Antiquer's Trade: Steamy Murder at the Hot Springs!

by ToktelasAndTea

The second in the Antiquer's Trade origin series. It is a story of dark story nights, long hugs, and double homicide. Within you will find the general miss use of scissors and shameless full frontal nudity. Tread carefully and be not afraid.

The heat wave broke that night, as if some higher power had finally complied, and at the snap of some fingers the wind started up. It blew against their faces, making Misaki pull Akihiko coats tighter around him and almost making Akihiko regret giving it up. Almost. Misaki didn't seem to think so though. With the look of a man giving up his first born, the shorter handed the trench coat back. Akihiko folder his arms before his chest and set his jaw into a stubborn expression.

"Take your coat idiot."

"No."

"Take it!"

"Make me."

The author was not at all expecting the teen to climb onto his back, carrying the coat with him. Spindly arms wrapped around his shoulders and equally boney thighs around his waist. Akihiko smirked.

"Well if that's the way it's going to be." Cool fingers wrapped themselves beneath the teen's thighs and held them tight, which said teen was not expecting. In fact he was expecting to be thrown off immediately, not for his childishness to be encouraged.

"W-what are you doing!? L-let me down!"

"If you wanted to be let down you shouldn't have climbed up in the first place." He was way too tired to argue such screwed logic. Misaki groaned in frustration and buried his face into the short hair at the base of the elder's neck. Rather greasy hair.

"When was the last time you washed your hair?"

"…last week?"

"That's disgusting." Akihiko snorted.

"Takes one to know one."

"I'm not the one with access to a shower. Or do posh hotels no longer provide those?" The author sighed. His comment had been callous, and he could hear the suppressed hurt in the boy's voice despite how well it was hidden with the sarcastic jab. He reminded himself to repress his frank nature.

"Misaki, I'm sorry. I don't want to argue with you. I'm tired, you're tired, and I'm pretty sure neither of us can remember our last meal. Let me take you to the hotel, get you a room, and order everything we can from room service. Sound good?" It seemed to be that the man's words had flipped a switch. At the appearance of Akihiko he had forgotten everything, from the all-consuming hunger that tore at his stomach to the lead weights that served as his limbs. At the sight of the man his heart beat had picked up drastically and adrenaline had rushed through his vein. But now it was all coming crashing down. He was warm now and against the broad muscular back of the author and he felt an almost overwhelming sense of protection, something he hadn't felt for more than three years. Almost against he will his muscles relaxed as he pressed himself to Akihiko's back.

"Yeah…sounds good." If anyone were watching at that moment they would have seen the silver haired man's perpetual smirk soften and change into a small, modest, almost shy smile. But there was no one there to see it for Misaki had closed his eyes and was teetering on the precipice of dreams. Perhaps that was for the best, for a smile like that could be frightening in its meaning, and now was not yet the time for such thoughts.

"Usagisan…"

"Hmmm?" Had Misaki just called him a rabbit?

"…thank you."

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Misaki's mind returned to the present with the sensation of slipping, only to realize he was being lowered from Akihiko's back onto the plush mattress of a hotel room. He blinked the haze from his eyes, only half conscious of the stucco walls and luxury sheets. His mind was still stuck on the warmth that had been saturating his very bones unfortunately with the separation from the other's body it was slowly leaving. Cool fingers brushed his cheek, sweeping back his fringe. A low voice, gruff from cigarettes, but smooth and deep, like dark chocolate with almonds, filtered into his brain. Damn, he needed to stop thinking about food.

"I got you a room, so you'll be sleeping here tonight. Capiche?"

"Hmm…?" There was an amused snort.

"Just relax Misaki. I'll fill the bath."

"Mmmm…" Hazy green eyes finally located the arm chair, and he made his way over. Or at least he tried to. Akihiko watched with an amused expression as the brunet wobbled dangerously, feet sliding barely an inch over the carpet. So this was what a Misaki was like just woken up. He pushed the other back into bed. The boy was not even able to register it as he was already relaxing back into the matress.

"Forget the chair. I think I'll save us a both a trip back to the hospital by bathing you myself."

"Hmm…" Nimble fingers shed the shorter's coat before making their way to Misaki's back, reaching for the strings of the hospital gown. And then Misaki froze before quick as lightning he was gone.

"W-w-w-w-what a-a-are y-y-y-you—!?" He had pressed himself to the farthest wall, legs tense and eyes wild behind knotted hair.

"Ah, so the living dead return to life once more. Go clean yourself up, I'll order food." With a wary glance back Misaki fled into the bathroom. Akihiko's ears picked up the click of the lock as with one hand he reached for the room service menu and with the other he dug into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. The smile was gone now, a dark frown in its place.

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Akihiko watched Misaki's face grimace as he once again attempted to get the brush through his hair. He snorted and Misaki glared at him.

They were in the room Akihiko had just gotten for his new friend, the right amount of money putting him right next to the older man's room. Misaki himself had just emerged from the shower, entirely swamped in the plush white robe that had been provided as he sat cross legged in the bed, looking entirely uncomfortable and still smelling of the strong chemicals that made up the anti-lice shampoo. Underneath that odor was the soothing scent of the author's lotion though and it calmed him. On the side table sat a half empty glass of protein shake. The glass only contained the amount of a venti Starbucks coffee, but Misaki had said he was full about a quarter of the way through. Akihiko had frowned at this and the brunet must have seen because he didn't say another word as he managed to suck down another quarter. Akihiko dearly hoped his inadvertent facial expression didn't make Misaki sick.

The sound of a brush through wet hair had a very distinct noise but even more is the noise of a brush lodging itself in a tangle and refusing to move. The author winced as a strangled sound escaped from the other.

Finally Akihiko ground out his cigarette butt into an ashtray that was already spilling its burden out onto the table.

"Your hair wants cutting." Misaki shot him another glare.

"It's not polite to make personal remarks." Akihiko gave him a smug grin. This opening was as good as any to start conversation with. Talking with the brunet was still awkward, something that could be tied down to them being both extreme introverts.

"So you've read Alice in Wonderland?"

"My brother read it to me when I was little."

"And you still remember the comeback. Impressive." It was hard on skin as pale (and now scrubbed clean) as his was to hide the scarlet blush the compliment produced. He hunched further into himself as his gaze once more returned to the floor. "Misaki…"

"Y-yeah?"

"You know what I'm going to ask."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play stupid with me Misaki."

There was a long drawn out moment of silence as Misaki desperately tried to find a way out. This was about the sudden flinch as well as Akihiko hearing the loud thud in the bathroom earlier. And he had come in. And then tried to touch him. He just wanted to see if he was alright. It was perfectly naturally to reach out to touch another's shoulder or arm. But Misaki had forgotten that.

The author had strategically placed himself before the only door though, the window was far too high up, and he had not been awake to scope the building before entering so didn't know where the fire escape was.

But even if this were all not so, he knew he would not escape. There was something about this man that drew him in, that made him want to hold on and not let go. No, he would not leave.

"I wasn't raped." The words were said straight out. Akihiko seemed to deflate in his seat from relief.

"Then why…?"

"I managed to fight them off." Immediately the author was back on alert.

"What?"

"Their knife…t-they had a knife…I to-took it from them."

"Are they…"

"I don't know. I got them in the ribs. I didn't look back to see what happened. It…it was the first time I stabbed someone. B-but I-I-I-I don't want any more d-deaths added to my name…" Misaki's voice broke as he failed to hold back the sobs. Immediately Akihiko was upon him, holding him against a firm chest as he tried to breathe through the attack. It wasn't working though. The other's voice broke through the rushing panic.

"Don't try to breath Misaki. Hold your breath. Four counts. 1…2…3…4…" He did. Surrendering himself to the low timber of the man's voice. "Now breath out. 1…2…3…4…Breath in. 1…2…3…4…" And they went

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The meal was good, but Misaki forced himself to eat slowly, hating himself the whole time. He was not weak. He refused to be weak. And yet he could not pull himself away.

The idiot author had ordered an over excessive amount of breakfast dishes it seemed and Misaki forced himself to take down a bowl of rice. It was bland and he would have liked some sauce or vegetables or something, but Akihiko refused, saying that he should not be forcing that on his stomach after so long with nothing to fill it. He frowned but complied, knowing it was the truth. Three quarters were forced down before he found he could take in no more. So far he had managed to avoid any reunions with the last few meals and for that he was glad. Misaki was silent as Akihiko finished the fish. Finally, they were both done and the dishes covered once more with silver domes.

"So what's this about deaths to you name?" Wide emerald eyes looked at him in shock. He had thought the topic would be dropped.

"Di-didn't Niisan tell you?" Silver brows furrowed.

"Tell me what?"

"That I killed our parents."

"Nope. Entirely new to me. So tell me, how does an eight year old go about killing their parents while at the same time being sick in bed with a high fever?"

"So he did tell you."

