Chapter 20

Vitality

"That's my favorite thing about you, I think."

Aya looked up, surprised at the sudden voice, and Yohji smiled. He always smiled when he managed to get any kind of response out of his normally blank-faced lover, and freely admitted the extreme joy it gave him.

Dressed, not in the Krittiker-supplied period costumes bit in the pants and midriff-bearing top he favored for missions, the blonde was leaning against the doorframe of the dojo with his arms crossed. The light of the setting sun lit him from behind, making his golden hair a halo around his face, and hiding the dark bruising on his face in shadow.

"What is?" Aya asked quietly. "The fact that I know how to clean blood off of floor mats?"

Yohji's smile became a grin.

"Sorry. I forgot to say the first part out loud."

Aya gave him a flat, annoyed look. "You're an idiot sometimes, Yohji," he said, "But not that much of an idiot."

The grin widened. Only Yohji, with his beautiful vibrancy, could grin like that after the day they'd just had.

"I meant that one of my favorite things about you is the fact that you don't hesitate."

Aya raised an eyebrow in question.

Yohji sauntered the rest of the way into the dojo, sitting down cross-legged beside Aya.

"I was thinking about that Esset bastard," he explained softly. "How you killed him…I don't think Omi or Ken…or hell, even me would have been able to attack the very moment we were freed. You must have been straining…fighting…the entire time. Then, that split-second and you're ready to strike. One slash and he's dead. I dunno…" he reached out and casually brushed a knuckle against Aya's cheek. "I guess I'm impressed."

Aya looked away with a frown.

"Sorry," Yohji dropped his hand. "Too soon? I guess…after the shit that fucktard said…"

"I don't care about that," Aya said dismissively.

"Really? Sure bothered the hell out of me."

"You really think that it was the first time someone who thought he was stronger threatened me that way?" he snorted.

"You're saying…you're used to that kind of thing?"

Aya grabbed up the rag he'd been using and began scrubbing at the floor mats again. His movements were almost violent.

"Aya…" Yohji's voice was hushed. "No one's ever…?"

"No," he snapped quickly. "I've killed everyone who's tried."

"Well, you really don't act like anyone's managed to force you before, but…" Yohji's voice still sounded relieved. "Despite how gorgeous you are, I never even thought about someone trying…shit. Now I'm gonna think about this all night."

"Were you more worried for me than you were for yourself?"

"Well…yeah. I guess I was."

Aya sighed.

"Not that I was getting all overprotective or anything!"

"Kudoh…shut up." Aya sat back on his heels and forced himself to look at his lover. The man was watching him with a small frown on his face – a frown which only deepened when Aya reached out to touch said face.

The small redhead ignored the expression.

"Who did your stitches?"

"Kenshin. His hand's a hell of a lot steadier than Omi's, I'll tell you that," the frown was replaced by a playful smile as he leaned into Aya's touch. "Come on, I look cute when I get to play all tough, don't I?"

Aya gave a small, reluctant laugh.

"You know you're breaking orders by wearing that."

Yohji's hand covered Aya's, holding it in place as he rubbed his face against it like a contented cat.

"It was Omi's idea – as long as we stay on the Kamiya property, that is. We should be dressed comfortably in case of attack. He's…probably still trying to explain everything to Kenshin and Kaoru."

"Are either of them meeting anyone's eyes yet?"

"Nope!" Yohji chuckled, turning his head to press a kiss into Aya's palm. "Barely talking, too. You might have been the one to strike the fatal blow, but clearly we're all to blame for breaking the golden rule."

Aya sighed and tried to retrieve his hand, but Yohji refused to release him.

"It kind of feels like we're holding them hostage or something," the blonde shrugged. "But it's okay. Their lives will go back to normal once we leave, as long as we keep everyone safe."

Aya nodded, reluctantly admitting that Yohji was right.

The blonde rose, using his hold on Aya's hand to pull him to his feet.

"Let's take a walk," he suggested. "Some fresh air will make you feel better – I promise."

"I doubt that, but I'll go anyway."

Yohji grinned broadly at him, seemingly thrilled beyond compare when Aya mildly accepted his arm around his shoulders.

"You want to change into some normal clothes?"

"Not right now," he shifted closer to his lover's side, pulling his arm more securely around himself. Despite all of his fighting it and all of his better judgment, Yohji's presence in his life had begun to become a source of comfort no matter what the circumstances. Had he once really wanted to keep it purely physical? When Yohji was so wonderful at pulling him out of his habitual loop of self-torture?

"But you'll change later, right?"

"What does it matter?"

Yohji grinned broadly. "Those bitch boots you wear on missions…"

"Oh."

"I'm just saying…"

"You'd better not."

"Yum."

