Two Wings
A Rurouni Kenshin fanfic
by Peregrine Vision
5 - Beginning to Journey
If there had been nothing to do but stay in the house, and no one to see but Sano-san, Soujiro might have found things too uncomfortable to tolerate. Instead, he was kept busy by a number of things.
One of these was learning the necessary Cantonese to get by every day: "how much", "which way is...", "yes", "no", "help", "my friend is the chief of police" and other useful phrases. Sano-san, with a twinkle in his eye, offered to teach Soujiro swear words as well, but Soujiro gracefully declined.
Another one was taking lessons in Chinese cooking from Liu Chen. Apparently it wasn't enough to know how to cook; you had to know how to manage your time, budget your money and argue a market vendor down. And those vendors were *frightening*. Liu Chen never raised his voice, but the butcher they were buying from on one occasion grew so agitated that Soujiro was sure the man would take his enormous meat cleaver to the both of them. Never mind that one was of the famous Shao Lin and the other had been a secret terror of Japan.
Housekeeping was easy; Soujiro was used to it. Sano-san was surprisingly good at it too--when he was feeling motivated. Mostly he wasn't.
So Soujiro's days were comfortably occupied.
Nights were another matter. Fortunately the days usually tired him out, and he would fall into his futon already half asleep. But after a quiet day, when there hadn't been much to do and Liu Chen hadn't paid a visit, Soujiro would lie still in his bed, feeling memories flow over his skin like water, or fire....or human hands.
Funny that he remembered so many things not so much with his mind as with his skin. The burning welts of childhood beatings on his back, Shishio-san's searing hands on his body, the steel wind from Himura-san's swordstrokes. But the ones that made him most uneasy were the freshest.
Sano-san's hands, and mouth, on him. Sano-san, hard and strong and *large*, inside of him. The first shy kiss, at the tub of dishes, and the breath on his neck afterward.
//I don't hate you.//
Soujiro had realized what it was about Sano-san that drew him so powerfully. Sano-san was everything Soujiro wished for most. He was carefree and open-hearted; he seemed to have left long years of hate and horror (no less traumatizing than Soujiro's) behind. He was brave and fiercely loyal, a great fighter who loved fighting only for its own sake--for the joy of the challenge, not the power of the kill. He was loving and kind and very gentle, in a clumsy way. Sometimes Sano-san would fall asleep outside, or on the floor, or the stairs, or...just anywhere, really. That took trust: also a lot of self-confidence. Two more things Soujiro wished he had.
These introspective nights were rare, but no less painful for that. There was no question of Sano-san ever inviting Soujiro back into his bed, not after the first disaster. Things between them were a little strained for a few days, but the cloud soon blew over. Still, that brief fit of lust had left a deep impression on Soujiro.
He wanted more. He wanted it to be slower next time, more passionate and less reckless. He wanted to curl into Sano-san's comforting warmth afterward, something he'd never done with anyone before. He wanted to fall asleep in the bigger man's arms, and wake up to those laughing brown eyes.
But "next time" was no longer possible. Not after last time.
Thoughts like these tortured Soujiro during the wide-awake nights. Sometimes it even happened in daylight, when he was particularly close to Sano-san physically, or caught him in some unknowing pose of exuberance or unusual pensiveness. Then every fiber of Soujiro's tattered soul would yearn toward the other man, the very *alive*ness of him, the warmth and the solidity. But Soujiro swallowed these feelings and forced his face into its usual pleasant smile.
All in all, though, it was a good life. They often had little dinners together in the evenings (although with Liu Chen cooking the dinners were hardly *little*) and exchanged stories. The dinner customarily started with Liu Chen arriving early at the house to prepare the food. Soujiro helped him, since Sano-san usually left the police house late.
Another informal custom was for Sano-san and Liu Chen to spar a little before dinner. Not as violently as the first time, of course--Liu Chen could always be relied on to remind Sano-san of the presence of guests in the house. Soujiro came to look forward to the play-fights, actually laughing and applauding when they were over.
Liu Chen always won, of course. Sano-san grumbled and growled about this, but it was clear how much he admired his short Chinese friend. Soujiro did too--it pleased him to be able to admire someone's martial skills without being threatened by them.
One afternoon Liu Chen and Soujiro teamed up for a spectacular meal--a Chinese/Japanese cultural combination, Liu Chen gleefully named it. There was every kind of seafood imaginable, in a variety of sauces, plus chicken, meat, noodles and the ever-present fried rice. Soujiro skewered vegetables and chicken parts and grilled them for yakitori. Liu Chen made crunchy egg noodles and seafood with vegetables in a thick sticky sauce. Rice balls stuffed with dried fish were grilled as well, and rolled in sheets of seaweed. Sweet-and-sour pork was offset by spicy jellyfish strips. And there were three different kinds of tea, Soujiro's favorite being the clear yellow roasted-barley tea--which could be taken in hot cups, or cooled with ice sent down from the mountain monasteries to the humble chapter house where Liu Chen lived with his fellows.
They flopped down on the back steps and splashed themselves with cold water from a bucket, then lay back spread-eagled, like children after hard play. Soujiro couldn't stop laughing.
"I can't wait! Do you think he'll be surprised?"
Liu Chen was laughing too. His smile was amazing; it was a young grin that lit his face and made him look ten years younger. "I hope so. Or we will have worked like serving women for nothing!"
