Title:Lost in Translation.
Lesson VIII: Spying.
(No. 8 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.
Rating: PG-16. For
all the stories as a whole (language, some violence... and possible
"adult situations.")
Word Count: 2734
Note: This story is definitely AU now that CLAMP has revealed more of Fai's background, and it contradicts with the back story I made up for Fai in Child of Celes (and which I occasionally reference here.) However, since this story is told from Kurogane's POV, I don't think that will affect the story much.
His target had started to move.
With a grunt, Kurogane nodded to the soldiers he'd been sharing a campfire with as he stood up to leave. They nodded back at him absentmindedly because their attention was fixed on Fai, who'd been narrating a nonsensical tale (as far as Kurogane could tell) with plenty of miming and sound effects to compensate for words he didn't know in Japanese. The soldiers particularly enjoyed those parts, excitedly interjecting with their guesses and boisterously taunting each other over whose speculative ability was superior. Of course, they'd been drinking like – well, soldiers- and were thus easily amused by an idiot mage's antics.
"Kuro-pon?" Said idiot had paused, hands posed mid-air, black eyes questioning. Kurogane rarely left Fai alone on the nights when wine rations were distributed.
"It's fine," Kurogane answered, shooting Fai a meaningful look as he flicked his eyes over to his target. Fai smiled knowingly and continued his tale as Kurogane disappeared among the tents. It wasn't that Fai couldn't take care of himself, but there were a few select bastards who liked to use the pretext of "being wasted" as an opportunity to try to feel the mage up, and Fai apparently felt compelled to exercise restraint since he'd gotten a reputation as being a skilled fighter. When Kurogane had yelled at him about his restraint, Fai had managed to explain that since he had that reputation, he couldn't exactly go around retaliating against "helpless drunks," especially since they were still technically prisoners of a sort. Kurogane had yelled at Fai some more, then swore to himself to get the matter resolved immediately.
Which was why he was currently padding down the winding paths through the tents, shadowing his target. They'd been in the camp almost three weeks without catching so much as a glimpse of General Yasmiso or developing any leads about possible feathers, although their prospects had improved now that they'd made some friendly acquaintances. The old archery instructor had taken a shine to Fai, and had introduced them to a small bunch of soldiers who had invited them to share their campfire. The seven weren't a bad lot, as far as soldiers went – they were a curious lot, and willing to share their alcohol in exchange for stories of far-off places and dirty jokes. And they didn't try to fondle Fai. A couple of them had certainly been looking, though, sneaking not-so-furtive glances at him around the campfire every night. Unfortunately, the damn idiot's stupid blond hair and pale face glowed in the light, making him appear soft and pretty and not nearly so annoying. Kurogane blamed Fai for that.
His target stopped, slowly putting his foot down as he turned to cast a suspicious glance over his shoulder, but Kurogane remained calm, his breathing even as he waited in a tent's shadow. Even if you knew exactly where to look, you'd never spot me, Kurogane smirked when his target rubbed his head in confusion and continued down the path. Souma was an annoying, moralistic nag, but her spying skills were second to none, and she'd trained him. In general, he preferred to take his opponents head-on so he could enjoy the pleasure of maiming or killing them directly, but the art of stealth had its benefits as well. There was a sort of amusement to be derived from being able to watch but not be watched. (With a sudden epiphany, Kurogane wondered if that was the reason The Bitch of Space and Time always had that little, knowing smirk on her face, and he resolved to never ever let the white pork bun in the bathroom when he was bathing.)
Kurogane hung back as his target approached a tent in the middle of the maze of officers' tents. The tent was by far the largest in camp, and its entrance was covered by a pagoda-style roof, flanked by armed guards on each side. The guards saluted sharply as his target strode up. "Officer Gion."
"I have a report to deliver to Lord Yasha. I assume he is not... indisposed?"
Kurogane went tense with anticipation. So that Yashmashy guy was sick.
"Lord Yasha is well and awaiting your report, sir." The guards bowed briefly and stepped aside, parting the drapes over the entrance, and Kurogane was only able to catch a glimpse of richly colored pillows and the leg of a table before his target disappeared inside. He eyed the tent with distaste; the distance was too great for him to properly eavesdrop on the conversation. A quick reconnaissance around the area revealed several of the surrounding tents were situated conveniently close to Yashmal's. Kurogane chose a vacant one and slipped inside, positioning himself against the back wall.
