Chapter Three: The Kiss of the God
After the rainy season came and went, they drifted northwards toward Yasha's ancestral home, Alaka, once the realm of Kubera, God of Wealth, now a vast and empty valley in the high mountains. Ashura did not want to go, preferring the tropical South regardless of its dreams and associations, but Yasha, for once, was insistent. "It will be changed, Ashura," he said-- and so it was. The glaciers had melted; the snow was gone; and as they made their crude camp at the edge of the valley that once had sheltered Yasha's clan, both were surprised by the number and profusion of birds and wildflowers springing up in this once-desolate place.
Later, Yasha and Ashura sat quietly beneath a wind-twisted cherry tree in full bloom, gazing together out over the world. A bright Spring had come to a place it had barely touched before, and the new sun seemed to pull at Ashura's heart painfully as its rays slanted behind the mountains. Of Yasha's village, not a trace remained-- only a great blue lake where it had stood, and around that, green hills, trees, and tender grass. White butterflies were everywhere, as if in reminder of the snows long past. A herd of wild horses moved here and there, no doubt the descendants of the horses imported by the Yasha clan.
Ashura's chin rested on Yasha's shoulder. "Yasha? It is so peaceful here. So beautiful now. So why does it make me cry inside?"
"I feel it too, Ashura. It is the presence and the absence of God Mahadeva."
"I do not understand."
Yasha tried to explain. "It is that great beauty which you can see but can never touch; the thirst you feel when you see the sun behind the mountains, yes? And you wish to chase it like a butterfly, but it cannot be caught."
"Oh yes! Exactly."
"If you were to seek behind the mountains, there would only be more mountains. But it is not the sun or the mountains you thirst for-- you are in the mountains already, and the sun is falling right now upon your head like these cherry blossoms."
Ashura caressed Yasha's cheek in silent agreement.
"It is like a beautiful song, a venugita, and you dance to it, but you cannot see the player of the flute. That is the absence of the God."
"But where is Mahadeva? Why should He leave?"
"Mahadeva only knows these things. But by making us feel His absence so keenly, we know of His presence." Yasha turned a little and smiled at Ashura's obvious confusion. "Ashura. If there were no such thing as water, would you thirst?"
"Yes, very much!"
"That's not quite the answer I wanted! Let us try food instead, that should move you to think more carefully! Now... If food did not exist, and had never existed, would you be hungry?"
"I would be dead!"
The corner of Yasha's mouth twitched. Ashura had a devilish look. "But if you did not need food, would you be hungry?"
"Well... I suppose not. But the world would be very dull... Oh! I see now!" The golden eyes brightened. "It is like love."
"Yes! It is the very essence of love, Ashura. It is the One Love." Yasha took Ashura's hand tightly in his own as he continued. "When we love someone, we are actually seeing the God through them, as if through a clear glass. Behind all love is the One Love."
Ashura turned to face him directly, eyes brimming. "Yasha. Is that what you see in me?"
"...Yes. You are my God, Ashura."
Ashura moved very suddenly, taking Yasha by surprise, silencing him abruptly with a passionate kiss. That perfect mouth, cool pink lips tasting a little of honey, covered Yasha's both tentatively yet knowingly. It moved Yasha like nothing ever had before in his life. As they slowly broke apart he began to tremble and looked away in confusion. Ashura regarded him uncertainly. "Yasha--? Is-- Did I do wrong?"
Yasha turned back with resolve, holding the slender hands to his heart. "No. You did not do anything wrong. Ashura..." His words trailed off. It had been inevitable since he had first locked eyes with the spirit of this god thousands of years ago, yet he had all but forgotten that brief moment until now. He did not want to voice the sudden desire in him and how much it frightened him. He did not want Ashura to act upon anything other than Ashura's own desires. But this was the god he'd seen at the very beginning of it all, and the only god he'd ever wanted.
Then, as Ashura kissed him again-- a clumsy, eager kiss-- he realized that Ashura had never forgotten. And they lay down with one another on their tattered old blanket under a rain of cherry blossoms.
"Yasha. I have a secret."
Which Ashura obviously wanted to tell. Yasha held his companion to his heart, brushing away stray locks of silken hair. "Tell me your secret," he whispered.
Ashura drew a deep breath. Then, very shyly, looking away with a hint of a blush: "My father loved Taishaku-ten... And I remember... I remember..."
Yasha nodded, not showing any surprise, and said nothing, only moving to press his mouth to Ashura's with surprising delicacy, tracing along those white teeth with his tongue, gently experimenting, then slowly proceeding to teach Ashura the finer arts of the kiss. Years ago he had noticed that even chaste kisses seemed to bring Ashura a strangely intense pleasure, which at the time he had thought more psychological than physical. Now he saw he had been wrong, that it was sensual bliss as well. It was remarkable, but he had heard of this kind of thing once before in his youth. His brother had spoken of a young man whose back had been broken in a fall. His loving wife, unable to please him any more in the usual ways, had learned to please him with kisses; and slowly his sense of erotic pleasure had transferred itself to the upper parts of his body. Yasha reasoned that Ashura must be in much the same situation-- forever unable to feel any physical pleasure at its ultimate source, but able to channel the feelings elsewhere, to equally sensitive places, like those beautiful pink lips.