Soujiro smiled up at the darkening sky. He felt full--not in his stomach, but in his chest, a feeling which swelled inside him and made his mouth stretch of its own accord. "I hope so too." Then he turned his head to look at Liu Chen. "Why are we doing this, again?"
That made the little Chinese man fairly explode with laughter. "I do not believe you! You did everything without even asking what you were doing! Crazy Japanese boy! You are like a--a sheep!"
"I am not!" In the past, Soujiro would have cut off his head for the remark. But the past was a different world, one he was learning to forget, and the thought of being a sheep was only funny.
Besides, he probably couldn't have managed to cut Liu Chen's head off anyway. Not the way the other man fought.
The little black eyes twinkled as they met Soujiro's. "Not what? Crazy, or a sheep?"
"Both!" Soujiro sat up, dipped a hand into the bucket and threw the handful of water at Liu Chen, who laughed again. "Now tell me!"
"You really didn't know?" Liu Chen sat up, grinning. "This is the day I met Xian Ho. Or he met me. Or rather, fell on me."
"He WHAT?"
But Liu Chen was off again and could not speak. When he finally got his breath, he shook his pigtailed head. "I think our friend should tell you himself, tonight. Now we need to have new clothes. We smell like food. He may eat us by mistake; you know how he is."
That gave Soujiro another laughing fit as he headed for his little screened-off "room" to change.
* * *
Sano-san charged in through the door with his usual greeting.
"Argh! Come on, prayer-bead-rattler, I'm ready for..." He stopped and blinked, amazed, at Liu Chen and Soujiro standing by the table, which was so piled with food it almost seemed to groan under the weight.
"Omedetou, Sano-san!" Soujiro burst out. Admittedly, "congratulations" wasn't entirely the appropriate greeting, but it was the only thing he knew to say, and he felt like shouting *something*.
"Uh..." Sano-san blinked. "It's my birthday already?"
"Er, no." Soujiro blushed a little, embarrassed.
"Silly son of a backward farmer," Liu Chen teased. "I see you have already forgotten the day of your first humiliating defeat at my hands."
"Eh?" Then cognizance dawned in Sano-san's face. "You mean--a year already?"
Liu Chen grinned.
To Soujiro's surprise, Sano-san paused for a moment. Just for that moment, a look came over his face that was not familiar. Regret? Uncertainty? Soujiro was good at reading people, but only in battle. He had never had Himura-san's talent for reading people's emotions.
Then the look vanished and a huge grin took its place. "Well, that's something to celebrate, all right!" roared Sano-san. "I just hope you brought something to drink, 'cause we're partying hard tonight!"
Chinese dinner was not the structured ritual Soujiro was used to. He liked just loading his plate and eating everything on it as he pleased. Sometimes it seemed as if Sano-san tried to eat everything at once.
"Mph, mrf, mmm." Sano-san swallowed and took a gulp of barley tea. "Pass me the onigiri, willya, Souji?"
Soujiro blushed again at the nickname, especially when Liu Chen raised an eyebrow. But he held the plate of rice balls firmly. "Wait," he said. "First, I want to hear this story. I asked Liu Chen how you met, but he refused to tell me."
Sano-san rolled his eyes. "He would," he said, nudging the little Chinese man with an elbow. "He likes acting modest with guests, but he never lets me forget how much better he is than me." He nudged Liu Chen again. "So far."
"Will you tell me what happened?"
Sano-san smiled at him, and Soujiro felt the most curious sensation, as if something small with wings was trapped beneath his breastbone.
"Really wanna know, huh? Funny..." The smile changed into his usual arrogant grin, and he leaned forward and grabbed the plate of onigiri. "Food first. A good story always needs feeding."
Feigning reluctance, Soujiro let Sano-san take the plate, then loaded a fresh heap of sauce-smothered noodles into his own bowl and leaned a little forward, ready for the story.
"Remember I told you I was up in Mongolia?" Sano-san bit the onigiri almost in half. "Mmm, um. This's really good. You made it?"
"Yes, yes." Soujiro was getting impatient. "You were there for the fighting, I remember. Go on, please."
"I wasn't kidding, either. Those Huns know how to fight. No technique, but you've gotta be fast on your feet or get a fist in your ear. And that's if they like you."
"What happens if they don't like you?" asked Soujiro, and took a mouthful of noodle.
Sano-san and Liu Chen both chuckled. "Then it's a sword in your guts for you. If the blow doesn't kill you instantly, the rust on it will--eventually."
"They sound like practical people," Soujiro said, nodding his head in approval.
"Yeah, they are. And they liked me. Lived with them for a while; pitched tents, rode one of their hairy horses, wore their clothes too." Sano-san grinned through a mouth full of squid and fried rice, and took a gulp of tea. "I smelled just like one of them; you couldn't tell us apart."
"That was the problem," Liu Chen interrupted, laughing. Soujiro blinked at him.
"Shut up, you. I'm telling the story."
It was amazing how Sano-san ate and talked at the same time. Soujiro was also stuffing himself (with rather more decorum of course), but it seemed as if Sano-san didn't even stop to breathe. He emptied his bowl straight into his mouth, shoving everything in with his chopsticks, then refilled it with a little of everything on the table. Liu Chen rolled his eyes at the hungry street fighter.
