whispered against his ear. "You saved them. You served them well, and now it's time to trust them, Frau."

Frau wrapped his arms around Gido's chest, panting against his shoulder. "I do," he insisted, ragged as Gido worked the cloth slowly in his ass.

"Then miss them," Gido told him gently. "But don't fear for them." He drew his hand and the cloth back, and Frau slumped against him, breathless.

"Will it really be all right?" he asked, low, and Gido took his face in both hands, dripping warm water as he lifted Frau's head to meet his eyes.

"It will be all right," he answered with such absolute certainty that Frau couldn't help but believe him. Frau nodded a little, accepting his leader's judgement, and Gido kissed him warm and easy. "Come on."

Frau was still just a little shaky around the knees, which Gido, predictably, took as an opportunity to draw him close again as they dried off. "Notice you kept this too," Gido murmured, leaning in to close his teeth lightly on the ear cuff Frau had inherited and tug gently.

Frau leaned against him with a soft moan, eyes half closed. "Fuck, Gido..."

"Well of course; you didn't think we were done yet, did you?" There was a definite gleam in Gido's eyes, and Frau thought about the way Gido had just cleaned him and had to swallow.

"Why?" he finally asked, quietly. Gido didn't pretend not to understand, just smiled and ruffled his fingers through Frau's drying hair.

"Because you need the distraction." His teeth flashed in a grin. "And because you've grown up very nicely." His hands slid down Frau's back to grip his ass and pull him in tighter, and Frau went because, really, he was pretty damn willing to be distracted now and figure out what he was being distracted from later. Teito had put his finger right on the truth, that one night; Gido had been like a god to Frau. Frau had loved Bastien, but it was Gido he'd dreamed about. Being bent over on his knees under Gido, in a muddle of velvety grass and wet towels, had him light-headed and panting even before long, strong fingers spread his ass.

When Gido's tongue dragged slowly over his entrance, response tightened so hard through Frau that he thought he might come from this alone. Gido was taking his time, tongue circling lazily, wet and hot and soft, until Frau was gasping against the towels and pushing back against Gido's hands. When he finally pushed his tongue into Frau, opening him up, Frau could only clutch at the grass and moan. It was good, soft and strong and hot, but it also made him hungry for more.

"Gido," he gasped, pushing back against him and shivering when Gido's hands tightened to hold him still.

"Mm." Slow thumbs worked circles over his ass. "More already?" Gido purred, teasing.

"Fuck yes, please." Frau made a low, wanting sound in his throat as Gido's cock pushed into him, hard and slow and slick with something. Probably from one of the goddamn bottles and jars around here, and oh god, ten years from now would Frau know what was in all of them too? He didn't want to think about that.

Fortunately, there were better things to concentrate on.

"Gido, fuck me," he half begged and half ordered, rocking back into the slow slide of Gido's cock. Gido laughed.

"Demanding, aren't you?" But his grip on Frau's hips shifted and he thrust into Frau so hard Frau saw stars.

"Yes," he moaned as Gido took him at his word and fucked him hard and sure. Gido was not a small man, and the burn of being stretched and filled by him ran down Frau's nerves sweet and hot. It was here and now and perfect, even if here was a bunch of fucking impossible gardens and he'd thought now was too late. It was hope, ground into his skin with every thrust, every stroke of Gido's hands down his ribs, that he'd come back to this, to this man, and maybe that meant the rest of his life and love wasn't gone forever either.

"It's all right, Frau." Gido's voice was husky and breathless, now. "It's all right. Let go." His hand wrapped around Frau's cock, strong and sure, and he drove into Frau's ass hard enough to lift him up off his knees. "Let go. You know I'll catch you."

The words raced through him like lightning, bright and wild, an explosion when they hit the building fire of body-pleasure. Frau cried out with the shock of it as sweetness scythed through him, so sharp it almost cut. It wrung his body out like a rag until he could barely breathe, only shudder with the force of it, of his response to Gido's care. Gido's low, vibrant moan answered him, deep as a kiss, and Frau gasped as Gido thrust hard into him and stilled.

"Fuck," Gido sighed, finally, and Frau could only make a wordless noise of agreement. He collapsed on the towels as Gido drew back and let him down, ass throbbing very pleasantly. The brush of Gido's lips over the back of his neck made him bend his head, shivering softly. Gido's hand stroked down his back, gentle.

"Too bad you weren't that quick to follow my orders back on the Aegis," he teased lightly.

Frau stirred and turned his head to look up at him, mouth quirking. "I always obeyed you."

Gido snorted and reached over to fish two cigarettes out of his coat pocket, offering one to Frau. "Bullshit."

Frau stole his lighter and sucked in a slow breath of smoke. "It's true," he insisted as Gido snatched the lighter back and cuffed him lightly. "I yelled at you and argued with you and called you every name I ever learned, when you were being stupid. But I never disobeyed you, once you actually gave an order."

Gido looked down at him for a long moment. "Yeah," he finally said softly, fingers sliding through Frau's hair. "I know." When he pulled Frau close again, Frau went willingly, content for a while to just soak up the warmth of being here, of being with Gido once again.

He figured they'd probably get around to the yelling again in time, but for now this was much better.

Eventually, after another couple cigarettes and another dunk in the crazed baths, they finally got around to getting dressed again. Frau thought about that for a while, leaning against Gido's knees. Gido was sprawled back on the marble edge of a fountain, which made a handy bench Frau supposed, but Frau had settled on the much softer grass at his feet. It had been a while since he'd been fucked that hard, after all. Besides, this meant Gido was combing his fingers slowly through Frau's hair, and Frau kind of wanted that comfort while he thought.

He thought he might know what Gido had been doing for the last few hours, and his guess warmed him and, at the same time, scared him that Gido had thought it was necessary. What had gone on right after he died, that Gido thought he needed to be braced or cushioned against it? Only one way to find out.

"So," he said quietly. "Am I calm enough, now? For you to let me see whatever it is that lets us watch the mortal world? To see what's happened to them?"

Gido's hand in his hair paused for a moment. "You always were sharp," Gido murmured. "Look at me."

Frau raised his head from Gido's knee and looked up to meet his eyes, dark and steady and serious. "Do you think you're ready?" Gido asked. "To see the people you love, ones you probably won't see in person for a long time?"

Frau remembered Gido asking him, in exactly that voice, if he was coming along, when he agreed to let Frau fly with him. He remembered that had been the last time he'd seen Magdalena. And then he had to close his eyes for a second and swallow hard.

"This was the first thing you taught me," he finally said, husky. "To gain something, you usually have to give something else up." And then he laughed, a little unsteady but true, remembering something else. "Well, maybe the second thing." He opened his eyes again and looked up at Gido with a tilted smile. "The first was If no one else will reach out their hand, I will. If it's important enough... you do it anyway."

The light of Gido's slow smile, the open pride in it, in him, made Frau glance aside, face a little hot. It was a small calm in his heart, though—a little place to stand and rest. He had done what needed to be done, what he knew was right, and he'd found one of his homes again on the other side of that choice.

"If you want to see it, I'll show you," Gido said, softly. Frau nodded silently and Gido stood, tugging Frau up with him.

As they walked through yet more of the endless gardens, Gido explained quietly. "There's a lake. We're pretty sure it's what the Lord of Heaven uses to keep an eye on the mortal world, but other souls can influence it around the edges, too. If the ones you want to see are present enough in your heart and mind, the lake will show them to you." His mouth twisted, eyes fixed ahead of them. "It's a mixed blessing, if it's a blessing at all. It nearly destroyed Kreuz. The last Vertrag," he added, glancing over at Frau. "Tiashe's guardian. What happened to the kid was... well. It was pretty bitter, even for those of us who'd only met the kid once. Kreuz was Tiashe's second dad; he nearly tore his soul apart, watching what those Barsburg bastards did to him and not being able to do a thing about it." He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "In the end, Gala grew some mary-flower and made him sleep. These gardens listen a little to the blood of Profe, even when they're not Ghosts any more. Good thing, too. He's doing better these days, at least." Gido smiled over at him. "Helped when you and the kid met up."

Frau could understand, now, exactly why Gido had wanted to make sure Frau was settled down before showing him this lake, even if he was tempted to call the man an overprotective old hen. But then the bits of information rearranged themselves in his head and his feet froze to the ground.

"Frau?" Gido looked back over his shoulder, brows raised.

"So, um. Kreuz. Has been watching again, huh?" Frau swallowed. "Just how much has 'Teito's second dad' been watching?"

Gido blinked once or twice before it seemed to click for him too and he threw his head back and laughed, open and rich. "Oh, don't worry." That would have been more reassuring if Gido hadn't been snickering. "He thinks the two of you are cute. Got downright doting about it whenever Tiashe started bossing you around in bed."

"He did not..." Frau glared as Gido broke up laughing again. Gido just slung an arm around his shoulders.

"Yeah, kid, he really did. It was cute."

Frau let himself be towed along, growling under his breath.

The lake, he had to admit, was a little unnerving, when they got there. There were other people gathered here and there around the edge, and the looks on their faces made Frau's nerves tighten. The first thing he thought, seeing them, was Kor. All too many of them wore the expression of someone listening to a Kor. "Gido," he said, tight and quiet.

"A mixed blessing," Gido answered, low, not looking at him. "Ghosts aren't the only souls that can get stuck, here."

That tone, that not-look, were a warning Frau recognized from the Aegis. There was, perhaps, someone listening that they shouldn't speak too freely in front of. Some things were constants, whether in the celestial world or the mortal one. Considering they'd all figured it had been a celestial messenger that had really convinced the Pope to make Teito Pandora's Box, it wasn't all that surprising. Frau nodded, disarmingly casual, and knelt at the edge of the water.

The lapping wavelets stilled, smooth as glass, and Frau's breath caught to see Teito reflected there. He'd thought he would have to do more. But no, there was Teito, sitting with Hakuren and Ouka around a small round table stacked with paper and cluttered with carafes and glasses, as Kururu chased Mikage from chair back to chair back. Frau didn't realize how tight his fingers had closed on the grass of the shore until Gido's hands settled on his shoulders and squeezed.

He watched the three of them trade lists and portfolios around, listened to Ouka's opinion of this noble and Hakuren's thoughts on that priest and Teito's quiet remarks on some general, soft and clear as if they were in the next room. It hurt, like a fist closed around his heart, to see them, so clear and so distant. And it soothed too, to watch them, safe and alive and obviously planning to take over the world though none of them would probably put it that way.

And then Hakuren said, without looking up from his file, "A message came from Castor-sama today. They're safe back at the cathedral."

Teito flinched.

"Teito," Ouka said softly, reaching across to catch one of his hands.

"I'm all right," he said hastily. "It's fine."

Hakuren threw his folder on the table and glared at him. "You are not. When are you going to take your own advice and let yourself mourn for him?"

"We don't have time." Teito didn't sound very sure, though, and he was clinging to Ouka's hand.

"The world isn't falling apart this instant," Hakuren said firmly. "We have time." He pushed his chair back and came to kneel beside Teito's, hand on his shoulder. More gently, he added, "I miss Frau-sama too."

As if the name had been all it needed to unlock Teito's resistance, he slumped back in his chair with a stifled sound of grief, curling in on himself. Hakuren promptly pulled him out of the chair and into his arms, and Ouka came around the table to wind her arms around both of them.

"You loved him," she said softly, stroking Teito's hair as he shuddered. "And he was a good man. It's all right."

"So dark without him," Teito whispered roughly against Hakuren's shoulder, and Hakuren's arms tightened hard.

"Open your eyes," Hakuren ordered, rather husky himself. "Some of the light he showed you was your own, Teito, don't ever doubt that. Don't you dare."

Some muttering answered that, out of which Frau could only hear bossy. "Miss him," Teito added, a little more audibly. Ouka rested her cheek against his hair.

"You should miss him," she said softly. "When someone leaves, of course we miss them. It hurts less, with time, but we always miss them." She took a deep breath. "But that's just the proof that your heart and your light are alive. And that means you can keep on loving people, and they can help you when it hurts."

Teito broke down for real, then, shaking in their arms, and Frau watched them, eyes burning, as Hakuren and Ouka sat on the floor and held him through it. Mikage joined them to burrow against Teito's cheek and make anxious chirps at him, and when Teito finally lifted his head it was Mikage who got a damp smile. "Thanks," Teito said quietly, scrubbing a sleeve over his face. Hakuren tsked at him and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and Teito rolled his eyes, and Ouka giggled, and they all relaxed a little.

Teito straightened and stretched slowly, and accepted a glass of water Hakuren poured him. "So." He glanced up reluctantly at the table full of paper. "Who should we be supporting for Field Marshal?"

"I think it will have to be Myers," Ouka said practically, tucking her skirts in around her knees and staying beside him. "He's the only one willing to even think about releasing the Raggs Kingdom slaves, even now we're betrothed."

Frau drew back from the water, softly as if they could hear him in turn, and their image faded, still arguing. The last thing he saw was Hakuren's hand brushing Teito's hair protectively. "Idiot," he whispered, husky. "The light was all your own."

"Who's the idiot, again?" Gido's voice startled him, and he squawked a bit when Gido pulled him in close and Frau more or less collapsed against him. He was shaking, he realized, tremors like a bone-deep chill. Gido's hand closed on the nape of his neck, strong and warm, kneading a little of the shaking out. "I swear, each of you brats is just as bad as each other."

"What... what do you mean?" Frau asked, pressing his forehead against Gido's shoulder and trying to catch his breath.

"I mean," Gido told him dryly, "that both of you have souls that burn so pure it's amazing you don't blind innocent onlookers; and neither of you seem to believe it."

The words brought back the brilliance of Teito's soul, the taste of it on his tongue, the warmth of it that promised to call Frau back from any darkness, and loss clawed at Frau all over again. Gido held him close and quiet as Frau's hands twisted tight in his coat, and Frau's breath caught and heaved with the pain.

"Listen to the girl's wisdom, Frau," Gido murmured to him. "And know that you'll see Tiashe again."

"But he won't stay, and I can't leave." That thought hurt almost as badly as losing Teito already had—it was going to happen again, and there was nothing he could do...

Gido sighed. "Idiot." He rapped Frau briskly over the head. "What did I just say about your soul?"

"But..." Frau pushed upright against him, staring. "You said the Ghosts..."

"Are stuck here for a while. But unless he dies unimaginably young for a master of the Eye of Mikhail, you'll be ready to go back with him." He smiled and ruffled Frau's hair. "Do try to remember why you're the only one of us who could handle that damn scythe. I'm not the foreseer among us, but I'll tell you this much of your future: Zehel's mark will be burned from your soul in plenty of time."

Frau leaned back into the shelter of Gido's assurance, shaken worse than ever by the thought that he might find Teito again, as he'd found Gido. "Thank you," he whispered. He didn't like to think about what might have happened to him at this lake if he hadn't had Gido to ground him and guide him through it.

"None needed," Gido told him gently. "Come on, then." He stood, urging Frau up with him. "Let's find you a place to stay."

"Is it going to be as insane as the baths?" Frau asked, casting a suspicious eye around at the unrelentingly out-doorsy landscape. Gido snorted.

"Not that bad. Most people aren't here long enough to need anything, and a lot of the ones who stay aren't in any shape to notice," he didn't look back at the captive souls by the lake, but Frau shivered anyway, "so there are only a few of us who use it. We're back in a corner by the woods."

It took a while to get anywhere near the woods, but eventually they came into sight of some very tall walls and spires. Walls which, as they got closer, formed a building very like the sector seven Cathedral—arched walkways here, open courtyards there, pillared halls leading inward. Gido chuckled as Frau craned his head back, taking in the complexity of it. "There's no record of which came first, this or the Cathedral, but we think it was probably this."

He led Frau inward. There were none of the distracted souls Frau had seen in the rest of the gardens, here. Instead they passed a handful of people who felt just a little familiar. A light haired man with Castor's nose looked up from a book and smiled as they passed his rooms. A slight, beautiful woman with Labrador's eyes waved to them from an enclosed courtyard and fountain. A man with the gold hair of the Oaks winked at them over the shoulder of a tall man with Teito's faint accent strong in his vowels, who was contemplating a chess board set between them.

"Welcome home," Gido said quietly, setting a hand on Frau's shoulder to guide him through another arch and into a wide room with a few heavy chairs, a table and shelves, a deep bed. It was so much like the bedrooms in the cathedral that Frau's breath caught.

"I was going to say this will take some getting used to," he said, looking around at the smooth, pale stone walls. "But maybe less than I was thinking."

"Usually," Gido agreed, leaning in the arch of Frau's new doorway. "You're not alone here, Frau. We're all in this together."

Frau rested a hand on the wall by his bed nook. It had half a dozen pillows, and a stack of silky, folded blankets at the foot. That silent welcome and the knowing eyes of the ex-Ghosts they'd passed settled around him, warm and steady, and he took a long, slow breath. For the first time since he'd arrived in Heaven, he felt like he had a stable place to stand.

Maybe he'd make it until his other loved ones came back to him after all.

Which reminded him of the one he'd found here, all unexpected, and he cocked his head at Gido thoughtfully. "So, hey."

Gido's brows rose as Frau strolled back over to him. "Hm?"

"You said you wanted to get me settled, here, when you found me earlier." Frau reached out to rest a hand on Gido's chest, smiling to feel the beating heart under his hand. "Think you might help me get used to the new place?" He tilted his head at the bed.

Gido laughed and reached out without moving from his casual lean against the door to pull Frau up against him. "I really did miss you, brat," he said, resting his forehead against Frau's, eyes warm. "It'll be my pleasure."

"Well, then." Frau relaxed against him with a soft sigh, finding the words easy at last.

"I'm home."

End

The Command of Those Who Ask of Me

Hyuuga tends to and cares for Ayanami in the evening. In the morning, a different side of Ayanami wants rawer proof of his service. Fluff, Porn, I-4

Hyuuga peeked into his commander's quarters and sighed. According to reports, Aya-san had been standing at the picture window in his rooms for a very long time, looking out on the city as dark fell and all the lights that lived on conquered zaiphon twinkled on. That was usually a bad sign. Sometimes, when Aya-san brooded for too long, he lost himself a little, and when he lost himself to Verloren's memories of pain or anger it wasn't good for anyone. Not unless there was something on hand he could kill to regain his equanimity.

When there wasn't, well, that's when getting him back out became Hyuuga's job.

Hyuuga waved to Katsuragi, waiting down the hall, and slipped in, closing Ayanami's door behind him. Katsuragi would keep everyone clear until he was done. He came up behind Ayanami on quiet feet and slid his arms around his waist. The straightness of Ayanami's spine went a little stiffer.

"Hyuuga," Ayanami said, cold and low. It was the voice of death, sharp as the edge that could cut a soul, and if Hyuuga hadn't already guessed he'd have known right then who he had his arms around.

He bent his head under the dark weight of that voice and murmured against Ayanami's shoulder, "You are my Lord. I was born to serve your will, like every other one of the Fallen families that come from your blood." Ayanami's stiffness settled a little with what Hyuuga suspected was satisfaction, and he went on, soft and coaxing. "But you're also my commander, who leads and cherishes us. And my oldest friend, who I love." Very low, he finished, "Let me take care of you tonight?"

As he spoke he could feel Ayanami relax, slowly, until the body in his arms leaned back against him with a human sigh. "Hyuuga," his friend's voice said, quiet and level but warm again.

"Thank you." Hyuuga smiled against Aya-san's ear. "Come to bed, Aya-san? You've been standing here a long time."

"I suppose I have." Ayanami stirred and straightened, and if Hyuuga kept a sharp eye on him and a hand on his shoulder until he was sure his friend wouldn't fall after so long ignoring his mortal body, Aya-san pretended he didn't notice.

He did snort a little bit when they got to the bedroom and Hyuuga brushed his fingers aside and undid Ayanami's sword belt himself.

"Let me, Aya-san," Hyuuga said softly, eyes on the buckles. He wanted to keep Ayanami focused on the here-and-now-and-human tonight, until whatever he'd been brooding about receded a little and he was in a better temper.

He hung the sword and belts over Ayanami's weapons rack and delicately undid the hidden clasps of Ayanami's uniform coat. Aya-san's lips were ever so faintly curving up, which was a good sign. Hyuuga shook out the coat and hung it carefully while Ayanami sat down on the edge of his bed. He knelt swiftly at Aya-san's feet, glancing up at him admonishingly over the edge of his glasses, as he loosened the buckles of Ayanami's boots. Aya-san let Hyuuga tug them off and sat patiently while he put them in the closet and came back to unbutton Aya-san's shirt.

"You're starting to look overdressed," Ayanami finally murmured, and Hyuuga laughed.

"Am I? I'd better take care of that, then." He laid his sheathed swords across Ayanami's table and folded his coat over the back of a chair. Boots, shirt, and pants followed quickly, and Aya-san was definitely looking amused when Hyuuga came back to kneel by the bed in nothing but his shorts and socks.

"Less so now," he allowed, and let Hyuuga undo his pants, tugging them off, and the shorts with them, with brisk, gentle hands.

"Lie down," Hyuuga directed. Ayanami's brow rose, eyes turning hard again, and Hyuuga gave him a wry smile, still on his knees. "You command me, Aya-san. In every way. You know that. But let me be your old friend for tonight?"

After a long moment, Ayanami nodded and stretched out on his stomach, head pillowed on his crossed arms. Hyuuga slipped up onto the bed and knelt beside him. He spread a hand against Aya-san's back, leaning just a little weight on it until he finally felt Aya-san breathe out and relax a hair.

That was enough to start with.

He slid his hand up into Aya-san's unruly, silver hair to knead his fingertips over where the band of the uniform hat fell. He worked his fingers lightly over Aya-san's wrists where the cuff of the gloves bound sometimes. He ran his hands slowly down Aya-san's body to knead his calves where the boots buckled tight and his feet where the hard boot heels made cramps. All the little places where the uniform chafed or pulled, he soothed and he didn't even try to work on Aya-san's shoulders until he'd had a while to calm under the slow touches.

Finally, though, Aya-san's arms unfolded and he settled a little more easily against the bed, and Hyuuga smiled. Now he could lean over Aya-san and put some force into it as he kneaded his friend's shoulders and back. Tonight Aya-san was even at ease enough to let his breath hitch and gasp as Hyuuga worked his muscles loose.

"There," Hyuuga murmured, when the muscle and skin under his hands was warm and flushed and flexible again. He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss over the back of his neck. "Ready to sleep?"

"Mmm."

Hyuuga very carefully did not chuckle at the drowsy sound. He'd save up this triumph to tease Aya-san with the next time he wanted to match his speed against Aya-san's whip. He just raised the covers and held them for Aya-san to slide under before tugging off his shorts and socks and joining him.

It wasn't all that often that Aya-san let him do this, and Hyuuga hoarded the memories of nights that Aya-san let Hyuuga hold him, nights he consented to rest his head on Hyuuga's shoulder and drift off while his oldest friend watched over him.

Hyuuga carded his fingers slowly through Aya-san's hair and smiled into the dark.

Hyuuga woke with most of the covers kicked off and no Aya-san anywhere near. That wasn't unusual for these mornings, and he just stretched and yawned, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he glanced around for his commander. He half expected to see Ayanami already in his uniform and finishing breakfast, but instead he was standing in the sun from the windows in only a robe.

"Morning, Aya-tan." Hyuuga leaned up on an elbow, lazily. "Taking it easy today?" Maybe he could even tempt Aya-san back into bed for a little...

The thought cut off abruptly as Ayanami turned and Hyuuga saw his eyes, brilliant and distant and sharp as knives over a curl of lips even sharper. Ayanami had clearly gotten over his brooding, Hyuuga thought with incongruous calm, which didn't mean he would be any less volatile as long as he stayed like this. Merely less inclined to outright bodily harm.

"So," Ayanami murmured, chill and velvety. "You say you serve me?"

Hyuuga swallowed against the scald of adrenaline through his veins, seeing that edge in Ayanami's smile, hearing it in his voice. Both focused on him, and his cock was hardening in response. "Yes, Lord," he answered, husky.

Ayanami's eyes raked up and down his body, and a curl of amusement threaded through their sharpness. "Hmm." He reached out a hand and beckoned, and Hyuuga came up off the bed in one swift movement to stand before Ayanami.

It was crazy to stay in the same room with this man, with the memory awake behind Ayanami's eyes right now, turning them inhuman. Nothing Hyuuga had ever met on any battlefield would ever be as dangerous as that soul's attention, as what Ayanami could do to him with a gesture. With a thought.

Hyuuga's breath came short and fast as he thought about that, and he was so hard he was getting light-headed.

The curl to Ayanami's lips was definitely amused, and he wrapped his hand around the nape of Hyuuga's neck with casual, inhuman strength. "Not as much to say for yourself as usual, this morning," he observed.

Thrill sang through Hyuuga and he grinned, teeth bared as he stepped up to dance with death. "Well, if you want your own personal jester, of course I'll be happy to oblige. Aya-tan."

Ayanami laughed once, low in his throat, and his hand pressed down, bearing Hyuuga down to his knees with terrifying ease. "Not today." He slid his hand up the line of Hyuuga's jaw and brushed a thumb over his lips.

"Yes, Lord," Hyuuga agreed, husky, eyes lifted to Ayanami's. Ayanami held them as he pulled loose the tie of his robe and stepped closer. Hyuuga didn't look away as he opened his mouth for Ayanami's cock, wrapping his lips around the thickness of it. This was familiar, and so was the possessiveness of Ayanami's fingers threading through his hair. But the casual force that drove Ayanami's cock deep into his mouth was something he had only tasted a few times. When Ayanami was like this, when the age of his soul walked abroad laughing, he used Hyuuga as off-handedly as if it was his right to do so.

It was, of course.

Hyuuga slid his hands up to close tight on Ayanami's hips, not trying to move him at all but still a bit of presumption, a teasing challenge to Ayanami's authority. He moaned low in his throat as Ayanami's fingers tightened, holding him perfectly still while Ayanami fucked his mouth hard and thorough. There was no other thrill, no other danger, quite like this. Hyuuga savored the edge of it as he worked his tongue over Ayanami, never looking away from the cold, brilliant eyes that looked down at him with distant amusement.

It was the eyes that finished him in the end, he thought. The way Ayanami watched his body pull taut, his breath come fast and short, with nothing but that sharp amusement. The way Ayanami held his eyes and didn't let him look away while his cock filled Hyuuga's mouth. Even when the raw heat of being pinned under that gaze finally raked through Hyuuga, sending his hips bucking helplessly against air as pleasure wrung him out, Ayanami didn't let him look away, and his moans were chopped short by the deep, hard thrust of Ayanami's cock into his throat.

When hot, salty flatness spilled across the back of Hyuuga's tongue, it wrung one last shudder of pleasure out of him.

Ayanami finally pulled away, fingers loosening and sliding through Hyuuga's hair. "That will do," he murmured.

"Yes, Lord," Hyuuga panted, voice husky, but still teasingly smug. He shivered as Ayanami drew his head all the way back and leaned down to kiss him, sharp and possessive. He didn't move from his knees as Ayanami turned and walked through his rooms to the bath, just slumped back to catch his breath.

And grinned.

He knew even the other Black Hawks thought he was a little crazy, but that was okay. It meant he got mornings like this all to himself.

And there was nothing like it.

End

Seven, Eight, Lay Them Straight

Yamamoto wants some captains back. Hirako doesn't trust him a bit. But there are other people who have a stake in the argument, and he has a harder time saying no to them. Alternate storyline, because if KT really intends to break them up, well I'm just not having with that. Drama, Character Study, A Bit of Fluff, I-3

It had, Shinji thought, been a pretty good day, so far. The chill of winter was still hanging on, but it was sunny and crisp out. Everyone was pretty much recovered from the battle with Aizen. There was a new volume of manga out for Love and Lisa to argue over, and Rose had been talking about making something 'experimental' for dinner which was always good for a laugh or two.

It could have kept on being a good day if they hadn't gotten a visitor.

Shinji sat very still on one of their salvaged couches, eyes fixed on the dapper First Division vice-captain standing calm and collected in front of him. "He wants us to what?"

Sasakibe didn't even have the grace to look ashamed of his message. "Yamamoto-soutaichou asks that the captains of the Third, Fifth, and Ninth divisions return to take up their positions again," he repeated, hands clasped easily behind him. "May I bring him your reply, Hirako-taichou?"

Shinji lifted a brow and looked around at his fellow Visored, perched here and there on the ledges and second-hand furniture of their home in the mortal world, all stopped dead in the middle of reading or cooking or mending to stare down at Sasakibe. They looked about like he felt. "Well, ladies and gentlemen?" he purred. "Do we have an answer for the illustrious Captain-General?"

Predictably, it was Hiyori who first snorted. "Fuck it," she spat, arms crossed.

"About like that, yeah," Lisa agreed, turning back to her manga. "Notice he didn't ask for any of the rest of us; just three to replace the captains his own damn blindness lost. Selfish bastard."

"And I can't say I enjoyed the Court's last reaction when they thought I didn't fit into a proper division any longer," Love added, leaning against a pillar, "I don't really want to see what he'd try to do with a spare captain this time."

Rose's eyes were hard, flamboyance left aside for once. "We served Soul Society loyally and were wounded in that service, and your precious Council would have killed us out of hand like mad dogs. Why should we go back to that?"

"They were told who was at fault and all they did was make the bastards captains," Kensei growled, muscles flexing ominously as he clenched his fists. "Now they want us to clean up their mess?"

Mashiro took another bite of the dumplings she was demolishing and turned a hand palm-up at her captain, shrugging her agreement.

Shinji smiled. "So there you have it," he told Sasakibe cheerfully. "Our answer is that Yamamoto should fold his offer into corners and shove it. Anything else?"

Sasakibe sighed quietly. "I will take your reply back. May I say, personally, that I would welcome your presence in the Court of Pure Souls, setting things to rights once more. I don't believe I'm alone in that." He bowed to them, deep and courteous, before picking his way back to their door.

"Huh." Lisa squinted after him. "That was kind of half-hearted. I expected him to argue more."

Shinji frowned to himself, thinking about the way Sasakibe had phrased that last bit. He wasn't so sure the argument was over.

When their next visitor from Soul Society was Kuchiki Rukia, Shinji figured he'd been right.

"If he thinks he can twist us around to this by sending one of Ichigo's friends," he started, low and hard, as Hachi quietly sealed the barrier again behind her. Rukia instantly looked guilty and Shinji nearly growled.

"It isn't like that," she insisted, eyes wide and earnest, and Shinji slashed a hand through the air, cutting her off.

"You can tell Yamamoto, we said no and we mean no. He made his damn bed, and now he can sleep in it! Not once in a freaking century did anyone even..." he trailed off because Rukia had stopped looking guilty and was looking puzzled.

"Yamamoto-soutaichou doesn't even know I'm here." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her eyes widened and she waved her hands, black sleeves flapping. "I mean...! He approved the project, of course, and Ukitake-taichou knows where I am, so it's not like..."

Shinji ran the last few minutes through the 'Juushirou-san or possibly Rukia is putting something over on Yamamoto' filter instead of the 'Yamamoto is putting one over on us' version. "It's not like you're sneaking around behind Yamamoto's back to do something for Ichigo?" he hazarded and laughed when Rukia's cheeks turned pink. "Well that's different. All right, what are you here for?" He strolled back to his couch and sprawled out comfortably.

Rukia gathered herself and bowed to him formally. "Hirako-taichou, I'm here to beg a favor on behalf of Kurosaki Ichigo, who you have named your ally." She pulled a wrapped bundle off her shoulder and knelt down on the concrete to unwrap it at his feet.

It was a sword. A nameless sword, and yet... Shinji frowned and held his fingers close to it, testing that sense of power. He'd never seen a nameless sword that radiated reiatsu like this one. He'd also never felt such a gathering of reiatsu that wasn't marked with the sense of a single soul. "What's this?"

Rukia sat back on her knees, hands folded. "Yamamoto-soutaichou ruled that, because Ichigo had lost his shinigami powers in defense of Soul Society, it would be proper to restore them if we could. Many have contributed their reiatsu already."

Contributed their reiatsu to a sword. Shinji thought about that for a long moment and finally called, without looking up, "Hachi, is this what I think it is?"

Hachigen came and leaned over Rukia's shoulder, eyeing the sword with interest. "Indeed. As a named zanpakutou can be the channel for a single shinigami's spirit power, this one could theoretically channel the power of all the contributors into the recipient."

Shinji caught a glint in Rukia's eyes before she lowered them demurely, and grinned. "You like the irony?" he asked softly.

That spitfire glint flashed again, along with Rukia's teeth, before she composed her expression. "It was judged the most stable solution, and the one likeliest to succeed," she observed coolly.

Shinji laughed out loud. "You convinced them to let you do it, didn't you?" The very 'crime' she'd nearly been destroyed for, and here she was sanctioned to perform it right out in in front of gods and men.

"It was judged Ichigo's spirit, having accepted my reiatsu once, would most readily accept this infusion from me as well." Rukia was really bad at looking innocent. Shinji approved.

"Give it here." He held out a hand, gathering his own strength. In one swoop he could help Ichigo, who had gotten almost as raw a deal as the Visored had, and put a thumb in Yamamoto's eye. Show the old man he couldn't control everything and everyone.

Because he might have been wrong about why Rukia was here, but he didn't think he'd been wrong about what the old bastard was scheming.

When their third visitor arrived, Shinji knew he'd been right, because their third visitor was Hisagi Shuuhei, vice-captain and acting leader of the Ninth Division. The man who had Kensei's numbers tattooed on his cheek. It didn't take a genius to spot who must have inspired the kid to become a shinigami, and a dispassionate corner of Shinji's mind wondered just how badly it had rubbed Tousen the wrong way, that his own vice-captain had a previous loyalty to the captain Tousen had betrayed. Or, hell, maybe he'd been sick-minded enough, by then, he'd thought it was funny.

Kensei was the only one Hisagi had eyes for once Hachi let him in, at any rate. He went straight to Kensei, like he didn't even notice the rest of them, and after a moment's hesitation he bowed all the way to the ground. Shinji's lip curled, because that was exactly the kind of gesture he'd expect from someone on a mission of manipulation, treating Kensei like he was already the kid's captain. But if that was the case, Shinji didn't know why the hell the kid was so stiff and awkward about it.

"Muguruma-taichou." Hisagi's voice was just as stiff. "The Captain-General sent me to ask that you take up leadership of your division again."

Shinji propped one foot up on his windowsill perch, considering that phrasing while the other Visored started to slip closer through the concrete and shadows of the building.

Kensei folded his arms with a snort. "So he can betray us twice? I don't think so."

Hisagi bent his head. "Your reservations are only sensible," he agreed quietly.

Shinji pursed his lips. Interesting. If he had to guess, he'd say Hisagi hadn't wanted to come here, and might just be resenting the way Yamamoto was using him to pressure Kensei, despite wanting Kensei back himself. "So if it's only logical we refuse, why are you here forking over this steaming crap?" he prodded.

Sure enough, Hisagi's shoulders tightened, all the more obvious in that sleeveless kosode of his. "The Captain-General sent me," he repeated flatly.

"The Captain-General can kiss my ass," Kensei said, rough. "Go back and take the damn division yourself, already."

Hisagi's head dipped a little lower. "I'm not qualified as a Captain. It... it will have to be someone else. I'm sorry, Muguruma-taichou."

Shinji exchanged a long look with Love, brows raised. Love nodded faintly back to him, leaning against the pillar across their 'entry hall'. This kid had it bad for Kensei, just like Kensei's whole seated complement always had, except for Mashiro herself and that poisonous bastard Tousen.

And maybe that was exactly why he didn't want to be here pressuring him. Shinji chewed on a nail and frowned. This could be bad; Kensei had a soft spot for earnestness and honesty.

Kensei blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at Hisagi. "Not like it's your fault."

"Thank you for saying so." Hisagi didn't look up, and Shinji thought he was leaning harder on the hand he had braced on the ground, now; anyone with less of a poker up his spine would have been slumped. "I won't trouble you further, sir."

Kensei shifted his shoulders, tapped his fingers on his belt, and finally asked abruptly. "How are they? The Ninth."

Shinji swore silently at Yamamoto for having the brains to send a messenger who so transparently wanted not to manipulate them that his very earnestness manipulated them. Or at least Kensei.

"Unsettled," Hisagi admitted, low. "Not as badly as the Fifth, but... no one likes being without a captain's strength to guide us. Even if Renji or Ikkaku can be pried away from their captains... I worry that it won't be enough. Renji is still very new to his bankai, and Ikkaku has been holding himself back; neither of them has the confidence that would make me willing to follow them." Not the way he'd followed the bare memory of Kensei. The thought hung unspoken in the air.

Kensei's eyes were dark as he glanced over at Shinji, and Shinji's mouth tightened. "You know the risks," he said levelly.

"No one knows them better, except maybe you." Kensei turned away and banged his fist against a cracked support beam. "My people weren't the ones who fucked us up, though!"

Hisagi's head came up and he stared at Kensei's back with wide eyes, suddenly hopeful, suddenly hungry before he got himself back under control and looked down again. Shinji watched the performance and sighed. He knew Kensei would never deny that kind of loyalty and need; it was exactly how he made them so loyal to him in the first place. "Your choice."

Mashiro rolled onto her stomach on the couch she was sprawled across and dangled her arms over the edge. "Are we going back?"

"I'll think about it."

Shinji rolled his eyes. Deny it as he would, Kensei still thought of himself as a captain, and of Mashiro as his vice-captain, someone he had the right and responsibility to direct without a second thought. "You're too good for that place," he muttered.

Kensei smiled at that, tight and thin. "Tell me something I don't know." He turned back to stand over Hisagi, who looked up at him with fragile calm. "Tell the old man I'll think about it."

"Yes, Taichou," Hisagi answered, husky, and bowed his head almost to his knee. "Thank you."

Shinji flopped back onto his elbows with a sigh as Hisagi got up to go. He wondered glumly who Yamamoto would find to pry at their resolve next.

"We have another visitor," Hachi announced from the ramp down to the red stone floor of their cavern and Shinji puffed a soap bubble from the basin of dishes he was washing away from his face.

"Who is it this time?" he called, dunking the next plate in the rinse water and drying it on his red striped apron. Hachi sounded a little weirdly formal, but he got like that sometimes. "Did the old goat send Retsu-san to scold us or something?"

"Nothing that grand, I'm afraid."

Shinji jerked around, suds dripping off his hands, to stare. No, his ears didn't deceive him, that was Kyouraku Shunsui stepping down the ramp all right. From the corner of his eye he saw Lisa's latest manga hit the ground, pages fluttering as the lurid pink cover flapped closed. He tossed the last plate back into the water, snapping the suds off his hands like blood off his blade. "Kyouraku," he said, low and warning. Lisa had never been one of his division back in Soul Society, but she was one of his people now and he wouldn't have her hurt by Yamamoto's damn politicking.

The man held up his hands, looking apologetic. "I would have told Yama-jii to walk off a cliff, really I would have, but I did want to make sure Lisa-chan was okay." He looked over Shinji's shoulder, eyes deceptively soft. "And it is true you'd be welcome, if you ever decided to return."

"You have a vice-captain," Lisa pointed out, stifled. When Shinji glanced over his shoulder, she was standing still and straight-shouldered, but her hands were fists half hidden in her skirt.

"Nanao-chan would step aside for you," Shunsui told her gently. "You have to know that. She idolized you." His mouth tilted wryly. "Still does."

"Why should you care?" Lisa lashed out, fists tightening until they trembled. Shinji fell back a few steps to be in support range. Or range to restrain her if she broke and attacked Shunsui, because it would only piss her off more when she couldn't even hit him. "You never did anything! You never even looked for us!"

Shunsui sighed and tucked his hands in the sleeves of his extravagantly flowered kimono. "Lisa-chan, we didn't know. None of us knew what had happened until Yoruichi had already gotten all of you to the mortal world." His eyes never left Lisa. "If we had known, we would have acted. I swear that to you."

"He and Ukitake-taichou are the ones who destroyed the Kikou-ou, rather than see Rukia-san destroyed unjustly," Hachi put in quietly from where he sat on the end of the ramp.

Lisa crossed her arms tightly over her stomach, hands gripping her elbows. Shinji ran a damp hand through his hair with a disgusted huff. Lisa was strong and capable, and as pissed off as any of them about the way they'd been sentenced sight-unseen by the damn Council, the way Yamamoto hadn't done a single thing to save them. But he also knew she'd spent the past century missing her captain. "Go on, if you can trust him," he told her quietly.

Lisa worried her lip between her teeth, glaring daggers at Shunsui, but Shinji could see the helpless hurt behind the anger. Obviously Shunsui could too, because he took one step that flashed across the cavern and folded Lisa in his arms. "I'm sorry, Lisa-chan," he murmured against her hair. "I'm sorry I couldn't find you sooner."

Lisa didn't make a sound, but her hands lifted to close tight on his sleeves.

Love came to prop himself against the washing stand and said quietly to Shinji, "Two to zero?"

"Three, counting Mashiro, as soon as Kensei makes up his mind to go." Shinji fished out the last plate and scrubbed it viciously. "Shunsui-san will look after Lisa, at least, but what the hell do we do to keep Kensei and Mashiro safe?"

Love considered for a long moment and finally suggested, "Kill Kurotsuchi before he gets too curious for our own good?"

An unwilling smile tugged at Shinji's mouth. "That'd be a start, yeah."

He was beginning to have a bad feeling about where this would end, though.

When Hinamori showed up, he went right through 'bad feeling' and landed on 'blazing fury' instead.

"I am going back to Soul Society after all," he said, very quietly, "so that I can kill that old bastard with my own two hands." The edge of concrete under his hand was slowly crumbling and the air was ringing around him. He was aware of the uneasy looks the others were exchanging, the way Hachi's hands were slowly folding into the form for a restraining kidou, and couldn't bring himself to care right at the moment. How dare Yamamoto use the girl Aizen broke? How dare he send her here, as if to tell Shinji to take responsibility for the messes his alleged subordinate left behind?

It was Hiyori who stuffed her hands in her pockets and snorted as if she hadn't noticed the weight of his rage. "Yeah, well, he deserves it. I mean, what kind of moron tries to play the sympathy card on you?"