Despite himself, Aya laughed. Yohji pulled him closer, clearly pleased with himself. He looked startled, and a little hurt, when Aya began to pull away, and the smaller man sighed and grabbed his wrist, pulling him along as he changed direction.

"If we're going to walk, we might as well use the opportunity to patrol," he stated.

With exaggerated movements, Yohji 'accidentally' stumbled against him, groping indiscriminately as he 'struggled' to regain his balance. The grin he gave Aya was all the warning he needed to stop the automatic complaint from rising to his lips.

"It is kind of weird, isn't it?" Yohji asked after several moments of silence.

"The fact that I want to make sure we're working while we walk?"

"No."

"Are you going to continue the habit of voicing only the second half of your thoughts? Because it's going to get annoying fast."

"Everything annoys you, baby."

Aya sighed and the blonde laughed, bumping their hips together playfully.

"I was thinking that we're kind of weird. Together."

"You're the weird one, Yohji."

"Maybe it is just me…but I figure I gotta find some way to blame you too."

The idea had caught Yohji's attention. Aya realized that the blonde was wanting to talk about it – which meant he'd probably been thinking about it for a while.

He bumped Yohji's hip back, giving him permission to continue.

"I'm sure you've noticed – I can't keep my hands off you."

"You're a pervert. Such behavior is to be expected."

"No, I mean…it's not like I walk around with a habitual boner all the time."

"You don't?"

He ignored the question. "If you're around, then I want to be touching you. Like you're a drug or something, and I'm addicted…" he sighed and tilted his head back, eyes scanning the skies for the night's first stars. "And most of the time I'm not even thinking about sex. At least, not at first. Fuck…I probably shouldn't tell you this."

"It's the draw," Aya said softly.

Yohji looked at him in surprise. "Hm?"

He shrugged, already uncomfortable with the conversation. "Remember when you said that we were 'lucky' the sex had been good? It's the same thing…whatever it is…that makes you want to touch me, or makes me want to have you near when I feel myself getting lost…"

"So…what? Charisma? Attraction? You're not going to blame something stupid like fate."

"No, of course not. I don't believe in it."

They were silent for several moments, walking slowly. This time Yohji didn't protest when Aya quietly pulled away.

The truth that he couldn't voice was that Aya understood the source of their passion, their familiarity, and the unexplained draw, attraction, or addiction which caused it all.

He and Yohji were simply a good match. They were the correct 'type' for each other. Yohji possessed the light and life, the vibrancy, the energy, the laughter and the heart that Aya lacked. Aya had no idea what a person like the magnetic blonde could possibly get from him in return, but he was sure that it had to be something or else the playboy would have long since grown tired of their arrangement.

Yohji just happened to be exactly what Aya needed, and somehow, even though he couldn't understand it, Aya fulfilled whatever it was Yohji needed.

Aya couldn't voice that, though. Out loud, it would sound like something it definitely was not. If he told Yohji what he thought, the blonde would think he loved him.

"I think it's good for me," Aya stated at last. He crossed his arms, partly to replace the warmth of his lover, and partly to keep from reaching for the man. "I suppose…I suppose I should thank you."

"You're gonna piss me off if you talk about this like it's some damn business contract."

"That's not what I mean." Aya quickened his pace to pass Yohji. He was afraid, suddenly, of how much he wanted to reach for him. Thinking about it was making him aware – for the first time, really aware – of how often lately he found himself wanting Yohji. He didn't simply want him for the sharp, muscled planes, the heat, the powerful motions of his body, although at first that had been what drew them together. What he most longed for were these long, peaceful silences, the gentle kisses at his forehead when the blonde thought he was asleep, the blunt, honest conversation, and the unexplainable comfort of his strong, steady arms.

Those arms wrapped around him now from behind. Yohji molded himself to Aya's back, pressing close, in something that was half embrace, half sexual position.

"It really drives me crazy when you fight the urge to be a sweetheart, sweetheart," the blonde muttered, hooking his chin over his shoulder and turning his head just right to press his lips to his neck. "I can't decide if it's adorable or if it's hot. Can something be cute and sexy at the same time?"

Aya closed his eyes. "I'm not sweet or cute," he said, having to fight to sound gruff. "And the fact anyone but a lunatic would find me desirable is simply…"

Yohji groaned playfully. "Don't stop! I love your blind self-deprecation!"

"Kudoh…" he warned.

The blonde fell silent for a moment, then he tightened his arms.\\

"It's okay to like me, Aya," he said softly. "And it's okay if you don't spend every second hating yourself. It's okay if you don't immediately doubt or argue with me when I tell you you're beautiful. It's okay for you to accept the way I see you…even let it heal you a little…even enjoy it…"

"Kudoh…"

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my entire life and you can't even accept a damned compliment." Yohji didn't sound angry, only protective. Sad. "I know you've been hurt, baby, and I know that you've come to see yourself as some kind of monster – but you're a victim, Aya."