"You can see where he learned his manners as well."
"Nah," disclaimed Sano-san, nabbing an errant shrimp that had fallen from the bowl. "I was *born* eating."
Soujiro laughed. He could well believe it.
"Anyway, we were going through this village to trade--the tribes make their own food, but sometimes they like to pick up pretty things. Woven cloth, trinkets, things like that, y'know? Well, usually they rob rich travellers, but they're mostly friendly with the villages. More lucrative business. Like you said, Souji, practical people."
Soujiro smiled. He was beginning to love that name.
"Well, when we got there, things were a bit different. There was this fuss going on. People dressed up like the Huns had been selling...stuff."
"Stuff?" echoed Soujiro, chopsticks halfway to his mouth.
Sano-san's eyes, for a moment, lingered on him. Not straight in the face; it was with a hot, nervous feeling in his belly that Soujiro realized Sano-san was looking at his *mouth*. Every pore on his skin prickled.
Sano-san hastily stuffed something small with tentacles into his own mouth and went on. "Well, it was...drugs. Opium. And it was a...funny kind of opium; you smoked it too, but it was a sort of powder instead of the big caky chunks that opium usually comes in." Sano-san frowned, as if recollecting something unpleasant.
"How did you know it was opium?" asked Soujiro. "There are other drugs that come into China."
Sano-san looked grim. "I knew," he said darkly. "A...friend of mine used to make it."
A...friend. That pause was enough to chill Soujiro. He knew full well what it meant. Yumi-san would use it all the time, talking of men she'd had, or who'd had her. Only she had always paused deliberately, a little twisted smile on her painted lips.
He took a deep breath. //None of my business,// he told himself firmly. //It's none of my business.//
"Of course," shrugged Sano-san, "she became my friend *after* she stopped making it. But that's another story." He gulped down some noodles and refilled his bowl of mixed rice. "So they were dressing up like the Huns, right, and the people from the village weren't too friendly with the real Huns when they got there." He coughed. "I, er, took care of it."
Soujiro's eyes widened. "I am sure you did."
Sano-san coughed again. "Well, at least the Huns' reputation was cleared, but the villagers couldn't handle the group who was selling the stuff. So I...had to chase them down the mountain."
"You had to do nothing," said Liu Chen, smiling. "You chased them down the mountain because you were bored."
"Yeah, I guess," said Sano-san, embarrassed. Then he smiled. "Yeah, I did. I wanted a change." He took a draught of cold barley tea, smacking his lips appreciatively. "I wanted a cause again. I wanted to be fighting *for* something again. I wanted to wake up in the morning and say, 'Let's get those guys!'"
Unconsciously, Soujiro let out a breath. He felt overcome. Sano-san was beside him, being so very...well, so very *himself*, and he was right *there*, and just those two things were waking all these mad fluttering creatures in Soujiro's insides. It seemed very unfair. No fluttering creatures seemed to be bothering Sano-san.
"Well, I caught up with them easily enough; they weren't expecting people to be tailing them, see. But I wasn't the only one after them, although I got there first."
"They had been looting the monasteries around the mountains," Liu Chen said, taking up the story--apparently forgetting his earlier shyness. "Most of those places were quiet retreats with peaceful inhabitants who had never needed to fight. They could not defend themselves, and so they sent word to us, asking for help."
Soujiro nodded, fascinated. It was like an adventure story: heroes and justice and the defence of innocents. He supposed that Himura-san's story was the same, and realized with a pang that if such a story was to be told, he and Shishio-san and the others would be the evil ones.
"We posted scouts to watch for the bandits' approach. They came back, reporting that the false Huns were riding hard toward our monastery. We set out to meet them."
"That was when the shit really started to fly," Sano-san said.
"It was all his fault, of course," said Liu Chen serenely. Soujiro laughed at the ensuing splutter of tea.
"What! You..."
"Now, Xian Ho, do you categorically deny that you were right behind the bandits?"
"No, but--"
"And that you were dressed like them, riding a similar horse, and, I am sorry to say, smelling much the same?"
"Hey--!"
"Do you also deny that you made a flying leap for the leader of the group, but overshot entirely, and tackled the monk who was at the head of the oncoming defensive party instead?"
Soujiro had to half twist and grasp the back of his chair, he was laughing so hard. "He didn't!"
"Awful, awful aim," said Liu Chen, gravely shaking his head so his queue swung back and forth. "Shameful."
"And that monk was you?"
"Of course."
Soujiro doubled over, tears springing to his eyes. Sano-san poked him with his chopsticks. "It's not that funny!" Soujiro could only clutch his stomach and laugh harder in response.
Liu Chen shook out his sleeves and crossed his arms. "It took quite a while to get things straightened out. It is said that Shaolin have the talent to spot a pure heart just by sight. That is not true. Even if it were, I would have had trouble seeing through all the layers of dirt!" He ducked as Sano-san swatted at his head.
"That was a good fight you gave me," grinned Sano-san. "First time I'd lost a fistfight in a while."
"But you didn't kill him," Soujiro said to Liu Chen, who looked shocked.
"Of course not! We never kill unless there is no choice, and in that case the one who has killed must spend a month fasting and meditating to discover what can be done to heal his karma. Luckily Xian Ho was resilient enough to enlighten me on his position regarding the bandits."