After a long, taut moment, Shinji let out a breath of harsh laughter and hauled his reiatsu in before he destroyed any more of their home. "No one, you'd think."

"I asked to come."

Shinji eyed Hinamori, really seeing her for the first time. The thought wandered through his head that she couldn't be as delicate as she looked if she was still on her feet after the way he'd just cut loose. "You asked?"

She bobbed her head earnestly, hands clasped in front of her. "After I spoke with Hisagi-san."

Shinji's brows rose. "And exactly what did Hisagi say, that made you think coming here was a good idea?" he drawled.

"He ah... well..." Her steady gaze wavered and slid away from his. "You see, Rangiku-san was, er, counseling Kira-kun again, and Hisagi-san said that if he was going to have to take anyone to Fourth afterwards he wanted to at least get some of the sake for himself, and he ah... might have been just a little drunk."

Shinji crossed his arms and leaned back against a fallen block, still showing the sword-cuts from where Ichigo, or maybe Hiyori, had carved it up during their first fight. Kensei had a hand over his eyes, and Love and Rose were both trying to stifle snickers. "Go on."

Hinamori cleared her throat, cheeks faintly pink. "Well, he mentioned that, if Muguruma-taichou did decide to return, it would be for the sake of his division. After the story Renji-kun and Rukia-san brought back, about what had happened to you... it seemed to me that was likely the only reason any of you might be willing to come back. And that the best person to make the Fifth's need clear would be me." She spread her hands, looking up at him steadily once again.

"Ah, I see," Shinji said lightly, temper simmering again. "So it was your own personal idea to guilt-trip me, not Yamamoto's."

"No, sir!" Hinamori started forward a step, chin up, color high. "I would never...!" She stopped, hands clenching tight on each other. When she spoke, her voice was husky, broken around the edges. "I would never try to... to manipulate someone's heart like that. Never."

The shadows slinking behind her eyes and turning them dark were painfully familiar, and Shinji's temper collapsed in a heap. This girl obviously hadn't even had his own native suspicion and nasty-mindedness to help her understand what Aizen was. "No," he said a bit more gently, "I can see you wouldn't." He propped a foot against his broken perch with a sigh, slumping a little. "It's true enough; if I came back for anyone it would be for the Fifth. What happened wasn't their fault. But the Council and Yamamoto are still there, and... Hinamori?" She was staring at him wide-eyed, hands clasped tight against her mouth.

"He got it from you," she whispered. "That's how he made everyone believe it, he was pretending to be you..."

"Hinamori!" Shinji straightened up, reaching out as she started to slide down to the ground, wondering what the hell was wrong with her and why Retsu-san had let her out of Fourth's clutches in this shape. Mashiro was already there, though, easing Hinamori to the floor in a rustle of hakama. Shinji frowned down at them, unsettled. "Hinamori, what are you talking about?"

She gulped and scrubbed her hands over her face. "I wondered how Aizen-taichou could act like he cared, when he obviously didn't," she said, nearly whispering. "I couldn't understand it. It seemed so real! If he could do all those things, to Rukia-san and the people of Rukongai and you and... and me... If he could do that, how could he even understand kindness well enough to fake it?!" She heaved another breath in and out and looked up at Shinji. "But just now... when you spoke more softly, you sounded just like him. I mean, he sounded like you. He's been acting like you, all this time, that's how he did it, that's how he made everyone believe it!" She was shaking in the casual circle of Mashiro's arm, but her voice had risen, hard and steady, and her eyes were blazing.

Shinji had to take a few breaths himself, swallowing down his gorge at the thought of Aizen using him, or at least his memory, that way. "You still sure you want me to come back?" he finally managed, almost as lightly as usual.

"Yes!" Hinamori leaned forward on her knees, tense and broken and looking more alive than she had since she's stepped in the door. "The Fifth was under Aizen for too long, believing lies for too long. Help us re-learn what's real, what that looks like." She finished softly, "Please, Hirako-taichou."

Shinji looked down at her, absently damning his own sense of responsibility. Hinamori had a good instinct for the target, that was for sure. The opportunity to reclaim his division from the traitor who'd stolen them beckoned temptingly, and the determined beginnings of trust in the wide brown eyes locked with his promised silently that things would be different this time. Shinji sighed, reminding himself to do something extremely unpleasant to Yamamoto for letting Hinamori come and close this net around him.

He stalked over and held a hand down to Hinamori. "All right, come on, then. Up!" He hauled her to her feet. "Hiyori!" he called without looking around.

"Yeah?" The single word was toneless and Shinji grinned just a little, guessing what she was thinking.

"Didn't figure you'd want to go back to the Twelfth, so decide which of us you want to stick with. If it's me, you and Hinamori need to hash things out between you. Can't have more than one vice-captain, after all."

Hinamori blinked up at him for a second before a smile broke over her face like sunrise. "Yes, Taichou!"

"What's to hash?" Hiyori fired up instantly, which had been more or less the idea. "I have seniority!"

Hinamori peered around Shinji with a flash of calculation in her eyes before she folded her hands and smiled, sweet and steely. "If you'd like to decide it that way, I'm sure that will be fine. How long was your tenure as vice-captain, Hiyori-san? And how recent is your administrative experience?"

"My what?!"

Shinji faded back to lean against a pillar beside Rose while they watched the show. "So, should we wait for them to send your vice-captain after you, too?" he asked. "Just to have the full set."

"Since it seems I'll need to rescue mine from alcohol poisoning, I think we'd better not." Rose tossed back his hair, looking around at the rest of them. "I suppose this is the best way to take care of everyone in the family."

Shinji's mouth curled up. "Yeah, I think you're right." And he didn't think Yamamoto had really considered that part of it—that he was taking into Soul Society a group who would never be turned against each other, no matter who ordered it. Not after what they'd been through. Well, too bad for him if the old bastard hadn't. Yamamoto had asked for this; he'd get it.

The Army of Masks was coming to Soul Society.

Shinji shook his white haori's sleeve straight with an annoyed twitch of his arm. He hadn't counted on the uniforms they'd worn for centuries feeling so awkward, though it made sense enough once he thought it through. None of them had had any trouble putting the uniform off, even outside of their gigai—not after the way Soul Society had condemned them to death without a second thought. In face of that betrayal, they'd all taken on the clothing of the mortal world with bitter speed and finality.

But the people who'd condemned them were dead of what Shinji could only think of as the world's biggest karmic boomerang, and the people who really mattered wanted them to come home. So here they were, gigai packed away, new manga stockpiled, pantry handed over to Tessai, standing in their cavern and looking at each other. Back in uniform. Wondering who was going to be the one to test their welcome and try to open the senkaimon.

"So?" Hiyori crossed her arms, glowering at nothing. "What are we waiting for?" Shinji's mouth twitched up at the corner.

"For someone to get impatient," he told her and drew his sword. His tilted smile turned true for a breath at the way everyone else breathed out with relief. When he slid his blade through the edges of the world, he felt it catch at once. The turn to unlock the gates was as smooth as ever, a familiar sense of vastness shifting around that tiny motion, and then the gates were in front of them, silently sliding open one after the other.

When eight butterflies flittered through the light of the gates to hover in front of them it was Shinji's turn to sigh as relief ran through him in a warm rush. Their reiatsu imprints had been reinstated, and they were recognized. Official. Accepted.

He was still going to flip Yamamoto off the first chance he got. But he couldn't deny the comfort of having one of those delicate, black messengers hovering at his shoulder, a silent and unmistakable sign of belonging.

"Let's go, ladies and gentlemen," he said quietly.

The walk through the passage was silent, so silent the rustle of haori and occasional clink of swords seemed loud. Shinji halted when they came to the bright horizon of the second gate. "Everyone ready?"

"Ready as we're going to get," Kensei muttered.

"Let's go see what our welcome is," Love agreed, one hand resting on his sword's hilt.

"They'd better be damn grateful to see us after a hundred years of this shit," Hiyori growled and hitched her sword up on her hunched shoulders and stomped through the gate. Shinji smiled at her back, far more gently than he'd ever let her see since they shouldn't really pause in the middle of the passage between worlds to have a brawl.

"Like she said."

They stepped out of the gate and into the pillared staging plaza of Soul Society.

There were more people waiting than he'd expected.

He'd been sure their vice-captains would be there, because Yamamoto wasn't the kind to change what was working, and Shunsui-san would be there to pick up Lisa of course. But Juushirou-san and Retsu-san were both standing back among the circle of pillars also, and he spotted the white haired mini-captain lurking back there too. He almost didn't recognize Kuchiki Byakuya, standing still and poker-faced under another column, and wondered yet again just what had happened to turn Kuchiki House's mouthy little firebrand into this.

Shunsui-san tipped his hat up, smiling quietly at them. "Welcome back, all of you."

"We'll say whether it's nice to be back once we find out," Shinji returned dryly and rolled his eyes a little at the dramatically mournful look Shunsui-san gave him. "Lisa."

She stepped forward, and Shunsui-san's clowning softened at once into something almost tender. "Lisa-chan." And then Shunsui-san grinned. "We have a present for you."

The Ise girl stepped out of his shadow and came forward, holding something clasped against her chest and giving Lisa such a starry-eyed look that Shinji almost laughed. "Welcome back, Yadoumaru-fukutaichou," she said softly and held out the vice-captain's badge with both hands.

Sure enough, the stiff line of Lisa's back eased and she smiled a little. "Are you sure, Nanao-chan?"

"Of course!" Ise was actually blushing. "It will be an honor to serve under you again." Shinji raised a brow at Shunsui-san, who just looked smug.

Lisa laid her hands over the badge, resting them on Ise's for a moment. "Well. Thank you, then." She snugged the badge around her arm with a still-practiced flick and tug and straightened to give Shunsui-san a familiar half-glare. "Well? What are you waiting for? There's work to do."

"I'm sure there is, somewhere," Shunsui-san murmured, probably just to see both of his vice-captains give him matching dark looks. The man definitely had bad hobbies. Well, it wasn't like anyone nice got to be a captain around here, except possibly Juushirou-san and in his case it just made him more alarming. Why had they thought this was a good idea, again?

Finally, the vice-captains who had been waiting started to come forward, and Shinji's mouth quirked. Ah, yes. That had been why.

Hisagi stepped up and knelt down at Kensei's feet, formal and proper, but the husky edge in his voice when he said "Taichou" made Shinji shake his head. Just as well they'd come back, maybe; this one wouldn't have lasted much longer on his own. The weighing look Kensei gave his vice-captain said he saw it too, and his voice was quiet as he reached down to touch Hisagi's shoulder. "Yeah. Come on and let's go see about kicking things back into shape."

Hisagi took a breath. "Yes, sir." He stood and gave Mashiro, standing at Kensei's shoulder, a respectful nod despite the alarmingly thoughtful look she was turning back and forth between him and Kensei. Shinji bit back a snort of amusement, anticipating the volume of Kensei's arguments with her if she started trying to matchmake.

Even as Hisagi stood, the other vice-captain, a lean blond with a noble-family look to him, stepped up and bowed down to the ground before Rose. "Ohtoribashi-taichou," he greeted Rose, quiet and contained.

"Kira-kun, yes? Kira Izuru?" Rose smiled with just a hint of mischief. "No hang-overs today, I hope?"

Kira looked up at that, losing his closed expression to a quick blush and a sputter. "Taichou!"

The mini-captain's curvy, amber haired vice-captain was leaning against a pillar giggling under her own captain's resigned eye and Kira shot her a slightly harried look.

Rose chuckled and beckoned Kira up with a tilt of his head. "I didn't have that long with the Third before everything came apart. You know them better, now. Tell me about them."

Kira composed himself a bit and stood. "Of course." He answered the silent crook of Rose's fingers and walked beside him as they stepped away from the gates, and Shinji's brows lifted. Rose's gestures were open and welcoming, but he was being very careful not to touch Kira at all.

Was there a single damn division that hadn't been left broken in the wake of Aizen and his merry psychos?

Certainly not his own. Shinji eyed his own vice-captain ruefully as she came to him. There were still dark smudges under her eyes, and he was pretty sure it would take some serious work before she was truly ready for duty again. Well, that was his job now and he'd do it.

"Hirako-taichou," she said, low and a little hesitant, starting to kneel formally, head bent.

"Hinamori," he returned, quietly, hands folded into his sleeves. They'd have to work on her self-confidence when she wasn't in a blazing temper, for starters. She obviously needed the forms for her own comfort, right now, but he wasn't about to spend the next hundred years with his vice-captain popping up and down from her knees at every turn. He'd say something once she was a little calmer.

She paused, though, looking up at him. Biting her lip, she slowly straightened. Shinji cocked his head and watched her, keeping his expression neutral, waiting for her to decide what she was going to do. Finally, she nodded, folded her hands in front of her and bowed from the waist. "Welcome home, Taichou," she said firmly.

Shinji smiled, slow and pleased. "There, now. That's more like it." Maybe there wasn't quite as much work to be done as he'd thought.

Hinamori's back straightened a little and she nodded back, determined.

"Are we done yet?" Hiyori growled from where she was sprawled out on the steps to the gate.

"Since the old man didn't show up so I can bawl him out right away, yeah, I think so." Shinji strolled for the stairs down. "Come on, you two."

Hinamori and Hiyori closed up at his shoulders as they followed everyone else out into the Court and Shinji grinned. He could practically feel the suspicious looks Hiyori was shooting his new vice-captain behind his back, and he might still be going to regret having made this choice, but right now he was glad he had. Politics and broken divisions and all.

Hinamori was right. They were home.

End

Kantoku Means I Love You

Some possible reasons Kiyoshi calls Aida "Riko" while Hyuuga calls her "Kantoku". Unabashed Fluff, I-2

Hyuuga Junpei could feel all his muscles protesting feebly as he hauled himself up the last step to the pedestrian overpass on his way home. The pain of the killer workout they'd all been put through for the first day of the new basketball club reminded him of other annoyances, and he glanced over his shoulder at his companion.

"And why is Kiyoshi calling you 'Riko', anyway?" he demanded.

Riko rolled her eyes so hard she nearly missed her own first step up to the walkway. "Because he said to call him Teppei, so I said to call me Riko. It would feel weird if he were 'Aida-san'ing me while I called him Teppei."

"So call him Kiyoshi, like everyone else in the school," Junpei argued. Like, for example, he did, and then it wouldn't seem like the too-perceptive, infuriatingly-determined bastard had stolen his childhood friend.

Alarmingly, Riko grinned. "Yeah, but he gets this sad expression whenever I do. It's kind of cute, actually."

Junpei hitched his bag glumly up over his shoulder and stumped down the stairs on the other side. Cute. Great.

"What's the problem with it, anyway?" Riko demanded, elbowing him as they started down the street of little shops and restaurants that led toward home. "You call me Riko, after all."

"Yeah, but..." Junpei stifled the rest of his sentence before but you invited him to could get out of his mouth. Even in his own head, that sounded stupid and childish, and if he said it out loud Riko would probably be annoyed at him. Actually, given how annoyed at him she'd been for most of the past year, she'd probably hit him. It was bad enough that she'd taken to calling him Hyuuga-kun months ago, and still hadn't stopped. "Never mind," he muttered. After a long moment, broken only by Riko's predictable distraction over the Rilakkuma phone straps being sold at the stall beside the bakery, he added, "Besides, if you're our coach, now, the whole team should be calling you Kantoku."

Riko laughed. "I could get used to that, maybe. After all, I'm going to be putting you all through hell like a good coach should."

The brightness of a good challenge lit up her whole face, and Junpei's stomach did ridiculous flip-flops just to see that. "Well then." He cleared his throat and tried to make sure he didn't sound breathless at all. "I'll rely on you. Kantoku."

She grinned up at him, and linked her arm through his for a few steps, and Junpei smiled helplessly back. He had a feeling he was going to be calling her that a lot, just to see this sparkle in her. He was clearly, completely, and totally doomed.

He was maybe kind of okay with that, though.

"So, what are you going to inflict on us tomorrow?" he asked.

The sparkle turned to a gleam, and Riko cracked her knuckles ominously. "Well, I was thinking about that..."

He listened to her planning their death from exhaustion, and nodded along agreeably, and even made a few suggestions for the footwork drills. She teased him about acting all captain-ly already, and he smiled crookedly and agreed. Captain and coach had to work together a lot, after all. No matter how big and infuriating an idiot fate had inflicted on him to drag him back to basketball, and no matter how well Kiyoshi seemed to get along with Riko, Junpei and Riko would have this. For three years, if he wasn't stupid enough to throw it away again.

Yeah, maybe he was okay with doomed.

End

Chrysanthemum Tea

Aomine reflects a bit on on the effect Kuroko's had on him, and where Kuroko has brought him to by the season's end. Spoilers for anime-only fans. Character Sketch with Drama and Fluff, I-3

Looking back, he'd felt it first during the Interhigh preliminaries when he'd seen, when he'd experienced, Tetsu's fierce rejection of despair. He'd seen a whole team lock together around Tetsu's unwillingness to give up no matter how they lost, and a flicker, just a flicker, of something like hope had brushed over that court.

It had reminded him, for an instant, of the lightness he used to feel playing with Tetsu. At least until he saw that Tetsu had understood the difference between their games, and had to wonder whether even Tetsu would be coming back after that.

When he'd been dragged to the Winter Cup preliminaries though, to see Seirin play that bastard Hanamiya, he'd remembered again. Watching Tetsu's new senpai put their game and all their chances in Tetsu's hands, watching them accept pass after twisting, unpredictable pass, he'd remembered doing that himself, trusting like that. Remembered a time it had seemed necessary. Remembered how good it had felt. To win, of course, when that had still been in doubt.

He missed that.

So he pushed them, pushed Satsuki to convince their captain to challenge Seirin directly, as soon as they knew the bracket for the Winter Cup. Pushed Kagami to understand what he had to do, if he really wanted to be a challenge. And if he also left Tetsu with his water bottle, well it wasn't like he'd forgotten they were friends just because they were enemies.

And when he'd seen them on the court, he'd known he'd been right to push. Kagami had advanced, and that was enough to please him for a while right there. But he'd also felt something at the start of the game that he'd never felt before. Tetsu's presence. Not just his determination, not just unsupported spirit, but the weight in his sense of the court created by a player who had his own strength. He wanted to taste that strength, to push against it and feel it push back, and it was a thrill just like he'd expected. Not hope, he wasn't stupid enough to hope, he told himself firmly, but a thrill. That was the best he had, these days, and the ache of knowing that made him angry and rough, even with Tetsu.

Kagami, though, Kagami was a nice surprise.

Actually, Kagami was a shock. A delicious shock. To push and find, not air, not even just resistance, but an unmoving wall, a wall that he could strain against and still not move, a wall he had to break himself open to knock down... he felt like he needed to scream with how good that was.

Just a little, he could relax against that.

And against Tetsu's ferocity, when he turned his presence outward like an explosion no one could ignore, not even him. Just a little.

Against Seirin's strength, he could relax just a little, just enough to feel it again. The need that would drive him to where the game opened up. Opened up into brilliance. Into the fire of fighting to win, burning away the numb weight of too many opponents giving up, disappearing, leaving him alone on a cold court. Now he felt the heat again, now he could fight with everything in him, push himself past his limits and feel the wildness of fire, not just of rage.

When that fire burned as high as it could go and that still wasn't enough, the shock was like glass breaking all around him. Smoked glass, and now he was squinting in sunlight. He felt like he could see again, and what he saw was Tetsu. The reason he had lost. Tetsu... and his partner, who trusted each other so much they burned like the sun.

Their assurance that it wasn't over yet was warmth to go with the light, another shock but a different kind—not just unexpected but impossible, like landing softly after a long, long fall. Such a long fall he'd long since given himself up for dead, let himself die before he even got to the bottom. Well, here was the bottom, and thanks to those two he'd bounced. The hope he'd first felt a flicker of at the start of the year, even if he hadn't been able to name it then, and the pain of losing that he'd never expected to feel again both itched at him after that, prodding him to repay them.

Which was, he told himself, why he agreed to coach Tetsu's shooting. Why he didn't want Tetsu to lose. Why it stirred something sharp in him, when he wondered whether Akashi had deliberately reduced Tetsu's strength.

Quarter-finals, at least, he could blame on Satsuki. He had less excuse for cold-cocking that idiot Shougo, after, but at least Shougo was the only one who actually heard his reasons. And it was clearly Satsuki's fault that he wound up bringing Kagami shoes for the semi-finals. But he couldn't really pretend that his brief match with Kagami, then, was anything other than a deliberate teaching game; not under the calm knowing of Tetsu's eyes, and his tiny smile. Still, he knew he owed them, and it was easy enough to tell himself that was why.

He didn't really break until the final match. Watching them on the court, the way they held each other up and drove each other forward, he knew that he wanted to touch that again. Wanted to taste that kind of trust again. Wanted the light that his shadow brought with him. That was why he laughed, no matter how strange a look Satsuki gave him. It was Tetsu's victory, all right, complete and inescapable.

When the match ended, maybe he'd find Tetsu and tell him so.

End

A/N: In hanakotoba, chrysanthemum indicate truth (saving gold chrysanthemum, which are the crest of the imperial family). In Chinese traditional medicine, chrysanthemum is also used for clarifying vision or reducing eye-strain.

Bellflowers Ring Silently

Aomine is straying. Kagami is enthusiastic. Momoi has a plan. And Riko is going to make this all come out right, no matter how many basketball idiots of either gender she has to wrangle to do it. Drama with Developing Friendship, I-3

Aida Riko didn't like Momoi Satsuki. The girl was far too presumptuous, for one thing, and for another all of Riko's idiot boys were too busy ogling Momoi every time they met to remember that this was a scout, this was a spy, this was the enemy, with a better analytical head on her shoulders than even Teppei. It wasn't better than Riko's, though, which was why she had the sense to be wary. So when her phone chimed in the middle of practice, and the name at the top of the message was Momoi's, Riko was instantly on guard.

And then she read it and was just puzzled.

Send dai-chan back pls. Captain very upset.

"Who on earth...?" Riko muttered to herself, frowning. It took a minute to connect Dai-chan with Aomine Daiki, and then she rolled her eyes.

Middle of practice. she sent back. Why would he be he

"You guys are still going? Jeez, take a break already."

Riko glanced up at the unfamiliar voice, and her thumb skidded across her phone when she saw Aomine Daiki leaning around the outside door, eyeing Seirin's practice with disgruntlement.

"Aomine-kun," Kuroko greeted him, a little breathless where he was chinning himself up on the bars set into the wall, as per Riko's orders. "Are you skipping practice again?"

"Yes, he is," Riko snapped. "And apparently his captain is angry about it, which I can completely understand."

Aomine just flicked his fingers carelessly, downright lounging in the door frame. "He gets pissed off over everything." Then he paused and cocked his head at her. "How do you know?"

Riko waved her phone. "Your keeper texted, asking us to send you back." Then she saw her screen and paused to glare at it. She'd hit send when Aomine startled her, and now Momoi had replied, Told you so.

"Satsuki's always interfering," Aomine said, watching her under his lashes. "No reason to do her errands for her, right?"

Riko hesitated, torn between not wanting to do Momoi's errands and being a responsible coach, and also being annoyed that this too-tall, too-talented brat had seen exactly how she was feeling.

"Aomine!" Kagami had finally noticed their visitor, and stopped noticing anything else including the formation he was supposed to be practicing. The ball flew straight past him as he stepped toward the doors, showing his teeth. "Here for a rematch?"

"Isn't that supposed to be for the one who lost?" Aomine shot back with a lazy, equally toothy, smile. "Last I checked, that was you."

"Try me again!"

Riko rubbed her forehead. "Both of you shut up!" she barked. "Kagami, get back to work or I'll triple your training drills! And you," she rounded on Aomine, who had the good sense to look just a little uneasy as she marched towards him. "If you want a match with any of my players, you can just get your coach to set it up with me. Now out!" She body-checked him out the door, ignoring his squawk of protest. "You have your own practice to be at."

"But the drills are boring." He gave her a downright pleading look that nearly made her doubt her own memory of him on the court, as dark and sharp there as he was open and entreating now. "Just one match?"

She could hear Kagami, inside, asking Hyuuga the same thing, and scrubbed a hand over her face. "If you wait quietly out here and don't interfere," she said, irresistibly reminded of certain small cousins she'd babysat for, and negotiations over bedtime, "you can have a one-on-one after practice ends. A short one."

He grinned at her, bright and happy and wicked around the edges. "Okay!" He hopped up to sit on the edge of the tall planters that lined the walk around the building.

Riko shook her head and went back in, closing the door firmly behind her. Maybe Momoi deserved more credit than she'd thought, if she had to manage that one every day. She looked up to see Kagami, Kagami of all people! giving her puppy-dog eyes.

"Kantoku?" he asked, hopefully.

"You really are like a pair of little kids," she sighed. "After practice. If you pay attention."

Kagami brightened up just like Aomine had. "Yes, ma'am!" He bounded back to his place on the court, and Riko exchanged a look of helpless amusement with Hyuuga.

At least Kuroko was still calmly working through his repetitions on the bars, even if there was a tiny smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

Not coming back, Riko texted Momoi. Promised 121 later to stop him interfering. Cptn should put leash on him.

Will go shopping today, came back, and even in a text message Riko could tell she was exasperated. She sympathized.

Can put him in your practice? Momoi sent, hopefully, two weeks (and three more visits) later.

Riko stabbed at her phone in aggravation. Show opponent all our tactics, sure right.

Trade. Will put kagamin in our practice when he comes.

Riko blinked at the text in disbelief. "What is this supposed to be, foreign exchange?" Why would kagami be at touou?

All Momoi sent back was: ...

Riko pursed her lips, looking up at her court, where Kagami and Aomine were dodging around each other, ball flashing through their hands almost faster than the eye could follow. Finally Aomine broke past Kagami and made a clean shot. "I win," he said, as he landed. "Again."

"Once more!" Kagami shot back, teeth bared at Aomine even though his eyes were practically sparkling.

Aomine smirked. "You're way more than one down, you know."

"Either say no, or gimme the damn ball."

Aomine bounced the ball across to Kagami, laughing.

Hyuuga, the only one who had stayed late with her to watch, shook his head in disbelief. "I think I love basketball as much as the next person..."

"The next basketball idiot anyway," she agreed, flipping her phone closed with a sigh.

He ignored that, or maybe just accepted it; Hyuuga was a smart guy sometimes. "...but those two are something else. I think Kagami has actually skipped a meal for this."

Riko thought about that, and looked down at her phone, and turned around to bang her head against the gymnasium stage a few times. "Why does she have to be right about this?" she asked, muffled. If Kagami was willing to skip meals to play Aomine it wouldn't take long at all before he really was sneaking off to Touou for more.

"Momoi-san predicted it?" a quiet voice asked from right beside her, and Riko jumped. Right. Of course Kuroko had also stayed behind to watch. It was her own fault for not paying attention, the way she'd learned to during practice itself. She took a long breath to slow her heart rate back down, and managed not to glare when she looked up. Kuroko was perched on the edge of the stage, looking down at her with wide, steady eyes. "Momoi-san knows Aomine-kun very well. And Kagami-kun is a lot like him."

"I noticed." Riko turned around again, letting her shoulders thump back against the stage, and accepted the silent support of Hyuuga's arm pressed against hers. "So, yes, he probably will be sneaking off to Touou pretty soon, now." How was she going to manage this? It wouldn't be an entirely bad thing if it weren't for Kagami's strategic obliviousness...

"We have a leash for the dog, we can get one for Kagami too," Hyuuga said darkly, and Riko grinned up at him. Great minds thought alike.

After a long moment, Kuroko spoke up again. "Aomine-kun is a better analyst than Kagami-kun, right now."

Kuroko saw the real problem too. "Mm. That's what I'm really concerned about, yes." Riko watched Kagami finally out-leap Aomine's guard to slam the ball home. Both of them went immediately for another point, this time, and Riko sighed, exasperated. Enough was enough, and she didn't want Kagami to over-strain himself. "Kuroko-kun, go stop them."

Kuroko hopped down from the stage and trotted obediently out onto the court. Riko watched him watch the flow of the match for a moment before stepping into it and effortlessly stealing the ball, holding it while both his current and previous partner protested the interruption loudly. Kuroko really did have an amazing eye for the game, and she swore by the time she graduated she and Hyuuga were going to get him to use that eye for more than his own plays. He waited out Kagami and Aomine's complaints and said a few quiet words, pointing to the clock on the wall. Eventually, they both gave in and made for their bags against the wall by the door. Kuroko, responsible as ever, put the ball away neatly in the bin before following after. The three of them pushed through the outside door, Kagami and Aomine still arguing over their match while Kuroko, between them, listened with silent amusement.

"Momoi suggests we can just trade them off, incorporate them both into both practices, wherever they happen to be," she said quietly, once they were gone. "But that won't be an even trade when it comes to what they pick up about an opponent's team. If it weren't for that, I might consider it. It would certainly help Kagami a great deal to train against Aomine with any regularity."

Hyuuga was looking a little alarmed. "Kantoku. You're talking about Seirin and Touou playing tournament matches when we already know what the other team is capable of. What kind of game would that be?"

"A challenging one. You like that, right?" Riko's mouth tilted in a crooked smile. "Momoi seems to have a lot of that information on her books already. It might be very useful to equalize that advantage." Hyuuga paused, obviously just as caught by the notion as she'd been. If only it could work. She was almost regretting that Kagami couldn't analyze his opponents on anything but an instinctive level, yet, not like...

Slowly Riko straightened, eyes widening.

"Kantoku?" Hyuuga asked, warily.

Riko snapped her phone open with a flick of her wrist, and her thumb danced over it as she wrote out, Kagami and kuroko both to touou and I agree.

There was a long pause before the answer came back, and when it finally did Riko let herself giggle with wicked satisfaction.

Hyuuga paled. "Kantoku, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to send Kuroko along." She held up the phone for him to see.

Agreed.

It took another few days before Aomine snuck off to visit them again, and Riko couldn't quite restrain herself from skipping now and then. Her club kept giving her nervous looks, though she was sure she had no idea why they should. She supposed, on reflection, she might have hummed a little, too.

When Aomine finally showed up, peeking in the outside doors to wave at Kagami and Kuroko, she pounced on him. "There you are! Get in here, Aomine-kun, you're taking part in drills today!"

"Oh, she has plans for him," Furihata whispered, in a tone of relief. "Whew!"

"Don't relax yet, they might still be plans for us too!" Kawahara hissed back.

Riko smiled serenely. It was good to keep her boys on their toes.

"Drills?" Aomine blinked at her as she strolled up to him. "Oh come on, I came here to get away from drill--ow!"

Riko marched him into the gym, fingers locked firmly on his ear. "Too bad. You're here. You're practicing." Her boys were looking at her with a bit of awe, and she gave them a sunny smile. "Now." She let Aomine go and folded her arms. "Take off your shirt and let me get a look at you."

"What?!" Aomine looked faintly scandalized. Hyuuga was clearly stifling a laugh as he came and patted Aomine reassuringly on the shoulder.

"She's our trainer; she wants to get a look at what kind of condition you're in. Go on."

"But..." Aomine gave her a rather wide-eyed look. "No, seriously..."

"Aomine-kun." Kuroko, in the middle of the rotating line for lay-up practice runs, looked over at them with an ever so faintly admonishing expression. He didn't say anything else, but Aomine grimaced a little, breath sighing out. Riko chalked up another example of Kuroko's ability to manage his teammates; she was starting to wonder if they should make him the captain, year after next.

"Oh all right." Aomine stripped off his shirt and stood giving her a suspicious look.

Riko took a good look at his body, frowning, pushing aside her eternal amazement over his sheer strength and potential to study the whole picture instead. "Hmm." She hadn't been sure, just watching him slouching around, and it was hard to see very well in the middle of one of his wild matches with Kagami, but her suspicion had been right. Aomine wasn't standing quite square. She walked around him, studying his back. "Hmmmm." Finally, she came around in front of him again, studying the curve of his spine and ribs as she went, and nodded sharply. "All right. Get dressed." As soon as Aomine's head emerged from the neck of his T-shirt again, she gave him a stern look. "I'm not surprised Momoi-kun wanted me to take a look at you. You're right on the edge of some acute injuries, especially if you keep playing the way you are with Kagami-kun."

Aomine shot her a skeptical glance, running his hands through his hair. "You can tell that just by looking?"

"You aren't standing square," Riko pointed out. "You're pulling up just a little short on your right leg, and that's contracting your core muscles on the left, trying to compensate. Your lower back, especially, is weaker than it should be, and you're putting extra strain on your shoulders and chest. That's heading straight for a torn pectoral, and your knees will be in danger, too, if you don't strengthen your hip and lower back muscles again." Aomine's eyes had been widening all through the lecture, turning uncertain as he tried reflexively to adjust his stance and probably felt the muscles pulling. Riko set her hands on her hips, scolding. "You can't let yourself get out of condition like that, Aomine-kun! You should know better!"

"It's never been a problem," Aomine protested, looking shifty even as he said it.

Riko narrowed her eyes at him. "No excuses! You're going to train properly whenever you're here, and that's final! I'm not having any injuries happening in my gym."

"What kind of training properly?" Aomine hedged, though Riko could tell he was weakening. She smiled at him, sweet as honey.

"Oh, dreadfully boring ones." She stepped up nose-to-nose, or at least nose-to-chest, and he edged back. "Which will keep you from having all the wonderful excitement of a serious injury, you idiot." She folded her arms and delivered the finishing stroke. "And no games with Kagami unless I'm satisfied you're making sufficient progress in your re-conditioning."

He finally gave in with a sigh, shoulders slumping. "Yeah, yeah, all right."

One last push. Riko glared at him again. "What was that, Aomine-kun? I didn't quite catch it."

One corner of his mouth quirked up. "Yes, Kantoku."

"Better!" She patted his arm. "Now, don't worry, we'll start easy. Give me fifty side planks, twenty seconds each, and then you can join in the sprints."

Someone on the court, where they had all been eavesdropping shamelessly, squeaked with shock. Aomine, on the other hand, just grinned, eyes lighting up with a little spark. "No problem."

Riko smiled with satisfaction that she'd struck the right note with him, presented this training as both a benefit and a challenge. She kept an eye on him as he went to pull down a mat to work on, and took out her phone.

Could have just said you wanted evaluation of him.

Wheres the fun in that? Momoi sent back a minute later, and Riko rolled her eyes. Dai-chan okay? came a moment later.

Will be, Riko typed back. Close thing. Watch him.

Can have kagamin for bait pls? Riko could almost see Momoi batting her lashes innocently, and snorted.

Will send next week. Kuroko too. Better keep them in shape.

Been doing that for years.

For the first time since the Winter Cup, Riko thought about what it might have been like to manage a team like Teikou while the captain and coach let the whole lot of them run wild in the name of victory.

Not you alone, she texted back. Will be okay now.

It wasn't until five minutes later that her phone chimed with a reply, and Riko fished it out while calling to Koganei to set his feet better before his next sprint.

Thanks.

She closed the phone again and went back to her job, and if she carried a little smile with her, well, none of the boys needed to know why.

One of the things Satsuki had most looked forward to, about Kagami and Tetsu-kun visiting Touou, was watching Wakamatsu-senpai try to deal with Tetsu-kun.

"So try to keep up!"

"Of course." Tetsu-kun stood perfectly calm and attentive, watching Wakamatsu-senpai.

"And... and don't get in anyone's way!"

"Understood." Tetsu-kun waited politely.

Wakamatsu-senpai ran a hand through his hair, clearly bewildered by all the relentless courtesy. "Yeah, well. Just... go get changed."

Tetsu-kun bobbed an agreeable and unflappable bow and herded Kagami off to the side while Touou's captain stalked back to practice, shaking his head. Dai-chan finally stopped laughing long enough lead them to the changing room, and came back still grinning. "That was beautiful," he said, lounging against the edge of the stage beside her.

"Just remember, you're supposed to train properly today or no game with Kagamin later," she reminded him. Dai-chan made a face.

"Yeah, yeah, fine." He muttered some further uncomplimentary things under his breath, but they were mostly directed at Riko-san, so Satsuki let him complain. If Dai-chan didn't realize who had really started this plan, that was actually fine with her. She didn't like having to fight with him. That reminded her, though, and she pulled out her phone to text Riko-san.

Both here. Everything fine. Have a nice day!

A minute later, the reply came back, dryness rising almost visibly off the screen. Good luck. Middle of practice here. Shoo.

Satsuki grinned to herself as she closed the phone again. She was finding that she liked teasing Riko-san, and she thought just maybe Riko-san was finding the whole thing funny too.

"Floor work!" Wakamatsu-senpai yelled as Kagami and Tetsu-kun emerged again. "Break out the mats!"

Dai-chan sighed like it was dragged up from his toes, and slouched over to follow Tetsu-kun as he led both Kagami and Dai-chan promptly over to the stack of rough, blue mats against the wall. Dai-chan and Kagami eyed each other narrowly as they grabbed the same mat, and Satsuki rolled her eyes. She did it extra hard, because she was pretty sure she was doing it for Tetsu-kun also, though he never showed it.

It was an odd day of practice, full of hesitations as people paused to watch Dai-chan breezing through every exercise, or Kagami bursting through them, or Tetsu-kun working his way patiently and sometimes awkwardly through them. It was that last that Satsuki heard murmurs starting over, among little knots of players waiting to shoot or sprint or get one of the baskets for guard practice.

"...the hell..."

"...really from Teikou?"

"...different in a game, but seriously..."

As yet another of Tetsu-kun's lay-ups bounced off the rim, Yoshita-senpai finally said, a little more loudly, "This is a regular from the championship team?"

Yoshita-senpai should, Satsuki thought dispassionately, have remembered who he was currently on a three-man team with. Kagami made a long arm without moving from where he stood, wrapped his fingers in the front of Yoshita-senpai's shirt, and dragged him in close.

"When you can play the way he does," Kagami's growl nearly echoed, "and keep going the way he does, then you can talk. Until then, shut your ignorant face."

Yoshita-senpai, nearly hauled up off his feet, held up placating hands. "Right, sure, whatever you say."

Tetsu-kun slipped back into line for another run, apparently oblivious to the whole thing, and to Dai-chan looming on the other side of the court with a nasty look in his eye.

"Kagami and Aomine really are two of a kind, aren't they?" someone said in Satsuki's ear, and she turned her head to smile ruefully up at Imayoshi-senpai.

"In some ways. Shouldn't you be studying, senpai?"

He gave her an innocent look, leaning crossed arms on the back of her chair. "I heard you'd gotten Aomine-kun to come to practice, and wanted to witness the historic event for myself."

"He's complained the whole time, but he's stayed." Satsuki shrugged. "It's a start. I think he took Riko-san seriously, too."

The teasing smile slid off Imayoshi-senpai's face. "Good. Kantoku was getting worried about that."

"He was right to be." Satsuki wrapped her arms around herself for a moment, pushing away the thought of how much danger Dai-chan had been putting himself in. "But I think this approach will work out."

Out on the court, Tetsu-kun paused abruptly in the middle of shooting. "Aomine-kun. Kagami-kun," he said, firm and clear, not taking his eyes off the hoop.

Satsuki looked around sharply, and scowled to see both Dai-chan and Kagami frozen in the act of sidling toward the outside door, Dai-chan with a ball under one arm.

"Have you got eyes in the back of your head or what?" Kagami snapped, looking guilty.

Dai-chan just sighed. "Yeah, he does," he muttered.

Tetsu-kun finished his shot and turned to look at them expectantly. Dai-chan and Kagami gave in and trudged back toward the court. Satsuki had to bite back a giggle when Tetsu-kun smiled, small and approving, because Aomine lightened up a little and Kagami scowled off to the side, coloring faintly.

No one said a single word about Tetsu-kun's performance in the day's exercises after that.

"I don't suppose we can keep him?" Imayoshi-senpai asked her, just a little wistful.

Satsuki imagined Riko-san's reply, if she texted to ask that, and laughed some more. "Probably not. But this should be enough." She smiled softly as Kagami and Dai-chan argued over who got to have Tetsu-kun on his side for the next mini-game, watching how Dai-chan's eyes turned bright and alive as he leaned toward Kagami and how Tetsu-kun let them argue, tolerant and amused. "It'll be enough, now."

She'd been afraid, for a long time, that her boys were broken beyond repair, but she wasn't afraid any more. Watching them catch fire off each other, she couldn't be afraid of anything. If she'd loved Tetsu-kun before, for his kindness, it was nothing to what she felt now, knowing he'd seen what had to be done and made it happen. It was enough to inspire anyone, and she smiled secretly at the thought, because she'd finally realized something. Her plan didn't have to stop here. Her hand snuck down to touch her phone, and her smile widened.

Riko tapped her toe, arms folded, as she waited for Momoi under the awning of Kaijou's sports complex, feeling conspicuous in another school's uniform. Momoi, nearly skipping up the walk, seemed to feel no such thing, arriving at Riko's side with a bounce in her step and smiling down at her cheerily. Riko was irritated all over again by the girl's height and finally asked what she'd been thinking for months. "Why are you hanging around the boy's basketball team instead of playing on the girl's like you obviously could?"

Momoi widened her eyes. "Well, I suppose could, yes, but I really think I'm just not built for it. All the jumping would make things bounce an awful lot."

Riko wanted to be annoyed by that dig, too, but there was such a sparkle of mischief in Momoi's eyes, so much happier than the girl had been in the spring and summer, that it tugged an unwilling smile out of her. "Speaking of the problems with natural talent," she murmured instead, and took some satisfaction in the peal of laughter she surprised out of Momoi. "Are you sure we need to take things this far?" she asked, more seriously.

Momoi sobered and nodded. "Yes, Riko-san. I'm sure. Midorin has his new partner to look after him, and I think Himuro-san will keep an eye on Muk-kun. But the one who looked after Ki-chan was Kasamatsu-san. And he's retired from the club, now."

"I don't know whether I should call you an amazing scout or an amazing stalker," Riko sighed, and twitched her uniform cuffs down, straightening. "All right, let's do it."

Kaijou's coach glowered at them as soon as they appeared in the door of the gymnasium. "You again," he said, eyeing Riko in particular, and she couldn't help beaming back at him, immensely cheered by the professional vote of enmity. "What do you want now? Wasn't twice enough for you?"

