Title:Lost in Translation.
Lesson VII: Discussions. (No. 7 of ?)
Pairing: KuroFai
Disclaimer: These two were hatched from the collective brain of CLAMP. Not mine.
Spoilers: I don't think so, but it is set during the Shurano/Yamano arc. I'm writing a few short stories based on the adventures of Kurogane and Fai in Yasha territory (aka "Yamano") with a focus on the language barrier.

Fai was giving him The Look.

Kurogane felt the hairs on his nape rise, but he did not retract the hand proffering the katana.

"I don't want to." Fai's wiry shoulders were set, his eyes narrowed. Kurogane had absolutely no idea why Fai was being stubborn: he'd already complimented Fai's archery ("not too bad" was about the highest praise he ever doled out), so the man had no reason to view sword lessons as an insult. But for all he knew, Fai didn't feel insulted but simply wanted to piss him off because it was Tuesday and Tuesdays were "piss off Kuro-pon days."

With a growl, the ninja shoved the katana into his belt. Clearly, a demonstration was in order. He stalked over to Fai and circled around the mage, who tracked his movements warily. Kurogane removed all of Fai's arrows from his quiver and carefully placed them on the ground. "All gone," he said clearly, pointing to the empty quiver so the meaning was unmistakable. Then he pulled out the katana and leveled it at Fai's chest. "Now what?" He smirked to himself. There was no way Fai could argue with that clear logic: in a heated battle with multiple opponents, it was entirely probable that Fai could run out of arrows and be left defenseless.

"All gone, all gone," Fai repeated, turning the phrase over in his mouth, his gaze slightly unfocused as Kurogane had noticed was the mage's habit when he was processing new ideas. Then Fai grinned sharply, and suddenly there were bandaged hands pressing against his chest and Kurogane wondered fuzzily exactly how the slippery mage had slipped around the katana so easily and what the idiot was doing and why he was just standing there, leaning forward instead of knocking some sense into said idiot. Fai ran his fingers across his chest, tugging at the torn shirt suggestively. "All gone... now what?"

A sudden stab of anger flashed through the ninja's mental haze, anger at Fai for using such a dirty tactic and at himself for reacting like a gullible teenager. He's just being a damned tease to distract me. Teasing and touching didn't mean anything to Fai other than a game and he'd always known that. He exhaled slowly, willing himself not to jerk back instinctively; he was still holding a katana in the air behind Fai. Kurogane lowered the katana to his right hip slowly, then grasped Fai's shoulder with his left hand and pushed him away, his resolve hardening. The touching games had to stop now, before they had been a mere source of annoyance, but circumstances had changed. They were stranded in a strange, hostile land, with no brats and manjuu bun around to lend the usual measure of innocence to Fai's games -- and he was apparently under enough stress to actually start reacting to the flirting.

Then there was the matter of the small, tenuous understanding that had been forged when they'd grudgingly exchanged a bit of personal information. There hadn't been that much shared since that day, just a few bits and pieces there, but Kurogane wasn't willing to let Fai jeopardize that with his stupid games. "Don't do things like that as a joke," Kurogane said, his voice tight. "Don't touch me."

Fai's eyes rounded in shock and he opened his mouth as if to protest, but then he shut it. He nodded, looking rather miserable. Obviously Fai had been expecting the usual death threats and chasing instead of a clear order.

Kurogane chose to ignore Fai's expression. The idiot was a full-grown man, he could figure out some new diversion to amuse himself. "Now listen. I don't know why you don't like swords. But I'm not going to let you get yourself killed. If that stupid manjuu bun shows up and you're dead, it'll probably sulk and blame me and leave me in this dump. So you're not going to die."

Kurogane wasn't certain how much of that rant the mage understood, but a shadow of a smile passed over his face and he stretched his arms out to accept the sword. "Kuro-sensei wins."

Kurogane blocked Fai's thrust and stepped forward quickly, forcing the other man to engage in some fancy footwork to defend himself. The ninja noted that Fai's movements were slower than earlier; he was lagging, breathing labored, and blond hair sticking limply to his neck. But the expression of intense concentration on the mage's face did not waver. Kurogane smirked as he lunged for Fai's exposed ribcage and watched the man dance out of the way with less spring than before. The mage would never ask for a break; he could be remarkably stubborn, just like the brat.