"Yeah," interjected Sano-san. "I just had breath enough left to call him an idiot for letting them get away."
"And then he collapsed in the snow," laughed Liu Chen. His boyish smile faded. "But in my distraction, I had misled my brothers. They were only able to catch a few bandits, and the ringleaders escaped. After Xian Ho recovered, we tracked them to Canton, and have been waiting for a chance to catch them since."
"Your little adventure was a stroke of luck for us, Souji," Sano-san said, grinning over his bowl. "If you hadn't raised the alarm, they'd have been able to drop off their shipment and carry another one of raw opium back to Japan. As it is, they'll have to rearrange all their plans. We arrested several of them and got names. Kiyooka got away, but I got a good look at his face." Sano-san looked grim. "He's not gonna escape me next time."
"Us," said Liu Chen, smiling. Sano-san's expression brightened, and he nodded.
Soujiro finished his tea and poured another cup. He held it up to his two friends. They raised theirs in silent reply.
* * *
Liu Chen had gone home; he had strict hours to keep, according to his discipline. Sano-san had washed the dishes in return for the dinner, and Soujiro was just getting ready for bed, when he noticed that Sano-san had not gone upstairs.
"Sano-san?"
The tall man was sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands. "A year," he said. "More than a year ago I sent them a letter...I said I'd be home...soon." He lifted his face and stared at, no, *through*, Soujiro.
"But so what? What's there for me when I do go back? His wife, his kids, his house. His life. Not mine. Not...ours..."
A nameless ache shivered through Soujiro's chest. His throat tight, he stared helplessly at Sano-san.
"Sano-san..." he ventured, coming shyly toward the older man, "you...you have your own life, don't you? You have a place here, and you're important to the Cantonese police. You also have many friends. Himura-san was a part of your life, but only a part...right?"
He lowered himself tentatively onto the stair a few steps below where Sano-san was sitting. Just close enough to show he was serious, but not close enough to touch. He didn't trust himself that far yet.
"He was an important part of your life," he pressed on, "...but he cannot have been *all* of your life. Because you are still here. Is this not true?"
"I...guess," murmured Sano-san.
"Then your life is not his either, right?"
"Yeah, it's not." Sano-san chuckled a little. "Definitely not."
"But even with your separate lives--you are still friends. And friends want to be with their friends."
Sano-san lifted his head. His eyes narrowed a tiny bit at Soujiro. "What's your point, Souji?"
Soujiro cleared his throat. "I am saying, maybe Himura-san misses you too. He may be married and raising a family, but I am sure he wants to see you and know what you've been doing and what you've seen when you were away. Maybe," he essayed a small smile, "maybe he even wants to go out drinking."
Sano-san looked at him for a long time, until Soujiro lowered his eyes. He felt naked under that gaze, and unhappy.
Then Sano-san smiled. He didn't often smile; he had a big cheerful grin that sometimes made him look silly. This was a smile that brought out the shine in his chocolate eyes, and gave his face a maturity that was beautiful beyond words to Soujiro.
Soujiro felt heat flood out from his chest, spreading up his neck and down his belly and even his legs, until he was a warm scarlet all over. Surely Sano-san would see; why couldn't he even control his own body anymore?
"C'mere, you," said Sano-san, holding out an arm to him. Completely shamefaced, Soujiro crept meekly into the embrace. Sano-san put the other arm round him and he snuggled into the larger man's chest.
Sano-san leaned his shaggy head against Soujiro's. "Thanks, So-ji."
"You're welcome, Sano-san," Soujiro whispered back, his heart thumping. So-ji? That was the shortened version of Sano-san's casual "Souji", which was only partly a nickname. This sounded more like a love-name, and it made the blood rush to his head. Was this what it was like to be drunk?
He felt a finger under his chin, tilting it gently upwards. He looked, surprised, into Sano-san's smiling eyes for a second, and then Sano-san kissed him.
This kiss was different from the rough, fevered liplocks they had exchanged. This one was slow, and intense, and it seemed to draw out all the feelings inside him like a wire from a molten chunk of metal. Sano-san's tongue moved in Soujiro's mouth like a languid snake, and a delicious thrill shivered down his spine.
After a long, mindless moment, Sano-san broke the kiss. Soujiro's breath hitched; he wanted so much more, and he knew Sano-san understood his need. Those brown eyes were so deep, searching his own.
Then something went wrong; the other man's gaze slid away, Sano-san disentangled himself from Soujiro, and with a muttered "Good night," went upstairs.
Soujiro was left on the stairs.
He remembered how he'd felt several years ago, lying on the destroyed tatami floor at Himura-san's feet, his clothes and his lifelong beliefs torn to shreds. He felt as lost now as he had then.
He realized that Sano-san was actually being gentlemanly. He had had Soujiro in his arms, and chose not to use him as he had that other time. He had decided that making Soujiro a substitute for Himura-san was not the honorable thing to do. So Sano-san had done the honorable thing.
And it had made no difference. Not to the small vicious animal that was beginning to grow inside Soujiro. As he made his way back to his futon, as he curled forlornly in his blankets, Soujiro could feel it chewing away at his insides. He shut his eyes hard and curled up even more tightly. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could disappear.