"Actually, Takeuchi-kantoku, we were hoping we could offer a little help with a potential problem." Riko smoothed her smile into something a little more serious, and opened her hand at Momoi.

Momoi nearly sparkled at the poor man. "I think we can all agree that managing an ex-regular from Teikou sometimes takes unusual measure, yes? There's an arrangement that's been working out very well so far..."

"This is something I never expected to see."

Riko looked around to find Kise smiling down at her. "What are you and Satsuki-chan both doing here?" he asked, tossing sweat-soaked hair back off his face.

Riko looked him critically up and down, and nodded to herself; Momoi had been right on target. "You've been pushing your training too hard, Kise-kun," she said, loud enough for Takeuchi-san to hear. "You're going to over-train, at this rate." She really didn't like the twitch in his calf muscles; that suggested he'd been working far too repetitively.

"It isn't that bad, Aida-san!" Kise waved her concern off, laughing, but she thought there was a brittle edge to it. "I haven't been doing that much..."

"Kise," Takeuchi-san cut him off, frowning. "Exactly how much after-hours training have you been doing?"

Now Kise definitely looked guilty. "Not that much, really," he offered, but his eyes fell away from his coach's.

"I think you can see our concern, Takeuchi-kantoku," Momoi murmured, utterly unmoved by the tragically betrayed look Kise gave her.

Takeuchi-san growled under his breath, arms folded grumpily, and Riko caught, "...bad as her damn father..." That made something in her glow, warm and happy, and she waited with her best copy of Kuroko's attentive expression while he thought it over. Finally Takeuchi-san sighed. "All right, fine. You made your point, and I suppose we can risk a little experimenting during the off-season. I'll give you a month to convince me this isn't as insane as it sounds."

Riko bowed smoothly. "Thank you, Takeuchi-kantoku. We'll contact you about scheduling."

He harumphed and turned back to his team's practice while Kise looked at Riko and Momoi warily. "What is this all about?"

Momoi attached herself to his arm, smiling up at him. "It's about trading you and Dai-chan and Kagamin around, to let you play each other more. Tetsu-kun, too, mostly to make Dai-chan and Kagamin behave."

Riko had thought Kise seemed brittle. She hadn't realized just how well he was hiding it until he lit up at Momoi's words, shoulders falling open and easy all at once. "Trading...? You mean, officially, we'd be allowed?"

Momoi's smile had turned gentle, and her voice matched it. "Yes. All above-board and everything. We'll make it work."

Kise covered her hand on his arm with his own, taking a slow breath, just a little shaky. "Thanks, Satsuki-chan." After a moment, he remembered Riko too and bobbed a nod to her. "Aida-san."

"If you're going to be showing up at my team's practices, you should get used to calling me Aida-kantoku," she told him wryly. "You'd better get back to your own practice, now, before your coach gets annoyed." She held up a stern finger. "And no more than one hour extra practice after! Don't think I won't ask Momoi whether you're going over time!"

Kise ducked his head, rueful. "Yes, Aida-kantoku."

"Better." She slung her bag over her shoulder and cocked her head at Momoi. "Ready?"

Momoi gave Kise one last hug, and joined her. "Ready."

They were almost at the school gates before Riko said, quietly, "They're still a unit, aren't they? Even now they're separated."

"Mm." Momoi fiddled with the strap of her phone. "They're... special to each other. Sometimes I think they only became what they are because they were all together at Teikou, and pushed each other forward. Well," she smiled ruefully, "you've seen how Dai-chan and Kagamin are."

Always pushing each other, and loving every second of it, Riko filled in. Almost obsessed with each other, and they probably would be if Kuroko weren't there to rein them in a little.

When she caught herself thinking that, Riko stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk and scrubbed both hands through her hair. "Argh!"

Momoi stepped back a pace, blinking. "Riko-san...?"

What the hell was she thinking, relying on another first-year to manage her own players?! She was losing her mind, falling prey to the insanity that seemed to strike every coach who had to deal with a Miracle Generation player. Well nuts to that! Riko straightened her shoulders, glaring at the air in front of her. "Satsuki-san," she rapped out, "I am not leaving them to muddle through this on their own. They have senpai, now, and we will take care of them." She jammed her hands on her hips and spun on her heel to face Satsuki, seeing with new eyes the fear and stress at the corners of her teasing smiles. "And you have senpai, now, too, got that? We're in this together, and we'll keep them together."

Satsuki stared at her for a long, blank moment before a different smile crept over her lips, a little shaky as it went. "Yes, Riko-san." She was laughing a bit as she answered, but Riko didn't miss the liquid flash of brightness in her eyes.

"Good," she said, gentler, and held out a hand. "Don't worry. We'll make sure it's all right. Right?"

Satsuki reached out and shook her hand firmly, smile steadying. "Right."

"Let's get going, then."

They talked, all the way home, about how to best schedule rotations, considering that one of their problem children was a captain now, and how to handle things once tournament season started and they faced each other as opponents. It wasn't until later that night that Riko got a text about the other things that had been said.

Thank you, Riko-senpai.

Riko smiled down at her phone, shaking her head. "Way too long without senpai, the whole lot of you," she whispered, and tapped a text back before putting the phone away and getting ready for bed, and the next day.

You're welcome, Satsuki-chan.

End

A/N: In hanakotoba, bell-flowers indicate gratitude.

White Camellias Turning Red

Aomine decides that, if Kagami isn't going anywhere, he has to be included. This gives Kuroko a moment of uncertainty, but the direct approach might be the best one after all. Porn, Romance, Fluff, I-4

Aomine Daiki loved a really good game of basketball. As far as he was concerned, it was the best thing in the world, even better than sex.

He actually spoke from knowledge, there. Some people got all starry eyed over anyone with talent, and some people got turned on by anything that looked dangerous. So there had been kisses and groping with girls in school who giggled over it, and there had been hand jobs in the locker room with other boys who weren't sure whether they idolized him or feared him, and there'd been a few women out on the streets who made speculative comments about his height, and there'd been that one guy on a street court who bet a good fuck on their game and he'd been a man and anted up when he lost, even though he'd had to tell Daiki what to do.

Daiki felt he had some basis for saying good basketball was better than sex, but hell, it had been something to try so he had.

What he hadn't thought about until recently was that it might be possible to combine good basketball with sex. He hadn't thought it until the night he'd come to Kaijou to play Kise and stayed so late they were the only ones in the shower. He'd watched the stream of water running down Kise's back and reached out to follow it with his fingers, and Kise had turned and looked at him with eyes still hot and focused from their game. He figured, afterwards, that Kise's experience probably came from a lot the same places his did. It was easy with Kise, and neither of them took the sex for anything but was it was: a way to stay in the place they found when they played.

Tetsu and Kagami, though... that was harder to figure out.

Daiki knew he felt a little differently about Tetsu, his oldest friend after Satsuki, his partner, the one who'd left and come back all to pull him out of the hole he'd fallen down. Tetsu had come back even after Daiki had pushed him down that hole too, something that still made him flinch when he thought about it. Tetsu was... special.

Tetsu, who had a new partner, now.

Tetsu, who welcomed Daiki wherever they met, who smiled at him again, who rested his hand against Daiki's back when Daiki flopped down across his lap during practice. Who scolded him for slacking off in a way that was so familiar it made Daiki's chest clench, made him trail along after Tetsu just to hear more of it. Who smiled at and scolded Kagami just the same way.

And Daiki couldn't damn well strangle Kagami for it, because Kagami was one of his best rivals these days, one of the painfully few who could even begin to call himself that. Daiki thought it might just kill him to lose Kagami again after finally, finally finding someone like him to play. So there was really only one thing to do, and Daiki had decided to do it tonight.

He laughed as he slammed the ball in past Kagami one last time. "Ten! Another game to me, and you pay for food!" He touched down on the cracked asphalt of the little park court and grinned at Kagami, taunting. Tetsu had left them to it half an hour ago, after reminding Kagami of their test the next day with an edge of resignation that said he didn't expect Kagami to listen.

Kagami caught his balance and straightened up, breathing hard, eyes still bright with challenge. "Fuck you! One more time!"

Daiki thought he really might be just a little in love. Well, that made it easier.

"One more time to fuck you?" he purred, showing his teeth. "Yeah, we could do that too."

Kagami paused for a long moment, blinking at him. "...wait, what?"

And it was too easy, really. Too easy to take one long stride that brought him right up against Kagami, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him after their game tonight, and wind his fingers in Kagami's shirt, and catch his mouth fast and hard. The sound Kagami made was startled, but his hands found Daiki right away, spreading against his ribs sure and easy. Daiki made an interested noise at that.

When he finally let Kagami go, Kagami stared at him with disbelief, though he still hadn't backed off either. "What the hell was that?"

Daiki shrugged easily. "Seemed like a logical next step." He watched, entertained, while Kagami opened and closed his mouth a few times, and finally kissed him again to stop him.

"Mmm... Mm! Wait, wait, wait." Kagami pushed him back a little, frowning. "What about Kuroko? I mean, you're... with him... well, it's obvious okay?"

Daiki gave him an aggravated look. Why couldn't Kagami just shut up and get down to the screwing, like everyone else? "That's why, idiot. He's not going to be happy leaving you out of it, so I'm fucking stuck with you. Might as well make the best of it." Grudgingly, he added, "And also it gets pretty heated up when we play like this, though I gotta say you're wasting all of that by talking."

Kagami stared at him for a long, silent moment, and Daiki watched his expression slowly change, through confusion, disbelief, exasperation, sneaking pleasure. Eventually, it settled on a tilted kind of amusement. "What the hell. This I've gotta see." His hands tightened, and he pulled Daiki back against him, tipping his chin up a bit to catch Daiki's mouth in turn.

That was better, and Daiki cheerfully wound himself around Kagami, sucking on his tongue. The feel of Kagami's arms locking around him made him purr, and he slid his hands down Kagami's back, groping his ass. It was a nice handful. He laughed into Kagami's mouth when Kagami growled and pushed a leg between his thighs.

"God, you're pushy," Kagami muttered.

"You're surprised?" Daiki mocked, and smiled when Kagami snorted.

"Fuck no."

Daiki laughed outright at that, amused by the way Kagami's language was sliding even further down the scale than usual, and bent his head to bite at the taut line of tendon running down Kagami's neck. That got him a satisfying thrust of hips against his. Satisfying for now, but not enough, so he closed his mouth and sucked.

"Ngh!"

Daiki smiled, eyes half lidded, at the feel of Kagami's hold on him tightening, hard enough to drive his breath out. Yeah. This was what he wanted. He relaxed into it, flowing with the flex of Kagami's muscles like he'd flow with a game, biting back up Kagami's neck until he found his mouth again, hot and intent against Daiki's. He laughed low in his throat when Kagami turned to push him against the the pole under the basket. He leaning back against it and hooking a leg around Kagami to pull him in tight. The breath Kagami sucked in when Daiki slid a hand down the back of his shorts to grip bare skin was plenty of compensation for the press of the pole's plastic padding against his spine. He slid his fingers between Kagami's cheeks and made a pleased sound when Kagami jerked against him.

"Did you plan this, or was it spur of the moment thing?" Kagami asked against his ear, fingers digging into Daiki's back.

"Mm, pretty spur of the moment," Daiki admitted, rubbing slowly.

Kagami's hips ground against him. "Then that's as far as you go," he gritted between his teeth.

Daiki's brows rose. Kagami knew what he was doing, here. That was good to know.

Knowing didn't keep him from bucking a little with the surprise when Kagami yanked down the waistband of Daiki's shorts, dragging his underwear down with them, and wrapped his fingers around Daiki's cock. "Shit," he gasped, "Kagami..." The pole padding was cold against his bare ass, and he squirmed a little.

It was Kagami's turn to laugh, low and breathless, fingers tightening. "More later, maybe, yeah?" He kissed Daiki again, slower this time, deliberate like his hand was deliberate, stroking up and down Daiki's cock.

A spark of challenge danced up Daiki's spine, hot and excited, and he plunged his other hand into Kagami's shorts too, fondling him from the front and back at once. The way Kagami moaned into his mouth tasted good, and Kagami's fingers felt good wrapped around him, warm in the cool night air and strong in a way that made Daiki's excitement burn hotter.

But no matter how Daiki touched him, dragging his fist up and down Kagami's cock, rubbing his fingers in ruthlessly hard circles over Kagami's entrance, those slow kisses didn't speed up. They just got deeper. It wasn't what Daiki was used to, but it felt good. It felt like Kagami was really paying attention to him. He liked that thought a lot.

Daiki hung on as long as he could, but when Kagami bucked into his fist, when Kagami moaned into his mouth, pressed up full length against him, when Kagami's fingers tightened and stroked down him like Kagami wanted to memorize the texture of him... well, he dared anyone to hold steady through that. He pulled roughly away from the kiss and buried his head against Kagami's shoulder as pleasure wrung out his whole body.

The weight of Kagami leaning against him was actually kind of nice, too, he decided in the floating daze after.

"Hope you have an extra towel," Kagami mumbled against his neck. "Mine's back in the locker room."

Daiki laughed.

Kagami wouldn't quite look at him while they got cleaned up, which had Daiki smirking. "Shy?" he finally prodded.

"Oh shut up." Kagami threw the towel at him, scowling, and added, "You get to explain your own insanity to Kuroko, if that's what the point of this is."

"Won't have to." Daiki balled up his towel and stuffed it into the bottom of his bag, concentrating on his hands instead of what he was admitting. "He knows me. Knows you too, now. He'll see it." And then he'd know he didn't have to choose.

Kagami heaved a vast sigh, and he had his hands on his hips when Daiki looked up. "Yeah, maybe he will, and then what's he going to think? Unless you actually open your idiot mouth and tell him that this is all for his sake and not just you and me hooking up, which is what I'm saying you should do." Not completely under his breath, he muttered, "Miracles my ass, the lot of you are total morons off the court."

"Says the guy getting twelves on his tests?" Daiki shot back, having been at Seirin the day their coach saw some of Kagami's exam papers that he'd stuffed into the bottom of his locker.

"That was in History!" Kagami snapped. "It's different here, how the hell am I supposed to catch up all at once?"

"I dunno, actually knowing how to read, maybe?"

The deflection worked, and they bickered all the way down the road to Daiki's turn-off toward the station. But Kagami's words stayed with him. Maybe, Daiki admitted grudgingly, he was good for something besides basketball.

Maybe.

Sometimes.

So what was he going to say to Tetsu?

Daiki had about a week to think about it, and then he had Seirin's practice hours during which he didn't have much time to think about it, because Aida Riko was a demon in girl-shape.

"Footwork drills?" Okay, he admitted it, he was whining a little.

She folded her arms forbiddingly. "With your style, in particular, you absolutely cannot afford to slack off on exercises to strengthen your lateral movement muscles." She pointed an imperious finger at the tapes set up on one side of the gym, looking like an insane cross between an obstacle course and a hopscotch grid. "Go! Kagami, you could stand to run this one too, but if I catch you trying to do it at Aomine's speed you'll wish you'd never been born."

Kagami closed his mouth on whatever he'd been about to argue, and muttered, "Yes, Kantoku."

The footwork drill was challenging, enough to actually keep his attention, and he had a good laugh when Aida-kantoku scolded Kagami for jumping bits of it, despite his argument that he was practicing his best skill. But all the while, in the back of his head, he was aware of Tetsu's eyes on them, measuring. When official practice was over, and they were waiting for Tetsu's senpai to finish their individual training so Daiki and Kagami could play, he wandered over to hop up beside Tetsu on the stage and sprawled across his knees as usual.

Tetsu hesitated a moment before he rested his hand in its usual place on Daiki's back.

Kagami ostentatiously scooped up Tetsu's water bottle along with his own and sauntered toward the east doors and the sinks to refill them. Daiki sighed; yeah, he got the point already. He was talking. "So, about Kagami," he started.

Tetsu's hand lightened, as if to lift at any moment. "The two of you settled something."

"Well, he's your partner now," Daiki muttered under the smack of balls against hardwood and the echo of Aida-kantoku's orders, resting his chin on his folded arms. "You wouldn't like it if I tried to cut him out. So."

"So?" Tetsu prodded after a long moment. "So... this?"

"So there was nothing to do but include him, if I want to be with you," Daiki said, a little annoyed at having to state the obvious.

After a long, still moment that kind of wore on Daiki's nerves, Tetsu let out a small huff of laughter. His hand rested on Daiki's back firmly, again, and Daiki settled at that. That was better. He watched Kagami coming back with the water bottles with half closed eyes, finally feeling properly lazy again. Kagami leaned against the side of the stage, eyeing them, and shook his head.

"You're both crazy. But, what the hell. Always seemed like it was the crazy ones this kind of thing worked best for." He took a long drink from his own water.

Tetsu cocked his head at his new partner, not minding while Daiki stole his bottle for a drink of his own. "Does that mean you're crazy too, Kagami-kun?"

Kagami's mouth curled up at the corner as he leaned back on his elbows, watching their senpai out on the floor. "Yeah. Guess I might be."

"Thank you," Tetsu said softly, and Daiki watched with a certain glee as Kagami instantly got flustered, looking off to the side with his ears turning red.

Really, it was no wonder Tetsu handled Kagami so easily, if he responded like this every time Tetsu got all earnest.

"Not like it's a favor or something," Kagami grumbled. "You don't have to say thanks."

Tetsu smiled, tiny and obviously amused. "It's something you chose to do that makes me very happy. Shouldn't I thank you for that?"

Kagami turned redder, and Daiki laughed. "Give it up, Kagami. Tetsu always gets his way sooner or later; best to save time and just agree now."

Kagami glowered at him. "Aren't you supposed to be morally opposed to that kind of thinking?"

"Kagami-kun," Tetsu said quietly, hand pressing a little more firmly against Daiki's back, and Daiki had to agree with the pained look Kagami gave Tetsu.

"If you're going to make me be nice to him, we're going to have problems," Kagami pointed out.

"I wouldn't try to do that."

Daiki always knew Tetsu was smart.

"But I don't want to argue about that."

That silenced both of them, and Daiki shifted off Tetsu's legs, sitting up to drape against his back instead. Kagami half turned, one elbow still braced on the stage, and leaned against Tetsu's knees. Daiki could feel Tetsu's shoulders ease under their silent attempts at reassurance.

"So, hey." Kagami nudged Tetsu's leg. "You want to play too, tonight?"

"Hey," Daiki objected. Kagami was getting better, and Tetsu would be a decisive advantage for either of them, now.

Kagami rolled his eyes. "I didn't say 'pick sides'. You remember that one Saturday Kise showed up and we played one-on-one-on-one?"

"And you played so long Kantoku yelled at us all the next day." Tetsu looked down at him, smiling a little. "I couldn't play the way Kise-kun does."

"No, but that could be good," Daiki said, thoughtfully, resting his chin on Tetsu's shoulder. "For us to keep a look out for you, and try to keep the ball. For you to track the game and try to take it while we're distracted with each other." Even as he said it, he could hear the parallels with how they acted toward each other off the court, and Kagami looked satisfied.

"Yeah, like that."

Tetsu nodded slowly. "That does sound like fun." He wasn't smiling this time, but his whole expression lightened at the assurance that, even in matches like these, he had a part.

Daiki exchanged what he was pretty sure was a look of complete understanding with Kagami. Maybe he was still a little jealous, and maybe Kagami still thought he was a jerk, but they both wanted to please their partner, to have those fierce, fearless eyes look at them and approve. Kagami agreed on that, at least.

He supposed there could be worse people to be sharing Tetsu with.

Later, on the way home, Daiki leaned his head back against the vibrating window of the train and stared up at the ceiling, thinking.

Tetsu and Kagami had gone with him as far as the little park Daiki and Kagami had played each other in a week ago. And, at the turn-off toward the station, Tetsu had reached up to curve a hand around the back of Daiki's neck, and tugged him down and kissed him. He could almost feel it again, just thinking about it, the warm, firm pressure of Tetsu's mouth against his. It felt like the way he remembered being Tetsu's friend feltâ€”like support he could lean against, like a demand made quietly.

And then, of course, because Tetsu was Tetsu, he'd given Daiki a perfectly bland, purely evil look and pushed him toward Kagami.

Kagami had been caught just as flat-footed, at least, and they'd stared at each other for a long, frozen moment. Tetsu had just stood there looking calm and expectant. It had been Kagami who'd broken first, scrubbing his hands through his hair with an aggravated sound. "Oh god, fine, just..." The look on his face when he'd closed the distance between them made Daiki expect something like their last kiss, something hard, but when Kagami caught his shoulder and leaned in his mouth had been light, almost hesitant. The word that came to mind, now, staring up at the lights running along the roof of the train, was gentle.

Daiki didn't know whether to be charmed or outraged.

But he thought... he thought there might have been a time when he'd have kissed like that, too.

He didn't know quite yet whether this was the right way to get back to what he'd had, with Tetsu, with his game, with his friends. But as he listened to the hum and clack of wheels on the tracks, he thought he was glad he'd reached out to include Kagami in it.

Aftermath

Tetsuya walked beside Taiga, smiling quietly. On reflection, he was glad Daiki had done what he had. Knowing he and Taiga had been together had given Tetsuya a bad moment, wondering whether he would be excluded from that the way he was from their one-on-one matches. Apparently, though, it had just been Daiki's way of not making Tetsuya choose between them, and in the end Taiga had found a way to close the circle all the way and include Tetsuya in the matches too. It was the happy warmth of being with them like that that had made Tetsuya reach for Daiki when they parted, wanting to give the warmth back again.

It was that warmth that made him pause at the turn-off to Taiga's street and look up at him, head tilted invitingly. It was hard to tell, in the dark, but he thought Taiga was blushing a little, and he had to smile. He reached out to rest a hand against his partner's chest, feeling the quick rise of his breath. "Taiga."

Taiga made a quiet sound, reaching out to close his hands lightly on Tetsuya's shoulders. "I miss hearing people say my name, you know. Nobody does, here."

"No one would take that liberty unless they were very close friends," Tetsuya agreed, and took a step closer. "Intimate friends." Yes, Taiga was definitely blushing, he noted with amusement. When one of Taiga's hands slid up to cup his cheek lightly, he had to smile. "I'm not that breakable, you know."

"I know that," Taiga protested indignantly, though his hands didn't tighten. "It's just..." He huffed, looking aside for a moment. "This... it's something people should take care, when they do."

Tetsuya softened at that. He wouldn't have thought Taiga would be a romantic, but maybe it made sense. He was so pure-hearted; it was why Tetsuya had chosen him, after all. "It is," he agreed quietly, winding his arms comfortably around Taiga's waist. Taiga relaxed and looked at him again, smiling back a little. When Taiga leaned down to him and carefully, gently tipped Tetsuya's head back, Tetsuya let him, let himself rest against the warm support of Taiga's arm around him, let himself kiss back softly.

The wonder in Taiga's eyes, at the corners of his smile when they parted, made Tetsuya reach up, gentle in his turn, to brush back the wild mess of Taiga's hair. The softness in Taiga's voice when he said, "Tetsuya," made something catch in his chest. They stood wrapped up in each other for a long moment.

Finally, though, something occurred to Tetsuya and he cocked his head up at Taiga. "I doubt Daiki let you be careful."

Taiga growled. "He sure as hell didn't. And, okay fine, it's fun that way too, but it's not like this!" His arms tightened around Tetsuya.

"Do you think it should be?" Tetsuya liked that thought; he wanted to see Daiki looking at him, at them, the way Taiga just had.

"Of course it should be!" Taiga was getting indignant again. "Otherwise it's not special, it's just fuck-buddies."

Tetsuya blinked a bit at that, but a smile spread over his lips. "I'm glad he thought of this at all, though."

Taiga looked down at him, quiet for a moment. "He wants you to be happy."

Tetsuya reached up and pulled Taiga down to another soft kiss. "I am."

And he'd be sure to tell Daiki so, too.

End

A/N: In hanakotoba, camellias indicate love and longing. In particular, white camellia indicates waiting for a beloved while red indicates current love.

The Tang of Hibiscus

It's the end of the year, and Kise gets another shock from his captain, this one considerably more pleasant. Fluff, Romance, Porn, I-4

Kise Ryouta was feeling absolutely pathetic.

What else did you call a team captain who, instead of going directly to practice when classes ended, loitered around the doors waiting for one particular senpai so that they could walk to the school gates together, before the captain in question sprinted back to make practice on time? At the beginning, Ryouta had had excuses: a question about the mountain of DVDs Kasamatsu-senpai had left him to watch, a question about club policies, about how to handle this or that club member. It was all perfectly plausible; he was still a first-year, after all! Over the weeks of January and February, though, he'd gradually run out of excuses and just showed up, two or three times a week, and hoped that Kasamatsu-senpai wouldn't tell him to get lost.

Kasamatsu-senpai never had yet, and Ryouta was grateful for that. Grateful that the one person he'd had the most support, the most guidance, from was still there for him, at least a little. So he still waited, and still walked to the gates with Kasamatsu-senpai, and now they talked more about exams and college fees and whether the B-Corsairs would make it into the bj League play-offs this year.

Today Ryouta waited by one of the clumps of trees that edged the main walk, as unobtrusively as he could manage, and fell in quietly beside Kasamatsu-senpai when he finally emerged from the classroom building. "So," he said after a few steps. "Enrollment lists came out today, right? Did you find anyone to go look at Toukai's?"

Kasamatsu-senpai shuddered. "No. In fact, I turned my phone off all during class. I don't think I could stand to get that news and then have to pretend to pay attention to history review." He hunched one shoulder under the strap of his bag. "I'm going to go see for myself now."

"I'm sure you'll make it in," Ryouta said encouragingly, and ducked as Kasamatsu-senpai swatted at his head.

"As if you know anything about it, yet. Toukai is a top school; even these days they can afford to be choosy." They were nearly at the gates, and Kasamatsu-senpai straightened up and took a deep breath. "All right. Here I go."

"Good luck, senpai." Ryouta waved him out and watched for a little while before he had to sprint for practice to keep the coach from yelling at him. University, he thought as he dashed down the campus walks. It was March, and Kasamatsu-senpai was heading for university, was almost gone.

He pushed the faint panic of that thought aside and ran faster.

Ryouta worked hard, that practice, pushing himself harder than he had for a while. Their coach had kept an eye on him ever since Aida-san started throwing words like "overstrain" and "bone damage" around. Today, though, he needed this, needed to work until his muscles and nerves had the tension worn out of them.

Which meant he only jumped a little when someone spoke from behind him, as he was closing the outer door of the sports complex.

"Do you always stay this late?"

Ryouta spun around, startled. "Kasamatsu-senpai!" It took him a moment to realize he'd been asked a question and shrug sheepishly. "Not always."

Kasamatsu-senpai pushed away from the wall where he'd been leaning, with an unimpressed grunt. "Maybe I should have been keeping a little closer eye on you."

"You don't really have to," Kise mumbled, perfectly well aware this was a social denial, not a real one, and probably sounded like it; then he remembered and perked up. "Hey, did you get in?"

Kasamatsu-senpai grinned at that. "Yeah, I thought I'd come tell you instead of making you wait for tomorrow. I got in."

"That's fantastic, congratulations!" And Ryouta meant it, really he did, he just couldn't help the little twist inside at the thought that it was really real. Kasamatsu-senpai was leaving.

Kasamatsu-senpai cocked his head, looking up at Ryouta steadily. "That wasn't the only thing I figured I should tell you, now," he said, finally, and jerked his head down the walk. "Come on, before we get locked on campus."

Ryouta trailed along, curious. Surely there wasn't anything left to tell him about the club; his various excuses earlier in the year had covered everything he could imagine, sooner or later. They turned toward the little shopping district Ryouta passed through every day on the way to school, quiet and dark at this time of night, except for a restaurant here and there.

"So," he finally said, unsure what to do with all this quiet and searching for something to fill it with, "I guess you won't be my senpai for much longer."

Of course, there was never a guarantee that what he found would be any better than the quiet.

But Kasamatsu-senpai sounded genuinely amused when he snorted. "Just because I'm graduating before you?" He had his eyes fixed on the sidewalk in front of them. "Didn't stop me last time."

Ryouta blinked, trying to make sense of that a couple different ways before he gave up. "Um. It... didn't?"

"You entered the middle-school club your second year," Kasamatsu-senpai said quietly, almost musing to himself. "And it's not like I played every game. No reason for you to remember, and I don't think we ever even met." He heaved in a breath. "I was at Teikou too, though."

It wasn't until Kasamatsu-senpai looked back and turned around that Ryouta realized he'd stopped walking. "You..." He couldn't quite get past that first word.

"Mm." Kasamatsu-senpai shoved his hands into his pockets, watching Ryouta with dark eyes. "First string. So I met Akashi, his first year. That's... kind of why I didn't say anything."

"But..." Ryouta seemed to be stuck with single words today.

Kasamatsu-senpai sighed and came to grab Ryouta's arm. "Here. Get out of the middle of the sidewalk." He pulled Ryouta over to the concrete planters beside the sweets shop on the corner and pushed him down to sit on the edge. He thumped down beside Ryouta, looking down at his crossed arms. "I could see it, even then," he said, low. "Akashi... he was different. And he kept pushing the captain and coach for more reckless policies. Perfectly polite about it, but... you could see he didn't really think about the idea of losing. After the Cup this year, I'm pretty sure of itâ€”he didn't understand losing, or what it does to people, or how losing is part of the game itself. So he didn't care." He glanced up at Ryouta, mouth tilted ruefully. "In case you ever wondered just why I was so pissed off when you said that practice match with Seirin was the first time you ever lost."

"It... I... the first time I'd lost a game," Ryouta specified, dazed. "I lost all the time to Aominecchi." Kasamatsu-senpai's smile un-tilted, and he nudged Ryouta's shoulder with his.

"Yeah, when we played Touou I got that part." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, clasping his hands between them. "So. I didn't like what I saw of Akashi, and I didn't like what I heard after I graduated. When Kaijou recruited you, I wasn't sure what to expect. But I knew I wanted to show you something different. Something I didn't think you'd be able to associate with the name 'Teikou'."

"Something different...?" Ryouta echoed softly, still a little lost in the idea that he'd had a... a... a double-senpai at Kaijou.

Kasamatsu-senpai was quiet for a long moment. "It's not like Teikou wasn't always strict. It was. Screwing up bad enough always got you dropped down a rank. Competition to actually play was always fierce. But all that was so we could win. Not so we could win, if that makes sense." He glanced sidelong at Ryouta. "Even if I hadn't met you, you were still my kouhai. I wanted you to see what that was like."

Ryouta felt like he couldn't quite catch his breath. "I have," he said, husky. "I really have." Because, yes, what Kasamatsu-senpai said made perfect sense. And, no, Ryouta probably wouldn't have understood before this year, before his new team, his new captain. "Thank you," he finished, finally.

And then it hit him all over again, that he was about to lose this, and he pulled one knee up to his chest, leaning his chin against it so he could bite his tongue without being obvious about it. If he concentrated on that little pain he could push back the bigger one.

"Oh, not the puppy-dog eyes, come on," Kasamatsu-senpai groaned, and pummeled his shoulder. "I told you already, graduating ahead of you didn't stop me from looking after my kouhai last time, and it isn't going to stop me this time either!"

"But... you'll be gone." Ryouta's voice was unsteadier than he'd wanted it to be, and he looked away, embarrassed. He heard Kasamatsu-senpai heave a put-upon sigh.

"Idiot. Why do you think I waited to tell you this until I knew I was in at Toukai? The Physical Education program is based on the Shounan campus. I'll be right next door."

Ryouta stared down the empty street, not seeing it. That sounded... like Kasamatsu-senpai thought he might visit. That would be something, at least. "Okay."

Another sigh, softer this time, and Kasamatsu-senpai's hand settled on his hair, much more gently than usual. His voice was gentler, too, when he repeated, "Why do you think I waited to tell you? After you spent nearly three months trying to keep me from really leaving the club, I didn't want to say anything unless I was sure I wouldn't just be leaving the city right after."

Ryouta's face was hot, and he was inescapably aware that, yes, he really had been that pathetic.

"Hey." Kasamatsu-senpai's hand slid down to his nape and shook him a little. "Didn't say I minded."

Ryouta peeked at him sidelong, positive that he was completely red. "...really?"

Kasamatsu-senpai was watching him with a faint smile. "Come here." He tugged Ryouta down to him, and Ryouta's breath drew in quick and shaky as Kasamatsu-senpai kissed him. "Really."

Ryouta leaned against him, feeling how wide his own eyes were. "Senpai."

"Twice," Kasamatsu-senpai agreed, mouth quirking. "So relax a little, okay? I'm not leaving."

Ryouta swallowed, a little shocked by how relieved he felt to hear that. How much he'd wound himself up in Kasamatsu-senpai without admitting it to himself. He managed a tiny smile, still feeling the warmth of that brief kiss on his lips, and agreed softly, "Yes, senpai."

Kasamatsu-senpai's hand tightened on his nape for a moment, perfectly reassuring. "Good." And then he stood, pulling Ryouta with him. "So let's go get some food. I was too freaked out to eat before I went and looked at the admission lists."

On cue, Ryouta's stomach growled, and he laughed. "Yeah. Okay." He ducked his head and gave Kasamatsu-senpai his best winsome look as they started walking again. "Senpai pay for their kouhai, right?" It probably said something about them, that getting kicked for that settled his nerves.

"Of course they do, so quit looking at me like I'm one of your damn fanclub!"

It took a few moments for Ryouta to realize that Kasamatsu-senpai had actually agreed, and then he couldn't help the way his grin softened, how shy the sidelong look he gave his senpai was.

Or how red he turned when Kasamatsu-senpai told him, eyes gleaming, "And that look you should save for somewhere more private."

Ryouta floated through the next day in a bit of a daze, forgot all the answers on the History test, and started rumor galloping through his fanclub when someone spotted him doodling versions of the first characters of Kasamatsu-senpai's name and his own in the fanciest style he could manage.

Kasamatsu-senpai was rolling his eyes and trying to keep a smile under control when Ryouta met him after classes. "It's a good thing it is almost the end of the year, or you'd have the whole school in a panic." This said with the cheerfulness of a captain who would never have to deal with Ryouta's fanclub during practice again. "I could hear the shrieking two floors up."

Ryouta ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I'll have to figure out how to let Ryuu-chan down easy. She's the front-runner in the rumors."

"You're way too nice."

"I was trained to be!" Ryouta protested, remembering the constant murmurs from agency minders about Smile, now, Kise-kun, nice and bright. "It's just for show, and most of them know it too. You know I wouldn'tâ€”"

That was when the memory of something he hadn't thought about at all last night, or today, dropped on his head, feeling very much like a brick.

"Of course I know, don't be ridiculous," Kasamatsu-senpai was scoffing, but he paused when he glanced over at Ryouta. "Kise?"

"I should have said before, I just didn't think of it." Ryouta resisted the urge to chew on his lip, something else he'd been pretty strenuously trained out of and hadn't even felt the urge to do in years. "Aominecchi... we... it's..." He made a frustrated sound at his inability to find good words for what was between them.

Kasamatsu-senpai was wearing a tiny smile. "Aomine, hm? I like the fact that he didn't occur to you sooner, actually."

Ryouta was coming to the conclusion that Kasamatsu-senpai enjoyed making him blush. "It's just... well, after Aida-san and Momocchi set it up so we could get some matches in, it just... spills over sometimes."

"Since I'm not actually blind, and have in fact seen you two play," Kasamatsu-senpai said dryly, "that doesn't surprise me at all."

Ryouta took a deep breath. "It's just... today is one of the days Aominecchi is allowed to come here for a match after practice is officially over."

They stopped by the school gates, and Kasamatsu-senpai looked up at Ryouta thoughtfully. "So do you need me to warn him off, or do you need me to tell you it's all right?"

Ryouta gave him an indignant look. "I don't need anyone to warn anyone off, I can do that perfectly well myself!"

"So you want it to be all right," Kasamatsu-senpai said softly, watching him, ignoring the slowing stream of other students walking past just a meter or two away. One of the things that drew Ryouta to Kasamatsu-senpai was the way he could see past some of the faces Ryouta wore, some of the things he didn't say. But sometimes Ryouta wished he couldn't.

Ryouta bent his head, studying his toes. "I know it's a selfish thing to want," he said, low. "I know... what that's usually called. I just... when we play one-on-one, there's so much, and it's Aominecchi, he's the one who opened this whole world up for me, and he's coming back to us now, and..." He trailed off because Kasamatsu-senpai's hand was on his wrist, light and warm.

"He's important to you. I can understand that." Kasamatsu-senpai's hand tightened for a moment and let go. "All right. Play Aomine as much as you want. Even," a corner of his mouth curled up, "if it spills over."

Ryouta knew he was staring and couldn't help himself. "It's really all right?"

Kasamatsu-senpai's crooked smile became a smirk. "Aomine isn't the one you just spent three months trailing around after."

Kasamatsu-senpai definitely liked to make him blush.

"I'll make you a deal," he continued, lower. "Go ahead and play with Aomine tonight. Come home with me tomorrow."

There was not, Ryouta thought, enough air out here. At least, it didn't seem to be doing him any good at the moment, because he couldn't quite catch his breath. "Yes, senpai," he said, husky, feeling how wide his eyes had gone.

Kasamatsu-senpai smiled. "I've seen the two of you play," he repeated, "and you don't look at him like this, even then. It's fine, Kise." And then he hitched his bag up over his shoulder and strolled out the school gates, leaving Ryouta wondering how on earth he was supposed to keep his mind on practice, now.

"Come on in."

Ryouta stepped into the small, quiet house after Kasamatsu-senpai, toeing off his shoes and glancing around at the dimness. "Your parents aren't home yet either?"

"Tou-san works late a lot." Kasamatsu-senpai shot a small smile over his shoulder as he led the way up the stairs. "And this is Kaa-san's mahjong night with her friends."

Definite anticipation curled in Ryouta's stomach, shivery and warm, as he followed Kasamatsu-senpai up to his room. His own mother, of course, had understood immediately why he wanted to stay over at his senpai's house, and that it had nothing to do with watching match videos. She'd stood on tip-toe to kiss his forehead and told him to enjoy himself. Ryouta had smiled and nodded reassurance to the shadow of a question in those bright eyes so much like his. She'd relaxed, then, and said how good it was that he had a proper senpai to take care of him, and they'd giggled together while his father just shook his head indulgently over how flighty they could be.

Kasamatsu-senpai's room was very like he was himselfâ€”spare and compact and stuffed with basketball. There were rows of magazines and videos on the book case, several shoe boxes stacked neatly in the corner, and he dropped his bag in what was clearly its proper place, beside the desk next to a larger bag that had one end rounded around a basketball.

"Going to stand there all night?"

Ryouta started a little, realizing he was still in the doorway. Kasamatsu-senpai was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him. "I... no, of course not."

Kasamatsu-senpai held out a hand, looking rather amused. "Come here, then."

Unaccustomed nerves fluttered in Ryouta's stomach as he stepped slowly across the room. Kasamatsu-senpai's brows rose, but his smile softened. He caught Ryouta's wrists and tugged him down until he was kneeling between Kasamatsu-senpai's legs, and gathered him close. "Sure you've done this before?"

Ryouta leaned against him, enjoying the hand running up and down his back. Softly, not looking up, he said, "I have. It's just never been quite like this."

"Is that good?" Kasamatsu-senpai's hand slid up into his hair, and Ryouta let his head drop to rest on Kasamatsu-senpai's shoulder, hands linked behind his back.

"It is. I... hope it is." After a moment, putting his words together carefully, he went on. "You don't like how I have to be for work. I mean, it was kind of obvious. So I was mostly serious, for you, unless I just forgot. Or unless I was trying to wind you up," he admitted, and laughed at his senpai's growl. The fingers cradling his head stayed gentle, though, and he relaxed under them. "This isn't just being serious, though." Serious was pretty easy, actually, especially in the middle of a game. Being not-serious and also not-joking made him a little nervous, uncertain how he should be acting. It felt good, though, being held like this.

Kasamatsu-senpai's breath gusted against Ryouta's neck as he sighed. Instead of the briskness Ryouta was used to from his captain, though, his voice was quiet when he said, "It's okay. I'm your senpai, right? That means I'll take care of you. So quit worrying so much."

Ryouta shivered a little at that assurance, at the reminder of how clearly Kasamatsu-senpai saw him and understood him. "Even like this?" he asked, a bit hesitant. It wasn't like he had much basis for comparison, never having had many senpai except in the technical sense, but this seemed a little above and beyond the usual call.

A huff of laughter was warm against his neck. "Like this is special. But I'll still take care of you."

Ryouta was laughing a little himself, with nerves and happiness. "Okay." He lifted his head and leaned in, parting his lips willingly when Kasamatsu-senpai caught his mouth. The warm slide of a tongue over his made things easier, easier to just feel instead of worrying. The question of how to act would answer itself, like it always did, as a reflection of the world around him.

...he just hadn't expected it to answer itself quite this way. With each kiss, with each button Kasamatsu-senpai undid, with each slide of fingers over skin, Kasamatsu-senpai's touch turned gentler. Instead of holding Ryouta harder, he held him more carefully. By the time he'd gotten rid of the last of their clothes and tugged Ryouta up onto the bed and settled over him, he was cradling Ryouta's face in his hands, kissing him slow and coaxing.

And Ryouta felt himself answering the only way that felt right, by relaxing more for every gentled touch until he was lying under Kasamatsu-senpai flushed and open and shaking a little with it. He didn't do this, didn't let his games and smiles and teasing all fall away. Never before, at least. It had never felt so right to do it, but now Kasamatsu-senpai's careful touch was brushing those things away and Ryouta was letting it happen. "Senpai," he whispered against Kasamatsu-senpai's mouth, husky.

Kasamatsu-senpai raised his head and looked down at him with a little smile. "Under the circumstances, I think you can use my given name if you want."

Ryouta swallowed, looking aside from those clear, dark eyes, shy in face of their steadiness. He felt exposed and sheltered at the same time, and the combination made him dizzy. "Yukio-san," he said softly.

Kasamatsu-senpai turned Ryouta's face back to him and kissed him, soft and easy. "Ryouta."

The intimacy of his name, spoken like that, made Ryouta's breath catch hard. "Senpai," he gasped, a little pleading, and Yukio-san gathered him up tight.

