(Many apologies for this being so late. I'm ashamed of its lateness…gah. Anyways, this chapter took quite a while and ran into many roadblocks, but I'm hoping this will be the last one to give me trouble since the next few are going to start revealing the underlying storyline. Following this one should be a short, two/three page interlude chapter.)
Warning: R
Pairings: Aku/Dan, Crack! and Kam/Shinji implications.
Dedicated to my Aki-mun.
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Stumbling out of the inn, Kamio almost tripped down the single low step, catching himself and squinting his single working eye at the sun that was streaming down from the azure sky. His head thrummed, hammering from behind the eye patch and if he had an eye back there he was sure it would have popped out from the pressure that was building behind the orbital socket.
He rubbed his fingers over the patch, leaning against the side of the building to let himself get used to the daylight. Light he saw so little of, confined to the night where the business he conducted could only take place in. Sighing he let his head fall back against the wall, staring up at the eave that left him with a bit of shade. A spider(1) wove a web there, delicate legs balancing along the thin strands of silk, weaving the intricate design finer then any human could ever dream. The silk shone as the light bounced off its iridescent surface, sparkling like a star fallen to earth.
The clop of horse hooves in the distance drew his gaze from the web to the road, staring down the dirt path that led to the bridge. As they drew nearer Kamio saw the flapping six coin flag(2) of the Sanada clan attached to the back of one of the riding samurai. So the great warrior had returned, the redhead thought and smirked. It had been over a week since Sanada Genichirou had rode out of town on his black warhorse, ready for battle. Yukimura would be ecstatic to know the renowned samurai had returned safely.
Taking in a deep breath he stepped back out into the light, narrowly missing a cart filled with sacks of rice. Grumbling he moved down the streets, watching the goings on of the small town. Women moved about sweeping off front porches, and the shops had opened hours before, selling their wares in the open air, or behind silk covered doorways.
He weaved in and out of the morning traffic, passing by Inui-san's apothecary, glancing inside and seeing the tall pharmacist weighing a bunch of herbs and talking to a customer. Continuing on he noticed Momoshiro's little stand wasn't set up yet, though everyone knew the artist showed up when he felt like it and no sooner. He scowled slightly and resisted the urge to childishly stick his tongue out in the direction of said stand and moved on, hand shoved in the fold of his kimono, head facing down and back hunched. Most people avoided the rough looking young man or whispered comments to their companions behind held up hands. Kamio ignored them all trudging to the building he called home, he raised his head up just in time to avoid crashing right into Yanagi who was just coming out of the building.
Blinking in surprise the older professor moved out of the way, avoiding collision. Kamio jumped slightly, startled by the sudden appearance of the familiar face and then bowed.
"Good morning, Yanagi-Sensei, did you sleep well?" Kamio said, tilting his head to the side to let his auburn hair fall in front of the patch.
"Better then usual…you look like you had a rough night," he stated softly, words somehow always sounding more intelligent when they came from Renji's lips.
Kamio nodded, looking up at the professor for a moment, noticing the bandage on his neck that was undoubtedly covering a bite wound. He bowed before continuing towards the building, stepping inside cautiously, hoping no customers were inside. Lucky for him it was empty except for Tezuka-san who was sitting behind the counter. The day manager looked up, glasses perched on the edge of his nose, and he briefly acknowledged the whore before turning back to the account books. Kamio bowed deeply in respect before heading through the backroom and towards the staircase.
He waded through the silk and popped out into the hallway, moving down it slightly and looking around. Pulling a pouch from the inside of his sleeve he checked the coins inside, confirming that all the yen were there. Smiling, he put his winnings back in his sleeve and went to head up the stairs to see Shinji. That was until he heard the noise coming from the spare room. Curious as always, Akira tiptoed down the hall, already having removed his shoes at the proper place underneath the staircase. He slid up to the partially open doorway with the silence of a seasoned pickpocket and peeked around the corner.
Kamio couldn't figure out if he was disgusted or surprised by the sight, either way he felt like observing this one to the end.
The spare room was usually the home of Taichi and sometimes Akutsu if he hadn't wandered into the streets and passed out in an alley, only to return promptly as the lights began burning in the brothel. Today they seemed to be sharing the space…in more ways then one.
Dan lay on his back, short yukata pushed open and draping around his small frame. The monster of a man known as Akutsu had both hands planted beside the boy's head, body poised over the smaller one, like a predator over prey. Those miniscule hands laid over Akutsu's biceps, so tiny compared to those strong, wiry arms. Kneeling between spread thighs, Jin's body moved slowly, pushing in with such gentleness. Gray hair fell limp around his face, heavy lidded eyes focusing down on the smaller body beneath it.