"...suffered no fatalities this time, but frankly, sir, that was luck. They were waiting behind that hill; they were expecting us. They made the same demands as last time, but they were being vague and prophetic as usual so the men seemed puzzled. I don't think anyone understands what they're after."
There was a response, but it was so soft Kurogane could not hear the words. But he felt the power behind that voice, dark and strong like an undertow that threatened to sweep the listener away. Suddenly, Kurogane wanted very badly to see what sort of a man possessed a voice like that.
"No sir, I don't have any ideas yet as to who could be leaking information."
Another soft response.
"I'm afraid I must respectfully disagree with Officer Urawa. Those two haven't done anything to indicate that they're affiliated with the bandits. They've been here for several weeks, but they haven't been asking suspicious questions or tried to leave camp. I told you about Kurogane's peculiar accent as well: it's been consistent. He's never slipped into the bandit dialect."
Another answer.
This time, there was a strained pause before Gion answered. "No sir, I don't quite believe that Fai is just some nomad Kurogane found wandering around the Forbidden Desert. There's something about that man that reminds me – with all due respect, my lord – of you. It's hard to explain, but when he's quiet, not joking around or anything but just thinking, sometimes he gets the exact same expression you do when you're worried. Like he's got all these responsibilities weighing on his mind and he knows that no matter what he decides, people are going to get hurt. And his manners are a little different from ours but refined, not all like a desert wanderer's."
Yasha said something very quickly then.
"Ashura's clan?! No, sir! Captain Hakata said Fai got very upset when he asked him about Ashura, like he hates Ashura. Maybe... Fai's people got wiped out by Ashura's, and he escaped into the desert." Gion sighed. "But since we don't know where the Ashuras live, it's rather hard to make a decent conjecture."
Yasha replied, his voice at normal speed.
"I haven't gotten any further opportunities to observe their skills yet. They only train early in the morning when no one's around, at Kurogane's insistence. Still, I'd like a chance to spar with him. He has the spirit of an excellent swordsman."
A reply.
"Please, my lord, just wait a few more days like the healer said. They're not going anywhere. Please don't strain yourself with exercise yet. If you... got hurt again..."
Yasha replied again, and Kurogane leaned forward in anticipation, straining the limits of his hearing. Perhaps Yasha might reveal the nature of his injury.
A shrill, irritated voice broke into Kurogane's thoughts: "Hey, if you're going to puke your guts out, do it away from my tent." There was a groan as the other man – presumably the potential puker – shuffled further away, and Kurogane swore to himself. He'd broken Souma's Ninjitsu Spying Rule Number 3: Do not get so caught up in spying that you ignore your surroundings. (Rule Number 1, of course, was Do not piss Souma off under any circumstances.)Whiny Voice noisily entered the tent next to Kurogane's, muttering about hangovers from cheap wine. Kurogane waited for a few seconds, then slipped out of his borrowed tent; more soldiers would likely be stumbling back from the campfires. He padded down the winding footpaths with as much speed as he could manage and still maintain his silence. All the tents in this area were officers', so he couldn't very well act like he belonged in this area. Pretending he had drunkenly wandered into the wrong section wouldn't work either; unlike a certain mage, he wasn't good at feigning inebriation.
After a few tense minutes, the campfires of the commons came into view, and Kurogane allowed himself a small smirk. He'd learned some very valuable information, although he didn't understand how it all fit together yet. He'd have to review the information with Fai. It would take patience (and probably some damned sketches) to explain the conversation to Fai, but the man did have good intuition.
Only three of the seven soldiers still lingered at their fire, talking in subdued tones as Fai dozed, his chin drooped against his chest. An army-issued coat had been draped over Fai's shoulders.
"Oi, Kurogane." The soldier sitting next to Fai raised his hand up casually in greeting, but the friendly gesture was incongruous with the flinty glint in his eyes. He was not wearing a coat. As Kurogane drew closer, he realized that the man's thigh was almost pressed against Fai's, and he felt his neck muscles go taut.
Kurogane narrowed his eyes at the soldier, but he spoke to Fai instead, shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, idiot."