"Somehow I doubt telling someone to hurry back constitutes as murder. Has this been bothering you for a while?"

"You sound like some quack councilor."

"Misaki…"

"Shut up." The teen drew away from the other until most of the wide expanse of bed was between them.

"Misaki."

"I said shut up!"

"You're forgiven Misaki. That's all I want to say. You're forgiven." Misaki could only stare at him, eyes wide with wonder. His whole life he had been seeking those words. Time and a time he had asked, and yet his sorrys were never accepted, people saying it was not his fault, that it had been an accident, some even telling him to forget. Rationally he knew it was true, but the guilt that crushed down his shoulders and dictated his whole life was something that was not rational. All he was wanted was forgiveness, and here it was, from a man he had hardly known a week and yet seemed to know him better than people he had known his whole life.

"Thank you."

Akihiko smiled.

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Misaki spent the night in the closet of his new hotel room.

Or so Akihiko assumed after a panicked searching that morning that followed walking into the room to the sight of a clearly undisturbed bed first thing in the morning. His heart sped as every worst case scenario ripped through him mind (What would he do if Misaki left? His mind whispered.) only to find the small figure curled tight in a nest of blankets in the darkest corner of the aforementioned closet.

"Misaki?" The boy did not stir, so Akihiko chose instead to study the way he slept. It was rather interesting, with knees pressed to his chest, shoulders hunched, and arms together over his face. It occurred to him the defensive tactic of this position, with the neck, face, and chest all protected, his back and sides inaccessible due to him having squeezed himself into a corner. He did not like it. Not at all. It looked horribly uncomfortable and to have to teach one's self how to sleep like that…it should not have happened. There was no way around it, it just should not have happened. And it was up to him to make it right.

"Misaki." Slowly he crouched and a pale hand reached out to gently shake the other's shoulder. He was not prepared for what happened next. Barely had he touched him when Misaki had sprung up, one hand immediately guarding his face as the other shot forward with the speed of a cobra, nails ripping deep gashed into the author's hand. Akihiko swore. Loudly. Green eyes widened.

"Oh, god! I'm sorry. I-I-I didn't mean t-to! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Misaki, calm down." His voice was firm, commanding. With his wounded hand to his chest, he reached out without thinking. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but somehow he knew he needed to comfort the boy. He stopped himself in time though. Misaki's reaction to his touch was sporadic at best. In the condition the boy was in now, he didn't want to know how he would respond to a surprise touch.

He need not have worried. Before he could react Misaki had grabbed the wrists of his injured hand and was dragging him towards the bathroom. He silently followed as the other ran his hand beneath the faucet, the water in the basin turning pink. With tissues the wounds were blotted at before Misaki was stretching onto his toes in an attempt to get Akihiko to raise the hand above his head. Emerald eyes did not leave the injury, their clear depth swimming with guilt.

"I'm sorry Akihikosan, I'm so sorry. If you want me to leave I understand. I-I'll go, you'll never have to hear from me again. O-or if you want me to pay you back I will. But y-you won't have to see me again. I'm so sorry Akihikosan." This time the author did not hesitate and with his free hand he gently pulled the brunet head so that it could rest against his chest, one arm still being held aloft by Misaki's own.

"Oi. What happened to Usagi?"

"…Usagi?" The guilt disappeared and was replaced with a look that gave Akihiko the impression that at the moment his sanity was being judge a little too harshly for comfort.

"You called me that before. What did I do to lose the privilege?"

"Well…I…um…do you want to be called Usagi?"

"Of course."

"Right. Of course….Usagisan…"

"Good, I thing that qualifies as enough for you to consider yourself forgiven. I shouldn't have woken you so suddenly." And they stayed like that, comfortable, perhaps more comfortable than was socially acceptable for two men to be when so close. But this did not occur to them and so they stayed.

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"I've been meaning to ask…" In response Misaki looked up at him from across the breakfast table, spoon passed in scooping porridge to his eager mouth. His hair, though still shaggy, courtesy to Akihiko's 'skills' with a pair of scissors, was shorter and the author was able to fully appreciate the unobscured view of curious green eyes. The shirt he had bought, part of a whole set he had gotten first thing at realizing Misaki had left the hospital in nothing but a flimsy gown, was still loose on the ridiculously thin frame.

"Yeah?" He forced his mind to snap back from starring too hard at his breakfast companion.

"Why do you have no toes?"

"I do to have toes!"

"Not all of them." For indeed, he had noticed when they came out of the closet together (pun intended) Misaki was very clearly missing the last two toes on his right foot.

"Yeah, well, winter gets cold."

"Oh." As he watched Misaki carefully put one spoonful into his mouth at a time he wondered if this was the way Misaki had been eating for the past three years. Deliberately, carefully, with precision, savoring each bite yet still eating almost impossibly quick, and half a mind focused on avoiding spots that would have…expired perhaps, despite the fact that he was in one of the most expensive hotels in Tokyo. It was a habit, Akihiko realized, and he wondered if Misaki had realized he was even doing it. His grip tightened around his fork as his omelette was speared perhaps more forcefully than it thought it deserved.

He was going to change this. He was going to make it better.

If it was the last thing he ever did.

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"You bought it."

"That I did."

"Just like that."

"Yup." Hesitantly spindly fingers stroked the leather seat upon which their owner sat. The smell of new car was slowly being replaced by that of cigarettes, the smoke escaping through the drawn back sun roof, as Misaki carefully relaxed himself into the seat of the shiny red convertible while Akihiko drove with one hand casually on the wheel.

"This is ridiculous. You're ridiculous. Insane. Mad. Oh god, I'm sitting in a fast moving car with a mad man!" With a flair that would have found its home in the theatre Misaki hid his face behind his hands and groaned.

"Don't be dramatic Misaki. It's only for a few months."

"I'm going to die. You're going to kill me. You're going to die. And all the innocent pedestrians are going to go with us." Akihiko snorted.

"Takahiro would have my throat the minute he wakes up if I did that."

"The minute he wakes up I am so telling on you."

"What are you? Five?"

"Asked by Mr. I-Get-What-I-Want."

"So you admit we're both childish then."

"I admit to nothing!" To prove his point the brunet crossed his arms before him with a huff, eyes narrowing and cheeks puffing out in the perfect pout. They rode like that for half a minute, until Misaki relaxed, taking a better look out the window.

"Akihikosan…"

"Call me Usagi." Emerald eyes shot him an exasperated look.

"U-Usagisan…?"

"Yes Misaki dearest?" The teen scowled at him.

"Don't call me that again or I really with feed you to Takahiro. I'll tell him its rabbit. Now coming in new bite sized pieces. Toys not included."

"Oh hardy har har. Your question?" The scowl dropped as Misaki once again turned his eyes to the rolling landscape.

"I just…um…w-where are we going Usagisan?" Akihiko couldn't help himself sighing at the same time as a weird sense of pleasure curled at the base of his stomach. He liked the sound of that name coming from the teen's lips, (a traitorous part of his mind whispered about how much better it sounded coming from Misaki than Takahiro) but it seemed the brief respite from painful stuttering had ended along with their playful banter.

"We're going to the mountains. I know the hair cut really changed your appearance but the whole of Japan is still looking for you. Sumi-sensei was declared a national treasure and now he's dead. Plus there's a hot spring I've heard of." Misaki tugged disdainfully at the ragged edges of his fringe.

"Hot springs. Alright. Do me a favor rabbit."

"Yeah…?"

"Never become a barber." The pause after that demand left Akihiko wondering if he would, become a barber that is, just to spite Misaki. The thought was interrupted by the other's vague muttering.

"I liked it long." Despite the fact he knew he wasn't the one being address, Akihiko answered anyway.

"Yeah, well now you can actually get a brush through it. Besides I like to look at your face." The words escaped without intension and suddenly both occupants of the car found themselves with their eyes firmly fixed on the road, identical blushing marring their cheeks, and the air of something in the enclosed space between them.

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The ride was long and Misaki found his eyes closing.

It was with a hallow feeling in his chest that Misaki thought of his violin. His parents had given it to him on his fourth birthday, an event he could still remember clearly. The sensation of the smooth grain beneath his fingers, of hands too small to hold a bow, of arms just long enough to reach past the body to the neck. He wondered what life was like before his violin, but couldn't imagine it in colour. All other presents had been ignored as he had spent the whole day with his violin, only able to pluck the strings or drum on the hollow wood. He had wanted to sleep with it too, but his parents wouldn't let him, instead showing him how to properly tuck it away into the case. And he had tucked it away, with a small blanket and pillow that had been stolen for the doll he had also received that day from a distant relative who had, like so many others, mistaken his gender. Not that he minded. He had slept that night curled around the case.

Sometimes Misaki felt like had had been born to play violin, that that would be his service to the world. He and his violin. When he was sick with pneumonia at six his parents had given him a set of markers and the brilliant idea had struck him that his violin was a bit too plain.

