~ Because the night
The neon signs flashed in the night, with their violent light so colored, and so cold.
Yoh walked with his hands in the pockets of a dark coat.
He didn't have anything to do, and this, for him, was a new "condition", one that he had realized early on it was a condition that did not satisfy him at all.
There had been another time in his life when he had found himself to have no prospects, no aims and no hope, but at that time, at least, there was a blind despair to keep him company and reminding him, every single time it sank its claws into his heart to tear at it a bit more, that he was alive.
Painfully alive.
Desperately alive.
But Alive.
And there was the sense of guilt to prevent him from ending it all, because he did not deserve the peace that came with death.
But now… now what should he do? What the hell should he do?
Leave Hong Kong and go back to Tokyo as one of Asami's men?
He did not want that and he could not, even if he did.
Asami had made it clear that, although he had always served him impeccably, now he could no longer employ him, because now the Yakuza knew that Yoh belonged to someone else. To someone else who was not interested in him or in his services, to someone else that, logically, should kill him as he did with every other traitor. To someone else who, for pity or cruelty, rather decided that he had to remain alive.
Yoh shook his head, as if he was disagreeing.
A bitter smile appeared on the man's lips: neither pity, nor cruelty. It was just indifference.
Yoh took in his coat, because this was the coldest period of year, yet despite this and despite the late hour, there was still much movement on the Hong Kong streets.
The night flowed in the sexy shops on Temple Street, as it did in the dark alleys of Wan Chai, in the top of Hong Kong's highest mountain, The Peak, as in the thousands of colored lights of Nathan Road, in the skyscrapers above, just as it did in the nightclubs: the exclusive China Club, the intimate Captain Bar, in the virtual effects of the Lost City in Kowloon, and even in the brothels of Mongkok.
Yoh slide in the middle of that crowd without losing even a second to consider it; he saw how life was going on without him, that the world would continued to turn around while he was standing still, but he was simply not interested. There was a single person who occupied every corner of his mind and who was not leaving room for anything else.
A person who was all for him and for whom he was nothing.
Meanwhile, the sky was beginning to fade above the Temple of Tin Hau, the Goddess of the Sea, in Causeway Bay.
Once again, Yoh felt that he really should leave Hong Kong, but he could not and did not want to, as well. He could not, because he had no place to go. And he did not want, because he desired to share at least this piece of sky with FeiLong.
_
FeiLong leaned his hand on the wound on his chest, which was now nothing more than the symbol of useless memories that needed to be erased.
He lingered for a moment on it and then moved his fingers, until he was able to hear, through them, the regular beat of his own heart. Quiet and light, reminding him that he was still alive.
Anger.
That was the thing that he missed since the night he saw Akihito and Asami leave the ship together.
Watching Asami go away he felt pain, even physical pain, but not anger.
He had admitted that, even though he was misleading himself by calling his feelings hatred and revenge, they were in fact love and desire, but when he saw Asami leave, and so the last bond with him breaking, he felt loneliness and nostalgia, but not anger.
A nostalgia that became much deeper as the awareness, that it was not for the man who was embracing Akihito, was rising.
The nostalgia was for the man who, so long ago, had encouraged him to demand respect from his brother, and approval from his father, and for the man who injured his hand in shielding him.
Not the man whose icy lips had encountered his on the casino's ship, but the man whose warm and kind mouth kissed him seven years ago, who had dried his tears, and caressed his hair.
It was not the same man. If that man had ever existed, he could no longer be the same man that now was going away for good .
Nor was FeiLong the same.
Whatever he and Asami had become in recent years, they had become that way separately, and anything that they could have been, if things had been different, none of them would have ever discovered it.
A month had passed since then, and the nights seem longer and longer.
If it were not for the large number of issues and commitments, he had to settle, FeiLong would not be able to sleep. Most of the time, he collapsed on the bed, exhausted, at the first light of dawn.