Fai blinked sleepily, mumbling in his crazy native language as his fingers closed around Kurogane's hand. Kurogane almost started in surprise before he understood Fai wanted a hand up. He quickly hauled Fai to his feet, and then disdainfully picked the coat off the mage, using only his thumb and index finger. Kurogane handed the coat to the soldier, restraining his urge to toss it into his face.
"He can keep it until tomorrow. He gets cold easily, you know." The soldier held the coat out. A seemingly friendly gesture which Kurogane recognized for the challenge it was.
"He's fine," Kurogane replied curtly, turning to leave. As if he wanted to argue about idiot mages with idiot soldiers, who ought to be minding their own business instead of draping their smelly coats over unsuspecting, innocent nappers. He'd have to keep an eye on that bastard. Machida, wasn't it?
The path back to their tent was poorly lit and overgrown with stringy vegetation with curling loops that made them rather effective foot nooses, so Kurogane forced himself to slow his pace. At night, Fai couldn't see as half as well as he could. Still, Fai lagged behind, the sound of his footsteps slow and ponderous. "You stayed up too late again, didn't you?" Kurogane accused softly.
"Mmphf."
The ninja rolled his eyes. Fai had developed the bad habit of reviewing his Japanese notes late into the night, even though he knew they had to wake up early in order to use the practice fields. He still carried on as usual (the "usual" involving hard training punctuated by occasional pranks and long-winded stories.) Consequently, he'd become prone to sudden bouts of fatigue. Stupid mage, Kurogane thought, but he was unable to quell a twinge of pride at his pupil's dedication.
Fai stumbled. Kurogane's arm shot out reflexively and he grabbed Fai by the elbow.
Fai offered him an apologetic smile as he pulled his foot free from some vines. "Kuro-kin, go." He waved his hand in the direction of their tent. "I'm too slow."
"Don't be such a dumbass. You'll wake me up whenever you do finally get back and let cold air into the tent." Kurogane tugged on Fai's elbow, pulling the mage close enough to place his hands around the smaller man's waist.
"Oh!" Fai exclaimed in surprise as he was hoisted up over Kurogane's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, legs in front, torso in back. Kurogane ignored him and continued down the path at his usual quick pace, mostly unencumbered by Fai's weight. The ninja thought about how his hands had neatly encircled the mage's waist, and he wondered if they made all men long and skinny in Celes, or if Fai stood out there as much as he would in Japan. He could feel Fai's ribcage rubbing against his back.
"Kuro-pon's nice," Fai said quietly, then his muscles went slack as he drifted off to sleep again.
Stupid mage, he's just like a little brat. Back in Japan, he would carry Tomoyo when she was fatigued after a long day of holding court in Kendappa's absence. Those elaborate, multi-layered robes her office demanded were heavy and difficult to maneuver in, especially for a girl with such a small frame. As the princess had aged, however, she'd started to protest when he insisted on carrying her in his arms. I'm not little anymore, she reprimanded him gently, but he always pretended not to hear her and she always sighed dramatically before curling her arms around his neck. Sometimes she would press her nose to his neck, close enough for Kurogane to smell the perfume she wore. It smelled like water lilies, Kurogane recalled suddenly with a pang of homesickness.
Fai didn't smell like water lilies; he smelled of sweat and wine. And his clothes weren't embroidered silk but that increasingly threadbare Sharano outfit. He couldn't compare the softness of Fai's nose against his neck to Tomoyo's, though, since he wasn't carrying the mage in his arms.
...not that he wanted to, under any circumstance. Carrying Fai was for convenience's sake. Just like teaching him Japanese and swordplay and how not to be quite so annoying. (He was failing hideously on that last point.)
Back at the tent, Kurogane plopped Fai onto his stack of blankets. Fai rolled over on his stomach but didn't get up to put on his bedclothes or burrow under the blankets as usual. Kurogane glared at him, willing him to move, but the mage remained perversely immobile.
With a huff, Kurogane grabbed a spare blanket and arranged it over the mage, tucking it under his arms and bony hips. Only because he didn't want to hear any whining about drafts in the tent when he was trying to sleep. Next he quickly stripped his sweaty clothes off and tossed them into a heap, then pulled on a pair of pants before collapsing into his own mess of blankets.
Kurogane drifted to sleep with thoughts of water lilies and skinny arms in his mind.
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