Barnaby sat alone, a meat pie untouched in front of him. He hadn't eaten. He kept replaying the sick incident in his mind. All that blood. He couldn't sleep. His nights were haunted by the image of Tiger in his final moment. The rest of the men were loud and rowdy, busy preparing for travel. Barnaby's voice was still raw from screaming. They planned to move across country, to leave Sternbild and their death sentences far behind. They would go into hiding and live out the rest of their days in relative peace. Barnaby couldn't accept that.
"Hey, Barnaby," Rock Bison called out to him. He walked over, sitting down beside Barnaby with a sigh. "There's no reason for you to stay. There's nothing here for you anymore." They sat in silence for a long time before Rock Bison spoke again. "He's dead, Barnaby."
Barnaby stared at Rock Bison coolly, his green eyes narrowed and calculating. "If I wanted the sheriff's shit propaganda that the newspaper spews, I would just fucking read it."
"Barnaby, you saw him. Origami saw him. He's dead…" Rock Bison sighed heavily, holding his head in his hands. "He was my best friend… don't you think if there was any possibility I would be right beside you?"
Barnaby was silent for a moment before abruptly standing. He rasped his hand against the table, looking in the opposite direction. "I'm bringing him home. He deserves to be here." Barnaby's voice caught in his throat and he nearly collapsed to the ground. His head swam and his stomach twisted. "He needs to be here. He needs to be buried next to her…" Barnaby couldn't speak. He gasped for air, his lungs threatening to explode. "They can't have him. His body… his body is mine… I get to decide…"
Rock Bison looked up at Barnaby in surprise. He was at a loss. Unable to think of anything to say he had to watch Barnaby go. Rock Bison cursed, shoving against the table in anger. The table flipped, rolling a few yards where it smashed into a dozen pieces. He cursed, mentally kicking himself for breaking the Kaburagi's table.
"Barnaby, wait…" Barnaby turned, eyeing the young girl with interest. He didn't know her well, but he had quickly learned that Kaede's eyes were as sharp as her tongue. She was a clever girl with a personality at complete odds with her father's. She locked eyes with Barnaby and immediately began to speak, "I heard what you said…"
A million thoughts rushed over Barnaby. Had he said something incriminating back there? Had he given too much away? He swallowed a lump in his throat nervously. Did he accidentally tarnish a dead man's reputation?
"Are you really going? To bring him, his body, back?"
Barnaby nodded emphatically. "I am."
"Thank you." Kaede whispered, looking down at the ground. "It's all I can think about. His body being displayed… or…"
"Don't." Barnaby interrupted, placing his hands on her narrow shoulders. "Just stop. Picture him as the last time you saw him."
"He promised he'd come back." Kaede burst into tears. "He promised and he lied!"
"Sometimes adults break their promises." Barnaby explained, a strange feeling of detachment separating him from the conversation. "It doesn't mean he didn't want to come home."
"What about you?" Kaede questioned. "Will you come back?"
"I won't promise you, Kaede." Barnaby said. "I can't promise I won't die, but I can swear, I will not return without your father."
"You have magic too." Kaede suddenly said. "The same magic he did."
"I don't know if what I have is magic or not," Barnaby admitted with a laugh. "But your dad, he definitely had magic."
"Good luck, Barnaby." Kaede bounced on her tiptoes, placing a kiss on Barnaby's cheek. "I'll pray for your safe return."
Barnaby nodded, unable to speak. He pat the girl on the head and smiled sadly before turning away. He walked across the field toward the stables. When he entered he found that Padraig had already had his tack put on, and Samson was behind, attached to Padraig by a halter and lead.
Barnaby looked at Muramasa Kaburagi, both men measuring the other's worth with a glance. Muramasa nodded, handing Padraig's reins to Barnaby. "My mother, she needs the closure…" Muramasa paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. "Please, bring him home. Let us put him to rest…"
"Only death can stop me." Barnaby said simply. He climbed into the saddle, taking Samson's lead rope. Muramasa pushed open the door to the stall and Barnaby rode out.
"Don't be in such a hurry to die." Muramasa replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're young; you'll find something to live for."
"The Death of Wild Tiger! The Death of a Hero!" the sheriff read the newspaper aloud, his voice upbeat and delighted. "I had no idea Wild Tiger was such an icon of the people! Barnaby Brooks, Jr… that asshole, I thought that if I squashed him, I'd squash them all…"
"The thieves of the forest, they're no more, Jake." One of his officers replied excitedly. "They're on the run! The cowards are running scared!"
"See. Symbols!" The sheriff explained, biting into a roasted chicken thigh. The juices dripped down his chin and he slurped impolitely. "Wild Tiger was a symbol of the people. A hero amongst the common folk." He shoved a handful of chicken into his mouth, chewing with effort. "I'll admit, I didn't know where to hit Barnaby at first."
The sheriff sat back in his chair, gesturing to the body on display in front of him. "But now I know! I would never have thought…" The sheriff took a swig of mead and brushed his hands off on his pants. The sheriff fidgeted in his chair impatiently, his eyes roaming over the bruised, bloody flesh before him. "Wake him up… I'm tired of waiting…"
"Of course, Sheriff."
"Wait…" The sheriff called out. "Never mind, I want to do it." The sheriff pushed back from the table, upsetting the plate and glass. He gestured to his men. "Take the table, leave my chair. And leave me. I want to be alone for a few minutes."
Tiger woke in absolute darkness. Terror dripped down his throat, settling in a pool at the bottom of his stomach. He blinked his swollen eyes, desperately trying to make something out. The first thing he felt was unbearable pain. It hit him all at once and he let out a strangled cry. He began to struggle, panicking as he realized his hands were shackled above his head.
"Wild Tiger," the sheriff's coarse, nasally voice reached his ears. Tiger froze, turning his head from side to side blindly. "You can't see, can you, Tiger?" Tiger was silent, the chill of fear and the cold, damp air causing his exposed skin to prickle. "Are you scared?"
"No." Tiger lied, the movement of his jaw nearly paralyzing him.
"Are you hurt?" the sheriff asked, his voice growing closer. "A regular man would be dead." Tiger fought against the shackles, pushing himself up on his tiptoes and trying to slide his wrist through. The sheriff laughed. "You've been asleep for three days."
Three days? Tiger felt the urge to be sick. How could he still be in so much pain after three days? Where was he? Where was Barnaby? "No one is coming for you," the sheriff said, as if reading Tiger's mind. "You are going to die a martyr."
"Just kill me." Tiger spoke before the thought had even completely formed in his head.
