Continuations
Tenpou's office was still tidy from their efforts earlier that month. Konzen could find a clear space on the desk to deposit his note. Of course the air still smelt of cigarettes, and sweat, and dust -- some things didn't change -- but it was better than it had been. The books on the shelves were in order. The scrolls were piled neatly. The floor was no longer a health hazard.
This was the first time he'd had to himself -- genuinely to himself -- in several days, and the peace and quiet were refreshing. He'd hoped to find Tenpou here, but apparently the Marshal was dealing with some military matters. Or just plain intriguing. Konzen was happy enough to be left out of that side of matters. He'd done his bit for Tenpou; the new toushin was out and about, and had by all reports succeeded dramatically in his first mission. Gokuu had behaved himself and was staying in Konzen's rooms, or at any rate, hadn't been caught doing anything he shouldn't for the last few days.
He put the folded note down on Tenpou's desk. I would appreciate a word when you have the time for it. That would be sufficient.
It was beautifully quiet here. He'd never appreciated that before. He had grown used to Gokuu bursting in on him, or the old hag wandering by whenever se was bored, or subordinates needing some sort of direction. Nobody knew that he was here, of course, and for a few minutes he had the silence to himself.
Silence and books. He could always sit and read while he waited for Tenpou to return, instead of just leaving the note for him. After all, if Tenpou was going to be back shortly, as the junior officer had told him, then it would actually be more sensible to sit here and wait for him, rather than leaving Tenpou to come trailing in his wake.
He drifted along one of the bookshelves, inspecting titles. Of course very few of them were going to interest him, as he certainly didn't indulge his curiosity by reading about human wars or youkai history. With a feeling of justified discrimination, he skimmed a shelf of commentary on mortal emperors. He tugged at the end of a scroll wedged in the corner, trying to get it out so that he could read the title.
There was a ripple of movement behind him, a whisper of silk against silk and metal against metal from by the door. Konzen jerked around to see the new Toushin Taishi -- no, Homura, he should think of him as Homura, he had supported his elevation and should be aware of his identity -- lounging against the doorframe, the door standing silently open behind him.
"Were you looking for Tenpou?" he asked flatly.
Homura gestured vaguely. The chain that hung between his wrists swayed loosely, the sound of metal links a brush on the edge of perception. He stepped away from the arch of the doorway that framed him, closing the door behind him. "Well, if he'd been here . . . Things are a bit boring at the moment. Is he around?"
Konzen shook his head. "I'm waiting for him myself." He supposed he should say something to acknowledge the other man's position. "I hear that you got back safely from that expedition. Well done."
Homura's mismatched eyes narrowed. "Well, yes, clearly I got safely back. Wounds and all."
Konzen blinked, one hand still on the scroll. "Oh? I didn't realise. Sorry." For a moment, prurient curiosity tempted him. What were they like? Was it very dangerous? And really, Homura was scarcely an adult. Are you fully recovered? No. A toushin taishi wouldn't want to be indulged like that. "Do you think you'll be sent down again in the near future?"
"Possibly," Homura said, and smiled, a cat-smile that curved his lips and made his eyes glitter. "Konzen. Konzen Douji." He stepped further into the room. "It's been a while since I saw you. Weren't you at my elevation into the office?"
"Somewhere at the back," Konzen said curtly. He walks like Tenpou, as though he owns the space around him. "I had to leave early. The Bodhisattva had work se wanted doing."
"And you're always very eager to serve Kanzeon Bosatsu." There was an uncomfortable light in Homura's eyes. "How very convenient."
Konzen shrugged, jerking a shoulder in a motion that felt all the more ungainly next to the other's casual arrogance. "Nothing convenient about it for me. It's my job." Conversation. Make some sort of polite conversation. You did submit a memorial supporting him, after all. "I suppose it's the same for you -- your job, that is. Nobody asks if it's convenient for you." He turned away to pull at the scroll again, trying to twitch it loose from where it was caught.
"Here. Let me help." Homura was abruptly standing next to him, the edge of his purple cape brushing against Konzen's bare arm. He smiled at Konzen from too close, too near, as his hand closed over Konzen's and around the scroll.
