Demon
Chapter 21
It is a brave man who promises to love forever.
"Come on!" Mitsui ran into the trees, the hem of his travel cloak flapping.
It was a dream, Rukawa was almost sure. A familiar one.
Rukawa followed without comment, biting back his exhaustion. His feet felt leaden. His mind even more so. They'd been traveling for weeks. It was the same routine they'd kept for years. The comfort of failing. They'd always failed.
They would keep ahead of the gate. Anticipate its next place of opening, linger there until it opened, and then closed, and then move on to the next before it could cycle back into life. Five gates, and the two of them had criss-crossed the continents of this world more times than either could count.
Had he liked it better? When things had been hopeless and predictable?
At that moment, he really didn't feel like running. The soles of his feet ached. Thousands of miles were pressed into his heels. Still, he picked up his pace as Mitsui began to pull away ahead of him, weaving between the trees.
The blood dried in his hair was a week old. He felt dirty and sore. He'd been thinking of nothing but the bath at Yoku for three days straight, eager to sink into the hot water and hide in the steam, his failures soothed by the heat.
Returning to Yoku was always a conflict of emotions for him. But the bath - he did so like the bath.
He ducked as the low branches of the trees obstructed his path, his feet turning stones and sticks as he ran.
Thankfully his wounds had healed by now. Yet their most recent defeat still replayed in his mind every night. They'd been toyed with. Sakuragi was stronger every time. Everything seemed futile.
Had he ever really expected to win?
Hadn't he been, in some twisted and miserable way, content? He could have stayed numb and dead forever.
Fuck him. Fuck him.
He forced his feet to go faster to keep up with Mitsui, the sense needling him with every step, smelling smoke on the breeze.
Changing the world.
No, he didn't want to be here. And yet Rukawa pushed all thoughts of tiredness to the back of his mind and forced himself to concentrate on what was ahead. He could taste them on his tongue. Ash and black blood. A prickle up his spine. His sword whispering in his ear. The comfort that came with leaving himself behind.
Kaede's eyes opened very slowly, dreams of the past spiralling away. Above him he saw unfamiliar rafters, dark in the closing of the day. Yoku. Yet it was not his usual room. Half the house, he recalled, was gone. Blown away by the gate.
He lay still, not really thinking. Exhaustion had entombed him and his limbs felt heavy and stiff. Something in his chest hurt.
Sakuragi is dead.
He breathed slowly, letting the strange fluttering of anxiety move through him.
Sakuragi is dead, but...
Something was wrong. Something...
There was the quiet sound of movement nearby. A minute rustle of clothes. Something was set down. Someone was there.
His heart leapt and he lifted his head.
Akira?
But it was Kogure's warm eyes that met his.
"Oh, you're awake?" Kogure sent Rukawa a reassuring smile, but he looked tired. "How do you feel?"
Rukawa dropped his head back down to the pillow.
Not Akira...
He had known that. Still he... had hoped.
Kogure came closer, kneeling beside the futon, putting one hand against Rukawa's forehead to feel his temperature. Then his hands went and pressed down on something at Rukawa's side.
"Does that hurt?"
"No."
Kogure gave a relieved smile, and began unwinding the splint from the top of the wing.
Rukawa kept his eyes on the rafters above. He didn't want to look and see. He didn't want to know.
"How long has it been?" he managed to rasp.
"Three days," Kogure replied, maintaining his aura of casualness, although Rukawa could hear the worry lingering just beneath his surface.
Sakuragi is dead, but...
Rukawa swallowed. "Have you seen him?"
Kogure licked his lips before admitting, "No." He pretended to concentrate hard on removing the splint, but his eyes moved compulsively to the further side of the room. Kogure had never been any good at hiding things.
Rukawa let his head fall to the side to see Akira laying on the tatami under the window. Innocence lay right beside her.
Two swords. Both his.
Akira had left the sword behind. Thinking of it made it sting all over again. A nasty little pain, right behind his eyes.
He could recall only a few minutes following the fight, after his knees had given out and he'd sunk to the floor next to Sakuragi's body.
He could recall how Sendoh had stood there, saying nothing, watching the demon slowly fading away like it wasn't real. Nothing had seemed real. Were they been meant to feel happy? Relieved? Rukawa hadn't known. What to think. What to say. The terror, the pain, the intensity, had wiped them both empty.
Sendoh had looked down at the sword in his hand like he couldn't recognise it.
What were they? What should they do?
What was left?
What was... real?
And Sendoh had looked so tired.
"Kaede, I..." he'd obviously been troubled. He'd had to take a deep breath to say it. As if it had hurt him, too. "Kaede, I have to go. I... I need to... go."
Rukawa hadn't been able to speak.
Sendoh had placed Innocence down on the veranda while Rukawa had been capable of nothing except kneeling in the dirt and watching him leave.
Why hadn't he said anything? Why had he not been able to think of anything to say?
Stay with me. Please. I'm sorry. I love you.
But what would be the point of honesty of the back of so many lies? Why should he expect Akira to pick through so much rottenness to find that one grain of truth?
It was selfish. Stupid. If there was any truth, it was that Rukawa had never deserved him in the first place.
"I'll come back," Sendoh had promised him, though Rukawa had had a hard time believing it. "Once I've... I just... need to think…" he'd trailed off, straightened, and gazed at Rukawa directly. "Promise me you won't follow."
Rukawa's eyes had widened. He'd understood at once what Sendoh was asking for; his freedom.
"Promise me," Sendoh had insisted.
Rukawa had dropped his head in agreement. Had there been any choice? He'd had to, hadn't he? He'd had to... let him go.
But I... I love you. I love you. I-
Please please don't go.
Stupid. Stupid to hope. Stupid for not even trying.
Sendoh had vanished between the trees, moving beyond Rukawa's reach and Rukawa had felt unmoored. Dizzy and anxious. But he hadn't moved. Somehow he'd been strong enough to accept it. Or perhaps so weak he could not even think to pursue him.
He had surrendered. To Akira's will. That was all. What else could he have done?
Nothing, he thought a little bitterly. Nothing.
He'd somehow managed to stay conscious, staring at the oppressive trees until Kiminobu had found him there. And that was how he'd come to gaze up at Kiminobu from the futon now, not knowing. Not knowing the hows or the whys or what would happen and how he could possibly bear it. And Kiminobu had no words of comfort for him, only an expression of sad resignation.
"Hisashi is out looking for him," Kogure offered after a short silence.
Rukawa closed his eyes and gave a small shake of his head. "He doesn't need to do that," he managed to say. "I'll find him."