//I talked to him about his life. But what about *my* life? What is there for *me* to live for?//
-end 5-
5 - Beginning to Journey
If there had been nothing to do but stay in the house, and no one to see but Sano-san, Soujiro might have found things too uncomfortable to tolerate. Instead, he was kept busy by a number of things.
One of these was learning the necessary Cantonese to get by every day: "how much", "which way is...", "yes", "no", "help", "my friend is the chief of police" and other useful phrases. Sano-san, with a twinkle in his eye, offered to teach Soujiro swear words as well, but Soujiro gracefully declined.
Another one was taking lessons in Chinese cooking from Liu Chen. Apparently it wasn't enough to know how to cook; you had to know how to manage your time, budget your money and argue a market vendor down. And those vendors were *frightening*. Liu Chen never raised his voice, but the butcher they were buying from on one occasion grew so agitated that Soujiro was sure the man would take his enormous meat cleaver to the both of them. Never mind that one was of the famous Shao Lin and the other had been a secret terror of Japan.
Housekeeping was easy; Soujiro was used to it. Sano-san was surprisingly good at it too--when he was feeling motivated. Mostly he wasn't.
So Soujiro's days were comfortably occupied.
Nights were another matter. Fortunately the days usually tired him out, and he would fall into his futon already half asleep. But after a quiet day, when there hadn't been much to do and Liu Chen hadn't paid a visit, Soujiro would lie still in his bed, feeling memories flow over his skin like water, or fire....or human hands.
Funny that he remembered so many things not so much with his mind as with his skin. The burning welts of childhood beatings on his back, Shishio-san's searing hands on his body, the steel wind from Himura-san's swordstrokes. But the ones that made him most uneasy were the freshest.
Sano-san's hands, and mouth, on him. Sano-san, hard and strong and *large*, inside of him. The first shy kiss, at the tub of dishes, and the breath on his neck afterward.
//I don't hate you.//
Soujiro had realized what it was about Sano-san that drew him so powerfully. Sano-san was everything Soujiro wished for most. He was carefree and open-hearted; he seemed to have left long years of hate and horror (no less traumatizing than Soujiro's) behind. He was brave and fiercely loyal, a great fighter who loved fighting only for its own sake--for the joy of the challenge, not the power of the kill. He was loving and kind and very gentle, in a clumsy way. Sometimes Sano-san would fall asleep outside, or on the floor, or the stairs, or...just anywhere, really. That took trust: also a lot of self-confidence. Two more things Soujiro wished he had.
These introspective nights were rare, but no less painful for that. There was no question of Sano-san ever inviting Soujiro back into his bed, not after the first disaster. Things between them were a little strained for a few days, but the cloud soon blew over. Still, that brief fit of lust had left a deep impression on Soujiro.
He wanted more. He wanted it to be slower next time, more passionate and less reckless. He wanted to curl into Sano-san's comforting warmth afterward, something he'd never done with anyone before. He wanted to fall asleep in the bigger man's arms, and wake up to those laughing brown eyes.
But "next time" was no longer possible. Not after last time.
Thoughts like these tortured Soujiro during the wide-awake nights. Sometimes it even happened in daylight, when he was particularly close to Sano-san physically, or caught him in some unknowing pose of exuberance or unusual pensiveness. Then every fiber of Soujiro's tattered soul would yearn toward the other man, the very *alive*ness of him, the warmth and the solidity. But Soujiro swallowed these feelings and forced his face into its usual pleasant smile.
All in all, though, it was a good life. They often had little dinners together in the evenings (although with Liu Chen cooking the dinners were hardly *little*) and exchanged stories. The dinner customarily started with Liu Chen arriving early at the house to prepare the food. Soujiro helped him, since Sano-san usually left the police house late.
Another informal custom was for Sano-san and Liu Chen to spar a little before dinner. Not as violently as the first time, of course--Liu Chen could always be relied on to remind Sano-san of the presence of guests in the house. Soujiro came to look forward to the play-fights, actually laughing and applauding when they were over.
Liu Chen always won, of course. Sano-san grumbled and growled about this, but it was clear how much he admired his short Chinese friend. Soujiro did too--it pleased him to be able to admire someone's martial skills without being threatened by them.
One afternoon Liu Chen and Soujiro teamed up for a spectacular meal--a Chinese/Japanese cultural combination, Liu Chen gleefully named it. There was every kind of seafood imaginable, in a variety of sauces, plus chicken, meat, noodles and the ever-present fried rice. Soujiro skewered vegetables and chicken parts and grilled them for yakitori. Liu Chen made crunchy egg noodles and seafood with vegetables in a thick sticky sauce. Rice balls stuffed with dried fish were grilled as well, and rolled in sheets of seaweed. Sweet-and-sour pork was offset by spicy jellyfish strips. And there were three different kinds of tea, Soujiro's favorite being the clear yellow roasted-barley tea--which could be taken in hot cups, or cooled with ice sent down from the mountain monasteries to the humble chapter house where Liu Chen lived with his fellows.
They flopped down on the back steps and splashed themselves with cold water from a bucket, then lay back spread-eagled, like children after hard play. Soujiro couldn't stop laughing.
"I can't wait! Do you think he'll be surprised?"
Liu Chen was laughing too. His smile was amazing; it was a young grin that lit his face and made him look ten years younger. "I hope so. Or we will have worked like serving women for nothing!"