"Stop it," he ordered softly.

"Aya…"

"Don't be so nice to me. I don't like it."

"Aya…" he tightened his hold on him even further, resting his forehead against his shoulder. "Is it really such a sin…if I'm falling in love with you?"

Aya had been still and silent for several moments now. Yohji, expecting anger, or even violence, wasn't sure what that silence meant.

He pressed his lips to Aya's neck and felt his pulse, his heartbeat pounding as wildly and as quickly as a frightened animal's.

He slid his hand up and under the loose collar of his shirt, resting his palm against the bare skin of his chest, directly over his heart.

He hadn't meant to say the words that had just come out of his mouth. He hadn't been aware of the feelings that had been driving him to distraction until he'd voiced them. He'd known he felt something, but hadn't tried to analyze it.

But he was. He was falling in love with Aya.

This wasn't the love he felt in the heat of passion, when his mind had managed to transform the face of his lover into Asuka. He had never seen Asuka while buried inside Aya – the man's gender, as well as his drastically different looks and personality, being more than enough to prevent the illusion. Each time he slept with Aya, it had only been Aya, and not Asuka, in his arms.

Without illusions of the woman he had loved to bias him, he had come to know each exquisite plane of his lover's body – the taste of his skin, the strength of him limbs, the scent of his hair. He hadn't been able to sabotage himself by comparing Aya and Asuka because there simply was no compare. There was Askua, and there was Aya – two people, two lovers, and no possibility of merging them in his mind.

And Aya was…amazing. Yohji was in awe of his stubborn strength – even when the man used that strength to torture himself – every bit as much as he was awed by his surprising tenderness. When Aya's defenses fell away he was…impossibly soft, endearingly vulnerable, amazingly trusting and honest and passionate.

Aya was…dear to him. Important…so important.

Yohji cursed the time that had been wasted before they became lovers because that was time – days, weeks, months – in which he had looked at Aya and not even come close to actually seeing him.

"Falling?" Aya whispered at last.

"Hard and fast," Yohji confessed.

The small man in his arms sighed.

"So?" Yohji forced himself to ask at last. He wondered if Aya would run if he released him, or attack. Aya had made it clear many times that he did not want Yohji to care about him.

"Okay," the redhead said at last.

Yohji lifted his head. "Okay?" he repeated. "You…you're not gonna get mad, pitch a fit, attempt to eviscerate me?"

"Well, it's already done now, isn't it?" the small man demanded crossly.

"Yeah, but you're hardly the type to give up just because it's too late."

"Do you want me to get mad?"

"Not at all." Yohji began to nuzzle his neck again. "In fact," he said, sliding his hands down Aya's body. "I want you to let me love you…" his hands grasped Aya's hips and pulled him back even more tightly against him, turning his head to nip at his earlobe. "Let me love you," he whispered.

Aya shivered.

"Out here?"

"It's dark," he pointed out, already working to untie the belt sash around his lover's slim waist. "And everyone's busy explaining confusing shit. We're alone…and I want to show you my love…"

Aya gave a quiet gasp as Yohji finally managed to get one hand under his clothes.

"Or we could go inside, I guess," the blonde teased, beginning to draw his hand away.

Aya's hand clamped down on his arm and he shook his head. "No…this is fine…" he managed with difficulty.

"Ah, we've never done this before, have we? Outside?" and Aya liked it when Yohji surprised him with something new. "How the hell do I get you out of these clothes?"

"Nnh…figure it out, damn it!"

"Oro…perhaps this one should return later?"

Yohji jumped, turning quickly. Kenshin stood just a few feet away, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed, and Yohji, frustrated, wondered why the hell the man hadn't just turned around and walked the other way – he was sure he and Aya would never have noticed him had he not said anything.

Reluctantly, grudgingly, Yohji pulled his hands out of Kenshin's descendant's clothing.

"Well," Crawford sounded far too pleased with himself as he lay down his hand of cards. "I do believe I've won, old friend."

Hollister glared for a long moment before rising and storming out of the room. Nagi watched him go before taking the seat he had vacated and turning over the cards the blonde man had thrown down.

"His hand was better."

Schuldig, busy keeping Farfarello entertained with their own special version of the game 'hangman', burst into sudden laughter.

"So cute, Nagikins!" he cheered.

Crawford chuckled and took the cards, shuffling them slowly.

"Schuldig, I think it's time you put Farfarello to bed," he said, voice full of amusement. "He's going to have a big day tomorrow."

"You heard Vater, Farfie," the telepath said, as if coaxing a small child. "Santa won't come unless you're in bed."