"I will." The sheriff promised, his voice low. "But first…" Tiger gasped as the sheriff's grabbed a fistful of his hair. He dragged his head backward, his teeth biting into the exposed flesh of his throat. "I plan on fucking you up so badly no one can identify the rest of you."
Tiger let out a pained scream, kicking at the sheriff with all of his strength. The sheriff released Tiger, smacking him across the cheek. "Bad dog, don't attack your Master." The sheriff walked around Tiger, his boots shuffling across the floor. "Or, I suppose, you're a bad kitty…"
Tiger inhaled deeply. He was not alone and defenseless, he had the strength of one hundred men. He focused on releasing his power, only to realize that it wasn't working. His brain whirred with reasons and scenarios. He felt like he couldn't breathe. His hope was beginning to falter.
"I'm sure you're wondering why you can't use your powers." The sheriff's voice cut into Tiger's thoughts like a saw. "Interesting gift you have there… to be able to heal yourself from the brink of death. It's just a theory," The sheriff reasoned, a smile evident in his voice. "But I don't think you have enough power to heal yourself and fight me at the same time…"
"It's kinda inconvenient." The sheriff taunted. There was a loud scraping noise, like metal on stone, and then the sound of approaching footsteps. "Gentlemen, let's see how far we can go. Let's see how thin his power can spread…"
"W-w-w-w-w-wait!" Tiger cried out, his jaw popping as he spoke. "Stop! What are you doing? Stop!"
Barnaby stood in front of a long line of wanted posters. Hundreds of visages of his own face stared down at him, but all Barnaby could see was Tiger. Tiger's posters had been painted over with a large red X. There was an entire row of ugly, red X's. It felt like they went on and on with no end.
Barnaby led the two horses into the city's open and unattended gate. He looked around apprehensively, pausing a moment to relish the decimated northern wall. If only he could cause more damage. If only he could inflict half of his pain onto the city of Sternbild.
He tethered the horses outside of the church. He walked up the uneven stone steps, stepping into the church quietly, bowing at the first pew. He advanced through the church, dipping his hand into the chalice of holy water and crossing himself in prayer.
"Hello, my child," the priest said kindly. He hadn't recognized Barnaby yet. He gestured with open arms, welcoming Barnaby inside. "What brings you here?"
Barnaby removed his hood. The priest took a startled step backward, looking from the door to Barnaby fretfully. "Brooks… what're you… why're you?!"
"Father Francis," Barnaby kneeled. "I ask for absolution."
"Absolution?" the priest asked in disbelief.
"Yes, Father." Barnaby looked up at the priest, speaking honestly. "I am about to die."
"Leave this place." The priest insisted. "You are a good man and your parents were good people! It's nonsense for you to have returned here! The sheriff…"
"Please, Father, it's been four years and six months since my last confession." Barnaby pleaded. "I have killed many men, on and off the battlefield. But I did so for the glory of God. I have committed adultery. But I did that for myself… I have coveted…" Barnaby broke down, sinking to the floor. "I have stolen… I have lied… I have…"
"Dear, boy." The priest whispered. He placed his hand on the top of Barnaby's head and sighed. "God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of your son, you have reconciled the world to yourself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. Through the ministry of the church, may God grant you pardon and peace. And I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."
"Amen," Barnaby exhaled, closing his eyes. He sat there for a moment longer and then climbed to his feet. "Thank you, Father."
"Peace be with you, Barnaby." The priest said.
"And also with you," Barnaby returned.
Barnaby walked from the church, the door swinging shut behind him. He jogged down the stone steps and began to run down the street. He had no idea where to look for Tiger's body. And he had no intention of letting his murderer go unpunished. Before he could go any further with his quest, he had to find the Sheriff of Sternbild.
"Kitty, Kitty," the sheriff placed his hands on Tiger's face. He brushed his thumbs over Tiger's lips, pushing the digits inside roughly. Blood and spit dripped down his fingers to his wrists. "You awake, kitty, kitty?"
Tiger's swollen eyes fluttered open. He smiled in relief, his eyes beginning to focus. I'm not blind, Tiger nearly cried. I'm not blind. He blinked slowly, the sheriff's leering face doubled in his vision. Tiger shook his head from side to side and the sheriff removed his hands. Tiger wanted to speak, God, how he wished he could reply smartly, but he couldn't. Tiger had no strength remaining. His fight was gone.
"Get him down," the sheriff instructed. "Take him to the chamber." The men looked at one another doubtfully, as if they had misheard him. The sheriff clenched his fist and with his other hand, tapped his finger to his forehead pointedly. "Do as I ask or die."
Tiger groaned as the metal chain holding him upright was slackened. He fell to the hard ground. His shoulders screamed from the abuse. Tiger cried out, unable to move his own body, the agony was unbearable.
He was rolled onto his stomach roughly, his face pressing into the stone floor. One of the men unlocked the shackles on his hands. His arms slid down to his side, but they hung unnaturally, grotesquely popped out of the sockets. The sheriff watched Tiger with interest. He smiled as Tiger groaned, the pain from being lifted nearly making him pass out.
"Pop his shoulders back in place." The sheriff instructed. "And then leave him in the chamber."
The chamber. If Tiger had had the strength to fret he would have. His imagination produced all kinds of horrors that he would be subjected to in the chamber. He closed his eyes tightly, unable to defend himself in any way, he accepted it. I'm going to die, Tiger realized. And it's going to be painful.
The men tossed Tiger down on his stomach. One man grabbed one arm and another grabbed the other. POP! POP! Tiger screamed, biting down on the cloth beneath him. He was rolled over onto his back and he jumped as a wet rag touched his skin.
He opened his eyes, realizing he was in a bed chamber. He watched a young maid's hands shake. She did her best not to look at him as she began to wipe the blood from his skin. A second maid placed a warm cloth over his face. He inhaled deeply and let himself sink further into the bed.
"Kitty, Kitty," the sheriff whispered. "Wakey, Wakey…" Tiger's eyes opened and he was instantly very awake. He lifted his hands, the pain was intense, but he'd live. He pushed against the bed, moving himself further from the sheriff. The sheriff merely smiled, taking a puff from his pipe. The sheriff leaned forward, blowing the smoke in Tiger's face.
"How do you feel, Wild Tiger?" Like death, Tiger thought. The sheriff clicked his tongue in disappointment. "I had hoped you'd be feeling better. That's why I moved you in here."
"You really are sick." Tiger said, his voice raw and strained. "Just finish it."