First lightly, then more deeply, they drank of one another, ceasing only when their lips and faces were almost too bruised and sensitive to touch any more. Quietly they rested together under the stars.
"Yasha?"
"Hm."
"Please, take me. I know you want to."
Yasha smiled slightly, wrapping Ashura closer, confident now of his self- control and enjoying the erotic contact of their bare skins. Ashura touched his body lightly, with some curiosity. Though they were used to each other's appearances, the sight of Yasha in such a highly excited state was rare.
"Ashura, I have waited for you for thousands of years. But you are different than any other being. No one knows just how your body is made. It seems so fragile, dear one, just like a flower bud. I will not have you hurt by my lust." He rested his head on Ashura's chest, listening to the heartbeat of the War God. "And you must believe me, Ashura-- I could hurt you terribly! That is what I will always fear the most."
"You would never hurt me, Yasha. That is what I know."
Yasha was silent, shutting his eyes. Ashura's skin was so soft, pressing against him... Ashura lightly caressed his hair, then slid one hand between their bodies, exploring shyly with gentle fingertips. He lost himself nearly instantly and came face to face with the missing God, his cry ringing round from cliff to cliff for what seemed forever before worldly sight came back to his eyes and there was Ashura, resting beside him in the moonlight, eyes glowing. Still panting, Yasha reached for that delicate hand. "...Ashura!"
Ashura pulled away a little and looked at him with wonder. "Is that all...?"
Yasha chuckled low in his chest. "More than enough!"
Ashura's bright eyes drifted thoughtfully. "If you were to be received by a woman, there would be baby Yashas!" The sudden idea brought both delight and deep sadness to Ashura's beautiful face.
"Yes," said Yasha contentedly. "And you would be so jealous and so envious you would not even be able to speak!"
"I would not!" said Ashura, moving to drop flat on Yasha's chest so abruptly that Yasha's breath was almost knocked out of him.
"Oh, you would!" said Yasha, and began kissing his companion's swollen lips all over again, playfully rolling them over and over in the pale blossoms until Ashura was laughing with happiness, and every care they'd ever had was momentarily forgotten.
* * *
"So," said Ashura, ravenously devouring the boiled vegetable soup they had cooked for breakfast. "If love allows us to see the God, why does every yogin pride himself on celibacy?"
Yasha finished a long drink of springwater and set his cup down with a sigh. "That is a very good question, Ashura, and it deserves a long answer which I am not qualified to give." He clambered to his feet, catching up Yamato.
"Where are we going?" said Ashura.
Yasha strode away without answering, toward the edge of the cliff overlooking the lake. He stood looking down into its depths as Ashura caught up to him. He fancied he could see the shadows of the lost village in the water. Then he shook himself, putting a hand on Ashura's shoulder. "I would like to stay here, Ashura."
"I like it here. Only... there are no other people."
"How do we know that? We have yet to look."
* * *
They found shelter in a natural cave. This mountainous land was a jumble of rocks and it was not difficult to find such nooks and crannies. There was plenty of firewood, and the wind usually blew the right way, so their faces were not filled with smoke. Up here, Ashura would have to eat roots and potherbs instead of mangoes and jungle fruits, but Yasha did not hear any complaints. On the contrary. Ashura seemed to have had a burden lifted, and smiled more, glancing sideways often. Yasha understood that Ashura had had a great dream fulfilled with only a kiss, and he made sure that he kissed Ashura often!
There were people in this country-- nomads, mostly reindeer-herders. They met a large troupe one day towards the fall season, bringing their beasts south, past the great lake. A handful of these people looked like they might have Yasha clan blood. Had some of Yasha's people escaped...? No, he realized sadly. It was the old nomadic blood that, originally from farther south, had helped to found his clan, mixing with the god blood to make phenomenally strong people.
They were not horrified to see Ashura, who was already, at this time of year, bundled in a silver wolf-pelt. They did not connect the lovely figure before them with the monstrous myths of the folk with whom they traded. Rather, they collectively took Ashura to be a phenomenally beautiful woman. Yasha called "her" Karuna. Ashura spent several days awkwardly turning down proposals despite Yasha's nearly silent presence. When two things became clear-- that Ashura really did not want the attentions of others, and was becoming embarrassed to the point of fright-- Yasha finally put a stop to it with a few well-chosen words to the tribe's chief. When the first snow came and the group finally decided to move on, they cheerfully left Ashura and Yasha with good-luck and fertility wishes, a pile of meat and hides, and a white reindeer for Ashura to ride on.