"Man!" Yohji said with a heavy sigh. "What a way to harsh a boner!"

Aya glared and snatched away his carton of cigarettes when he took them out to light one. "Go inside," he ordered.

"Sending me to bed like a naughty child?"

"Kudoh!"

The blonde set his jaw stubbornly, but then something seemed to change his mind. With a sigh, he nodded and held out his hand.

"My cigs?"

He gave them to him, and found himself wishing his lover had put up more of a fight about being interrupted because now there was nothing to keep him from having to turn to meet Kenshin's dark, disapproving gaze.

It didn't matter that he barely knew the man – it might as well have been Aya's sister who had caught him in the act of murder.

The way the man was looking at him now – that sad, regretful, almost tender look – told him that Omi had already taken the liberty of informing him of their familial ties.

Aya raised his chin and glared, silently daring him to pretend that any of that mattered. Kenshin's eyes grew sadder, but he did not look away.

"This one truly did not intend to intrude on a private moment."

"It was private." Aya stated, wondering if the man was going to have a problem with that relationship in addition to the killing. Suddenly he wished he hadn't made Yohji leave.

"This one merely wished to speak with you…and was fearful that if he waited until tomorrow…"

"Cut the 'this one' bullshit," he snapped.

Kenshin fell silent, simply looking at him with those soft, sad eyes. "What do you fight for?" he asked at last.

"Didn't Omi already tell you everything?"

"So much anger…"

"I've earned the right to my anger!"

Kenshin finally broke eye contact, lowering his head, and suddenly Aya found himself staring at the faded cross-shaped scar on the man's cheek and remembering the strange, reverse blade sword he'd used trying to stop Aya from taking life.

And suddenly he almost felt like apologizing for snapping at him.

"We wanted to change our world with our swords," Kenshin said softly. "But you don't really believe you're ridding the world of evil, do you?"

"No."

"Perhaps that is better," he sighed. "Perhaps our foolish ideals are what made us the most dangerous. Perhaps there would have been less pain had we been capable of looking at our deeds honestly. You seem to know already what you have sacrificed by bloodying your hands."

"Yes. I know."

He looked at him again, his smile sad. "You are very different from this one…yet in some ways nearly the same as this one once was. You feel nothing when you kill, correct?"

Aya could only bring himself to nod once, briskly. He lamented the loss of his innocence and regretted the face that, by committing murder, he had lost the right to ever again see his sister's smile, even if she ever woke. He knew in a detached, academic sort of way that what he was doing was monstrous and wrong and it was that knowledge that tortured him.

"It is because you have yet to have killed an innocent. You can't feel regret when you believe that the victim somehow deserves his fate. You do not feel either above or below them, but simply equal to – and thus a rightful messenger of death."

"Perhaps," Aya acknowledged grudgingly.

Kenshin gave a thoughtful nod.

"This one does not have the right to try to stop you, much as he would like to," he said at last. "This one…I…I cannot prevent you from making the same mistakes I have."

"So. That wasn't always a reverse blade," he said, nodding toward the sword at his ancestor's hip. "Was it?"

"I was a hitokiri during the war," he nodded. "An assassin much like you and your friends."

"What made you stop?"

He looked away and was silent for several long moments. "When we live our lives entrenched in blood and darkness, we begin to grow blind to the world around us," he answered at last. "Because of this, one precious to me fell to my blade."

"You…"

"The futures of people like us are limited. They become corrupt, they die, or…a few, very fortunate ones…find a way to find peace. I never thought the last would be my fate…I certainly have done nothing in my life to earn the joy which I have found in this place." Kenshin's gaze returned to him and he smiled gently. "If there is one thing, though…I would like to warn you…"

"Fine."

"If you have the misfortune of continuing in this occupation, then there is always the likelihood that one day you, too, will find yourself responsible for the lost life of one who you cherish above all else."

"And if that happens?" he asked, ignoring the cold shiver that suddenly ran down his bacl.

Kenshin met his eyes unflinchingly.

"The only atonement…the only justice…the only possible way to repay the innocent life you have taken – as well as the non-innocent who will haunt you forever after that dreadful day…the only thing to do will be to live."

tbc

Kenshin was married once before Kaoru. His first wife is the reason he doesn't kill anymore. It's a very sad and very beautiful story, but a little too complicated to go into detail with here. I'm willing to try, though, if anyone thinks it's absolutly necessary.

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

Caitlebug - well, consider it your punishment for being gone so long! (teasing) I'm glad you got so excited - I hope the chapter was satisfacotry.

CaT70 - Yes, there are always exceptions. But the rule holds true so often that it's funny. (grins)

glinwulf - lol, thanks. It's a theory a friend and I were working on...