"I am, be patient." The sheriff rebuked. He slapped Tiger's hand, like you would an overeager child near a hot stove. Tiger narrowed his eyes, a hidden reserve of fight bubbling up in his stomach. The sheriff looked up and shook his head. "When will you learn, Tiger… You can't beat me."
It's like he can…, Tiger thought, a shudder coursing through his body as the sheriff smiled. Barnaby, Tiger changed his direction of thought. The first thing he could think of was Barnaby. Barnaby's green eyes, Barnaby's pale hair, Barnaby's spectacles, Barnaby's pride, Barnaby's voice, Barnaby's lips, Barnaby's hands, Barnaby's… Tiger cleared his throat, shaking his head to clear it. Think of anything besides that, Tiger admonished himself.
The sheriff took another puff of his pipe, watching Tiger intently for a few minutes. He leaned forward suddenly, placing his pipe on the bedside table. And then he was there, leaning against the headboard, his body squeezed between Tiger and the edge of the bed. He propped his hand behind his head, looking down at Tiger thoughtfully.
The sheriff leaned in, his teeth grazing Tiger's ear. He pulled the flesh into his mouth, nipping and licking. Tiger's amber eyes widened in horror, he pushed his hands weakly against the other man. Tiger fell onto his side, the sheriff closing the distance between them in an instant.
"Fuck no." Tiger growled, his hands clenching into fists. He swung wildly, striking the sheriff on the face. The sheriff narrowed his eyes, pulling his hand back to strike Tiger. But Tiger wasn't a helpless child. He took the slap to the cheek and returned with a second punch to the sheriff's jaw.
The sheriff grew infuriated. He grabbed a pillow and pulled it taut in both hands. He rolled over, on top of Tiger, pulling the pillow over Tiger's face. Tiger's fingers dug into the sheriff's wrists and hands. He drew blood, his fingers tearing at anything he could reach. "You fucking bitch…" The sheriff punched the pillow until Tiger's hands fell away. And then he removed the pillow, tossing it to the floor. He grabbed Tiger's face roughly turning it in his direction. Tiger's eyes were open but unseeing, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.
The sheriff knocked Tiger's legs apart, pushing himself between Tiger's knees. He fumbled with his belt, hurriedly undoing his trousers. He placed his hands on Tiger's hips, grabbing at the smooth, muscular flesh greedily. He lifted Tiger's ass, smacking his palm against his flesh. He smacked again, and again, waiting until Tiger turned to look at him. He smiled down, letting a thick ball of spit land on Tiger's face.
The sheriff was positioning himself when there was a knock on the door. The urgent knocking continued. The sheriff growled in frustration, putting himself back in his pants. "It had better be good, fucking idiot!"
"Jake," the man on the other side of the door spoke very reluctantly, his nerves very evident in his shaking voice. "Barnaby Brooks Jr. is in the square… he and a small group of men have taken hostages…"
The sheriff's eyes met Tiger's. They stared at one another for a moment and then Tiger smiled. The sheriff placed his hand on Tiger's face, pushing himself back off of the bed. "Stay put. I'll bring his head, so you can enjoy him one last time before you go."
Barnaby paced back and forth, his quivering hands holding his bow. He climbed onto the ledge of the fountain, lifting a hand to his mouth, "I am here for the body of Wild Tiger!" Barnaby gestured to the hostages being held below. They stood in a huddled mass, cowering from the hooded men corralling them. "You have ten minutes and then I kill the first hostage…"
The commotion had garnered an audience. They whispered and gasped at Barnaby's threat. Some were brought to tears, frightful for their friends and neighbors who had been taken hostage. Barnaby strung his arrow, shooting one of the wanted posters plastered along the wall. "Give us the body of Wild Tiger."
One of the men standing with the hostages stepped forward, dragging a young maiden by the arm. He held her up in presentation, pulling the blade from his belt. He placed the knife against her throat, holding the struggling woman in place. He turned in a circle slowly, his eyes searching the crowd.
"Good afternoon, Master Brooks!" the sheriff called out, taking the steps two at a time. He smiled, his blue eyes sparking angrily. He took the crossbow offered to him and strung it, releasing an arrow almost instantly. One of Barnaby's men leapt forward to swing his sword, blocking Barnaby from the arrow. Barnaby looked from the man to the sheriff. "You'll have to do better than that. Tiger did."
Barnaby drew his sword, holding it in both hands. "Give us the body."
"What body?" the sheriff asked, walking straight toward Barnaby. He gestured toward two of the hostage takers, speaking to his men, "Take them down first."
"Wild Tiger's body!" Barnaby yelled, his hands shaking on the handle of the sword. The sheriff stopped only feet from Barnaby. He stood motionless and silent and then his face splayed into a devious smirk. "We'll start killing… we'll kill these people! That woman will die!"
"Am I supposed to care?" the sheriff asked. He unsheathed his sword and lunged, piercing through Barnaby's stomach. He pulled out quickly, jabbing twice more before sheathing his sword.
Barnaby's green eyes opened wide, the color rippling into a soft violet. He dropped his sword and grabbed at his stomach, his mouth open and slack. He coughed, blood spewing from his mouth. He fell to his knees, the edges of his body blurring, as if his whole body was vibrating. "Such a shame, your power was kinda cool." Origami Cyclone gasped, looking up to the sky. The sheriff watched the young man struggle to breathe. He sighed heavily and scratched his cheek. "I'll let you in on a little secret," the sheriff whispered. "There is no body because Tiger's not dead." And then the sheriff turned, walking back toward his home.
"Sheriff!" one of his men yelled in a panic. He held up his shield, blocking himself from a barrage of flames. "Sheriff! These two are still alive."
"Well, whose fault is that? Did you not understand my instructions?" The sheriff scoffed.
Tiger rolled off of the bed, crashing to the floor with a thud. He pushed himself up on his elbows, his shoulders aching terribly. He struggled to bring his knees underneath him. He moved slowly, his entire body shaking from the pain. He stopped to rest, pulling himself in a sitting position. He counted to ten and closed his eyes, rolling back onto his hands and knees.
He crawled to the dresser beside the window. He opened it, searching through the drawers for some clothes. He pulled a pair of underwear from the bottom of a stack, the other clothes toppling in the drawer messily. He pulled on the undergarment, his dirty, bloodied hands leaving prints. It took a while, his body hurt so much. He paused, counted to ten and then decided to try to stand.
Tiger used the dresser to pull himself from the ground. The dresser wasn't heavy enough and he crashed backward, the dresser falling on top of him. He groaned, a stream of expletives escaping his lips. He pushed the dresser, slapping his hands against it in frustration. The dresser was flung across the room and Tiger laughed in delight.