"You will?"
Of course I will.
What am I - if not that?
What value do I have except as his shadow? Existing only in his light.
"Yes," he confirmed quietly.
"Ah. Well, about that..." Kogure began nervously, and Rukawa looked over at him. Now what?
"The break has healed but, Kaede I don't know what to do about..." Kogure trailed off and gestured unhappily.
Rukawa forced himself to look. He half expected to see blackness. The familiar shape of his own ugliness. He'd been a demon for so much longer than he'd ever been anything else. It seemed fitting, somehow. He almost preferred it. Could hide behind it. Could use it as an excuse to be angry and furious and cold.
And yet instead he saw an expanse of soft whiteness.
He was a little surprised. For a short moment, he felt unexpected relief. But then his eyes focused on the damage. The two gaping holes the gate had punched right through. They were like two wide eyes with lashes of white feathers. Two staring eyes unblinking.
Rukawa let out his breath slowly. He didn't feel any compulsion to test them. He knew it with perfect clarity that these wings would never fly.
Well. It doesn't matter, he instructed himself firmly, tensing his fists. I will just... find him on foot.
The whole place was burning to the ground. Smoke rose like illuminated pillars in the dark. There was movement. Pulsing chaos and noise. The sounds of terror. Mitsui ignored it all, his eyes alight with excitement despite his tiredness.
He stepped over the decapitated body of a women in the centre of the market square, ignoring the pool of red blood and her glassy eyes that seemed to follow them. He was heedless to the human suffering all around. Instead his whole body was filled with the thrill. The anticipation of the hunt. A terrible kind of hunger.
Rukawa followed him.
Eight, he guessed. Eight demons. And such chaos. An entire village had fallen to the marauding of only eight demons?
He set his tongue against his teeth in disdain. How could mortals be so weak?
Mitsui turned his head, taking notice of the place. "There's more away to the south," he said.
Rukawa lifted his head, almost as if he could scent the air, to confirm Mitsui's deduction.
"Can you handle the ones in town?" Mitsui asked him.
Rukawa scoffed quietly and drew his sword. Innocence shone in the firelight. He hadn't killed since they'd begun their journey, and the bloodlust came over him then. Slaughtering weaklings might be a poor commiseration, but a demon was a demon. Perhaps this would take the edge off his frustration.
"Does this place - seem..." Mitsui commented, squinting around, "-familiar to you?"
Rukawa ignored the question, disinterested, turning his attention instead to what needed to be done. Twisting his consciousness through the air, measuring the distances, bringing his blade around to his will.
Mitsui shrugged and was already moving away. "Meet you back at Yoku?" he suggested finally, as he vanished into smoke and ash.
Rukawa nodded distractedly, turning about, intent on nothing except the nearest prey.
It was easy. Miserable and pointless. They did not know what had come upon them before they died. He stalked through the village, taking out his frustration on one demon after another. And with every severed neck that spewed black blood, the possibility of defeating Sakuragi Hanamichi seemed to taunt him louder and louder. Was this his worth? Only this?
No wonder Sakuragi mocked him.
After clearing out the centre, he turned his feet southwards, intending to follow Mitsui towards the fields. But as he passed the last house, the swirl of sense kicked up again in his gut and he lifted his eyes.
The recognition hit him soundly then, like a physical blow that sent him stumbling sideways, his eyes widening. His gaze moved back and forth, looking across the narrow street between the houses, the sickness rapidly rising, his pupils dilating.
He knew this place.
He knew it.
He knew it.
His legs turned weak, so that he was forced to stagger into a wall to support his own weight. Above him, the wooden rafters were all ablaze, the air thick with smoke.
He'd screamed here. Here, on the ground. He'd begged. His voice had echoed weakly off these walls. Curled in exhaustion and terror he'd set his eyes on Sakuragi Hanamichi and known - as sure as anything - that death would be better than what was to come to him next.
Here.
It had been… right here.
The village had been smaller back then, but there was no mistake. This was where whatever light he had once carried had been extinguished.
He realised couldn't breathe. His hands went up to claw at his throat, gasping between his fingers.
He should have died.
The sense lurched in his stomach yet again, stronger this time, and his eyes lifted to the burning doorway nearby. He was half blinded by tears and soot, but he was furious. Furious to be alive. Breathing. Sakuragi should have killed him. If he'd had any mercy he would have killed him.
Why had death not come to him? Why had he been forced to continue? Why was he - here now? How had he come here-?
Anything was better than this.
God, this... this pain.
The sense was a knife between his eyes.
Ash and black blood and Innocence singing madness in his hand.
He didn't remember crossing the threshold, his mind red with bloodlust. The demons inside did not hear him. It was efficient and unsatisfying. He merely came up behind them, and ended them.
The sense burned on like some terrible monster dancing among the crumbling structures of his mind. He was like a wounded animal, desperate to lash out. He gripped Innocence tightly, and snarled.
His eyes fell upon the boy kneeling in the smoke.
He lifted his sword automatically, still caught within the fog of his tormented mind.
He was not aware of the fire, of the ash in the air, of the slaughtered village, the blood that ran red and black across the floor.
Rukawa grit his teeth, fighting against the pain. The demons were gone but the sense didn't want to let him go. Or perhaps it wasn't the sense. His own mind seemed to be turning on him.
He gripped Innocence tighter, preparing to swing.
The boy looked up at him. Their eyes met. And Rukawa froze cold in the midst of the flames.
The boy was kneeing among the dismembered bodies of his family, his knees soaked in the blood. Just a child. His arms were around himself, comforting, rocking, his eyes staring at him, wide and blank.
Monster - monster - madness - blood.
The chanting of his mind urged him on.
But this thing he was seeing.
Aphesis.
That was what they called it.
The moment when the whole world changed. When the old self died and the new self began. The birth of a slayer.
For the first time in his life he was seeing it happen to someone else.
He felt himself pulled back from the brink of his own madness by the look in those eyes.
Rukawa's aphesis had been here. In this village. This alley. Outside this burning house. But to see fate move again in the same place… it was cruel.
Monster - monster - his mind still echoed faintly, reminding him, tempting him.
With his eyes fixed on the fledgling slayer he lifted his sword once again, determined to bring it down.
Saving this boy now would only condemn him to worse. Rukawa knew what path lay ahead of him. It would be more merciful to let him die. Just another body in the smoke and the flames. A story untold.
He grit his teeth, tensed his muscles, ready to let Innocence fly.
Angel of death.
Demon. Monster.
The only Mercy is death.
He swallowed, suddenly feeling sick.