It came free with a sharp ripping noise, and a fragment of paper dangled loose at the end. Konzen pulled his hand out of Homura's grasp, away from those long warm fingers, jerking into a half-step back. The heel of his sandal clicked against the wall.
"There are some differences in what we do for our superiors, I think." Homura's voice made something disturbing of the words. "But tell me, Konzen Douji --"
"Yes?"
"What do you think of what I've been doing?"
"Well, it has to be done. I suppose." Konzen knew that he was being ungracious, and disliked the feeling that he was being goaded into it. He drew himself up sharply and squared his shoulders. "We each serve Heaven as we are best fitted."
"How pragmatic." Homura wasn't taking the step back -- or steps back -- that Konzen had expected. "And you do that by . . . stamping forms."
"I didn't realise that you took so much interest in my work." Konzen held the scroll at breastbone level between them. "Excuse me. I was waiting for Marshal Tenpou."
"I think he'll be a while."
"Oh. Then perhaps I won't bother waiting."
"Really?" Homura leaned against the shelves. "So is that all you think of what I've been doing? That it was only "something that had to be done"?"
He could try to push Homura out of the way, but if he failed, it would be undignified. He could try to move sideways, but that would be undignified as well. "Is there something that you want?"
Homura reached out to touch Konzen's long tail of golden hair. "Well, given how obedient you are to Kanzeon Bosatsu, I wonder . . ."
The door swung open, thudding against the wall on the far side. "Hey, Tenpou, I --" General Kenren stopped, looking from Konzen to Homura and back to Konzen. "Anything going on?" he finally asked.
"Nothing," Konzen said from between his teeth. Damn Homura for putting him in an embarrassing position like that. It might even have looked as if they'd been flirting in some way. He didn't know the General more than as a casual acquaintance through Tenpou, and disliked the little he'd seen, but for the moment he was grateful to the other man for the interruption. "I was just going." He stepped past Homura, scroll still held like a barrier between them, and stalked towards the door.
"Right."
The General held the door open, then closed it behind him. Konzen regretted the lack of an opportunity to slam it.
---
The General shut the door, and just looked at Homura for a moment. "Well," he finally said. "You like the sort who can't fight back?"
Homura raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realise he bent for you. Or is he the Marshal's?"
The General leant against the door. "Him? He doesn't know the first thing about it."
Homura blinked. Someone with a face and a body like that, wandering around in those sandals and white silk -- someone in the middle of Heaven and not even aware of what's going on around him? "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "He works for Kanzeon Bosatsu and everyone knows what se's like . . ."
"Yeah," the General cut in. "Se probably is. Doesn't mean hir nephew is. He's got the rank to keep himself out of things if he doesn't want to get involved. Tenpou says the closest he's come to anyone in the last hundred years is patting that kid Gokuu's head." He took a breath, and Homura could see the shadows of anger in his face under the smirking grin. "If you're actually looking for someone to put the moves on, kid --"
"Don't call me kid," Homura said mildly. "You made me toushin taishi. That's not a job that a child does."
The General's shoulders tightened. "Fine. I guess if that's what you want to be --"
"Oh, I do," Homura cut him off. Anger warmed him, just as it had before, so many times before, and one kind of tension became another. "But I can see why you're annoyed about it. It's not as if you get to do anything like that, is it? General of the Western Army of Heaven -- it must be such a demanding post. You're not allowed to kill. You're not allowed to do anything permanent. I hear that you run around with a gun full of tranquiliser darts. Very commanding. Very . . . masterful."
The General brought one hand down with a slam on Tenpou's desk. "You shut your fucking mouth. Ever had people serving under you? Ever known what it's like to have to take command?"
"Why should I?" Homura asked sweetly. "I just kill people."
"Yes. Yes, you do. And I've seen how much you enjoy it."
"What's it to you?" Homura leaned against the desk, and let his smile broaden. "Jealous?"
"No." The General leaned towards him. He smelt of cigarettes and wine. "Why the hell would I be jealous of something like that? Perhaps I'm just worried about you. Homura. Perhaps I see you getting out of your damn depth and thinking you know it all and about to walk into trouble. There's more to it than just a big sword, you know."
