A/N: Urg. Yet another Teh!War fic. I apologize for my disgusting lack of creativity. Speaking of lack of creativity, this just happens to be shonen ai. To make a long story short, if you don't want to see Ren and HoroHoros relationship through the rose-tinted glass of my fangirlish brain meatz, click the 'Back' button. In case it isn't obvious enough, this is also AU. Three cheers for spontaneous fic urges!

This Disclaimer Eats Nachos: Shaman King belongs to whoever has the rights to it. Which, sadly, does not include me.

A Question of Honour

The war had been raging for many, many years- few elders had survived the carnage- the famine, poverty, disease and politics that ruled the once proud nation. Only such a precious few seemed able to remember a time before the Great War broke out. It was next to impossible for a child born into an era so tainted by the blood of the innocents- the flesh of their mothers and fathers, their brothers and sisters- it was impossible for a child, in whom had been taught to hurt and to hate since drawing their first breath, to comprehend, let alone dream of a world without hatred and anger, without death and desperation- of building a peaceful nation.

Honour before Peers

So thus was his fate. He had been a noble born into the ranks of the elite for one sole purpose: To contribute to the war effort. He, along with all his peers, were simply tools to be used to change the tides of a war that's meaning had long ago been lost, against a foe that's hatred ran as deeply as their own. A tool of the state to be used and used until they either emerged victorious, or lay broken under the marching boots of the enemy. Either way, they would receive no gratitude for their sacrifices. Nor did they desire it.

Honour before Kin

All he desired, all he knew how to desire, was to see the look within the enemy's eyes as they fell, fragile limbs twisted and broken, before his kwan dao- before him. And oh how beautiful the blade looked with the sinking sun setting the metal aflame as the fine droplets of red danced across its flawless surface… The blood of the Japanese. The blood of pigs.

Honour before Love

Not that he was a lowly foot soldier, as most of the poor Chinese peasantry were destined to become. Slanted gold eyes focused intently on the man perched upon the elaborate throne before him- cold, intelligent, laced with bloodlust and poison. He had been lucky enough to be born into the noble class, thus granting him and his siblings a superior position among the elite. Not to imply that he was unworthy of the station and was simply riding upon his name alone, he had more than proved his cunning and ruthlessness countless times- upon the battlefield and behind enemy lines alike. By the tender age of thirteen his hands were already stained beyond innocence, his soul tainted beyond redemption, by the blood of countless enemies.

Honour before Self

He felt his eyes narrow to slits of malice, his lip curled in disgust at the older man as his father sneered down at the disdainful youth. He had been trained as a spy- an Assassin. He was the heir to the Tao legacy of deceit… and here he found his services called upon again and again. Feints within feints within feints- it seemed as if nothing was sacred and pure anymore through the savage devastation of total war. He whirled on his heel and marched out of the spacious room with a condescending huff, this assignment was going to be a pain…

Not that it would be overly difficult, he had successfully assassinated many a man, women, and even children in the past. He couldn't help but sigh in irritation as he stalked down the darkened halls of his estate, his beloved kwan dao slung tensely over one slender shoulder. It was just really, really annoying running errands for politicians like his father. In all honesty, it was a rather standard (and boring) mission- he was to take a small squadron of his fellow Tao brethren in an effort to ambush and kill (yet another) foreign politician and deliver some (stupid) message the man carried back to his employer. Destroy the foreign caravan- take no prisoners, leave no survivors. He coolly stared down another soldiers nervous salute as he wordlessly continued his way to the baths. Apparently his next victim was some kind of ambassador from Japan, slipping into the country in secret to deliver some crap for the Japanese emperor. He had tuned most of the political drabble out, simply logging what information was crucial to the assignment- everything else he deemed unimportant was discarded. He didn't bother following politics- he would be incapable of performing his grizzly duties efficiently if he got too bogged down with the little details of who says what and whether they're right or wrong. It was none of his concern. As long as he completed his objectives the whole damn country could burn to ash for all he cared. Those golden slits narrowed once more, this time in sadistic pleasure as one crooked corner of his lips perked into a dark smirk. Right now, the only thing he was concerned with was one name:

Horokeu Usui

He couldn't help but snort to himself. Stupid name- typical of a Japanese pig.