He looked down at his hand; a large shard of wood had broken off. He curled his hand around the makeshift weapon and rolled back onto his knees. He crawled to the bed, climbing up onto the mattress. He sat for a minute, breathing heavily.
There was a sound outside the door, and Tiger had only a moment to make a decision. The door knob twisted and the door was thrown open. Tiger brought the shard of wood up to his throat. The tip pressed into his bruised flesh, blood soaking into the porous fibers.
Tiger looked up and began to cry, the tears falling freely. His hand stayed at his throat, the wooden stake dangerously close to stealing his life. "Bunny?"
Barnaby's handsome face twisted, every range of emotion displayed on his face. He rushed forward, throwing himself at Tiger's feet. Barnaby looked up, tears streaming down his cheeks. He shook his head and gasped for air, "Tiger?"
"You came for me…" Tiger sobbed, his hand shaking at his throat.
"Of course, I came for you," Barnaby breathed, gently taking Tiger's shaking hand in his. He pulled the wooden shard from Tiger's rigid fist and let it fall to the floor. "I would die for you."
"You came for me…" Tiger repeated, his head dropping forward to rest on Barnaby's shoulder. Barnaby pulled Tiger into his arms, cradling the older man. He climbed from the floor, careful not to jar Tiger too much.
"I'm taking you home." Barnaby promised, grabbing a sheet from the bed and wrapping it around Tiger protectively.
"Bunny…" Tiger could only cry. He had so much he wanted to say, but he struggled to even breathe.
Barnaby looked down at Tiger's battered face. There was so much anger and hatred boiling under the surface, but one small feeling took seed more than any other. Barnaby tilted his head, kissing Tiger softly on the lips. He kissed Tiger's wet, swollen eyelids. He kissed Tiger's cheeks. "I love you." Tiger's entire body heaved, the tears shaking his body forcefully. Tiger opened his mouth to speak, but no words could come out. Barnaby nodded his head, pulling Tiger more closely to his body. "I know, Kotetsu…"
Barnaby carried Tiger from the bedchamber. He pressed against the wall, peering around corners as he went. Barnaby began to panic. It was at least two miles to where he left the horses. Everyone would be looking for them. And most importantly, if anything happened to him, Tiger would be alone and helpless. I promised him, Barnaby reminded himself. I told him I would take him home.
The sheriff paused outside of the bedchamber and exhaled loudly, closing his eyes. The door was slightly ajar and he kicked it open. He looked around the empty room and chuckled, shaking his head. He slammed his fist against the wall, kicking out sharply with his boot. He leaned against the wall for a moment, deep in thought. And then he turned to the officer beside him and shrugged, "Where'd he go?"
"I don't know, Sheriff."
"Well…" the sheriff groaned into his palm. "Bring him back. Alive."
"Yes, Sir. He couldn't have gone far."
"Oh, he didn't go anywhere on his own," the sheriff hissed. "Brooks was here."
"There's nowhere for them to go, Jake." The man replied. "We'll capture them soon."
"Don't capture Brooks, kill him." The sheriff barked. "I only want Wild Tiger alive." He paused, turning to face the man, "I want to kill him myself."
Barnaby rounded the house, creeping into the garden and carefully shutting the gate. The metal creaked and he held his breath anxiously. He looked around, the hairs on the back of his neck raising. There was movement behind him and cold steel pressed between his shoulder blades.
"Oh, if it isn't Robin Hood."
Barnaby turned slowly, his green eyes meeting the Judge Yuri Petrov's. The Judge smiled gloomily, his sword pressing against Barnaby's heart. His olive eyes roamed downward, focusing intently on Tiger resting in Barnaby's arms. The Judge looked back up at Barnaby, tucking a pale strand of grey hair behind his ears, "You're fugitives."
"Yes." Barnaby admitted, his voice firm and even. He stood straight and tall and brave, as if Tiger weighed nothing and, as if, the Judge wasn't poised to kill him instantly.
"You're a petty thief." The Judge arched a thin brow, using the tip of the sword to expose Tiger's face. When he looked at Tiger his eyes softened, but he looked back to Barnaby with cold, calculating eyes.
"No," Barnaby jumped slightly as a whistle sounded. The sheriff's men were beginning to scour the streets. Any moment now they would be discovered. Barnaby cleared his throat, shaking his head. "We aren't keeping it for ourselves."
"You rob from the rich to feed the poor." The Judge's lips pulled in a tight smile.
"Yes." Barnaby tightened his hold on Tiger, his eyes staring stubbornly into the Judge's. He wanted to turn and look, he needed to know how close they were… but he knew he couldn't afford to look away from the Judge.
"They'll be here soon." The Judge mused.
"Please…" Barnaby pleaded unexpectedly. "Please, he doesn't deserve to die."
"And what about you?" The Judge asked.
"I don't know what I deserve, but I want to live." Barnaby answered. "I don't want to die yet."
The Judge lowered his sword, sheathing it without a word. He turned, his curly grey hair swishing behind him. He walked through the garden, his thin, pale hand trailing along the roses. He opened the door, holding it open with his foot. He looked at Barnaby, tilting his head to the side in gesture. "Welcome to my home, Robin Hood."
Barnaby jogged to the door, turning sideways to slide inside. He stood in the kitchen, waiting unsurely as the Judge shut the door and turned the lock. He studied Barnaby for a moment before gesturing to the next room. "Please, make yourself comfortable. There is a chaise for him. I'll put the kettle on."
Barnaby walked into the salon. It was a magnificent room, full of tapestries and priceless artwork. Barnaby kneeled beside the chaise lounge, placing Tiger down gently. He brushed his hand over Tiger's sweaty forehead and sighed. Sleep it off, Barnaby thought. You'll be stronger when you wake.
He could hear the Judge moving around in the kitchen, which he considered strange, a house of this nobility and stature should have had a multitude of servants. It appeared the Judge lived alone in the enormous estate. Barnaby sat down in a fancy, red chair, trying his best to appear calm and collected. "I'm afraid I am out of milk." The Judge said, interrupting his thoughts. "I didn't know I would be having guests and I'm not much of a milk drinker myself."
Barnaby took the cup and saucer offered to him and smiled politely. "Oh, that's fine."
The Judge sat down in the chair opposite of Barnaby, his legs crossed and his teacup held in his lap. He watched Tiger's body move up and down for a long moment before turning to Barnaby. "You won't live to see tomorrow, if you don't have a plan."
"I didn't plan to survive." Barnaby admitted. "I thought he was dead."
"Your life only holds value when attached to his?" The Judge asked pointedly.