Soujiro smiled up at the darkening sky. He felt full--not in his stomach, but in his chest, a feeling which swelled inside him and made his mouth stretch of its own accord. "I hope so too." Then he turned his head to look at Liu Chen. "Why are we doing this, again?"
That made the little Chinese man fairly explode with laughter. "I do not believe you! You did everything without even asking what you were doing! Crazy Japanese boy! You are like a--a sheep!"
"I am not!" In the past, Soujiro would have cut off his head for the remark. But the past was a different world, one he was learning to forget, and the thought of being a sheep was only funny.
Besides, he probably couldn't have managed to cut Liu Chen's head off anyway. Not the way the other man fought.
The little black eyes twinkled as they met Soujiro's. "Not what? Crazy, or a sheep?"
"Both!" Soujiro sat up, dipped a hand into the bucket and threw the handful of water at Liu Chen, who laughed again. "Now tell me!"
"You really didn't know?" Liu Chen sat up, grinning. "This is the day I met Xian Ho. Or he met me. Or rather, fell on me."
"He WHAT?"
But Liu Chen was off again and could not speak. When he finally got his breath, he shook his pigtailed head. "I think our friend should tell you himself, tonight. Now we need to have new clothes. We smell like food. He may eat us by mistake; you know how he is."
That gave Soujiro another laughing fit as he headed for his little screened-off "room" to change.
* * *
Sano-san charged in through the door with his usual greeting.
"Argh! Come on, prayer-bead-rattler, I'm ready for..." He stopped and blinked, amazed, at Liu Chen and Soujiro standing by the table, which was so piled with food it almost seemed to groan under the weight.
"Omedetou, Sano-san!" Soujiro burst out. Admittedly, "congratulations" wasn't entirely the appropriate greeting, but it was the only thing he knew to say, and he felt like shouting *something*.
"Uh..." Sano-san blinked. "It's my birthday already?"
"Er, no." Soujiro blushed a little, embarrassed.
"Silly son of a backward farmer," Liu Chen teased. "I see you have already forgotten the day of your first humiliating defeat at my hands."
"Eh?" Then cognizance dawned in Sano-san's face. "You mean--a year already?"
Liu Chen grinned.
To Soujiro's surprise, Sano-san paused for a moment. Just for that moment, a look came over his face that was not familiar. Regret? Uncertainty? Soujiro was good at reading people, but only in battle. He had never had Himura-san's talent for reading people's emotions.
Then the look vanished and a huge grin took its place. "Well, that's something to celebrate, all right!" roared Sano-san. "I just hope you brought something to drink, 'cause we're partying hard tonight!"
Chinese dinner was not the structured ritual Soujiro was used to. He liked just loading his plate and eating everything on it as he pleased. Sometimes it seemed as if Sano-san tried to eat everything at once.
"Mph, mrf, mmm." Sano-san swallowed and took a gulp of barley tea. "Pass me the onigiri, willya, Souji?"
Soujiro blushed again at the nickname, especially when Liu Chen raised an eyebrow. But he held the plate of rice balls firmly. "Wait," he said. "First, I want to hear this story. I asked Liu Chen how you met, but he refused to tell me."
Sano-san rolled his eyes. "He would," he said, nudging the little Chinese man with an elbow. "He likes acting modest with guests, but he never lets me forget how much better he is than me." He nudged Liu Chen again. "So far."
"Will you tell me what happened?"
Sano-san smiled at him, and Soujiro felt the most curious sensation, as if something small with wings was trapped beneath his breastbone.
"Really wanna know, huh? Funny..." The smile changed into his usual arrogant grin, and he leaned forward and grabbed the plate of onigiri. "Food first. A good story always needs feeding."
Feigning reluctance, Soujiro let Sano-san take the plate, then loaded a fresh heap of sauce-smothered noodles into his own bowl and leaned a little forward, ready for the story.
"Remember I told you I was up in Mongolia?" Sano-san bit the onigiri almost in half. "Mmm, um. This's really good. You made it?"
"Yes, yes." Soujiro was getting impatient. "You were there for the fighting, I remember. Go on, please."
"I wasn't kidding, either. Those Huns know how to fight. No technique, but you've gotta be fast on your feet or get a fist in your ear. And that's if they like you."
"What happens if they don't like you?" asked Soujiro, and took a mouthful of noodle.
Sano-san and Liu Chen both chuckled. "Then it's a sword in your guts for you. If the blow doesn't kill you instantly, the rust on it will--eventually."
"They sound like practical people," Soujiro said, nodding his head in approval.
"Yeah, they are. And they liked me. Lived with them for a while; pitched tents, rode one of their hairy horses, wore their clothes too." Sano-san grinned through a mouth full of squid and fried rice, and took a gulp of tea. "I smelled just like one of them; you couldn't tell us apart."
"That was the problem," Liu Chen interrupted, laughing. Soujiro blinked at him.
"Shut up, you. I'm telling the story."
It was amazing how Sano-san ate and talked at the same time. Soujiro was also stuffing himself (with rather more decorum of course), but it seemed as if Sano-san didn't even stop to breathe. He emptied his bowl straight into his mouth, shoving everything in with his chopsticks, then refilled it with a little of everything on the table. Liu Chen rolled his eyes at the hungry street fighter.
