Disclaimer: Issei, Jinpachi, Alice, Rin, Haruhiko, Sakura, Daisuke and any
other lives they might have lived on any particular satellite do not belong
to me. They belong to the wonderful lady who invented _Boku no Chikyuu wo
Mamotte_. I merely borrowed them, cheered them a bit, and set them back on
the shelf with little or no damage done. ^_^ I'm not getting paid for this,
and suing me would get you the complete contents of my wallet, which at the
moment is less than a dollar and a card proclaiming my expired membership
in the Tucson Anime Screening Society. Oh, and my shockingly ugly college
ID. So it's really not worth it. ::endearing grin::
For a dead man, Gyokulan was startlingly thoughtful.
It disturbed Jinpachi sometimes, to see pieces of himself that he could identify positively as Gyokulan surface like ice bobbing in the ocean. But they were his pieces as well as the scientist's, and as soon as they appeared he could set them into place in his own self, Jinpachi's self, and go on living.
It was still weird, though.
Cold wind ruffled his hair. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing out this late, nor what he thought he'd accomplish by mulling over his reincarnation again and again. So far, it hadn't helped him any more than it had in the beginning, when they were just bizarre dreams to be drawn out and discussed with Issei. Jinpachi had always been all for figuring out the entire story, who was who and who did what and everything else that happened up there on the moon—but there came a point beyond which none of it seemed to really matter anymore. The soap opera that had played out up there in the research station was just that. A soap opera. Unreal, with no connection to here and now.
Well, that wasn't quite true, Jinpachi remembered with a wince. Some of their former incarnations had made their presence known quite forcefully at times. Haruhiko had been stricken with more guilt than anyone should ever have to feel in both lifetimes, never mind just this one. Rin—Shion—was doomed to be frustrated in a thousand million ways, at least until his body grew to finally match his mind. And Issei—
Tch. Forget it. Jinpachi leaned his elbows on the railing and hung his head. He had terminally mixed feelings about this spot, too. It had been months since they'd all decided just to forget about it, go on with their everyday lives, and he could still remember clear as a bell the day he and Issei had stood out here and Issei had told Jinpachi that he had a lot of nerve complaining about his romantic problems to him. And before Jinpachi had quite processed who was really talking and why she—she—was so upset, Issei's clear, pale eyes had filled with sadness and something less identifiable, and Issei—
Will you stop that! He thudded his hand against the railing, making it ring, and the sharp pain brought him back from the rushing tide of anger, directed mostly at himself. Things never had been quite the same between himself and Issei after that, though Issei had done his utmost to slap a patch on their relationship to make Jinpachi happy again. In a way, it was a very valiant thing to do; Issei—Enju—would rather be miserable himself—herself—than see Jinpachi uncomfortable.
And in another, more insidious way, it made Jinpachi feel like a complete snake for, at the very least, not being gentler and more elegant in the way he'd handled things. Shoving Issei away and wiping his mouth off was probably not the best way to explain that he'd rather it not happen again.
Why he'd rather it not happen again, Jinpachi never had quite figured out. The main reason at that point had been Alice, but things had never really mended between the two of them either. Alice was thoroughly spooked by the whole idea of being the reincarnation of some girl from another planet, even after she'd seemed to accept it, and not at all ready to believe well of herself after Rin's accident. And once she was prepared to believe, all Jinpachi's chances had been shot to hell; Mokulen had loved Shion.
Jinpachi was not Shion. Jinpachi was Gyokulan, and Mokulen had never even given Gyokulan a second thought, at least not in that way. Had Alice found Shion's unfortunate seven year deficit too much to handle, her second choice was more likely Haruhiko—Shukaido—if Jinpachi tried for her hand again, everything was likely to get all screwed up and....
His thoughts trailed off into incomprehensibility. He and Alice were still friends, at least. He and Issei were still friends too, so far as he knew. Rin was ill-tempered as a teenager but Alice seemed to be keeping him in check. He spoke to the rest of them on occasion, too.
So everything was fine, right?
Jinpachi grit his teeth and sighed, tilting his head back to look at the stars. It was a beautiful night.
He still had no idea why he was out here.
This is the night Gyokulan died.
Issei shivered every time he thought that. He wondered if Jinpachi knew it, too; from his point of view, it was difficult to miss, hanging in the air like the very scent of sadness, but then again, Enju-chan had been telepathic and very close to Gyokulan at the time of his death. Realistically—probably—no one else had any idea.
Issei couldn't sleep. Had tried, failed, gotten dressed again and gone out for a walk. It wasn't helping. This night was just... it hurt, because he couldn't stop thinking about Enju and Gyokulan and himself and Jinpachi, and every thought made his chest tighten painfully, twisting his heart like a wet dishrag beneath his ribs. Issei looked down at his own hands and found them pale and trembling; he used them to scrub uselessly at his face and then shoved them into his pockets.
He felt so empty he could cry.
In a perfect world, it wouldn't have been the mess it was. If Fate had been paying attention, Rin would have been the same age as Alice from the beginning and that would have worked out; if Fate had been kind, Haruhiko wouldn't have a weak heart and a severe karmic complex stemming from what he'd done to Shion in another life. And if Issei had had just a little more self-control, he wouldn't be in serious doubt over whether Jinpachi would ever speak to him again in the sort of confidence he used to, sharing his dreams, thoughts and feelings.
Issei had cursed himself up and down and left and right and sideways from the moment he'd lost his grip on things—but once he'd started, he could hardly seem to stop himself. The words came without warning and without check, hinting, then telling, and then his hand had risen by itself to land on the breast of Jinpachi's shirt... Jinpachi hadn't said stop. He hadn't. But his eyes had been screaming oh—my—god and Issei hadn't been able to make himself halt and he would regret that for all eternity, no matter how many lives he lived. The kiss was stolen and worthless and Issei wished with all his heart to take it back and have at least Jinpachi's companionship again.
Groundless hope was better than shattered dreams.
Issei's eyes stung miserably and he choked on his next breath. He'd been stupid to think Jinpachi would even humor him in this. Jinpachi was so much better at this than he was, able to take reincarnation and feelings of another life and to lay them smoothly down behind him to be normal again. But Issei... Issei couldn't let go. Deep down in his heart, locked carefully away where it couldn't escape to hurt anyone again, was a deep love, a deep and eternal and consuming love of Jinpachi—of Gyokulan—of that soul, whatever it's name. The burning need to be near him, to hear his voice and to sense him close at hand... and the searing pain when he couldn't stay close, when Jinpachi—
Pushed him away.
Silent tears escaped and trailed like liquid fire down Issei's cheeks, his feet stilling. That had hurt most of all, being shoved aside and stared at in shock, with confusion and fear showing plain on Jinpachi's face, in his eyes. The realization that Jinpachi had only stood still for it for as long as it took him to get enough stray thoughts together to end the experience. The kiss.
And tonight, it hurts even worse. Tonight is the anniversary of Gyokulan's death, and it makes me think... what if Jinpachi... before I have a chance to tell him what I really feel... and why....
Issei pulled up a trembling hand and flicked the tears off his face, hot drops that glittered a moment in the moonlight before disappearing in their flight. Get a hold of yourself, Issei. Crying will not do you any good. He took a deep breath, as deep as he could manage with his ribs constricting notch by notch around his heart, and willed the tears away. As he figured it, he had two choices now: he could keep walking, possibly find someplace to stop wandering before he got completely lost, or he could go home and go back to bed, lying there until sleep overtook him or morning came.
With a soft, sorrowful sigh, Issei turned in the first direction that came to his mind and began to walk.
What time is it? thought Jinpachi. He'd look at his watch, but it was too dark to read it. Not that it mattered much, anyway; whether it was nine p.m. or three a.m., he didn't feel like going in. He didn't feel much like anything, to be honest—just disturbed and somewhat sad, and entirely unlike sleeping.