The floorboards creaked under the boy's shoulders as his hips were pulled further up into Akutsu's lap, sliding deeper still. Dan panted softly, lower lip trapped between small, white teeth, noises confined behind forced shut lips. Gray yukata, Akutsu left on but open, offered slight modesty, draping over their hips, catching on one of Dan's knees causing the green dragon(3) embroidered along the bottom to dance back and forth from the sway of fabric.
One last push and he was all the way in, face mere inches from the boy's, as if waiting. Taichi's eyes fluttered open, the light brown orbs watering slightly, he released his lip from their ivory confines, letting them part delicately. Akutsu leaned forward, claiming the mouth with a rough kiss, forcing Dan's head back slightly, pressing it against the pile of rejected silk that made a makeshift futon for the boy.
Lips never separated as long arms slid under the boys shoulder blades, bowing down to imprison him with his body. Dan's arms were able to wrap around Akutsu's neck now, slim fingers clinging to the yukata, bunching it around the powerful shoulders of the other man.
The redhead in the hall was frozen there, far too interested to leave. He had never thought he'd witness such passion from the rough man with the opium addiction. Akutsu was so considerate of his smaller companion even though the roughness still came through with the bordering brutal kisses and sharp movements of his hips. He remained pressed up against the wooden doorframe, single blue eye staring around to observe the strange phenomenon.
Dan's head fell back, the kiss breaking with a wet smack as Akutsu's shoulder's bunched up. The muscle slid like liquid under the skin, hard and unforgiving against the pale, translucent flesh. A growl deep and animalistic slipped from his throat, tawny eyes closing as his movements became even harder and more sporadic, leaving Kamio wondering how the slight boy beneath him could take the abuse.
Tiny fingers dug into powerful shoulders, only short, cut-off gasps coming from the boy as Akutsu pounded into him. Dan pressed his cheek against the man's pale upper arm, brown eyes opening and falling right on Kamio. Gasping, his head turned to hide in the other's neck as he tensed enough to cause Akutsu's head to snap to the side, gold eyes sharper then the finest katana. The redheaded courtesan found himself frozen beneath a gaze that one would never want to see turned on them as the opium addict disengaged slowly, wrapping the yukata around himself in one movement. Dan sat up, cheeks stained red as he watched the immensely taller man move towards the redhead in the hall. Kamio was panicking internally but found himself so pinned by the stare he couldn't move.
By the time the redhead had any mobility it was too late as the gray haired monster grabbed his wrist and hauled him back against the hallway wall. Hand moved from wrist to throat dragging the slighter man up to eyelevel and leaving him dangling a good foot off the floor, pressed painfully against the wood of the wall. Kamio coughed, hands grasping the other man's wrist in an attempt to get some of the pressure off his throat, he gagged, sputtering slightly as he was throttled. Pupils were nothing but pinpoints, surrounded by molten yellow that burned with an intense anger that would be quenched with nothing less then blood.
'Oni(4)…' the childhood nightmares that had been engrained into him were coming to life as he fell limp in the taller man's grip, though his fingernails dug into the muscled arm almost unconsciously. He was being irrational but he was terrified so much so he didn't even consider struggling.
Akutsu never bothered to say a word, free hand grabbing the loosely tied belt around Kamio's waist and tugging it off. The strip of maroon cotton fell to the floor like an afterthought as the yukata fell open, exposing the redhead to the man in front of him, pale skin flushed from fear. That snapped Kamio out of the terror induced haze as he brought his feet up to slam into the other man's torso, struggling and clawing to get away. Though feet simply hit hard muscle as if kicking a tree trunk and the clawing only seemed to fuel the other's actions, blood sliding down pale skin and dripping to the wooden floor.
It was a losing battle has one rough hand gripped his hip so hard it made him curl up despite being strangled and suspended from the floor. Kamio whimpered as his eye squeezed closed, this was far worse then anything Tachibana could do because at least he consented to that even if he didn't want it. As he hung there panting for breath, he felt that free hand reach up and pull off the eye patch he wore, exposing the gouged out socket. Long calloused fingers pressed against the scarred skin, running along the edges as a malicious chuckle bubbled up from the taller man's throat. Instinctively Kamio's hands released the arm to cover his face, hiding behind his hands and that was what broke him. The first choked sob slipped from his lips, gagging from behind a throat that was partially closed off from the infinitely strong grip of the ash haired man in front of him.
"I think that's more then enough, Akutsu-san," a smooth voice filled the hallway, soft and demanding all at the same time. White-wine colored eyes slipped sideways, eyeing the speaker who was none other then the head bookkeeper for the Atobe clan, Oshitari Yuushi. A folded fan was held in his left hand, setting in the palm of the right as he frowned, long sleeved haori emblazoned with the encircled jagged pine tree icon of the Atobe clan(5).