As the days grew even shorter, the sun failed and a steady wet snow set in. On warmer days the lake was an ocean and water flowed everywhere, as it had after the Deluge, when Varaha, the Boar God, had lifted the earth from the cosmic ocean on His tusk.
Ashura was miserable. Fresh potherbs such as fireweed and wild spinach were only a dream now, and food became an unvarying regimen of boiled roots, spiced with a few dried berries and fruits. Yasha looked on anxiously as his companion's thin body became still thinner. "Ashura, you must eat!" he would say, offering meat or fish; but Ashura still would not touch flesh.
Then came a hard freeze. All the clouds vanished, and the stars shone bright with heavenly fire. One star shone brighter than any other. It rode low on the horizon, due South, and glittered like gold.
Ashura stood shivering at the cave mouth, gazing at it wistfully. When Yasha came silently to drape a second pelt around the trembling shoulders, Ashura said: "My brother lives up there, Yasha. Sometimes I feel as if he is calling to me. I dream..."
Yasha looked for long minutes at the great "star." Unlike the other stars, it did not move across the sky but stayed absolutely still.
"We must go South again, Ashura. My country is no place for you in winter."
* * *
Yasha fashioned a sled out of wooden poles and piled it with what belongings they had-- mainly furs and dried and frozen foodstuffs. Hitching it to the white reindeer, he set Ashura, who was clothed in silver fox fur, sidesaddle on the animal's back. It seemed a good time for travel; the clouds had showed no sign of returning; the sun was bright and the air crystalline and friendly. As they started off, Ashura was visibly more cheerful, chatting about various topics and only falling silent once, when they passed their cherry tree, which now lay leafless and dormant under a drift.
They had gone many miles and evening was drawing on when suddenly Yasha stopped, the reindeer almost butting him with its antlers. The sun was setting; the stars were coming out over the North; but Yasha's native instincts made him scan the landscape thoroughly. Pale clouds were moving over the western sky. He sniffed the air and smelled snow on the wind. He turned to Ashura quickly. "A storm is moving in. It's a very bad one. We must stop here and make a shelter, or we will be caught in it!"
Ashura slid off the reindeer. "How will we make our shelter?"
"We're still by the lake, and it is frozen solid. We will use that." Yasha drew Yamato. With a single easy blow of his Ki he sliced the ice down to the lakebed. Ashura smiled. Here was a use for Shurato which was nonviolent. The golden hilt appeared in midair as Ashura called the blade forth. Together the two quickly began to cut blocks of ice. Yasha kept glancing up at the sky. "We don't have much time. We must cut straight down and use the ice for the walls of our shelter... Ashura?"
Ashura had stopped work and was standing, breath fogging, a dangerous sweat glistening on the fair brow. "I am tired already, Yasha!"
Yasha cursed softly. "It is because you will not eat meat when there is no other food! Here--" He rummaged in his belt-bag, coming up with a chunk of cold cooked reindeer. Ashura turned away. Yasha caught the slim wrist. "Ashura!" His voice was dark, eye showing a glint of red. "How many times have you seen me angry at you?"
"Never," said Ashura in a small voice.
"I will be very angry at you if you do not eat this meat!"
"But Yasha, I cannot! It will bring forth the Black Ashura!"
"If you do not eat, you will only get weaker! Perhaps you will die and leave me alone here?"
Ashura hesitated. Yasha pushed the food at his companion. "Eat!"
Ashura took the meat with a sigh and a reproachful look at Yasha, and began to eat it, slowly. Yasha glanced at the sky for the thousandth time. The air was beginning to feel more restless. He cut down again into the ice, finishing a trench deep enough to shelter them, large enough for them to breathe, yet small enough to hold their body heat --without overmuch melting of the ice. It was an old science, perfected before there was a Yasha clan, and it was exacting. Fortunately the lessons of his youth had not left him. He cut a sleeping platform out of the ice as the first gust of wind blew his long black hair up, fanning it out like a peacock's train. "Ashura!" he said as he worked. "Get the sled and bring it here!"
There was no reply. He turned and his throat missed Shurato's blade by half an inch.
Yasha stood stock still. Ashura had been right; now it was himself that he cursed silently. Meat. Pain, blood, death-- even hints of these things were enough to revive the monster still dormant in Ashura's breast. As the wind blew again and a shower of ice pellets suddenly hit them, Black Ashura laughed. It was a sound he had hoped never to hear again, that he had sworn never to hear again-- deep, inhuman. Mad. Ashura was taunting him, could have killed him already a dozen times over. The golden eyes glowed with feral mindlessness.
Yasha took a sudden yet calculated risk. He whipped Yamato up, knocking aside Shurato's blade. The two swords struck like a thunderclap and the white reindeer, terrified, began to run away with the sled which bore their only hope of survival. Fast as thought Yasha snatched Shurato up, the two swords held close together, singing in his hands as Black Ashura staggered backward. "Ashura! Ashura! ASHURA!"