He still didn't know why he was out here. Out here in particular; being out at this railing was not helping his state of mind. Closing his eyes only brought a picture of Issei's pale face wearing that look, the one that sent crawling chills up his spine and at the same time made him feel so strongly, desperately needed, and the feel of Issei's hand laid ever so softly on his chest just before—
Jinpachi grimaced. Why can't I ever finish that thought? It wasn't... the worst thing that had ever happened to him.... And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it had taken a lot of courage on Issei's part to do it. And a lot of raw feeling. It was, he supposed, flattering and maybe even gratifying to know that Enju-chan still felt that way about him.
And very disconcerting when Enju felt that way about him wearing Issei's body.
Just for a moment, Jinpachi wondered what it would have been like if Enju had come back as a woman. Would he still have fought so spectacularly? Even when he thought he had Alice? He imagined Issei's eyes, bright and clear, set in a more delicate face, with longer hair.... It wouldn't take much, he realized with a start. Issei's face was pale and slender to begin with; if he'd been born a girl, he would have been a pretty one. And if that girl had kissed him....
Jinpachi blew a sigh and flopped backwards, spreading his arms straight out to lean his neck and shoulders back against the rail. The stars glittered like strings of diamond beads, reminding him that Gyokulan had stared out at the same spectacular stellar display once upon a time, from a different, distant spot. So had Enju.
What would have happened, he thought, slowly and very clearly, the words picking their way gingerly through his mind, if I hadn't pushed him away?
Jinpachi hadn't an answer for himself.
He closed his eyes, letting the images of Issei's face come to him but banishing the other thoughts to give himself some momentary peace. He floated, blank, in the night for a while, wind ruffling his caramel hair and white shirt, until he became aware that the quiet footfalls he was hearing were not the scuffings of his own feet. Curious, he raised his head and opened his eyes, turning to the noise, and saw—
Issei raised his eyes momentarily, suddenly aware someone else was in the area, then dropped his head again, speechless, when he saw who it was. His feet faltered, touching uncertainly to earth before he shook his head and started to turn.
"Issei---" Jinpachi held one hand out as if to stop his friend. If he wanted—if he had any control—he probably could stop Issei from where he was standing, just pick him up so his shoes didn't touch the pavement and leave him hovering so he couldn't get away. That was something else he had inherited from Gyokulan.
"Jinpachi." Issei's voice was quiet and rough. Jinpachi squinted in the low light and thought he could make out red rings around the young man's eyes.
Had Issei been... crying?
Jinpachi cleared his throat. "Haven't seen you in a few days. What're you doing out this late?"
Issei looked at him oddly, pale blue eyes turned all sorts of reflected colors in the moonlight, picking up glints of hue from anything near them. "So you don't know."
"No," said Jinpachi slowly.
Hesitantly, as if Jinpachi might move to strike him, Issei came forward and settled nervously on the rail next to his friend. His eyes roamed the scene before him, wandering occasionally as far as the hands Jinpachi was leaning on, but never up to his face. "Tonight is the night Gyokulan died," he said.
Jinpachi sucked in a breath, that feeling of simultaneous déjà vu and certainty slamming heavily into his mind. It was a sensation familiar to him, and yet it took him off guard every time it happened.
"—Jinpachi?"
Jinpachi shook his head, throwing off the slight mental disorientation. "You're right," he said softly. "I died tonight. Weird."
"Are... are you okay?"
Leaning his elbows on the metal rail again, Jinpachi slumped over them. "Yeah. It's almost more a relief than an upsetting thing... I couldn't figure out why I couldn't get to sleep. Now I know."
Issei seemed to relax a bit. "That's all right, then. So, how's Alice?" he asked, changing the subject. "I haven't seen her for a while, since we were put in separate homerooms again."
"Fine, I guess," said Jinpachi, shaking his head. "I haven't seen her much, either."
"Oh?" Issei blinked. "I thought you and she...."
"No."
"Ah."
They stood together in silence for a minute or two, slightly strained but not very; they had been friends too long not to know, at the very least, when it was all right to keep yourself to yourself. But in time, Issei started to fidget quietly, and Jinpachi wondered for a moment what had gotten into him. Then Issei suddenly turned his head and Jinpachi knew.
Issei was fighting back tears.
"Jinpachi, I'm so sorry," he blurted, lower lip trembling. Then he looked away again, struggling and failing to keep his emotions in check.
"Huh? For what?"
"For—for the last time we were out here." Issei bit the trembling lip still and seemed nearly to collapse into himself, deflating over the elbows he had propped on the metal pipe.
Huh? Jinpachi's mind went racing backwards and it suddenly occurred to him that the two of them hadn't hung out up here since... it... had happened.
Oh.
"Issei...."
"I didn't mean to hurt you, Jinpachi, I didn't mean to confuse you or frighten you or anything like that... I didn't mean to lose control. I swear." Issei's voice was muffled by his mortified little crunch and was getting softer and softer by the second.
"Issei—"
"I never would have done it if I'd been thinking, Jinpachi. You loved Mokulen and didn't need that from me... You never said stop, but I could see it in your eyes and it didn't register in time and I wouldn't stop—Jinpachi, I'm sorry."
"Issei!"
Issei drew a deep breath and brought his face up hesitantly, pale lips compressed into an even paler line. "I'm sorry...."
Now that Jinpachi had his friend's attention, he found he'd completely neglected to come up with anything to say after 'Issei'. "It was a long time ago," he finally managed. "Forget it."
"A-all right. If you say so," Issei responded, ducking his head again swiftly—but not before something flashed in his eyes.
Normally, Jinpachi had to be hit in the head with a revelation the size of a cinder block before major changes in personal relationships became clear to him. Issei had gone so far as to kiss him once, and it still hadn't stuck. But there was something in his broken posture now, something very small and very sad but perfectly willing to do whatever Jinpachi said if Jinpachi thought it would make everything right....
That was not a sign the size of a cinder block. That was a sign about the size of a commuter train, travelling at seventy miles an hour. Even Jinpachi couldn't miss it—and it hurt.
No matter how much he loved Alice—and he wasn't so sure now that he did, not after being away from her for so long, not after seeing her with Rin/Shion—Enju-chan's new life did not deserve to be marred by this.
"Issei," he said quietly, one more time. Issei steeled himself, visibly, and Jinpachi wondered if he knew how much it showed. "You don't want to forget it, do you?"
Issei's head jerked once, before he caught himself and calmed down to look Jinpachi in the eye. "I will if I get to keep you." He flushed deeply, blood rushing almost maroon beneath his pale skin. "I-I know it sounds selfish, but I don't want to lose you as a friend over something so... so stupid."
Jinpachi thought back to how it had felt when he first realized he loved Alice. How he had to smile whenever she came anywhere near him. The tumbling sensation that filled his body when she spoke. The way his mind wandered away to daydreams of her and the way his hands shook when he made up his mind to tell her.
And then he thought back to everything he remembered of Gyokulan and Enju. And the same fleeting snatches of being giddy and warm and totally secure in her arms.
Jinpachi made a noise something like 'hnh' and shuffled his foot uncomfortably. "'Snot all that stupid."
Issei stopped breathing.
Kicking idly at one of the bars in the railing, Jinpachi let the quiet go on until he couldn't stand it anymore and had to say something else. Anything else.
"For what it's worth, Issei, it wasn't..." Jinpachi cleared his throat and felt a dark flush creeping up his own neck and crawling into his cheeks. It didn't show on him anywhere near as much as it did on poor Issei, but it felt hot and uncomfortable. He had never been any good at this stuff. "It wasn't... all that bad... either...."
Issei breathed a small sigh, shoulders slumping slightly from their too-tense position. Amazingly enough, there was a tentative smile on his face—not a happy smile, to be sure, but it was a better reaction than trying to draw blood from his own lip like he had been. "But you wanted me to stop, and I didn't. I could see it in your eyes. I'll never forgive myself for that."
"In my eyes, huh? You're so sure?"
Issei looked at him sadly—and, Sahjareem, those eyes were suffering. "Very sure," he whispered, shame creeping into his voice.
"Tch. Nice trick. I still don't know what I want. Good thing you're here to tell me."