His blade did not move.
Driven by something he'd almost forgotten, something he did not dare to examine too closely, he caught the small hand and dragged him out of the house. Away from the flames and the blood.
Certainly it was not morality. One mortal life was not worth much.
He never did really understand. All those things that he knew to be true seemed difficult to grasp in that moment.
Looking at the boy all he could think was: You will wish for a death a thousand times. Every day. Every day of your life you will wish you had died here. Just as I do.
Still now he did not know if it was mercy or cruelty that made him do it.
Myagi was just finishing up with his books for the day when a loud knock echoed through his room.
"All right! All right!" he called as the knocking persisted. "I'm coming, I'm coming-!"
He stared in amazement as he opened the door. "Akira?" He blinked, taking in the state of the young man on his doorstep. His eyes moved rapidly over the blood that was caked over Sendoh's left hand which itself was cradling his broken right arm. "What the hell happened to you?" he spluttered.
Sendoh gave him a sheepish look. "Do you know anything about setting bones?"
Myagi pushed the door wide. "Come in," he said in disbelief. "Holy hell you're a fucking mess. What happened? Where's your sword?"
"I, uh-" Sendoh had entered the small room gratefully. "I guess I... got into a fight."
"You don't say," Myagi rolled his eyes and ushered him in.
Sendoh stumbled a little, unsteady. He was obviously exhausted. His whole body tilted alarmingly to the side and Myagi had to step forward to catch him before he fell.
"You can tell me about it later." Myagi muttered, shaking his head and guiding Sendoh to a seat. "Wait here. Let's try to fix you up."
Myagi did his best to splint Sendoh's right arm and cleaned up the shattered fingers on his left as best he could.
After that he had made Sendoh a place to sleep on the floor and provided him with clean clothes, whilst Sendoh cleaned off the rest of the blood with a rag and a basin of lukewarm water.
I'm alive, Sendoh thought to himself, half disbelieving. How could it be...? That he had survived, once again? He. Who had been waiting his whole life for the chance to die.
The memory of the sword entering his body, piercing his heart, replayed in his mind. Looping continuously for hours and hours. He felt wholly strange. Unknown to himself. He wondered if perhaps he were in fact dead, and was now merely a soul wandering unbound, angry and haunting.
Yet despite all his wildest imaginings, he was so exhausted that he soon collapsed into a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep.
"So-" Myagi asked, leaning forward to stir the thin soup rice that was bubbling over the crackling fire, "When do I get to hear an explanation?"
He was wearing the plain, moss-green jinbei that he preferred to wear at home. He knocked the wooden spoon against the edge of the iron pot three times with a loud ring, and sent Sendoh a look.
Sendoh paused where he knelt on the tatami, one arm out of his kimono sleeve inspecting his bandaged arm, the light of the flames casting shadows. "Oh…"
It was a couple of days later. Sendoh had slept almost solidly during that time on a futon beside the fire. Now, Myagi was staring at him in curiosity. "You show up out of the blue. Sword gone. Looking like you've been in a war. You owe me details, my friend."
Sendoh winced a little. "It's a long story," he muttered evasively.
Myagi spread his hands. "I've got plenty of time."
Sendoh considered, slowly pulling his sleeve back up over his shoulder, wincing a little as his wounds stretched with the motion. He had to chew for a moment on the feeling. This thing that was in his chest. Trying to shape it into something that could be spoken aloud.
He'd left Kaede behind to find his own answers. But it wasn't easy to explain.
"Have you ever had the feeling that your life is a lie?" he asked finally.
Myagi looked puzzled.
Sendoh's hands dropped into his lap. The fingers on his left hand were splinted and bandaged, but the rest curled in discomfort, twitching against the cotton. "I thought I knew who I was. But then I found that… things weren't what I thought."
Myagi began to ladle out the rice into wooden bowls. "Okay. Go on."
"I thought I'd done things," Sendoh tried to elaborate. "I thought that I'd survived. That I was... me. But, nothing was real." He winced. "Right now I... don't even know who I am." He shook his head in frustration.
Myagi's expression was sympathetic. "What happened?
Sendoh let out a slow breath, not lifting his eyes. He felt heavy. Like he was sinking through mist and fog, far from land. His body was tired, yes. But it was inside, within the confines of his mind, that he was most struggling. He had always played a part. Worn a mask of competence, calmness, strength. Even in front of Kaede he had always been careful to maintain the illusion, and yet... what was it that he had been trying to hide?
What part of him had he not wanted Kaede to see?
The broken parts. The hurt and blackened bits. And there were so many. There were just so many.
Something inside him shrivelled at the thought. Perhaps there was nothing about him that Kaede didn't already know. But Kaede anchored him to his past. A past he didn't want. But wasn't it selfish to blame him for that? After everything Kaede had done for him?
He looked up at Myagi. Would Myagi believe him? He was reluctant to talk about it, fully conscious of the gulf between himself and, well, normal people.
Plenty believed in demons and devils in this day and age, but most would be more than a little skeptical of Sendoh's story.
Slayers had always been outsiders. Strange, dangerous, violent folk. They were people who saw monsters. They were mad.
But talking it through might help him to get a grasp on it. A way to find himself in the pages of his own story. And wasn't that what he wanted? To understand?
He closed his eyes and took a breath. "Okay. But you're going to think I'm crazy. So please suspend your disbelief. Just until the end."
Myagi looked gratified as he knelt down and passing the steaming bowl to Sendoh. "Not a doubting bone in my body," he promised.
Sendoh didn't believe that, but he took a breath, and wondered where he was supposed to begin.
He explained everything he knew, from the slaughter of his family, awakening to the sense, receiving Innocence, and growing up as a slayer in Anzai's tavern with Ikegami, to meeting Kaede in the chaos of the gate and the deaths of his friends. He described Yoku, tried to describe Mitsui, and explain the two brothers' unnatural skill. He spoke of Sakuragi Hanamichi, his huge marble hall and his velvet throne, his giant blade, his terrible power and the obsession that had tormented him. He described how it had felt to die, pierced by a sword through his heart. He spoke up to the last moment when he'd left Kaede beside Sakuragi's fading body.
He found it cathartic. Myagi listened in fascination. Sendoh felt like a voyeur to his tale, seeing it from the outside for the first time. He tried to describe the intensity of his love for Kaede. How he'd felt some draw or some pull between them, right from the start. He saw the shock on Myagi's face as he explained his actions, the way he'd felt, how he'd intended to give his life in exchange for Kaede's freedom. In the midst of everything, it had never been easy to see the extent of his feelings, caught up in the whirlwind of emotion. But now, as he gave it voice, he became aware that it was powerful.