Akutsu knew what battles to pick and being part of the underworld himself he was quite aware that Oshitari was also a spy and spies for Samurai retainer clans were always ninja. He straightened to his full height and tossed Kamio to the floor at Oshitari's feet. The red head landed with a crack, his head smacking off the hardwood. He curled into a ball, hands hiding his face as he sobbed pathetically into the floor.
Moving from the hallway and back into the room in one stride, Akutsu disappeared pulling the silk curtain closed with a sharp tug. Oshitari walked across the hall, wooden shoes clacking softly against the floorboards and knelt beside the fallen redhead. He slipped the bronze war fan into his sleeve and reached to stroke the red hair gently, frowning.
Kamio flinched away from the touch, trying to turn away. No one touched his eye let alone saw it without the eye patch, he was highly protective of that area of his face. He would have taken the rape over that touch any day, it felt as if his skin was crawling when that soft caress rested on his hair
Oshitari frowned a bit, eyes softening slightly behind the custom made wire rim glasses, made of delicate silver wire by one of the most well known metal workers in the village. Standing, he walked over to the discarded eye patch, picking it up and resuming his kneeling position beside the smaller man. The redhead was lucky he had shown up, considering the only reason he had been here at all was because he wanted to get in some time before his days got busy. Considering the head of the Sanada clan was going to be in town, he was going to have his work cut out for him.
"Here," he said quietly, purring voice not echoing in the hallways at all. He waited for the fallen redhead to claim it, pulling it on and adjusting it over his face. Tears still slipped steadily down and sobs shook the small frame with their force. Oshitari sighed softly, sitting down gracefully and gathering the other into his arms. Kamio resisted for only a moment before he grabbed the haori and clung to the other man, sobbing into the expensive silk.
Leaning back against the hallway wall, Oshitari let the other cry, hand running soothingly over the redheads back and neck. He listened to the quiet movements in the building, the creaks from the ceiling signifying movement above him and the smell of opium that drifted from behind the silk curtain. The man in his arms was warm and he could feel the tears slip over his throat so acutely it was almost like acid. He blinked at the sensation, wondering what about the redhead was setting his nerves on fire. Reaching down he put his hand under the other's chin, tilting it up so he could look at the pale, tear stained face.
He knew him alright, Kamio Akira from the first room on the left at the end of the hallway. The redhead was wrapped up in quite a few gambling rings and was hard as hell to catch, one minute he was there the next he was gone. Oshitari had debated recruiting him for some time, considering speed and resilience were this little auburn haired spitfire's middle names. Not to mention his connections to the biggest gambling ring this side of Edo.
"Are you alright?" the purr resonated from his chest where Kamio's finger's rested, his hands aching from the grip he had on the inner dark blue kimono the other man was wearing beneath the gray haori. One by one his fingers released, before the hand settled back where it had been, palm flat over the other's heart. He blinked when his single cobalt eye met Oshitari's twin pair of deep violet blue, he felt like a butterfly, wings pinned and trapped under glass.
"Now I am…" he said softly, barely finding his voice. If Oshitari hadn't shown up he was sure something far worse would have happened to him. He found himself overly thankful for the dark eyed man, who was being so kind. Kamio wasn't used to this type of treatment…it was nice.
"Shall I escort you back upstairs," Oshitari smiled softly, eyes still staring into the other man's. Such a pretty blue, he thought idly, reaching to push a bit of hair away from the one visible eye. His hand lingered on the cheek, cradling it lightly in his strong yet gentle grip.
Kamio didn't even flinch at the touch but leaned into it, eyes equally locked onto the taller man's. He nodded a bit blankly, waiting for Oshitari to stand before getting to his feet, holding his yukata shut with one hand. Bending over he picked up the belt and retied it, eyes only leaving Oshitari for a moment. The bespectacled man put an arm around Kamio's waist for a bit of added support, walking towards the stairs and depositing his shoes before climbing them.
They reached the top of the stairs and to the incense scented hallway, all the doors were closed, sealed away from the waking world. Kamio paused by his door, tilting his head up to look at Oshitari. The Atobe spy leaned down without preamble and claimed the small redhead's lips, kissing him deeply to take his breath away. Kamio gasped softly, hands grabbing the front of the haori and deepening the kiss as another set settled on his waist. Oshitari pulled him closer hands sliding along the fabric of the loose yukata, feeling the muscle beneath and pulled the redhead against him. It felt as if time had stopped for a moment, leaving them pressed against one another in a passionate kiss. Oshitari leaned back and smiled before turning and walking down the hallway, disappearing into Gakuto's door with only a knock to announce his arrival.
Kamio watched the man disappear, hand coming up to touch his lips briefly, bringing him back down to reality. He couldn't understand what he had just been feeling, why he had acted like that, but he had liked it. Shaking his head he turned to slide the door open and was immediately shocked by the sight, his breath stopping in his throat.