"Shh, it's okay." A hand settled, warm, on the back of his neck, rubbing slowly. "It's okay. We'll go slow."

Ryouta turned his head into Yukio-san's shoulder, face a little hot. What he'd said earlier was turning out to be truer than he'd known. He never had done it like this before. Not with someone who saw him.

Not with someone he let see him, opened himself up for and offered himself to.

The irreverent corner of his mind observed that it was a good thing Yukio-san was prepared to treat him like a virgin. He seemed to be one after all, in a way he hadn't even known. Somehow, the thought made it easier; easier to understand why he felt so shaky. He took a slow breath and looked up at his senpai. "Thank you, Yukio-san."

Yukio-san brushed his thumb over Ryouta's lips, looking down at him seriously. "I told you I'd take care of you."

Ryouta closed his eyes for a moment at the rush of warmth that sent through him, and turned his head to kiss Yukio-san's palm. Against it, he murmured. "Thank you, senpai."

Yukio-san's weight over him was comforting, and when he caught Ryouta's chin and kissed him again, Ryouta let himself relax into the rising heat without resistance. Kiss after kiss, as Yukio-san's hands stroked down his body, over his ribs, cupping his ass, Ryouta let himself answer openly, let his arms wind tight around Yukio-san to anchor himself against the way those gentle, steady hands on him made him shake. "Yukio-san," he gasped at last, husky. "Please..." He felt Yukio-san's mouth curve against his.

"Yeah. Now is good, I think." Yukio-san's weight eased off him and he nudged Ryouta's hip. "Here."

Ryouta let Yukio-san turn him over, heat and want curling together as he stretched out on his stomach and Yukio-san leaned over him to rummage in the small, square set of drawers beside the bed, where the alarm stood. The feel of slick, cool fingers pushing into him made him moan against the sheets. It was the slide of Yukio-san's mouth against his nape that made him shudder with a rush of hot response, though. "Please..."

"Shhh." Yukio-san's lips brushed his skin. "I've got you, Ryouta. Easy."

That care, that support, the quiet, serious warmth of Yukio-san's voice, pulled a whimper out of him. The words worked his heart open the way Yukio-san's fingers opened his body, and it felt so good, so very good. When Yukio-san finally pulled him up onto his knees, Ryouta was panting and hard and more than ready. He would have pushed back into the slow stretch of Yukio-san's cock pressing in, would have taken him in faster, if Yukio-san hadn't held him firmly. "Yukio-san!"

There was a flash of Yukio-san's usual temper in his voice, softened by amusement. "I'm not letting you hurt yourself, and damn you're tight, Ryouta. Do what your senpai says, already!"

Ryouta laughed, breathless and unsteady with the slide and stretch of Yukio-san pushing in. "Yes, senpai." But he still wriggled in Yukio-san's grip and moaned openly when he sank all the way home. Softly he pleaded, "I can take it harder than that, please, senpai..."

Yukio-san snorted, and his voice was getting husky too. "Pushy aren't you? All right, then."

When he pulled back and thrust into Ryouta hard and deep, heat poured down Ryouta's spine like lava and he couldn't be embarrassed by the sound he made. His hands closed into fists on the sheets as Yukio-san fucked him breathlessly hard, holding him steady for every stroke. It was so good to let himself fall down into the pure sensation, and his whole body flexed wantonly in Yukio-san's hands, eager for this, for more. Good as that was, though, it was the sound of Yukio-san's voice that wrapped heat around him until he was a little crazy with it. That voice, softened for him, whispering things like Easy, I've got you and I'll take care of it all, just let me and Let go, Ryouta, it's okay.

It was that last one that undid him.

He moaned out loud as pleasure burst through him, shaking him senseless with the thought that he was safe, it was all right to let himself go, to feel this as much as he wanted. The hoarse gasp above him assured him that Yukio-san was with him, felt this as much as he did, but those hands were still holding him steady. Not letting go. When the heat finally faded a little and Yukio-san let him down to the bed again, he kept on holding Ryouta close and steady, and Ryouta turned and clung to him shamelessly.

"Shh." Yukio-san's hand spread against his back, warm and sure. "It's still okay."

Ryouta nodded wordlessly where his head was buried in Yukio-san's shoulder. He hadn't felt like this even when it really was the first time he'd had sex. He'd never felt like this before. Never let anyone open him up like this. "You're really staying," he said, low, just to say it out loud and reassure himself.

"Yeah, I am." There was maybe a smile in Yukio-san's voice when he said, "So are you, after all." His hand slid over the arms Ryouta had locked around him. Ryouta looked up at him, still flushed and shaky, more open than he remembered being in years.

"Yes, Yukio-san."

Because Yukio-san brushed aside all the charm Ryouta met the world with and still wanted him, saw Ryouta's selfishness and wanting and still sheltered him, because of these things Ryouta would stay here in Yukio-san's hands. The gentleness of those hands when Yukio-san tipped up Ryouta's chin and kissed him said that this was where Ryouta belonged.

More than anywhere else, right here.

End

A/N: When Aomine calls Kasamatsu "senpai" during the Kaijou v Touou game, it's pretty clear that's just Aomine offering a typically sarcastic token of respect for Kasamatsu's guts in setting Aomine up for a foul. But I couldn't help thinking, what if it had meant something more, what if Kasamatsu had been at Teikou and seen the beginning of all that craziness? I couldn't resist using the idea.

In hanakotoba, hibiscus indicate gentleness or delicacy.

The Simple and the Subtle - Chapter Two

Gil does his best to make restitution and finds himself being drawn out by Al. Drama, I-3

Gil had not been surprised when Alphonse mentioned nightmares. The boy had died, been hauled back by his heels and bound to a suit of armor, tramped all over the country running after the false hope of the Stone, been transmuted into the Stone, and finally sacrificed those years of love and effort to be returned to true life. Nightmares were surely to be expected. He hadn't quite expected his new houseguest to start up in the middle of the night, screaming, though.

He certainly hadn't expected it to happen every night.

That wasn't quite true, of course. Two nights, even three, in a week, Alphonse slept quietly. The others, well Gil was twice over glad he had no near neighbors here at the edge of the city and that doors and windows were shuttered tight now winter was on them.

He did wonder, once or twice, whether his teacher had known about this, and thought it proper for Gil to deal with.

Either way, it was fair enough resititution for the part he'd played. He leaned up on one arm, half awake, to reach across the space between their makeshift beds and shake Alphonse's shoulder as he started to thrash around. Alphonse came awake with a harsh gasp, eyes wide and staring before he fell back against his blankets.

"Ah. Gil-san. Sorry."

"Mm, don't worry," Gil mumbled, settling back into sleep already.

He barely remembered it in the morning, until Alphonse looked up from staring into his tea. "It really seems like there should be two circles on the Gate, not eleven."

It must, Gil decided, have been a dream of the Gate itself, last night, then, for Alphonse to break into philosophy at the breakfast table. Usually he waited and beleaguered the older men at the temple, in the evening.

Still, he probably owed Alphonse this help too. "Why?" he prodded.

"Well it's only one step away from this world; there don't seem to be any others in between."

Gil considered that while Alphonse wolfed down his toast. "I don't think distance to divinity works in a straight line like that."

"Oh." Alphonse blinked and laughed a bit self-consciously. "Of course." He rubbed a hand through his hair. "I suppose I've been drawing arrays for too long; it's hard to shake the habit of geometry."

"Most habits are hard to shake," Gil agreed quietly. The habit of revenge; the habit of wrongheadedness; the habit of solitude; they were all hard to shake.

Though Alphonse was making an impression on that last one, and Gil suspected that had been his teacher's real purpose in lodging Alphonse here.

"Well, I can think about that more later," Alphonse said with that alarming determination of his, draining his tea. "What is there to do today?"

"Walls. There's a new load of stone in."

Alphonse brightened, and Gil raised a brow at this rather odd response to the prospect of hauling stone blocks in the desert sun and stingingly dry winter air. "Good! I think the house frame is cracking in the east corner, I heard it last night, and I knew you wouldn't want me to strengthen it."

"Thank you," Gil muttered, surprised all over again by Alphonse's restraint; he hadn't used a single flicker of alchemy since he'd come to New Ishvar. Of course, Gil probably shouldn't be surprised. Alphonse had never had his brother's brash edge.

Or, at least, didn't have it in the same way.

As they walked through the outskirts to collect the first pallet of cut stone, Gil watched smiles come out everywhere in answer to Alphonse's.

"Al-kun, you'll come play with Rick and Leo later won't you?"

"Alphonse-kun, I'll have that book for you tonight!"

"Al, you and Gil will stop with us for dinner, won't you?"

"If Gil-san agrees," Alphonse returned, laughing. Gil snorted softly.

"You can go without me."

"Yes, but Eli-san invited both of us," Alphonse told him, firm and scolding. "You should accept more often, Gil-san."

Gil's mouth tightened. "I have no right."

Alphonse stopped in the middle of the street-to-be with his hands on his hips and glared. "Why not?"

Gil glowered down at his houseguest, though it never seemed to have quite the effect on Alphonse that it did on anyone else. "The price for what I have done is exile. I knew that from the start. I will pay it," he bit out.

"Even when no one is asking you to?"

"Some things aren't required by other people."

"No, they're just required by your stubbornness," Alphonse snapped, sounding thoroughly exasperated. "Gil-san--"

"Enough."

After a moment Alphonse sighed. "We should fetch the stone."

Gil nodded agreement to that, at least, and ignored Al's muttering about how well the blocks would match certain heads. He was starting to wonder whether Alphonse had gotten this way because of Edward or whether Edward had gotten that way because of Alphonse.

It was two loads later before Alphonse said anything that wasn't to do with hauling and stacking.

"Gil-san, may I ask you something?"

Gil made a noncommital grunt, hoping Alphonse wasn't going to badger him more about dinner invitations.

"Will you tell me how I met you?" Alphonse looked up as Gil's hands froze over the mortar he was mixing. "You know so much about me, but I don't even remember your name from the things people have told me about those years."

Gil could feel his jaw tightening.

"How did we meet, that you don't want to tell me?" Al asked quietly.

Gil bowed his head over his hands. Alphonse had left off asking for so long, he'd hoped to not be asked at all. He should have known better. Sooner or later, it would have to be said. Gil took a slow breath. "You didn't know my name, then," he said, voice low. "You called me Scar."

The broken beam Alphonse had been using to lever the stones up clattered to the ground. His eyes were wide, when Gil looked up. A flicker of dark amusement tugged the corner of Gil's mouth up. "I suppose that transmutation gave both of us our lives back. I don't know that it did either of us a favor." He looked away, not wanting to watch the shock in Alphonse's face any more. "You've done more than enough work here, Alphonse," he gestured at the half-laid walls, mouth twisting with the double edge of his words, "if you want to go think for a while."

"I... I'll... yes, for a while." Alphonse tidied his tools with a blank stare that didn't see them, and walked away toward the temple, steps slow and halting.

Gil rested his forehead against a stone, eyes closed. He'd thought he already knew where he stood with the world. He hadn't thought it would hurt so much to see that shock in someone's eyes--to know it would unfold into fear or disgust.

It was only, he told himself sternly, what he should expect; it flowed naturally from his own actions and choices.

When he had made those choices, it hadn't seemed like such a high price as it did now.

It didn't take long before Amos showed up.

Gil's shoulders tightened, but his teacher only picked up the lever Al had dropped and helped to lay the last row of stone. It wasn't until Gil had poured them both a drink of water that Amos spoke.

"Well, it doesn't seem that you think Al-kun's life is unclean."

Gil flinched. "Of course it isn't," he muttered. "He isn't one of us, to live by our laws. Besides, his brother chose freely to make that sacrifice for him." Unlike the men Gil had killed to form the Stone. Not that he felt sorry for those soldiers, he thought stubbornly; they'd made their choices too. But the fact remained. "Alphonse wasn't the one who killed and used the lives to live."

Amos took a drink and leaned back against Gil's new wall thoughtfully. "No, he didn't. Instead he took those lives and used them to bring his brother back from death." He tipped his head at Gil. "You still don't think that was wrong?"

"It..." Gil's thoughts stumbled. "The killing was already done," he said at last.

His teacher's silence was eloquent of the inadequacy of this answer.

"At least those lives and deaths meant something in the end!" Gil finally burst out. "At least they did something worthwhile!"

Amos smiled at him. "So they did."

Gil's eyes widened. "But I'm... I'm not..." Not worthwhile, not worthy.

His teacher patted his shoulder, heaving himself to his feet. "Well, perhaps I'll give young Al a bit longer to work on it, then."

As Gil watched Amos walk back into the city he thought about the enthusiasm with which Alphonse threw himself into rebuilding Ishvar and the raw determination of his search for answers among the books of old and new learning and the stubbornness he already showed in trying to draw Gil out. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that his teacher had a ruthless streak.

It was late when Alphonse came back, and Gil watched his face warily, in the lamplight.

Al just smiled and set two loaves of bread and a travel-bruised pomegranate on the table. "We're running out of bread so I stopped at Sarah-san's. She said to take the fruit, too."

"That was kind of her." Gil fetched cups of water for them, waiting for the rest of it. He was sure there was more.

"Gil-san," Alphonse said, softly, as he peeled the pomegranate, "will you tell me what happened?" He looked up, honey-colored eyes dark. "No one else was there."

And so no one else could tell it. No one else could explain the dreams, if Alphonse had dreamed about it. Gil set down his bread; he doubted he'd be able to eat through this. "I had planned to lure soldiers into Lior and create the Stone with their lives. For the sake of all the citizens who had been killed, the people of Lior were willing to let me do it. You and your brother stumbled into the middle of it, though. You and one other. The Alchemist who did this," he gestured to the scar across his face, "and you were too close. When he tried to kill you, by transforming you and breaking your blood seal... I made you the focus of the Stone's creation instead, to preserve you."

He watched Alphonse's fingers, breaking the pomegranate seeds into smaller and smaller clusters, as he spoke. He didn't want to watch Al's face, and perhaps that was more cowardice, but he didn't think he could finish if he was looking Alphonse in the eye. Alphonse's eyes were far too expressive.

"After it was done," he finished, "I was left with a whole body and the empty desert and nothing else. I..." his hands clasped hard around his cup, "I had thought to make the Stone for revenge; to carry out a destiny. But it seemed to me, then, that whatever there was of my old destiny had passed to you." He was silent for a moment before adding, voice low, "It was then that I realized how heavy I had made it. I'm sorry."

"Yes. So am I. But I'm glad, too."

Gil finally looked up from Alphonse's fingers, stained a little red with the seeds' juice, to see his housemate looking reflective and not shocked or disgusted at all.

"I wish those soldiers hadn't died," Alphonse said, softly. "But you saved my life. And what you did saved my brother's life, too. And I can't help being glad for that." Alphonse looked directly at Gil and smiled, eyes clear. "I wish you hadn't. Thank you, Gil-san."

Gil felt himself settle into stillness with those words. It was not forgiveness Alphonse offered. It was more real than that. "So do I," he said, quietly. "And you're welcome." His own sincerity surprised him.

Alphonse pushed a wooden plate with half the pomegranate seeds on it across the table. "I suppose I should tell you what came next. I only really know it from what other people have said, but I know Nii-san and I ran for it."

Gil listened and ate the sweet, crunchy seeds one by one. It was late by the time Al finished, and Gil felt tired--more than tired, wrung out.

He also felt more at peace than he had for a long time.

He turned over new thoughts, as they cleaned up. "You and your brother succeeded in your search, last time," he said, finally. "But the cost was one I think you wouldn't pay again."

Alphonse nodded firmly as he swept away the fresh stone chips in the bedroom and unrolled his bed. "The Stone isn't the right way. I know that, at least."

"Knowledge might be, though," Gil offered, knowing that he would once have denounced any outsider seeking the old knowledge of his people. "You are... welcome here for as long as you search." He started to unroll his own bedding and hesitated. He'd long since moved his bed across the room, next to Alphonse's, the easier to wake him from nightmares.

Alphonse smiled up at him, smoothing his bedroll, and it struck Gil that that was what he had wanted, why he had spoken: to see Alphonse's hope, undamaged. That hope seemed... very important. "Thank you for that, too, Gil-san." Alphonse helped unroll Gil's bedding the rest of the way and patted it briskly into place beside his.

Gil lay down silently, accepting Alphonse's wordless assurance that it was well.

He was surprised to wake the next morning from a sleep unbroken by nightmares. He had expected telling over some of the ugliest parts of Alphonse's lost past to call to those memories.

Then again, perhaps it had. Alphonse slept quietly, but his arms were wrapped tightly around one of Gil's and he refused to let go. After a few gentle tugs, Gil gave in and turned on his side to settle Alphonse against him more comfortably until the boy woke. His mouth tugged up helplessly into a faint smile as Alphonse relaxed with a sigh and moved closer.

Gil lay and watched the light grow slowly outside the window, thinking back to another life when his older brother had read him to sleep on stormy nights and stayed with him, safe and warm.

He was smiling for real by the time Al woke and stared at him with wonder in the morning sun.

A/N: Those who are wondering how on earth Scar can be here should read Long Enough.

The Simple and the Subtle - Chapter Three

Al settles into closer company with Gil and, as the year draws on, finds the key he needs—if he can use it. Drama, I-3

Al mentioned Gil-san's thought, about divine geometry being very different than regular geometry, to Amos-san. Amos-san chuckled.

"Oh yes. Gil has a good instinct for these things. It's a loss to us all that he probably won't ever go on in his studies and join us here." His wave took in the whole temple, not just the corner of the porch that he and Al sat in.

"Mm." Al sighed a little. He thought it was a waste, too. They both had new lives; Gil-san should do something with his.

Nahal-san told him, while they screwed together pipes to plumb her sink, that Gil-san never stayed in the houses he built.

"Whenever he finishes one he gives it to some couple or family and moves out again, like he's chasing the edge of the city," she said, grunting as she tightened down an elbow. "Here, hand me that long bit. It's a crying shame. No one blames the boy for being a little off his head after what happened at the old city." She sighed, gazing down at the pipes scattered in the summer dust around them and, if Al was any judge, not seeing them at all. "I suppose that won't be any good until he stops blaming himself."

Al hoped it would happen; he thought it would. Gil-san had been kind of scary, or at least it sounded like he had in all the accounts, but he'd also saved Al's life and he'd been kind here and now.

Al was sleeping a lot better, now.

Al scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. "Why is the same thing drawn different ways?" he muttered to himself. Even after almost a year studying, he still found many of these things peculiar.

"So that we remember to look at the truth from more than one perspective," Alec-san said briskly from behind him.

Al jumped a bit. "Ah. Well, yes, I suppose so..."

Alec-san waved a hand. "You must remember, Alphonse-kun, all these drawings and descriptions are only metaphors. We can only see as much of the greater truth as our souls are prepared to see. If we could see it as it is..." his wintry smile flashed, "well, then we'd be one with divinity, yes?"

Al thought about that. "So, you're saying that everything I've seen is... not really real?"

Alec-san snorted. "Of course it's really real. It just isn't complete."

Al frowned, puzzling through this new thought. "So it's more like a... a parable."

"Exactly." Alec-san looked pleased.

"So why do different people see the same thing?" Al shot back.

Alec-san's smile grew. "Because, Alphonse-kun, you aren't the only one involved. What you see is telling the story along with you."

Al shivered. The idea that the Gate was talking to him unnerved him. He might only be able to remember dreams of memories, and almost nothing of the Gate itself, but he remembered fear.

Fear.

He frowned down at the sheaf of papers in front of him, the delicately colored and carefully labeled concentric circles and the dissertation below on their interrelations. "All these accounts and explanations... they all talk about joy," he murmured.

"Of course." Alec-san blew on a carefully copied page to dry it and pulled up a fresh sheet of paper, turning to the next page. "They speak of the pathways to completion, to perfection, if you will."

Al frowned some more, tapping his pencil against his chin. If that was so, then why was it only fear that he remembered?

"Not everyone studies that branch," Gil-san pointed out around a mouthful of nails as he attached the back to a new chair and Al cut up a handful of tiny potatos for dinner. "Even of those, not many seem to see this Gate. Perhaps you have to be prepared properly for it."

Al made a rueful face. "I guess we were about as unprepared as two people could get."

"It was irresponsible to allow children access to such learning," Gil-san growled.

Al's mouth quirked. "So you mean Amos-san and Alec-san are being irresponsible now?" he teased. Gil-san glowered at him, but Al was learning that he did that regardless, and it didn't always mean Gil-san was angry.

"You are not a child, Alphonse."

Al's brows rose at that and Gil-san looked back down at the chair.

"Whether you remember them or not, those years left a mark on you," he said, quietly. "You were a child when I first met you. You are not, now."

Al scraped the potatos into their pan and watched them start to sizzle. "I suppose not," he murmured. It was, in a way, a sad thought. But he also found himself sneakingly pleased that Gil-san thought so.

Al went to sleep thinking of joy and memory and his dreams started out more softly than usual. He was running through grass with his brother and Winry. He was arguing with his brother over cheating at cards. He was playing marbles with a little girl and if, in the dream, his hands were metal, she still smiled at him and crowed with happy triumph over her small, glassy winnings.

Joy.

Wholeness.

A part of him thought the words and then he was standing in a galleried ballroom, filled with light and fire, and a feeling of perfect calm. His brother's body was at his feet and he knew that Nii-san was dead. That didn't change the calm. The part of him that knew this was a dream clung to that perfectly balanced heart with wonder, burying himself in it.

The Eye flashed before him and doors opened. There was darkness beyond it, and light, and things Al couldn't name. He stepped past the doors and held out his hands.

"Nii-san!"

His voice echoed and re-echoed and tiny, dark hands unreeled, reaching back in answer.

Knowing it was a dream, Al still flinched, afraid.

Within the dream, Al brushed the hands away, calm, and they recoiled.

His brother's hands clasped his and Al felt himself unravelling, the power of his body spooling away and leaving only...

Him.

And he started, slowly, to walk beyond the Gate, beyond the hands and mocking, angry voices, towards the things without name.

"Haaah!"

Al's eyes were wide open on darkness and there was a warm arm around him.

"Alphonse!"

Al dropped back down to his bedroll as if all the strings of his muscles had been cut at once. "I... I'm okay." He was shaking.

Gil-san didn't comment, only rubbed Al's back quietly while he caught his breath. Al pressed his forehead against Gil-san's chest, grateful beyond words for the solidity of him.

"I remember," he whispered. "Something in the Gate. Something to be afraid of. But I wasn't afraid. And past that..." he frowned, puzzled. "I don't know what it was."

Gil-san's voice rumbled in his chest. "Beyond the Gate is the Crown, isn't it?"

Al stilled. "Oh." He could almost hear the click of thoughts coming together. "The Gate before the Crown," he whispered, eye wide for a different reason this time. "Peace. Joy. That... that balance. That's the Crown. What's at the Gate..." He sat up, catching Gil-san's shoulders in his excitement. "What's always in the Gate, what stays in the Gate, that must be separate! Of course!"

Gil-san eyed him thoughtfully. "As souls pass the Gate," he murmured, "perhaps some things must be left behind before we can go on."

"Everything that isn't ready for that oneness, yes, of course!" Al nearly bounced. "It makes sense now!" He paused. "What?"

Gil-san's eyes were gleaming in the dimness and a corner of his mouth twitched. "Did you wake up your brother, often, to discuss philosophy in the middle of the night?" he asked.

Al cleared his throat, flushing. "Ah. Sorry." He settled himself back down on his bedroll. After a moment he muttered, "Actually, yes."

Gil-san hmph-ed and a large hand ruffled Al's hair a little before withdrawing. "I'm not surprised."

Al smiled shyly and snuck a little closer into Gil-san's warmth before closing his eyes again.

"Hm. Interesting." Alec-san scratched his chin with the end of his pen, looking up at the ceiling. "I can only speculate, you understand, not having experienced these things myself."

Al made an encouraging sound, impatient, for once, with Alec-san's pedantic precision. He got one of Alec-san's small, frosty smiles for his pains.

"I would speculate, based on what you have told me, that these creatures in the Gate are indeed the remnants of souls that have passed through and beyond. Echos, if you will. Being without form or soul, being only scraps of will, of course they would be hungry for both body and spirit, if they find one they can reach. Living, presumably, rather than dead and passing beyond."

"Then," Al said slowly, "they don't really have anything to do with the transmutation process at all. Or with passing the Gate to other worlds."

"Never having witnessed it, I can't say. But the hypothesis does match your experiences." Alec folded his hands and regarded Al sharply over his knuckles. "The price you pay for transmutation, in strength or life, is one thing. But if these things truly are the will that returns in a homunculus, and if the homunculi are incapable of alchemy, then it follows that the bargain these creatures made with your brother to release your soul once they had captured you was their own and apart from alchemy as it is known to our world. They were likely," Alec-san conluded, "merely taking what they could get from children strong enough to open the Gate but not to guard themselves properly from what lies within it."

Al closed his eyes and took a slow breath for calm agains his sudden anger. "It does make sense," he said, low and even.

After a long moment Alec-san added, "As the Crown is perfect oneness, it also makes sense that the Gate is the point at which all worlds touch and join. How a living, embodied soul that does not seek the Crown can pass the Gate and move between with impunity, without falling prey to these creatures is a question we have not yet answered." His eyes sharpened still more. "Will you keep looking for it?"

Al's chin came up. "Of course."

Alec-san's smile was amused and, briefly, affectionate, and Al ducked his head, abashed.

"Well. After all, my dream might have given me a clue."

Alec-san raised his brows and made interested noises.

"In my dream," Al said, softly, looking up at the sunlight streaming in the skylight, "I wasn't afraid."

The Simple and the Subtle - Chapter Four

Gil assists Al and has a bit of an epiphany, and finds some peace with his past. Drama, I-3

Gil wasn't entirely surprised when Al came to him and asked for help. That didn't mean he didn't have misgivings.

"Are you sure Shifu wouldn't be a better choice?"

Alphonse looked stubborn. "I need to not be afraid. If I'm afraid of the Gate, I'll just keep running away from it and forgetting and I'll never be able to find Nii-san through it." The stubbornness shifted into the earnest entreaty Gil was far more wary of. He had fewer defenses against it. "Please, Gil-san. I do think it should be you."

Gil stifled a sigh. He wasn't at all sure he was ready for the burden of that trust, but if it was laid on him already he couldn't bring himself to break it. "Very well."

And so he found himself sitting beside Alphonse's bedroll in the middle of the day, one of Al's hands clasped in his, while his young friend sought, by all accounts, creatures that would happily devour his body and soul.

He hoped this would be enough to give Alphonse the courage he needed.

Gradually Alphonse's breathing slowed and evened. His eyes stopped flickering under his lids. Gil watched the sunlight creep across the floor and waited, sinking himself in the patience he had once employed to hunt and kill. He thought this was a better use for it.

Abruptly, Al's hand tightened on his. Gil leaned forward, intent, frowning, carefully tightening his grip in return. Alphonse's eyes were moving again, now. When his breath stumbled Gil couldn't keep from resting a light hand on his hair and speaking in a bare whisper. "Alphonse. I'm here."

Al should know that, whatever he faced, he was not alone. Gil knew too well how that felt to leave someone he knew lost in it.

Alphonse's grip on Gil's hand firmed and he drew in a long breath.

It wasn't long after that he relaxed, bit by bit, and his eyes opened, dark and dazed. Gil brushed light, flyaway hair back out of them and waited.

Finally Alphonse looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you." The smile grew wider, gained a triumphant edge. "It worked! I found it and I remember!"

Gil smiled back. "I'm glad."

Al hauled himself up off the bed, wobbling just a little, and rummaged for his notebooks, muttering to himself as he scribbled and chewing the end of his pencil. Gil stood and went to see about some dinner. He was hungry and he'd only watched.

As he pulled out bread and onion to cut, he found that he was still smiling.

Gil couldn't deny that he was very impressed by Alphonse Elric. Days turned to weeks and still Alphonse burned with the light of his discoveries, focused and intent. Gil often had to remind his housemate to take a break to eat.

And even in the midst of his ferocious research, Alphonse turned a hand willingly to the neverending chores of building New Ishvar. He sawed wood and laid pipes, helped paint and mortar, heaved blocks cheerfully. The house they stayed in was finished, and Gil wondered if he shouldn't move on as usual. But somehow he didn't want to disturb Alphonse, didn't want to dislocate him when he seemed so close to finding what he needed.

Didn't want to leave him behind either.

So he stayed and soothed his vague discomfort over it by going out to work on newly laid foundations each day. Many days Al came with him, and if Alphonse banged his thumb every now and then when he was thinking too much about his latest reading and not enough about where the nail was, most of the citypeople were indulgent. By now everyone knew of the outsider who had thrown himself so whole-heartedly into their studies that even Alec approved of him. If Alphonse still gathered a few dark looks in the evenings, when he joined the everlasting debates on the temple steps, there were only a few.

If Alphonse still woke, some nights, shaking and tense, Gil found some satisfaction in the knowledge that Al could sleep calm the rest of the night as long as Gil held him.

His hands could do something besides destroy, now.

His teacher found him stitching canvas into window covers against the deepening cold of winter nights.

"It seems you've decided to stay in one of your houses, finally."

"It's Alphonse's house, too," Gil answered, eyes on the canvas.

"So it is. Many of our people approve of that young man." This was said in such a bland tone that Gil looked up, wary. Amos was smiling at him. "Many of our people approve of you, too, you know."

Gil looked down again. "I shouldn't... I don't have the right..." It was harder, lately, to say the words with conviction.

Amos sighed. "Do you think the proper restitution for bringing death is to create still more absence in all our hearts?"

Gil bit his lip.

Amos reached over and gripped Gil's shoulder with a hard hand, shaking him a bit. "Stop being so stubborn, boy."

Gil managed a small smile for his teacher. "If you wanted me to become less stubborn, are you sure you should have housed Alphonse Elric here?"

Amos laughed. "He's just stubborn enough to match you." He leaned back in his chair and added, "Many of us would be pleased enough if he chose to do so for longer."

Gil shook his head, trying to ignore the twinge at the thought of Alphonse leaving. "He won't stop searching for his brother, wherever that takes him."

"Mm. Journeys usually end in returning, you know." Amos' eyes on him were dark and thoughtful. "If they last long enough. Maybe the both of you have further to go."

Gil sat, after his teacher left, hands smoothing the canvas. The memories of his last journey were dark ones, and he knew many of Alphonse's were also. He had to wonder, just a little, if the return was worth that kind of price.

Gil woke a little as Alphonse turned restless, reaching out to rub his back. Al's tossing increased, though, and the sounds he made were desperate and stifled, and Gil roused all the way.

"Alphonse." He gathered Al close, calling his name quietly. "Alphonse. Wake up."

Al woke with a start that was half a scream, sitting up with a jerk. "Seal... close..." he panted, eyes wide and blind.

"Alphonse," Gil called again, quiet and insistent.

Al's eyes finally focused on him. Gil started a bit himself as Al flung himself back down, burrowing into Gil's chest, shaking. "I was changing," he choked. "It was almost at the seal. I was almost gone."

Gil remembered the steady creep of corruption over steel armor, moving toward a small seal drawn in old blood. That certainly explained it. Gil rubbed Al's back silently.

"And then... I changed again," Al went on, muffled. "I was back, I was all right. There was just this... light inside me." After a slow, shaky breath, he looked up. "You saved me."

Gil made an uncomfortable sound. "It was the only thing I could think of that might halt the process." And it wouldn't have been needed if any of them had just been more alert to what that insane State Alchemist was doing as he died. Al could have been spared all of it. Although, if he had, he could never have saved his brother, nor been saved himself. Of course, neither of them might have been in that danger if Alphonse hadn't been turned into the Stone. But then neither could have been restored... Gil tried to make his thoughts stop spinning. Done was done and he couldn't pick apart the threads of the past.

Al managed a tiny smile. "Thank you."

Gil looked down at him, mind still full of causes and consequences. "For what?"

"For everything."

After a long moment, Gil breathed out and smiled faintly in the dark, feeling the whirl of his head and heart settling. "You're welcome," he murmured.

Heads or Tails

Comes in the middle of "A Good, Free, and Unconstrained Will". Takao won the coin toss. Midorima doesn't actually mind that. D/s, Porn, Fluff, I-4

It never stopped amazing Kazunari how easily Shintarou relaxed for him, in bed. All right, so he colored up adorably when Kazunari started unbuttoning his shirt, and tended to fall into flustered silence when he noticed Kazunari watching him slide his pants off and fold them neatly. But all the upright reserve that saw Shintarou through the day and let him ignore as unworthy of notice the strange looks his lucky items invariably drew eased out of him as he lay back against the sheets. As soon as Kazunari's hands touched his skin, Shintarou seemed to let all that go, and by the time Kazunari's fingers started working him open he was ready to spread his legs with perfect, unconscious wantonness and rock down onto Kazunari's hand. Kazunari loved seeing him like this.

Of course, Shintarou did tend to keep an arm thrown over his face, but that was all right. For now.

"Ready?" he murmured, curling his fingers a little to rub Shintarou inside until he gasped, hips bucking up. "Mm, looks like it."

"Yes," Shintarou agreed, husky, wetting lips that were already bitten red. The sight made heat tighten through Kazunari, made his own voice rougher.

"Good." He slid his fingers slowly free, savoring the tiny sound Shintarou made, and squeezed out a little more lube to slick over his cock. Shintarou lay waiting for him, breathing deep and quick, but still not looking. And that was why Kazunari let him keep that arm over his face for a while; he was, after all, a point guard, and no one should be surprised if he liked to be in control. The way Shintarou's breath caught when Kazunari's hands slid down his thighs to spread him wider, the open way he moaned when Kazunari's cock pushed into him, the way he relaxed into Kazunari's hands so easily, Kazunari loved all of those.

But after a few slow, rocking strokes to settle himself it was time for more.

"Shintarou," he said softly, "give me your hand."

No matter how many times they did this, that still made Shintarou gasp and tense a little. "Kazunari..."

"Shhh." He reached up to rest a hand against Shintarou's chest, steady and reassuring. "Give me your hand," he repeated lower.

Slowly, Shintarou let the arm across his face fall and held out his bare fingers, unwrapped earlier at the same time he'd set aside his glasses.

Kazunari cradled Shintarou's hand in both of his, holding those wide, uncertain eyes as he lifted it. The sudden flush in Shintarou's face when Kazunari wrapped his lips around one finger and sucked, the soft moan Shintarou tried to catch back, nearly made him moan himself. Well, no, he lied; it was the things he knew were behind that flush and that moan. It was the fact that Shintarou guarded his hands so jealously and yet would trust them to Kazunari, even when uncertainty made the fingers in Kazunari's hold tremble. It was the fact that the way Shintarou responded to having those sensitive fingers sucked was one of the few things that truly made him blush, in bed, but he would let Kazunari do it anyway. That was what made him so hard as he drove deeper into Shintarou, fucking him steadily while he played his tongue over Shintarou's fingers just as slow and wet and dirty as possible. He fucked the tight heat of his partner's ass hard and sure, and slid his lips and tongue over Shintarou's shaking fingers until Shintarou was gasping, breath cut into quick little jerks. Until he was making a soft sound, almost a whimper, at the end of every thrust. Until he closed his eyes and whispered, "Kazunari," with an edge of pleading in that low, controlled voice.

"Mmm." Kazunari smiled, licking one last time down Shintarou's fingers before he guided Shintarou's hand down to wrap those wet fingers around his own cock. "Yeah. Show me. Let me see you, Shin-chan." He closed both hands around his partner's hips, lifting him up a little so Kazunari could fuck him harder, and the first thrust drove home just as long, talented fingers stroked hard down Shintarou's cock.

Kazunari tried not to use cliches, but if Shintarou's open moan wasn't music it was still a sound that put a burst of heat down Kazunari's spine. Shintarou was gorgeous like this, spread out and undone, lips parted around low gasps, fingers sliding with desperate hunger up and down the long, hard line of his own cock. Kazunari bit down hard on his lip to keep himself from coming immediately when Shintarou arched hard, head tipped back, and his body wrung itself out around Kazunari's cock. He wanted to watch this. The velvety depth of Shintarou's moan did him in, though, and he slid helplessly over the edge after him, hips jerking hard against the curve of Shintarou's ass while the rush of pleasure made the world hazy.

The sight of Shintarou sprawled out afterwards, though, lax and flushed, was just as good.

Kazunari eased Shintarou's legs back down and stretched out to settle against him, winding an arm around Shintarou's ribs. "Good?" he asked softly. Shintarou nodded quietly and rested his bare fingers on Kazunari's shoulder, lightly. Kazunari smiled and snuggled closer, satisfied with the sure knowledge that Shintarou would say yes the next time he suggested this.

End

Evening of Primroses

Three moments in the developing relationship of Kagami, Aomine, and Kuroko as they all try to find a balance with each other. Romance, Fluff, I-3

One

Taiga had resisted for a long time, because there was such a thing as going down fighting, but the plain fact was that Aomine was cute when he was snitching food off someone.Â  Taiga wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it, but Aomine did that thing where his eyes got brighter and he laughed while he made grabby hands at his target’s bento.Â  The thing was, he let himself be elbowed off, and only sidled back in for another try when he knew his target was watching.Â  It was a game.Â  At first Taiga had thought it was just to make Tetsuya pay attention to him, but then he’d started doing it to Taiga too, and that look Taiga kept seeing on Aomine's face when he went to snitch another of Taiga's meatballs wasâ€¦Â

Okay, fine, so he was probably just a sucker; Taiga admitted it.Â  He sighed as he forked noodles into the extra layer of bento boxes that he’d gotten new this week.Â  He was starting to have a lot more sympathy for Momoi, lately, seriously. And if this had only been more of Aomine's competitive streak then he'd have been more than happy to fight it out to the death over the last croquette.Â  It was justâ€¦

The way Daiki looked at him, sidelong and uncertain under the laugh, made his chest ache.

Two

Daiki liked sitting against Tetsu’s knees.Â  He liked being able to rest his head in Tetsu’s lap and feel Tetsu’s fingers run lightly through his hair.Â  And this way he could feel Tetsu laughing silently whenever Daiki made disparaging remarks at the television.

(Seriously, not even Daiki took risks that dumb; none of these guys should last ten minutes, let alone the whole hour and a half of an action movie.)

What was still a little stranger was to feel Kagami’s arm draped over his other shoulder from where he was sprawled out on the couch behind Tetsu like some kind of extra pillow.Â  Kagami was actually the one who’d suggested movie night in the first place, and he just seemed to take it for granted that there was no reason for him not to lean against Daiki, or smack him on the shoulder when he talked over the dialog, or stroke a warm hand down Daiki’s neck when he got up to get more drinks.

It feltâ€¦ good.Â Â

And if, sometimes, Daiki pressed back a little into Taiga’s arm and maybe even purred a little at the way Taiga’s thumb rubbed over his nape, well that was just a natural reaction, wasn’t it?Â  Really, Tetsu had no reason to be smiling down at them so softly.

He turned his head a little further into Tetsu’s lap and tried not to think too hard about why the warmth of Taiga's hand made his shoulders relax.

Three

Tetsuya would never admit it out loud, but he actually kind of liked how big his partners were, how completely he was enclosed when they both held him. It felt warm and secure, and he was more than willing to cuddle shamelessly down into that feeling.

Though he did have to roll his eyes, sometimes, at the way they bickered over his head.

"We are totally going to win this round, and you’re going down," Taiga declared firmly, at complete odds with the gentle way his hands were kneading up Daiki’s back.

"Already did that once today," Daiki smirked back.Â  "That’s all you’re getting."Â  The smirk was lazy, though, and he leaned into Taiga’s hands, snuggling Tetsuya closer into the curve of his body.

If it wasn’t so cute, Tetsuya might give them both a good jab in the ribs to remind them that they weren’t just playing a one-on-one, this weekend.Â  But it really was that cute, so he reached up to slide his fingers into Taiga’s hair and tug him down to a kiss, instead.Â  It worked just as well, in the end, and Daiki made a soft sound and bent his head to press a kiss to Tetsuya’s shoulder.Â  When Tetsuya reached back to stroke his fingers through Daiki’s hair as well, Daiki settled comfortably against his back, and Tetsuya smiled softly against Taiga’s mouth.Â  This was good, having both of them here, solid and warm, wrapped around him as close as it was possible to get.

He wouldn’t let this go.

End

A/N: In ikebana, primrose is used to indicate hope.

Sun-warmed

Kagami and Aomine have a quiet moment together--so quiet that Kagami wonders a little how they got to be like this. Fluff, I-2

One of the things that had come as a surprise to Taigaâ€”and this was saying something considering that he’d never, ever expected to be in a B&D relationship, let alone a threesome of the sameâ€”one of the things was that Daiki was a cuddler when they were together.Â  At first, he’d used the couch as an excuse; it was a good excuse, because Taiga’s couch was only two cushions while Daiki’s couch sagged in the middle.Â  But it hadn’t taken long before the only excuse Daiki needed was for Taiga to be in arm’s reach, and pretty soon he’d be wrapped around Taiga like a blanket.

Taiga liked it.Â  It was just unexpected.

If he’d expected anything, it was that they’d be kind of like they were on the court, where they pushed each other until they were both swaying on their feet and gasping for air.Â  It was wild and hot and intense, which seemed to be what Daiki liked best.Â  That was how they were in bed, a lot of the time.Â  It was out of bed and off the court that Daiki turned quiet and cuddly like this.

Taiga stared up at the ceiling of Daiki’s room, running his fingers slowly through Daiki’s short, sleek hair, and finally decided he would ask.Â  “Hey.”Â  He spoke softly in the afternoon quiet of the room.Â Â

Daiki stirred, only to wind tighter around him, like a cat who wanted to keep Taiga right where he was, and made an inquiring noise against his shoulder.

Taiga smiled a little helplessly and cuddled Daiki closer, breathing out a sigh at the warm weight of him.Â  “I never thought you’d be this relaxed around me,” he murmured against Daiki’s hair.

Daiki shrugged a lazy shoulder.Â  “Easy to relax.Â  You didn’t let me down.”

Taiga’s smile turned wry.Â  “Yeah, but you usually relax by dragging me onto the nearest court and trying to beat me until we’re both falling over.”