As amusing as it was to know that he could push the notoriously lazy mage until he dropped, Kurogane called the practice a few minutes later. He wasn't tired himself, but it would be foolish to push Fai too far and strain his developing sword muscles. The mage had gotten used to archery again, but swordplay made different demands on different areas of the body.

Fai began to clean the katana, and Kurogane observed as he wiped the dust off the blade and the sweat from the hilt, as he'd been instructed. Then he turned his attentions to his own borrowed katana; he'd opted to use it instead of Souhi because the force of the longsword was enough for him to simply knock away Fai's katana with one blow, which would have been rather counterproductive for a training session.

The session had been good, though. He was satisfied with Fai's progress and the katana was a good match for Fai. At ninety centimeters long and three kilograms, it was much shorter and lighter than Souhi, but Fai wouldn't need a sword that could knock a man off his mount, and he wasn't physically built to handle such a weapon anyway. The katana, on the other hand, complimented Fai's natural speed and would enable Fai to deal quick, punishing slashes to anyone who managed to slip past his arrows. It was a fine piece of metal, too: responsive, with just the right balance of give and rigidity. The katana wouldn't make Fai a master swordsman -- years of practice and a certain talent the mage lacked were necessary for that, but Fai was observant and rarely repeated mistakes. He would become an adequate wielder with enough practice, which was satisfactory enough for Kurogane's goal of keeping the mage alive.

Swords cleaned and carefully wrapped inside old cloth, the two men then stretched themselves carefully. Kurogane knew from experience that he would get stiff if he didn't take care to loosen his muscles after a long practice. He tilted his neck to the left slowly and groaned as he felt bones pop.

Fai glanced at him with concern, but he didn't offer to massage it as he would have in the past. The mage had been scrupulously careful to avoid any physical contact with him since being snapped at two weeks ago. The only time they touched now was if Kurogane had to correct his form during practice. Which is the way it should be, Kurogane told himself.

Fai settled himself on a rock outcropping and rummaged through his cloth bag, pulling out several slender branches and a short knife. He started whittling at one of the branches as had become his habit whenever he was unoccupied – the branches were intended for arrows, but so far none of them had met Fai's approval. Each night the whittled branches ended up in their cook fire.

Kurogane sat down next to Fai on the sun-warmed rock, watching as his slender hands shaved off a long curl of bark. The mage's half-lidded eyes had a distant, dreamy look, as if he were thinking of a pleasant far-off place. It was a peaceful look and Kurogane rather liked it. Fai didn't have many like that.

Fai frowned at the branch he held. The knife had cut too deep. "It's hard." He shook his head and chose another branch.

"Why bother? You can just keep getting arrows from that old archer."

A pale eyebrow quirked up. "Ah, Kuro-sei's so preseign. But it's good if you make your arrows."

"Did your brother make his arrows?" Kurogane asked carefully, with a neutral tone to convey that the question was just a causal query and didn't have to be answered. Still, this was the best time to ask: he'd found that Fai tended to be less guarded when his hands were occupied and when he was warm, as if the heat melted the hard, frozen parts of him.

Fai continued whittling his new branch as he considered the question, and he smiled wistfully. "Yes, he did. He said it was... big."

"Important." Kurogane nodded to show that he understood. "You don't like swords, but you like archery. Because of your brother?"

Fai curled off another long strip of bark before answering. "Maybe. And with arrows, you don't get close."

That answer made sense on more levels than Kurogane wanted it to. Distance had always been precious to Fai, even when he was parading as the most affectionate member of their little group with his hugs and pokes and teases. Yet, the mage was sitting next to him and answering his questions. Kurogane decided to press a little further. "When you shoot, you have very good luck. Can you do that with other things or just the wind?"

"Mmm, I don't try. But maybe it does change because I want to hit the target." Then Fai's eyes snapped wide open as he realized the implications of what Kurogane had been asking him and what he had just unwittingly revealed. His entire body froze, like a rabbit that had suddenly found itself in the middle of meadow with no hiding place and a predator circling overhead.