The childish caricatures of he, his parents and Niichan had remained on the base of the instrument, the only place he had managed to reach before the markers had been taken away. They hadn't faded with time, still there when the fire had come and…and…

The fingers in his right hand twitched, making to grasp firmly around wood, the pads yearning to press against hard wire. His collarbone twinged, naked and exposed without the weight.

"I'll get you a violin soon." Emerald eyed flew open in shock, locking with amethyst which, for a second, had taken their gaze from the road.

"H-how did you…" Akihiko smiled, and the smile was soft. Something inside Misaki relaxed, but not knowing what, or even why, the teen ignored it.

"You're an open book Misaki."

And Misaki's gaze returned to the moving scenery, unable to reply, only knowing that he wasn't. He wasn't an open book. He excelled in fooling people, telling them he was ok, not allowing people to worry about a child that had killed its parents. He wasn't easy to read. Not at all.

So why did Akihiko say that?

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There was a man standing at the exit of the freeway, garbed in grimy clothes that lacked socks and face disappearing behind a yellow stained matt of hair that served as a beard. Shaking hands held onto a cardboard sign.

At Misaki's resigned expression Akihiko didn't think twice about emptying the contents of his wallet into the stranger's outstretched hands.

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With bloodless fingers Misaki grasped the sides of the leather seats as Akihiko went over yet another of the crater sized pot holes that had appeared about an hour after leaving the last town behind them. His breath caught in his throat as he was certain that this time the axel would surely break and they would be sent tumbling over the edge of the narrow road that hugged the side of the mountain. Slowly he let the breath out as the undercarriage stayed in tack, only to draw it in again sharply at the next bone jarring thump. Perhaps the monks from the temple a few miles back would find their bodies. Holst's Mars, from the Planets, that just happened to be playing over the radio, and Misaki decided it very much did not help.

"We're here." The idiot rabbit's voice was far too cheerful after so many close scraped with death. Misaki cracked open an eye and took in the weathered sign declaring their approach to 'the most relaxing hot springs in all five islands.' Misaki wondered if they had hot springs in Okinawa. He thought they were just a Hokkaido thing. Granted he had never been out of Tokyo but—

"See? Just through the trees."

And there it was, with what the teen could swear was a pine tree growing out of a layer of moss and bushes that probably used to be the roof. Paint would be peeling of the walls if there were any paint left to peel. A light did shine from the inside though, so it couldn't have been that bad, right.

"Usagisan…"

"Hmm?" The man was already out of the car and getting their bags from the trunk. Well, his bag really, just packed with an extra toothbrush and underwear and such things. A plastic convenience store bag was hauled out too.

"Why are we here?"

"To relax at the hotspring. I heard the minerals were good for you."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Hmmm…somewhere. I haven't been in Japan for a good ten years. I can't remember everything."

"Right…Just how far back in line were you when they were handing out common sense?"

"Shut up Misaki." Nibble legs hurried to match the elder's long strides towards the stairs that lead to the entrance.

"No, I'm serious. Were you dropped on your head as a child or something? Because really, if the room is filled with mold then I sleep in the car and you can get your lungs filled with spores. Can't be any worse than the crap you put in there anyways."

"Look, I smoke because I want to and I can quite if I want to."

Misaki's only reply was a look.

"Shut up."

Akihiko was starting to hate that look.

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The innkeeper was a fit, though small man who grinned at them from beneath a baseball cap, presumably placed to hide his shiny, bare scalp.

"Two rooms or one room for two?" Akihiko smiled, handing over his ID and debit card.

"Two rooms." The author's mind was not on this business though, instead he felt as if every one of his nerve endings was alert, and ridiculous as it sounds, aware of the slightest disturbance of air from Misaki's movement behind him as the teen fidgeted nervously with shoulders hunched and eyes cast down. The brunet's feet were shoulder width apart and knees relaxed and loose. Misaki was ready to fly.

He wasn't sure what compelled him, but he knew it was necessary, and appearances before strangers had never really been something he thought about. Silently his hand slipped from his pocket, and though the movement was slight he brought it back, towards his companion. There was no mistaking the gesture and so he waited, with a heart that pounded for reasons he could not understand. And then he could feel it, the slightest pressure, fingers slipping between his own. He did not grasp them, he did not tighten his grip. This was entirely Misaki. He had made the first move and it was up to Misaki to respond and to realize he was not forcing anything on the boy.

It was only when he could feel the tight grip of the other and he allowed himself to grip back, did he realize he had been holding his breath. He released it in a huff, earning a funny look from the innkeeper but he did not care. What he also did not realize was that his smile had changed, and though it wasn't wider, it had softened somehow, become warmer, and just more…real.

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Akihiko's hands were large. They swallowed his own as he looked down at their connection. He could not see Akihiko's smile, and did not give one of his own, but by the slightest amount his shoulders relaxed and with a little effort he was able to tear his eyes from the rough floor boards of the lobby. He allowed his gaze to wander, from the mouse eaten arm chairs, to the wind up radio on the desk that was hurriedly spitting out the latest baseball scores at top speed. His attention landed finally on the back wall, lined with trophies. He narrowed his eyes, staring at them. Unlike everything else in this dump they were clean. And not just clean but shinning in the light from the overhead bulb. Not a speck of dust marred their polished surface. He leaned closer.

He had just managed to catch a few of the titles. Hiking, cross country running, rock climbing, mountain biking. All of them first place and all of them for a TAKAMOTO HIROSHI. Misaki's eye's landed on the bald man's name tag, pinned crookedly to his chest. Takamoto.

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The rooms were in the traditional Japanese style expected for any respectable back country inn that wanted to cater to tourist expectations. Paper sliding doors and tatami mat floor acted as back drop while Misaki stared at the extra suit case Akihiko had grabbed from the car's boot. It was a cheery canary yellow speckled with strawberry pink poka-dots. He shuddered. He didn't remember it from before in the hotel room. So intent was he at staring at it that he failed to notice the plastic bag the elder was waving before him.

"Oi! Earth to the flower child!" He blinked as the words took meaning in his brain.

"Hey! Leave my name alone bastard!" Akihiko shrugged, grinning as he shoved the bag against the other's skinny chest.

"Got your attention though didn't I?" The remark earned him a scalding glare. "Just take the bag already.

It took a minute as green eyes narrowed and lips turned down. Finally, the threat obviously delivered to his satisfaction he held out his hands and the bag fell in, causing him to dip slightly as it was heavier than he thought. He peered in and his curiosity was met with at least five bottles of lice killing shampoo, not to mention the conditioner. Vitamin bottles mixed with dental products and in between all these little paper packets, that he recognized as being similar to the type yeast came in, read out 'Power-BoostZ!' in neon colour.

"What the heck is a…" He tried sounding out the English letters "pa…wa…bo…?"

"It's protein powder."

"But I—"

"Don't argue with me Misaki, I refuse to be seen with a bean pole following me around. People will think I mistreat you." Cool fingers reached out and pinched the skin of Misaki's clearly emaciated arm without thinking. Lucky for him Misaki caught himself just in time, his fist stopped before it could connect with the author's cheek as he dodged to the side. Akihiko's grin immediately slipped as he realized his blunder.

"Sorry, I didn't…"

"It's alright. Anyways, who says I'm going to be following you anywhere?"

"I hired you, remember?"

"As what, your babysitter?"

"I can live with that." The look he got in return told him just how stupid Misaki thought he was. Akihiko gave him a smug grin.

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The night was quiet. Too quiet. Every noise was a thunder clap to his senses. Misaki lay there on the futon, body ridged as ice, feeling horribly exposed as all the hairs on his arm stood on end. His side going numb he turned only to freeze. There was something out there. Something that was not the rustle of bushes from a passing deer or the scratch of a raccoon on the roof. One of the floorboards in the hallway had given an audible creek.

An image of the guest book flashed through his mind. No one had checked into the inn for at least a month before they had. And he could hear the occasional snort and murmur from Akihiko just next door, as nothing divided them but thin paper. The inn keeper then? Paranoia, and general restlessness had led him to check out the premises earlier. Takamoto lived in a whole separate building out back.

Silently he rose, wishing for his knife and cursing his brother for making him watch Psycho at a young age. Carefully he tread, heel toe, hands outstretched for the door.

It opened with the slightest of creaks. Still he froze, hardly daring to breath but still he peered around the frame. Hairs rose on the back of his and he kept his eyes wide.

At the end of the hall moonlight streamed in from a tall window, turning the pitch black of night into shaded blue outlines, edges unclear even when focusing. There, directly below stood a man. The moon gleamed off his bald head and in his hands he clutched a bundle. His posture though, told Misaki this was no invited guest. It was then that their eyes connected across the stretch of dark hallway.

For a second the world stopped as the two stood, connected by a glance, breaths frozen. And then the man bolted.