Surprise flared on Issei's face, igniting a faint spark of hope in his darkening blue irises and trying to quench it just as quickly. "Jinpachi...?"
"I haven't talked to Alice in two months, Issei. I think she's trying to get me to go away real quiet-like." And he knew why, too—that little trip to the moon had cleared up the matter of who was really Shion pretty quick. Not everyone was happy about the news, but Alice took it remarkably well, considering how long Rin had been lying to her. Sakura had tugged Jinpachi gently aside and suggested that might have been because Mokulen had chosen wild Shion a lifetime ago and wasn't about to change her mind.
Issei said nothing, not even trusting himself to offer condolences.
"All that time I spent chasing her—all that time everyone spent chasing her—poof, gone. I feel like such an idiot." He shifted the arm that was starting to fall asleep, and amended, "such a wounded idiot."
"You were going after your love," Issei said softly. "Foolishness doesn't matter."
"You weren't saying that a minute ago."
Issei looked away again. For Pete's sake, couldn't that boy keep from crying for two whole sentences? "I hurt you. It doesn't matter how I looked."
"Damn it, Issei," Jinpachi growled, slamming his hand into the metal rail again in frustration. The ringing felt good, sounded better; his temper would recede soon, but not before he got out what he wanted to, appearances be damned. "You did not hurt me. Did you leave any cuts? Bruises? I didn't feel any... I was just off in my own little world and not thinking at all, or I wouldn't have done what I did. You didn't leave any damn mental scars, so stop thinking that you did."
Issei was staring at him with wavering eyes, giving him a look that was a cross between convinced he was hallucinating and praying to whatever god was listening that Jinpachi would go on in the same vein. "Oh, Jinpachi..." he breathed. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that...."
He must have really been kicking himself over that night, Jinpachi mused. Poor kid.... "Eh. Maybe, maybe not." Jinpachi raised one forearm vertical and rested his head on his palm. "Sorry for dumping all the Alice crap on you. I know it upsets you."
Issei shrugged. "It's okay."
Jinpachi let a few finger-drumming minutes pass by again, trying to sort out what, exactly, he was thinking. He still thought of Alice frequently, wondering what he'd say if she ever started talking to him again, but he thought of Rin afterwards and it sent a sharp twinge through his gut and right out the other side. It was almost like that was another life, as separate from right now as their previous selves on the moon... none of them were the same as they had been when they started together. Some had changed less than others, but they had all been altered.
He couldn't take this much longer....
"Issei, I've just been rambling on about how I haven't seen Alice in forever and how I think she's trying to give me the brush-off and you don't even look happy."
"I-I—" Issei opened his mouth to stutter and promptly shut it again. "Am I supposed to be?"
Aw, hell, Jinpachi thought. Wrong again. "I thought Enju-chan was still—but I guess—never mind. Guess I thought she wouldn't be so depressed." He shook his head, disgusted and thoroughly frustrated with himself. All the effort he could put forth and it was only screwing him up.
"Not 'her'," Issei broke in softly. "Not 'Enju-chan'. Me. I'm Nishikiori Issei now. And I am."
Jinpachi sucked in a breath and forgot to let it go. Being right was almost as nerve-wracking as being wrong. "You still don't look all that happy."
"Why should I be? You're hurting and it makes no difference in what I want. I thought you weren't—"
"I wasn't," Jinpachi said. He could feel that slow burn working its way across his cheekbones again; all he could do was pray it was too dark outside for Issei to see it. "I don't know if I am."
"Jinpachi...?" One word, one name, one question, just barely loud enough to hear.
"I might be dense, but I'm not stupid. Gyokulan had Enju once and lost her because he thought he wanted Mokulen more, and then he lost Mokulen too 'cause she didn't want him. I thought I had Alice for a little while, but she wasn't happy and she found her Shion again in the end. And every time I turned around, there you were, just starin' up at me, and I looked right past you. Even if I just expected you to stay my friend, that was dangerous and dumb."
"It's all right—" Issei started.
"The hell it is! It was about the dumbest thing I possibly could've done then, and now—" He hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to let his mouth run away with him, especially on a subject as important as this... but he had to admit, at least this time it was running in a direction that didn't make him want to take every single word back as soon as he'd said it. "Well, now it's still a stupid thing to do."
Turning toward him, staring at the rail beneath Jinpachi's hands, Issei formed his face into a reluctant but genuine smile. Jinpachi gave an internal sigh of relief; nothing had come back to bite him. Yet.
"It's good to know you still want me around," Issei said guardedly, selecting his words with care.
"I don't just want you around, Issei; I want you around and talking, and complaining, and calling me an idiot, and..." Watch your mouth, Jinpachi. "...and close."
Suddenly Issei pulled his gaze out of the void and Jinpachi was caught, eyes as desperate as those of a drowning man and as blue as the water he foundered in sought his and held on for dear life, barely steady. Issei stared at him for a long, long time, and Jinpachi imagined that he was using whatever of Enju's psychic skill remained to draw any meaning he could out of that one last word. All at once he felt this conversation slipping out of his control and dropping into the realm of the gods, where only Fate—or perhaps Sahjareem—could pick it up and save it.
"How do you mean that, Jinpachi?" asked Issei, slow and hoarse. "How much do you mean that?"
"I don't have the slightest clue," Jinpachi admitted. "But I do mean it."
Issei closed his eyes and turned his face to the wind, profile to Jinpachi, fair skin looking absolutely white in the light of the ancient moon. Jinpachi's gaze skimmed over Issei's ruffle of dark hair, the brush of charcoal lashes on his cheeks, and he wondered how Issei could look so much like a girl and so much not. In part, he thought it might be the way Issei moved, particularly since he'd begun discovering the truth of the moon dreams, with silence and long-legged grace. Again, almost feminine, but not quite; just quiet, and gentle.
Then again, Jinpachi'd also seen Issei throw a killer punch since he'd realized he was Enju-chan. That hadn't looked too bad, either.
The rosy flush started to burn his face again and Jinpachi kicked himself for it. Tch. Stupid. Listen to what's been coming out of your mouth—and you pick now to blush? No wonder his timing had always been awful. His rightful sense of public embarrassment had always been a step and a half behind his mouth.
Something nervous and surprisingly soft brushed against the back of Jinpachi's hand—Issei's fingers. Jinpachi blinked himself out of his thoughts to see one silver tear track down Issei's cheek, catching a single spark of light before rolling away into oblivion. Issei's warm palm settled momentarily onto his hand and Jinpachi's mind gibbered. This is okay, right? Just friends, just friendly still, right? it babbled, suddenly catapulted into hysteria—or giddiness—he didn't know what. But he couldn't shake Issei off, Issei had always been there and it wouldn't have been fair, and besides that it felt kinda reassuring.
"Thank you, Jinpachi," Issei said with that beatific smile—Enju's smile. The one that she'd used on Gyokulan to assure him that she was okay even when he was brushing her off to see Mokulen. Jinpachi cringed involuntarily to see it again, reminded uncomfortably of how badly he'd treated Issei in two entirely different lives. His thin fingers started to slip from the back of Jinpachi's still hand—
Jinpachi's other hand shot out and caught Issei's before it could move. Issei started and blinked, suddenly looking not at all like the happy martyr he had been.
"Issei, I'm the one who should be sorry. Really sorry. I'm a jerk," he added, as if it wasn't clear enough already.
Issei shook his head violently from side to side. "You're not a jerk, Jinpachi, you're just—you're just—normal, and I can't even manage that."
"Normal? Normal? Not unless this is some new definition of 'normal' that I slept through in class. Issei, I'm the reincarnation of an alien scientist who used to work on the moon. My ex-girlfriend talks to her plants and lives next door to a former evil eight-year old with psychokinetic powers and a degree in extraterrestrial electronics. I give up on 'normal'." Jinpachi gave a short, bitter little chuckle. "And I thought this was so cool when we started dreaming the same dreams." He tightened his grip on Issei's hand. "Hell, Issei," he muttered, voice cracking in the middle of it. "You're all I've got left."