By the time he finished the whole story, the night had already drawn on, and the room was dark.
Myagi was silent for a moment, then gave a huge aching stretch. "Well, I've gotta admit I thought you were either lying or crazy at the start, " he cast his eyes over Sendoh. "Do you still think it's all a lie?"
"What do you mean?" Sendoh asked blankly.
"You said at the start: you feel like your life has been a lie."
"Oh. But I meant-" Sendoh paused, and frowned. What had he meant? That for every swing he'd ever made, every life and death encounter with demons he'd faced growing up, he'd been sheltered by Kaede all along? That he felt reduced, maybe even embarrassed, by it?
Yes, that was part of his discomfort. But there were... other things. Things more concerning.
"What about the way you feel about him?" Myagi asked curiously. "Is that false too?"
Sendoh visibly hesitated. "I... I don't know," he realised.
"It sounds like you were possessed," Myagi pointed out. "The sword, the connection between the two of you. Seems powerful. Maybe dangerous. How do you know if what you feel is real or whether you're under some kind of spell?"
Sendoh struggled to answer. "I... don't," he admitted. "But... I-"
Myagi waited, but Sendoh trailed off and gazed down at his own hands, his eyes confused and uncertain. Was it… fake? Were his feelings being manipulated? Somehow? By... the sword? Or...?He lifted his hand and tapped his chest, right above his heart, as if he could test its authenticity. He had left him there. He had wanted to get away from it. He had needed to get away.
But he meant to return. He wanted to return. But he also wanted to be able to look Kaede in the eye and offer him more than his confusion. He was afraid of the truth; that he was diminished and irrelevant. And the rest - the rest was still full of shadows. And Kaede... Kaede was the most uncertain thing of all.
What he was. What he is. What he isn't.
Perhaps I... never really knew him at all.
He slowly shook his head.
"It's real," he decided quietly.
There's no place in this world for me except by his side. I... know that. I want that. But even so, I have to come to terms with the fact that his world is boundless and timeless, and mine is narrow, like a cage.
Sendoh sighed. "Kaede is..." he hesitated. "Kaede is..." he tried to explain, but he struggled to find any words at all. What meagre breathes of sound could possibly encompass what Kaede is? Did he even know himself?
I watched him transform, he recalled. I watched him become something divine. And yet he was something monstrous. A thing of death and beauty and distant worlds. A thing I could never hope to possess even if I spent a lifetime loving him.
"Kaede's hurt," he decided finally. "I was just... a bridge. Just a step for him." He furrowed his brow. "He needs better. What I feel is real but... it's not..." he gave a small frown of resignation, "...it's not enough. I'm not enough. I'm not even who I thought I was. I was… just a sword. Nothing more."
Sendoh twisted his fingers around one another in silence, troubled. He had never thought he was so prideful. But this was… difficult.
He would never stop loving him; he knew this to be true. But also he knew that it would hurt. That he could never be able to be with Kaede in the way he ought to be. He would always be something small. Something to disappear with the passing of time. The emotion of a mere moment. Sendoh could give him everything he had - all the years of his life - and it still wouldn't be… enough.
Sendoh wasn't sure how to cope with it.
"Maybe…" he hazarded uncertainly, "…maybe it would be better if… I didn't go back."
Myagi gave a sigh. "It is a brave man who promises to love forever," he agreed. He surveyed him sympathetically.
There was silence. Sendoh looked down at his hands, even more troubled than before.
His life, his whole existence, felt like some tainted falsehood. What did he have to his name? Nothing but a sword. The same one Kaede had given to him. And in all his years he'd managed no more than that. He'd never become anything more than that sword. Nothing more than his pain. He had never grown. Never healed. Without Kaede... what would he be?
He didn't know, he realised. He didn't know a lot of things.
"I… need to go," he said finally. 'There's a place that I think I should see." He got to his feet, and Myagi frowned up at him.
"Uhm-" Sendoh hesitated, then he gave a nod of his head. "Thanks, Ryota. This really helped."
"Just go," Myagi snorted at him with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But come back soon. And next time, bring him with you."
"I'm not sure if-" Sendoh hesitated, "-if he'll still..."
Myagi snorted. "If you still don't believe that he loves you, it just proves that you're an idiot."
It wasn't until later that he began to think about what he'd done. Unwilling to leave the young broken soul standing alone before the bonfire of his home, he had pulled him away, out into the forest, until the ash and the smoke in the air wasn't quite so bad.
He could have gone to find Hisashi. But he knew Hisashi would disapprove. Hisashi never had had any patience or interest in mortals.
Besides, Hisashi was probably right. Mortal slayers were weak. Too frail and short lived. Enslaved by the sense that controlled them, they died like cockroaches.
He looked over again at the child he had saved - although 'saved' hardly seemed the right word for it.
They were resting in a small clearing, perhaps a hundred meters from the road. The boy couldn't go anywhere fast. He was wheezing and coughing, still irritated by the smoke in his lungs. There was red blood flowing from a wound somewhere above his hairline, trickling down the side of his face. He looked wretched.
Perhaps he'll die anyway, Rukawa thought hopefully. But despite all that, the boy seemed to be hanging on and Rukawa was stuck with him. He wasn't sure what to do next.
He observed the child critically. He was sitting exhausted on a fallen tree trunk, his eyes dazed, wheezing noisily. Rukawa wrinkled his nose a little.
How was it, he reflected again, that mortals were so weak?
He knew all the stories. During the days of his apprenticeship he'd been forced to study the histories. It didn't make sense to him that mortals could have defeated the demons in the first wars. Monsters far stronger than Sakuragi Hanamichi had marauded at will in those past ages. And slayers - mortal slayers - had driven them back. How? Had the power of the Watchers really been so great?
He shook his head in disbelief.
Ridiculous.
Look at him. They're weak. All of them. Blind and weak and stupid.
Fated to die.
He began to calculate. The gate cycled into existence once in a generation. That meant that this boy - fledgling slayer that he was - would have at most twenty years to live. Twenty years before the time on his unnaturally extended life would run out. Because when the gate opened, Rukawa knew from repeated experience, every mortal slayer would die.
He sighed and lifted his eyes to the stars.
How had they done it?
The slayers of the past?
Slayers and Watchers?
He frowned. In twenty years time? He contemplated the boy again. He seemed a little younger than ten. In twenty years he would be at the peak of his strength. Assuming he survived that long.
What if...?