Homura boiled at the patronising, condescending note in the other man's voice. For a moment he wanted to hit back in the worst, most painful way he could think of. And is that what the Marshal gets from you? No. No. There were better ways of handling this. "That's what you think," he said, controlling his voice to blandness, his face to a sharp smile. "But you aren't the one down there risking his neck, are you? You get to stay back from the action. Don't worry, I'm not blaming you for obeying orders . . ."
"Shut the fuck up."
"Make me."
The General jerked forward, finally goaded into motion, and grabbed the front of Homura's coat with his fists, hands warm through the silk of Homura's clothing. They stood eye to eye. "Don't -- don't -- try that sort of game with me."
"What sort of game?" Homura asked, half dizzy with the blend of anger and delight that ran through him. He raised his own hands, locked them around the General's wrists. "I'm quite serious."
"I know you are. That's why you're being such a damn idiot. You can't solve everything with the edge of a sword, Toushin Taishi."
"Can't I?" The General had taken him down once before. He wondered if the other could do it now. "Perhaps it depends on how badly I want something."
The General's eyes narrowed. "And what do you want?"
The door opened, and the Marshal walked in, a cigarette between his fingers. "Konzen -- oh. Kenren. Homura." He looked between the two of them, eyes suddenly sharp and dark behind his glasses. "Excuse . . ."
"Don't trouble yourself," Homura snarled, wrenching himself loose of the General's grip. "I was just going."
"That's right," the General said from between his teeth. "He was just going."
Homura shoved past the Marshal, who was still standing stupidly in the doorway, and slammed the door behind him. His cape rippled as he stormed down the corridor. He was angry with Konzen. He was furious with the General. The Marshal didn't even deserve consideration.
But right at this precise moment, he was most bitterly angry with himself. If I'd said something different, if I'd done something different . . . They should have given him the respect he deserved. Kid. Wasn't what he'd done enough? Didn't it matter that he'd faced as many enemies as Nataku, that he had come back alive and covered in blood? You can't solve everything with the edge of a sword.
Couldn't he?
---
The sound of the slamming door still hung in the room.
Kenren leaned against the desk, and sighed. "Shit. I need a drink."
---
Tenpou's office was still tidy from their efforts earlier that month. Konzen could find a clear space on the desk to deposit his note. Of course the air still smelt of cigarettes, and sweat, and dust -- some things didn't change -- but it was better than it had been. The books on the shelves were in order. The scrolls were piled neatly. The floor was no longer a health hazard.
This was the first time he'd had to himself -- genuinely to himself -- in several days, and the peace and quiet were refreshing. He'd hoped to find Tenpou here, but apparently the Marshal was dealing with some military matters. Or just plain intriguing. Konzen was happy enough to be left out of that side of matters. He'd done his bit for Tenpou; the new toushin was out and about, and had by all reports succeeded dramatically in his first mission. Gokuu had behaved himself and was staying in Konzen's rooms, or at any rate, hadn't been caught doing anything he shouldn't for the last few days.
He put the folded note down on Tenpou's desk. I would appreciate a word when you have the time for it. That would be sufficient.
It was beautifully quiet here. He'd never appreciated that before. He had grown used to Gokuu bursting in on him, or the old hag wandering by whenever se was bored, or subordinates needing some sort of direction. Nobody knew that he was here, of course, and for a few minutes he had the silence to himself.
Silence and books. He could always sit and read while he waited for Tenpou to return, instead of just leaving the note for him. After all, if Tenpou was going to be back shortly, as the junior officer had told him, then it would actually be more sensible to sit here and wait for him, rather than leaving Tenpou to come trailing in his wake.
He drifted along one of the bookshelves, inspecting titles. Of course very few of them were going to interest him, as he certainly didn't indulge his curiosity by reading about human wars or youkai history. With a feeling of justified discrimination, he skimmed a shelf of commentary on mortal emperors. He tugged at the end of a scroll wedged in the corner, trying to get it out so that he could read the title.
There was a ripple of movement behind him, a whisper of silk against silk and metal against metal from by the door. Konzen jerked around to see the new Toushin Taishi -- no, Homura, he should think of him as Homura, he had supported his elevation and should be aware of his identity -- lounging against the doorframe, the door standing silently open behind him.