Like a rocket Misaki shot from the doorway. Bare feet ate up the hardwood floor as he flew down the hallway, one hand reaching out to grab the corner as he swung round the bend just in time to see the other turn round another. Misaki bolted after him. At the next corner he saw he had gained ground on the other. He imagined himself a bird, his flight seamless as he bore down on the thief. Almost there.

Sacrificing momentum he reached out, so close was he. But not close enough. Fingertips just brushed the end of the other's long coat. He pumped harder, feeling the wind blow his hair from his face. The man speed up and Misaki forced himself to forget all boundaries, telling himself to go faster. Harder. He was weightless, the wind itself.

Once again he reached out, and this time he caught the hem of the over coat. But the man was a step ahead. He pulled but too late he realized what the other was doing. The cloth made no sound over the rush of blood in his ears as it slipped from the thief's shoulders and with a small yelp, the first sound he had uttered all night, Misaki pitched forward, legs unable to keep up. His chin rammed the floor boards and he was certain he would find dried blood on his knees the next morning. For a second he lay there dazed, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

The jump to his feet left him dizzy, but it didn't matter. The thief was gone.

He clutched his chin and groaned.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

"Misaki?"

Said burnet's head shot up from studying the coat as he tread slowly back towards he room. Wide, startled eyes met Akihiko's. And the man realized it was a look he was getting used to.

"U-Usagisan…" Said man took a step towards his friend, about to reach out, the instinct to touch not even registering, only for the other to flinch. It was quickly suppressed, but still there. The author smiled reassuringly, but he didn't think it was seen in the darkness of the hall.

"What's going on?"

"Th-there…there was a thief. A-at least I-I-I think he wa-was a thief. He ran whe-when he saw me." The smile slipped and Akihiko stepped back from his doorway, a clear invitation.

"And you ran after him?"

"Yeah." Misaki's voice was a quiet mumble, the drain of adrenaline in his system left him feeling small and vulnerable. Without knowing it he leaned imperceptibly towards the author's mass.

"Can I?" Slowly, making sure he was in the other's line of vision Akihiko stretched out a hand for the shadowy mass Misaki was carrying. Wordlessly Misaki slipped it into his grasp and the elder realized it was fabric. He held it out, taking in the silhouette of an overcoat.

"Th-the man gave i-it up whe-when I grabbed him." Akihiko nodded and turned to reach for the chain that acted as a light switch. Misaki gave a violent jerk as the light naked bulb hit well-adjusted eyes. Akihiko snorted.

"Come here you vampire and tell me what you see." Glaring Misaki took one end of the coat and Akihiko took the other.

"What exactly am I doing? And why for that matter." Akihiko smiled at the loss of the stammer, something he knew would happen at the tease. A ticked off Misaki was a confident Misaki.

"Oh, I don't know. Anything unusual. Something to tell up who the man was."

"Since when were you Sherlock Holmes?"

"Didn't I tell you that I moonlight as a Victorian vigilante? Don't tell anyone though, it's a secret. Can't have my nemesis finding out who I really am."

"And who are you really? Hmm?" Misaki's face twisted in mock suspicion, the scares of the night thoroughly forgotten? "Clark Kent? Should I be knocking before walking into phone booths." Akihiko snorted.

"If you can find one. And it's not a sixties British police box."

"What?"

"You have so much pop culture to catch up on when we return to civilization." Misaki looked like he was about to tell Akihiko exactly where he could shove his pop culture when said rabbit gave a small exclamation of triumph.

"What is it?"

"Here! Have a look?" The small waded piece of paper Misaki found shoved under his nose turned out to be a receipt from what was probably a local convenience store, dated for the day before. For less than a thousand yen someone had managed to purchase some scissors, razors and a bottle of shampoo.

"So we've got their shopping list, big whoop."

"Yes big whoop. Let's go into town tomorrow and ask whoever's at the register. Maybe they'll recognize the coat." Misaki's stomach dropped at the prospect of all those potholes. Or perhaps it was at the prospect of having to talk to strangers.

Suddenly tomorrow just wasn't far enough away.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

The next morning's search for the inn keeper in order to report the night's events proved fruitless. He was nowhere to be found.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

The visit to town proved also to be a complete failure, the cashier who had been on duty at the time of the purchase had left for the army of all things.

After a painful shopping experience what could not have passed fast enough, they got Misaki another change of clothes and left, back to the inn.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

It was Akihiko who proposed it.

"You up for a hike?"

"Hike?"

"Yeah, this place is famous for its waterfall. Healthy exercise, you know?" The incredulous look did not deter the author. While he himself abhorred exercise, it had not escaped his notice the way Misaki's right hand continued to flex, fingers twitching as they struggled to find purchase over the wire strings of an instrument that wasn't there. He knew, better than anyone, that forgetting these things could only be accomplished with a mind set on a task, and hiking seemed like the perfect opportunity.

"Shouldn't we report to the police."

"The police can wait. Let's get this over and done with. And personally, I don't want you anywhere near any of them."

"…right."

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+ (Pomp and Circumstance-Elgar)

"It's hot." A beat or two passed. "You could fry an egg on my neck." There was no reply. "My feet hurt." That, apparently, was the last straw.

"Shut up! You've been complaining since we left the bloody inn! You're the one who decided to go fucking hiking dressed like you're going to a fucking business conference! And this was your fucking idea in the first place!"

"Really Misaki, there's no need to over react."

"That's it! I'm going back! You can go see your shitty waterfall on your own!" And with that the teen pivoted in his beat up trainers and marched back down the dust mountain trail, shoulders set in clear determination. He was tired, hot, and hungry, and all that minor irritations compared to the constant itch in his brain for music and a violin.

"Miiiiisaaaaki, don't leave me." Though the younger did not reply verbally the rude gesture was clearly meant for Akihiko. "Miiisaaaaaaaakiiii!" The addressed did not slow. Resigned Akihiko clambered after him, managing the rocks and roots with a skill that belonged to a man wearing patent leather dress shoes and whose greatest adventures were to venture down the street for a cup of coffee.

He really hadn't meant to anger Misaki that much, but he really did hate hiking and had been bored. With a sigh he unknotted his tie and in a few brisk movements had unbuttoned his formerly stiff and well pressed but now sweat dampened and hopelessly wrinkled shirt revealing the wife beater underneath. The tie was stuffed carelessly in his back pocket and the shirt allowed to flutter nicely in the slight wind that came from being this high up.

He could see Misaki, just a little ahead, his grey t-shirt darkened in a strip down his back, sticking to the flesh. Baggy jeans had been rolled up and the little hairs around the nap of his neck were also soaked with sweat, curling darkly against his reddened flesh.

Eventually they reentered the tree line and the relief, though slight, was welcome. To their right the ground dropped sharply, a sheer cliff that seemingly plunged downwards for kilometers, its base being steadily carved out by a swift river, white with rapids. The tunnel of trees was mercilessly short, they could already see the sunbaked path on the other side, just a rocky protrusion, the same that continued through most of the hike.

Misaki turned slightly to shoot the author a withering glare, mouth open to speak, and it was for this reason that he did not see it. A strangled sound escaped Akihiko as his pace quickened towards the two men that had appeared further down the path.

They were struggling together in a desperate fight, one of the men easily identifiable with his tan coat and rain hat as Takamoto. The other man looked to be a stranger from their distance, bald and dressed in the simply garb of a monk. It was this man who seemed to be losing, his face turning first a bright red then the purple of a bruise as the inn keeper kept him in a choke hold. A shout of alarm came from behind him as Akihiko rushed forward and Takamoto took a step towards the edge, his prey firmly in his grasp. The author watched as Misaki shot like an arrow from behind him, reaching out, but it was not a wide path.

One more step was all Takamoto needed for him to reach the edge and release his grip.

It was only Akihiko's hand at the back of his t-shirt that kept Misaki from toppling over the edge from the momentum. Both watched the river swallow the small silhouette of the man, their faces drained of blood and eyes impossibly wide. It was on autopilot that Akihiko pulled Misaki back, bony shoulder blades an uncomfortable pressure on his chest and the rock wall jutting painfully into his back.

Almost simultaneously they remembered the inn keeper, their gazes together turning just in time to watch the tan flash of his coat disappear around the bend. Immediately Misaki ripped himself from Akihiko's grip, and was flying down the path after the man. Akihiko had no hope of catching up but still the author ran. He was grateful on pulling his mobile out of his pocket only to see the crossed circle where the bars should be.

Though he didn't notice, the skies began to darken as the first clouds drew near.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Takamoto Hiroshi hung from a single rope, one end tied fast to a beam of the ceiling, the other tight beneath his chin. Beneath his feet a chair lay on its side.

This wasn't like the movies. The hood over his head almost made it worse. Knowing what was beneath but being unable to know for certain. As it had ceased functioning the body had expelled its waste and the smell had already creeped across the room.