The boy would die anyway. That was the truth. So there was no harm in it. He might as well... might as well... try?
Hisashi would not agree to it, Rukawa knew. He could hear his arguments already. Waste of time. Won't work. And without Hisashi's help it would be difficult.
Too difficult?
He considered uncertainly. If he could keep the boy at yoku it would be easier but-
He shook his head. No, Hisashi would not allow that, either.
Rukawa gripped the hilt of Innocence tightly, feeling frustrated and suddenly reckless. He was tired, he realised, of following Hisashi around like a dog. So what if Hisashi was his senior? Was his better? A prodigy of the Sword where Rukawa had been a mere acolyte?
They never took me seriously. The Council feared Hisashi, but they never feared me. They barely even saw me. They assumed Hisashi could control me. That I would follow him blindly, not knowing what else to do.
And so far I guess they've been right.
Rukawa furrowed his brows. He couldn't hide behind Hisashi forever.
He should… do something.
Of his own.
He might even succeed.
Feeling resolved, he got to his feet. The first patter of rain fell from the sky. He ignored it.
He pulled Innocence - sword and sheath - free of his waist and held it out. His hands, he realised, were shaking.
"Take this," he told him.
The child looked confused.
Rukawa forced Innocence into his hand. The boy's small fingers barely closed around her girth. She looked comically large in his grasp. But this way, Rukawa thought, it would be hard to go back. He would not be able to change his mind. He could not let his resolve seep away with time.
And so this was a step. Something done. A promise to himself.
"Her name is Innocence," he said.
The boy only stared blankly down at the sword in his hands. Then he slowly moved one hand and pressed it uncertainly against his stomach.
"It - hurts -" he murmured. More to himself than to Rukawa.
Rukawa did not reply. Getting used to the sense was something that would only come with time.
Instead he stepped forward, and with the sleeve of his kimono, pressed the fabric against the boy's wounded head. He watched as the red blood seeped into the fibres. He stood there, collecting the red liquid until his sleeve was saturated with it. He would need it.
"Come on," he encouraged the boy finally, stepping back, his voice a little rough. "There's a tavern in town. There's still a long way to go."
Sendoh had to ask several people before he managed to find the right way. It had become a legend of sorts. Not that far outside town, but no one went there now. Folk were superstitious, and bad things had happened here.
He had walked forty five minutes down one of the main roads leaving town, and then thirty minutes more along an overgrown trail leading deep into the trees. There, he'd come upon it suddenly: what was once a village. There were ten or fifteen buildings at most, all either burnt out or collapsed into rubble. The remnants of a central square too small to be called a market. Fields on all sides run long and untidy and populated by crows. Young saplings had sprouted in what once had been roads. Grass grew everywhere; out of the base of empty doorframes, around the rotting wheels of an abandoned cart.
There were bones, he noted with a kind of numb attention. Human bones. But they were scattered, and the crows and the rats had picked them clean.
He could barely remember the place at all, but somehow his feet knew the way.
There was a skittering of rodents as he traipsed a pathway towards the south fields. A house had stood here once, but nothing remained now except the stone outline of the foundations. He stood and looked for a long time, uncertain whether this was even the right house. His... home. For the first few years of his life, at least. Happy years, maybe? It was impossible to remember.
Now they were only shapes in the grass. A memory of rooms. Lives. Small human lives and miserable, terrifying deaths.
He stared for a long time.
How strange that in his memory he could only see this house, this one building, burning. Yet looking around now, he could see that he and his family had not been the only victims that night. The entire village had been razed.
He hadn't been back here in sixteen years. Was he... different now?
When he looked back across the years, he wondered what he had to show for himself.
Yes, he was lucky. Very lucky. He knew that.
But even so, luck had not saved his family. Had not spared his friends. Luck had not swung his sword every day, fought demons on his behalf, taken away the sting of his wounds. The hurts and the falls, the nights he'd spent crying, the pangs of hunger and the terror and the fear.
Luck had not been his mother when he was afraid. Had not been his comfort when he was hurt. Nor his companion when he was alone.
Luck had never let him believe - not even an inkling - not even for a moment - that there was such thing as safety.
All those years. For what? Was it for nothing? Was it all a lie?
Was my pain meaningless?
What did those years mean to him?
He felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck.
Luck, he guessed. Moving like his shadow. Always there, unwelcomed; keeping him tied to this hollow life whether he would have it so, or not.
Am I... angry with him?
He let out his breath slowly. No. He would not be angry. He pushed that feeling away. It was a selfish thing. He was not the only one who had been hurt. Who had been alone. And in the end, despite it all, he wanted nothing quite so much as he wanted Rukawa Kaede beside him.
"Kaede?" he asked the silence. Hoping he was there. A couple of birds took startled flight at the sudden sound of his voice. It had been a few days since he'd seen him last. Days. After a lifetime of never being apart from him. Sheltered by him. Always.
It seemed almost unfathomable.
Sendoh turned his head to look around hopefully, but the place was deserted. He frowned.
"Kaede?" His voice disrupted the quietness, but there was no reply.
He felt cold then. The loneliness stretched out around him. I pushed him away, he recalled. Is he... really gone? He was aware of his absence very suddenly. Something missing. Something that had always been there. Something he had taken for granted would always persist, no matter what. He furrowed his brow.
"Don't hide from me," he said his voice echoing off the silent stones. "Kaede?" he repeated, his tone anxious. "Please," his voice quietened. "…don't hide."
"I'm here."
Sendoh spun around. He saw that Kaede was sitting on a broken wall nearby, watching him. His expression and his eyes were blank. Sendoh hesitated. His heart felt unbalanced. Teetering towards relief yet held back by his uncertainty. Not sure if this were... Kaede. His Kaede. Or something else. Something different and unknown and far away from him. There was no warmth in him. Merely presence. Existence.
My very own guardian angel, Sendoh realised uncomfortably. My gaoler in this life.
I don't want... this gap. This space between us. But I-
He floundered, not knowing what to do. Trying to straighten his thoughts and feelings so that they might make sense. But nothing did. What he wanted and what he feared were so closely meshed together it was impossible to comprehend.
And yet Kaede was just so... familiar.
He fitted neatly into Sendoh's consciousness. Everything about him was as if he were a piece of Sendoh. His own soul become visible. So much like home. More so than the stones and the village he could barely remember.
His heart thumped. He welcomed this familiar feeling of wanting to hold him. Wanting to reach out and close the distance. It warmed him. It was like a flare, unstoppable, undeniable, right in his core.