Daiki roused long enough to poke him in the chest.Â  “Hey.Â  What do you mean ‘try’?”Â  He flopped back down heavily, driving Taiga’s breath out, and wrapped back around him.Â  After a moment, he added, “You’re Tetsu’s.”

Well, okay, yeah, that made some sense.Â  Taiga settled under Daiki, hand sliding up to rub his back.Â  “Anything he wants, hm?”

"Well, that too."Â  Daiki tilted his head back to look at Taiga, so perfectly serene that Taiga’s breath caught.Â  "Tetsu makes things happen right.Â  Whatever it takes."

"Yeah," Taiga said quietly after a few seconds.Â  "Yeah, he does."Â  As Daiki curled back up with a satisfied sound, Taiga held him close, deliberately setting down his doubts and expectations and just accepting Daiki’s warmth against him.Â  He had his answer, and it was a good one.

Tetsuya did make things happen right.Â  But maybe he also needed his partners to help him do it.

Taiga smiled up at the ceiling and held Daiki closer.

End

Cool, Clear Water

Chris finally notices just how much Miyuki has been seeking him out and decides it's his turn to speak with his actions. Romance with Physiotherapy and Fluff, I-3

Kazuya's first physical therapy appointment made him wonder if maybe it would have hurt less to just keep playing injured.

The stretches weren't too bad. Lying with his spine on the foam roll actually felt kind of good, at least along his shoulders. Finding out how far he could rotate his lower body wasn't the best time he'd ever had, but Maki-san, the steely-eyed trainer he'd been assigned, had watched carefully and then moved his knees herself, stopping them just before the point of pain on each side, and ordered him not to stretch a single centimeter further without her say-so. A little daunted by her resemblance to an annoyed Rei-san, he'd promised, and promptly had more foam blocks shoved under his knees to make sure. He couldn't help wondering, a little self-consciously, if she had a lot of troublesome athletic patients. He was trying to be good, now the fall tournament was over, really!

It was a little hard, though, when she was working over the muscles of his uninjured side, hands just as merciless as her eyes.

"Take a deep breath." She drove a thumb into a knot just under his ribs. It felt like she'd driven in a spike.

"Ngh! Trying..."

"Yes, you've definitely been straining these muscles to compensate." She looked disapproving as she pinched something tense at his waist between thumb and first knuckle and twisted slowly.

"NoticING... that," he finished on a gasp, eyes watering.

"Definitely do supported side stretches on the left every day," she directed, running a heavy palm down his hip and flank, unerringly following the line of greatest pain. He gritted his teeth and made a wordless sound he hoped she took for agreement.

When she finally let him go, he curled up on his side on the bench, panting for breath and a little light-headed. His whole body felt shaky.

"Rest for a little while, and then drink more water," Maki-san ordered, patted him briskly on the shoulder, and strode off. Presumably to her next victim. Kazuya stayed right where he was as the sounds of the gym filtered back in and started making sense again, the slow clanks of the weight machine Animal-san had his current client working on, the steady thump of someone else on a treadmill.

Eventually, when he was sure his voice would be suitably mild and ironic, he remarked, "Ow." It still came out more heartfelt than he'd intended.

"Are you doing all right?"

Kazuya was pretty sure his body tried to start, but all he managed was a twitch before carefully craning his head back to look up at Chris, who was standing over him with a small, wry smile and a water bottle.

He wasn't sure whether to kiss Rei-san or curse her for carting him off to Chris' father's gym for his physical therapy. He thought there might be discounts involved. Either way, there was Chris involved, and he was very aware of how pathetic it was to want to show off via physical therapy, thank you, he just... couldn't quite stifle the impulse. He'd never been able to completely stifle that particular impulse, around Chris.

Which was why he pushed himself upright with a smile, and if the smile had a bit of gritted teeth as his ribs twinged viciously no one had to know but him. "Yeah, I'm fine! Thanks." He took the water Chris offered with his left hand, so he wouldn't wince when he lifted it, only to nearly drop it when his even his good arm wobbled alarmingly.

"Easy." Chris slid a fast hand under the bottle, the other settling on Kazuya's shoulder. "You aren't going to bounce instantly back from your first round of therapy," he said quietly, and there was a dark enough shade of knowledge in his voice that Kazuya lowered his eyes and just nodded. A second try got the bottle to his mouth without mishap, and he was counting that as a win.

"Sore?" Chris asked with a knowing tilt to the corner of his mouth that made Kazuya wonder if he'd worked with Maki-san too.

"A little," he admitted. "Mostly not where I'm injured!" He chalked up another small win when Chris laughed quietly.

"Chiyo-san is very good with soft-tissue injuries, but she's pretty strict." He slung a leg over the bench and slid down beside Kazuya. "Here?" He settled one broad hand against Kazuya's lower back, on the left, and just that little pressure woke a few sparks of protest from roundly abused muscles. Kazuya tried not to wince.

"Yeah. In absolute terms, I'm glad she caught it; I certainly don't want a compensation injury. Still." He grinned, tilted, and repeated with proper insouciance this time, "Ow." Though actually, the warmth of Chris' hand through his thin T-shirt was kind of soothing. He chased that thought to the back of his head where it belonged and took another drink.

Chris was frowning thoughtfully when he looked again. "Yes. I can feel how these shake when you lift something. It's probably just the hypertonic release, on this side, but... here." He slid off the bench to crouch in front of Kazuya, and Kazuya froze, eyes widening helplessly as Chris' hands nudged up the hem of his shirt and curved around his lower ribs on each side, warm and sure and oh he really needed to stop thinking about that right now. He barely heard it when Chris said, "Lift both arms for a second."

His brain only kicked in again when Chris glanced up at him, brows drawing down in concern. "Miyuki? Are you all right?" The light pressure of his hands let up quickly. "Does even that hurt?"

Kazuya shook himself and forced a bright laugh, even if his ribs did protest it. "No, it's fine, sorry, just spaced out a little, there! Maki-san really wrings a person out."

Chris' expression relaxed back into a faint, commiserating smile and his hands settled firmly again. Kazuya tried very hard not to let his breath hitch. "She does. Lift your arms for a moment."

Kazuya did, watching as Chris' eyes turned a little distant, as if listening for something. "I'm not nearly the kind of expert she is," he said, finally, "but it doesn't feel like anything's strained on the left, yet, and you're not pulling unevenly as long as you're not lifting any weight. You'll probably be sore all day, but the tremors should fade soon." His hands slid away from Kazuya's ribs, gentle, and Kazuya swallowed back the tiny sound of protest that wanted to escape. Chris stood and smiled down at him, sympathy giving way to an amused glint in his eyes. "So it's probably about time to stand up and start moving around again."

Kazuya groaned theatrically, but did as Chris said and let himself be chivvied over to the treadmills, relieved to have escaped without giving himself away. He could take Chris' sympathy over the pain of rehab, and Chris' wicked humor too. But he thought the quiet, gentle way he knew Chris would let him down over his forlorn little crush would probably break him where nothing else could. So he paced along at an easy walk and tried to forget the feel of large, warm hands against his skin.

Chris closed his literature notes and leaned back in his desk chair, stretching until his spine popped. He let his lightly clasped hands fall behind his head and stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully. Literature was usually one of his best subjects, but he was distracted tonight. The memory of Miyuki's expression this afternoon kept popping up and nudging his thoughts for attention.

Rather, now that he was thinking about it, the way Miyuki himself had ever since he arrived at Seidou.

Now that he was thinking about it, a whole collection of little moments was coming to mind, spread out over the last year and a half: Miyuki grinning, Miyuki intent, Miyuki quiet and watchful, Miyuki bright and excited. Each time, Miyuki coming to him. It was a commonality that made his analytical sense itch, because when he looked back on it, the only people he'd observed Miyuki going to regularly were his pitchers.

And Chris.

And this afternoon... Miyuki hadn't looked spaced out. He'd looked flustered for just a breath, before he'd buried it under a grin. Chris' memory, now he consulted it, suggested that when Miyuki grinned like that it was usually to misdirect attention. But he was reasonably sure Miyuki hadn't been trying to cover up discomfort. Just possibly, in light of Miyuki's gravitation toward him and considering how flushed Miyuki's face had been, possibly quite the reverse.

Chris tilted his chair back on two legs and frowned a little to himself. If he was right... well that was the catch, wasn't it? If. And given Miyuki's deflection, he obviously wasn't about to make things easy by confessing.

The very idea of any love-confession Miyuki Kazuya might come up with made Chris laugh out loud, open and rueful, because if there was anyone more emotionally elusive on Seidou's team... Ryousuke, maybe. The very idea.

And, really, tracking back through his interactions with Miyuki over the past few months was far from conclusive. Miyuki had come to him several times, but mostly to ask for help pulling Sawamura into shape. It was always possible that Miyuki's willingness to go to Chris was simply an extension of the care he took of his pitchers. For values of "care" that did often look like "merciless hounding" Chris allowed with a smile at his ceiling; he'd been able to appreciate that more in the last few months. Ever since Sawamura...

Chris straightened abruptly, letting his chair fall upright as the connection drew itself in his mind, sure and solid, from Sawamura back to Miyuki.

Miyuki often came to him about Sawamura, which had made sense to Chris at the start because of course the second-string catcher would work with a second-string pitcher, and goodness knew someone had had to drill Sawamura in the basics. And later it had been fairly obvious that Miyuki had cast Chris as the good guy, the one who would help Sawamura after Miyuki had wound him up sufficiently. But maybe that hadn't only been about Sawamura.

He remembered, now. It had happened while Sawamura was still throwing tantrums over his basic training menu. And the time Chris was thinking about, he hadn't just complained that Miyuki was too busy with Furuya to work with him.

I don't know why that bastard's making me work with you when you won't even catch for me!

It had been, at the time, a typically self-centered complaint and Chris had ignored it. Sawamura had made similar complaints often enough, and when Chris thought about them at all he thought Sawamura had been complaining about the coach making him work with Chris. But even at his petulant worst, Sawamura had never called the coach names. It was Miyuki that Sawamura said things like that about. Miyuki, who had never treated Chris like second-string or like he was retired. Who had, from what Sawamura had said, been the one to suggest Sawamura work with Chris when Chris was giving even his own yearmates the cold shoulder and shutting down his kouhai with quiet viciousness. Viciousness that hadn't stopped until Sawamura had run right over top of it, the only one both bull-headed and good-hearted enough to ignore it.

The one Miyuki had, apparently, aimed at him.

Chris' smile spread slowly wider and wider as he contemplated that, until he just had to chuckle. It was such a typically Miyuki maneuver. He was so rarely straightforward about anything except the game itself.

And if that was the case then all those moments when Miyuki had tracked him down to ask for his advice, for his help, for his presence at a game, took on a different aspect. It was Miyuki's actions Chris needed to be looking at, not his words. And Miyuki's actions sought him out, reached out for him, hung near him even when Chris had been relentlessly turning away.

Chris sobered at that, remembering how harshly he had turned Miyuki in particular away at times. Small wonder that Miyuki only approached him with a cast-iron excuse in hand, lately. Which meant Miyuki might behave... unpredictably if Chris tried to talk to him about this. No catcher Chris knew liked being caught unprepared, and Miyuki moreso than most. Chris picked up his pencil and turned it through his fingers as he thought, tapping the end against his notes. Perhaps what he needed to do was answer Miyuki's actions with actions, until Miyuki understood that he was welcome.

And then he paused, pencil suspended in mid-air.

I do welcome him, don't I? he thought, a little wondering. That hadn't been a question in his mind at all, as he thought about this. Only how to be sure, and how to let Miyuki be sure. Chris laughed softly to himself; however covert it might have been, Miyuki's campaign for his attention had worked very well indeed.

Well, then, perhaps it was time he followed Miyuki's example and acted on that.

Kazuya thought he was maybe getting used to this whole physical therapy thing. It didn't feel like quite such a failure just to walk in the doors any more, at any rate.

And he could feel guilty that a lot of the reason for that was getting to talk with Chris at PT, or he could concentrate on enjoying getting to talk with Chris, and between the two he knew he was going to indulge in the latter for as long as he could. If that was a little pathetic, well so be it. There was a significant part of him that rolled over and basked in Chris' attention every time he came over to check on Kazuya, and Kazuya felt he had come to terms with that. It wasn't even about the feeling he couldn't win against Chris, now, it was that... well, he wasn't sure if winning was what he even wanted right now. Maybe it would be again some day. He was pretty sure it would, actually. But right now, when it was just the two of them...

"Did Chiyo-san let you increase the angle of your stretches, today?"

Kazuya looked up, completely unable to help how bright his grin was as Chris came and leaned against the weights beside his mat, looking quietly pleased. "Yeah, she did. She said if I don't do anything stupid in the meantime she may let me try to lift some weight next week."

Chris chuckled and held a hand down to him. "She thinks it's possible you won't do something stupid; that's quite a concession. Congratulations."

Kazuya reached up and let himself wrap his fingers around the corded strength of Chris' forearm, and let Chris pull him easily up, and did not let his hand linger on Chris'. Much. Noticeably. He hoped. "I've been good!" he proclaimed. "I haven't tried to practice at all." Despite how completely unnatural that felt.

Chris clapped him gently on the shoulder, eyes steady on him. "I know."

That understanding always made Kazuya's jaw tighten, made him fight to keep his gaze level, because Chris had done this for a year. Having tasted just a few weeks of it, thinking about that made Kazuya feel something uncomfortably close to tears and just as close to awe. The hand on his shoulder tightened just a little, gave him a tiny shake, and Chris' quiet smile turned grave, acknowledging, for a breath. And then it was just a smile and Kazuya could breathe again.

"Is one of the coaches picking you up, or are you on your own today?"

"Nope, I was allowed out all on my own," Kazuya grinned.

"I'm sure Takishima-san needed the break," Chris paused just long enough to be noticeable before continuing, perfectly straight-faced, "from so much driving." A tiny smile curled his lips when Kazuya clutched his chest in exaggerated injury. "Not Ochiai-san either, though?"

Kazuya snorted softly, remembering the looks Ochiai-san had been giving him latelyâ€”sometimes thoughtful, sometimes exasperated, sometimes almost wistful in a way that made Kazuya wonder what kind of teams the man had had before them. The exasperation was a lot easier to understand, of course; Ochiai had obviously been thinking of Kazuya as one of his own kind, before they'd actually talked. Well, it wasn't like Ochiai-san was the first to mistake his strategic sense for actual cool-headedness, and if he was staying on at Seidou as the voice of experience it was probably best that he learn now just how much Kazuya favored aggressive tactics. "He's pretty busy still, seeing what everyone can do," was all he said, though.

Chris' eyes still narrowed thoughtfully at that, but he let it pass, which Kazuya was grateful for; he knew perfectly well he wouldn't be able to hold out if Chris questioned him. He'd gotten so used to just talking with Chris, here, and... it felt really good. Just to talk. "I'll see you back to school, then. Let's go get changed."

"Sure thing!" Kazuya grinned, firmly quashing a completely ridiculous rush of happiness at the thought of walking back to the dorm with Chris. Of riding the train back, with Chris. He made for the gym's changing rooms, determined to stick his head under some cold water and hopefully stop being so absurd.

It really didn't help that Chris followed along to change back into street clothes himself. As if it weren't enough to be kind and talented and stoic, Chris was also nearly the platonic ideal of a catcher, all broad shoulders and powerful arms and heavily muscled thighs, big and solid enough to give anyone thinking of charging the plate pause and flexible enough to make any catch and fire the ball straight back, and Kazuya really needed to stop looking, before he embarrassed himself. Honestly, he'd made it through nearly two years of communal baths and living one thin wall away from Chris, and it was only now he was having trouble controlling himself. This was ridiculous. He towelled off briskly and hauled on his jeans, studiously keeping his eyes on his hands. It was harder than it should have been

He'd gotten used to having Chris near, these last few weeks. Maybe more used than he should have let himself. Before this, before he'd actually talked much with Chris, it had been easier. Not easy, not when the one he'd counted on competing with and honing himself against had vanished just as Kazuya had thought he'd caught up. But he'd been used to distance, really, he'd known how to deal with that. Having Chris smile, having him come over to see how Kazuya was doing, having him sit and talk after they'd both finished their exercises... that was actually a lot harder. Kazuya stuffed his feet into his sneakers, trying to ignore the warm feeling in his chest that came from just thinking about this.

"Ready to go?"

Kazuya looked up with an all-purpose grin to meet Chris' small, easy smile and grabbed his sweatshirt to knot around his waist. "Sure thing, Chris-senpai." He added the way the v-neck of Chris' light sweater framed his throat and collarbones firmly to the list of things he was not going to think about and followed Chris out through the lobby.

The light was moving towards evening, starting to be cut off by the taller buildings and become an indirect glow. The flow of people was ebbing out toward that low point after the homeward rush and before people emerged again for food and entertainment. It felt a little strange to walk through that familiar flow of people, now; living in the sports dorms had put him out of step with the city's rhythm. He felt a little separate from it, as if he and Chris were moving inside some kind of bubble, apart from the thinning crowd.

And maybe Chris felt it too. Maybe that was why he walked close, shoulders brushing now and then. This part of town was Chris' own, as Kazuya was reminded when Chris steered them into the small arcade between two buildings, a glassed walkway overhead and tall bushes nearly hiding a couple vending machines.

"Here. I think I want a drink after today's session."

"Yeah, sure. Don't blame you." Kazuya followed the light press of Chris' arm against his and leaned against the wall out of reach of the slightly overgrown shrubs while Chris fed coins to the drinks machine, settling deeper into not thinking about anything.

So he started a little when Chris tossed him a bottle. "Oh. Thanks."

Chris gave him a wry smile. "I do remember that I'm your senpai, past evidence to the contrary aside."

Kazuya's attempts to not think collapsed in a rush of memory: Chris silent and stiff-shouldered, Chris turning away, Chris's eyes resting on him only briefly, dark and flat. And he'd been holding on so hard to not-thinking-about-all-this that he wasn't ready, and flinched. "Does this mean I get to make you buy dinner at the station?" he joked, trying to cover it.

Chris, unfortunately, had a catcher's perception and attention to detail, and he stepped over to rest a hand on Kazuya's shoulder. "Yes," he agreed, quietly, "among other things. I know that will probably take a while for you to believe, after the last year and a half."

"Of course it won't, Chris-senpai," Kazuya said, lower than he quite meant to, eyes on the bottle in his hands. "I mean, it's you."

He could feel the weight of Chris' eyes on him, nearly tangible, thoughtful when he darted a glance up before looking back at his drink. When Chris spoke, his voice was soft, just between the two of them, as if the slowing traffic beyond the bushes and vending machines didn't exist at all. As if the rest of the city didn't exist. "Will you trust me, then?"

That startled Kazuya into looking all the way up, startled the words out of him before he managed to bite them off. "I've alwaysâ€”" Chris waited for him, when he broke off, not pressing but... inviting. With his quiet, with the ease of his whole stance, with his grave attention to Kazuya. Inviting him to go on. It shook him like no words of encouragement could have, and he swallowed hard.

"Let me ask something simpler, then," Chris said, finally, as gentle with Kazuya as he was with the first-years. "Will you trust me now?"

Kazuya laughed, because he couldn't help it, voiceless and unsteady. He'd never had anyone make it simpler for him, never had anyone make allowances, never needed it, and he'd always taken a hard pride in that. But this was Chris, and that bit of generosity and care made something in him yearn forward helplessly. "Yes, Chris-senpai," he answered, half rueful, inviting Chris to share the irony of it all with a tilted smile.

Chris just smiled back, eyes warm. "Good."

And then Chris leaned down and kissed him.

Kazuya's thoughts just stopped, ploughing into a wall of blank white, because... there was no plan for this. No contingency. No response at the ready, because this was never going to happen. But it was definitely Chris leaning over him, Chris' fingers gently nudging his chin up so Chris' mouth could fit against his more firmly. And... that was his voice, wasn't it, making those breathless little sounds, and his fingers curled in the soft knit of Chris' sweater. When Chris let him go, he could only lean back against the bricks and stare up at him, at a thorough loss for words.

"Trust that I see you, now, and that I'm paying attention," Chris told him, quiet and certain.

"I..." Kazuya wasn't actually sure what to say about that, and wound up falling back on a husky, "Yes, Chris-senpai."

Chris brushed another, lighter kiss over his lips and pressed a softer one to his forehead. "Come along, then, and I'll take you back to campus."

Kazuya just nodded and walked silently beside him, back out onto the sidewalk and toward the station, trying to sort out the rather dazed tangle of his thoughts.

It took him until they were on the train to even remember his drink.

Chris let the quiet between he and Miyuki linger as they walked from the station back to campus. He'd ambushed Miyuki a bit, and while Miyuki reacted superbly well under pressure, a counter-attack wasn't exactly the kind of response Chris wanted from him. So he let Miyuki think things over silently until they reached the school-buildings. In the shadow of the south wing he finally laid a hand on Miyuki's shoulder, halting them, and murmured, "Will you be all right on your own, the rest of the way?"

Miyuki blinked and shook himself a little. "Yeah, of course."

Chris' mouth quirked at that obviously reflex answer. He still didn't want to push Miyuki, though, not tonight, so he contented himself with a soft, "Good." He smiled, gentle and encouraging, and added, "Remember that you can come to me without needing an excuse anymore, all right?"

Miyuki nodded, but Chris still had a hand on his shoulder and could feel the faint tension that threaded through him. He shook his head ruefully; he should have known Miyuki would still be uncertain. "Miyuki. Come here." Miyuki stiffened more, eyes going rather wide as Chris pulled him close, gathered him in and held him.

"Senpai?" There was a lost note lurking in Miyuki's voice, and it roused an unexpected protectiveness in Chris. He let the feeling guide him, let his arms tighten until Miyuki was settled firmly against him, hands coming up in fits and starts to close on Chris' back.

"Will you mind if I start coming to find you, too?" he murmured, against Miyuki's hair.

Some of Miyuki's tension eased, the deeper tension Chris thought. "No," Miyuki said, very quietly against his shoulder. "No, I... I won't mind." Chris smiled as Miyuki's body relaxed against his, little by little.

"Good."

This time he gave Miyuki more time to respond to him, sliding his fingers into the softness of Miyuki's hair and tipping his head gently back until Chris could kiss him, slow and sure. And this time Miyuki answered him, hesitant but not hiding anything as he opened his mouth under Chris', pressing closer. He was flushed when Chris finally drew back, and Chris had to restrain a suggestion that they retire to Miyuki's room right now. He rested his forehead against Miyuki's and repeated, voice lower this time, "Come and see me on your own account, Kauzya. You are very welcome."

Miyuki wet his lips, and the curl of heat that sent through Chris made him remind himself sternly that he was going to give Miyuki time to get used to this. The softness in Miyuki's reply spoke of lingering uncertainty, for all his willingness. "I will, Chris-senpai."

Chris nodded, satisfied, and held him closer in the shadow of the tall class-room building, smiling a little wryly when Miyuki's forehead came to rest against his shoulder, hiding Miyuki's expression. "You don't have to trust easily," he murmured against Miyuki's ear, holding him fast when Miyuki tensed again. "Only believe what your own senses tell you. That isn't too hard, is it?"

An unvoiced laugh shook Miyuki, but his arms tightened around Chris. "I'll try," he whispered.

A rush of tenderness wound through Chris' chest, warm and light. "Then I have no doubt you will." He had Miyuki's stubbornness to thank for this very moment, after all. "I'll demonstrate that for you as often as you need."

Miyuki finally lifted his head and smiled up at Chris, crooked and ironic as ever, but with a slow, cautious happiness behind it. "Okay."

Chris kissed him one more time, chasing away the tilt to his mouth, and smiled down at him. "Good."

They would be well; he was sure of it, now. Their shared time, these last few weeks, was already witness to how far both of them would go to keep from losing, when it was important. The lean, quiet strength of Miyuki in his arms, the slow, shy relaxation of Miyuki's body against his... this was important.

So this, he wouldn't lose.

End

A Language of Daisies

The drama club is putting on a play with some scenes worth of Wako's fantasies. Takuto has to work a little to wrap his brain around the whole thing. Humor, Romance, Fluff, I-3

Yamasugata-senpai clapped her hands briskly. "All right, everyone! This is the first run-through without scripts, so you can call for a line of you need it, but try to keep the momentum of the scene going."

Takuto slumped down on the stool that was currently being a 'roof railing'. His cheeks felt hot, and he was pretty sure he was blushing. "Do we really have to do this?"

Standing beside him on the raised 'stage', Sugata turned his palms up helplessly, mouth quirked. "The majority of the club voted to include the scene."

"Maybe we could vote again..." Takuto looked over at Wako, currently playing audience, but she just gave him a cheerful, encouraging thumbs up. There was no hope of reprieve there. He sighed.

"It isn't that bad," Sugata told him, clearly amused. "At least you don't have to play the bad guy."

Takuto grinned up at him. "You're too good at it, is the problem." And then he nearly bit his tongue as Sugata's eyes darkened for a moment. None of them liked remembering that they'd believed, even for a handful of minutes, that Sugata had really chosen Samekh's power over Wako's safety. "Sugata..."

Sugata straightened. "It's fine. Ready to run through this?"

Takuto hesitated, wanting to reassure his friend, but one thing he had learned was that Sugata just closed up if you pressed him. So he nodded instead. "Sure!"

Sugata stepped back to the other side of the stage and Yamasugata-senpai folded the master script open to the Scene Of Doom, pencil poised. "Okay, take it from F's entry."

Sugata closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. When he got to the bottom of the breath, his eyes snapped open, suddenly sharp and sardonic as he stepped through a currently imaginary doorway onto the imaginary roof this scene called for. An equally imaginary cloak was nearly visible, falling from shoulders that suddenly looked straighter and broader. Takuto had to shake himself out of his fascination to lean against his stool as though it were a rail; no matter how many times he saw Sugata enter a character, it never stopped being amazing.

"I thought I might find you here," Sugata said, low but carrying, and that was another really cool trick, and Takuto had a line didn't he? Right.

Takuto lifted his chin and tried to think like a prophesied savior with a mystical world destroyer for a best friend... stalker... thing. "We need to settle this. And I don't want anyone else involved."

Sugata's smile was really kind of alarming, and Takuto had no trouble pressing back against the stool/railing as he paced closer. "The whole world is involved already."

"They shouldn't be!" Takuto pushed himself off the stool in a rush of conviction. Now his character was starting to come together. This was familiar enough, the knowledge of power and the need to use it well, use it to protect.

And then he squeaked as Sugata took one more long stride and pressed him back against the wall. That was okay, it was totally in character for K to be a little freaked out. There was one swift flash of wry sympathy in Sugata's eyes before he blinked and was back in character. Takuto swallowed, eyes widening as Sugata's fingers caught his chin and lifted it.

"We are the future of the world." Sugata's words filled the space, low and intimate. "What do you wish to make of it?" His thumb stroked over Takuto's lips slowly and Takuto felt his whole face flush hot.

"I... um... The... The world..." Takuto's hands scrabbled at the wall behind him as Sugata leaned closer. "Help...?" he finished, strangled.

The corners of Sugata's mouth quivered as he looked at Takuto. One breath, and then two, and he finally lost it, dissolving into helpless laughter.

"Takuto-sama!" Yamasugata-senpai scolded. "If you forget your part, the word is 'line', not 'help'!"

Sugata buried his head in his arm, leaning against the wall, shoulders shaking with stifled laughter. Takuto cleared his throat. "Line?" he asked, meekly. He was probably as red as his hair, he reflected ruefully.

"'The world will make itself; we have no right to interfere.'" Yamasugata-senpai read from the script, and gave Sugata a stern look. "Botchan!"

"Sorry, sorry." Sugata straightened up, wiping his eyes. He looked down at Takuto, slumped against the wall in embarrassment, and smiled the way he did when Takuto and Wako argued over breakfast in the mornings. Takuto smiled up at him, lopsided, and shrugged. He knew his classmates all thought it was funny how flustered he got over romantic stuff, even after a year of regularly being teased by Watanabe Kanako. Sugata shook his head and murmured, "Takuto," amused and affectionate.

And, as easily as he smiled, he tipped Takuto's chin up and leaned in and kissed him.

Takuto was aware of someone squeaking, but he didn't think it was him this time. Because this wasn't alarming; this was just... Sugata. Gentle and friendly and a little amused with him. When Sugata drew back, Takuto closed a hand on his arm and looked back at him, steady and smiling; he'd never thought to do it this way, but he figured he'd just managed to reassure Sugata after all.

The both jumped a little when Yamasugata-senpai slapped her script into her palm. "That was nice, but not quite the feel we need for this scene. Try it again from the top."

Takuto thought about Sugata leaning over him again with that predatory, in-character look in his eyes, and turned around to bang his head against the wall a few times with a faint moan. Why had he thought it was a good idea to stay in the drama club for a second year? There was a laugh running under Sugata's voice again as he suggested, "Why don't we let this scene go for today? We can try it again tomorrow, when everyone is a little calmer."

Wako and Sugatame both made disappointed sounds and Takuto whimpered. He was going to die of embarrassment before they even got to dress rehearsal.

"I think there's only one thing to do," Sugata said, as he and Takuto and Wako walked home. "We're going to have to practice."

"Practice?" Wako and Takuto squeaked together, and Sugata very clearly choked back a laugh.

"If we run through it without the actual lines, without trying to be very in character," he pointed out, once he'd gotten himself back under control, "Takuto will have a chance to get used to the idea."

Takuto took a deep breath. These were his high school years, and he was going to make the most of them! That included clubs and dares and doing crazy things. Surely this wouldn't be any more crazy than driving Tauburn, right?

Right.

"Okay," he agreed, sturdily. "We'll practice." His resolution wilted a little in face of Wako's pink cheeks and rather starry eyes. "Without an audience?"

Wako pouted at them, but Takuto was pretty sure it was just for show. "Oh all right, fine. I won't come by until breakfast." As they approached her turn-off, though, she grinned. "Since I can't watch, though..." She spun around in front of them and leaned up to kiss first Sugata and then Takuto, soft but not quick, on the lips. "There!" She ran down the path to her shrine, laughing.

Takuto stared after her, still feeling the pressure of her hands on his shoulders, and touched his fingertips to his mouth. The kisses they'd tried before now had been a lot shyer than that. Maybe Wako wanted... He didn't move until Sugata cleared his throat.

"Well." Sugata, when Takuto looked, was a little pink himself. "Let's see if there's a room we can lock Tiger and Jaguar out of, yes?"

Recalled to the practical, Takuto grinned. "And maybe one without windows, either."

It could be worse. At least he was still boarding with Sugata; they could be trying to find practice space in the dorm instead. He followed Sugata down the road, shuddering at the mental image of Shinada-senpai walking in on them, and fervently counting his blessings.

"All right, F crosses slowly to K with slightly menacing banter, and pins K against the wall." Sugata suited action to words, crossing the lamp-lit library, and Takuto could feel himself turning red again.

"Are we sure the door's locked?" he asked, craning his head to see around the bookcase beside him.

"Very sure." Sugata smiled. "I don't really think I want those two taking pictures of this for the family album."

Takuto took a deep breath. "Okay. So. F pins K against the wall. And, um." He swallowed as Sugata's hand came up to catch his chin. "Yeah, that."

"By the way, did I hear you and Kate trading weekend shifts, in class today?" Sugata asked quite casually. Takuto blinked at him.

"Oh. Yeah, she said she wanted Saturday off, so I said I'd switch shifts with her. I guess she wants to go shoppi—mph!" He caught at Sugata's shoulders, startled by the sudden kiss. When Sugata let him go and gave him a mischievous smile, he had to laugh. "I don't think that's quite the feel Yamasugata-senpai wants for the scene either."

"No, but you didn't panic," Sugata pointed out. "Again?"

Takuto leaned back against the wall, starting to relax. This was a challenge; he knew what to do with that. "Yeah, again."

Sugata crossed the room again, and while Takuto still felt a tingle of nervous heat when Sugata braced an arm on the wall over his head, he didn't freeze. Not even when Sugata ran a thumb over his mouth. "Okay, K's line about how the world will make itself," he said, only a little husky.

Sugata nodded and gave F's next line, though without any particular expression. "We are the world's hands for its making. Someone must choose." He leaned in and kissed Takuto, light and gentle but taking his time. "What is your wish?"

Takuto, distracted by a tickle of thought at the back of his head, frowned. "Um. It's... It's... oh hell."

Sugata chuckled. "Jaguar would remind you to say 'line'. 'I choose to keep trying.'"

"Right." Takuto frowned some more. There was something... "Tauburn?" he murmured.

Sugata stiffened, pushing away from the wall to stand straight and poised. "Takuto? What is it?"

Takuto waved his hands hastily. "No, no, it's nothing. It's just... a thought. I wondered if..." He frowned some more; there weren't even words to the hint of an idea. Just a feeling. Finally he looked up, decided. "Sugata, kiss me in character."

Sugata's brows quirked. "You're sure?" At Takuto's firm nod, he shrugged and took a step back, looking down. When he looked up, he had F's knowing smile on his face, and F's sure confidence as he stepped forward again and caught Takuto's wrist to press him back against the wall. "Someone must choose," he said, voice deep and quiet, and lifted Takuto's chin to take his mouth.

A quick shiver of heat and alarm poured down Takuto's spine, and this time he listened to it. There were other feelings in it. Desire. Sorrow. Yearning. Anger. They sent him pressing back against Sugata's mouth, free hand winding into Sugata's shirt.

"What is your wish?" Sugata asked softly, coaxing and taunting.

"All," Takuto whispered, ignoring the script to put words to the faint echo of feelings in his chest. He stared at Sugata barely seeing him. "I will save all of them. Even you!"

Sugata pulled back again, frowning. "Takuto?"

"I think it really is Tauburn," Takuto said softly, closing his eyes for a moment. "When you're in character, and we do this scene... it makes me remember things. Things he felt." He opened his eyes and looked steadily at Sugata. "About Samekh."

For a moment he wasn't sure Sugata was breathing, he was so still. But finally, he shook himself and crossed his arms, eyes dark. "Tauburn wanted to save Samekh?"

Takuto pressed a hand to his chest. "My enemy," he said softly. "My king. My friend. That's what it feels like."

After a moment, Sugata snorted. "The two of you are a matched pair, all right." He pulled a chair out from under the room's desk and slung a leg over it, arms folded across the back. "Will this help with the scene, though? If you use Tauburn's memories, that will make it more real to you, I think."

Takuto's mouth quirked wryly and he perched on the wheeled stairs against the nearest bookcases. "Isn't that what we want? I mean, real without me flailing and forgetting my lines?"

Sugata looked up at him, thoughtful. "Is that what you want?"

A real kiss, Takuto thought he meant, and his cheeks went a little hot again. "When you kissed me during rehearsal today," he said quietly, "that was real; real for us."

Sugata's eyes softened with surprise. "Takuto."

Takuto smiled, running a hand through his hair. "We agreed, didn't we? That Wako didn't have to choose. And neither do we. So." He took a breath and hopped off the stairs and came to lean over Sugata. He brushed his fingers over Sugata's cheek to steady both of them, and kissed him, soft and warm. "That's real," he said, standing up. "Right? The scene. F. Whatever memories fit with that. Those are acting."

Sugata was staring up at him, looking thoroughly startled. "Takuto." After a long moment, he smiled, slow and hesitant. "Yes. That was real," he agreed quietly.

"So we know the difference," Takuto said, more confident now. "Let's do the scene one more time. I think I've got it, now!"

Sugata laughed softly. "I wouldn't be at all surprised."

One week from dress rehearsal, the play was going much better. At least Takuto thought so.

Sugata stalked across the drama club's rehearsal space, gaze fixed heavy and dark on Takuto. "The world is already involved."

Takuto raised his chin and clenched his fists, even backed up against the 'rail' as he was. "They shouldn't be!" His breath caught as Sugata closed the last stride and pinned him against the wall, and he let the faint impressions of Tauburn's memories brace his shoulders stiffly. This was the one he was devoted to. This was the one he must, at all costs, defeat. The tension of the two pulled his brows tight as he looked up at Sugata.

"We are the future of the world," Sugata told him, low and intent as if he hadn't even heard, catching Takuto's chin. "What do you wish to make of it?"

"The world will make itself," Takuto answered, husky with the pull of Sugata's presence so close but half pleading for Sugata to hear him across the distance that separated them. "We have no right to interfere!"

Sugata's thumb stroked over his lips, coaxing them apart, and Takuto swallowed hard. "We are the world's hands for its making. Someone must choose." He smiled, as if he knew perfectly well how torn Takuto was, and leaned in to kiss him. Slowly. There were whistles from the audience. "What is your wish?" he asked against Takuto's mouth.

Takuto closed his hands tight on Sugata's shoulders, shutting his eyes for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was soft and sure. "If I have to choose, I choose you." He opened his eyes and smiled, wryly, at the flash of Sugata's own startlement through his character. "The world will take care of itself. What we can save is right in front of us, right now. That's what's important." He pushed Sugata back and straightened, matching his own determination with the echo of Tauburn's. "The thing I choose to save... is you."

Yamasugata-senpai threw up her hands, sending her pencil flying to clatter against the wall. "Takuto-sama! That's the third time we've rehearsed this scene, and you've answered a different way every single time!" She glared over her glasses at him. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were just trying to get more kisses."

Wako and Sugatame both turned pink and clung together in their folding chairs, squeaking.

Takuto looked over Sugata's shoulder apologetically. "It's just... a moment that needs to speak from the heart. Don't you think?"

"All the lines have fitted in," Sugata added, looking around. "Can't we just pencil that in as an ad lib? It seems to be working."

Yamasugata-senpai sighed and went to fetch her pencil. "All right, but you'd better not freeze during the performance, Takuto-sama!"

Takuto nodded firmly, confident. "I won't."

"All right." She scribbled in the master script with an air of finality. "Let's go on to the fight scene, then. And this time, be sure you don't break anything, you two! This isn't the dojo!"

Sugatame fetched out the prop swords and Wako ran to her entrance mark, so that she, as the spirit of F's sister, could narrate the ending. Takuto took a few breaths, preparing for the fight scene. Staged or not, Sugata never went easy on him when they had swords in their hands. That was okay, though. He figured three not-real kisses made pretty good compensation. He caught Sugata's eye and shared a grin.

Maybe he could get a real one later. Maybe this time, Wako would be there to share it.

End

A/N: For those who have not guessed already, the play the club is putting on is based on CLAMP's X. I propose that Tiger is a fan, and totally lost her patience and wrote an ending for it, and Jaguar figured it was a sure-thing winner when modified to script form (not least because Wako would be certain to vote for the kiss scene).

Candles Lit at the Doors

Jingrui is finding himself drawn back toward a military position, after fighting at the northern border, and Yujin follows along, as he always has, despite his own reservations. Along the way, the two of them get into trouble, politics, and eventually a deeper understanding. Drama with Politics and Romance, and also a Sprinkle of Porn, I-4

Finding a Path

The road that led past the river north of Jinling was a good one for racing on. It got less traffic than the others, and ran fairly flat until it reached the tree line. Yujin had raced Jingrui down this stretch many a time, once they were both old enough to be let out on their own horses without an older cousin to mind them.

Today they gave their horses their heads, but it wasn't a race. They rode close all the way to the trees, horses running shoulder to shoulder, slowing together as they passed between the first tall trunks. Yujin waited until they were well under the unfolding spring leaves before he spoke.

"It's really true, then."

Jingrui flashed a bright smile over at him. "It really is." And then he looked faintly hangdog. "I'm sorry I didn't say, in the winter, when he first visited. Aunt Jing made me promise not to."

Yujin waved that off, scoffing. "Don't worry so much; of course you kept quiet if she asked." He did give Jingrui a long, searching look as they turned onto the path to the river, though. "That's why you've been thinking about returning to the military, though, isn't it?" He'd wondered about that, a little. He knew Jingrui had stayed in contact with some of his men, even once their year-long obligation was up, and he'd been watching the capital patrols with a more and more considering look in his eye all winter.

Jingrui smiled down at his horse's neck. "A little." They reined in at the edge of the clearing by the river's wide bend and dismounted as one. They'd always moved together, like that, but Yujin was starting to wonder how much longer they could do so. His own military experiences, so far, had left him ambivalent, aware he could likely be a good commander but sickened by the waste of every fight, and furious that some ambitious fool's failure of thought had made it necessary. Though he admitted he'd felt somewhat less of that under Lin Shu's direction, on the north border.

"Everything I've heard says he'll never take the field again," he said to his saddle, loosening the reins so his horse could drink from the river. "You would never be under his command again."

"Not in the field," Jingrui agreed. "But... well, it's Lin Shu ge-ge. If he's back, then..."

Yujin couldn't help the grin that tugged at his mouth. "Then he'll be the one in charge anyway." Only Prince Jing had ever really been able to stand firm against Lin Shu's impatient assumption of command, and the Crown Prince certainly wasn't going to be refusing any military distribution the brilliant Vice-Marshal of Chiyan might advise. Not after the battle at the northern border had demonstrated so conclusively that Lin Shu had lost none of his tactical brilliance. Yujin pulled his horse gently back from the water and tied it so he could walk around to join Jingrui at the water's edge. "You're sure, then?" he asked, quietly.

"I think so." Jingrui gave him a bright, open smile, elbowing him lightly. "So, what about you?"

Very few of Yujin's reservations had ever held up in face of Jingrui's smile. Not when they were little and stealing sweets off Aunt Jing's table (with her amused connivance, Yujin had realized years later); not when they were a little older and Jingrui had dragged Yujin everywhere after their glamorous, if also sometimes alarming, older cousins; not when they'd come of age and Jingrui hauled Yujin out onto the roads to wander the country with that very same smile. He could barely imagine leaving Jingrui's side, at this point. So there was really nothing else to do but elbow him back until they managed to shove each other into the shallows, laughing.

In the end, it was Meng Zhi's still-pressing need for commanders he could trust without question that quashed the last of Yujin's reservations. Because he could see the uncertainty, at every gathering he attended, hanging in the air like smoke—the doubt in the eyes of nobles and ministers alike, whenever they looked sidelong at the Imperial Guard, or even the City Guard. He'd learned young how dangerous that kind of doubt and fear could be, and had no intention of letting his loved ones live in that kind of capital again, if he could do anything to help it.