Before it all Misaki sat silent and staring, still collapsed where his legs had failed him. He didn't react as Akihiko's arms went around him, pulling him to his feet and leading him back towards the door. Akihiko could feel the first shivers from where he pressed the boy to his chest as he slid the door closed before guiding them down the hallway to their room.

Carefully he led Misaki to a cushion in front of the low table. Emerald eyes were dull as they stared straight ahead. With reluctance he rose to leave, to make his way to the phone at the front desk. Windows rattled at the sudden gust of strong wind.

The halls were silent. Of course they had been so before, what with them being the only two guests at the inn, but the silence now was different. It was muffling, oppressive. He found himself putting a little more pressure into his steps, just to hear the sound of his heels on the hard wood and he was thankful he hadn't paused to change shoes when he entered.

He also wondered if it had been in anticipation of the storm that Takamoto had worn the coat. Because really, who wears a heavy coat like that in this heat?

He needed to take care of Misaki. He wondered at the detached feeling that had come over him. And then he wondered if he was just using Misaki as an excuse to not fall apart himself.

He gave a small jump when he turned to return to their room only to be met with those wide, staring emeralds, for there Misaki stood, not two paces from him. How the teen had followed him from the room without a noise he didn't know. Maybe he just hadn't noticed. It didn't matter.

"The phone won't connect."

There was no response. It was almost a full minute of them staring at each other before Akihiko understood and with a small movement he held out his arms. It took another moment where Misaki seemed to be making up his mind, his gaze never leaving Akihiko's, seemingly searching for something, before he seemed to find it, and with a lingering hesitation stepped forward. Carefully Akihiko pulled him closer.

Time slipped like sand through fingers, for soon the halls were dark once more. It was the first thunderclap that startled them and stiffly they separated.

"So no phone is no police. Food then? Why don't you go see if…you know has a fridge somewhere. I'll go fetch your protein powder." Again there was no reply, so with nothing to indicate he shouldn't, Akihiko turned and walked back down the hallway towards their room. Lightning imprinted a freeze frame of the author's retreating back into Misaki's mind before he too turned.

A light was still on, glowing orange from a doorway behind the front desk. Listlessly Misaki walked towards it. The room was small. A desk, a chair, a computer, and shelves upon shelves of gleaming trophies. The computer was still one, green eyes reading fast the information up on Takamoto's Facebook page. Someone had posted a picture of a glacial lake, surrounded by pines and on the left column ran a list of joined groups, the theme of them shared among the many trophies. Misaki reached for the mouse, curious, when with a distinct noise the screen when black as the rest of the world did too.

He jerked back and his back rammed hard into a shelf. With a crash to rival the storm outside the whole thing pitched forward, trophies raining down on him. It was luck that the room was so narrow and the shelf was not allowed to topple all the way, instead stopping as it connected with its partner on the opposite wall. More trophies were sent crashing down and for a second Misaki wondered a silly wonder if this was how he was going to die.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Returning with a pack of the powder in hands Akihiko pause, his feet finding they could go no further, stopped before the room…the room Takamoto was in. Something was nagging at him. Pulling at his subconscious. Something he had noticed but now.

Under the sound of rain drumming the roof Akihiko slid open the door. Darkness greeted him and something deep down, the same primal instinct that gave a fear of darkness, stopped him from entering the room of the dead man.

He did not need to enter though, for with a flash stark white illuminated the room.

And he saw, there on Takamoto's feet.

House slippers.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

"We should probably tell the others." Akihiko jerked up from where he had been writing, startled by the first words Misaki had spoken since the…incident. Yes, incident. Misaki was a quiet person by nature, but this silence was different and Akihiko was thankful it was over, even if he didn't understand the sentence.

"Others?"

"Other monks. We passes a temple on our drive up." Akihiko cast a glance at the rain lashing to windows.

"Not tonight we aren't"

"If it clears up in the morning?"

"Yes."

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

It did not clear up but Misaki was shrugging on a raincoat anyways. It had belong to the owner of the hotsprings but Misaki hadn't said anything about it so neither did he. The look on the brunet's face said there was no arguing with his going and Akihiko wasn't about to try exerting physical force. He was not his father.

That didn't mean he would be letting Misaki go alone. Luckily there were two raincoats.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

The wind had blown their hoods off so many times they had just stopped bothering so that by the time they had finished skirting the edges of the road so as to avoid the veritable river down the center, their hair was thoroughly plastered to their skulls and they were blinking rapidly just so as to see just where they were stepping. Water gushed from the tiled roof in a waterfall but by this time they didn't think twice about going through it in order to reach the relative dryness of the temple porch. The wind put the rain at a slant so it hardly qualified but it was better than nothing. Akihiko rang the doorbell to the living quarters with Misaki a small figure huddled at his side, the opposite of where the rain was coming from. The candles in the stone lanterns that had lined their ascent had long ago gone out. Akihiko was just glad they were alive, especial considering the trip they had taken up all those stairs, each one slick enough to make death by broken neck a very real prospect.

The door slid just a crack before opening all the way and before they knew it they were being forcefully ushered inside. With a click the door slid shut behind them and suddenly the roar of the storm became a nothing but a threatening growl. The green light from outside filtered through the rice paper windows above them until it almost seemed warm. They had little time to think of this though for they were being ushered through the hallways, their coats being almost forcefully taken from them only to be replaced with the towels roughly thrust into their hands. They didn't even have time to change their shoes.

Two of the monks had them by the arms and Akihiko could not a get a word in edgewise around the repeated, "You poor dears!" "What were you doing out there?" "Come let's get you something hot to eat." "You're soaked through!" Misaki followed a quiet shadow, his shoulders hunched and muscles stiff at the unfamiliar touches.

Akihiko looked back to see wide green eyes fixed on him, asking for him to do something. And with their image fixed in his mind he stopped. Except the two monks took no notice. Their hands left the rain sodden figures as they stepped forward to slid open the door before them.

He wasn't sure how they hadn't noticed it before. The room was packed full with people. A table set against the far wall had more of the temples monk's behind it, ladling what looked like soup and rice, and various steamed vegetables into the waiting bowls of men, women, and children, all making up a line that stretched around the room and out another door. The center of the room was packed with even more people, all crowded around low tables, sitting and kneeling on cushions, greedily downing their meals. It looked like Misaki had realised what was happening before it finally dawned on the author. It was a soup kitchen.

"Now just get in line over there, we'll get you a bowl right away, no fuss, alright?"

"No, I'm sorry, there's been some mis—"

"It's alright, don't worry about it, we'll take care of it."

And then something Akihiko didn't expect happened. From behind him Misaki steped, chin high and eyes alight with determination.

"We are not here for a meal." Their two escorts stopped their fussing and looked down at the brunet. Akihiko could see the boy's hands trembling where he had them clenched behind him, but his voice was firm. "We have to tell you something. That's why we came." One of the monks frown, studying Misaki. Akihiko watched as understanding dawns and the man's face grew serious.

"What is it?"

"It's something we should say in private." The man nodded before motioning his partner to go help somewhere else in the room.

"Follow me."

And then once again they were going through the door and down the hall. A left and a right and another sliding door and they were in what looked to be a private kitchen, set aside for the monks of the temple.

"Forgive me. We have many who come here looking for a meal it is strange to find any seeking something else. Please call me Maeda." He gave a slight bow at the introduction that Akihiko and Misaki returned.

"Please, I am Usami Akihiko and this is my friend Takahashi Misaki. The fault is ours. We should not have come as we did but our news could not wait." Maeda gestured to the kotatsu, an odd bit of furniture for the middle of summer but it was likely, judging by the scene they had witness that all available room for storage were being used otherwise and they couldn't put it away for the summer. They sat. It was a bit obvious Misaki did not know exactly how, but a quick look at Akihiko gave him the jist of it.

"Now please, tell we what it is you have to say."

"We…ah…" And then the author was lost for words. Misaki's eyes flew to his. He was counting on Akihiko being able to talk so that he could return to his quiet. There was fear in those emerald eyes and Akihiko decided he had best start at the beginning.

"We are guests at the hotsprings a few kilometers up the road. Earlier today we…" How did one go about saying this. He was a writer. If he wanted to he could put down on paper the word for word dialogue, express the second by second passes of emotion. Every sentence exactly how he wanted it. But this wasn't a world of ink and paper. This was a world of flesh and blood. He could not control the emotions that Maeda would feel, he could not brush them aside like he would for a minor character in a story. Instead he would have to look the man in the eye and watch the emotions as they showed themselves, raw, naked and very, very real. He swallowed.

"We went on a hike. On the way back we were witness to a struggle. It was between two men. One of them was the owner of the inn were we are staying. The other was clearly a monk from this temple. There…the path was very narrow. And…" And as he looked into Maeda's eyes he could see that the man already knew what he was going to say. "I know I have no right to say this, but we could not reach him in time. Misakikun…almost fell himself trying to save him." Misaki made no move to correct his address.