Suddenly Ashura turned and fled, running after the sled.
Yasha hesitated. Without Shurato, Ashura could not survive or find the way back to their shelter in a snowstorm such as this. But with Shurato, Black Ashura would be dominant as long as the spell cast by the meat lasted, and there could be a much worse fate in store for them than merely freezing to death.
Yasha could not leave their shelter with Yamato. The two swords were linked together, and in this weather Yamato would likely be their only guide back. But if Yasha left Yamato to guide them home, and took only Shurato with him, Black Ashura would remain uncontrolled.
Yasha came to a decision as Ashura and reindeer faded into a featureless field of white. He simply kept Yamato in one hand and Shurato in the other and ran after his companion.
The golden hilt of Shurato writhed in Yasha's grip like a captured snake wanting loose. He held her as tightly as he could, feeling his hand frozen on the knuckles, yet white-hot on the palm. As she continued to struggle against him, he touched her with Yamato's tip and she quieted. The snow was blowing straight in his face and he did not have a free hand to protect his one good eye, which was slowly freezing shut. The tracks he was following were being blown away too quickly. Heart sinking, he staggered on.
He saw the sled first, then the reindeer. Ashura was wrestling it, teeth sunk in its throat. The scene could have been comical. Fortunately the tough hide prevented Ashura from doing much damage; but the few traces of fresh blood were not going to make things any better as far as the presence of Black Ashura was concerned.
Yasha strode around the deer with long steps, dropped Shurato on the ground with Yamato atop her, and grasped Ashura by the nape of the neck. "Ashura!" he shouted above the wind. "If you do not come to your senses we will die!"
Ashura growled like some jungle cat, and for a moment Yasha felt that he held a flaming tiger captive. Deliberately he stepped on both swords and embraced the feral creature as tightly as he could, so tightly the breath was forced from Ashura's body as a wall of snow hit them. For a moment they were engulfed in a blinding flame that leaped back from the surrounding ice crystals so brightly that Yasha's cold-seared eye began to flood with tears that froze nearly instantly on his lashes. He felt Ashura going limp in his arms and immediately released his stranglehold on the thin ribcage. When his companion began to breathe again, he was filled with relief.
Yamato dropped downward by an inch, jolting them. Shurato had vanished. Ashura was regaining consciousness. "Yasha...? Yasha!"
Black Ashura was fading. Yasha wasted no more time but bent to grab Yamato and felt his way to the sled, fumbling at the knotted ropes that held the pelts in place. He did not want to cut the precious rope except as a last resort. Ashura clung to him. "Yasha! I am sorry...!"
"There is no time to be sorry! Help me, Ashura! I am snowblind!"
But instead of the quick assistance he expected, he heard Ashura gasp in astonishment. "What is it?" he cried, trying to look but unable to see.
Ashura's voice was soft, uncertain. "Ten-- Tenou?"
"Ashura! You are dreaming! Help me!"
He felt Ashura straighten boldly, pushing away from him but grabbing his hand. "Yasha. We must follow Tenou!"
"He is not here!"
"You can't see, Yasha! He is just ahead, waving at us! Come on!"
There was no time left for any hesitation. Yasha sheathed Yamato with his free hand and took the reindeer's bridle, letting Ashura pull them on. If it was only a hallucination, Yasha and Ashura would die together painlessly. The world would be safe from Black Ashura. It would be all right. Yasha smiled without bitterness as he blindly followed his only beloved, and his death. He focused on the warmth of the hand in his, the memories of their short summer in the North. Ashura's happy laughter as they rolled over and over in cherry blossoms and meadow flowers. The kiss of the God. No nightmares. It had been good.
Then Ashura let go of his hand and Yasha fell straight down, landing on snow-covered ice and nearly breaking his bones. He had released the reindeer reflexively just as he'd fallen, narrowly avoiding bringing the animal down on top of him. He sat up, unbelieving, feeling the walls of the shelter he had cut in the lake ice. "Ashura!"
"I am sorry, Yasha!" came the other's voice, from above him. "I came on it without seeing it!"
"Here is Yamato! Cut the deer from the sled! Put the sled across the hole, then get down here!"
"I will! I'll hurry!"
Yasha sat still and anxious, listening intently. He heard Ashura working; heard the snap of the reindeer's traces as they were cut; heard Ashura's voice faintly, talking to self-- or to someone else up there. Finally he heard Ashura scrambling down to him and they sat huddled together, wrapped in one anothers' arms. "Ashura! You led us back!"
"No." Ashura's teeth were chattering. "No, it was my brother!"
"But how could it be? How could it be, Ashura?"
"Tenou spoke to me. He said he had been watching over us. He said he wanted us to live."
Yasha said nothing more, only pushing his face into Ashura's hair, drawing deep breaths of that familiar sweet scent. Above them, the storm howled on, burying them under a veil of ghostly white.