"I had lost everyone and everything," Barnaby snapped. "I had nothing left on Earth."
"Being lonely removes your purpose?" The Judge laughed softly, bitterly. He looked up, cutting his eyes. The house suddenly oozed with emptiness and despair. It seemed to close in on the Judge, the air blackening and cooling. It was almost as if a copious fog had settled over the man. "You must have more meaning to your life than that… Some cause you wish to see to the end…"
"I do." Barnaby said simply. "I want to see things right again in Sternbild. I just, I… I forgot for a moment."
The Judge nodded knowingly, a smile creeping onto his face. He took a sip of steaming tea and then placed his cup beside him on the table. He folded his hands in his lap and focused his attention on Barnaby. "Your friends are here. It's just a small group. You should find them before it's too late."
"Friends?" Barnaby asked, furrowing his brows.
"They created quite a stirring distraction in the town square not so long ago."
"But I-"
"Leave him here." The Judge instructed, following Barnaby's train of thought. "He will be safe." The Judge drummed his fingers against the wooden arm of his chair. "Get your horses, find your men… Kill the sheriff…" Barnaby looked up at the Judge in surprise. The Judge simply stared back, his genuineness shining through his cold exterior.
"You're the judge…" Barnaby said in surprise. "Don't you…"
"Don't be ridiculous." The Judge said dismissively. "I am a judge because I believe in justice. I am no friend of the sheriff's…"
"Complacency can be considered guilt." Barnaby reasoned skeptically.
"That is rich, Barnaby Brooks, Jr." The Judge leaned forward in his chair, his olive eyes flashing blue for a brief moment. "Who do you think had protected your location all this time? Who do you think has been allowing you to move so freely?" The Judge sat back and sighed. "Hurry. Go and end this."
"I might die." Barnaby said.
"You might, yes,"
"If I die… you'll help him right?" Barnaby clenched his hands into fists as he spoke. "You'll protect him until he regains his strength?"
"No," The Judge answered unexpectedly. "I won't." The Judge stood up and walked toward the kitchen. Barnaby followed, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He opened his mouth to protest but the Judge silenced him with a piercing look. "You'll just have to come back alive, won't you?"
"Thank you for stopping by." The judge's thin arm wrapped around Barnaby's and he turned, pushing Barnaby back outside into the garden. He smiled sadly, his sunken eyes looking down. "I quite enjoyed the company." And without further ado, he slammed the door in Barnaby's face.
Barnaby's stomach twisted painfully. He inhaled shallowly, his eyes searching the smoke-filled square. There were people lining the walls, their shirts over their noses and mouths. They watched incredulously as the men in front of them fought, with such inhuman strength and ability, it made the whispers of witchcraft hold even more weight.
Rock Bison threw two men into the air, charging through a huddled mass of armed officers. He was running out of steam quickly. He was sweaty, blood dropping down his temples. He licked his dry, chapped lips, inhaling painfully.
The air was toxic. Smoke billowed profusely, blinding and stinging the eyes. Fire Emblem was crouched behind the scaffold, holding their knees. They rested their head on their legs, regret and anxiety evident in their eyes. The whole town square would be in flames soon. A group of the sheriff's men slowly approached Fire Emblem's hiding place, each man holding a bucket of water.
"Fire Emblem! Rock Bison!" Barnaby called out. He ran forward quickly, eliciting a excited murmur from the crowd. "He's alive." Fire Emblem and Rock Bison turned, their faces full of unbridled relief. Barnaby didn't know if they had even heard him or if just seeing him was enough.
Barnaby didn't bother unsheathing his sword. He had reached a level of furious passion that he had never come close to before. He felt the need to attack with his hands. Every bone that he felt crack beneath his hands was like a blossoming flower. The sensation started small and continued to grow and spread and bloom.
"Oh, Handsome!" Fire Emblem cried out, jumping out from behind the scaffold. "You're alive…"
"Yeah…" Barnaby said as his fist connected forcefully with an officer's nose. "And so is Tiger."
"Oh my god." Fire Emblem gasped, covering their mouth in shock. "Where is he?"
"Somewhere safe for now," Barnaby answered.
"We've got to go!" Fire Emblem yelled, covering their ears with their hands. There was a loud explosion to their right as a barrel of gun powder exploded.
"I can't." Barnaby replied. "I have to stop the sheriff."
"You are crazy." Fire Emblem muttered, shaking their head.
"Maybe." Barnaby agreed, smirking slightly. "But that's still not very nice, Fire Emblem…"
"We will help you." Rock Bison called over his shoulder. "That's why we're here!"
"How many of us are there?" Barnaby grunted, his energy focused on the two officers he was fighting.
"It's just us," Rock Bison answered sadly, his eyes darting toward the fountain before he looked away guiltily.
Barnaby's eyes roamed through the square, settling on the bodies piled near the fountain. He recognized everyone; they were the men he had worked alongside for months. Barnaby sighed heavily, a painful lump in his throat. He swallowed and then, suddenly, his eyes widened in horror.
All he could see was the pale blond hair and pale skin, but he knew it was Origami Cyclone. Barnaby cursed loudly, kicking the man in front of him so violently that the man's leg broke with a sickly SNAP! "Origami…?" Barnaby couldn't think of a way to finish.
"Yeah," Fire Emblem answered reluctantly. "The sheriff."
"Fire Emblem," Barnaby yelled angrily, the veins in his neck throbbing. "Burn everything."
"But…"
"Fire Emblem!" Barnaby shouted. "Just do it!"
Tiger stretched on the chaise, clicking his tongue in discomfort as his muscles ached and groaned. He rubbed his eyes, yawning. There was a sweet scent in the air, like vanilla and almonds. He inhaled deeply and smiled. Tiger's amber eyes blinked open and he sat up, looking around the fancy parlor in confusion. "Bun-ny?"
"He isn't here." the Judge answered, taking a sip from his teacup and placing it back on the saucer. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "He left…" the Judge looked toward the mechanical clock against the wall. "A little over two hours ago…"
"What?!" Tiger exclaimed in disbelief, the stained bedsheet pooling around his waist. "He left me?" Tiger ran his hands through his shaggy hair, pulling down on his cheeks in exasperation. "He wouldn't. What did you do to him? Where am I? What's going on?"
The Judge merely smiled, gesturing a frail hand toward a tray of powdery white cookies. He cleared his throat, folding his arms in his lap. "Please have some lepeshki."
Tiger eyed the little, round cookie, his tongue darting around his mouth as he considered. He shrugged and reached forward grabbing the cookie from the floral serving tray. He took a bite, slivers of almonds and crumbs falling into his goatee. "These are pretty good."