And yet... he held back. Nervous of Kaede's coldness. His blank stare. The wall that was between them then. He felt such warmth. Such love. But it... hurt.
"Kaede," he whispered, conflicted. "Why... why are you here? Did you follow me?"
There was a moment of silence as the words hung between them. He hadn't meant it to sound like an accusation, but it did.
Rukawa dropped silently down from the wall and stood there, his posture neutral. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. His hair was a little ruffled, as it usually was, as if he didn't care much for it. He wore a plain cotton kimono, with his usual sandals. Bare ankles, bare wrists, pale and fine. But this time there were two longswords at his hip.
"No," he eventually answered. "I've been waiting here. I knew you'd come."
Something twisted up tight in Sendoh's throat. Reminding him that their past was more than Rukawa had ever admitted to him. "Right," was all he managed to say, his voice stiffer than he would have liked.
He heard Rukawa take a breath, as if he wanted to say something, but although time passed, he still said nothing. The silence between them became huge and insufficient.
It was a long tense minute before Rukawa eventually said, "I'm sorry."
Sendoh heard the pain in his words.
Not wanting to acknowledge it, he turned his eyes upon the blackened stones and stared at them, tracing the patterns of ash. "Kaede," he said tiredly. "You saved me. You don't need to apologise."
Rukawa closed his eyes regretfully. "I'm sorry," he repeated.
Sendoh frowned. He didn't want to feel angry, but maybe he was. He didn't know what he felt about it. He didn't know if he believed his own words. Yes, Kaede had saved him. That was simple to say aloud. A good thing, most likely.
But for what? Why? And at what cost?
If he could go back through the years and make the choice for himself, Sendoh wasn't convinced he would have chosen to save himself that day.
He closed his eyes for a moment, teetering on the edge of his confusion. He felt like he was at war with himself. I'm so mixed up, he reflected. I just... don't seem to know anymore. And now that my purpose has been expended, what am I supposed to do?
"I'm sorry," Rukawa repeated for the third time. He swallowed anxiously. "I know you don't want to see me, but I-" he stumbled over his words inelegantly. "I will be invisible to you, if that is what you want," he offered, shifting his weight, "...but please," he lifted his eyes, "please do not send me away from you."
Sendoh's brows creased, and he lifted a hand to massage his temples. The emotion exhaustion was overwhelming. "Kaede I don't want your duty. I don't want your protection. Or your sword. I just- I just want-" he trailed off.
Rukawa remained where he stood, staring at Sendoh. His anxiety was visible in his stance. As if he expected to be rejected, and not knowing what he would do if he were.
He deserves better than me, Sendoh recalled his conversation with Myagi. I am nothing. But am I really so arrogant to hurt him for his own good?
He clenched his fists, frustrated with himself. Frustrated with all of this mess.
"Kaede," he blurted. "I love you. And that's- that's-" he fell over his words as the emotion overtook his tongue, "That's the only thing that I know to be true."
Rukawa peered at him uncertainly.
Feeling agitated, Sendoh moved his arm, gesturing to the rubble around them. And suddenly there were words. Truths. Beyond the habits of his lifetime. The realisation that things could change. That things could be better. Even he. Yes, even he could be more than a sword.
"The truth is..." he said, "Here, and now, Kaede I- you-" he took a breath. "The only thing I really want is to be beside you. If I can be something to you. Help you, even if only in some small way then... this life that I have, that you saved for me and gave to me, I…" his eyes fluttered closed as he breathed through the turbulence of his realisation. "…I want to live it.
"If I am worth something to you, then that is enough for me. I don't need the sense. I don't need revenge. You. You are..." he looked at Rukawa imploringly, hoping he would understand. "…you are every reason I have."
At that, Rukawa dipped his head, hiding his expression behind the fall of his fringe.
In the silence following, Sendoh began to feel a little embarrassed by his outpouring. He swallowed. He moved his feet. Eventually, when there was still no response, he parted his lips. "Kaede…" he began pleadingly.
But Rukawa looked up at him then, his stare causing Sendoh to fall back into silence. Then, with delicate steps, he walked forward. His sandals kicked up a little ash as he walked, overturning small stones, dust settling on the hem of his robe.
When he came close, his fingers reached out and knotted tightly in Sendoh's clothes. Then he pulled himself hard against Sendoh's chest, his head curling to fit under his chin, his fingers tight. So tight.
"Kaede..?" Sendoh felt like he couldn't breathe.
"I love you," Rukawa whispered into his chest, and then fell silent.
Sendoh hesitated, and reached up to brush his fingers gently along Rukawa's jaw.
Rukawa shivered, totally unused to such moments, to such a feeling. So many years wasted worshiping the darkness in his heart. And now to press himself against Sendoh's light? It burned. That must be why, Rukawa reasoned, as he pushed his face deeper into the cotton of Sendoh's kimono, that these tears were falling from his eyes and wetting the cloth.
"I love you too," Sendoh promised him. "I mean it. You don't ever need to doubt it." He closed his eyes, lifting his arm finally to hold Kaede tighter against him. It was funny how simple it seemed, when he reduced it to only that.
"Do not doubt me either," Kaede countered quietly, his words muffled against his chest.
They remained still, just standing together silently, listening to the distant calls of the crows and songbirds in the trees. It was a peaceful place, Sendoh thought then. Despite the sadness.
Kogure was sitting by the irori and idly stoking the coals in the sunken hearth when Mitsui returned.
"Did Kaede find him?" Mitsui demanded immediately.
Kogure nodded with a smile. "They came back together not long ago."
Mitsui let out a breath of relief and rolled his eyes in aspiration at the time same.
Kogure's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I never thought I'd see you running around the city searching for a mortal. I didn't think you cared about him."
Mitsui huffed, shrugging off his outdoor robe, tossing it into the corner and dragging Vengeance from his hip. "I care about Kaede," he clarified. "And for some reason he insists on being enamoured with that arrogant bastard."
Kogure let out a snort of laughter. "Arrogant?" he repeated, amused. "He defeated the keeper of the gates, you know."
Mitsui glowered crossly. "Don't fucking remind me."
Kogure chuckled as Mitsui made to storm across the hall in the direction of Kaede's room to check on him.
"Oh-" Kogure tried to call him back, "You know, I don't think you should-"
But Mitsui was already gone. Kogure lifted an eyebrow and turned back to the coals, prodding them distractedly. "Opps," he said quietly, shrugging his shoulders.
He heard the sound of the sliding door opening, a pause, and then it slid shut again with a bang. Mitsui reappeared.
"I did not fucking need to see that."