"You're sure you won't mind?" he asked his father, a little hesitantly, as they sat together over wine in the evening. "I know our family is a scholarly one, it's just... I feel as though I could do something, there."

His father's mouth quirked faintly under his mustache. "If I'd minded you taking up martial pursuits, I'd have needed to do something about it a long time ago."

That was not, Yujin had to observe, actually a 'no', and he chewed on his lip behind his cup.

This time his father laughed, quietly. "It's fine, Yujin. You did well, dealing with both politics and battle two years ago, and you obviously already know how to listen for what's not said." He settled back a little on his cushion though his eyes were still sharp and thoughtful, resting on Yujin. "The Imperial Guard isn't a bad place from which to watch the workings of the court and the ministries. I doubt that's what Jingrui needs or will find in it, but for you... well, go and see."

Something in Yujin relaxed, hearing that, something deeper than his concern for his father's approval, the hot thread of outrage that curled tight every time he saw yet another thing about the capital that was still broken in the aftermath of the princes' fight for the throne. "It just... it makes me so angry, sometimes, to see what always seems to lead up to an actual battle," he admitted, looking down.

"What, stupidity?" his father asked, blandly, taking a sip of his wine. He smiled a little at the sputter of laughter Yujin couldn't hold back. "That's why I'm not worried, boy. You're true blood of the Yan lineage. You'll never be content to fix the results when you could be laying hands on the cause."

Yujin took a deep breath, feeling the words settle into his heart and ring true, there. "Yes," he agreed, softly. And then he had to sigh a little, as his heart did a prompt and familiar about-face and tugged in the other direction. "Jingrui..."

"Jingrui has to follow his own path." His father softened the flat statement by laying a hand on Yujin's shoulder, and added, "That doesn't mean your paths can't go in the same direction, if you both choose."

Yujin paused, suddenly remembering the handful of times he'd heard his father refer to 'Lin Xie da-ge' in his hearing, always with affection and fierce loyalty, and nodded slowly. "I'll remember, Father." He still didn't like the thought of not being right at Jingrui's side, but... perhaps it truly would be enough to travel the same way, if not quite the same road.

He would hope so.

And for now, at least, they could go together. He didn't have to try to explain another road to Jingrui, yet. He would hold tight to that, while he could.

Li Gang stepped past the house servant who'd shown him through to the Chief's rooms, here in Prince Jing's city manor, and gave the Chief a quick look up and down. He looked far less like a man trying to outrun a slowly festering gut wound, these days. He also snorted as Gang and Zhen Ping bowed.

"I'm fine, yes, and don't try to tell me you haven't been in communication with our members in the Imperial Guard, to get reports on me, all this time."

Gang exchanged rueful looks with Zhen Ping, and didn't try to deny it. "You called for us, Chief," he said, instead.

"Mm." The Chief jotted a note on the lists spread over his writing table, and said, in the thoughtful tone that meant he was saying more than it sounded like, "Neither of you have accepted reinstatement, yet."

This time, the look Gang traded with Zhen Ping was wary. "It didn't feel right, without you in command." He could hear the faint edge of entreaty in his own voice, and didn't try to stifle it, because if the Chief was about to give the orders it sounded like he was thinking of...

The Chief looked up, eyes steady on them. "You had a chance to see a bit of how Xiao Jingrui and Yan Yujin commanded, at the north border. What did you think?"

Gang blinked a little, but he was used to not being able to follow the Chief's quicksilver turns of thought. He settled back and considered. "They're both strong warriors, and not afraid to lead from the front. They're not as good, yet, at keeping a whole unit's position in mind, when they're fighting, but I thought they both had potential, as commanders."

"Yujin is better at strategy than Jingrui," Zhen Ping put in. "At least right now. Yujin thinks more. But Jingrui..." He raised a brow at Gang and Gang nodded agreement.

"Jingrui has stronger command presence, with the men."

"It's not that Yujin doesn't have it," Zhen Ping added, "but he doesn't throw it out into the world, as Jingrui does. In time, the men would follow Yujin, with a good will, because they'd know he'd make wise choices. But they'll follow Jingrui right now, because he calls on their hearts."

"Romantic," Gang accused, under his breath.

"Not like you don't agree," Zhen Ping muttered back.

From the smile the Chief was stifling, he'd heard that.

"There is one thing, about Yujin, though," Zhen Ping said, slowly. "I noticed it at Jiu An. Most of the time, in the field, he's a thinker. But he has a streak of savagery in him, when he's protecting something. That day, with his father, and then Gong Yu, behind him... he never took a single step back toward those stairs. Not one."

Gang's brows rose; that had been a close, bloody fight, from everything he'd heard. For someone who'd never experienced a battlefield before to hold his ground so hard... yes, 'savage' was a good word for it. That could be a helpful tool, in the field, but it could also get a lot of people killed. "It would almost be ideal for them to be co-commanders, then, wouldn't it?" he mused.

A faint huff of laughter escaped the Chief. "Except for the part where Jingrui is one of those things Yujin would defend to the death," he pointed out, dryly. "But what is it in Jingrui that makes you think so?"

Gang settled himself more firmly into the familiar flow of reporting to the Chief, focused on question and answer, and never mind the side-tracks the Chief himself might dart down. All Gang had to do was answer the questions as they came. "He's protective enough, but he doesn't fight to protect, and he doesn't get lost in that urge. He fights for his ideals. What he wants is to help."

"Hmm." The Chief settled back in his chair with a distant look in his eye. "Help whom?" he murmured.

"His friends. His people. His nation." Gang thought for a moment, about what he'd seen of the young man, at the north border. "The nation, that part is still unformed. He's not very fond of the government, and who can blame him? But, having traveled as much as he has, he's seen a lot of the people. His men kept mentioning that he recognized where a lot of their homes were. He values the wellbeing of those people he met."

The Chief was smiling. "Yes. For a young man who never had the slightest ambition for the scholar's way, Jingrui does a fine job of embodying righteousness and benevolence."

"He still assumes those in others a little too much, but," Gang shrugged, "that's what makes the men respond to him, too. At the north border, he fell very easily in with the brotherhood of soldiers. He just needs to learn not to trust everything reported to him."

"So Jingrui will be well, with a little more seasoning and a commander he believes in," the Chief mused. "And Yujin will need someone to watch his back." He straightened and looked directly at them again, tone slipping out of thought and into command. "Jingrui and Yujin are both considering entering the Imperial Guard, this season. I need some experienced officers under them, to keep an eye on them. Zhen Ping, you'll go to Yujin. Li Gang, you will go to Jingrui."

"Chief..." Gang half-protested, looking at Zhen Ping for support.

"If we're reinstated, that isn't something we can go back from easily," Zhen Ping agreed, just as anxious as Gang felt.

"Nor is the Palace somewhere I can easily return from, any more," the Chief said quietly.

That halted them both, and Gang turned this new charge around, in his head. If the Chief was part of the Palace, now, and they returned into the Jin army, they'd be closer to hand than anyone but the Palace eunuchs could get.

And Gang didn't really want to become a Palace official, at his time of life.

Relief spread, warm, through his chest, and he bowed, Zhen Ping a second behind him. "Yes, Chief."

"Tomorrow, then." The Chief gave them a sharp nod that was so very much their Vice-Marshal's gesture, Gang had to brace himself against the spike of nostalgia, so intense it was nearly pain, like hot blood rushing back into a long-deadened limb.

He'd been with the Chief long enough, he didn't think for one second that it was accidental.

"So, we're going back," Zhen Ping murmured, as they stepped out into the slanting, early evening sunlight.

"With yet more of the family, to look after," Gang agreed, a little ruefully.

"At least they can't possibly be as much trouble as the Vice-Marshal and the Prince were." Zhen Ping sounded hopeful, but Gang winced a little.

"Don't tempt fate."

Zhen Ping laughed, quietly. "All right, but at least the capital barracks are supposed to be better than the border cities."

Gang finally smiled. "Now that, I'll drink to."

Following a Path

It didn't actually take Yujin long to settle in to his new work. From his point of view, not a great deal changed.

There was training and drill, but that had always been true, especially once Dong jie-jie had started taking his training seriously. There were suddenly a lot more people he was responsible for, but he'd been the one looking after the Yan household for a long time, and just like he had the steward and housekeeper at home, he had sergeants to help with his battalion.

(The first day he'd met his unit, and watched the man he still thought of as Mei Changsu's personal swordmaster step forward, with a professionally blank face, to hand over the tally of his men, he'd been startled enough to ask, "What, really?"

"You're his family, Commander," Zhen Ping had said, under his breath but apparently quite calm. "Of course he wants to make sure you're taken care of."

Yujin hadn't quite had the nerve to protest, at the time, and he had to admit that Zhen Ping was very helpful.)

And he and Jingrui were both currently assigned to the bulk of the Jin army garrisoned outside the Palace itself. So, really, Yujin was feeling a great deal like this was an extension of his travels with Jingrui, except that both of them actually went home at night.

It was possible that their 'business as usual' approach was not endearing them to their superior, though.

"You want to do what, now?" Sun Wen, the Vice-Commander they both reported to squinted at them like he might be getting a headache.

"A mock battle," Jingrui repeated, brightly. "It'll keep everyone from getting too bored and losing their edge."

"They like being bored," Sun Wen pointed out, a bit dryly. "The alternative to bored is called 'battle'. And, frankly, we want hundreds of soldiers all crammed together to have less of an edge to them than a couple of hot-blooded young warriors used to gallivanting around as they please. Just for example."

That was definitely to their address, and Yujin stepped in to deflect it with a hopeful smile. "Varying the way they train will keep their skills sharper, won't it?"

"Which is exactly why we have several mock battles a year, out on the plains, about which you'll be informed in good time." Sun Wen picked up the report he'd put down when they entered.

"This would be indoors, though." Jingrui leaned forward, earnestly. "Won't that be good training for our Palace rotation?"

"Indoors?" Sun Wen looked up at them, brows arched incredulously. "Where, exactly, do you think we have space for two battalions to go at each other indoors?"

"The old Zhang manor, in the west-central district," Yujin supplied promptly. "Old Man Zhang's daughter has been trying to convince him to have it knocked down and rebuilt for years. If the army rents it for a while, then he's happy because it isn't getting knocked down yet and she's happy because they'll be getting more money to eventually rebuild it, and we get an interior practice area that's almost as complex as some of the Palace."

"So everyone's happy, hm?" Sun Wen eyed the two of them, and Yujin gave him his very best reassuring smile. Sun snorted. "All right, you seem to be reasonably organized about this; you can try it once. But if there are too many injuries out of this, and the physicians come after you, I'm going to leave you to their mercies. Just keep that in mind."

Yujin immediately thought of Aunt Jing's scoldings and quailed. From the look of trepidation on Jingrui's face, he was remembering exactly the same thing. "Yes, sir," Jingrui hastened to assure the Vice-Commander. "We'll make sure everyone is careful."

"Do so." Sun Wen nodded dismissal in answer to their bows, and picked up his reports again. And if he was shaking his head as Yujin left on Jingrui's heels, well, at least they'd gotten permission to convince him.

Yujin grinned at Jingrui as they clattered down the steps to Wen's office, and Jingrui grinned back, and they clapped each other on the shoulders, laughing. This should be fun. Also productive, of course, because that's what they were here for, after all, but it was very gratifying to find that he could still combine the two, now and then.

Perhaps he could find uses for more than his martial skills around here, after all. The thought made him relax under Jingrui's hand, smiling.

Zhen Ping crept through tall, dry weeds beside a weathered breezeway, after his Commander, and had to hold back a smile. He'd wondered, a little, how much of Yan Yujin's determined pleasure in life would survive something like Jiu An, especially once Yujin took a military post. But his Commander's eyes were bright, and he grinned as he watched their forward scouts sneak up to the tattered doors of the next hall and signaled Ping for two more squads to follow them. That cheer seemed to ripple out through the men who caught a glimpse of him, like a gust of wind through grass.

Ping observed that, and thought about the fact that Yujin did seem to have a good instinct for the morale of his men, and finally asked the question that had been nagging at him. "So, for this exercise, we're supposed to be rescuing a Minister from kidnappers who are holding him in his Palace offices, aren't we?"

"Exactly," Yujin agreed, and added thoughtfully, "It's really too bad we can't use the actual offices, but I suppose that would be too much disruption."

Ping took a moment to offer silent and fervent thanks that his Commander hadn't suggested that plan to Vice-Commander Sun. Sun Wen had been recalled from retirement to fill one of the two posts left empty (again) after the executions that had followed Prince Yu's rebellion. He didn't have a reputation as a harsh man, but the whole Jin army knew that his patience had a definite limit, after how briskly he'd restored order among his battalion Commanders. Thinking on the Vice-Commander's potential lack of amusement with them, Ping was a little cautious when he asked the next question. "If that's so, sir, then why do I keep hearing Commander Xiao's men yelling about having spotted the kidnappers?"

"Because their objective is to defend a Minister against the attack of kidnappers who have penetrated the Palace offices," Yujin said, quite calmly, eyes on the progress of the men clearing the hall ahead.

Ping had been afraid that was going to be the answer. "Sir," he started, searching for a respectful way to put this, "isn't that a little too..."

"Realistic?" Yujin's smile was crooked, now.

Ping had been thinking 'cynical' and still was, but 'realistic' also worked. "Yes, sir."

"That's the all clear sign," Yujin said, instead of answering. "Come on."

Ping ran forward on his heels, keeping a sharp eye out for anywhere around the dilapidated court that bowmen might be hidden. Li Gang believed quite devoutly in extra precautions, and Xiao Jingrui turned out to have a good eye for crossfire positions, as they'd already found out once. Over fifty men had had to retire, grumbling, with ink-spattered armor showing where they'd been shot.

It wasn't until they were safely under a rear window, with scouts ducking underneath the breezeways to crawl forward again, that Yujin said, quietly, "Jingrui said people fight better if it's for the right reason. And I didn't want any of our men thinking too long about being asked to attack the government." He looked over his shoulder at Ping, eyes steady. "If anyone asks, we thought it would be a good joke, for both sides to actually have the same objective."

Ping couldn't help giving an abbreviated bow to that level expression. "Yes, sir."

He still thought that it was Yujin who had the better strategic sense, but the longer he spent at Yujin's side, the more he heard 'Jingrui wants' or 'Jingrui said'. He was starting to wonder if Yujin ever really did anything on his own account or for his own sake, or if, perhaps, someone should suggest the idea to him.

And then one of the scouts popped out of the long weeds, signaling back that they'd found an opening, and Yujin lit up, laughing. "We've got them!" He bounced up onto his toes and dashed forward.

Or perhaps, Ping reflected, ruefully, as he sprinted after his Commander, he'd better save his worrying for keeping his charge in one piece right now, and let the future take care of itself.

Yujin loved sparring with Jingrui. Jingrui's sword form was beautiful, full of clean, sharp turns that swept aside any weakness in defense, meeting his blade only to spin aside and suddenly return from another angle. Yujin was, justifiably he thought, proud of the demonstrated effectiveness of his own style, but sparring with Jingrui was like playing a line of music.

Of course, all that sleek economy of motion and momentum did tend to mean that he often got worn down before Jingrui did, when they fought with swords.

"Ha!" Jingrui's eyes were bright as the line of his sword settled delicately against Yujin's neck. "Finally got you!"

"What 'finally'?!" Yujin demanded, laughing and out of breath, as cheers and groans broke out from their spectators around the drill field. "You think you shouldn't have to work for your win?" He tossed his sword back to his off hand and elbowed Jingrui as Jingrui flung an arm around his neck.

"Should I have to work, against you?" Jingrui teased, leaning against him until Yujin rolled his eyes and shifted his weight to dump him off, one of the most useful moves Dong jie-jie had ever taught him. Jingrui stepped through, graceful as ever, to catch his balance, laughing.

"Time to give someone else a chance, you two," one of the onlookers called out, and Yujin looked up to see Wan Fa, the Commander who'd been shifted over to take Jin's Second battalion while Yujin took over the Fourth from him. A little murmur of anticipation ran through the noise of bets changing hands, around them, enough to make Yujin nod to himself.

The battalion hadn't been in bad shape, when Yujin took it, not the way Jingrui's had been, with their previous Commander dismissed from service, the company captains anxious or wincing, and the sergeants uniformly grim. But Yujin was used to listening for what wasn't said, and that wasn't only useful in keeping a party going cheerfully. He'd watched his men watching him, seen how his captains' shoulders eased down when he'd called them in, that first month, and asked about the distribution of men and equipment across each company, whether anyone needed him to go argue for extra from the Logistics Bureau or needed to be on light duty while they got new men trained up.

The battalion hadn't been in bad shape, but it hadn't been well cared for. It had made Yujin think of what Yan Manor might have been like, without him, for the years his father had had his mind on other things. And that made him smile at Wan Fa with just a bit more teeth than usual, and say cheerfully, "I was thinking of a round unarmed. You interested?"

Jingrui's brows rose for just a moment, because normally an unarmed match was Yujin's chance to get his own back, if he'd lost with swords, but one look at Yujin's smile made Jingrui clap him on the shoulder and agree, brightly, "I wanted to steal Zhen Ping for a little, anyway!"

They exchanged a quick, complicit grin and Jingrui faded back into the onlookers, positively smirking. Yujin sheathed his sword and stepped back out, re-settling himself, waiting for Wan Fa to come at him.

As he'd more than half expected, Wan Fa had no problem with making the first move, and a showy move at that, a broad, circling strike at Yujin's ribs. Yujin's smile thinned, and he shifted for a high, sweeping kick, arm snaking out to lock Wan Fa's against his side as it came in. Wan Fa didn't quite yelp, but his expression looked like he wanted to as he twisted under the kick, only barely pulling free enough to keep from breaking his own arm in the process.

Mostly because Yujin let him.

Wan Fa was glaring when he came in again, this time with a more focused chest strike. Yujin flipped back out of range, easy and springy, and then, to bait him more firmly, flipped up over Wan Fa's head. The 'just swallowed a bug' expression on the man's face as he spun around nearly made Yujin laugh. He knew a lot of people looked at his stocky build and assumed his form would be thin on aerial maneuvers, grounded and strength-based.

And it wasn't as if they were entirely wrong, after all.

Yujin stood his ground as Wan Fa spun into a series of high, scything kicks. He bent back from one, blocked the next cleanly, and then he was far enough inside to wheel on his own center and land a brutal double punch that threw Wan Fa back to the circle of spectators to land in a gasping heap. Yujin came back to a neutral finishing stance, and gave his collapsed opponent a bow and a sunny smile, and whoops went up all around. Yujin laughed and went to give Wan Fa a hand up, as comradely as could be. He wanted to shake the man up, after all, not actually alienate him.

"Dong jie-jie would have twisted your ear off for that flip," Jingrui told him, grinning, as Yujin joined him at the edge of the circle.

"Dong jie-jie isn't here, or I wouldn't have done it." Yujin jostled through the press of men, as they broke up to return to drills, and grabbed a dipper of water. He turned a little, as he drank, casting a quick eye over the training ground, listening for the tone of it the way he'd listen to the tone of a social gathering. The men of his battalion, and for that matter of Jingrui's, were mostly grinning, smug. The few who wore darker expressions were still satisfied, just with a far harder edge of pride in it—he'd already marked most of them as soldiers who'd been at Jiu An, and he added the ones he hadn't known of yet to his mental tally. In turn, Wan Fa's men elbowed each other and rolled their eyes, some exasperated but most only rueful. That was a good sign. He'd ask Zhen Ping to check on that battalion, and make sure their morale (and supplies) really were being kept up reasonably, but it didn't look like more energetic measures would be needed.

"Yujin?" Jingrui asked, softly, stepping closer and turning a little to watch behind him. "What is it?"

"Nothing right now," Yujin murmured, leaning against his shoulder for a moment, warmed by how easily Jingrui still guarded his back. "Just keeping an eye on things." He grinned up at Jingrui. "Ready to go look commanding, Commander Xiao, and make sure your men are doing their drills properly?"

Jingrui drew himself up, managing to look dignified despite the way his eyes were dancing. "Always, Commander Yan."

Yujin gave him a mocking bow, and laughed as Jingrui pulled him along across the training field.

Nothing was wrong right now, and that was why he'd keep an eye out. Yujin didn't intend to be caught in the crossfire of politics and poor choices twice, and he especially didn't intend to let Jingrui be caught, no matter how much of an uphill battle that had always been, against Jingrui's lack of self-preservation.

Jingrui looked up with a satisfied smile as the last of his company captains filed in, and waved the letter with their new orders between his fingers. "Get everything polished up, this week; we're on rotation at that Palace starting next week!"

"Really?" He Niu sounded shocked, and the rest of them were exchanging equally startled looks, some pleased, some alarmed, but all about equally taken aback by the news. Jingrui shook his head at them.

"It's our turn, in the schedule; there's no reason to think we wouldn't be. You can't be held to blame for obeying your commander," he said firmly. Again. He felt a bit like he'd been repeating some variation on this at least once a week for months, now. And it wasn't as though Peng had even been clearly in collusion with Jin's late, unlamented Vice-Commanders. Personally, Jingrui thought it likely the man had just been currying favor with whoever presented themselves above him; he'd seen a lot of similar behavior, since he'd come here, and that, at least, he found understandable, if not at all admirable.

What he found less understandable, and wouldn't have believed if he hadn't heard it from Yujin, was the real reason his men never quite seemed to believe him. It still shocked Jingrui down to the core, what the Emperor had almost done to even the surrendered Qing Li soldiers, what had only been averted by the Crown Prince and High Commander's pleas. To hold a servant to blame for following his master's orders... Jingrui knew he'd been only a middling-good student but even he knew that struck against both the codes of law and the roots of civility itself. The limits on a servant's responsibility, or a soldier's, (or a son's) were all that made obedience a virtue and not some form of madness. Jingrui had been fresh from the orderly (if rather voracious) atmosphere of his blood-father's court, when Yujin had told him the story of Jiu An, and the thought that the Emperor, the nation's source of order, would do such a selfish, chaotic thing had chilled him.

At the same time, and much though the Crown Prince should never have had to do it, Jingyan ge-ge's example had heartened him. If he could follow that example, give the men he was responsible for some of their moral certainty back... well, he'd think that worthwhile work. No matter how many times he had to repeat himself.

His captains ducked their heads at the reminder, He Niu with a sheepish expression.

"Yes, Commander. Sorry, sir."

Jingrui smiled at them. "Just make sure the men are ready. The timing of our rotation means we'll be escort for the Fall Hunt; remind everyone. If there are any who are likely to have trouble at Jiu An, let me know and keep an eye on them." He nodded dismissal to their bows of acknowledgment, and only shook his head ruefully once they were all gone.

"They're getting there, sir," Li Gang said quietly, at his shoulder. "Who else is on this rotation with us?"

"Yujin's battalion, and Wan Fa's, and the First and Third too."

Li Gang snorted a little with amusement. "Everyone Commander Yan has under his wing, then. Probably a good thing."

Jingrui smiled, only a little wryly for the fact that Li Gang was so very right. "Yujin is good at looking after things." He touched the pile of tallies and lists on the side of his writing table. "So, I have the inventory reports, reports from the stables, though I want to double-check those before the Fall Hunt, preliminary patrol schedules for the Palace complex, and I'll be meeting with the other Commanders tomorrow to finalize those..." He looked up at Li Gang with a soft chuckle. "Anything I'm forgetting?"

His sergeant gave him an approving look for asking (he was getting better about that!) and answered, respectfully, "Have you written the City Guard, yet, to arrange the route we'll take to the Palace complex, sir?"

"No," Jingrui sighed, reaching for his brush to jot a note to himself. He was coming to realize, this year, that while he was actually fairly good at command, he was not good at bureaucracy. He was working dutifully, if not exactly enthusiastically, to get better, but he was also starting to have a terrible suspicion that he was going to wind up in Marquis Ning's position some day, buried in reports with a perpetual headache, even if he genuinely managed to avoid politics. He couldn't see any way around it, not if he wanted to actually have enough rank to do some good for the nation his greater clan ruled.

On the other hand, at least Yujin would be with him, and Yujin was very good at this side of things. Jingrui added the first character of Yujin's name to his note, and smiled.

They'd manage together, the way they always had everything. He honestly couldn't imagine it being any other way.

Duty at the Palace complex was a prized and prestigious one. People actually competed for it. There were even rumors people had killed for it, if the High Commander wasn't careful to maintain even rotations of the duty.

Yujin was incredibly bored by it.

He did, actually, understand Vice-Commander Sun's point that boredom was desirable, especially here. But Palace duty involved a great deal of doing nothing. The Imperial Guard detachment stood rigidly in place at their posts. They escorted palace officials on their very brief trips out into the city, to act as the Emperor's voice, or, more commonly these days, as the Crown Prince's voice. They patrolled the Palace complex, keeping a careful eye out for any untoward behavior, of which there had not been any, lately.

And Yujin spent most of his time in the Imperial Guard's offices, writing up duty rosters and patrol patterns without even being able to get out to walk many of the patrols. He'd started debriefing the on-call troops who rode out escorting palace officials, just to have something mildly interesting to do. He'd pulled out all the detailed and confidential maps of the Palace complex their offices contained and baited Jingrui and Wan Fa and Xu Jian and Yuan Kang with the housekeeper's best snacks until they all sat down and drew up freshly optimized patrol routes to submit to the High Commander. He was actually looking forward to the Fall Hunt. He was also starting to understand why the Palace guard detachment trained so very vigorously; it was probably so they didn't die of boredom.

Or, in Jingrui's case, because Meng Zhi was around to train with.

Yujin couldn't help smiling at the delighted grin Jingrui wore as he spun just a breath past Meng's kick, palm driving hard toward Meng's ribs. Not that he connected, but Jingrui looked pleased to have come as close as he had. Jingrui really was adorable, when he was around someone who could teach him. Yujin had thought, more than once, that Zhuo Qingyao was a lot of the reason Jingrui had thrown himself so wholeheartedly into being a son of Tianquan Manor, all those years. Jingrui made a good enough big brother, responsible and kind, but he was a lot better at being a little brother.

"Good afternoon, Commander Yan."

Case in point, Yujin thought, a little wryly, turning to bow to the man who'd come up quietly to stand beside him. "And to you, Vice-Marshal Lin."

Lin Shu chuckled softly at their formalities, folding his arms and joining Yujin in watching Jingrui and Meng separate and then close again, twice as fast as before, both of them grinning. "This is my first chance to see how the two of you are getting on," he murmured. "Jingrui looks to be enjoying himself."

Yujin had to give him a long look, at that, brows raised. "Have Zhen Ping and Li Gang been forgetting to send all their reports? That doesn't seem like them."

His cousin's mouth crimped up at the corners. "My first chance to see for myself," he specified. "They've only kept me generally informed. It's not quite the same." He glanced sidelong at Yujin, smiling. "So, how have you been? Keeping busy?"

Reminded, Yujin made a face and grumbled, "Not very. I'm wondering if the request process over in Logistics and Supply can be streamlined, actually."

Lin Shu made a sound that may have started life as a snort of laughter. "Is there a particular reason you're contemplating take-over of a bureau?"

Yujin sighed. Yes, he'd been afraid that was what it would probably take. "It's not that there are any particular delays, yet, it's just that I was looking at the timing of fulfillment so I could write up the next few months in advance, since I had the time..." He paused, blinking, because Lin Shu had dissolved into helpless laughter.

"Ah." His cousin finally straightened up again. "All right, now I see why Meng da-ge asked me to come speak to you."

Yujin started a little at that. The High Commander had? He glanced up at the practice area where Meng was throwing Jingrui's kick briskly back off crossed arms. It wasn't like he didn't have plenty of opportunities to speak, himself, now Yujin and Jingrui were on Palace duty. A hand closed on his shoulder and shook him gently, and he looked back to see his cousin smiling.

"What he actually said," Lin Shu told him, still amused, "was 'he's getting almost as bad as you used to be, in camp'."

Yujin's eyes widened, and he felt quick heat in his cheeks. Chiyan's brilliant Vice-Marshal was one person he'd never thought to be compared to, even in exasperation.

Lin Shu patted his shoulder and let him go. "You think too much, for ceremonial duty, is all. It's not a bad thing." His mouth quirked up again. "Unless it leads you to start taking over the Ministry of War, one bureau at a time. Save that for when you're a little older."

That was not helping Yujin stop blushing. "Shu-xiong," he protested. "I'm not going to..."

His cousin's eyes sharpened, and he held up a hand, cutting Yujin off. "Yujin, we both know you won't let Jingrui go down this path alone or unguarded."

After a moment, Yujin nodded slowly, mouth a little tight. He wasn't exactly surprised that Lin Shu had seen that particular motive, but he still didn't like having it said out loud. Lin Shu's expression softened a bit. "Don't worry too much, yet. Jingyan and I are watching. We'll make sure nothing happens."

All in a rush, Yujin remembered the warm, easy comfort he'd felt when he was younger, before the Chiyan case, before his first priority had become being able to pull Jingrui back from the capital's political bear-traps. He'd been sure, back then, that nothing too very bad could ever happen, because his cousins would watch over them—Prince Qi, kind and patient, Prince Jing, so strong and steadfast, Lin Shu, bright and fierce. And had Lin Shu not still watched over him, even after it all? He had to swallow hard, blinking back those memories and the echo of them in his cousin's quiet assurance. His voice was a little husky when he answered, "Yes, Shu ge-ge."

For a moment, he thought Lin Shu might ruffle his hair, the way he had back then. Thankfully, given they were surrounded by half of Yujin's battalion, his cousin only smiled and turned to look back at Jingrui and Meng's match, which had now moved on to swords. "For now... hm. Perhaps I'll ask Meng da-ge to let the Guard escort ministers around the city, again, as well as the palace officials."

Yujin perked up at that. That would surely make for far more interesting gossip that he could get. "Did we used to?"

"Before the ministries got so enmeshed in the fight for the throne, yes. Now that there's less danger of the Guard getting pulled in after the ministers, I think it would benefit everyone to take that duty back off the household guards. I'll suggest it." Lin Shu winced at the next step Jingrui took, which was apparently an over-extension, because in the next moment his blade went clattering aside and Meng was at his back with his own sword across Jingrui's throat. Jingrui shook his head ruefully as Meng let him go, but Meng just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"That was better than last time! Try it again." He backed up, beckoning, and Jingrui's smile turned brilliant as he scooped up his sword again and flowed into a low stance.

Lin Shu smiled, wry but not quite as bitter as Yujin thought it would have been two years ago. "I'll suggest it later," he corrected himself.

Yujin couldn't help laughing.

It was a little strange, for Jingrui, to return to Jiu An as a commander of the soldiers who guarded the Emperor and his retinue, after so many years as part of that retinue. Everything was brushed with newness and unfamiliarity, seen from this new angle. The mountain and its forests were still wild and full of life, but hunting the wild creatures was not his focus. The fortress itself was still airy, its long halls gracefully shadowed, but he was in a new wing of it, with new shadows.

Some of them in the eyes of the men around him.

It put a little chill down Jingrui's own spine, to see the bright newness of the gates, set in the middle of the old, scored walls, but some of the men stepped through that new gate into the plaza on the other side and shuddered.

Yujin was one of them.

Jingrui knew he'd been hovering a bit, since they got here. A Yujin who wasn't smiling or frowning or pacing, always expressive and in motion, a Yujin who paused so still he might not be breathing and wore no expression at all for a handful of heartbeats before turning with a smile harder than it was bright, was a Yujin who worried him a little.

And apparently hovering had actually worked, because Yujin had just rolled his eyes and taken Jingrui's hand to slap a stack of reports into it, and told him, in a tone of rare exasperation, to go fill in the rest of the injuries log, if he didn't have anything else to do. That had been more of the usual Yujin than Jingrui had seen since they'd arrived, complete with deeply expressive eye rolling. Jingrui smiled as he scanned down the list of men who'd been involved in Tingsheng's little mishap with a yearling boar. There was someone who'd gotten a wrenched shoulder when his horse threw him, Jingrui was sure, but who had it been?

He almost rolled his eyes at himself when he remembered; it had been one of Wan Fa's men. He was getting as bad as Yujin about casually counting them in among his own.

On the other hand, if they wanted complete accounts, which Yujin clearly did, then he should get the man's name anyway. Jingrui laid down his brush and crossed the small courtyard of their wing to the rooms Wan Fa had taken, rapping lightly on the open screens as he stepped in. "Wan Fa, can I get the name of the man who was injured in that little scuffle with the boar, the other day?"

His fellow Commander looked up from his own paperwork with a snort. "Yan has infected you, too, has he?"

Jingrui couldn't help laughing. "Always, sooner or later."

And clearly Wan Fa wasn't that annoyed, because he got up from his writing table willingly enough and opened up a chest to one side. "Just a minute, then."

Jingrui waited politely while Wan Fa dug out what looked like the list of his whole command, though he couldn't help raising a brow at the fact that Wan Fa apparently didn't have any more concise reports of the incident handy. Possibly it was a good thing Wan Fa had his back turned. Jingrui glanced over his writing table, a little curious to see what he was doing, if not writing up the reports he really should have ready. A familiar hand caught his eye, on the top of a letter sticking out from underneath a few other reports. Had Yujin been sending notes over already? Alright, perhaps Jingrui could understand a little huffing, if so...

A chill uncurled down his spine, though, as the realization settled into his mind: Jingrui recognized it, but that wasn't Yujin's writing.

It was his sister's.

Yuwen Nian wrote to him often, and he replied as often and kindly as he could, knowing she was still disappointed that he had not stayed in his blood-father's court long enough to escort her wedding journey north. Knowing how impetuous she could be, he could well believe she might have written to any Da Liang officer she knew to be in contact with him for more news. What he couldn't image was why any officer of Da Liang would keep or reply to a letter from the highest ranking Princess of what was, after all, an enemy state.

He stole a quick look at Wan Fa, who was muttering under his breath as he wound through his long scroll, and set his fingertips on the letter, inching it out from under the reports it lay under until he could slide it into his sleeve.

"Ah! That was it, it was Lu Qiang." Wan Fa turned and caught up his brush to jot down the characters on a bit of clear report paper and tore the strip neatly off to hand to Jingrui. "Was that all?"

"Yes," Jingrui said, as calmly as he could, taking the slip. "Thank you." He sketched a short parting bow and made for his own rooms with a quick stride. He hoped this would turn out to be nothing but one of his sister's headstrong whims, the letter one that Wan Fa simply hadn't had a moment to burn, yet.

He really hoped.

Yujin was just putting away his sword, after cleaning, when Jingrui burst into his rooms, so abruptly that Yujin nearly drew on him. "Jingrui, what...?"

"Yujin," Jingrui interrupted, only to stop short, looking over his shoulder. "Not here. Come on." He seized Yujin's arm and more or less dragged him out and down the interior passage.

"Jingrui!" Yujin tugged loose once he'd managed to catch up, frowning at the set look on Jingrui's face. "What's wrong?"

Jingrui's jaw tightened. "Not here," he repeated, and didn't say another word until he'd led them back into one of the unused inner halls. Once there, where, Yujin couldn't help noticing, the doors and screens he'd left open in their wake gave them very clear line of sight in all directions, he thumped down onto the hall's veranda and put his head in his hands.

"...Jingrui?" Yujin settled slowly beside him, watching him closely. "What happened?"

Jingrui didn't look up, but he did fish a letter out of his sleeve and hold it out. "This. Read this."

Yujin frowned, quickly turning over, in the back of his mind, the tally of who might have news that could make Jingrui look like this. When he saw the letter was addressed to Wan Fa, not Jingrui, he just blinked. "What...?"

"Read it," Jingrui insisted, and the flatness of his voice made Yujin settle back and unfold the letter.

My thanks, once again, for your news of my honored brother, Commander Wan. It has been a great comfort to know he is well!

Yujin put down the letter and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "She didn't really."

"She really did," Jingrui sighed. "I'm sure she didn't mean any harm at all, she just doesn't think things through sometimes."

Yujin found that a little rich, coming from Jingrui. Though Jingrui had been getting better. Maybe it just ran in the family? He stifled a groan over how much coaxing was likely going to be required to get Nian to stop this—especially when she could, with at least a small amount of justice, insist that she was betrothed to an Imperial prince and could write to Imperial officers if she wanted to—and glanced down the rest of the letter. He froze when his eyes got to the last fold.

"Yes," Jingrui said, tone suddenly flat and grim again. "That part."

The last bit was written in a different hand, smaller, as if it had been added as an afterthought. Or, more likely, without the Princess' knowledge.

We always welcome news from you, and you rise higher in my cousin's esteem all the time. One hopes that Da Liang values such a perceptive officer as he deserves.

Yuwen Xuan, Prince Ling

Yujin had found out more about the court of Southern Chu, after Jingrui had left to visit there. Their current king, Jingrui's father by blood, was said to have mellowed a little, as he aged, and was currently concentrated on assimilating Chu's recent conquests rather than expanding the borders again, but no one believed that would last long. Many of the younger nobles, Prince Ling vocal among them, were in favor of new forays to bite off land to the north. And now Prince Ling had found a path to communicate with an ambitious officer within the Imperial Guard of Da Liang. He'd most likely been the one to provide the Princess, his cousin, with a way to send secret letters north in the first place, and the one who had, almost certainly, given that phrasing, sent this letter on its way with some token of his own 'esteem'.

In short, the one who was trying to suborn a Commander of the Imperial Guard.

Yujin took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring at the letter. What a mess. "Well, first we need to convince your sister to stop writing to Wan Fa."

Jingrui surged up off the veranda and stalked back and forth across the small garden below it, scowling. "No, the first thing we have to do is report Wan Fa! No matter how foolish Nian-er is being, it's Wan who's passing information to the prince of an enemy nation!"

"We don't know that!" Yujin said, sharply, trying not to think about all the gruesome things Dong-jie had let slip, over the years, about how investigations around the Palace usually went. He would have expected Jingrui to be the one most against risking any such thing. "We don't know that he's done anything more than send news of you, personally."

"Which means Wan is passing on information about a Commander of the Imperial Guard. And probably more that was addressed to Prince Ling separately. You saw what he wrote! Admiring how 'perceptive' Wan is." Jingrui's mouth was tight, and his eyes hard. "And Wan is using my sister to do it, just as much as Yuwen Xuan is."

Yujin bit his lip for a moment. Now Jingrui's anger made sense; he'd become doubly protective of his family ties after losing so many of them. "But Jingrui... if we report this officially, the Emperor will hear of it."

That stopped Jingrui's furious pacing, at least for a few breaths, though his eyes were still dark. "We can just report it to the High Commander, then."

"Who's sworn directly to the Emperor!" Yujin threw up his hands, exasperated. "Do you know what would happen to him as soon as the Emperor got the tiniest hint of him withholding information?"

Jingrui's temper sparked again. "So we'll tell the Crown Prince! You can't tell me he can't keep a secret from the Emperor!"

Yujin made an inarticulate sound of frustration. He knew Jingrui didn't always think things through, and it was clearly a family trait, but he had to know better than that. "Like the Crown Prince taking direct action to discipline a Guard Commander isn't going to be talked about?!"

"We have to do something!"

Frustration pushed Yujin to his feet as well. "If you'll just stop for a minute..."

"No," Jingrui said, harshly, eyes burning, hand sweeping up as if to strike Yujin's words aside. "Not this time!" He started to storm past Yujin, and Yujin reached out to catch his arm, frustration suddenly sharpening into fear, fear that Jingrui would push himself into the Emperor's notice after all, and all the risk of destruction that notice brought with it.

"Jingrui...!"

Jingrui half-turned, sharply, throwing off his hand.

Yujin felt his face turn cold and stiff as blood drained from it, felt his eyes widening, felt his breath stop in his lungs for a long moment as he stood, hand still stretched out toward Jingrui. When he managed to take a breath again, his knees shook, along with the air in his chest, and he stumbled down to the edge of the veranda again. "Jingrui?" This time it was barely a whisper.

At least Jingrui had stopped. At least that.

After a long moment, Jingrui sighed and stepped back toward him. "Sorry. But I can't just stop this time, Yujin; I have to do something."

"All right." His voice was still rough, and all the fear in him had turned over, turned inward, turned sharp and cutting to hear Jingrui say only I. He reached up to catch Jingrui's sleeve, fingers closing white-knuckled in the fabric. "All right, we will, just..." the words pushed out, and he was shaking too much, inside, to stop them, "don't leave."

"I wasn't... I mean, not leaving leaving. You know that." Jingrui took another step closer, frowning down at him a little, puzzled. "Yujin?"

"No, it's fine." Yujin tried to pull himself together, to brush the spike of cold panic off with a smile, but he could feel it waver, unconvincing.

It probably didn't help that he couldn't make himself let go of Jingrui. But Jingrui had left once, even if he'd come back. And he'd been going to leave for the same cause this time, hadn't he? Family, it was always family with them, and this time it had caused Jingrui to show Yujin his back, just like Yujin's father always had, for so long. Shouldn't he be afraid, then? He felt like his thoughts fractured on that question.

"Yujin." Jingrui sat down again, beside him, hand covering his, still fisted in Jingrui's sleeve. The warmth of it cut through the tangle of Yujin's thoughts, and he looked up to see Jingrui looking more concerned than angry. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, really." Yujin felt like this smile was maybe a little more successful. "I'm just... I don't..." It would be better if he could get his words out in order, but he wasn't even sure, himself, what they should be. "I didn't mean to say I wouldn't help." That was better.

Jingrui ducked his head a little, looking penitent. "No, I know. I shouldn't have..." He trailed off, thumb running over Yujin's still-white knuckles, and he was frowning when he looked up. "Yujin?"

Yujin finally managed to force his fingers open, glancing away as he retrieved his hand. Or, at least, tried to. Jingrui's fingers caught his again, half way. "Tell me what it was you were thinking of doing, then," Jingrui said, quietly.

Yujin swallowed to get his heart back down out of his throat, not looking down to see his hand folded with Jingrui's. "Well. If Nian stops writing, then that gets her out of the line of fire, on the Chu end. And Wan Fa will already have had a scare, when he can't find that letter. If we let him know that we'll have to report any further communication, I think that will stop him. Without any of this getting back to the Emperor." He looked back at Jingrui, intent and serious. "Because if the Emperor gets any hint of collusion with an enemy state, we don't know how many he might order executed, and you're right in the middle of it."