Pain, it filled Maeda's eyes and he knew there was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say. There was a feather light touch against his thigh before Misaki's finger's curled around the loose fabric of his sleeve. And held on.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

There was a framed newspaper article on the wall of the monks' private dining area. It was dated five years ago and seemed to be a local publication, the name of it corresponding to the small town at the base of the mountain. Akihiko read it as they waited, though he was unsure of what. Maeda had left almost immediately after getting over the shock.

It was a brief article and spoke of the renovations to this temple in terms of the expansion of the building in order to set up a homeless shelter. The whole thing had be thought up and brought to life by one Matsura Naoki. With a jolt Akihiko realized that it was the man they had watched die. He was the only one missing from the temple. His was also the smiling face beaming in the photograph as he stood proud against a back drop of this very temple save it was covered in scaffolding. Unable to read more he turned, only to find Misaki behind him, eyes fixed on the photograph.

Gently, if full sight of the other, he brought a hand to the brunet's shoulder. He was almost astonished when boney shoulder's relaxed under his touch and without thinking he did what, at that moment, seemed like the most natural action in the world.

Misaki was made of sharp angles and he felt like he was pressing every single one of them to his body as he held Misaki in a loose hug. And continued to hold him. He could feel that he too was relaxing and as the stress leaked away he instead thought about how warm Misaki was against him. Lavender eyes slid close as he went from hugging the other to leaning against him, letting the sound of the rain and the scent of the brunet fill his world and leave room for nothing else. Until Misaki felt it was time for a quick jab in the ribs.

"Ow!" He jerked back, a hand going to cover the painful spot.

"Don't fall asleep on me. If you do there is no way I can hold you up." The words, though spoken harshly, were accompanied by eyes that spoke of the jest behind them, but also the worry. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes Akihiko collapsed into a cushion while dragging Misaki down with him via a strong grip to one skinny wrist. Said boy gave a startled squack. Akihiko paid him no mind, and as soon as the brunet looked stabled enough the author all but collapsed onto him and once more closed his eyes.

"There, no worried."

"Spoiled brat."

But Misaki made no move to dislodge the arms around his waist or the chin hooked over his shoulder, and as the larger man's body relaxed into a light doze he let his hand find one of the author's and slowly began to run his thumb over the soft skin of the other's knuckles. He sighed and closed his eyes. And relaxed.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

The storm had lasted two days and during it they had been given good meals and a place to sleep. Granted due to the shortage of beds they had been forced to share what could not have been more than a twin. Strangely enough it had not been awkward, perhaps due to their complete exhaustion but when Misaki had woken that morning, the sound of the rain gone and half crushed by the weight of his bed partner he realized that it had been the best sleep he had gotten in what was probably three years. Perhaps more considering the circumstances he had left. And this troubled him. He did not speak of it though to Akihiko. He had woken before the author instead and laid, more relaxed that he felt he should be, listening to the birds as they too woke in the grey hour that harkened the sun. The smell of pine and cedar was heavy in the air, still cool and damp from the rain. And he had realized something while lying there. Something simple, but something that almost made him rocket from the bed, heavy crushing weight or not. It was this. He would remember this moment for the rest of his life. For right now, this was what peace was.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. He was not generally one for talking, this he realized and tried to fix before people noticed and thought there to be something wrong with him. But with Akihiko he did not feel that he would be called out for his silence. And this too bothered him. This certainty that he could trust the author. Every fiber of his being, instincts honed from years of experience, told him that to trust someone he had known for a little over a week was not wise, but for some reason he kept forgetting, and trusting Akihiko without a second thought. And so breakfast had been quiet, because more than any other time of the day he wished for silence in the mornings. When he had still been going to school he used to sacrifice sleep, just so that he might wake up before any others in his family and have the morning to himself. It had been a method of control. If he had had that, he had been able to make it through the crowded hallways and the almost deafening roar of lunch time. If he didn't have his quiet mornings then things went wrong. They always did. He hadn't even played his violin in the mornings. Noise just didn't belong.

And now he didn't speak to Akihiko. Not even a good morning as the man had climbed off him, murmuring apologies. Instead he had just smiled and nodded, ignoring how the sound of the words grated against his nerves. Something must had shocked Akihiko for the man spent a good few just looking at him before smiling softly in return and rising fully from the bed. The other did not say anything else after that, just smiling at him as together they went to find food.

There was some rice and fish on the kitchen counter and a pot of miso on the stove. They were told to help themselves and by some silent concession they each did and left the kitchen. They found themselves sitting on one of the porches, feet dangling over the edge as they ate. Perhaps they were closer than necessary, perhaps they weren't.

Misaki had focused on what was before him. Never had he seen such a sight. Below them the world dropped, a craggy ravine hidden by the tops on pines and cedars and other evergreen trees. They seemed to stretch forever in a sea of muted green as the mist curled around their tops, in some places obscuring all behind it from view. There was no wind yet and the whole world seemed to stand still, all the way to the mountains far in the distance, hazy shapes against a pearl sky, their own shades like that of azuki beans(1). The call of the birds slowly grew as the world woke up before them and the two sat to witness it. And in it Misaki realized just how small he and Akihiko were in comparison. So insignificant, and yet not so. For they were part of this too. This was the world at her finest and they were part of it.

Finally Misaki looked away and realized that Akihiko's hair was the shade of that sky, and his eyes just as soft at those distant mountains. And he had wanted to say thank you. Thank you for taking him away from the hell that was the city and bringing him to see this. Thank you for giving him such a gift, worth more than all the jewels in the world. For as he watched Akihiko he could feel something swell in his breast, growing bigger and bigger until he felt he could keep it in no longer. His finger's twitched for a violin, for some way to lay it out. The music took shape in his mind and grew along with the feeling in his chest as his eyes stayed on the author.

It was then that he realized that the wetness on his cheeks was too damp for just the touch of the mist. Curling up he hid his face in his knees. The first sob shook him and there was nothing he could do the hold it back. And the silence broke between them but it didn't matter, because he was happy. Despite everything he was happy. And he didn't know what to do with it.

Akihiko's arms were warm around him and his smile warmer still. Misaki looked at him through his tears and smiled back. Because he was happy. And when people were happy that's what they did. And Akihiko's smile widened even more and then the laugh came, bubbling up and spilling over. And there was nothing he could do. Laughter, bright and dancing, filled the space between them, filled the silence that were his mornings, and his face was being pressed against Akihiko's neck as he felt the elder's chest vibrate with his own silent laughter. And it was ok. And he would remember this forever.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Their last meal at the temple was lunch, spent in the crowded public dining room. They had managed to get their own table, tucked away in a corner, Misaki even more so as such a space disturbed him and any kind of noise made behind his back just made it worse. Akihiko had been reading the newspaper article and talking to the monks and was trying to explain just why anyone would set up a shelter so far from any city.

"It's too get away from it all. I'm sure you understand."

"Yes, but it's so hard to get to. What if you just need a bed for the night?" He balanced a bit of the provided oyakodon between his chopsticks as he spoke. Absently he wondered how they managed to serve such food as what he had been eating. He also wondered why they were serving a dinner dish for lunch. He supposed lunched were just a chance to get rid of the left overs before dinner and this was what they had.

"It's not for a casual stay. It's to provide prefunded housing and meals in order that the people here don't have to worry about it while looking for jobs. It really makes for a tight knit community here."

"Jobs where?"

"Down at the town."

"Isn't that a bit far away?"

"They provide a shuttle service."

"Where does all this money come from?"

"They have many sponsors."

"Okay." It was obvious Misaki didn't want to talk and Akihiko let him have his silence. Misaki was a quiet person, but he had different types of silences. Some came from not knowing what to say and were awkward in nature. Some came from him feeling threatened and not wanting attention draw to himself. Some were a boiling, seething silence where he knew any words to come from his mouth would be poison and so he kept them firmly restrained. This silence though was peace. This was a silence where Misaki felt nothing needed to be said because the world was alright without his words in it, and he was content to just listen.

Akihiko knew silence. It had been his companion as he had grown. More often than not the silence had come from an absence, a gap that was not filled. Kind words or tender promises from a mother. Laughs and jokes from close friends. Silence had been his companion as he had grown. It was always there, so much so that when it wasn't he found himself missing it. And so he left Misaki keep his quiet. He liked it that way.

It was in their silence that they listened to the others in the room. A mother trying to encourage her child to eat the green peppers, (Akihiko shuddered. Misaki gave him an odd look.) two friends discussing baseball scores. It was at the table next to theirs that he caught word that made him perk up and lean a bit back.

"Anyone seen Yamada recently?" A middle aged man was setting down his tray at a table with two others, obvious friends.

"Not recently no. Just wondering about him myself to tell the truth." The man to reply leaned back in his chair, making him closer to Akihiko. The man looked worried.