-0-

Cold, detached gold gazed blankly ahead, the small childs face forcefully set into his seemingly calm, blank expression, as if the still-warm red droplets clinging to his pale cheeks didn't phase him- as if he was unaffected by the brutality strewn before him. Not human. Unarmed prisoners, sick, weak, their bodies ravaged by disease, malnutrition, and the notoriously brutal 'loving' touch of the Tao interrogators. They had been little more than walking corpses, disgustingly easy prey even for one as small as himself to practice upon. Not human. He haughtily crossed his arms over his chest, kwan dao still clutched tightly as he raised his chin in a defiant movement.

"Like pigs in a slaughter house." His voice was smooth, even, and so very cold… forever so very, very cold. Not human… He would have forced his hands to stop trembling if they hadn't become so bizarrely numb.

Not human.

Not human.

Not human.

And Tao En smiled.

-0-

"Sir?" came a soft, almost unsure whisper from his right. The Tao boy popped open one gold eye in irritation, his gaze piercing into the darkness as if he could see through the shapeless shadow looming out of the gloom. He allowed the awkward silence to stretch before the man nervously continued. Ren smirked slightly to himself as he eyed the other man critically- if there was one thing he would never cease to take pleasure in it was watching people squirm. "We've spotted the caravan." He whispered raspily, then waited tautly for the younger Tao to dismiss him. The Chinese boy chuckled internally as he soundlessly slipped into the inky black the man had emerged from, almost a shadow himself, just barely allowing his shoulder to brush past the others to let the underling know of his passage. Soon he found himself crouched down beside another faceless man, concealed by the foliage as they mutely watched a small group slowly, cautiously plod along- exactly nine men on horseback, huddled closely together as though they were expecting an attack. The man at his side glanced over at the younger boy, to which the Tao heir simply nodded in affirmation to his unspoken question. Golden eyes narrowed as the shadow crouched at his side brought a small whistle like device to his lips, blowing lightly, imitating the soft hoots of an owl.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The signal- and before he could even consciously register his actions, he was lunging from the underbrush, his small troop of fellow Tao assassins bursting forth all around him in a sudden flurry of action… Fine droplets of the sweetest red glimmered beautifully in the milky light of the waxing moon as the first fell.

Action and violence. He felt the flesh buckle and tear beneath his blade, his foes eyes widening, mouth gaping open in a silent scream as his trembling hands frantically grabbed at his spewing innards. Ren dove past the falling man, subconsciously burning the image into his memory to savour later, kwan dao already raising to strike down the next. Perfect, standard surprise attack- the enemy was surrounded on one side by the Tao assassins, their only method of retreat would be to hurl themselves into the lake at their other side, where Tao archers waited in the trees to pick off any that tried. He barely glimpsed one of his own men fall, mangled and bloodied, from the corner of his eye as he dodged an attack from the surprisingly heavily armed escort… He knew- though they wore peasants clothing, he knew… they fought using the same stance as the Shu clans- a rival family's- personal guard. So, whatever this Japanese ambassador carried, it would somehow benefit the opposing political party. The purple-haired boy couldn't help but smirk as his blade tore into his opponent, the wet gurgle as the man choked upon his own precious lifeblood a delight to the boys ears. Feints within feints within feints… But why… He frowned darkly at the sticky stains coating his kwan dao, the darker liquid intermixing with the dripping, dripping red. Why were they covered in oil…?

As if in response to his question, he felt a hand, slick with the already fallen owners own blood, clamp firmly around his ankle before he could lunge at another. The Tao chanced a glance down at the dying man, fury smouldering within the golden depths as he raised his blade for the finishing blow. How- how dare one of these low-born swine touch him? The man smiled humourlessly up the struggling youth, his iron grip around the nobles ankle refusing to relinquish as his other hand painstakingly slowly reached into his robes, groping for the tiny orb... When suddenly, it happened.