"Thank you." The Judge replied, his olive eyes watching Tiger with interest. "Please eat as many as you'd like."
"Where's Barnaby?" Tiger asked around a mouthful of lepeshki.
"He left."
"Bullshit." Tiger grunted, taking another cookie from the tray. When was the last time he'd eaten? He couldn't remember. "Bunny wouldn't just leave me with you…" Tiger gestured with his hands as he spoke. "I mean, come on! He is here to rescue me… where'd he go?" Tiger's face fell, his hand slipping from the cookie tray. "He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye…would he?"
"Mr. Brooks has every intention of returning," the Judge insisted. "Please, Wild Tiger, eat. Have some water or tea. Regain your strength."
"Where am I?" Tiger asked as he smacked his lips, the strong flour after taste making him thirsty.
"My home." The Judge explained. "He brought you here …" the Judge's face twisted into a peculiar smile "For safekeeping…"
Tiger took a swig of water, drinking straight from the carafe beside him. The water sloshed over the glass lip, pouring down his chin and bare chest. He replaced the carafe and looked at the Judge with sudden realization, "He went to fight the sheriff."
"Yes." The Judge replied with an indulgent nod.
"I have to stop him!' Tiger sat up abruptly, his head swimming. His hips, legs, stomach and back burned. He doubled over, his hands on his knees. He inhaled and exhaled, counting to ten before straightening up. "The sheriff's ability…"
"You're really in no condition to fight." The Judge reasoned. "Please take a seat and…"
"There's no way!" Tiger roared, banging his fist against his palm. "I won't abandon him! He needs me!" Tiger grabbed the sheet from the chaise and wrapped it around his stiff, sore shoulders. "I have to go…"
"I know," the Judge shook his head, as if speaking to an excited child. "I was just going to say, eat a few more cookies before you go. I think you'll find them very agreeable." The Judge's hand wrapped daintily around the handle of his teacup, the cup quivering as it was brought to his thin lips. "They are great for regaining strength."
"Sir, we have to assemble the fire brigade."
The sheriff shook his head, holding out his arms as his attendant outfitted him in armor. "I want every available man searching for Tiger." The sheriff exhaled in frustration. "They must look in every house… every fucking barn…"
"Sternbild is burning…" the man argued. "The square is completely razed… the homes, they will…"
"Do as I say. I am going to go kill Barnaby Brooks, Jr." the sheriff growled, snapping his head toward the nervous row of men. "I am not crazy! Stop thinking that I'm crazy! If we find one, we have leverage over the other… and then we squash them! We crush them so completely they die before they hit the ground."
"Jake, Barnaby is here."
The sheriff paused, his stomach fluttering with excitement. He nodded enthusiastically. "Great."
The men exchanged looks and then bowed their heads in apology. However, the sheriff was too busy in his own thoughts to acknowledge anyone else in the room. Instead he grabbed his sword, holding it in both hands tightly. He flicked the sword, swishing it through the air, gazing at himself in the mirror all the while.
Barnaby stood across from the blazing square. He tucked away his spectacles and licked his dry lips. His throat tickled with thirst, but he ignored it, clenching his fists and standing defiantly. His green eyes were fixed to the main street of Sternbild. That would be where Jake Martinez showed up.
"Handsome," Fire Emblem called out, holding their hands up to their mouth to shout. "You can't stay here! The air…!"
Barnaby shook his head, ignoring them. It was unbearably hot, Barnaby felt as if he were boiling alive, but he refused to budge from that spot. The sheriff would be there any minute now, and Barnaby wanted him to know, he was willing to suffer any discomfort to defeat him.
"Fire Emblem!" Rock Bison yelled. "He's suicidal… leave him be…" Suicidal? Barnaby had a hard time grasping the meaning of the word. How could he want to die? Tiger was alive and everything was okay now… How could he want to leave Tiger behind? It was a foolish thought, Barnaby decided, dismissing it with a shake of his head. Fire Emblem was hesitant, unsure of what action to take next. Rock Bison's voice roared over the fire, "Nathan! Get out of there!"
Fire Emblem's eyes narrowed and without warning their body collided with Barnaby's. Barnaby rolled and tumbled, Fire Emblem's long and lithe body smacking against his over and over. Barnaby rolled into a garden, coming to a stop at the bottom of some stranger's stoop. Fire Emblem crashed into the stone wall, their long legs up in the air almost comically.
"What the fuck?" Barnaby complained, climbing to his feet shakily. He brushed his clothes off, picking a bit of moss from his blonde hair. "Fire Emblem… what are you doing?"
Fire Emblem shook their head and climbed to their feet. "Listen, Handsome, you may be a cutie, but you're a dummy." Fire Emblem placed their dark, smooth hands on Barnaby's face, turning his head to the side. "Look…"
The entire square was consumed by flames. The scaffold was gone, the fountain was hidden behind copious smoke, and even the stone seemed to be aflame. Origami Cyclone's body, along with the others, was completely consumed. It was as if that space was melting completely. Barnaby wondered if the earth might just swallow up the entire square, leaving nothing but a gaping black hole.
"If you're going to die today," Fire Emblem panted, fanning themselves with their hand. "At least don't let it be from friendly fire…"
"Nathan," Rock Bison muttered, placing a tan hand against Fire Emblem's thin forearm. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine…" Fire Emblem insisted, shuddering at the use of his birth name. "We can't lose our focus though, the sheriff will…"
"The sheriff will be here any minute." The sheriff finished with a grandiose bow. Barnaby's skin prickled from the proximity of the sheriff. He turned, his green eyes wide in shock. The sheriff smiled, a truly sickening smile, and Fire Emblem let out a surprised gasp.
The sheriff placed his hand on Barnaby's shoulder and squeezed. "Hello, BBJ…"
"Get your hand off of me." Barnaby growled, chewing his words with vehemence. His head swam with rage, his eyes feeling as if they were in a boiling pot of water. His face reddened, his ears tinged pink. He clenched and unclenched his fists, his lips drawn tight. "You can't just keep doing as you please."
"Oh, but who's going to stop me? A pretty little, soldier boy like yourself?" The sheriff reached up, stroking a strand of Barnaby's long, flaxen hair. Barnaby nearly choked on his words. He spun around his sword swinging wildly. The sheriff parried each blow, laughing, taunting, further enraging Barnaby. Barnaby hacked at the sheriff, ignoring the pain as the sheriff sliced the flesh of his arms. "Why are you so mad, Bun-ny?"