Jingrui's eyes widened, and he flushed red. "Yujin." He reached out and pulled Yujin close, hands closing tight in the back of his robes. "I'm sorry. I was an idiot."

Yujin leaned into him, nearly shaking with the sudden release of tension. "Yes," he managed, against Jingrui's shoulder, a little husky. "You are. But that's okay, that's what I'm for."

Jingrui's huff of laughter against his ear, light and teasing, nearly made him melt with relief. "Are you sure? I thought it was for the comic relief."

Yujin elbowed him, finally managing to laugh, himself, and they both sat back, smiling.

That was all he needed, really.

Jingrui had felt like the worst friend imaginable, when he'd finally realized what Yujin's real concern was, and all the more so because Yujin's plan worked. Wan Fa was applying himself strictly to the business of his battalion and had started fading to the back of any gathering that included Jingrui or Yujin with nervous, sidelong glances at them. And perhaps Jingrui's own guilt over his temper was what made him pay a little more attention than usual. He kept remembering the white-knuckled clench of Yujin's hand on his sleeve. For whatever reason, he'd really scared Yujin, and he had no wish to do it again.

The reason had finally clicked, for him, a week after they'd all returned from the Fall Hunt, when he'd stopped by the Yan Manor in the morning, to ride in to the Palace complex together.

Yujin had been coming down the stairs of the inner hall, as Jingrui passed through the first courtyard, and he'd laughed and called, "You're actually out of bed early! Should I mark the date specially?"

Yujin had elevated his nose. "A gentleman maintains moderation in everything. Besides, Father wasn't here for breakfast, today."

There'd been a flicker of darkness in his eyes, and it had come to Jingrui, abruptly, that it was the same darkness he'd seen when Yujin was staring at him, stiff and pale, that day. The same darkness Jingrui had seen Yujin push so determinedly away for years, whenever his father came up. The darkness of an empty house, echoing around them, and nobody in it but them and the servants. That was the moment it had come to him that he'd nearly walked away from Yujin, nearly left him in a literally empty hall, that day.

The worst friend ever.

So he tried to stay closer, for a while, to stop in after drills to ask whether Yujin had taken over any more ministry paperwork, yet; to glance at Yujin's schedule to be extra sure they'd meet in the training yard to spar together; to wrap an arm around Yujin's shoulders when he pulled his friend toward the gates in the evening, to head home (where, more often than not, he'd stay until Marquis Yan also arrived home). And, perhaps because he was paying extra attention, he'd noticed the thread of tension, in Yujin, that seemed to ease every time Jingrui touched him. Noticing that, of course he'd done it more often, let his arm lay there longer, and taken satisfaction in feeling Yujin's shoulders drop just that little bit.

Which had gotten them to today.

A late autumn storm had chased everyone indoors who could go, and after making sure that the men had cleared all the equipment off the drill grounds, Jingrui and Yujin dashed for the Guard offices, though the cold rain, piling inside on each other's heels. Jingrui's arm found its way around Yujin's shoulders out of growing habit, and they leaned against each other, breathless from cold and laughing a little. Yujin wiped rivulets of rain off his face, leaning into Jingrui more firmly for a moment as he tossed back his head, hands sweeping the wetness back over his hair. Jingrui sputtered as a few drops hit him in the face.

"Yujin!"

Yujin grinned up at him, bright and teasing. "Hm? Was there something?"

And Jingrui felt his heart turn over, at the same time his awareness of Yujin's body against his escaped his control and unfurled like eager spring leaves.

"Only the honorable Commander Yan's lack of manners," he shot back automatically, and Yujin's laugh shivered down his nerves, made him tighten his hand on Yujin's shoulder. Yujin leaned back into him, easy and relaxed, and Jingrui had to swallow a little hard.

Probably the only thing that kept him from doing something rather rash right there in the entry room was the pointed clearing of a throat behind him. He and Yujin finally broke apart and stepped further in, to let Li Gang get inside after them. Jingrui gave his sergeant a slightly sheepish smile in return for his dryly raised brows, and the moment passed.

For now.

Jingrui retreated to his writing table to stare at the patrol rosters blankly, thoughts in complete disarray. He'd thought, for years now, that Yujin must not have any interest in men; if he had, well, surely Jingrui would have heard about it, wouldn't he? He'd teased Yujin, often enough, about the time he spent flirting with shop girls and courtesans alike. So he'd turned his thoughts away from the idea of ever having Yujin like that, sunk himself deeper into the oneness of heart, between them, and refrained from touching too much. But the easy way Yujin leaned into him... was Jingrui deceiving himself, that there was acceptance, and maybe even hunger, in it?

The thought lodged itself in the back of his mind with a firmness that said he wasn't going to be able to just ignore it any more.

So perhaps... perhaps he could test it, a little, instead? Carefully, of course, but if he was right, if Yujin did welcome his touch, then just maybe...

Jingrui smiled and picked up the top report, bending over it with a better will than usual.

"This is your fault; you jinxed us."

"I did not!" Zhen Ping looked over his shoulder at where their Commanders had their heads together over a plan for cavalry drill. Yujin had his whole body oriented on Jingrui, and Jingrui was stealing soft little glances at Yujin whenever Yujin wasn't looking. "This is not my fault," he muttered.

"The heavens were listening." Despite this contention, Li Gang held out a flask to him. "Drink?"

"We're on duty," Ping said, not with a great deal of conviction.

On the other side of the Guard offices, Yujin elbowed Jingrui indignantly for whatever he'd just said, and Jingrui threw an arm around his shoulders, laughing, pulling him close for a breath. For the space of that breath, Yujin relaxed against him, grin softening.

Li Gang gave Ping a speaking look and shook the flask invitingly.

Ping accepted it with a sigh, and took a long drink.

For the most part, Yujin was pleased with his life at the moment. Palace duty had ended, and he'd left behind a legacy of reporting procedure for all Guards on escort duty. He was fairly sure Lin Shu had been the one to insist it be continued, which he tried not to blush like a little boy over. The Jin army's field drills, battalion against battalion, had arrived as promised, which was fascinating. Yujin was not a fan of battles, or the idiocy that seemed to lead up to them, but the strategy of maneuver caught his imagination.

Unfortunately, being out in the field, beyond the city, seemed to have revived one of what Yujin personally considered Jingrui's worst habits—waking him up early.

Yujin was not, by nature, an early riser. Jingrui, however, was, and when they traveled, he sometimes decided that Yujin should be as well. Yujin invariably got revenge, one way or another, but apparently it had been too long since he last did, because Jingrui had taken to visiting his tent at ridiculous hours to wake him.

At the first whisper of canvas being pushed aside, Yujin pulled the covers over his head.

"Commander Yan," Jingrui called, light and teasing. "Good morning!"

Yujin made a wordless sound intended to convey that it was not morning, yet.

"Time to get up," Jingrui declared, in defiance of all reason, coming to tweak the covers down.

Yujin yanked them back up by reflex. "Still dark," he mumbled.

"Of course it's dark, with the covers over your head." Jingrui yanked them down again.

Yujin swiped at him without opening his eyes and snatched the covers back, diving under them with a growl.

Jingrui had the gall to laugh. Yujin stayed stubbornly still for as long as he could before admitting that he was actually awake, but eventually he had to give in. He shoved the covers back and glared up at Jingrui. "I will kill you slowly," he declared.

Jingrui positively grinned down at him, eyes sparkling, entirely too awake for not-quite-sunrise. "After breakfast?" he suggested.

"I will poison your food," Yujin threatened, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Once you're awake enough to," Jingrui taunted, and then chuckled as Yujin pushed himself upright. "You're a mess, after fighting with the covers like that."

He ran a hand over Yujin's hair, hopefully smoothing it down a little, and Yujin was still drowsy enough to lean into it. "Mm. Whose fault is that?" He took a breath and blinked himself a little more alert, only to realize that he was still leaning into Jingrui's hand, which had settled along his cheek. "...Jingrui?"

Jingrui colored and drew his hand back. "Sorry. Should I not?" He looked disappointed, Yujin realized, slowly.

Yujin was going to blame the way he caught Jingrui's retreating hand on not being awake, though that wasn't the whole truth by any means. "No, it's fine, I just..."

Yujin had been perfectly aware of the silent apology in Jingrui's increased tendency to touch, to drape an arm over his shoulders, to lean against him. To be honest, he'd been enjoying it very much. But this was different; this was starting to spill over into the kind of thing he'd never expected from Jingrui. At least, not directed at himself.

"I thought it was Lin Shu ge-ge, with you," he finally said, quietly, trying to stifle any urge to hope. "I mean... even when we didn't know it was him..."

Jingrui just blinked at him, sitting back on his heels beside Yujin's bed, hand resting easily in Yujin's grip. "Well, but that's different." Yujin raised both brows, because he remembered very clearly the way Jingrui had always tagged after Lin Shu, with shining eyes, and dragged Yujin along. Jingrui ducked his head a little and added, "It's you I never wanted to be apart from."

The way he smiled, sweet and open, made Yujin's chest squeeze tight, made him breathless with the dawning realization that this wasn't a mistake or the result of wanting so much that he saw what wasn't there. "Oh." He took a breath and reached up, fingers shaking just a little bit, to touch Jingrui's cheek. "Me too."

Jingrui's smile turned brighter at that, so simply and openly happy that it made Yujin forget to breathe for a moment. "I'm glad." Jingrui turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to Yujin's fingers.

Yujin made a small, wordless sound, at that, unable to catch it back, not when everything he'd thought was too much to ask for had fallen suddenly into his lap. Jingrui looked back at him, chewing his lip for a moment, before taking a breath and leaning in. His glance was a little shy, under his lashes, but hopeful, and Yujin was as helpless as he'd ever been to resist that. He leaned forward to meet Jingrui, and the brush of Jingrui's mouth over his made him close his eyes, every sense narrowing down to this touch, this moment.

"Oh," he said, softly, as their lips parted, feeling the reality of it all settle into his heart.

"Yes," Jingrui answered, just as soft.

They sat there, smiling breathlessly at each other as sunrise finally lit the walls of the tent white.

The last exercise, in this year's field drills, set double battalions against each other, as if they were vanguards clashing in the first engagement of a battle. It was the kind of exercise that was, honestly, more to Jingrui's taste than maneuver of huge blocks of soldiers, even if he knew that maneuver was preferable to engagement, if it could be managed. This was practice, though, he told himself virtuously, as he urged his horse to the front of their running line, and he needed more practice converting his sword form to the balance of horseback. And also in not letting himself get too caught up in trying to convert everything.

Or, as Li Gang had succinctly put it, after Jingrui's first few horseback drills, "Less dueling, sir, more hacking."

And, best of all, today he was paired with Yujin again, could see Yujin's quick-footed black coming up beside him, from the corner of his eye, could catch the way Yujin was shaking his head but still grinning.

And then it was time to close his knees tight around his horse, shift his weight forward with the sweep of his sword and the momentum of their gallop, and bash one of the other side's company Captains soundly out of the saddle. It registered, in the back of his head, that with anything but the blunted wood they were given for the drill, it would have been a disemboweling cut, but the thought was distant, subsumed in the urgency of another target in front of him, and then another, the press of horses lunging against and between each other—

—and, abruptly, the awareness that he'd outpaced his own men just a little too much.

He ducked under the jab of a spear from one side while blocking the swing a sword on the other, tried to send his horse forward so he could get space to turn, but he was hemmed in too close. This, the back of his head informed him, was why Li Gang kept looking disapproving of how fast Jingrui went during horseback drills. Jingrui gritted his teeth and heaved against the swordsman on his right side, swung his sword around to strike down another jab from the spear, risked pulling one foot free of the stirrup to kick the swordsman solidly in the hip, and that was one side about to be open...

A completely unorthodox but painfully effective sideways sweep from the spear hit him in the ribs and swept him right out of the saddle. The ground smashed the breath out of him, and for a long moment he could only gasp for air and be grateful that his horse was stepping to the side rather than on top of him. A furious shout rang out above and behind him, and he hauled himself up to his knees just in time to see Yujin sweep past him, cutting down the spearman, and the swordsman behind him, with two brutal strokes, barely a pause between them. Zhen Ping galloped past on Yujin's heels, both swords out, guarding his back as Yujin set his position and two charging soldiers broke against it, one down and the other pulling his horse around to retreat. Jingrui grabbed at his horse's stirrup to pull himself further up, staring. And perhaps he'd banged his head on the way down, but what was floating through his mind right now was something Zhen Ping had said months ago, when they were all still on duty at the Palace.

He'd been teasing Yujin about how Vice-Commander Sun might take his proposed improved patrol routes, and Yujin had been insisting roundly that the logic of them would be obvious to anyone. Jingrui had actually been a little rueful about not being able to see it, himself, before Yujin had explained it, and apparently their sergeants had caught that fact.

"You'll probably start to see it soon, sir," Zhen Ping had said, looking up from the gear he'd been cleaning. "You see it clearly on the smaller scale already, don't you? Where your opponent is likely to step or cut next."

Jingrui had cocked his head, curious. "You think it's the same thing?"

Zhen Ping had smiled a little, wryly. "The Vice-Marshal always said it was, and the way he talked about seeing the movement of a battle... I think he's right. I can't do it with more than a squad, myself, but it really did sound like the same thing."

And now, watching the brief, clear wake Yujin's savage attack left, watching the way the other vanguard was drawing back toward the right like a swordsman shifting his weight, the swift gathering of horses like an arm drawing back to strike, Jingrui did see it. Saw it and saw how it would sweep over Yujin's position, the opening he'd made, and threw himself back up into the saddle, hauling in a deep breath.

"Third Company forward! Now!"

He heard the horn repeat the order, behind him, saw the company to his left start to move, like his own sword sweeping in to meet the opponent's, and kicked his horse forward to join Yujin, ignoring the painful jar of bruises. After all, it was the two of them who were going to be the hand that pushed the opponent back off balance.

Yujin looked around as Jingrui came up beside him, Zhen Ping sliding to the side to let him through, and the set, furious darkness of his expression lightened. Jingrui leaned out to clap a hand on his shoulder. "One more push forward?" he called, and was glad to see Yujin's head come up, turning to take in the field around them, before his friend gave him a firm nod.

Jingrui was grinning as their horses leaped forward again, together this time.

Lin Shu had already gotten reports from both Li Gang and Zhen Ping, so he was unsurprised to hear Vice-Commander Sun's voice raised, as he approached Meng da-ge's offices.

"...never putting them on the same side of an exercise again! The physicians are nearly in revolt, half of Eighth battalion is terrified of Yan and the other half is enamored of Xiao, and thanks to the fact that they won I'm going to have to deal with idiots trying to imitate them!"

"Bear with it for a handful more years, if you'd be so kind," Lin Shu said, stepping into the room and exchanging nods with Meng da-ge, who was looking wryly amused and possibly a bit envious of the fun the boys had had during the field exercise. Sun Wen, on the other hand, looked suspicious.

"And what is it that will happen in a few years, Vice-Marshal?" he asked, a little stiffly. Lin Shu mentally marked down another who was uncomfortable with his lack of a clearly defined position, here in the capital.

"In another few years, I expect Xiao Jingrui will be promoted." Lin Shu raised inquiring brows at Meng, who nodded, judiciously. "When that happens, Yan Yujin will retire—from the military, at least. He won't be able to protect Jingrui without a political position, at that point, and he's spent far too long guarding Jingrui from politics for it to be imagined that he'll give it up, now."

"I can't argue that he's fiercest in Xiao Jingrui's defense," Sun Wen said, slowly. "That's where a quarter of the broken bones in the vanguard exercise came from." He gave Lin Shu a long look. "Are you saying you want us to encourage that, in someone going into politics?"

Lin Shu turned one hand palm-up with a little shrug. "It is what it is, Vice-Commander. I'm saying nothing any of us do will change it. Therefore, the best course of action is to place the two of them where it will be most beneficial. Jingrui's leadership and example, his sense of loyalty and righteousness, will be of great benefit in the Imperial Guard, and his presence there will ensure that Yujin's efforts are bent toward maintaining the integrity of our armies and preventing internal strife." Sun Wen was looking increasingly sour as he listened to this, and Lin Shu smiled faintly, adding, "It's also where they'll be happiest. They wouldn't stay there, if it weren't."

Sun Wen sat back, at that, eyeing him. "I trust you'll excuse me if I still try to reduce Yan's tendency to extreme action, while I have him," he said, at last, rather dryly.

"Not at all." Lin Shu tapped one of the taller stacks of report folios on Meng's writing table. "You might also consider keeping him busy by putting him in charge of some intelligence and analysis."

Meng da-ge snorted, obviously remembering Yujin's rotation at the Palace, and the new reporting structure that had resulted from his boredom, very clearly. "I'll approve that."

Lin Shu smiled, satisfied. Yujin needed a new information network, now he had less time to spend in the capital's social circles. This would be a good start. In another handful of years, Yujin would enter Ministry politics well equipped. And, once he had more leverage in the political arena, perhaps Yujin would calm a little from his fever-pitch of protectiveness.

They could hope, at any rate. After all, it had worked on Lin Shu, when he was thirteen and furious over Jingyan going into the field without him.

"...and Zhang Ying will be back on duty next month."

Jingrui made a quick note on his roster of those injured in the field exercises. "Good; I hoped that wouldn't be a bad break." Reminded, he frowned and glanced up at Li Renshu, captain of his Sixth Company. "What about Wu Shen?"

Li looked gratified that his fourth squad leader had been remembered, which Jingrui was pleased to see—six months ago, he'd have been surprised. Every now and then, Jingrui was still possessed of an urge to hunt down these men's previous Commander and kick him soundly in the behind. Not for the little cravenness of following questionable orders, but for leaving these men so uncertain of their purpose and worth that the smallest gestures reassured them so.

"He won't be cleared for full-length drills for another few weeks, but he's back on his feet, Commander."

Jingrui sat back from his table with a satisfied smile. "We'll be back up to full strength, then. Good. Is there anything else I need to know of before I write up the battalion's monthly report?"

His company captains shook their heads with murmurs of "No, sir," and "No, Commander," and Jingrui nodded approval and dismissal. He jotted down one last note, as they filed out, and stretched his arms over his head, glancing at the water clock. It was definitely time for him to head home.

The way from his office, through the barracks that housed his battalion's soldiers, and around their drill field, was familiar by now, and Jingrui absently noted to himself the old planking he'd been meaning to ask to get repaired, nodded to the squads changing watch as they stood aside for him, paused to raise an eyebrow at the wrestling competition that spilled off the edge of the drill grounds into his path, trying to stifle the grin that really wanted to break free. He thought his men might have seen it anyway from the sheepish but unalarmed way they ducked their heads as they scrambled back out of his way. By the time he reached the gate to their block of the ward, his horse was waiting for him.

It felt comfortable, to have his battalion around him. Welcoming and stable, in a way he hadn't really felt for three years. His mother's manor still echoed with the breaking of his family, if only because she was there and still mourned. When he traveled outside the cities, he was always a little tense, part of him always watching out of the corner of his eye for any sign of his other family, and flinching every time he caught himself at it, because he had no right. Here, though, he could feel again that loosening in his chest, the complete ease of his breath, that came from knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he belonged to these men, and they to him.

And here, of course, he still had the one constant that had been his all his life, still so one in thought that he wasn't at all surprised to see Yujin turn onto the central road just ahead of him and rein in to wait for him.

"I bet your monthly report is finished already," he said, in greeting, and Yujin laughed as he nudged his horse forward again.

"Of course it is. Unlike some, I know how to be efficient. That's how I caught up with you so easily, despite being born later."

"Ah," Jingrui nodded, wisely. "This is what they call the genius of laziness, I see."

The guards on the east gate of the quarter were stifling grins as they stood back to let Jingrui and Yujin pass. Out of the north-west quarter, the roads were too busy for much conversation, and they rode in companionable silence until they reached Yan Manor. Yujin glanced sidelong at him.

"Will you come in?"

Jingrui's breath hitched a little at the heat and uncertainty in that look, so close a match for his own feelings, of late, that he couldn't help the rueful smile that tugged at his mouth. "Yes," he answered softly. "I'd like that."

He'd grown up as much in Yan Manor as in his own house, but today he found himself not quite knowing where to step, what to do with his sword, what to do with himself once the doors of the east wing were closed behind them. He looked over to find Yujin looking back, chewing on his lip. Their eyes caught, both wide and uncertain, but as one moment and then another slipped by, Jingrui saw Yujin start to smile, felt his own answering smile spreading, and then they were laughing, reaching out to each other as easily as ever, and when he caught his breath again Yujin was folded tight in his arms and he could feel the solid strength of Yujin's arms around him.

From there it only made sense to lean in and kiss him.

Yujin's arms tightened around his ribs, and his mouth opened against Jingrui's, turning the kiss softer, hotter—a wet, hungry slide of lips and tongue that put a shiver down Jingrui's spine. When they finally drew back a little, though, Jingrui had to take a moment to understand what he was seeing. Yujin's lips were parted in a way that made Jingrui want to dive right back into the kiss. But his eyes were wide, soft, wondering, and that made Jingrui stop. He was fairly sure that, of the two of them, Yujin was the more experienced in this kind of thing. Why wondering, then? "Yujin?" he asked, softly.

Yujin shook his head, and this laugh was barely there, just an unsteadiness in his breath. "I never thought..."

There it was, again, and Jingrui freed a hand to touch his cheek. "Why not, if you wanted it?" He had a hard time imagining anything he would deny Yujin. Surely the one person he'd shared the whole of his life with didn't think a crush Jingrui had always known was hopeless would really stand in his way?

Now Yujin looked exasperated and pummeled him lightly on the shoulder. "Because I thought you were in love with someone else. That you've been in love with him since we were barely old enough to know what that meant!" He looked down and added, low, "And I didn't want to come second."

That closed around Jingrui's heart like a fist clenching, and he pulled Yujin tight against him. "Yujin..." He could feel the tension in Yujin's body, against his, and stroked open hands up and down his back, trying to soothe it. Yujin pressed close, silent, and he spoke quietly, against Yujin's ear. "I suppose I always have been a little in love with Lin Shu ge-ge. But I'm not actually blind, and I always knew there'd never be anything there, not for me. You..." he leaned his forehead against Yujin's. "You've always been there for me, Yujin. You're like my breath, my heartbeat." He laughed, a little unsteady in his turn, arms tightening. "I don't even know how to speak of love, to you, because you're so much, to me. You could never come second to anyone."

He could hear the way that made Yujin's breath hitch, sharply, feel the tremor that went through him. "Why didn't you speak, then?" Yujin asked, husky.

"Well, I didn't think you liked men that way!" Jingrui protested. "I mean it was always the shop girls you were flirting with."

Yujin dissolved into laughter against his shoulder, and took a while to stop. That was all right, though, because he didn't let go the entire time. When he lifted his head, Jingrui wasn't surprised to see wetness on his cheeks, but there was a familiar smile, too, bright and rueful. "Well, I didn't want to put you off, if you ever did decide to get over him and speak up." He grinned at Jingrui's exasperated sound and scrubbed a palm over his cheek.

Jingrui smiled, soft and helpless, and reached up to wipe away the wetness on the other side, and then had to catch his breath at the way Yujin's whole face softened, expression turning open and unguardedly happy as he turned his head into Jingrui's hand.

"It's easier for me to see women's beauty," Yujin said, softly, lifting a hand to lay over Jingrui's. "But I can see the beauty in men, too." He looked up to meet Jingrui's gaze, eyes dark. "I've seen it in you, for years."

Jingrui had to swallow at the curl of deep, soft warmth that sent through him, and now he thought he understood the wonder a little better. "Yujin..."

This time, it was Yujin who leaned in to kiss him, hands sliding up over his shoulders to close around his face, and Jingrui was entirely content to relax into that gentle hold. Yujin kissed him again and again, soft little sips of kisses that made Jingrui open his mouth against Yujin's, tongue darting out to stroke against his and coax him deeper. It seemed to work, because Yujin relaxed against him, and he was smiling when he drew back.

"Jingrui. Let me try something?"

Normally, those words, matched to the sparkle in Yujin's eyes, might have made him a little wary, but here and now Jingrui couldn't imagine anything he wouldn't be happy to let Yujin do. "Of course."

Yujin laced their fingers together and tugged him through the outer rooms, toward Yujin's bed. Another sidelong look, questioning and a bit shy, made Jingrui smile, tightening his hold on Yujin's hand before reaching for his own sashes to undo them. Yujin only let him get his outer robe untied, though, before coming to him, his own inner robe still trailing off his shoulders, and laying his hands over Jingrui's. Very softly, eyes steady and serious, he asked, "Let me?"

Jingrui's breath drew in swiftly, a tiny shiver running over him at the earnestness of that question. He had to swallow hard before he could answer, and his voice was husky when he said, "Yes. Always."

Yujin smiled, quick and brilliant as a lightning strike, and it stole Jingrui's breath all over again, to see how much it meant to Yujin, that Jingrui would welcome this small intimacy, would promise it to Yujin's hands and care. He stood quiet while Yujin undressed him, turning with his gentle nudges. Yujin's hands were so careful, on him, that it made Jingrui have to blink back wetness in his eyes. When he was finally bare, and Yujin had come to stand in front of him, hands resting on his shoulders, the soft satisfaction in Yujin's smile finally crystallized what this was telling Jingrui's heart.

"You've always been taking care of me, haven't you?" he asked, softly.

"As well as I could," Yujin answered, simply.

Jingrui had to swallow again, but he was smiling when he reached out and slid his hands down the open collar of Yujin's robes. "Will you let me take care of you, now?"

Yujin blinked, very much as if the notion had never occurred to him, but then he smiled, small and pleased, ducking his head a little. "Yes. If you like."

"Of course I like." Jingrui tipped his chin back up and kissed him, softly, promising again, against his mouth, "Always."

Yujin's breath caught, and Jingrui kissed him one more time, gentle, before setting about divesting Yujin of his inner robe and undergarments, just as carefully, as tenderly, as he could, hoping to ease the fragile edge on the hope in Yujin's face. When he was done, he gathered Yujin tight against him, and repeated softly, against his ear, "Always." The fierce tightening of Yujin's arms around him was enough to drive his breath out, and he would have pursued the issue further—surely Yujin knew they were for always?—but Yujin drew back and tugged him down to the bed.

"Let me?" he asked again, pressing Jingrui back against the stacked pillows.

"Of course. Anything you... want..." Jingrui's answer ended rather breathlessly, as Yujin nudged his knees apart and settled between them, leaning on his elbows. Yujin looked up at him under his lashes, with that wicked sparkle back in his eyes. Jingrui made a wordless sound that was definitely not a squeak, as Yujin leaned down—a sound that dissolved into a moan as Yujin's tongue ran up the length of him, hot and slick. Yujin made a pleased sound of his own and leaned down further, wrapping his mouth around Jingrui.

Jingrui had already been most of the way hard, just from touching as they'd undressed each other, but now it felt like all the blood in his body was rushing to fill his cock. He could feel every movement of Yujin's lips and tongue, against him, and each soft, wet stroke sent a thrill of pleasure up his spine, leaving him gasping. "Yujin..."

"Mmmm?"

The vibration of Yujin's mouth around him wrung a groan out of him, hot sensation bursting wildly down his nerves. Jingrui clutched at the folded covers under him, completely unable to stop the little upward jerks of his hips. After some hesitation, Yujin finally folded his arms over Jingrui's hips and leaned his weight on them, making a pleased sound as he slid his mouth back down and Jingrui found himself without enough leverage to move. Jingrui moaned out loud at the way that sent heat twisting through him, tight and sweet, and when Yujin sucked on him, hard, it all came undone in a wild rush of pleasure uncoiling. "Yujin!"

He felt Yujin's fingers tight around him, stroking him through it, and looked up to find Yujin watching him, eyes dark with heat, mouth red, and that wrung him out yet again, until he moaned, breathless. When he finally lay quiet again, undone and panting for breath, Yujin slid back up to wind around him, settling close with a satisfied smile. Jingrui wound slightly shaky arms around him, and laughed. "Have me where you want me?" he asked, husky.

Yujin smirked and snuggled closer. "Pretty much, yes."

After a few quiet minutes of cuddling, Jingrui regathered enough of his thoughts to stroke a hand down Yujin's body, a little shyly. "Let me, now?"

Yujin looked up from his shoulder with a smile that had the same edge of shyness in it. "Yes."

Jingrui gathered him closer and turned them, settling Yujin back against the now-disordered pillows. A little wryly, he added, "Though I'm not sure if I'm ready to try exactly that, just yet."

Yujin settled back with a small, contented sound, and reached up to brush back Jingrui's hair. "Of course not. I don't think I'd have tried it myself, yet, if I hadn't had advice."

Jingrui stopped quite still for a long moment. "...advice?"

Yujin's eyes were sparkling again. "Mm. From the ladies I visit. They thought it was sweet, that I asked."

Jingrui sputtered. "You... you asked... Yujin!"

Yujin laughed at him, reaching up to pull him down and hug him tight. When Jingrui had given up and stopped sputtering, and Yujin had finished laughing, he added, softer, "If it ever happened, I wanted to get it right."

Jingrui gave over and held him close, helplessly tender. "Then thank you." When he lifted his head, he could see Yujin was blushing at that, and cradled him closer, kissing him softly, coaxing. The way Yujin answered him, so open, so willing, made it easy to run his hands down Yujin's body, slow and caressing, glad to have an answer for the hunger in him. When he wrapped his fingers around Yujin's length and stroked him, the shaky edge to Yujin's moan made heat curl through him in response. The knowledge that Yujin wanted this, wanted him, so much, settled warm in his chest, and he worked his hand over Yujin, slow and firm, attending to what made him gasp or arch up against Jingrui.

Yujin liked to be touched firmly. He liked to be kissed while Jingrui rubbed a thumb over the head of his cock. And when Jingrui bit gently at his lower lip, hand tightening on him, Yujin bucked up sharply into his hand, moaning out loud, hands tight on Jingrui's shoulders as he came undone. Jingrui smiled, pleased, and swallowed the sounds he made in a deep, fierce kiss, stroking him until he stilled.

"Oh," Yujin said, softly, eyes a little dazed when he looked up at Jingrui. Now Jingrui understood the satisfaction in Yujin's smile perfectly, and cuddled Yujin close with a contented sound. When Yujin curled into him, relaxed and easy, Jingrui thought he might be perfectly happy to stay this way for always. At some point, no doubt, food and work would get them out of bed again, but for now at least, they could stay here and he could soak in the feeling of Yujin, warm and close in his arms.

Jingrui pressed a kiss to Yujin's now-mussed hair, and smiled.

Contrary to the image he'd cultivated over the years, Yujin was actually quite well-versed in self-control. A seamless social front was not achieved through lax control, and even less by ignoring the unspoken rules of one's environment. Nevertheless, he had to admit that it was extremely tempting to ignore them for just long enough to lean over the writing table that held their latest plans for interior drills, and kiss Jingrui. From the way Jingrui was grinning sidelong at him as they sorted lists of archers to decide who got the fixed position and who got to sortie, Yujin was fairly sure he was aware of the urge, which did nothing to discourage the idea. Rather the reverse, actually.

Just as he was about to abandon the personnel lists and kiss that curve off Jingrui's lips, though, there was a brisk rap on the door frame and Yujin looked up to see Lin Shu standing in it. From the way the corners of his mouth were curling up, he probably knew just what they'd been about to do, also. Yujin sighed; this was what he got for letting his guard down, he supposed. "Lin Shu ge-ge. Hi."

Jingrui promptly blushed and straightened up with a self-conscious look. Yujin shook his head, smiling helplessly. Jingrui was so transparent. It was adorable, when it wasn't alarming him.

Lin Shu chuckled and stepped in, taking the seat Jingrui hastily cleared off. "Good afternoon to you. I'm glad I caught you both here."

"Was there something you needed..." Jingrui hesitated and glanced at Yujin before finishing, more formal than usual, "sir?"

Yujin tried not to let that little bit of thoughtfulness make him smile too foolishly, and settled himself to attend to their cousin.

"Just some clarification, really. We're finally ready to start clearing out the problems among the lower ranks of the armies, and that overlaps your own work in places." Lin Shu gave Yujin a level look. "Did you want to keep working on Wan Fa, yourself?"

Yujin froze, reflex panic flashing cold down his nerves; if they knew about Wan Fa, they knew about Jingrui's involvement...

"Only Jingyan and I know," Lin Shu said quietly. "We have not spoken of it, even to his mother or wife." Just as Yujin was starting to take a full breath again, he added, "Not yet." He sighed and shook his head at Yujin's hand, suddenly clenched around the list he'd been holding. "Yujin, think. Lady Jing, at the very least, will need to know of this when Yuwen Nian marries Prince Ning, if only to guide her against any repeat." A little more gently, he finished, "And you have to know you won't be able to keep Jingrui entirely in the background any longer, now you both have positions in the capital."

"What are you talking about?" Jingrui was frowning. "Yujin has never..." He stopped at Lin Shu's raised hand, but he was still frowning, still puzzling at the words, and Yujin took a long breath, trying not to glare at their cousin for letting on so much. That wouldn't help.

"We're only Commanders. There's no reason for anyone but Vice-Commander Sun or High Commander Meng to take notice of us, is there?" he asked, tightly, more a demand than a question, really.

"For now," Lin Shu agreed, so easily Yujin was already wary when he added, "But the two of you are bright and skilled. You can't imagine you'll go very long without being promoted." He leaned over the table, eyes turning sharp. "Especially when we need exactly that, in our officers."

Yujin bit his lip. He didn't need Lin Shu to draw it out for him, from there. If there was need, then of course Jingrui would be promoted, quite possibly into Sun's position; the Vice-Commander had made no secret of his desire to get back to his retirement once the Jin army was back on its feet. And a Vice-Commander of the Jin army was too high and too close to the Palace to be ignored any longer. The first minister who happened to be nearby the next time Jingrui was irritated over some remnant of corruption that affected his men or their duties would know the kind of vulnerability Jingrui's idealism could provide, likely before Jingrui got to the end of his sentence. And, at that point, Yujin wouldn't be able to stop whoever it might be from using Jingrui as a lever or a tool, from blackmailing him with the threat of reporting disloyalty to the Emperor, from using him as an unknowing conduit to the Crown Prince's ear, from using Jingrui's easy friendship as a counter in the games of court, not unless...

"So," Lin Shu said quietly. "Knowing what is coming, do you wish to keep working on Wan Fa yourself, or shall I deal with this, for now?"

Yujin closed his eyes. Now he knew what Lin Shu was really here to find out. "I'll keep this one," he answered, low. The sooner he got started building his contacts and reputation, the better.

A warm hand covered his wrist, and he opened his eyes to see Jingrui leaning over the table toward him, eyes sharp and rather fierce. "Yujin, what are you talking about?"

Yujin chewed on his lip, looking back. He'd never actually told Jingrui what it was he did. Jingrui had been so angry and upset over the little they'd understood of the fall of Lin and Prince Qi's household that Yujin hadn't thought he'd go along with it, and that had never quite changed. But there was trust and belief looking back at him, now, in Jingrui's level gaze, and he couldn't betray that.

"Yujin," Jingrui said again, softly, hand tightening. "You're about to do something dangerous, aren't you? Tell me. Let me help."

Yujin's mouth quirked. As much as Jingrui didn't usually pay attention to social (or political) nuances, Lin Shu's very presence was surely enough to tell him this was dangerous, yes. "I..." He sighed, leaning both elbows on the table. "Ever since the Chiyan case, I've tried to keep you away from politics."

Jingrui blinked at him for a moment, but then, slowly, nodded. "Because you thought it would be dangerous?"

"Because it was dangerous," Yujin said, flatly. "Idealists die in our court. It's just what happens. I think..." he looked down at his hands. "I think that's why my father withdrew to the temples, as much as he could."

"It was," Lin Shu put in, softly, and Yujin nodded.

"So I listened, at parties and events, for the names of the people who were playing court games, and I tried to keep you from getting involved, sidetrack you however I could. Which didn't get any easier when the Marquis started playing both sides," he added, disgruntled just remembering how much that had complicated his life.

"That was why...?" Jingrui huffed a soft laugh. "Oh, Yujin." He let go of Yujin's wrist and laced their fingers together instead, gently. When Yujin looked up, he was smiling. "Thank you. For taking care."

That gentleness pulled words out of Yujin before he thought to stop them. "Of course I took care. You and my father were all that was left."

The slow widening of Jingrui's eyes made him tense again; had that been too much to admit, too much to ask for (again)? But Jingrui's hand tightened on his, holding him. "Yujin..." Jingrui took a breath and said, steady. "I'm sorry."

Yujin blinked, caught flat-footed by that, and Jingrui smiled a little, ruefully.

"I'm sorry I didn't see. I made life harder for you, didn't I?"

Yujin shook his head. "It was something I chose to do on my own." Jingrui's grip tightened again for a moment, stilling him.

"If we're promoted... it will be harder again, won't it?"

Yujin took a breath and shook his head again, feeling certainty settle in his chest. "No more than usual. Not if I'm in the ministries."

Jingrui took a breath to protest—Yujin knew it was going to be a protest—but then he stopped. Slowly, watching Yujin carefully, he asked instead, "Will you be happy, doing that? I know you're good at it. I know you can. I know you think you need to. But will it make you happy?"

Yujin opened his mouth only to close it again, a little nonplussed at how thoroughly Jingrui had closed down all the answers he'd normally have used to dodge the actual question. Jingrui's smile, a little chiding and a little coaxing, said he knew it, too. "All right, all right," Yujin huffed, but had to smile back. "Yes. I think it will." He waved a hand at his writing table, stacked with more reports than any other Commander in Jin willingly invited, all in the name of knowing what was going on. "It seems to be what I do."

"All right then," Jingrui agreed, softly, and lifted their hands to press a kiss to Yujin's fingers.

Yujin turned very red and shot a quick look at Lin Shu, who was, thankfully, pretending to look at the shelves and not notice. "Jingrui!" he hissed.

Jingrui just laughed, not letting go of his hand, and Yujin gave him a long-suffering look. He didn't pull away, though.

"Well, if that's settled," Lin Shu murmured, looking very entertained, "think about where you'd like to enter, Yujin. Either State Revenue or the Bureau of Discipline would be easy to fit you into, but if you have your eye on another route, tell me."

"Where are you expecting those routes to go?" Yujin asked, a little cautious. He had cause to trust Lin Shu's ability to plot these things, and that he was well disposed toward them, but he also had a lively respect for his cousin's ruthlessness. And however much affection Lin Shu ge-ge had for them, he was the Crown Prince's man, now. Whatever he did would serve Jingyan's ends first of all.

Lin Shu rose, shaking his robes straight, and smiled down at them. "Yan has produced two Chancellors, for this nation. Perhaps it should be three, hm?"

Jingrui's eyes widened, but Yujin smiled, even as he felt his face heat again at that casual vote of confidence. He'd been seen, and seen clearly, and for once he thought he didn't mind it—not when it meant Lin Shu understood how far Yujin would go to keep his own safe, and was willing to support him in that. "If you think so."

"I do."

Yujin ducked his head, honestly flattered by the firm certainty in his cousin's voice, and Lin Shu ge-ge patted his shoulder as he stepped past, toward the door. Yujin sat back as he swept out, and tightened his grip on Jingrui's hand, feeling more settled than he had in a long time.

This was his, and this he would guard.

The year had turned, and all through the city families celebrated whatever fortune had favored them, hoped for more in the new year, gathered to drive out the winter darkness and welcome in the new life of spring.

Jingrui wandered through the soft, colored brightness of the Lantern Festival at Yujin's side, as they'd done so often over the years. This year, though, he found himself suddenly more aware of some things. He'd always teased Yujin about how much attention he tended to attract, during the festival, but this was the first time Jingrui had gotten personally annoyed by the number of matrons and chaperones and matchmakers who found a moment to pause their party by Yujin and Jingrui, and have a few smiling words with the son and only heir of the Yan family. This year, he had to stop himself from 'accidentally' stepping between Yujin and the next party they saw that included a girl out for a promenade at the festival.

No sooner did he notice the urge, though, then he also noticed something else. Yujin looked like he was flirting; he smiled and flattered the older women, and said kind things about the young women, loudly enough to be overheard. But he was also, unmistakably, turning them away. It tugged at Jingrui's attention more and more as the evening drew on, and once he started really watching, he could see that Yujin's body language turned reserved, straightening into a quiet restraint, every time another party approached them. Without a word spoken directly, one mother or matchmaker after another patted Yujin's arm and passed on, sweeping the girls along without a backward glance.

And then Yujin would relax, and lean against his shoulder, and laugh openly again.

The more Jingrui saw, as they wound past the stalls of lanterns and the bright-glowing fronts of the capital's mansions and pavilions, the more he thought back over other festivals or parties or outings he'd seen Yujin at, always smiling and laughing—what else had he been doing, all that time, that Jingrui hadn't noticed?

Not that he really needed to ask, after Lin Shu ge-ge's recent visit. Still, when they fetched up at a grove on the edge of the east district's pond, quieter and a bit darker than the streets if still fairly crowded with strolling groups, he drew Yujin closer and asked softly, "How much of that have you been doing, all this time?"

Yujin's dark eyes looked bottomless in the evening's soft glow. "As much as seemed necessary," he answered, low.

"Necessary," Jingrui repeated, slowly, turning over the things Yujin had said during that startling meeting. "To keep me safe."

Yujin just nodded, as if it were perfectly self-evident, and Jingrui couldn't help laughing, soft and more than a little stunned. "All that... all this time..." Jingrui swallowed hard and reached out, careless of who might be watching, and pulled Yujin close, holding him tight.

"Thank you," he whispered against Yujin's ear.

Yujin made a dismissive sound, but his arms wound tight around Jingrui. Jingrui leaned back far enough to look him in the eye, and closed his hands around Yujin's face, gently, to make sure of it. "Yujin, listen. I'm yours, all right? Whatever happens, whatever it is we do with our lives, I'm yours. Just like you're mine. You have my word." He could feel the tremor that went through Yujin, at that, though the only visible sign of his reaction was a little widening of his eyes, and nodded to himself. He thought he was figuring out how to read Yujin properly again, the way he hadn't, perhaps, since they were much younger. Since before the fall of Lin and Prince Qi.