"Were you looking for Tenpou?" he asked flatly.
Homura gestured vaguely. The chain that hung between his wrists swayed loosely, the sound of metal links a brush on the edge of perception. He stepped away from the arch of the doorway that framed him, closing the door behind him. "Well, if he'd been here . . . Things are a bit boring at the moment. Is he around?"
Konzen shook his head. "I'm waiting for him myself." He supposed he should say something to acknowledge the other man's position. "I hear that you got back safely from that expedition. Well done."
Homura's mismatched eyes narrowed. "Well, yes, clearly I got safely back. Wounds and all."
Konzen blinked, one hand still on the scroll. "Oh? I didn't realise. Sorry." For a moment, prurient curiosity tempted him. What were they like? Was it very dangerous? And really, Homura was scarcely an adult. Are you fully recovered? No. A toushin taishi wouldn't want to be indulged like that. "Do you think you'll be sent down again in the near future?"
"Possibly," Homura said, and smiled, a cat-smile that curved his lips and made his eyes glitter. "Konzen. Konzen Douji." He stepped further into the room. "It's been a while since I saw you. Weren't you at my elevation into the office?"
"Somewhere at the back," Konzen said curtly. He walks like Tenpou, as though he owns the space around him. "I had to leave early. The Bodhisattva had work se wanted doing."
"And you're always very eager to serve Kanzeon Bosatsu." There was an uncomfortable light in Homura's eyes. "How very convenient."
Konzen shrugged, jerking a shoulder in a motion that felt all the more ungainly next to the other's casual arrogance. "Nothing convenient about it for me. It's my job." Conversation. Make some sort of polite conversation. You did submit a memorial supporting him, after all. "I suppose it's the same for you -- your job, that is. Nobody asks if it's convenient for you." He turned away to pull at the scroll again, trying to twitch it loose from where it was caught.
"Here. Let me help." Homura was abruptly standing next to him, the edge of his purple cape brushing against Konzen's bare arm. He smiled at Konzen from too close, too near, as his hand closed over Konzen's and around the scroll.
It came free with a sharp ripping noise, and a fragment of paper dangled loose at the end. Konzen pulled his hand out of Homura's grasp, away from those long warm fingers, jerking into a half-step back. The heel of his sandal clicked against the wall.
"There are some differences in what we do for our superiors, I think." Homura's voice made something disturbing of the words. "But tell me, Konzen Douji --"
"Yes?"
"What do you think of what I've been doing?"
"Well, it has to be done. I suppose." Konzen knew that he was being ungracious, and disliked the feeling that he was being goaded into it. He drew himself up sharply and squared his shoulders. "We each serve Heaven as we are best fitted."
"How pragmatic." Homura wasn't taking the step back -- or steps back -- that Konzen had expected. "And you do that by . . . stamping forms."
"I didn't realise that you took so much interest in my work." Konzen held the scroll at breastbone level between them. "Excuse me. I was waiting for Marshal Tenpou."
"I think he'll be a while."
"Oh. Then perhaps I won't bother waiting."
"Really?" Homura leaned against the shelves. "So is that all you think of what I've been doing? That it was only "something that had to be done"?"
He could try to push Homura out of the way, but if he failed, it would be undignified. He could try to move sideways, but that would be undignified as well. "Is there something that you want?"
Homura reached out to touch Konzen's long tail of golden hair. "Well, given how obedient you are to Kanzeon Bosatsu, I wonder . . ."
The door swung open, thudding against the wall on the far side. "Hey, Tenpou, I --" General Kenren stopped, looking from Konzen to Homura and back to Konzen. "Anything going on?" he finally asked.
"Nothing," Konzen said from between his teeth. Damn Homura for putting him in an embarrassing position like that. It might even have looked as if they'd been flirting in some way. He didn't know the General more than as a casual acquaintance through Tenpou, and disliked the little he'd seen, but for the moment he was grateful to the other man for the interruption. "I was just going." He stepped past Homura, scroll still held like a barrier between them, and stalked towards the door.
"Right."
The General held the door open, then closed it behind him. Konzen regretted the lack of an opportunity to slam it.
---
The General shut the door, and just looked at Homura for a moment. "Well," he finally said. "You like the sort who can't fight back?"