After the rainy season came and went, they drifted northwards toward Yasha's ancestral home, Alaka, once the realm of Kubera, God of Wealth, now a vast and empty valley in the high mountains. Ashura did not want to go, preferring the tropical South regardless of its dreams and associations, but Yasha, for once, was insistent. "It will be changed, Ashura," he said-- and so it was. The glaciers had melted; the snow was gone; and as they made their crude camp at the edge of the valley that once had sheltered Yasha's clan, both were surprised by the number and profusion of birds and wildflowers springing up in this once-desolate place.
Later, Yasha and Ashura sat quietly beneath a wind-twisted cherry tree in full bloom, gazing together out over the world. A bright Spring had come to a place it had barely touched before, and the new sun seemed to pull at Ashura's heart painfully as its rays slanted behind the mountains. Of Yasha's village, not a trace remained-- only a great blue lake where it had stood, and around that, green hills, trees, and tender grass. White butterflies were everywhere, as if in reminder of the snows long past. A herd of wild horses moved here and there, no doubt the descendants of the horses imported by the Yasha clan.
Ashura's chin rested on Yasha's shoulder. "Yasha? It is so peaceful here. So beautiful now. So why does it make me cry inside?"
"I feel it too, Ashura. It is the presence and the absence of God Mahadeva."
"I do not understand."
Yasha tried to explain. "It is that great beauty which you can see but can never touch; the thirst you feel when you see the sun behind the mountains, yes? And you wish to chase it like a butterfly, but it cannot be caught."
"Oh yes! Exactly."
"If you were to seek behind the mountains, there would only be more mountains. But it is not the sun or the mountains you thirst for-- you are in the mountains already, and the sun is falling right now upon your head like these cherry blossoms."
Ashura caressed Yasha's cheek in silent agreement.
"It is like a beautiful song, a venugita, and you dance to it, but you cannot see the player of the flute. That is the absence of the God."
"But where is Mahadeva? Why should He leave?"
"Mahadeva only knows these things. But by making us feel His absence so keenly, we know of His presence." Yasha turned a little and smiled at Ashura's obvious confusion. "Ashura. If there were no such thing as water, would you thirst?"
"Yes, very much!"
"That's not quite the answer I wanted! Let us try food instead, that should move you to think more carefully! Now... If food did not exist, and had never existed, would you be hungry?"
"I would be dead!"
The corner of Yasha's mouth twitched. Ashura had a devilish look. "But if you did not need food, would you be hungry?"
"Well... I suppose not. But the world would be very dull... Oh! I see now!" The golden eyes brightened. "It is like love."
"Yes! It is the very essence of love, Ashura. It is the One Love." Yasha took Ashura's hand tightly in his own as he continued. "When we love someone, we are actually seeing the God through them, as if through a clear glass. Behind all love is the One Love."
Ashura turned to face him directly, eyes brimming. "Yasha. Is that what you see in me?"
"...Yes. You are my God, Ashura."
Ashura moved very suddenly, taking Yasha by surprise, silencing him abruptly with a passionate kiss. That perfect mouth, cool pink lips tasting a little of honey, covered Yasha's both tentatively yet knowingly. It moved Yasha like nothing ever had before in his life. As they slowly broke apart he began to tremble and looked away in confusion. Ashura regarded him uncertainly. "Yasha--? Is-- Did I do wrong?"
Yasha turned back with resolve, holding the slender hands to his heart. "No. You did not do anything wrong. Ashura..." His words trailed off. It had been inevitable since he had first locked eyes with the spirit of this god thousands of years ago, yet he had all but forgotten that brief moment until now. He did not want to voice the sudden desire in him and how much it frightened him. He did not want Ashura to act upon anything other than Ashura's own desires. But this was the god he'd seen at the very beginning of it all, and the only god he'd ever wanted.
Then, as Ashura kissed him again-- a clumsy, eager kiss-- he realized that Ashura had never forgotten. And they lay down with one another on their tattered old blanket under a rain of cherry blossoms.
"Yasha. I have a secret."
Which Ashura obviously wanted to tell. Yasha held his companion to his heart, brushing away stray locks of silken hair. "Tell me your secret," he whispered.
Ashura drew a deep breath. Then, very shyly, looking away with a hint of a blush: "My father loved Taishaku-ten... And I remember... I remember..."
Yasha nodded, not showing any surprise, and said nothing, only moving to press his mouth to Ashura's with surprising delicacy, tracing along those white teeth with his tongue, gently experimenting, then slowly proceeding to teach Ashura the finer arts of the kiss. Years ago he had noticed that even chaste kisses seemed to bring Ashura a strangely intense pleasure, which at the time he had thought more psychological than physical. Now he saw he had been wrong, that it was sensual bliss as well. It was remarkable, but he had heard of this kind of thing once before in his youth. His brother had spoken of a young man whose back had been broken in a fall. His loving wife, unable to please him any more in the usual ways, had learned to please him with kisses; and slowly his sense of erotic pleasure had transferred itself to the upper parts of his body. Yasha reasoned that Ashura must be in much the same situation-- forever unable to feel any physical pleasure at its ultimate source, but able to channel the feelings elsewhere, to equally sensitive places, like those beautiful pink lips.