Issei just stared at him, silent and sad—poor kid. All of Issei and all of Enju-chan inside of him, and wanting to cry so badly, but knowing boys weren't supposed to do things like that, knowing he'd probably be belted one if his father ever caught him at it. Awkwardly—and totally unconsciously—Jinpachi started to stroke his thumb across Issei's slim fingers, trying his damndest to figure out what he was supposed to do and just how he could make Issei stop looking at him like that. He only realized what he'd been doing when Issei shivered beneath his touch; Jinpachi stopped but didn't let go. He swallowed, hard.
"Jinpachi...? Does that mean...?" Issei couldn't finish. And from the soft, strangled tone of his voice, Jinpachi could guess how the sentence was going to end anyway.
Jinpachi's brain suddenly deserted him. There were so many things to consider, and to think about, and here he was suddenly having trouble remembering his own name. Issei was a guy, for Pete's sake—only weirdos thought that way, right?
Then again, being certain that you were an alien named Gyokulan in a past life wasn't really mainstream, either. Nor was discovering that your best—guy—friend used to be your—lady—love. Nor was learning that he still loved you.
In the end, Jinpachi could think of only one thing he could say in complete honesty. "It doesn't mean 'no'."
"Oh," said Issei. He grew still, very still, for a moment, so still that Jinpachi wasn't sure he was breathing anymore. Then his free hand rose, oh so slowly, and settled, fluttering on the front of Jinpachi's shirt—Jinpachi held his breath. "Jinpachi... please, I...."
Jinpachi didn't move. Jinpachi couldn't have moved, at that point, if a fire had broken out immediately behind him and threatened his very own personal body.
Issei leaned into Jinpachi to the point of seriously interfering in his friend's cognitive processes, holding himself up on tip-toe so that they were the same height. He seemed to be grasping desperately for any word that came to him, trying so hard to speak. "All you have to say is stop, Jinpachi. All you ever have to say...."
Issei and Jinpachi were nose to nose, now, Issei gazing at him with helpless eyes and shaking like a leaf against his body. Jinpachi took an endless moment to process what Issei was trying to say, and could only distill it down into one simple phrase:
Sahjareem, it's gonna happen again.
Jinpachi was frozen as Issei's pale hand rose again and traced the edge of his jaw, his eyes searching Jinpachi's intently for his reaction. For an instant, Jinpachi thought he saw another in Issei's place, a sad, mousy girl with dark brown eyes, and then Issei's eternal blue was back and they were even closer together now—
"Enju," Jinpachi choked out thickly, mouth suddenly dry. Issei kept going, and Jinpachi made no move to push him away. "Issei—" Issei shut his eyes and tears burst out from beneath his black eyelashes just before their lips touched, and Jinpachi tasted salt.
The first real thought that Jinpachi's mind managed to unscramble was that kissing Issei was much nicer when he knew what the hell was going on.
The second thing that came to mind was the tiny, extremely panicked portion of himself that was huddled, screaming, against the back of his skull asking him just what exactly he was doing, thinking those things about Issei when he had previously raged at Issei for thinking things like that about him.
The third and final thing that Jinpachi's mind could get organized, directed solely at himself, was shut up.
That was the last clear thought for a while.
Jinpachi let go of Issei's hands and just held onto Issei, gripping him by the arms like he was afraid Issei—Enju—would get away.
Again.
He surprised the hell out of himself by kissing Issei back, hard, and hungrily enough that Issei had to back up a step to keep his balance. But Issei adapted swiftly; whether this was because of Enju's empathy or just that Issei had known him for years, Jinpachi had no idea, but Issei simply melted into him, coming down from the balls of his feet and sliding both arms around Jinpachi's neck. If the hundred-and-eighty degree switch in Jinpachi's attitude disturbed him at all, Issei didn't show it; perhaps he, like Jinpachi, realized that when all was said and done, Gyokulan was too decent a man not to be faithful.
While Issei didn't seem to mind the idea of dying of asphyxiation right then and there, Jinpachi's lungs were beginning to complain—though the rest of him was quite happy. He let Issei go, soft lips pulling away from his, and discovered that while Issei still tasted like tears, they weren't flowing quite so freely anymore. Jinpachi scrambled to pick up the shattered pieces of his perception as Issei bowed his head, breathing hard into the buttons of his shirt.
Issei was shaking again. "Jinpachi, I—"
"Don't you dare say you're sorry."
His friend—more than friend—breathed quiet laughter against his collar, burying his head against Jinpachi's neck. "I'm not. Not this time. I can feel your heart going, too."
That was an understatement; Jinpachi was actually to the point of vertigo. Hell... last time Issei got me dizzy like this was on a merry-go- round—and it wasn't nearly this hot. I guess... things change...
...no. Not change.
They came full circle.
Damn, this is weird.
But it feels all right. This time.
"Issei?"
"Hm?" Issei turned his head up but refused to lean even the slightest bit away from his spot against Jinpachi's chest.
"You know what time it is, Enju-kun?"
"Mm-mm. I forgot my watch." If Issei caught him using Sakura's compromise endearment, he chose not to comment.
Jinpachi brought both arms around Issei and his left wrist up to eye level, over Issei's shoulder. By bending his hand very close—bringing Issei into a comfortable crush—and squinting fit to give himself a headache, he could just read the watch's face. "Ugh. It's almost midnight."
"You wanna go home?"
With you, yes, Jinpachi's mind snapped out before he could squelch it. He hadn't thought he was quite that bad, yet. Maybe it was Gyokulan's memory talking. "We probably should."
"Aa." Pause. Pleasant pause; he could hear Issei breathing gently against his ear, feel Issei's chest rising and falling. He took a moment to look down upon himself from outside and he had to admit, the two of them looked strange together—just what did he think he was doing, anyway, kissing his best friend?
Making things right with Enju-chan.
Making things right with Issei.
"I don't want to go home, Jinpachi."
"Neither do I, but do you really wanna get grounded?"
"No." Issei sighed. "Especially not now."
"Good. You are not just walking away this time."
"I wasn't planning on it," Issei responded dryly.
Jinpachi propped his chin on the top of Issei's head and tried to figure out exactly what he should be doing with his hands. Same thing as he was supposed to be doing if it were a girl in his arms, he suspected. A girl he really cared about. He rested one on Issei's back and the other at the nape of his neck—Issei didn't seem to mind either one.
"Jinpachi?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you sure?"
"I haven't been sure of anything since I started having those weird dreams."
"Oh," said Issei, very softly. He started to pull away.
Jinpachi refused to let go. "Issei. This doesn't—it isn't—" Bah. Can't you even get one simple sentence to make sense? "It feels... okay." Jinpachi screwed up his face, thinking, trying to catch the elusive description he needed to reassure Issei. "It feels like it did with Enju," he clarified. Hopefully clarified, anyway.
"Oh," Issei repeated, understanding finally. Jinpachi breathed a sigh of relief as Issei settled back against him, eyes closed. He almost looked like he was sleeping....
Exhaustion suddenly hit Jinpachi, and he remembered how long it had been since he'd last seen his bed. "I'm about to fall asleep, Issei."
"Sorry. I guess we can go now." Issei lifted his head. "I'm not letting go of you until I have to, though."
"Fine by me." Jinpachi squinted painfully at his watch again and groaned. "How come neither one of us got to be a teleporter?"
"The whim of Sahjareem," said Issei solemnly. "Why don't we take you home first? Your apartment's closer, anyway."
"I guess." Jinpachi really dreaded having to explain this to his mother. Someday, that was—hell if he was insane enough to try it now. "Eh. Let's go before I fall over."
Issei took his arms from Jinpachi's shoulders and fell easily into step beside him, unobtrusively clasping his hand. Tightly. Walking down the street, hand in hand with Issei, Jinpachi finally felt the last of the lingering guilt dissolve. This was okay, wasn't it? If there was one thing he'd learned from the whole moon ordeal, it was that everyone acted exactly the same, no matter how different they looked from their old selves. Issei, if no one else, was proof positive of that.
