I walk alone ...

Taikoubou sat alone in his room. The lighted candle that stood upon the dark polished table glowed steadily, casting a ruddy glow on his expressionless face. He was not angry. He thought he would be. Then again, he tried to make himself angry.

But he could not.

His gut did not feel the deep seething acid of anger. Instead, a dead coldness welled up in him. He wanted to cry. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to feel something instead of this void within him. He felt like vomiting and he clutched his chest tightly, crumpling the yellow fabric beneath.

Taikoubou could still see amidst those hateful falling strands of dark blue hair, Fugen's look of fear when he turned and saw through the door panels. When he saw Taikoubou standing outside, drenched by the rain, about to knock upon the door.

Clothes still dripping wet, Taikoubou sat stone still on his chair, staring past the candlelight at the closed doors of his room. The rainwater dripped methodically down onto the wooden floor, wetting the area around him.

Thunder roared across the skies. The lightening illuminated the shadowy silhouettes of the weeping willows outside. Taikoubou stared at each bright flash, eyes dulled with no thought.

I hate him.

Lightening streaked across the horizon, followed by a scream of thunder. His eyes trailed to his hands, and he tugged his gloves off, throwing them onto the wet floor. The skin on his fingers were wrinkled from the wet gloves. He pulled off his shoes and disgust gripped his face. His feet stank badly. Yet, the stink brought new hurt to his heart.

Every night, Fugen would appear, without fail, bearing a basin of scented water and those wonderful soft towels that Taikoubou have no idea where the material came from. But he loved those towels, and how Fugen's delicate hands massaged his sore feet and washed them till they were pink and clean.

'Bou-chan, you are so dirty tonight!'

'It's the old man's fault.'

'I don't like a dirty Bou-chan.'

'You don't have a choice, Fugen.'

'I will make you drink that water I washed your feet in!'

Taikoubou laughed dryly. Fugen had choices now. And it was not him, he chose. Not him. 'Susuu.'

A knock on the panels awoke Taikoubou. He glared at the shadow outside the papered doors. Lightening flared, brightening up the place for an instant, showing a tall figure outside, its strands of long hair wind-tossed.

'Go away.'

The doors creaked open. Taikoubou leapt up and slammed the doors shut, sliding the lock into place.

'I said.' Taikoubou tried to still the anger seeping into his voice. He was angry now, and the fury was building up. 'Go away, Youzen.'

A hand tried to push the door open. Taikoubou leaned against the jointing, the stink of his feet and the wet cold floor biting into his soles annoyed him further.

'GO AWAY!' Taikoubou screamed through gritted teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut, putting the whole weight of his tired body onto the doors. He heard a muted sigh vanish and he finally relaxed a little, though his hands still clutched at the lock.

'Bou-chan'

Taikoubou's head jerked up. He spun around, staring into the shadowed corners of his room. Fugen stepped out.

In his hands was the familiar wash basin, filled with violet flowers.

'Come here, Bou-chan.'

I hate you, Fugen

Taikoubou left the doors and moved towards Fugen. The floor no longer felt cold, all thoughts of Youzen earlier disappeared.

Fugen was here, that smile on his face, the soft glow of his halo in the darkness, like a candle that lighted his way.

I hate you, Fugen

'You are all wet, Bou-chan…' Fugen put down the wash basin and slowly lifted away Taikoubou's drenched outer garment. Making soft tching sounds, the sennin unbuttoned the rest of the inner clothing until Taikoubou stood half-naked and shivering.

'Sit down, Bou-chan.' A towel was draped over his shoulders and his feet was put into warm scented water. 'You are dirty, Bou-chan…' A soft chuckle followed as fingers proceeded to clean his toes gently. A tingle danced down Taikoubou's neck. Thunder boomed again and the rain renewed, splattering loudly onto the cobblestones outside. Taikoubou stared down at Fugen kneeling on the wet floor, the water seeping into the sennin's white pants, making them translucent, making the fabric stick to the skin. Yet, Fugen did not move. He continued to wash Taikoubou's feet carefully, the radiant halo illuminating the bits of shadows between them.

Taikoubou reached out and swept his fingers across the halo. A sharp warmth ate into his bones. Fugen looked up, hands in the water, violet-blue eyes curious.

'Why did you do that, Bou-chan?'

Taikoubou sucked in a huge breath and took his feet out of the water. Pushing the basin away, he knelt with Fugen, and took the sennin's wet hands, bringing it to his face.

It stank of his feet, and smelt sweet of the violet flowers. He did not mind. Utter confusion appeared on Fugen's face. But the sennin kept quiet.

'Bou-chan?'

Taikoubou did not answer. He did not want to answer, nor did he see the need to. He pulled Fugen towards him, his arms winding around the sennin's neck.

'Fugen…' He turned his mouth close to Fugen's ear and he whispered. 'I hate you.'

With that, Taikoubou swiftly kissed Fugen's neck, sucking hard until a mottled bruise appeared.