"Don't you know how to knock?"
"Fuck."
Kogure lifted an amused eyebrow as Mitsui sat down irritably beside the fire, his face a little red.
Kogure struggled to conceal his smirk. "Don't worry. I did exactly the same thing. Got a very nice view. No wonder Kaede's so taken with him."
"Will you shut up?" Mitsui grumbled.
Kogure leaned closer in amusement, his shoulder pressing into his lover's, and kissed him playfully.
Mitsui was polishing Vengeance when Sendoh found him sitting outside on what remained of the veranda. His eyes were dark and fixed on the trees in contemplation. Sendoh did not dare to ask what he was thinking about.
"Still here, are you?" Mitsui asked, without turning his head to see Sendoh approaching. His voice was as unfriendly as always.
"Yes," Sendoh acknowledged. "Is that a problem?"
"Not for me," Mitsui answered crisply. "I leave tomorrow."
Sendoh lifted an eyebrow. "Leave?" he echoed. "Leave for where?"
Mitsui turned his head and fixed Sendoh with a withering stare, as if he were a moron. "For heki-shuku, or ryu-shuku, or bou-shuku, for wherever the hell else the gate is moving to."
Sendoh frowned. "Kaede told me the mansions can be breached."
Mitsui put his hand on Vengeance's hilt. "That's what this is for," he said.
"You shouldn't go alone. How will you defend yourself without-?"
Mitsui stood up, interrupting Sendoh's words, and turned towards him. "Do you have any idea," he asked coldly, "how many demons I have slain?"
Sendoh did not back down. "I want to go with you," he said instead.
Mitsui was surprised for a moment. Then he narrowed his eyes, and shook his head. "No. You'll just slow me down."
"Kaede says the gate won't open for a decade or more. Even if I have to walk the whole way, there's still time."
Mitsui scoffed derisively, and turned his back as if intending to walk away.
"If the mansions can be breached," Sendoh said quickly, before he could go. "That means that you and Kaede have to stay together. You need to watch out for one another."
"Kaede intends to stay with you," Mitsui retorted.
"Kaede and I will both follow you to the next gate."
"Then you'll both just slow me down," Mitsui snapped.
Sendoh's gaze remained steady.
Mitsui threw up his hands and gave a dramatic sigh as if Sendoh were asking him for a major favour. "It'll take months to travel by foot," he grumbled. His eyes moved down to Innocence, back in her usual place on Sendoh's hip. "And you're still years away from keeping up with me."
Sendoh touched Innocence's hilt with his left hand, his still splinted fingers bumping against the wrappings. "Do you think so?" he said. "Why don't we practise? How's your leg?"
Mitsui compulsively reached down to touch his thigh as if reminded of his injury, and then shifted his weight to test his stability. He stood firmly. But then he eyed Sendoh's own injuries - a broken right arm, and three wrecked fingers. "You won't be practising much with that arm," he pointed out.
Sendoh only smiled. "That's okay," he said, stepping away onto the grass, turning towards Mitsui as if to invite him to follow. "I can use my left."
Mitsui followed after him reluctantly. "This is a joke," he muttered darkly.
"Humour me," Sendoh insisted.
Facing each other, Sendoh waited, and Mitsui frowned, making no move to draw Vengeance.
So Sendoh set about trying to pull Innocence free from her sheath with his left hand, the task made awkward by his damaged fingers.
Mitsui rolled his eyes.
After a bit of a struggle, Sendoh finally held Innocence outstretched to his left side, level with his shoulder. Not the sort of position, Mitsui thought, one usually defended from.
"I'm going to kill you by mistake," Mitsui complained. "This is stupid. I'll take off your arm, and then Kaede is going to be furious with me."
Sendoh gave an amused chuckle, and let go of the hilt.
Mitsui naturally expected the sword to fall.
But nothing happened.
The sword just hung in the air, refusing to drop as she ought to have done. Her song vibrating along her length.
Mitsui jaw dropped. He knew what he was looking at. He had seen it before. He was an apprentice of the House of Swords, and mastery of the sword was what he had striven for his whole life.
"What the fuck?" He finally spat out, incensed.
"Well?" Sendoh lifted an eyebrow. "Come on, then."
Mitsui did not wait. His hand flew to Vengeance at once, her own song rising in volume as his two wings burst out like tempered black flames, propelling him to his greatest speed. He held back nothing.
Innocence met him before he had even covered half the distance towards Sendoh. A beam of light that rushed upon him, forcing him to slow, to parry, unless she take him by the throat. Fast. Really fucking fast.
Faster even than Kiminobu, Mitsui realised in dismay as the sword pressured him, moving through the air like a dart and striking from all sides.
This is…
He grit his teeth, barely avoiding a quick swing. For a moment his eyes focused on Sendoh. He stood still and unmoving at a distance. His feet were fixed in place on the grass, his eyes following the motion of the sword as it attacked. He directed the blade with nothing more than his eyes.
This is true mastery, Mitsui was forced to acknowledge. The most I can do is call my sword to my hand. But this-?
Kaede and I have strived for more years than I can count, and we have never reached this level. Not even Kiminobu has achieved this.
How?
He set his feet and held Vengeance defensively. But Innocence retreated from him, releasing him from the pressure of her assault, and moving to Sendoh's wounded hand.
Mitsui realised he was out of breath. He straightened and tried to cover it up. He glared at Sendoh.
Is this what it means to be mortal?
Sendoh smiled. "So? I take it I'm invited?"
"Fuck you," Mitsui snapped back.
The house was probably as dank and damp and dusty as it had always been, and yet it was different. Rukawa could feel it in the wood, in the smells, in the nature of the place. The air moved differently. The colours had changed. It was hard to explain.
And it wasn't just the fact that half the building was gone. It was a warmth that came with life. With meaning. All the more beautiful for its temporary nature.
He thought he was beginning to understand how mortality made everything brighter, stronger, warmer. How a soul compressed into such a short lifetime… glowed. Like a brilliant flash of light, stunning in both its momentary nature, and its beauty.
Sendoh Akira had surpassed in a mere decade the level of skill that Mitsui had taken a millennium to cultivate. He had taken Rukawa's long broken soul in his hand and breathed healing into it in a way that Rukawa had never thought possible.
I see the world on a timescale of eternity. I have so little reason to strive. I exist. I wait. I have all the time anyone could ever want to achieve my goals.
And so I achieve nothing.
But he is not like that.
That is why, instead of merely trying to defeat Sakuragi, he actually did so.
Rukawa looked up at Sendoh where he stood, gloriously naked. The power in his muscles. The elegance and strength of his motions. It was hard to look away.