But now that the waters were calmed, and the things in Baishe seemed quiet again, there was no more the tiredness to come and help him.
If he only could find a "dream", maybe then he could sleep.
But the dreams seemed finished, beautiful and ugly that they could be .
Meanwhile, the dawn came, and FeiLong, standing beside the large windows of his bedroom, naked under his unfastened black silk dressing gown, was almost stunned by the appearance of the sun on the horizon.
The morning surprised even the people in the town: the night birds with the shadows under their eyes, as the women that were carrying the vegetables to the markets, and so the elderly that crowded the parks making the Taijiquan. The golden light of the early day ran on the Chinese hovels and insinuates itself between the walls of the dirty, popular skyscrapers with the facades made of glass and steel in the business district, through the windows of the villas of the rich people that were opening like eyes disturbed by the light.
FeiLong leaned the palm of his right hand and then his forehead onto the cold glass of the window.
"And now …?" he whispered, lightly closing his eye eyes.
The light of the morning, in that cold winter's day, became just a quiet shimmering that transpired between his long curved eyelashes. The color of his coral mouth, that stained the alabaster of his face, became even more red while FeiLong bit his lower lip.
He would have preferred the anger, would have preferred the hatred, he would have preferred ... anything, but not the "void".
Was it really so unmentionable for the leader of Baishe, to have that immense desire for comfort, of an embrace, that could rip out for a moment that feeling from his heart?
Probably it was.
_
Wang walked quickly toward FeiLong's rooms, with a slightly worried expression.
He believed, or rather, had hoped that there could be some peace for their organization, at least for a while, and lately things seemed to go exactly in that direction.
Now, however, in the early morning, several Baishe men, who patrol their territory during the night time, had brought this new problem.
At first glance it did not seem as though it was anything to worry about, but considering the person involved, the Baishe's man feared that the situation would evolve soon in an unpleasant way.
Reaching FeiLong's door, he knocked gently and, after receiving permission, he entered the room. The cold December Sun filled the room with his light.
"Laoban ...," the man said.
"Problems? "FeiLong's voice, more than irritated by the possibility of bad news, seemed almost relieved.
Wang nodded in response. The man had worked for Baishe for many years and knew FeiLong -sama since he was a child. Even though the long-haired man had always maintained a certain distance from his men, this had not prevented Wang from making a fairly precise deduction about his master's way of thinking.
FeiLong was moody, strong, cruel and clever, but he was also a person who thought too much. The worst thing was that FeiLong had a heart, and that, in his position, was only a disadvantage.
Clearly, the idea that there could be new issues to be settled, and so something that could offer a diversion to his thoughts, lured him, rather than was bothersome.
"Our men have noticed suspicious movements of not yet identified persons in our territory, Laoban. The only thing we know for sure is that they are not foreigners, but Chinese citizens, master."
"How long they been in my town?" FeiLong asked, with a flat tone, rising from his desk, and taking with him the steaming cup of tea he had in his hands, and went to lean on the window jamb, giving his back to Wang.
The long black locks, tied carelessly in a low ponytail, were twisting to each other, while reflections of the sun, on that winter morning, lit them with golden nuances, making it seem as though they were almost moving, like magical dark flames.
"Uhm ... a couple of days, sir, but you had ordered not to be disturbed if not ..."
"I have not asked for your justifications, Wang, have I?" FeiLong said, dryly. "Any idea about what their aim is? Apart from dying young, of course ...," he added later.
"It seems that, in these past two days, they have been restricting themselves to seeking information about a certain person, and now they are keeping an eye on him, from a distance, apparently with bad intentions, and..."
"And may I know who this person is?" The leader of Baishe interrupted him with a bothered tone, pointing on the man's face two stunning eyes that darted with irritation.
The man, avoiding the eyes of his master, whispered a name, which FeiLong would have preferred not to hear.
"It is Yoh," he said.
***to be continued
