Rain on the Mountain

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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://alltrees.org/archive/).

Published on 2008-11-13 17:47:47.

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

This ebook edition was published on May 16, 2012 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Rain on the Mountain

TYL Hibari and Yamamoto in a tranquil moment. Kind-of Romance, I-3

Feet move softly over the mats of his private rooms, and he listens to them come, leaning in the open screens and looking out onto his small, private garden. Moonlight filters down through illusion and glimmers on leaves. The chill of the evening curls around the warmth of the sake cup in his fingers, a pleasing contrast.

Long hands slide over his shoulders and down his arms, and the heat of another body settles against his back. Lips brush his throat, just above the collar of his kimono where a drop of water from his wet hair is making its way down his neck, and a husky voice murmurs, "That was a good fight."

He smiles out into the stark lines of the night and leans back against Yamamoto, relaxed in the aftermath of shared intensity. "It was." It probably wasn't entirely suitable to interrupt kata, but he hadn't been able to resist and Yamamoto didn't seem to mind.

He lets Yamamoto's arms rest around his waist, the same intimacy as a razor edge screaming against his steel, both pure and clean. It's only Yamamoto whose ferocity is this clean, and he savors it the way he does the sake.

Perhaps, he thinks as Yamamoto kisses his throat again, coaxing and inviting, perhaps tonight he will see if that ferocity tastes as good elsewhere as it does when they fight.

End