"Last I saw he was off to town. Said some loony gave him more than ten thousand at an exit. He was off to the bank to start an account." A smile spread across the face of the original speaker.

"Good for him then! But no one's seen him since?"

"I'll ask around, but I really haven't."

With the conversation moving on to other topics Akihiko brought his attention back to Misaki. From the other's worried expression it was obvious he too had been listening, his well-trained ears better able to pick out the individual voices in the crowded room. And then he smirked at the author, and amethyst eyes narrowed. He was not a loony, thank you very much.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

Life teemed in the woods around them as they walked back up the mountain. From above the golden light found them through the mess of leaves, bringing with it a cacophony of bird song. As evening came the cidadas began their choruses, grating just on the edge of their nerves. Rain still dripped form the canopy above and soaked their clothes when they brushed against fern fronds or the low branches of cedars. Akihiko supposed it was better than their god awful hike before, but considering how that ended, anything could be classed as better.

If nothing else it was peaceful, if not a little boring, but the amazes faces Misaki was making as he stared up and around at a world he had never before seen made up for that he supposed.

They skirted the edges of their deer trail where the storm had made wide puddles but Misaki's shorter strides were not enough to save him from the mud. Akihiko smirked, Misaki pulled a face at him.

"I wish the world was this." The words surprised him. Or rather, the fact that Misaki had chosen to instigate a conversation surprised him.

"Like this?"

"Yes. This." And he held his hands up to the trees, short sleeves falling down his pale, spindly arms. "When I die, I want to go here."

"You know I grew up with a forest outside my house." Misaki turned to him, eyes bright and eager. He went on. "I would escape there every day I could. I had a notebook you know, and a tree I would sit beneath to write. And, I think you're right. I wish the world was like this."

And then Misaki smiled. His eyes crinkled to emerald slits and his cheeks stretched to dimples, and Akihiko felt his breath leave him then. Misaki looked like he belonged to the forest then. Like one of the fae of the old stories, come to trick him out of a strand of hair or a favourite memory. There was always something wild about Misaki, something not quite hidden beneath the shell of anxiety and fear. And now he could see it. He smiled back, just as wide.

"This place needs a song." And Akihiko's smile dropped.

"I'm sorry." Misaki turned back to him, for he had turned away, grazing in wonder at the patterns of lace made by the hanging mosses. He seemed to come understand what the author was saying without giving it words. Slowly, with only the slightest hesitation he touched the elder's arm feather light, but still there. He didn't remove it as he replied.

"You saved my life. I…" His face crumpled and then there was Misaki again, the one he had grown familiar with, brow wrinkled and eyes staring at his feet. "You've done so much." And Akihiko knew where this was going. Slowly he cupped both sides of the teen's face and raised his head.

"Look at me Misaki." It took longer than a moment but with visible effort Misaki raised his eyes from his shoes. "Misaki, I have more money than I would be able to spend in a dozen life times. I'm about to buy myself a shop in London for fuck's sake. Do you know just how ridiculously expensive that is? No, don't answer, that was rhetorical. My point is I have too much money. I'm the kind of person who can go down the Champs-Élysée and never have to look at a price tag. I'll take you there one day. Fuck it wall, I'm one of those people who just throws money at a problem to make it go away. The only reason I work is to save myself from the reality of having so much money! But that's not the point. The point is that I have money coming out of my ears and am just earning more and more, especially since they turned one of my books into a movie. So, say, if I wanted to buy you the Taj Mahal, there is nothing you can do to stop me. It's not your decision." Misaki was glowering at him. He released the teen from his hands.

"You-You are so-AAAARGH!" And with that Misaki threw his hands in the air and marched away, his feet leaving clear impressions in the moss, and making a racket as he went. In fact, Akihiko was so focused on him that he almost missed it. A flicker of movement to his right.

He whipped his head around and was just in time to see a face watching him. For less than a second they locked eyes, before the other's face registered the shock and quick as a flash was gone. And Akihiko frowned.

He knew that face.

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The stink in the pump house was bad. Really bad. Bad enough that it threatened to overwhelm his sense even as he held his breath and squeezed his nose shut with one hand. His eyes watered, he began to feel dizzy and he hadn't even entered yet. He took careful, deep breaths as he stood outside the door, filling his lungs as much as possible every time and making them fast enough to get some oxygen into his blood stream. And then he plunged.

Or rather he quickly opened the door, flipped on the torch and crossed the room in swift strides. His eyes were streaming but he quickly whipped the tears back.

And then he tore the hood from the corpse. He figured he would do it like one would tear off a bandaid, except it didn't work like that. He allowed himself a second to blink away tears from that GOD AWEFUL STENCH and looked down.

He sprinted from the little room faster than he thought possible and only just made it out before he was bent over, hands on his knees and emptying his stomach into the mud.

Akihiko squeezed his eyes shut, whether in pain or despair even he did not know, but whatever it was, he chose to dwell on only one thought. He needed a shower. Now.

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+

"So I got the generator working. There's water now and—Usagisan?" Misaki looked a little wide eyed up at Akihiko where the man had stopped right in front of him. The man had come charging down the porch, clearly on a mission.

"Misaki!"

"Um…yes?"

"I could kiss you!" And with that he took the brunet's face between each of his hands and planted a great smacking kiss right on his mouth, "mmmmwah!" sound effect and all. Misaki could only stare at him, mouth slack and face fast turning a healthy shade of red. A noise came out of the back of his throat, something not quite human and Akihiko gave him a pat on the shoulder as he continued down the hallway.

"God I need a shower!"

Misaki tried not to pass out.

Carefully he leaned himself against the wall before sinking down to hide his head between his knees and focus of breathing. Akihiko didn't know what he was doing. He was just excited. About having a shower…? Why not, the man was mad anyways. Just earlier Misaki had discovered that the eye blinding pink and yellow suitcase had been brought along specifically for transporting what had to be the biggest teddy bear he had seen in his life. The man was mad. He concentrated on that fact, that phrase. How had they said it in the Phantom of the Opera? He remembered the scale dropping only to rise again at the next sentence. He thought about the song and then about the score. It was a fairly easy one, a little beneath him if he were to be prideful. Despite that he concentrated on it. Letting the music swell and clash inside him mind.

It was because Misaki was very carefully thinking of this and concentrating entirely on warding off the rising panic that he did not hear the other approach.

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"Misaki! Misaki! Look!"

It was with those words that Akihiko came streaking out of the hot spring changing room and down the hallway in nothing but a tower. A tad bit wetter and he would have had a stream of water trailing behind him. As it was, his footprints on the hard wood of the hallway were damaging enough.

"Misaki!"

Akihiko flew around the corner only to freeze.

It was not easy at first to understand what was happening. A man had Misaki pressed close to his chest, and a wire in the man's hands was wrapped around Misaki's throat. Between the wire and the tender flesh of his neck Misaki had managed to slip a hand but it wasn't helping. The strain on his face was clear, but so too was the rage. Emerald eyes were fixed on his attacker's face, burning with a wild light and his other hand was above and behind him. Akihiko watched, frozen, as Misaki's nails dug into the flesh beneath his attacker's chin, all that he could reach at the awkward angle. The attacker tucked his chin in only for Misaki to find purchase on the collar of his gi. Misaki pulled. They went rolling, one over the other, each unwilling to relinquish their hold. Over the edge of the porch they went.

The cry of the man as he hit concrete snapped Akihiko out of his shock.

"Misaki!" He jumped to the concrete himself, just in time to catch the man with his body on all fours over a struggling Misaki. The man had both hands around the brunet's neck and Akihiko took it his chance. Just as Misaki's foot found purchase on the other's stomach and kicked, Akihiko had an arm around the man's neck and his other twisting the attacker's own arm behind his back. The man struggled forward, ignoring the pain until Akihiko felt a pop that set his teeth on edge and he could tell by the outline in the other's sleeve that the stranger had dislocated his own shoulder.

By then it was too late for the man though. Misaki had finished scrambling in his short's pockets.

Sunlight glinted off the edge of the steel as the teen let just the tip of his knife press to the others Adam's apple.

"Akihiko, his obi." The author understood and with quick movements he undid the square knot and had it around their captive's wrists. With the excess he tied the man to one of the support pillars along the edge of the porch.

"Right. I'm calling the police." Misaki looked at him, panting, with his hair as wild as his eyes, but the question plain. The knife had mysteriously disappeared. He shrugged.

"My editor called while I was bathing. I guess with no storm we have service." Misaki nodded but made no move to run at the mention of police, his eyes leaving Akihiko's, only for them to go lower, before he gave a startled almost squeak and his hands flew to cover his eyes. Akihiko looked down. And then back at the porch. There lay his towel, exactly where it had fallen. He smirked.

Curiously the man said nothing throughout the phone call.