Thinking that, he listened to the way Yujin's body swayed just a little towards him, and leaned back in to kiss him, slow and sure, in the warm light of the lanterns—kissed him until the quick clench of Yujin's hands in the back of his robes eased, until Yujin's mouth against his softened from the first desperate hunger.

Then, at last, he drew back and rested his forehead against Yujin's, smiling. "So. Go ahead and take over Jingyan ge-ge's government, if it will make you happy, and I'll see to his soldiers. And let me guard your back, as you guard mine."

Yujin smiled back, brighter than all the lanterns in the streets behind them, and answered, softly, "Yes."

"Good." Jingrui stepped back, sliding a hand down to tangle their fingers together, and tugged Yujin back toward the brightly lit streets. As they plunged back into the light, even when Yujin's grip on his hand eased, as if to obey propriety and reserve, and let go, Jingrui only tightened his hold.

He would never let this go, again.

End

Approach Over the Lake

Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei go apartment hunting. Humor, Fluff, Romance, I-2

At first Shen Wei had been amused by Yunlan's team bringing another box of his belongings to Yunlan's apartment every time one of them visited, as though he might not notice them moving him in if they just did it gradually enough. The fact was, though, that despite not accumulating a great many things, Shen Wei owned too much to fit easily into the apartment of a man who had turned his bedroom into a workout space. So it was only a few weeks after they'd returned from the Lamp that he said, on the drive in to work, "Either I need to re-acquire my old apartment, or we need to think about moving."

Yunlan laughed. "What, you don't think cardboard is the hot new material for book cases?"

"It does clash a bit with your decorating scheme," Shen Wei noted dryly Cardboard would never hold the weight of Yunlan's collection of alcohol, for one thing.

"I think Da Qing is the only one who really approves of those boxes." Yunlan gunned the engine through a light about to change, and Shen Wei braced himself with the habit that a year disembodied had done nothing to blunt. "Our building doesn't have any larger units, though."

"Which is why you need to think about where else you might like to live," Shen Wei pointed out as Yunlan pulled in to the front drive of the biosciences building. "We can find an agent once you decide that." Yunlan set a hand on his arm as he went to open the passenger door, staying him.

"What about where you'd like to live?" he asked, quietly.

Warmth curled through Shen Wei at that ready thoughtfulness. "Yunlan, I've lived in and around this city since it was first built. Every district in it has places that I've enjoyed spending my time." Yunlan settled back at that, with a faintly rueful smile. Shen Wei thought he still let the knowledge slip away, sometimes, that Shen Wei really was that old. The crooked line of Yunlan's smile didn't feel like quite the right way to start the day off, though, so he added, as he swung down from the Jeep, "Besides, what makes you think I don't have a list of requirements already written up?"

That made Yunlan laugh again.

When Shen Wei thought about it, he felt he should have expected the problems they ran into. After all, he'd noticed Yunlan's taste in vehicles, in clothing, even in liquor. The style might be casual but the substance was both choosy and expensive. The moment they'd started looking for new apartments, that taste had surfaced with a vengeance.

The high-rise downtown hadn't been sufficiently insulated. The re-zoned and renovated block of modern apartments by the park had security that was too intrusive. The second-story apartment on the edge of the university district had appliances that were too old, despite the fact that Yunlan would not be the one using most of them.

Their agent was starting to look like she regretted her choice of career, or at least of clients.

"This is the last one on my list," she said as the door was unlocked. "It's at the top end of the price range you wanted, but it's been recently upgraded..."

Shen Wei followed Yunlan inside and stepped into light. Broad windows on two sides of the large, open room caught the late afternoon sun, and it glowed back from white plaster and honey-colored wood around the frames and across the floor. The faint creak under his feet suggested it was fairly old wood, but the light gleamed off clean, new steel and dark blue tile to the left, where the kitchen had a wide window of its own, over the sink. Shen Wei went to glance down the short hallway beyond, which opened into three more rooms, two of them almost as bright as the living room, and a generous bathroom.

It wasn't until he was running his fingers over the tall shelves of the living room that he realized Yunlan hadn't said a thing, yet. "Yunlan?" he asked, a bit curious about such restraint, turning to see his lover smiling at him.

"We'll take it," Yunlan told their agent.

Shen Wei felt a strong need to adjust his glasses. Their agent looked even more stunned. Yunlan merely shrugged, as if his reasons should be obvious.

"None of the rest of them made you smile like that."

It took Shen Wei most of the way home to regain his composure.

He did not succeed in talking Yunlan out of getting the apartment that made Shen Wei most at ease. After a week of arguing, however—a week that Da Qing spectated like they were a particularly entertaining tennis match—he did manage to insist that Yunlan arrange and decorate the place as he pleased. That resulted in a day of Yunlan wandering about looking thoughtful, and then a shopping spree that produced heavy, dark curtains in the living room, half a dozen inconspicuous lamps that Yunlan put on the floor and pointed at the corners, and a few gallons of paint that turned their bedroom a deep, underwater green. The second bedroom acquired two walls of bookshelves and a lavish new desk, with Shen Wei's brush sets arranged on it. The far corner of the living room gained a corner table for Da Qing's bed, and his swing was hung next to it, looking out one window past the houseplants. The wine shelf was installed by the kitchen. The windowless bedroom turned out to fit all of Yunlan's workout equipment, even the weight bench, and started to look rather like a shrine to violent physical fitness. Yunlan's wealth of small tables, stools, and shelves clustered around the living room furniture and were quickly populated with a mixed collection of statuary, lamps, wood work, and Da Qing's goldfish.

And Shen Wei finally relaxed a little.

"You're really that unused to anyone at all taking care of you, aren't you?" Yunlan asked, winding his arms around Shen Wei from behind and gathering him back against Yunlan's body. Shen Wei leaned against him, looking around the airy lightness of the living room, which was only heightened by the contrast of the dark curtains framing each window.

"It's not that." Yunlan made a disbelieving sound, and a faint smile tugged at his mouth. "Well. That too, perhaps, but... I don't want you getting lost in me."

Yunlan smiled against his neck. "You don't need to worry about that, xiao-Wei."

The reminder that Zhao Yunlan had the memory of a whole other life worth of stubbornness, now, did relax him, he had to admit. "All right," he agreed, quietly, resting a hand over Yunlan's. And then his breath caught as Yunlan pressed an open-mouthed kiss just under his ear.

"So. Want to try out the new bed?" Yunlan murmured against his skin, and Shen Wei had to laugh.

"All right," he agreed again, with far more of a purr in it this time.

Maybe there really was no need to worry, after all.

End

The Marriage of Lightning and the Lake

Zhu Hong works on how to be Chief Elder, and falls hard for Ya Qing in the process. (Her uncle may have a point about her terrible taste.) Fluff, Romance, Character Study, Drama with a Pinch of Action, I-3

Now

Zhu Hong had been brought up as the precious daughter of the Snake tribe. Her uncle had spoiled her, especially after she lost her parents. Her older cousins had doted on her, and she'd never lacked for indulgent eyes watching over her. She'd been the uncontested princess of the children her own age, and ruled over her playmates with careless ease. She'd been taught the history and arts of her people until that had bored her, and then been allowed to go among humans for schooling in the greater world. When she'd stumbled across the Special Investigations Division while they chased a life-stealer, she'd decided she wanted to work for the Division Chief who'd taken the time to make sure she was safely away before closing on the culprit. She'd gotten her way.

Zhu Hong had perfected the pout, the winsome look, and the hard fist as tools to make the world go her way, and she knew exactly how to use them. As time went on, and sheâ€™d started wanting to be stronger, she'd honed her natural abilities until she could do almost what any of her fully-transformed cousins could. She'd learned human ways so well she could blend in as completely as she wished.

None of that told her the first thing about how to be Chief Elder of the Yashou people.

Then

â€œ...never learned a thing about ruling, I never even took any classes on politics.â€ Zhu Hong twisted her hands together, pacing her uncleâ€™s small outer room. â€œIs this really a good idea?â€

He sat back in his chair, face perfectly neutral the way it almost never was with her. â€œDo you wish to abdicate, then?â€

â€œNo!â€ Zhu Hong bit her lip. She didnâ€™t want to give up on the way forward Zhao Yunlan had probably hoped for, for the Yashou. But... â€œBut if itâ€™s the right thing for the tribes,â€ she said, slow and reluctant, â€œI should.â€

An unimpressed sniff from the open door sent her spinning on her heel to see who would be eavesdropping on the Elder of the Snake tribe. Sheer black draperies stirred, just outside, and Zhu Hong stiffened. Of all the people she shouldnâ€™t let overhear the slightest lack of confidence!

â€œYou donâ€™t need learning, for this, little snakelet.â€ Ya Qing didnâ€™t look around at her, only stood with folded arms and her back to them. â€œWe have that. What you need is wisdom.â€ Now she turned her head, and raked Zhu Hong head to foot with a cutting gaze. Another sniff. â€œI suppose you have enough of that to be going on with.â€

As Zhu Hong stood there, stunned, the breath sheâ€™d taken in to protest caught short in her throat, Ya Qing spread her arms and leaped into the sky.

â€œThat one always did have a taste for drama,â€ her uncle snorted, and stood to come and take Zhu Hongâ€™s shoulders. â€œSo? What do you want to do, a-Hong?â€

Zhu Hong took another breath, trying to ignore the tangle of flattery and annoyance making her stomach flutter. â€œI want to try.â€ And then she couldnâ€™t quite help asking, â€œDo you think sheâ€™s right?â€

Her uncle smiled. â€œI think she could be.â€

Zhu Hong smiled back, a little shy, and repeated. â€œIâ€™ll try.â€

Now

Honored Chief Elder...

Zhu Hong stifled a groan. It was getting so she felt a headache coming on just reading those words. And there'd been three letters waiting for her, this week, when she visited her uncle's house. Three! For the Chief Elder, bypassing the tribe Elders completely!

Unfortunately, a glance at her office computer showed no new cases miraculously appearing to cause a plausible delay in dealing with these. She sighed and unfolded the first letter.

Then

Zhu Hong paced back and forth across the roof of the University's east classroom building, trying not to move too fast or clench her hands or be otherwise obviously nervous, but unable to be still. She still wasn't sure this was an entirely good idea.

Neither was anyone else. Her uncle, and even Ying Chun, had offered to come with her. When she'd refused that, her uncle had tried to send a cousin with her as a bodyguard. She'd had to argue for ten solid minutes to avoid that. She'd have felt better for some backup, yes, facing someone of Ya Qing's power, but... taking someone from her own tribe just felt wrong, and bringing the Elder of the Flower tribe would make her look like a child hiding behind her aunt's skirts. So instead, she'd done the next best thing and just had to hope it wouldn't backfire...

"Interesting choice of location."

Zhu Hong whipped around, biting back a hiss of surprise. She hadn't even seen Ya Qing approach, let alone change. There she was, though, leaning against the roof safety rail with her arms crossed, black gown ruffling in the wind.

Smiling.

Zhu Hong settled back on her heels. Ya Qing's smile was sharp and crooked, but it looked more amused than mocking. So Zhu Hong took a breath and lifted her chin. "It seemed suitable, to meet in neutral territory at first."

"And to remind me which of us chose the winning side?" Ya Qing flicked dismissive, gloved fingers when Zhu Hong started to protest. "It was a clever choice. So? What does the Chief Elder want with me?"

Zhu Hong crossed her arms with a huff, because she couldn't actually deny she'd hoped the lingering shadow of the Black-cloaked Envoy would keep things calm. She also tried to ignore the little curl of pleasure that the Crow Elder thought her clever. "I just want to know. What exactly is it that you want? Snake, Flower, they're both pretty content with how things are. The Snake tribe is happy if they're left alone, and the Flower tribe already goes anywhere they please. What is it that Crow wants?"

Ya Qing pursed her lips, looking thoughtful, and pushed away from the rail to stroll over to Zhu Hong's side. "You could have asked your uncle, or Ying Chun. They've heard it often enough."

"Maybe." Zhu Hong's hands tightened on her elbows. "I want to know what you say, though. To hear it in your own words." That was basic investigation, after all; she hoped it was basic politics, too.

And it seemed like it was, because Ya Qing relaxed a little, the feathers of her cloak rustling as her shoulders eased from their tense poise—flight-ready, Zhu Hong realized. Maybe she wasnâ€™t the only nervous one? Ya Qing turned her face up to the sun.

"I want to stop hiding," she said, quietly. "In the last hundred years, humans have turned further and further away from us, forgotten that they live in the same world as us, and we... we have let them. We've withdrawn and hidden from them. Even when we've been caught in their catastrophes, like the killings that swept the land these last fifty years, we've done nothing but hide ourselves away deeper." She looked back down, and Zhu Hong took a step back. Ya Qingâ€™s eyes burned, dark and furious. "I am sick of it."

Zhu Hong wet her lips. She recognized that fury, had seen it so often in the SID's investigations, and she'd seen it drive terrifying explosions of violence. Very softly, she asked, "Who did you lose?"

Ya Qing laughed once, short and hard. "Such a smart little serpent." She looked away, over the University's central lawn. Zhu Hong waited, trying not to feel fear of the fire she was standing so near. "My eldest sister," Ya Qing finally answered, low. "The one who should have been our Elder. She liked to go among humans—said their gossip was more fun to listen to than ours. But someone saw her change, and that was a time when the slightest deviation was feared, attacked." She swallowed, sharp and convulsive. "They mobbed and killed her."

Zhu Hong's hands closed tight on each other. "I'm sorry for your loss." After the way the public had been turned on the SID, she had an unpleasantly visceral idea of how that might have gone. How much, she suddenly wondered, had Ye Zun turned Ya Qing against him, with that order? Had that been why Ya Qing had surrendered so easily to the branch's choice of Chief Elder?

"She's gone," Ya Qing said, dry and distant, not looking at her. "There's nothing to be done about that. But I can try to keep it from happening again." With a quick breath, she seemed to come back to the present. "Or at least I can argue for it."

"So," Zhu Hong said slowly, "you want humans to know about the Yashou? So they're less afraid of us?"

Ya Qing gave her a cool smile. "Precisely."

The smile was cool, but there was a gleam in her eye that made Zhu Hong think that the matriarch of the biggest eavesdroppers and gossips in the world probably knew full well what Zhao Yunlan's thoughts had been, when it came to informing the populace. Zhu Hong tried, but she really couldn't hold back her laugh at the sheer nerve and grace of Ya Qingâ€™s dance across the lines of friend and foe. Ya Qing's smile curled wider, and she set a hand on her hip, smug (preening) in her success.

"You look like a cat," Zhu Hong giggled, and Ya Qing ruffled up.

"Bite your tongue." A faint sniff and she settled again, serious again but without all the fierce, edged focus of her first appearance. "So?"

Zhu Hong missed the teasing smile with an unexpected pang, but she took a breath and thought about it. Zhao Yunlan had chosen something right for humans; was it right for Yashou?

An image drifted through her mind, of going out to eat, maybe even with company, and being able to order a raw meat dish. And maybe some of the other diners would be disgusted, and maybe some would be fascinated, but what if she could know that the server would only hesitate a moment, and the cook would maybe even be excited to make something unusual, and that her companion would expect it. Might even have taken her out specifically for this treat.

Ya Qing's smile flashed through her head, and she stuffed it immediately away, trying to pretend there was no blush on her cheeks. "It seems reasonable," she said hastily, to Ya Qing's raised brows. "At least as long as our territory is respected. But how... I mean, it seems like the kind of thing we could only do through negotiation with the human Ministry."

Ya Qing smiled, slow, cocking her head. "What an ambitious scope you think in, Chief Elder," she purred. "I think I like it."

Zhu Hong tried very hard not to squeak, or blush any more, or really react at all. She was pretty sure she was failing. "Then..." she cleared her throat and forced the breathlessness out of her voice. "Then I'll consider, with the other Elders, how this might be done to everyone's satisfaction."

Ya Qing laughed softly. "Everyone's? You're an idealistic child. But I think perhaps I will like that, as well. Better than the reverse, at least." She gathered her cloak about her. "Perhaps that ancient bit of wood truly does judge our natures." In a flash of wings, she was gone.

Zhu Hong sat down abruptly on the short wall around the edge of the roof, careless of how her pants were going to get smudged, and pressed her palms over her cheeks. Ya Qing was just teasing. Of course she was; she thought of Zhu Hong as a child—she'd even said it. Typical of a Crow.

Of course, that must be it.

Now

The first letter was complaining of a human trespassing on the edge of Snake territory, and Zhu Hong had to wrestle with a strong urge to stab the paper with her pen, or possibly even bite it. They had a process for this kind of thing, and it did not include bending the ear of the Chief Elder!

She muttered under her breath as she hammered on the keyboard, sending a query to the police to see whether this had been reported (in which case the complainer might just live) or had been sent straight to her and no one else (in which case someone was about to get his tail tied in a knot, just see if she didn't).

Then

"This will require re-writing parts of the treaty between the races."

"I know."

"We don't even have contact with Dixing, right now, to fully ratify it again."

"I know."

"A-Hong, this will make things far more complicated—"

Zhu Hong exploded up out of her chair, in her uncle's front room. "I know that! But Ya Qing has a point! If we really had stayed neutral, this time, how do you think the humans would have looked on us, if they'd won? Do you really imagine we'd have been able to wave the treaty at them and say 'neutral!' and they'd have just accepted that?"

Her uncle sat back, brows rising. "We could have hidden," he said, but he sounded more thoughtful now.

"Where?" she demanded. "And for how long, before we ran out of places? Humans hunt their enemies; it's something they have in common with Dixingren. And the less they know us, the more we withdraw, the more we look like enemies."

Ying Chun finally looked up from her hands, folded on the table before her. "What if they do know of us, though? What will that mean for my people who don't wish to be treated like some rare plant display, or fenced off?"

Zhu Hong chewed on her lip. What public suspicion might do to them all was one of the things she didn't quite know what to do with, yet. "What if... what if no one had to reveal themselves immediately? Only the ones who want to, at first, and we just... don't mention everyone else?" Professionalism nipped at her, and she added, "Unless someone has witnessed a crime."

Ying Chun shook her head, kind but firm. "That will touch off a hunt, the first time someone has to come forward who had stayed hidden until then."

"All or nothing," Zhu Hong murmured, mostly to herself, and flopped back down into her chair with a sigh. There seemed to be danger both ways. If only the Yashou had anything resembling local patrolmen, anyone who was used to looking after large groups of people... Abruptly she sat up again, eyes widening. "Oh! We could use their's!"

"A-Hong?" her uncle asked, cautious in a way that reminded her of his reaction to her attempts at creating medications, when she was young. She huffed at him, disgruntled.

"The police! The ones who patrol on the street, and have their own neighborhoods to look after. They're the ones who could look out for trouble, and make sure everyone was safe; it's their job!"

"Could we rely on human patrolmen to look after us?" Ying Chun asked, hesitant.

Zhu Hong sat forward, hands tight on each other with excitement as the thought unfolded further. "We could ask for liaisons from our people. The same way I am, to the SID." Her hands broke apart, reaching as if she could hold this idea between them. "Maybe even use that as a way to get those of us who want to live closer to humans a start, introduce them and let them see how things work!"

Her uncle was back to looking thoughtful. "I suppose there are a few of the youngsters who might try. And sending them around with a human in authority would protect them, too."

"Borrowing human authority to smooth our own way. I like that idea." Ying Chun smiled at Zhu Hong. "I think I see why Qing-jie has started to approve of you more."

Warmth flashed through Zhu Hong, like basking in the perfect beam of sunshine, and her breath caught on it. "She has?" Both her uncle and Ying Chun paused, staring at her, and she promptly blushed. That had probably been more gleeful than she should sound about Ya Qing's approval.

"A-Hong." Her uncle, in his turn, sounded alarmed, and she slid down in her chair, not meeting anyone's eyes. "You're not... you're not really..."

Ying Chun burst out laughing, sweet and light, and Zhu Hong tried to sink through the floor. "Oh, no wonder she looked so pleased with herself!"

Uncle started half up from his chair. "If Ya Qing thinks she can trifle with my niece...!"

Ying Chun crossed her arms, stubborn as wood. "What's wrong with it? Qing-jie is a good person! She wouldn't lead anyone on."

That made Zhu Hong look up from the start of her plan to slink under the table and escape. "Really?" Her uncle sagged back with a groan, which Zhu Hong firmly ignored. Ying Chun patted her arm with the kind smile that had made Zhu Hong tag along after her whenever she visited, when Zhu Hong was a child.

"Really. It's been a long time since she looked at anyone like that, actually. I'm glad she is again." Her smile turned impish. "And she thinks you're cute."

Zhu Hong could feel the smile taking over her face, bright and hopeful as the feeling in her chest.

"I believe her exact words were, 'more guts than brains, but she does have some brains, and it's a cute look on her'."

"Auntie!" Zhu Hong pressed her hands over her face, blushing so hard she thought she might faint.

"Stop teasing your Chief Elder," her uncle grumbled. Zhu Hong couldn't help noticing she only seemed to be Chief Elder when it was convenient. "If we're really going to plan on revealing ourselves and sending some of us among the humans' patrollers, we need all three Elders here to discuss it."

All right, maybe not just when it was convenient.

"I'll send a message to Qing-jie." Ying Chun rose and patted Zhu Hong's shoulder as she left, which was comforting even if she was still grinning.

"A-Hong." When she peeked out from between her fingers, her uncle was leaning toward her, serious. "Are you sure about this?"

"I didn't mean to," she said, voice smaller than she'd quite like. "It just happened! When we talked, she smiled at me, and I just... And she liked my ideas, and she's never treated me like a lesser threat or went easy on me, even when she's so strong, Uncle, and—"

"All right, all right." Her uncle was rubbing his forehead, and Zhu Hong chewed on her lip some more. "When you spoke," he said, at last, "she truly wasnâ€™t just toying with you?"

"I asked about what she had lost." Zhu Hong looked down at her hands. "About what had hurt her. And she told me. She didn't yell at me or insult me, even though she was so angry I could taste it. Instead she said I had good thoughts, that I was clever." Very softly, she finished, "She said maybe the branch judged us rightly."

Her uncle heaved a sigh and muttered something under his breath. Zhu Hong thought she caught the words "terrible taste" and bridled, but when he looked up he was smiling, even if it was crooked. "All right. No one has ever been able to change your mind, once you made it up. But think about the politics you're going to have to deal with, being the Chief Elder carrying on with one of the tribe's Elders."

Zhu Hong sat very still, eyes wide. "...oh." She hadn't thought of that. If the Chief Elder was known to favor one of the Elders who were under her, that... that could be bad, couldn't it? Favoritism. That could mean resentment, even people thinking Ya Qing had found a way to rule from behind Zhu Hong. Maybe if she was careful to be seen listening to the Elders of Snake and Flower? Or especially Flower, since she was a Snake herself, and she hadn't thought about that either...

"Here we are!" Ying Chun slipped back into her chair, followed by Ya Qing ducking through the door hanging in a rustle of silk and feathers. When she straightened, she looked straight at Zhu Hong, smiling faintly, and her eyes were warm.

"You keep your word, it seems. I like that, too."

Zhu Hong smiled back, helplessly, feeling like she was floating in a cloud of happy warmth that made it easy to ignore her uncle rolling his eyes and Ying Chun stifling laughter.

She'd figure something out.

Now

The second letter was from one of the patrol liaisons, which soothed Zhu Hong's temper a little. That, at least, was something that was supposed to come to her eyes. This time, it was from one of the more adventuresome young Flower men, who seemed to be picking up his police-partner's attitudes quickly. The letter read like an incident report, especially the part about the two Crows in his neighborhood who had had a "domestic disturbance" that annoyed the neighbors. Zhu Hong smiled over that part.

Who'd have thought, a year ago, that two Yashou shifting on the street, especially to have a fight, would be called something so common by the humans around them? The Crow tribe did seem to have a knack for that making that change happen, though.

Then

Zhu Hong had thought that things would move slowly. That there might be lingering glances, and perhaps gradually sitting closer at meetings of the Elders, and possibly even a visit to her home if she were out on the balcony or roof.

Instead she got Da Qing tearing through the offices just as everyone was packing up for the day, nearly yelling, "Ya Qing is out front!"

The new staff jumped, and lao-Chu stood slowly, eyes narrowed, and xiao-Guo started chewing on his lip, and Zhu Hong realized abruptly that she hadn't told her co-workers anything about recent events except that she was working on improving Yashou-human relations.

"Stop!" Everyone turned to look at her, but at least no one was reaching for a weapon or for his power any more. Zhu Hong heaved a quick sigh of relief and let her outstretched hand drop. "It's not... I mean... Look, just let me handle this, all right?"

"Are you sure?" Da Qing demanded, actually looking serious for once.

"Yes, I'm sure." She spun on her heel and marched out to the front door. The new staff, at least, stayed where they were, but Da Qing crowded after her and lao-Chu was sauntering after him. Zhu Hong could tell already this was probably going to be embarrassing. She wasn't used to doing things she needed to keep others informed of!

Ya Qing was across the street, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and a sharp quirk to her lips, and Zhu Hong supposed Da Qing could be excused for thinking her threatening. But Zhu Hong could see the brightness of amusement in those dark eyes as they raked over the small crowd on the SID's steps. She elbowed Da Qing back and stepped forward, hands clasped to keep from fidgeting.

"Elder. Was there something you wished from the SID?" She did her best to sound dignified, but the way Ya Qing's mouth curled up made her heart skip a beat.

"Indeed, I think there is." Ya Qing pushed away from the wall and strolled closer. "Perhaps later for that, though." A wave of tingles ran over Zhu Hong when she caught the implication, and Ya Qing's smile got a little wider. "For now, I simply wished to see my High Elder safely home for the day."

Da Qing looked quickly back and forth between them. "Wait a minute. You came just to walk her home?" He started to grin, and dodged back when Zhu Hong tried to grind her heel into his toe.

"Did something happen?" Lao-Chu, thankfully, was looking more thoughtful, though there was a definite sardonic tilt to his brows that Zhu Hong ignored with all her might.

Ya Qing flicked dismissive fingers. "A few of my people are having difficulty moving with the times."

Zhu Hong's eyes widened, but the flash of worry that the Crow tribe might not accept the compromise the Elders had reached ran straight into the realization that Ya Qing had come to protect her, and drowned there. "Oh," she managed softly, hands clasping on each other tighter.

Laughter flashed in Ya Qing's dark eyes again. "So go get your things, and I'll walk you home."

"Yes." Zhu Hong barely noticed Da Qing's snickering. "I'll... yes." Lao-Chu was rolling his eyes when she turned around, and she glared at him. It wasn't like he had any room at all to talk, not with xiao-Guo draped over his shoulder, now giving Zhu Hong his brightest puppy-dog smile as she stalked past to grab her shoulder-bag.

"Have a good night," Da Qing prodded as she passed, and skipped back with a laugh when she hissed at him.

There was a definite smirk tucked up at the corners of Ya Qing's mouth, and she ushered Zhu Hong down the last step with a hand just barely touching her back. Zhu Hong tried not to blush and failed completely. As they walked, though, and Ya Qing let the quiet deepen between them, Zhu Hong felt herself relax into the ease of it. Ya Qing walked close to her, and her arm curved behind Zhu Hong once or twice when they turned a corner, but it wasn't teasing any more. Just... nice. Protective, but quietly, not the overbearing way her older cousins tended to these days.

"Do you think there will really be trouble?" Zhu Hong asked as they turned down her street.

"Possible, but not likely." Ya Qing cast a sharp eye over the rooflines of Zhu Hong's block and nodded, looking satisfied.

"Why did you come, then?" Zhu Hong dared to ask, eyes fixed on her keys as she sorted out the one for the front door. A sidelong glance showed Ya Qing's smile getting that teasing curl to it again.

"I did wish to see you home safe. You've shown yourself a reasonable and intelligent person, as we've planned the Yashou's revelation, and I want to encourage that." She reached out and set a finger under Zhu Hong's chin, lifting her head. Zhu Hong fumbled her keys with a tiny gasp as a thrill of excitement ran through her. "I also simply wished to walk with you. Would you prefer I didn't?"

It took Zhu Hong a moment to find words again. "No, I..." she swallowed and dared, "I liked walking with you." The knowledge that she walked in Ya Qing's protection had made her feel warm, all the way home. Even Ya Qingâ€™s teasing fit in so well with the way the SID teased each other all the time that it made Zhu Hong's heart turn over at how easy it felt.

Ya Qing's teasing smile melted into a deeper, quieter warmth. "Then perhaps I'll come to walk you home again."

Zhu Hong wet her lips, intensely aware of the gloved finger resting under her chin. Her voice came out soft and breathless when she said, "I'd like that."

"Then I will make sure it happens." Ya Qing stepped closer, and Zhu Hong's eyes went wide, lips already parted on a quick breath when Ya Qing leaned in and brushed the lightest of kisses over them. "Sleep well," she murmured, as she drew back, and was gone into the shadows of the evening before Zhu Hong could even squeak.

Zhu Hong took a deep breath and found her key again. She walked steadily up to her apartment and let herself in, locking the door carefully behind her. She set her bag down and sat composedly on the couch.

And then she covered her face with her hands and squeaked.

Now

Their rapidly assimilating Flower patroller had added a post-script asking if he could double up with a friend, who he thought would work well with his current police partner. Zhu Hong chewed on her lower lip as she thought. It would be a good thing, if a trusted partner could introduce the next one in line, but would it be seen as unfair? Not all Yashou wanted to try out a human partner, by any means, but among those who did the competition for who would get to learn human-style policing next was pretty stiff.

Or perhaps this was exactly the gesture she needed, to make sure the Flower tribe felt equally treated? That had been getting to be more of an issue, she knew, ever since...

Well, it had been getting to be more of an issue.

Zhu Hong kept her head bent over her desk as she wrote a note to herself to discuss it with Ying Chun, privately. Less chance of lao-Chu or Da Qing noticing how she was blushing, that way.

Then

Zhu Hong was glad the series of attacks the SID had been called to look into weren't actually the doing of a Dixingren. She was glad they didn't have to subdue someone with the kind of power a Dixingren might have, and even more glad they didn't have to try to figure out what to do with the man after since there was no Black-cloaked Envoy to hand him over to any more.

With her growing political awareness, she was entirely sure that the human Minister was even more glad to not be faced with that question.

But, while it meant that she and Da Qing had not cornered a Dixingren in a blind alley, it did mean she and Da Qing had cornered a crazed human with metal claws of some kind strapped to his hands. One who had attacked three women with them, and was staring at Zhu Hong with a mad, fixed gaze.

"We'll be all right," Da Qing muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "If he charges you, can you push him back? I'll jump on him while he's open."

Zhu Hong sucked in a deep breath, ignoring how it shook, and nodded sharply. She could do this. She could. She'd kept up her training, and she could hold off even other Yashou most of the time. Claws wouldn't be a problem.

The man smiled nastily at her, and she tensed.

The moment he stepped towards her, though, black fell out of the sky like the shadow of lightning, bursting between them in a swirl of power and feathers. Six black feathers shot forward and pinned the man to the brick behind him by his jacket.

"You dare." Ya Qing's voice was low, but cut through the man's shout of outrage like a knife. Another handful of feathers hovered over her outstretched hand, gleaming and sharp. "You dare raise your hand to her?"

All of Zhu Hong's coiled tension unwound in a soft shock of warmth. "Qing-jie," she whispered.

Ya Qing glanced over her shoulder, eyes raking up and down Zhu Hong. "You're well. Good." She flicked her fingers, and the hovering feathers nailed a few more handfuls of cloth to the brick, pinning the struggling man more firmly. "I suppose I'll refrain from killing him, then."

"Yeah," Da Qing put in slowly. "We do kind of try to do that."

Ya Qing sniffed. "Make yourself useful then, Cat, and take care of him."

Muttering under his breath about bossy birds, Da Qing edged wide around her and went to clout the man smartly, like a cat stunning a mouse it wanted to play with. Ya Qing watched closely until the man was zip tied at wrists and ankles, and finally sighed, relaxing with a shake of her shoulders that resettled her feathers. "You're our Chief Elder," she scolded Zhu Hong, coming to take her shoulders and look her over more closely. "You should be better guarded than this, when you're out working."

"I can take care of myself," Zhu Hong protested, though not as strongly as she might have. "And there are so few of us who can do field-work at all..."

On his way back past them, phone out and lifted to catch some reception, Da Qing paused and took a second sniff. A smirk spread slowly over his face. "Once a princess, always a princess, I guess. You liked being rescued, didn't you?"

Zhu Hong delivered a swift kick to his ankle and hissed when he hopped away, still laughing. She couldn't meet Ya Qing's eyes.

Until lace-gloved fingers caught her chin and turned her face back. Qing-jie was smiling. "Did you, then?"

"Only because it's you," Zhu Hong said, caught in those dark, laughing eyes, and then blushed harder when she realized what she'd admitted.

"I'm glad," Qing-jie murmured, just between the two of them, stepping closer. "Perhaps I shall watch over you myself, then."

Zhu Hong wet her lips and reached slowly out to tuck her hands under Qing-jie's cloak, around her waist. "That would take up a lot of your time, though, wouldn't it?" Not that she was actually protesting, just... trying to be a little bit responsible.

"Time spent guarding our Chief Elder would not be wasted." Qing-jie's thumb traced just below the curve of Zhu Hong's mouth, and her lips parted on a soft gasp for breath as her heart tripped. "Time guarding you would not be wasted." She closed the last centimeters between them, and Zhu Hong melted into the kiss, dizzy with the heat of knowing this magnificent, powerful woman wished to protect her, to hold her safe—and yet would not stand between Zhu Hong and her chosen work.

It felt so sweet.

When Qing-jie let her go, Zhu Hong pressed closer for a moment, snuggling against her just for one breath before she drew back and stood on her own feet. Qing-jie's smile was warm and proud, and Zhu Hong smiled back shyly.

"Tell me, when you go out on work." Qing-jie smoothed a lock of Zhu Hong's hair back. "And I will watch over you."

Zhu Hong ducked her head and promised, "I will."

"Then I will see you tonight." Qing-jie's voice was soft with a promise of her own, and the warmth of it lingered even after she vanished back into the sky in a rush of wings.

"So, is it safe to look yet?" Da Qing called from the entrance of the alley.

"Shut up," Zhu Hong snapped, brushing her blouse straight with brisk hands. "How long until someone comes to take him off our hands?"

Tonight couldn't come fast enough, for her.

Now

Zhu Hong jotted down another note to herself to ask Ying Chun to send a small thank-you to her tribesman's human partner. The man seemed to be getting along well with Yashou in general, and she wanted to encourage that as often as possible. She added a note at the bottom to ask Qing-jie to make certain someone spoke to the Crow couple. Relatable squabbles were one thing, but a serious fight in the streets would only set matters back.

And then she doodled the characters of Qing-jie's name in the fanciest style she knew, smiling over them until she caught lao-Chu smirking from two desks away. She scowled at him and folded the note up.

She'd keep the SID up to date on Yashou affairs that might land on their desks, but what she felt about Qing-jie was nobody's business but her own.

Even if it did tend to overlap with her official business an awful lot.

Then

It had taken months of planning, and then another month of concerted arguing with one after another administrative assistant to the new Minister, but Zhu Hong had finally done it. There was a new treaty document written out, and it was going to be signed on Yashou territory.

She stood in the back room of her uncle's house, examining her makeup and twitching her flowing black vest into place and trying not to hyperventilate.

"Calm yourself, Hong-er." Qing-jie's hands slid over her shoulders from behind. "Haven't the tribes all agreed to this? Even the old hold-outs?"

Zhu Hong took another quick breath. "Yes."

"And hasn't the human Ministry agreed to our draft? Hasn't their Director of Administration spoken in favor of the patrol liaisons?"

Zhu Hong nodded at her reflection, breathing a little slower. "Yes."

Qing-jie leaned against her back, warm and light, and purred in her ear, "Wouldn't your uncle squawk, if I kissed you right here?"

Zhu Hong burst into helpless giggles. "Qing-jie!"

She could hear the smile in Qing-jie's voice. "Hmm?"

Zhu Hong took a breath and let it out, feeling her shoulders drop under Qing-jie's hands. "Yes." She turned and wound her arms around Qing-jie, holding tight and feeling the strength of Qing-jie's arms around her, and then leaned back. "I'll be all right. You go ahead."

She'd learned not to arrive with Qing-jie, not to meetings with other Yashou, the same way she'd learned to be careful what she ate in front of humans and to restrain her hiss when she was surprised or angry. She didn't like it any better, but at least it was for a better reason. She didn't want the tribes to doubt that she was keeping everyone in mind, not just Qing-jie, that she was doing her best as Chief Elder.

And Qing-jie smiled at her approvingly for it, and touched her cheek gently. "That's our thoughtful little serpent. I'll go argue with the other two about where we'll hold the next market." She did kiss Zhu Hong, then, but light and swift, and was gone with a rustle of feathers.

When Zhu Hong ducked out of her uncle's house, the three Elders were indeed arguing, around his small table. Zhu Hong gave Qing-jie a narrow look and snorted at her lover's tiny smile; yes, Qing-jie had done it on purpose. Well all right, then.

"The three of you must have been arguing for decades," she declared. "Aren't you tired of it, yet?"

All three of them laughed, which made her think Qing-jie wasn't the only one trying to tease her back to calm. Zhu Hong took a breath and came to stand beside the table, straight and sure, and finally spoke the words officially.

â€œAs your leader," and then she looked at Qing-jie's smile and couldn't help teasing back, "she who had a crush on the Lord Guardian and competed against the Black-cloaked Envoy," Qing-jie and Ying Chun both snickered, and even her uncle's mouth tugged into a smile. "I've taken time on my day off to come here in order to host an important meeting, you know. It's not like it's easy, with two jobs!" Qing-jie gave her an indulgent smile, and Zhu Hong laughed a little herself.

"All right, a-Hong," her uncle started, and she glowered, "yes, yes, Chief Elder," he amended, patting the air with mollifying hands. "Our mistake. It's your turn; go ahead."

Zhu Hong sniffed, arms folded. "That's more like it." She took a deep breath and stood straight again. "My charge to our tribes is this: we will seek peace and pursue development through internal reforms and exchange of ideas with other peoples." She lifted a hand as if escorting a new age in. "Let the first convention we will host begin!"

They all applauded, good natured, as Zhu Hong heard the first crunch of human footsteps through the old leaves that carpeted the forest ground. She wound her hands tight together, nerves leaping up again. The brush of lace-gloved fingers over her wrist made her look down to find Qing-jie looking up at her. In that steady gaze Zhu Hong saw both ferocious determination and a quiet faith that made the whole world stand still around her for one second.

Including her nerves.

Zhu Hong smiled, soft and small with her thanks, and lifted her chin to step forward and greet Minister Guo for the first time as an equal, feeling the whole weight of the tribes behind her, pushing her forward. If she didn't know all of how to carry that weight, yet, she would learn.

Her Elders would teach her.

Now

The third letter was a demand that the Chief Elder mediate an inheritance dispute.

Over a cloak pin.

Zhu Hong finally gave up and groaned out loud, flopping down across her desk in despair, and never mind how Da Qing would undoubtedly laugh at her. No matter how much she ignored or schemed or yelled, these just would not stop coming. Letters asking her to fix family affairs. Letters asking her to solve a quarrel with a spouse. Letters asking her to tell someone's child to straighten up. Did she look like some kind of avatar of the heavens, here to solve everyone's personal problems? No! But the letters wouldn't stop.

"Does someone want you to solve their love life?"

Zhu Hong sat bolt upright, staring, because that had sounded like...

And it was, in fact, Shen Wei, who had paused by her desk on his way past and whose mouth was quirked in a tiny, commiserating smile.

Zhu Hong tried to wrap her mind around the idea that, apparently, some Dixingren buttonholed the Black-cloaked Envoy with this same kind of nonsense, and felt her eyes trying to cross. "You... I mean, they really...?" she asked weakly, waving the letter.

"The Regent takes a certain pleasure in saving them for me," he said, dry. "If you wish to learn from my mistakes, just ignore them all with as much dignity as you can manage."

She looked up at him, caught by the implication that he had ever been in her position—a young ruler, maybe not consulted all that much about what he really wanted, trying to learn how to do right by his people anyway. And she heard again the words Qing-jie had murmured in her ear, one evening as they lay together, talk meandering through Yashou into Dixing politics.

"I didn't learn as much as I would like, from Ye Zun, but one thing he said repeatedly. That Shen Wei had never wanted to be his people's ruler. That he only did it because of Kunlun. So I think it must be true that that's how the Envoy began. But I watched what he did all last year, too. He has a short temper, and little mercy for enemies, but for his own... for his own, he can show great compassion. He loves his people, now, in his own way." Qing-jie stroked her fingers gently through Zhu Hong's hair. "I respected that. In the end, I wished it had been him I went to, listened to." She'd leaned up on an elbow, smiling down at Zhu Hong. "And more than that, I wish you could have known more of him and his experience, now that you've taken on such great responsibilities."

Zhu Hong had curled closer and admitted, softly, "So do I. He... he was kind to me. Even when I was being foolish and jealous, he was kind. I wish I could ask him things, sometimes."

And now here he was, offering that experience freely.

Zhu Hong's eyes fell from the level darkness of his. "Thank you..." Her gaze flickered up and down again before she could stop it, and she made herself take a breath and look back up to finish, "...Shen da-ge?"

She couldn't help ending on a question, unsure he would accept such familiarity. Would even want or understand the apology she was trying to give. There seemed to be so much age, so much time in the weight and quiet of his gaze.

After a long moment, though, he smiled faintly and lifted a hand to rest on her head. "You're welcome."

Zhu Hong broke into a relieved smile, ducking her head under his hand, shy and pleased.

She could feel lao-Chu smirking from two desks over, and tossed him a glare as Shen Wei turned away toward the Chief's office. Lao-Chu looked irritatingly smug. "I told you," he said. "Didn't I tell you?"

"Oh shut up," Zhu Hong huffed, turning back to her own screen for a report to finish or something. The office already had a fan of the Envoy, it wasn't like she needed to add anything there.

She was going to tell Qing-jie, though, when she came to pick Zhu Hong up tonight. She thought Qing-jie would approve.

Zhu Hong was smiling as she tucked the last letter away and opened her files.

End