Kurogane blinked, startled: he'd known Fai would react to being asked about magic, which is why he hadn't used the word "magic" in his question. But he hadn't expected the mage to be threatened by his question or even that surprised. Kurogane had grown up around priestesses, however, so perhaps Fai's magical nature wasn't so glaringly obvious to other people and he hadn't expected to be questioned about it.

That didn't quite explain the fear Fai was radiating, his face impossibly pale. Sure, he'd bitched at the mage plenty and threatened to kill him on a regular basis, but outside of practice he'd not so much as scratched the man. He'd never said he had a problem with magic other than rightly complaining when Fai wouldn't use his powers to help them escape near-certain death... except for complaining about that witch Yuuko... and maybe Tomoyo... and the manjuu bun. Kurogane swore to himself. Obviously, Fai had gotten the wrong impression. He hadn't been angry with those people and that bun because of their magic, but because they were sneaky, conniving, or annoying. Well, Fai could be sneaky, conniving, and annoying too, but it didn't have anything to do with his magic. In truth, the only trait of Fai's that genuinely pissed him off was his dishonesty, and Kurogane was beginning to suspect that the dishonesty was deeply entwined with the fear.

The only way was to address that fear was to let Fai know that he could trust him, that he didn't have to be afraid. And Fai would probably only trust if he made himself vulnerable first, like he had when they'd argued about who taught Fai archery. "I don't hate magic." Kurogane swallowed, suddenly awkward like a tall adult who has chosen to kneel so he doesn't frighten a small child. It wasn't a familiar role for him at all. "I... my mother was a priestess."

That glazed expression melted from Fai's face, and he resumed whittling the branch. "That's nice," Fai said, his voice very small.

Kurogane pretended that he didn't notice the branch quivering in Fai's hands. "If you say you did not use wind magic on purpose, I believe you. But if you want to use magic, I don't care."

"How did you know... I have wind magic?"

The ninja considered his reply carefully. "Well, the Space Time B—Yuuko told us on Kouryo. But even before that, you flew in Hanshin. You already knew how to fly. Your kudan didn't teach you that." There was more to it than that, though. Every little thing Fai did screamed that he was magic: his airy voice, his light gait, his flowing choice of dress, the way the breeze would ruffle his hair even when no one else could feel a breeze. It was so natural to Fai that he didn't even realize he was using it; when Fai had searched for the Kiishim's presence in that maze, he'd levitated off the ground and hadn't even noticed that his companions had been staring at him. Sometimes Kurogane half suspected that Fai might just float off if he got bored being earth-bound.

Fai gave a little, forced laugh as he spun the shaved branch through his fingers. "Kuro-pon watches good. He's so obreryselan." His eyes grew distant again, but this time there was remembered pain in them. "Not everyone is nice like Kuro-pon. Some people... want to kill mages. Witches. Anyone – anything - magic."

Kurogane's chest tightened in anger. There were bastards back in Japan, too, who had wanted Tomoyo dead, even when she was still a child with such tiny hands. He'd arrived at Yuuko's shop with the blood of their assassins still dripping from his face. Fai was not pure like Tomoyo, and Kurogane knew the man had committed some terrible acts – the mage understood him too well to be innocent. But he hardly deserved to die. For all his lies and deceit, he was a man who had shown compassion even when they'd still been strangers to each other. He was kind to a frightened boy he had no obligation to, and he'd returned the first feather to the dying princess when he could have easily just plucked it off Syaoran's cloak and secreted it away; no one else had noticed it. No, Fai didn't deserve death, even if he didn't value his own life. "You're such a pain," Kurogane growled. "But I won't let anyone kill you for your magic. Now if you piss someone off because you're an idiot, you're on your own."

Fai smiled then, a warm, real one. "I'll try not to be an idiot... for Kuro-panko."

A/N: There are some more references to Child of Celes in here (the wind magic.)

The katana in the story is based off a real one I saw in the Kyushu National Museum – it's designated a "National Treasure" because it apparently belonged to one of Tokugawa Ieyasu's men. It was so pretty and sharp that I wanted to take it home. Sadly, that was not an option.

Happy Valentine's Day, all. Eat lots of chocolate.