Laying on the floor with blood pooling around his arms and throat was Shinji. The strings of his shamisen had each been carefully removed and wrapped precisely around his tiny wrists, pulled so tight the sharp make-shift garrote cut straight through the skin like butter. The same had been done to his throat, delicate skin broken and bleeding out on the floor.
Kamio rushed over and started picking at the strings, trying to get them away from the flesh so he could wrap the wounds before the pallor in his companion's skin grew deadly. Eventually he managed to untie the strings, throwing them to the side as more blood oozed onto the tatami. Kamio's hysterical mind decided to inform him that Dan was going to be seriously unhappy about having to replace all of those. Nimble fingers grabbed the cotton sheet off the futon, ripping it and wrapping the delicate wrists tight to cut off the blood flow. Adrenaline pumped through him, keeping him concentrating even when he wanted to start screaming in fear for the boy on the floor.
He had hope, he could feel the faint pulse like a moth beating its wings against the inside of a jar. Shifting he knelt by Shinji's head, gently cradling it in his lap and stroking the hair. Kamio's hands were shaking, at a loss for what to do. The breath of the black haired ex-geisha danced across his hand, letting him know that there was still life in Shinji, but did he come soon enough.
Reaching down Kamio gently took one hand, holding it and turning it over in his own. His lower lip trembled a bit, seeing the pads of his roommate's finger's torn and bleeding. Shinji must have played the instrument all night, the haunting melodies of lost love and loneliness and he was so angry that no one noticed when the music had stopped. No one had come to save him not even Kamio.
"I'm so sorry…Shinji.." his voice was choked with fear, wanting so much for the other to be okay. He was praying to anything that would listen that he would open his eyes and look at Kamio. Say a word, anything…just wake up.
Glazed blue eyes fluttered open, pupils large and lusterless, staring up into Kamio's face. Lips parted but no noise came out, instead he just stared. A grin broke through the redhead's misery, shining down on the other like sunshine.
"Oh…thank the gods, oh…" his shaking fingers caressed Shinji's face, pushing limp hair away from the pale visage and for the second time that day the tears came, slipping down his cheeks in joy instead of sorrow. Shinji shifted very slowly, his arms shaking as he put pressure on them but he managed to get upright. Hands reached up to caress Kamio's face and he leaned forward to kiss away the tears, holding the redhead's jaw gently.
"You scared me so bad, Shinji…I'm so sorry I left you here…" and now Kamio took up the mumbling on and on, apologies said in a million ways and none of them good enough in the redhead's eyes. He shouldn't have left Shinji, he had been so rash and stupid, it had almost taken the person that meant the most to him in this world away.
Ibu remained silent and simply crawled into Kamio's lap, resting his head in the crook of Kamio's neck and petting the side of the redhead's face, cool fingers tracing the flushed, tear stained skin. Time passed quietly between them, simple sobs finally petering off and dissipating completely. Kamio finally gathered himself, slipping his arms around Shinji and getting them both over to the futon.
All he wanted to do was sleep right now, the day hadn't went as planned and he had had about enough of being awake and aware. Settling in the small bed he curled on his side, spooning around the slight, fragile man that lay against him. Finger's moved over the make-shift bandages and he hid his face in the back of Shinji's neck, feeling so guilty and pained by the dark stained linens. The smaller man shifted, letting his hands grasp Kamio's, stilling their movement over his arms and holding them tight.
Soon they fell into sleep's arms, looking like yin and yang, fire and ice as they laid curled against each other as the light seeped through the cracks in the blinds.
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Historical Notes for Chap7:
1.) Spider symbolism: The weaver of fate, the keeper of time. The spider is representative of the wheel of fate, winding the strings of time and forcing the wheel to turn with its fibers. Sign of changes to come and a twist of fate in the near future.
2.) Sanada Clan flag. Yes, the Sanada were actually a samurai Daimyo family. They were represented by a flag with three coins across the top and three across the bottom. They were first a Takeda (another ruling Daimyo, which is basically the head clan of the area) retainer clan and moved on to become a Daimyo.
3.) Dragon symbolism. This is just a little play on the smoking opium, for anyone who knows drug references when someone asks you if you'd like to smoke opium or denotes that they are smoking opium the phrase is "I'm riding the dragon" or "Would you like to ride the dragon?"
4.) Oni are Japanese demons. They are also known as the Japanese boogie men because children are told tales of the Oni to keep them in bed or from being bad. Oni are red/yellow eyes demons with wild hair and snarling visages.
5.) Atobe Clan flag. Yet again another Samurai clan who were also Takeda Retainers. They never quite established Daimyo elite-ness though. Their flag was a jagged pine tree shaped symbol with a thick circle around it.