"You can see where he learned his manners as well."
"Nah," disclaimed Sano-san, nabbing an errant shrimp that had fallen from the bowl. "I was *born* eating."
Soujiro laughed. He could well believe it.
"Anyway, we were going through this village to trade--the tribes make their own food, but sometimes they like to pick up pretty things. Woven cloth, trinkets, things like that, y'know? Well, usually they rob rich travellers, but they're mostly friendly with the villages. More lucrative business. Like you said, Souji, practical people."
Soujiro smiled. He was beginning to love that name.
"Well, when we got there, things were a bit different. There was this fuss going on. People dressed up like the Huns had been selling...stuff."
"Stuff?" echoed Soujiro, chopsticks halfway to his mouth.
Sano-san's eyes, for a moment, lingered on him. Not straight in the face; it was with a hot, nervous feeling in his belly that Soujiro realized Sano-san was looking at his *mouth*. Every pore on his skin prickled.
Sano-san hastily stuffed something small with tentacles into his own mouth and went on. "Well, it was...drugs. Opium. And it was a...funny kind of opium; you smoked it too, but it was a sort of powder instead of the big caky chunks that opium usually comes in." Sano-san frowned, as if recollecting something unpleasant.
"How did you know it was opium?" asked Soujiro. "There are other drugs that come into China."
Sano-san looked grim. "I knew," he said darkly. "A...friend of mine used to make it."
A...friend. That pause was enough to chill Soujiro. He knew full well what it meant. Yumi-san would use it all the time, talking of men she'd had, or who'd had her. Only she had always paused deliberately, a little twisted smile on her painted lips.
He took a deep breath. //None of my business,// he told himself firmly. //It's none of my business.//
"Of course," shrugged Sano-san, "she became my friend *after* she stopped making it. But that's another story." He gulped down some noodles and refilled his bowl of mixed rice. "So they were dressing up like the Huns, right, and the people from the village weren't too friendly with the real Huns when they got there." He coughed. "I, er, took care of it."
Soujiro's eyes widened. "I am sure you did."
Sano-san coughed again. "Well, at least the Huns' reputation was cleared, but the villagers couldn't handle the group who was selling the stuff. So I...had to chase them down the mountain."
"You had to do nothing," said Liu Chen, smiling. "You chased them down the mountain because you were bored."
"Yeah, I guess," said Sano-san, embarrassed. Then he smiled. "Yeah, I did. I wanted a change." He took a draught of cold barley tea, smacking his lips appreciatively. "I wanted a cause again. I wanted to be fighting *for* something again. I wanted to wake up in the morning and say, 'Let's get those guys!'"
Unconsciously, Soujiro let out a breath. He felt overcome. Sano-san was beside him, being so very...well, so very *himself*, and he was right *there*, and just those two things were waking all these mad fluttering creatures in Soujiro's insides. It seemed very unfair. No fluttering creatures seemed to be bothering Sano-san.
"Well, I caught up with them easily enough; they weren't expecting people to be tailing them, see. But I wasn't the only one after them, although I got there first."
"They had been looting the monasteries around the mountains," Liu Chen said, taking up the story--apparently forgetting his earlier shyness. "Most of those places were quiet retreats with peaceful inhabitants who had never needed to fight. They could not defend themselves, and so they sent word to us, asking for help."
Soujiro nodded, fascinated. It was like an adventure story: heroes and justice and the defence of innocents. He supposed that Himura-san's story was the same, and realized with a pang that if such a story was to be told, he and Shishio-san and the others would be the evil ones.
"We posted scouts to watch for the bandits' approach. They came back, reporting that the false Huns were riding hard toward our monastery. We set out to meet them."
"That was when the shit really started to fly," Sano-san said.
"It was all his fault, of course," said Liu Chen serenely. Soujiro laughed at the ensuing splutter of tea.
"What! You..."
"Now, Xian Ho, do you categorically deny that you were right behind the bandits?"
"No, but--"
"And that you were dressed like them, riding a similar horse, and, I am sorry to say, smelling much the same?"
"Hey--!"
"Do you also deny that you made a flying leap for the leader of the group, but overshot entirely, and tackled the monk who was at the head of the oncoming defensive party instead?"
Soujiro had to half twist and grasp the back of his chair, he was laughing so hard. "He didn't!"
"Awful, awful aim," said Liu Chen, gravely shaking his head so his queue swung back and forth. "Shameful."
"And that monk was you?"
"Of course."
Soujiro doubled over, tears springing to his eyes. Sano-san poked him with his chopsticks. "It's not that funny!" Soujiro could only clutch his stomach and laugh harder in response.
Liu Chen shook out his sleeves and crossed his arms. "It took quite a while to get things straightened out. It is said that Shaolin have the talent to spot a pure heart just by sight. That is not true. Even if it were, I would have had trouble seeing through all the layers of dirt!" He ducked as Sano-san swatted at his head.
"That was a good fight you gave me," grinned Sano-san. "First time I'd lost a fistfight in a while."
"But you didn't kill him," Soujiro said to Liu Chen, who looked shocked.
"Of course not! We never kill unless there is no choice, and in that case the one who has killed must spend a month fasting and meditating to discover what can be done to heal his karma. Luckily Xian Ho was resilient enough to enlighten me on his position regarding the bandits."