First lightly, then more deeply, they drank of one another, ceasing only when their lips and faces were almost too bruised and sensitive to touch any more. Quietly they rested together under the stars.
"Yasha?"
"Hm."
"Please, take me. I know you want to."
Yasha smiled slightly, wrapping Ashura closer, confident now of his self- control and enjoying the erotic contact of their bare skins. Ashura touched his body lightly, with some curiosity. Though they were used to each other's appearances, the sight of Yasha in such a highly excited state was rare.
"Ashura, I have waited for you for thousands of years. But you are different than any other being. No one knows just how your body is made. It seems so fragile, dear one, just like a flower bud. I will not have you hurt by my lust." He rested his head on Ashura's chest, listening to the heartbeat of the War God. "And you must believe me, Ashura-- I could hurt you terribly! That is what I will always fear the most."
"You would never hurt me, Yasha. That is what I know."
Yasha was silent, shutting his eyes. Ashura's skin was so soft, pressing against him... Ashura lightly caressed his hair, then slid one hand between their bodies, exploring shyly with gentle fingertips. He lost himself nearly instantly and came face to face with the missing God, his cry ringing round from cliff to cliff for what seemed forever before worldly sight came back to his eyes and there was Ashura, resting beside him in the moonlight, eyes glowing. Still panting, Yasha reached for that delicate hand. "...Ashura!"
Ashura pulled away a little and looked at him with wonder. "Is that all...?"
Yasha chuckled low in his chest. "More than enough!"
Ashura's bright eyes drifted thoughtfully. "If you were to be received by a woman, there would be baby Yashas!" The sudden idea brought both delight and deep sadness to Ashura's beautiful face.
"Yes," said Yasha contentedly. "And you would be so jealous and so envious you would not even be able to speak!"
"I would not!" said Ashura, moving to drop flat on Yasha's chest so abruptly that Yasha's breath was almost knocked out of him.
"Oh, you would!" said Yasha, and began kissing his companion's swollen lips all over again, playfully rolling them over and over in the pale blossoms until Ashura was laughing with happiness, and every care they'd ever had was momentarily forgotten.
* * *
"So," said Ashura, ravenously devouring the boiled vegetable soup they had cooked for breakfast. "If love allows us to see the God, why does every yogin pride himself on celibacy?"
Yasha finished a long drink of springwater and set his cup down with a sigh. "That is a very good question, Ashura, and it deserves a long answer which I am not qualified to give." He clambered to his feet, catching up Yamato.
"Where are we going?" said Ashura.
Yasha strode away without answering, toward the edge of the cliff overlooking the lake. He stood looking down into its depths as Ashura caught up to him. He fancied he could see the shadows of the lost village in the water. Then he shook himself, putting a hand on Ashura's shoulder. "I would like to stay here, Ashura."
"I like it here. Only... there are no other people."
"How do we know that? We have yet to look."
* * *
They found shelter in a natural cave. This mountainous land was a jumble of rocks and it was not difficult to find such nooks and crannies. There was plenty of firewood, and the wind usually blew the right way, so their faces were not filled with smoke. Up here, Ashura would have to eat roots and potherbs instead of mangoes and jungle fruits, but Yasha did not hear any complaints. On the contrary. Ashura seemed to have had a burden lifted, and smiled more, glancing sideways often. Yasha understood that Ashura had had a great dream fulfilled with only a kiss, and he made sure that he kissed Ashura often!
There were people in this country-- nomads, mostly reindeer-herders. They met a large troupe one day towards the fall season, bringing their beasts south, past the great lake. A handful of these people looked like they might have Yasha clan blood. Had some of Yasha's people escaped...? No, he realized sadly. It was the old nomadic blood that, originally from farther south, had helped to found his clan, mixing with the god blood to make phenomenally strong people.
They were not horrified to see Ashura, who was already, at this time of year, bundled in a silver wolf-pelt. They did not connect the lovely figure before them with the monstrous myths of the folk with whom they traded. Rather, they collectively took Ashura to be a phenomenally beautiful woman. Yasha called "her" Karuna. Ashura spent several days awkwardly turning down proposals despite Yasha's nearly silent presence. When two things became clear-- that Ashura really did not want the attentions of others, and was becoming embarrassed to the point of fright-- Yasha finally put a stop to it with a few well-chosen words to the tribe's chief. When the first snow came and the group finally decided to move on, they cheerfully left Ashura and Yasha with good-luck and fertility wishes, a pile of meat and hides, and a white reindeer for Ashura to ride on.