Barnaby hesitated for a second, the use of his nickname causing his heart to plunge into his stomach. It was a personal thing, intimate, something just between him and Tiger. The sheriff had no business knowing it. And then, agony, fear, despair. How did the sheriff know? Had Tiger said it? Had Tiger called out for him? Barnaby swallowed the rising bile and gripped his sword with both hands.
The sheriff smiled, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "I'm going to kill you, Bun-ny." The sheriff struck Barnaby in the thigh with his sword, wrenching it free with a sickening SQUISH! "And then I'm going to kill those two over there." The sheriff pointed toward Rock Bison and Fire Emblem with his sword. "And then, I'll have Wild Tiger all for myself."
The sheriff looked up slowly, his blue eyes locking with Barnaby's. Barnaby was silent and motionless, the two men staring at one another for an extended amount of time. The sheriff's mouth twitched at the corners and he broke into a wide grin. "Do you want to know? You do, don't you? You want to know if I fucked him."
"It doesn't matter." Barnaby replied, frowning deeply. "Because you won't ever get to touch him again!" Barnaby brought his sword upward swiftly, nearly knocking the sheriff's sword from his hand. The sheriff growled and shook his head, muttering to himself.
"'Bunny'," The sheriff whined mockingly. "'Please Bunny, save me!' So pathetic. 'Bunny! Make it stop, Bunny'. He never stops talking…"
"Stop fucking talking! Just…" Barnaby smashed his sword against the sheriff's armor. He pushed against the sheriff, sliding him backward. "Stop…" Barnaby's green eyes reflected blue and he punched the sheriff in the throat roughly. "Fucking…" The sheriff dropped to the ground, rolling to the side as Barnaby stomped the earth with his foot. "Talking!"
The sheriff's eyes narrowed and he scrambled onto his knees, retrieving his sword before Barnaby could kick it away. The sheriff staggered to his feet, gulping for air audibly. He rubbed his throat bitterly, his face twisted into a snarl. "I don't know how you manage to do that, but it won't happen again." The sheriff lunged forward, swiping and slicing at Barnaby, but no matter how Barnaby moved, the sheriff dodged.
Barnaby's blood sprayed across the sheriff's clothes and face. He smiled, his tongue darting out of his mouth for a taste. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Barnaby asked with a grimace. He swallowed heavily, trying to ignore the deep gouge in his forearm.
"I wasn't loved enough as a child." The sheriff replied with a smile.
"You're fucked up, you know that right?" Barnaby asked, stumbling slightly before righting himself.
"Keep talking," The sheriff insisted. "Your power has its limits."
"I have enough for you." Barnaby lied. His head and arms felt heavy. He felt as if he couldn't keep his eyelids from drooping closed. He had been fighting for so long, the air was thick with smoke, and the blood running down his arms was pooling underneath in a menacing amount.
"Before I kill you, before I gut you like a little piggy…" The sheriff drawled, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to tell you what I'm going to do to Kotetsu…"
At the mention of Tiger's real name, something inside of Barnaby snapped. He dropped his sword, his fists connected with the sheriff over and over again. He dented the armor, pressing it into the sheriff's body, causing much discomfort. He brought both of his fists down, smacking against the iron chest plate until the sheriff was on the ground. He lifted his foot, aiming to stomp on the sheriff's head, but instead, his foot came down on the sword, the tip piercing through the boot and into Barnaby's foot.
Barnaby cried out, yanking himself free of the blade. He staggered backward, falling into the dirt. He unlaced his boot and pushed it off, removing the blood-filled sock and throwing it to the ground. He examined the puncture, automatically, in too much pain to process the danger he was still in.
The sheriff shook his head, laughing cruelly as he brought the sword down against the back of Barnaby's neck. The sword should have cut through the neck, perhaps needed one or two more chops to decapitate him cleanly, but instead the sword was halted in mid-air.
The sheriff looked up and into a pair of amber eyes and then down at the hand holding the sword's blade. Tiger's fingers bled profusely but he held firm, his face angry and disgusted rather than pained. He met the sheriff's gaze and without looking away spoke to Barnaby, "Hey, Lil Bunny… don't go running off without me again."
Barnaby looked up at Tiger, an extraordinary sense of pride and affection swelling in his stomach. He nodded in agreement, moving quickly out of the path of the sword. He stood, one boot off and one boot on, blood soaking through his clothes, running down his skin and disappearing into the earth. "Tiger, are you alright?"
"Wild Tiger," the sheriff cooed, as if he was truly and genuinely delighted to see the older man. "You've popped out of your hidey hole. You can watch me kill your lover now…"
Tiger's eyes glowed an eerie blue, his handsome face serious. Instead of releasing the sword, his hand moved up the blade, his fist wrapping around the sheriff's hand on the hilt. The sheriff's eyes narrowed in confusion and he flicked his wrist, trying to shake Tiger's grip. Tiger yanked roughly, bringing the sheriff's body against his. He wanted to vomit, he wanted to shout and flinch and turn away, but instead he moved in, even closer, knocking his head against the sheriff's.
The sheriff reeled and Tiger yanked again, this time dislodging the weapon from the sheriff's grip. Tiger's eyes glittered triumphantly and, without a word, he crushed the sword with his bare hands, twisting it into an utterly useless shape. He tossed the broken sword to the ground and turned, punching the sheriff square in the jaw.
The sheriff cursed, blood and spit spewing from his mouth. He hawked his throat loudly, shooting a tooth out from between his lips into the grass. "I don't understand," the sheriff said, panic setting into his nasal voice. "What are you… what are you thinking?"
Barnaby regained his composure and grabbed his abandoned sword. He held it tightly in his bloodied hands and approached the sheriff. Tiger lifted his hand, pressing his finger to his forehead, he shook his head and cut his eyes at the sheriff, "Careful, Bunny… this guy… he's up here…"
Barnaby paused, hesitant and confused. His hands shook, his body becoming clammy and covered in sweat. "I don't understand."
"He can read minds." Tiger admitted, and somehow, he felt a little strange saying so aloud. He had realized the sheriff's ability in the chamber, but he had no way to prove it. He felt self-conscious and thick, but to his credit, the sheriff simply sighed. He didn't laugh or call Tiger stupid. He only nodded and attempted to remove his heavily damaged armor.
"Then…" Barnaby said, realizing the deadly implications of fighting a mind reader.
"Then, this time…" Tiger said, offering Barnaby a small smile. "It's better if we don't have a plan."