And somewhere, a very long time ago on a planet that was itself now only a ghost, a handsome scientist offered his hand to a young lady in the middle of a lush public garden.
"Good evening, miss. Would you like to go for a walk?"
"Oh... but I don't even know you."
"Forgive me. My name is Gyokulan."
"And I am Enju...."
~Finis~
For a dead man, Gyokulan was startlingly thoughtful.
It disturbed Jinpachi sometimes, to see pieces of himself that he could identify positively as Gyokulan surface like ice bobbing in the ocean. But they were his pieces as well as the scientist's, and as soon as they appeared he could set them into place in his own self, Jinpachi's self, and go on living.
It was still weird, though.
Cold wind ruffled his hair. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing out this late, nor what he thought he'd accomplish by mulling over his reincarnation again and again. So far, it hadn't helped him any more than it had in the beginning, when they were just bizarre dreams to be drawn out and discussed with Issei. Jinpachi had always been all for figuring out the entire story, who was who and who did what and everything else that happened up there on the moon—but there came a point beyond which none of it seemed to really matter anymore. The soap opera that had played out up there in the research station was just that. A soap opera. Unreal, with no connection to here and now.
Well, that wasn't quite true, Jinpachi remembered with a wince. Some of their former incarnations had made their presence known quite forcefully at times. Haruhiko had been stricken with more guilt than anyone should ever have to feel in both lifetimes, never mind just this one. Rin—Shion—was doomed to be frustrated in a thousand million ways, at least until his body grew to finally match his mind. And Issei—
Tch. Forget it. Jinpachi leaned his elbows on the railing and hung his head. He had terminally mixed feelings about this spot, too. It had been months since they'd all decided just to forget about it, go on with their everyday lives, and he could still remember clear as a bell the day he and Issei had stood out here and Issei had told Jinpachi that he had a lot of nerve complaining about his romantic problems to him. And before Jinpachi had quite processed who was really talking and why she—she—was so upset, Issei's clear, pale eyes had filled with sadness and something less identifiable, and Issei—
Will you stop that! He thudded his hand against the railing, making it ring, and the sharp pain brought him back from the rushing tide of anger, directed mostly at himself. Things never had been quite the same between himself and Issei after that, though Issei had done his utmost to slap a patch on their relationship to make Jinpachi happy again. In a way, it was a very valiant thing to do; Issei—Enju—would rather be miserable himself—herself—than see Jinpachi uncomfortable.
And in another, more insidious way, it made Jinpachi feel like a complete snake for, at the very least, not being gentler and more elegant in the way he'd handled things. Shoving Issei away and wiping his mouth off was probably not the best way to explain that he'd rather it not happen again.
Why he'd rather it not happen again, Jinpachi never had quite figured out. The main reason at that point had been Alice, but things had never really mended between the two of them either. Alice was thoroughly spooked by the whole idea of being the reincarnation of some girl from another planet, even after she'd seemed to accept it, and not at all ready to believe well of herself after Rin's accident. And once she was prepared to believe, all Jinpachi's chances had been shot to hell; Mokulen had loved Shion.
Jinpachi was not Shion. Jinpachi was Gyokulan, and Mokulen had never even given Gyokulan a second thought, at least not in that way. Had Alice found Shion's unfortunate seven year deficit too much to handle, her second choice was more likely Haruhiko—Shukaido—if Jinpachi tried for her hand again, everything was likely to get all screwed up and....
His thoughts trailed off into incomprehensibility. He and Alice were still friends, at least. He and Issei were still friends too, so far as he knew. Rin was ill-tempered as a teenager but Alice seemed to be keeping him in check. He spoke to the rest of them on occasion, too.
So everything was fine, right?
Jinpachi grit his teeth and sighed, tilting his head back to look at the stars. It was a beautiful night.
He still had no idea why he was out here.
This is the night Gyokulan died.
Issei shivered every time he thought that. He wondered if Jinpachi knew it, too; from his point of view, it was difficult to miss, hanging in the air like the very scent of sadness, but then again, Enju-chan had been telepathic and very close to Gyokulan at the time of his death. Realistically—probably—no one else had any idea.
Issei couldn't sleep. Had tried, failed, gotten dressed again and gone out for a walk. It wasn't helping. This night was just... it hurt, because he couldn't stop thinking about Enju and Gyokulan and himself and Jinpachi, and every thought made his chest tighten painfully, twisting his heart like a wet dishrag beneath his ribs. Issei looked down at his own hands and found them pale and trembling; he used them to scrub uselessly at his face and then shoved them into his pockets.
He felt so empty he could cry.
In a perfect world, it wouldn't have been the mess it was. If Fate had been paying attention, Rin would have been the same age as Alice from the beginning and that would have worked out; if Fate had been kind, Haruhiko wouldn't have a weak heart and a severe karmic complex stemming from what he'd done to Shion in another life. And if Issei had had just a little more self-control, he wouldn't be in serious doubt over whether Jinpachi would ever speak to him again in the sort of confidence he used to, sharing his dreams, thoughts and feelings.
Issei had cursed himself up and down and left and right and sideways from the moment he'd lost his grip on things—but once he'd started, he could hardly seem to stop himself. The words came without warning and without check, hinting, then telling, and then his hand had risen by itself to land on the breast of Jinpachi's shirt... Jinpachi hadn't said stop. He hadn't. But his eyes had been screaming oh—my—god and Issei hadn't been able to make himself halt and he would regret that for all eternity, no matter how many lives he lived. The kiss was stolen and worthless and Issei wished with all his heart to take it back and have at least Jinpachi's companionship again.
Groundless hope was better than shattered dreams.
Issei's eyes stung miserably and he choked on his next breath. He'd been stupid to think Jinpachi would even humor him in this. Jinpachi was so much better at this than he was, able to take reincarnation and feelings of another life and to lay them smoothly down behind him to be normal again. But Issei... Issei couldn't let go. Deep down in his heart, locked carefully away where it couldn't escape to hurt anyone again, was a deep love, a deep and eternal and consuming love of Jinpachi—of Gyokulan—of that soul, whatever it's name. The burning need to be near him, to hear his voice and to sense him close at hand... and the searing pain when he couldn't stay close, when Jinpachi—
Pushed him away.
Silent tears escaped and trailed like liquid fire down Issei's cheeks, his feet stilling. That had hurt most of all, being shoved aside and stared at in shock, with confusion and fear showing plain on Jinpachi's face, in his eyes. The realization that Jinpachi had only stood still for it for as long as it took him to get enough stray thoughts together to end the experience. The kiss.
And tonight, it hurts even worse. Tonight is the anniversary of Gyokulan's death, and it makes me think... what if Jinpachi... before I have a chance to tell him what I really feel... and why....
Issei pulled up a trembling hand and flicked the tears off his face, hot drops that glittered a moment in the moonlight before disappearing in their flight. Get a hold of yourself, Issei. Crying will not do you any good. He took a deep breath, as deep as he could manage with his ribs constricting notch by notch around his heart, and willed the tears away. As he figured it, he had two choices now: he could keep walking, possibly find someplace to stop wandering before he got completely lost, or he could go home and go back to bed, lying there until sleep overtook him or morning came.
With a soft, sorrowful sigh, Issei turned in the first direction that came to his mind and began to walk.
What time is it? thought Jinpachi. He'd look at his watch, but it was too dark to read it. Not that it mattered much, anyway; whether it was nine p.m. or three a.m., he didn't feel like going in. He didn't feel much like anything, to be honest—just disturbed and somewhat sad, and entirely unlike sleeping.
He still didn't know why he was out here. Out here in particular; being out at this railing was not helping his state of mind. Closing his eyes only brought a picture of Issei's pale face wearing that look, the one that sent crawling chills up his spine and at the same time made him feel so strongly, desperately needed, and the feel of Issei's hand laid ever so softly on his chest just before—
Jinpachi grimaced. Why can't I ever finish that thought? It wasn't... the worst thing that had ever happened to him.... And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it had taken a lot of courage on Issei's part to do it. And a lot of raw feeling. It was, he supposed, flattering and maybe even gratifying to know that Enju-chan still felt that way about him.