Homura raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realise he bent for you. Or is he the Marshal's?"
The General leant against the door. "Him? He doesn't know the first thing about it."
Homura blinked. Someone with a face and a body like that, wandering around in those sandals and white silk -- someone in the middle of Heaven and not even aware of what's going on around him? "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "He works for Kanzeon Bosatsu and everyone knows what se's like . . ."
"Yeah," the General cut in. "Se probably is. Doesn't mean hir nephew is. He's got the rank to keep himself out of things if he doesn't want to get involved. Tenpou says the closest he's come to anyone in the last hundred years is patting that kid Gokuu's head." He took a breath, and Homura could see the shadows of anger in his face under the smirking grin. "If you're actually looking for someone to put the moves on, kid --"
"Don't call me kid," Homura said mildly. "You made me toushin taishi. That's not a job that a child does."
The General's shoulders tightened. "Fine. I guess if that's what you want to be --"
"Oh, I do," Homura cut him off. Anger warmed him, just as it had before, so many times before, and one kind of tension became another. "But I can see why you're annoyed about it. It's not as if you get to do anything like that, is it? General of the Western Army of Heaven -- it must be such a demanding post. You're not allowed to kill. You're not allowed to do anything permanent. I hear that you run around with a gun full of tranquiliser darts. Very commanding. Very . . . masterful."
The General brought one hand down with a slam on Tenpou's desk. "You shut your fucking mouth. Ever had people serving under you? Ever known what it's like to have to take command?"
"Why should I?" Homura asked sweetly. "I just kill people."
"Yes. Yes, you do. And I've seen how much you enjoy it."
"What's it to you?" Homura leaned against the desk, and let his smile broaden. "Jealous?"
"No." The General leaned towards him. He smelt of cigarettes and wine. "Why the hell would I be jealous of something like that? Perhaps I'm just worried about you. Homura. Perhaps I see you getting out of your damn depth and thinking you know it all and about to walk into trouble. There's more to it than just a big sword, you know."
Homura boiled at the patronising, condescending note in the other man's voice. For a moment he wanted to hit back in the worst, most painful way he could think of. And is that what the Marshal gets from you? No. No. There were better ways of handling this. "That's what you think," he said, controlling his voice to blandness, his face to a sharp smile. "But you aren't the one down there risking his neck, are you? You get to stay back from the action. Don't worry, I'm not blaming you for obeying orders . . ."
"Shut the fuck up."
"Make me."
The General jerked forward, finally goaded into motion, and grabbed the front of Homura's coat with his fists, hands warm through the silk of Homura's clothing. They stood eye to eye. "Don't -- don't -- try that sort of game with me."
"What sort of game?" Homura asked, half dizzy with the blend of anger and delight that ran through him. He raised his own hands, locked them around the General's wrists. "I'm quite serious."
"I know you are. That's why you're being such a damn idiot. You can't solve everything with the edge of a sword, Toushin Taishi."
"Can't I?" The General had taken him down once before. He wondered if the other could do it now. "Perhaps it depends on how badly I want something."
The General's eyes narrowed. "And what do you want?"
The door opened, and the Marshal walked in, a cigarette between his fingers. "Konzen -- oh. Kenren. Homura." He looked between the two of them, eyes suddenly sharp and dark behind his glasses. "Excuse . . ."
"Don't trouble yourself," Homura snarled, wrenching himself loose of the General's grip. "I was just going."
"That's right," the General said from between his teeth. "He was just going."
Homura shoved past the Marshal, who was still standing stupidly in the doorway, and slammed the door behind him. His cape rippled as he stormed down the corridor. He was angry with Konzen. He was furious with the General. The Marshal didn't even deserve consideration.
But right at this precise moment, he was most bitterly angry with himself. If I'd said something different, if I'd done something different . . . They should have given him the respect he deserved. Kid. Wasn't what he'd done enough? Didn't it matter that he'd faced as many enemies as Nataku, that he had come back alive and covered in blood? You can't solve everything with the edge of a sword.
Couldn't he?
---
The sound of the slamming door still hung in the room.
Kenren leaned against the desk, and sighed. "Shit. I need a drink."
---
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