"It doesn't matter, as soon as you think it, I hear it…" the sheriff spat. "You can't beat me." The sheriff laughed loudly, shaking his head with humorous disbelief. "You have no chance, I am invinci-"
The sheriff's words were cut off as an arrow pierced through his throat, just inches above his chest plate. His hand shot upward and he ripped the arrow from his throat. It was a deadly wound, and to remove it meant an even swifter death. The sheriff's mouth opened and blood bubbled over his lips and down his chin. He moved his lips, his teeth stained pink, and tried to speak. He looked up and around, searching for the archer who had defeated him.
But he couldn't see. His vision darkened and he sank to his knees. He fell forward onto his hands and let out a gurgled cry. He screamed in agony, his life pouring out in scarlet streams. He gasped and choked as Barnaby's leg connected with his ribs. He rolled onto his back, the wide sky above him.
"Stop, don't, Bunny, no…" Tiger pleaded, pressing his palm against Barnaby's chest. Barnaby's eyes widened in shock and he opened his mouth to protest. "He's an awful man," Tiger agreed before Barnaby could speak. "And he… he…" Tiger's voice cracked and he looked down shamefully. Barnaby tried to bypass Tiger, spinning around him to finish the sheriff off. "Stop! Bunny… he's dying… just let him…"
"I want to squeeze his life out of his body, with my own hands," Barnaby growled.
"I don't want that!" Tiger exclaimed, shaking his head emphatically. "I don't want you to stain yourself…" Barnaby shook his head apologetically but kept advancing. "I want you to be the good guy!" Tiger shouted, closing his eyes. He stood motionless, his body rigid and tense. He was prepared to hear the sickening cries of the sheriff, he was expecting to hear bones snap and twist.
But instead Barnaby's hand slid into his. Tiger opened his eyes and looked at Barnaby, his stomach fluttering pleasantly. "Bunny?"
"Let's go home." Barnaby said, his hand squeezing Tiger's gently, meaningfully. "I made a lot of promises and I intend to keep them."
"Make one more." Tiger whispered, pulling Barnaby's other hand into his as well.
"What?" Barnaby asked breathlessly.
"Ask me again." Tiger said softly, almost too quiet for Barnaby to hear him.
"Ask you what?"
"Ask me," Tiger leaned in closely, his head rested against Barnaby's chest. "Who has my heart."
Barnaby lifted Tiger's chin up gently and looked into the older man's amber eyes. "Kotetsu…" For a long moment that was all Barnaby could manage to say. "Kotetsu, who has your heart?"
"You have my heart, Barnaby." Tiger admitted. "I want you to promise, that you'll take care of it."
"B-B-B-Bunny!" Tiger said in surprise as Barnaby lifted him into his arms, and began carrying him princess style through the streets. "Wait… W-w-w-w-here are we going?"
"Rock Bison, Fire Emblem," Barnaby called over his shoulder, ignoring Tiger's protests. "Come on, we're going home."
"But, wait!" Fire Emblem called, darting through the decimated street after Barnaby and Tiger. They paused beside the sheriff, looking down at the dead man with overwhelming hatred. They huffed loudly and continued after the others. "Wait, Handsome! Don't you want to know who killed him? Wait! Wait for me!" Fire Emblem tripped over some uprooted stone, "I said to fucking wait, asshole! Shit!"
Rock Bison turned, peering through the thick smoke and dust. He snapped to attention, catching movement on the roof of the church. Rock Bison squinted, there was a brief flash of long, gray hair and a glimpse of the bow held by a silvery, pale hand. The person disappeared around the steeple and Rock Bison nodded his head. He cleared his throat and began walking, calling after the others tiredly, "I'm right behind ya."
EPILOGUE
"Is this right?" Tiger asked, frowning at his work doubtfully.
"Dad." Kaede groaned, the single syllable dragged out with disappointment. "You did it upside down."
"Gah!" Tiger looked down at the carved turnip and sighed. "I'm sorry, Kaede, I'm a useless father."
"It's okay," Kaede said with a shrug. "Barnaby's turned out okay."
Tiger rolled his eyes and turned in his seat to inspect Barnaby's turnip. It wasn't much better. Tiger laughed, and pat Kaede on the head softly. "Let me see yours, Kaede."
Kaede beamed, presenting her father with her carved turnip only a moment later. She held it up proudly for him to inspect and he smiled wide. "It's wonderful. The best Samhain turnip I have ever seen. The fairies will love it!"
"Do you think the fairies know it's Barnaby's birthday?" Kaede asked, sitting beside her father closely. She rested her head in the crook of his arm and looked up at him, her eyes wide and excited.
"Oh, I don't know," Tiger sighed, turning to look at Barnaby. "I'll bet they have their ways of finding out."
"Fairies don't exis-" Barnaby began matter-of-factly when Tiger pressed his finger to his lips, hushing him.
"Just watch, Bunny." Tiger instructed with a smile. "You'll see."
As if on cue, the entire field, covered in a blanket of darkness, lit up. A thousand tiny lights erupted. The lights began to dance, over the grass, across the fields, into the trees, soaring into the sky. They moved slowly, and then rapidly, thousands of tiny, sparkling orbs.
"Look, Dad!" Kaede cried out excitedly. "Look, Barnaby, look!" She leaned across her father, tugging on Barnaby's sleeve. "The fairies!"
Barnaby couldn't help but smile. He nodded and laughed, watching the fireflies glittering across the sky and land like stars. Barnaby looked over, his eyes meeting Tiger's. Tiger grinned happily and stood. He reached out for Barnaby's hand and pulled him to his feet.
"Happy Birthday, Barnaby."
"Thank you," Barnaby replied, a silly smile twisting his handsome face. "I have to admit, I've never seen anything like this…."
"It's the last dance of the fireflies." Tiger explained. "Once winter comes, the fairies go down below…" Kaede squealed in delight. She hopped from the bench and began to twirl in place, dancing happily. Tiger smiled, following behind Barnaby as he led him further into the field.
Barnaby stopped in the middle of the field, Kaede but a speck in the distance. He looked up at the silver stars and then all around at the golden fireflies. He cleared his throat and brushed his thumb against Tiger's cheek. They kissed slowly, deeply.
"I love you, Kotetsu,"
"I love you, Bunny."
Barnaby twirled Tiger around, a blush settling deep into both of their cheeks. Tiger closed his eyes as Barnaby leaned in for another kiss. And then they twirled again, Barnaby's strong hands guiding Tiger's slender body. "Hey, Tiger."
"Yeah?" Tiger whispered, nearly out of breath from the intensity.
"I want this every year." Barnaby said with a smile, his cheeks stained scarlet. "And for every birthday." He kissed Tiger again and took a step back. "I want to share this last dance of the fireflies."