The young Tao yelped in shock and horror as he fell back, the sudden blaze blinding him as he managed to worm from the other mans grip, silently thanking the slick blood coating. He scampered frantically, half stumbling, half crawling, choking urgently in a frantic effort to get some air into his lungs as his arms desperately covered his face in the wake of the licking hot flames reaching hungrily for the small adolescent. He screamed (or at least he would have if he'd had the air), the white hot pain exploding within his mind as two charred hands grabbed desperately on his arm, his flesh bubbling and peeling away at the contact. He couldn't tell if the person was one of his own men, driven mad with agony and reaching out to him for help, or a member of the caravan in one last attempt to ensure the small Taos demise- all he could see was the shrivelled and blackened visage, skin and flesh bubbling, bursting, lips peeling away to reveal startlingly white teeth, startlingly white bone- a sickly grinning deaths head as the flames licked blue like an unholy halo, sizzling grotesquely as it continued feeding off the mans fat and (perhaps) the oil he'd been drenched in. The flames licked eagerly at the young Taos exposed flesh, blisters raising and bursting, the angry red skin cracking and crinkling, letting the red flow, bubbling, to the surface. He struggled desperately, he needed air… he couldn't… breath… his burning lungs screamed within his chest, his mind reeling as he tugged hysterically at his arm, trying to wrench it free from the dead mans grasp, felt the joints twist and pop, the charred flesh ripping, but he was beyond caring. He finally managed to yank his burned, torn arm from the steely grip, and as he fell back, fell away, he caught a glimpse of the stars… They sky… the sky was burning… And somehow, a detached part of him wondered where he'd dropped his weapon, and the scowl upon his fathers face…

"Only the greatest coward abandons his weapon, even while retreating. A true warrior would never let go- even if it meant to be buried with it- The dishonour of total defeat is far worse than mere death."

And for the first time, as he lay upon the scorched earth, the brilliant, dancing flames beginning to fade to a peculiar black, the pain searing his wounded arm fading to sweet nothingness, for the first time in his life he felt the bittersweet sting of shame…

He had failed…

He was dying… he coughed weakly, a sad attempt to force non-existent oxygen into his agonized lungs. And then, he was moving, dragged gracelessly across the singed earth before he found himself pitched abruptly into half-boiling water, he felt an arm wrapping clumsily around his shoulders and then he was moving again, deeper, splashing sloppily deeper into the water. He could see it, now, and forever reflected in his dreams, the flickering, all-consuming orange swallowing the surrounding trees and foliage, the trees and foliage he and his men had been concealed within less than an hour ago… strange, it seemed almost like a lifetime ago… thick, black smoke churning into the sky, blotting out the heavenly bodies and pitching the earth into absolute darkness, or maybe… maybe it was just him- the darkness filling his own vision… And the earth… it looked as though the very earth was burning… He barely registered the other one, his savoir, babbling nonsense, coughing and choking over his own words as he clutched the Chinese boy- all Ren could make out was noise- a dull din lost under the roaring of the crackling flames, under the rushing blood in his ears as that same detached part of himself idly noted he was in shock.

-0-

Ending Rant

You know, this was supposed to be a one-shot… however, this is already filling four pages and I haven't even gotten to a formal introduction between our two heros. Well, I could just be lazy and have fall in love overnight- but no, I'm going to do this one… RIGHT! (insert determined clenching of fist as the action-packed lightning of divine inspiration crashes in the background) Whoosh. So, methinks I'll just break this up, posting a bit at a time, instead of just slapping you poor souls with a freaking twenty-page monster… As of yet, it looks like only Ren and Horo will be featured in this thing, I could write a little alternate blurb for some other characters as well… if I feel like it anyway (heh).

Argh. Hopefully I've kept the characters- er, Ren- decently in character… except for that last bit… which makes me twitch, but alas, it's crucial to the plot and I can't think of a better way to do it… Constructive criticism (and shameless praise) is accepted, greatly appreciated, and lurved muchly.

Kudos to DragonStorm85- I'm glad you like, and I'm sorry I wound up deleting your review… How did you find this thing anyway…? It wasn't listed anywhere… The second chapter should rear its ugly head… eventually…

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