He was sipping water from a ceramic cup, retrieved from the further side of the room. Absent from Rukawa's side for an unwelcome moment.
His eyes met Rukawa's, and he smiled.
Rukawa flushed a little and forced himself to look away. He saw instead his own body, partially covered by the sheet he was twisted in.
He felt… hungry. Hungry for Sendoh's hands on his skin. Wanting to feel his body and his warmth, that bright spark he had. Wanting to be the object of his desire and his possessiveness. He wanted it with an unfamiliar intensity.
Sendoh drew closer again, cup in hand, and crouching beside where Rukawa lay brought it to Rukawa's lips. The ceramic felt cool against his heated skin. Their eyes remained fixed on each other as Sendoh tilted the cup and Rukawa felt the cool liquid pool against his lips.
This… wasn't necessary. He could simply have accepted the cup and drunk from it himself, but instead he allowed Sendoh to do this thing. He liked the feeling. There was something intimate, something caring, about this.
He parted his lips and drank carefully. Sendoh smiled and his eyes creased up.
Perhaps, Rukawa considered, for the duration of his life, I will live like this too. Feel like this, too.
I must fight for every moment. Feel the pressure and the threat of time.
At once I must both dread and ignore the fact that time will take him away from me.
It is both frightening and comforting in its surety.
Sendoh drew the cup away from his lips and then paused, his eyes catching on the glimmering sheen of wetness brushed over Rukawa's pink lips.
Rukawa waited a moment, and then allowed his mouth to tug upwards in the smallest hint of a smile.
"Oh…" Sendoh breathed, hypnotised by his expression, and then he leaned in to kiss him.
They settled down upon the futon together, wrapped naked around each other, skin pressed smooth and soft, marvelling at the warmth and contentment. It was still so alien, and so unexpected, to both of them. A connection without fear, or pain, or anxiety. Something else. Something real.
It was temporary and yet it was immediate. And somehow… somehow…
Rukawa ran his hands over Sendoh's shoulders, his fingers drifting lightly over his back. Sendoh's lips pressed teasing love against his mouth.
They pushed against one another, seeking something. Finally finding it.
Rukawa turned in towards Sendoh's body and let himself become lost in Sendoh's arms.
Kaede's breath filled his mouth. Sendoh closed his eyes and relished it, the feeling of Kaede's skin under his hands, the heat of his flesh, the rhythmic pulse in his neck, and the throb of his body that pulsed and gripped and threatened him with madness. He groaned helplessly, even as Kaede's hands slid reassuringly up his arms and over his shoulders.
"Don't stop," Kaede murmured a little deliriously into his ear.
Sendoh forced himself to open his eyes and meet Kaede's gaze head on.
What... is it... that he has?
This... thing...
He is... so... beautiful I-
The floor was messy with their discarded clothing. Cotton robes in colourful piles. The futon welcomed their naked bodies with fresh clean sheets and soft blankets.
It was so easy to make love to him. Over and over again. How strange that this thing of violence and war could feel so soft and warm. As always he struck Sendoh as being so profoundly physical. His body was flesh and skin and strength and softness. His eyes were blue and emotive. Human.
But still, even now, there was... something. More than what Sendoh could see with his eyes. Kaede's power. Hidden behind a thin veil. And it was at moments like this, with their bodies joined and tangled in the sheets, that he was most beautiful and yet most terrifying. Some aspect of whatever mask he wore most of the time would slip, and Sendoh could see a glimpse of him in those eyes. His truth. Something that wore power and time like a robe. And yet with a frankness, an honesty, that caught Sendoh's breath.
This is hard to understand, Sendoh knew. But it is real.
"Nghhh," Rukawa let out the noise as his body was forced into a curl, tossing his head and digging his fingertips into Sendoh's biceps. "Ah-" he panted, turning his face back to meet Sendoh's. "Hah- hah- haa-"
How is this possible? Sendoh found himself wondering. That he is here, with me, like this?
What have I done to deserve this?
This moment of absolute perfection?
Beneath him, Rukawa finally relaxed, becoming limp, shuddering and panting, his eyes unfocused as he gazed up at Sendoh. His lips moved as if he would speak, but no sound came out.
It is real, Sendoh thought, watching him.
"Are you okay?" Sendoh asked him with gentle warmth. The same way he always asked him after they had made love.
Rukawa's eyes fluttered slightly, but he did not answer, ignoring the question as he always did.
Sendoh lowered his upper body, his arm muscles flexing as he put his nose into Rukawa's neck and breathed in contentedly. Rukawa's arms went up and around him, holding him, sliding over his damp skin.
"Don't leave me," Rukawa murmured into his ear.
Sendoh paused. Then he pulled away, and looked down on him without comprehension. "I'm not leaving," he answered. "What do you mean?"
Rukawa blinked up at him, looking almost embarrassed, as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud at all.
The meaning dawned on Sendoh. But he did not know what to say. His instinct to promise was halted by the knowledge that the promise of forever could not be kept. Not by him.
He drew back onto his knees, looking down at Rukawa sprawled on the futon. Rukawa propped himself up on his elbows, gazing up at him through his disheveled fringe, the full length of his body naked and damp with sweat before Sendoh's eyes. Each contour seemed to glisten, his skin smooth and unmarked and pale. A contrast with Sendoh's body that was tanned and flecked with scars.
Do I have enough courage to face this?
To confront my own mortality?
It was a frightening thing.
"I'll stay with you," Sendoh managed eventually, his voice a little heavy, "as long as I can."
He reached forward with his left hand and cupped Rukawa's face gently. He noticed that Rukawa's eyes were a little wet. He pretended not to see, leaned close and put his lips against Rukawa's softly, kissing him, breathing in the scent of him.
Rukawa's eyes fluttered closed and he turned his face upwards to meet Sendoh's kiss.
They parted with a delicate sound, and touched their foreheads together, resting against one another, breath mingling in the space between.
"I won't waste a single moment," Sendoh murmured. "I'll give you so much love that not even time will exhaust it."
He felt a silent shiver run through Rukawa's body.
"I wish I could do better than that, but..." he trailed off and sighed, "Kaede-?"
There was no reply except the slow blink of his eyelashes, and the swirling emotion in his eyes.
"Even if I can't stay here, you know that I'll... love you forever, right?"
There was an almost inaudible intake of breath. Pain. To have it spoken to forthright. The trials still ahead, terrifying and dark and lonely.
"Yes," Kaede's near silent voice whispered back. "So will I."
=the end=