And very disconcerting when Enju felt that way about him wearing Issei's body.
Just for a moment, Jinpachi wondered what it would have been like if Enju had come back as a woman. Would he still have fought so spectacularly? Even when he thought he had Alice? He imagined Issei's eyes, bright and clear, set in a more delicate face, with longer hair.... It wouldn't take much, he realized with a start. Issei's face was pale and slender to begin with; if he'd been born a girl, he would have been a pretty one. And if that girl had kissed him....
Jinpachi blew a sigh and flopped backwards, spreading his arms straight out to lean his neck and shoulders back against the rail. The stars glittered like strings of diamond beads, reminding him that Gyokulan had stared out at the same spectacular stellar display once upon a time, from a different, distant spot. So had Enju.
What would have happened, he thought, slowly and very clearly, the words picking their way gingerly through his mind, if I hadn't pushed him away?
Jinpachi hadn't an answer for himself.
He closed his eyes, letting the images of Issei's face come to him but banishing the other thoughts to give himself some momentary peace. He floated, blank, in the night for a while, wind ruffling his caramel hair and white shirt, until he became aware that the quiet footfalls he was hearing were not the scuffings of his own feet. Curious, he raised his head and opened his eyes, turning to the noise, and saw—
Issei raised his eyes momentarily, suddenly aware someone else was in the area, then dropped his head again, speechless, when he saw who it was. His feet faltered, touching uncertainly to earth before he shook his head and started to turn.
"Issei---" Jinpachi held one hand out as if to stop his friend. If he wanted—if he had any control—he probably could stop Issei from where he was standing, just pick him up so his shoes didn't touch the pavement and leave him hovering so he couldn't get away. That was something else he had inherited from Gyokulan.
"Jinpachi." Issei's voice was quiet and rough. Jinpachi squinted in the low light and thought he could make out red rings around the young man's eyes.
Had Issei been... crying?
Jinpachi cleared his throat. "Haven't seen you in a few days. What're you doing out this late?"
Issei looked at him oddly, pale blue eyes turned all sorts of reflected colors in the moonlight, picking up glints of hue from anything near them. "So you don't know."
"No," said Jinpachi slowly.
Hesitantly, as if Jinpachi might move to strike him, Issei came forward and settled nervously on the rail next to his friend. His eyes roamed the scene before him, wandering occasionally as far as the hands Jinpachi was leaning on, but never up to his face. "Tonight is the night Gyokulan died," he said.
Jinpachi sucked in a breath, that feeling of simultaneous déjà vu and certainty slamming heavily into his mind. It was a sensation familiar to him, and yet it took him off guard every time it happened.
"—Jinpachi?"
Jinpachi shook his head, throwing off the slight mental disorientation. "You're right," he said softly. "I died tonight. Weird."
"Are... are you okay?"
Leaning his elbows on the metal rail again, Jinpachi slumped over them. "Yeah. It's almost more a relief than an upsetting thing... I couldn't figure out why I couldn't get to sleep. Now I know."
Issei seemed to relax a bit. "That's all right, then. So, how's Alice?" he asked, changing the subject. "I haven't seen her for a while, since we were put in separate homerooms again."
"Fine, I guess," said Jinpachi, shaking his head. "I haven't seen her much, either."
"Oh?" Issei blinked. "I thought you and she...."
"No."
"Ah."
They stood together in silence for a minute or two, slightly strained but not very; they had been friends too long not to know, at the very least, when it was all right to keep yourself to yourself. But in time, Issei started to fidget quietly, and Jinpachi wondered for a moment what had gotten into him. Then Issei suddenly turned his head and Jinpachi knew.
Issei was fighting back tears.
"Jinpachi, I'm so sorry," he blurted, lower lip trembling. Then he looked away again, struggling and failing to keep his emotions in check.
"Huh? For what?"
"For—for the last time we were out here." Issei bit the trembling lip still and seemed nearly to collapse into himself, deflating over the elbows he had propped on the metal pipe.
Huh? Jinpachi's mind went racing backwards and it suddenly occurred to him that the two of them hadn't hung out up here since... it... had happened.
Oh.
"Issei...."
"I didn't mean to hurt you, Jinpachi, I didn't mean to confuse you or frighten you or anything like that... I didn't mean to lose control. I swear." Issei's voice was muffled by his mortified little crunch and was getting softer and softer by the second.
"Issei—"
"I never would have done it if I'd been thinking, Jinpachi. You loved Mokulen and didn't need that from me... You never said stop, but I could see it in your eyes and it didn't register in time and I wouldn't stop—Jinpachi, I'm sorry."
"Issei!"
Issei drew a deep breath and brought his face up hesitantly, pale lips compressed into an even paler line. "I'm sorry...."
Now that Jinpachi had his friend's attention, he found he'd completely neglected to come up with anything to say after 'Issei'. "It was a long time ago," he finally managed. "Forget it."
"A-all right. If you say so," Issei responded, ducking his head again swiftly—but not before something flashed in his eyes.
Normally, Jinpachi had to be hit in the head with a revelation the size of a cinder block before major changes in personal relationships became clear to him. Issei had gone so far as to kiss him once, and it still hadn't stuck. But there was something in his broken posture now, something very small and very sad but perfectly willing to do whatever Jinpachi said if Jinpachi thought it would make everything right....
That was not a sign the size of a cinder block. That was a sign about the size of a commuter train, travelling at seventy miles an hour. Even Jinpachi couldn't miss it—and it hurt.
No matter how much he loved Alice—and he wasn't so sure now that he did, not after being away from her for so long, not after seeing her with Rin/Shion—Enju-chan's new life did not deserve to be marred by this.
"Issei," he said quietly, one more time. Issei steeled himself, visibly, and Jinpachi wondered if he knew how much it showed. "You don't want to forget it, do you?"
Issei's head jerked once, before he caught himself and calmed down to look Jinpachi in the eye. "I will if I get to keep you." He flushed deeply, blood rushing almost maroon beneath his pale skin. "I-I know it sounds selfish, but I don't want to lose you as a friend over something so... so stupid."
Jinpachi thought back to how it had felt when he first realized he loved Alice. How he had to smile whenever she came anywhere near him. The tumbling sensation that filled his body when she spoke. The way his mind wandered away to daydreams of her and the way his hands shook when he made up his mind to tell her.
And then he thought back to everything he remembered of Gyokulan and Enju. And the same fleeting snatches of being giddy and warm and totally secure in her arms.
Jinpachi made a noise something like 'hnh' and shuffled his foot uncomfortably. "'Snot all that stupid."
Issei stopped breathing.
Kicking idly at one of the bars in the railing, Jinpachi let the quiet go on until he couldn't stand it anymore and had to say something else. Anything else.
"For what it's worth, Issei, it wasn't..." Jinpachi cleared his throat and felt a dark flush creeping up his own neck and crawling into his cheeks. It didn't show on him anywhere near as much as it did on poor Issei, but it felt hot and uncomfortable. He had never been any good at this stuff. "It wasn't... all that bad... either...."
Issei breathed a small sigh, shoulders slumping slightly from their too-tense position. Amazingly enough, there was a tentative smile on his face—not a happy smile, to be sure, but it was a better reaction than trying to draw blood from his own lip like he had been. "But you wanted me to stop, and I didn't. I could see it in your eyes. I'll never forgive myself for that."
"In my eyes, huh? You're so sure?"
Issei looked at him sadly—and, Sahjareem, those eyes were suffering. "Very sure," he whispered, shame creeping into his voice.
"Tch. Nice trick. I still don't know what I want. Good thing you're here to tell me."
Surprise flared on Issei's face, igniting a faint spark of hope in his darkening blue irises and trying to quench it just as quickly. "Jinpachi...?"