"Yeah," interjected Sano-san. "I just had breath enough left to call him an idiot for letting them get away."
"And then he collapsed in the snow," laughed Liu Chen. His boyish smile faded. "But in my distraction, I had misled my brothers. They were only able to catch a few bandits, and the ringleaders escaped. After Xian Ho recovered, we tracked them to Canton, and have been waiting for a chance to catch them since."
"Your little adventure was a stroke of luck for us, Souji," Sano-san said, grinning over his bowl. "If you hadn't raised the alarm, they'd have been able to drop off their shipment and carry another one of raw opium back to Japan. As it is, they'll have to rearrange all their plans. We arrested several of them and got names. Kiyooka got away, but I got a good look at his face." Sano-san looked grim. "He's not gonna escape me next time."
"Us," said Liu Chen, smiling. Sano-san's expression brightened, and he nodded.
Soujiro finished his tea and poured another cup. He held it up to his two friends. They raised theirs in silent reply.
* * *
Liu Chen had gone home; he had strict hours to keep, according to his discipline. Sano-san had washed the dishes in return for the dinner, and Soujiro was just getting ready for bed, when he noticed that Sano-san had not gone upstairs.
"Sano-san?"
The tall man was sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands. "A year," he said. "More than a year ago I sent them a letter...I said I'd be home...soon." He lifted his face and stared at, no, *through*, Soujiro.
"But so what? What's there for me when I do go back? His wife, his kids, his house. His life. Not mine. Not...ours..."
A nameless ache shivered through Soujiro's chest. His throat tight, he stared helplessly at Sano-san.
"Sano-san..." he ventured, coming shyly toward the older man, "you...you have your own life, don't you? You have a place here, and you're important to the Cantonese police. You also have many friends. Himura-san was a part of your life, but only a part...right?"
He lowered himself tentatively onto the stair a few steps below where Sano-san was sitting. Just close enough to show he was serious, but not close enough to touch. He didn't trust himself that far yet.
"He was an important part of your life," he pressed on, "...but he cannot have been *all* of your life. Because you are still here. Is this not true?"
"I...guess," murmured Sano-san.
"Then your life is not his either, right?"
"Yeah, it's not." Sano-san chuckled a little. "Definitely not."
"But even with your separate lives--you are still friends. And friends want to be with their friends."
Sano-san lifted his head. His eyes narrowed a tiny bit at Soujiro. "What's your point, Souji?"
Soujiro cleared his throat. "I am saying, maybe Himura-san misses you too. He may be married and raising a family, but I am sure he wants to see you and know what you've been doing and what you've seen when you were away. Maybe," he essayed a small smile, "maybe he even wants to go out drinking."
Sano-san looked at him for a long time, until Soujiro lowered his eyes. He felt naked under that gaze, and unhappy.
Then Sano-san smiled. He didn't often smile; he had a big cheerful grin that sometimes made him look silly. This was a smile that brought out the shine in his chocolate eyes, and gave his face a maturity that was beautiful beyond words to Soujiro.
Soujiro felt heat flood out from his chest, spreading up his neck and down his belly and even his legs, until he was a warm scarlet all over. Surely Sano-san would see; why couldn't he even control his own body anymore?
"C'mere, you," said Sano-san, holding out an arm to him. Completely shamefaced, Soujiro crept meekly into the embrace. Sano-san put the other arm round him and he snuggled into the larger man's chest.
Sano-san leaned his shaggy head against Soujiro's. "Thanks, So-ji."
"You're welcome, Sano-san," Soujiro whispered back, his heart thumping. So-ji? That was the shortened version of Sano-san's casual "Souji", which was only partly a nickname. This sounded more like a love-name, and it made the blood rush to his head. Was this what it was like to be drunk?
He felt a finger under his chin, tilting it gently upwards. He looked, surprised, into Sano-san's smiling eyes for a second, and then Sano-san kissed him.
This kiss was different from the rough, fevered liplocks they had exchanged. This one was slow, and intense, and it seemed to draw out all the feelings inside him like a wire from a molten chunk of metal. Sano-san's tongue moved in Soujiro's mouth like a languid snake, and a delicious thrill shivered down his spine.
After a long, mindless moment, Sano-san broke the kiss. Soujiro's breath hitched; he wanted so much more, and he knew Sano-san understood his need. Those brown eyes were so deep, searching his own.
Then something went wrong; the other man's gaze slid away, Sano-san disentangled himself from Soujiro, and with a muttered "Good night," went upstairs.
Soujiro was left on the stairs.
He remembered how he'd felt several years ago, lying on the destroyed tatami floor at Himura-san's feet, his clothes and his lifelong beliefs torn to shreds. He felt as lost now as he had then.
He realized that Sano-san was actually being gentlemanly. He had had Soujiro in his arms, and chose not to use him as he had that other time. He had decided that making Soujiro a substitute for Himura-san was not the honorable thing to do. So Sano-san had done the honorable thing.
And it had made no difference. Not to the small vicious animal that was beginning to grow inside Soujiro. As he made his way back to his futon, as he curled forlornly in his blankets, Soujiro could feel it chewing away at his insides. He shut his eyes hard and curled up even more tightly. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could disappear.
//I talked to him about his life. But what about *my* life? What is there for *me* to live for?//
-end 5-