As the days grew even shorter, the sun failed and a steady wet snow set in. On warmer days the lake was an ocean and water flowed everywhere, as it had after the Deluge, when Varaha, the Boar God, had lifted the earth from the cosmic ocean on His tusk.
Ashura was miserable. Fresh potherbs such as fireweed and wild spinach were only a dream now, and food became an unvarying regimen of boiled roots, spiced with a few dried berries and fruits. Yasha looked on anxiously as his companion's thin body became still thinner. "Ashura, you must eat!" he would say, offering meat or fish; but Ashura still would not touch flesh.
Then came a hard freeze. All the clouds vanished, and the stars shone bright with heavenly fire. One star shone brighter than any other. It rode low on the horizon, due South, and glittered like gold.
Ashura stood shivering at the cave mouth, gazing at it wistfully. When Yasha came silently to drape a second pelt around the trembling shoulders, Ashura said: "My brother lives up there, Yasha. Sometimes I feel as if he is calling to me. I dream..."
Yasha looked for long minutes at the great "star." Unlike the other stars, it did not move across the sky but stayed absolutely still.
"We must go South again, Ashura. My country is no place for you in winter."
* * *
Yasha fashioned a sled out of wooden poles and piled it with what belongings they had-- mainly furs and dried and frozen foodstuffs. Hitching it to the white reindeer, he set Ashura, who was clothed in silver fox fur, sidesaddle on the animal's back. It seemed a good time for travel; the clouds had showed no sign of returning; the sun was bright and the air crystalline and friendly. As they started off, Ashura was visibly more cheerful, chatting about various topics and only falling silent once, when they passed their cherry tree, which now lay leafless and dormant under a drift.
They had gone many miles and evening was drawing on when suddenly Yasha stopped, the reindeer almost butting him with its antlers. The sun was setting; the stars were coming out over the North; but Yasha's native instincts made him scan the landscape thoroughly. Pale clouds were moving over the western sky. He sniffed the air and smelled snow on the wind. He turned to Ashura quickly. "A storm is moving in. It's a very bad one. We must stop here and make a shelter, or we will be caught in it!"
Ashura slid off the reindeer. "How will we make our shelter?"
"We're still by the lake, and it is frozen solid. We will use that." Yasha drew Yamato. With a single easy blow of his Ki he sliced the ice down to the lakebed. Ashura smiled. Here was a use for Shurato which was nonviolent. The golden hilt appeared in midair as Ashura called the blade forth. Together the two quickly began to cut blocks of ice. Yasha kept glancing up at the sky. "We don't have much time. We must cut straight down and use the ice for the walls of our shelter... Ashura?"
Ashura had stopped work and was standing, breath fogging, a dangerous sweat glistening on the fair brow. "I am tired already, Yasha!"
Yasha cursed softly. "It is because you will not eat meat when there is no other food! Here--" He rummaged in his belt-bag, coming up with a chunk of cold cooked reindeer. Ashura turned away. Yasha caught the slim wrist. "Ashura!" His voice was dark, eye showing a glint of red. "How many times have you seen me angry at you?"
"Never," said Ashura in a small voice.
"I will be very angry at you if you do not eat this meat!"
"But Yasha, I cannot! It will bring forth the Black Ashura!"
"If you do not eat, you will only get weaker! Perhaps you will die and leave me alone here?"
Ashura hesitated. Yasha pushed the food at his companion. "Eat!"
Ashura took the meat with a sigh and a reproachful look at Yasha, and began to eat it, slowly. Yasha glanced at the sky for the thousandth time. The air was beginning to feel more restless. He cut down again into the ice, finishing a trench deep enough to shelter them, large enough for them to breathe, yet small enough to hold their body heat --without overmuch melting of the ice. It was an old science, perfected before there was a Yasha clan, and it was exacting. Fortunately the lessons of his youth had not left him. He cut a sleeping platform out of the ice as the first gust of wind blew his long black hair up, fanning it out like a peacock's train. "Ashura!" he said as he worked. "Get the sled and bring it here!"
There was no reply. He turned and his throat missed Shurato's blade by half an inch.
Yasha stood stock still. Ashura had been right; now it was himself that he cursed silently. Meat. Pain, blood, death-- even hints of these things were enough to revive the monster still dormant in Ashura's breast. As the wind blew again and a shower of ice pellets suddenly hit them, Black Ashura laughed. It was a sound he had hoped never to hear again, that he had sworn never to hear again-- deep, inhuman. Mad. Ashura was taunting him, could have killed him already a dozen times over. The golden eyes glowed with feral mindlessness.
Yasha took a sudden yet calculated risk. He whipped Yamato up, knocking aside Shurato's blade. The two swords struck like a thunderclap and the white reindeer, terrified, began to run away with the sled which bore their only hope of survival. Fast as thought Yasha snatched Shurato up, the two swords held close together, singing in his hands as Black Ashura staggered backward. "Ashura! Ashura! ASHURA!"