"I haven't talked to Alice in two months, Issei. I think she's trying to get me to go away real quiet-like." And he knew why, too—that little trip to the moon had cleared up the matter of who was really Shion pretty quick. Not everyone was happy about the news, but Alice took it remarkably well, considering how long Rin had been lying to her. Sakura had tugged Jinpachi gently aside and suggested that might have been because Mokulen had chosen wild Shion a lifetime ago and wasn't about to change her mind.
Issei said nothing, not even trusting himself to offer condolences.
"All that time I spent chasing her—all that time everyone spent chasing her—poof, gone. I feel like such an idiot." He shifted the arm that was starting to fall asleep, and amended, "such a wounded idiot."
"You were going after your love," Issei said softly. "Foolishness doesn't matter."
"You weren't saying that a minute ago."
Issei looked away again. For Pete's sake, couldn't that boy keep from crying for two whole sentences? "I hurt you. It doesn't matter how I looked."
"Damn it, Issei," Jinpachi growled, slamming his hand into the metal rail again in frustration. The ringing felt good, sounded better; his temper would recede soon, but not before he got out what he wanted to, appearances be damned. "You did not hurt me. Did you leave any cuts? Bruises? I didn't feel any... I was just off in my own little world and not thinking at all, or I wouldn't have done what I did. You didn't leave any damn mental scars, so stop thinking that you did."
Issei was staring at him with wavering eyes, giving him a look that was a cross between convinced he was hallucinating and praying to whatever god was listening that Jinpachi would go on in the same vein. "Oh, Jinpachi..." he breathed. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that...."
He must have really been kicking himself over that night, Jinpachi mused. Poor kid.... "Eh. Maybe, maybe not." Jinpachi raised one forearm vertical and rested his head on his palm. "Sorry for dumping all the Alice crap on you. I know it upsets you."
Issei shrugged. "It's okay."
Jinpachi let a few finger-drumming minutes pass by again, trying to sort out what, exactly, he was thinking. He still thought of Alice frequently, wondering what he'd say if she ever started talking to him again, but he thought of Rin afterwards and it sent a sharp twinge through his gut and right out the other side. It was almost like that was another life, as separate from right now as their previous selves on the moon... none of them were the same as they had been when they started together. Some had changed less than others, but they had all been altered.
He couldn't take this much longer....
"Issei, I've just been rambling on about how I haven't seen Alice in forever and how I think she's trying to give me the brush-off and you don't even look happy."
"I-I—" Issei opened his mouth to stutter and promptly shut it again. "Am I supposed to be?"
Aw, hell, Jinpachi thought. Wrong again. "I thought Enju-chan was still—but I guess—never mind. Guess I thought she wouldn't be so depressed." He shook his head, disgusted and thoroughly frustrated with himself. All the effort he could put forth and it was only screwing him up.
"Not 'her'," Issei broke in softly. "Not 'Enju-chan'. Me. I'm Nishikiori Issei now. And I am."
Jinpachi sucked in a breath and forgot to let it go. Being right was almost as nerve-wracking as being wrong. "You still don't look all that happy."
"Why should I be? You're hurting and it makes no difference in what I want. I thought you weren't—"
"I wasn't," Jinpachi said. He could feel that slow burn working its way across his cheekbones again; all he could do was pray it was too dark outside for Issei to see it. "I don't know if I am."
"Jinpachi...?" One word, one name, one question, just barely loud enough to hear.
"I might be dense, but I'm not stupid. Gyokulan had Enju once and lost her because he thought he wanted Mokulen more, and then he lost Mokulen too 'cause she didn't want him. I thought I had Alice for a little while, but she wasn't happy and she found her Shion again in the end. And every time I turned around, there you were, just starin' up at me, and I looked right past you. Even if I just expected you to stay my friend, that was dangerous and dumb."
"It's all right—" Issei started.
"The hell it is! It was about the dumbest thing I possibly could've done then, and now—" He hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to let his mouth run away with him, especially on a subject as important as this... but he had to admit, at least this time it was running in a direction that didn't make him want to take every single word back as soon as he'd said it. "Well, now it's still a stupid thing to do."
Turning toward him, staring at the rail beneath Jinpachi's hands, Issei formed his face into a reluctant but genuine smile. Jinpachi gave an internal sigh of relief; nothing had come back to bite him. Yet.
"It's good to know you still want me around," Issei said guardedly, selecting his words with care.
"I don't just want you around, Issei; I want you around and talking, and complaining, and calling me an idiot, and..." Watch your mouth, Jinpachi. "...and close."
Suddenly Issei pulled his gaze out of the void and Jinpachi was caught, eyes as desperate as those of a drowning man and as blue as the water he foundered in sought his and held on for dear life, barely steady. Issei stared at him for a long, long time, and Jinpachi imagined that he was using whatever of Enju's psychic skill remained to draw any meaning he could out of that one last word. All at once he felt this conversation slipping out of his control and dropping into the realm of the gods, where only Fate—or perhaps Sahjareem—could pick it up and save it.
"How do you mean that, Jinpachi?" asked Issei, slow and hoarse. "How much do you mean that?"
"I don't have the slightest clue," Jinpachi admitted. "But I do mean it."
Issei closed his eyes and turned his face to the wind, profile to Jinpachi, fair skin looking absolutely white in the light of the ancient moon. Jinpachi's gaze skimmed over Issei's ruffle of dark hair, the brush of charcoal lashes on his cheeks, and he wondered how Issei could look so much like a girl and so much not. In part, he thought it might be the way Issei moved, particularly since he'd begun discovering the truth of the moon dreams, with silence and long-legged grace. Again, almost feminine, but not quite; just quiet, and gentle.
Then again, Jinpachi'd also seen Issei throw a killer punch since he'd realized he was Enju-chan. That hadn't looked too bad, either.
The rosy flush started to burn his face again and Jinpachi kicked himself for it. Tch. Stupid. Listen to what's been coming out of your mouth—and you pick now to blush? No wonder his timing had always been awful. His rightful sense of public embarrassment had always been a step and a half behind his mouth.
Something nervous and surprisingly soft brushed against the back of Jinpachi's hand—Issei's fingers. Jinpachi blinked himself out of his thoughts to see one silver tear track down Issei's cheek, catching a single spark of light before rolling away into oblivion. Issei's warm palm settled momentarily onto his hand and Jinpachi's mind gibbered. This is okay, right? Just friends, just friendly still, right? it babbled, suddenly catapulted into hysteria—or giddiness—he didn't know what. But he couldn't shake Issei off, Issei had always been there and it wouldn't have been fair, and besides that it felt kinda reassuring.
"Thank you, Jinpachi," Issei said with that beatific smile—Enju's smile. The one that she'd used on Gyokulan to assure him that she was okay even when he was brushing her off to see Mokulen. Jinpachi cringed involuntarily to see it again, reminded uncomfortably of how badly he'd treated Issei in two entirely different lives. His thin fingers started to slip from the back of Jinpachi's still hand—
Jinpachi's other hand shot out and caught Issei's before it could move. Issei started and blinked, suddenly looking not at all like the happy martyr he had been.
"Issei, I'm the one who should be sorry. Really sorry. I'm a jerk," he added, as if it wasn't clear enough already.
Issei shook his head violently from side to side. "You're not a jerk, Jinpachi, you're just—you're just—normal, and I can't even manage that."
"Normal? Normal? Not unless this is some new definition of 'normal' that I slept through in class. Issei, I'm the reincarnation of an alien scientist who used to work on the moon. My ex-girlfriend talks to her plants and lives next door to a former evil eight-year old with psychokinetic powers and a degree in extraterrestrial electronics. I give up on 'normal'." Jinpachi gave a short, bitter little chuckle. "And I thought this was so cool when we started dreaming the same dreams." He tightened his grip on Issei's hand. "Hell, Issei," he muttered, voice cracking in the middle of it. "You're all I've got left."
Issei just stared at him, silent and sad—poor kid. All of Issei and all of Enju-chan inside of him, and wanting to cry so badly, but knowing boys weren't supposed to do things like that, knowing he'd probably be belted one if his father ever caught him at it. Awkwardly—and totally unconsciously—Jinpachi started to stroke his thumb across Issei's slim fingers, trying his damndest to figure out what he was supposed to do and just how he could make Issei stop looking at him like that. He only realized what he'd been doing when Issei shivered beneath his touch; Jinpachi stopped but didn't let go. He swallowed, hard.