Choosing to forget about the towel, or rather, lack of, since he wasn't going to let Misaki alone to watch their captive in order that he might retrieve cloths, and he knew Misaki wasn't going to leave either, he focused on the stranger, or rather.

"Matsura Naoki, pleasure to make your acquaintance. Tell me, what's the weather like up there?" The man only glared at him. Misaki's face showed his confusion but still he did not look in his direction.

"M-Matsura? You mean?"

"Exactly. This man here is our supposed victim in that struggle on the cliff we were so graciously allowed audience too. I can only surmise that he must have learned how to fly between then and now. So, what is life above the clouds?" The man continued to glare, only that this time it was accompanied with speech.

"I'm innocent. I didn't do anything." Akihiko snorted before crossing his arms before his bare chest. He supposed it looked a bit silly without clothes on but he felt he had the confidence to pull it off.

"Innocent of what, my good man? I haven't accused you of anything." The man actually had the audacity to spit at him. Now he really wished he had his towel. As if Misaki had read his mind he found the knife being pressed into his hand before the teen went over and retrieved the towel, returning it to Akihiko without once looking at him.

"Thank you Misaki."

"Just explain what you're going on about baka usagi."

"I'm not sure if I like that name."

"Just shut up and get on with it."

"I'm sorry, but that seems like an either or action. Is it that you wanted me to shut, or was it to get on with it. I'm confused."

"You stupid rabbit! Just explain yourself!" The brunet threw his hands in the air and glared daggers at the author. Akihiko smiled. Misaki had looked at him again. He ruffled the other's hair.

"Calm yourself my dear fiddler, for I shall explain."

"You are entirely too full of yourself."

"Aw, don't be like that."

"Just explain yourself idiot."

"Well you see…" He drew out the word.

"You're doing it on purpose."

"Yup."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Right."

"If you would only let me explain."

"I wish you would."

"As I was saying…" He fiddled with the knife in his hand as he looked for the words, belatedly realizing it was his own and wondering how Misaki had gotten it. "While we met Matsura out of the trail, he was not who we thought he was. For instead of being the attacked, he was the attacker." Misaki was silent for a while as he seemed to contemplate this. Or perhaps it was to build up the courage to form his next question.

"Then who did we see go over…over the cliff?" Misaki shuddered and Akihiko laid a hand on his shoulder without really realizing what he was doing, running his thumb over the tense muscle he found there.

"The owner of this hot spring." Another shudder ran through the thin frame and Akihiko gave a brief squeeze. It was then that Matsura attempted to plead his case again.

"I tell you! I didn't do—" His words were silenced by the heavy weight of the knife handle connecting with his skull. Akihiko went on.

"What we saw was Takamotosan dress as Matsura is now, and Matsura had dressed himself as Takamotosan. It is no fault of our own that we would not have being able to recognize them. We only saw Takamotosan briefly and both of us had our minds on something else. Along with that, we witnessed the struggle at a bit of a distance and we had just emerged from an area of relative shade into bright sun light. So, instead we saw what we were supposed to see, no more and no less."

"But how…hold on, that thief! That was this man here. He was stealing some of Takamotosan's clothes."

"Yes, unfortunately that was not the only thing he did that night. I thought that the body was limp when we brought him to the pump house because he had just died and rigor mortis hadn't had time to set in, but it was the other way around. In the heat rigor mortis had already set then left again by the time we discovered the body. It had been hanging there all night and for most of the day." At those words a green look settled over Misaki's face, but he seemed to push his way through it.

"But you said Takamoto was the one pushed over the cliff."

"Correct. The body was not that of Takamoto's. Do you remember the discussion we over heard at the temple."

"Of the men who hadn't seen their friend? Your saying that that body. The one…h-hanged…th-that was the man we saw…saw at the exit?"

"Yes. I'm assuming the receipt we found in Matsura here's pocket went with the purchases he used to get close to the poor soul."

"You mean the shampoo…but why include that man? There was no need for him."

"Now this is speculation, but Matsura needed the investigation closed up. I think. I do not know his motive though."

"So your saying…he needed it so that it would look like an open and shut case…"

"Open and shut case? You sound like a tv show Misaki." Akihiko smirked at him but Misaki didn't share his jest. His reply was quiet and short.

"If this were a tv show…this wouldn't be so horrible." A silence fell between them and Akihiko found himself having to give a short cough in order to clear the awkward air.

"Well…yes, he wanted an open and shut case. If the witnesses, us, saw a man throw another off a cliff before killing himself then there is no way the facts could be more clear. There would be no need for an investigation. That is the only reason I could think of for the need of an extra body. If the police thought the killer was still at large, as they say, there would be a man hunt. Perhaps Matsura didn't want certain things uncovered."

"Yes. Perhaps."

Misaki's shoulder's had risen as their talk had gone on and he slowly seemed to shrink into himself. He had his arms crossed before him, but unlike the author who in the pose seemed to convey untold power and certainty, Misaki seemed more to be trying desperately to be holding himself together. Slowly, giving the younger plenty of time to move away, Akihiko reached out, and with a hand around the teens shoulder drew him against his side. They stayed like that for a moment, neither saying a word. The moment spread to seconds to minutes until finally Misaki's shoulder's seemed to relax.

And then they realized, together, that the breaths of their captive were no longer those of unconscious. He had been awake for a while. Silence reigned between the three men as each became aware of the other. It was Akihiko who finally asked the question.

"Why did you do it?"

The man growled.

"Because Takamoto was a greedy bastard." Misaki and Akihiko waited for Matsura to go on and it seemed to be the weight of their stares that he did.

"There's a natural hot spring on the grounds of my temple. He wanted it for himself. He's been trying to buy it from us for years. And we have refused. We need the temple. It is our home! And…and we help so many people!" The man was looking at them now and the hot fury of before was gone, leaving nothing but a hopeless plea.

"He's been looking around. Snooping. He even broke in once. We chased him out because we knew he wouldn't find anything. Except…except he did." Matsura's head was again hung. Akihiko felt Misaki tense again beneath his arm. They had both heard it, the tears in the man's voice.

"Six months ago there were new regulations passed to keep up the standards of public buildings. And we didn't meet them. We tried. We really tried. But we didn't have the funds. Everythign was going to our program. We're just beginning to see progress. And then that son of a bitch threatened to expose us."

"And so you got rid of him."

Matsura nodded as his shoulders began to shake. No more word's came from him though. Beside Akihiko Misaki made no move to comfort the priest and neither did Akihiko.

It was only then that the wail of sirens made themselves known in the distance. Akihiko pulled Misaki out of ear shot of their murderer. IT was Misaki though who spoke first.

"I should go."

"Yes." Again Misaki made no move to leave. "After the police leave I'll pick you up further down the road. It will probably be a few hours though."

"That's what it would take in a tv show."

"Yes."

And finally Misaki pulled away. He eyed the knife still in the author's hand and then the still slumped figure of Matsura. He didn't look satisfied.

"Go Misaki. I'll pack up your stuff with mine. There's not very much of it yet. No one will notice there's luggage for two people."

Misaki nodded once and for a second his eyes connected with Akihiko's, sending a message the author was unable to read. And then he turned and ran. The sound of sneaker's against earth faded fast before disappearing entirely. Akihiko sighed and turned back to their captive. His captive now. He wondered how he would explain the knife. It was obvious he had just come from the baths. Who carries a knife into the baths? He would come up with something he supposed.

Misaki was gone. That was what mattered.

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It was coming from the room, luggage packed and clothes where they should be that he realized just what kind of people made up sponsors of the temple's shelter.

"Just what are you doing here!"

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The fact of the matter was that Misaki was more than freaked when a expensive black car began to slow before pulling up directly in front of the log he had found to rest on on the side of the road. In fact he was all but prepared to run for his life back into the trees if the back window hadn't rolled down and Akihiko's face hadn't appeared.

"Misaki, get in." The expression on the teen's face said exactly what he thought of that request. "Please?" For that he got a look. "If you don't come with me you're going to be stuck on this mountain a full days walk from any civilization."

Misaki got in the car.

The interior was dark. Not to say that there wasn't lighting, but rather that everything was black, from the plush carpeting to the leather seats. The brunet couldn't help but feel self-conscious as he looked for the smallest bit of dirt and came up with nothing. His anxiety must have shown on his face for Akihiko gave him an awkward smile that really didn't hide his rising annoyance levels.

"Apologies. My father can be a bit…dramatic." Misaki stared at him.

"Y-y-y-your father?!"

(1) This is a reference to one of Ozu's movies.

Fucking finally done!

Why was this so hard?!

RAAAAAH! You'd better all enjoy this!

No more updates till next year, I'm going back to my Type O Negative. Because I'm a cliché.

Also, if anyone is curious, little bit of self promotion, I have a new tumblr.

Thetoadwife . tumblr . com

For all dark witchy delights.

Toodles.

Enjoy your various winter festivals people.