Suddenly Ashura turned and fled, running after the sled.
Yasha hesitated. Without Shurato, Ashura could not survive or find the way back to their shelter in a snowstorm such as this. But with Shurato, Black Ashura would be dominant as long as the spell cast by the meat lasted, and there could be a much worse fate in store for them than merely freezing to death.
Yasha could not leave their shelter with Yamato. The two swords were linked together, and in this weather Yamato would likely be their only guide back. But if Yasha left Yamato to guide them home, and took only Shurato with him, Black Ashura would remain uncontrolled.
Yasha came to a decision as Ashura and reindeer faded into a featureless field of white. He simply kept Yamato in one hand and Shurato in the other and ran after his companion.
The golden hilt of Shurato writhed in Yasha's grip like a captured snake wanting loose. He held her as tightly as he could, feeling his hand frozen on the knuckles, yet white-hot on the palm. As she continued to struggle against him, he touched her with Yamato's tip and she quieted. The snow was blowing straight in his face and he did not have a free hand to protect his one good eye, which was slowly freezing shut. The tracks he was following were being blown away too quickly. Heart sinking, he staggered on.
He saw the sled first, then the reindeer. Ashura was wrestling it, teeth sunk in its throat. The scene could have been comical. Fortunately the tough hide prevented Ashura from doing much damage; but the few traces of fresh blood were not going to make things any better as far as the presence of Black Ashura was concerned.
Yasha strode around the deer with long steps, dropped Shurato on the ground with Yamato atop her, and grasped Ashura by the nape of the neck. "Ashura!" he shouted above the wind. "If you do not come to your senses we will die!"
Ashura growled like some jungle cat, and for a moment Yasha felt that he held a flaming tiger captive. Deliberately he stepped on both swords and embraced the feral creature as tightly as he could, so tightly the breath was forced from Ashura's body as a wall of snow hit them. For a moment they were engulfed in a blinding flame that leaped back from the surrounding ice crystals so brightly that Yasha's cold-seared eye began to flood with tears that froze nearly instantly on his lashes. He felt Ashura going limp in his arms and immediately released his stranglehold on the thin ribcage. When his companion began to breathe again, he was filled with relief.
Yamato dropped downward by an inch, jolting them. Shurato had vanished. Ashura was regaining consciousness. "Yasha...? Yasha!"
Black Ashura was fading. Yasha wasted no more time but bent to grab Yamato and felt his way to the sled, fumbling at the knotted ropes that held the pelts in place. He did not want to cut the precious rope except as a last resort. Ashura clung to him. "Yasha! I am sorry...!"
"There is no time to be sorry! Help me, Ashura! I am snowblind!"
But instead of the quick assistance he expected, he heard Ashura gasp in astonishment. "What is it?" he cried, trying to look but unable to see.
Ashura's voice was soft, uncertain. "Ten-- Tenou?"
"Ashura! You are dreaming! Help me!"
He felt Ashura straighten boldly, pushing away from him but grabbing his hand. "Yasha. We must follow Tenou!"
"He is not here!"
"You can't see, Yasha! He is just ahead, waving at us! Come on!"
There was no time left for any hesitation. Yasha sheathed Yamato with his free hand and took the reindeer's bridle, letting Ashura pull them on. If it was only a hallucination, Yasha and Ashura would die together painlessly. The world would be safe from Black Ashura. It would be all right. Yasha smiled without bitterness as he blindly followed his only beloved, and his death. He focused on the warmth of the hand in his, the memories of their short summer in the North. Ashura's happy laughter as they rolled over and over in cherry blossoms and meadow flowers. The kiss of the God. No nightmares. It had been good.
Then Ashura let go of his hand and Yasha fell straight down, landing on snow-covered ice and nearly breaking his bones. He had released the reindeer reflexively just as he'd fallen, narrowly avoiding bringing the animal down on top of him. He sat up, unbelieving, feeling the walls of the shelter he had cut in the lake ice. "Ashura!"
"I am sorry, Yasha!" came the other's voice, from above him. "I came on it without seeing it!"
"Here is Yamato! Cut the deer from the sled! Put the sled across the hole, then get down here!"
"I will! I'll hurry!"
Yasha sat still and anxious, listening intently. He heard Ashura working; heard the snap of the reindeer's traces as they were cut; heard Ashura's voice faintly, talking to self-- or to someone else up there. Finally he heard Ashura scrambling down to him and they sat huddled together, wrapped in one anothers' arms. "Ashura! You led us back!"
"No." Ashura's teeth were chattering. "No, it was my brother!"
"But how could it be? How could it be, Ashura?"
"Tenou spoke to me. He said he had been watching over us. He said he wanted us to live."
Yasha said nothing more, only pushing his face into Ashura's hair, drawing deep breaths of that familiar sweet scent. Above them, the storm howled on, burying them under a veil of ghostly white.