"Jinpachi...? Does that mean...?" Issei couldn't finish. And from the soft, strangled tone of his voice, Jinpachi could guess how the sentence was going to end anyway.
Jinpachi's brain suddenly deserted him. There were so many things to consider, and to think about, and here he was suddenly having trouble remembering his own name. Issei was a guy, for Pete's sake—only weirdos thought that way, right?
Then again, being certain that you were an alien named Gyokulan in a past life wasn't really mainstream, either. Nor was discovering that your best—guy—friend used to be your—lady—love. Nor was learning that he still loved you.
In the end, Jinpachi could think of only one thing he could say in complete honesty. "It doesn't mean 'no'."
"Oh," said Issei. He grew still, very still, for a moment, so still that Jinpachi wasn't sure he was breathing anymore. Then his free hand rose, oh so slowly, and settled, fluttering on the front of Jinpachi's shirt—Jinpachi held his breath. "Jinpachi... please, I...."
Jinpachi didn't move. Jinpachi couldn't have moved, at that point, if a fire had broken out immediately behind him and threatened his very own personal body.
Issei leaned into Jinpachi to the point of seriously interfering in his friend's cognitive processes, holding himself up on tip-toe so that they were the same height. He seemed to be grasping desperately for any word that came to him, trying so hard to speak. "All you have to say is stop, Jinpachi. All you ever have to say...."
Issei and Jinpachi were nose to nose, now, Issei gazing at him with helpless eyes and shaking like a leaf against his body. Jinpachi took an endless moment to process what Issei was trying to say, and could only distill it down into one simple phrase:
Sahjareem, it's gonna happen again.
Jinpachi was frozen as Issei's pale hand rose again and traced the edge of his jaw, his eyes searching Jinpachi's intently for his reaction. For an instant, Jinpachi thought he saw another in Issei's place, a sad, mousy girl with dark brown eyes, and then Issei's eternal blue was back and they were even closer together now—
"Enju," Jinpachi choked out thickly, mouth suddenly dry. Issei kept going, and Jinpachi made no move to push him away. "Issei—" Issei shut his eyes and tears burst out from beneath his black eyelashes just before their lips touched, and Jinpachi tasted salt.
The first real thought that Jinpachi's mind managed to unscramble was that kissing Issei was much nicer when he knew what the hell was going on.
The second thing that came to mind was the tiny, extremely panicked portion of himself that was huddled, screaming, against the back of his skull asking him just what exactly he was doing, thinking those things about Issei when he had previously raged at Issei for thinking things like that about him.
The third and final thing that Jinpachi's mind could get organized, directed solely at himself, was shut up.
That was the last clear thought for a while.
Jinpachi let go of Issei's hands and just held onto Issei, gripping him by the arms like he was afraid Issei—Enju—would get away.
Again.
He surprised the hell out of himself by kissing Issei back, hard, and hungrily enough that Issei had to back up a step to keep his balance. But Issei adapted swiftly; whether this was because of Enju's empathy or just that Issei had known him for years, Jinpachi had no idea, but Issei simply melted into him, coming down from the balls of his feet and sliding both arms around Jinpachi's neck. If the hundred-and-eighty degree switch in Jinpachi's attitude disturbed him at all, Issei didn't show it; perhaps he, like Jinpachi, realized that when all was said and done, Gyokulan was too decent a man not to be faithful.
While Issei didn't seem to mind the idea of dying of asphyxiation right then and there, Jinpachi's lungs were beginning to complain—though the rest of him was quite happy. He let Issei go, soft lips pulling away from his, and discovered that while Issei still tasted like tears, they weren't flowing quite so freely anymore. Jinpachi scrambled to pick up the shattered pieces of his perception as Issei bowed his head, breathing hard into the buttons of his shirt.
Issei was shaking again. "Jinpachi, I—"
"Don't you dare say you're sorry."
His friend—more than friend—breathed quiet laughter against his collar, burying his head against Jinpachi's neck. "I'm not. Not this time. I can feel your heart going, too."
That was an understatement; Jinpachi was actually to the point of vertigo. Hell... last time Issei got me dizzy like this was on a merry-go- round—and it wasn't nearly this hot. I guess... things change...
...no. Not change.
They came full circle.
Damn, this is weird.
But it feels all right. This time.
"Issei?"
"Hm?" Issei turned his head up but refused to lean even the slightest bit away from his spot against Jinpachi's chest.
"You know what time it is, Enju-kun?"
"Mm-mm. I forgot my watch." If Issei caught him using Sakura's compromise endearment, he chose not to comment.
Jinpachi brought both arms around Issei and his left wrist up to eye level, over Issei's shoulder. By bending his hand very close—bringing Issei into a comfortable crush—and squinting fit to give himself a headache, he could just read the watch's face. "Ugh. It's almost midnight."
"You wanna go home?"
With you, yes, Jinpachi's mind snapped out before he could squelch it. He hadn't thought he was quite that bad, yet. Maybe it was Gyokulan's memory talking. "We probably should."
"Aa." Pause. Pleasant pause; he could hear Issei breathing gently against his ear, feel Issei's chest rising and falling. He took a moment to look down upon himself from outside and he had to admit, the two of them looked strange together—just what did he think he was doing, anyway, kissing his best friend?
Making things right with Enju-chan.
Making things right with Issei.
"I don't want to go home, Jinpachi."
"Neither do I, but do you really wanna get grounded?"
"No." Issei sighed. "Especially not now."
"Good. You are not just walking away this time."
"I wasn't planning on it," Issei responded dryly.
Jinpachi propped his chin on the top of Issei's head and tried to figure out exactly what he should be doing with his hands. Same thing as he was supposed to be doing if it were a girl in his arms, he suspected. A girl he really cared about. He rested one on Issei's back and the other at the nape of his neck—Issei didn't seem to mind either one.
"Jinpachi?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you sure?"
"I haven't been sure of anything since I started having those weird dreams."
"Oh," said Issei, very softly. He started to pull away.
Jinpachi refused to let go. "Issei. This doesn't—it isn't—" Bah. Can't you even get one simple sentence to make sense? "It feels... okay." Jinpachi screwed up his face, thinking, trying to catch the elusive description he needed to reassure Issei. "It feels like it did with Enju," he clarified. Hopefully clarified, anyway.
"Oh," Issei repeated, understanding finally. Jinpachi breathed a sigh of relief as Issei settled back against him, eyes closed. He almost looked like he was sleeping....
Exhaustion suddenly hit Jinpachi, and he remembered how long it had been since he'd last seen his bed. "I'm about to fall asleep, Issei."
"Sorry. I guess we can go now." Issei lifted his head. "I'm not letting go of you until I have to, though."
"Fine by me." Jinpachi squinted painfully at his watch again and groaned. "How come neither one of us got to be a teleporter?"
"The whim of Sahjareem," said Issei solemnly. "Why don't we take you home first? Your apartment's closer, anyway."
"I guess." Jinpachi really dreaded having to explain this to his mother. Someday, that was—hell if he was insane enough to try it now. "Eh. Let's go before I fall over."
Issei took his arms from Jinpachi's shoulders and fell easily into step beside him, unobtrusively clasping his hand. Tightly. Walking down the street, hand in hand with Issei, Jinpachi finally felt the last of the lingering guilt dissolve. This was okay, wasn't it? If there was one thing he'd learned from the whole moon ordeal, it was that everyone acted exactly the same, no matter how different they looked from their old selves. Issei, if no one else, was proof positive of that.
And somewhere, a very long time ago on a planet that was itself now only a ghost, a handsome scientist offered his hand to a young lady in the middle of a lush public garden.
"Good evening, miss. Would you like to go for a walk?"
"Oh... but I don't even know you."
"Forgive me. My name is Gyokulan."
"And I am Enju...."
~Finis~