Opium Dream

Chapter five: Axletree, Turn

By Funara

Disclaimer: I recently found out that the title of chapter four—"The Shape of Things to Come"—was also the title of an H.G. Wells novel. Now, in addition to denying ownership of YYH, I also have to deny myself rights to the title of my last chapter. Life just isn't fair.

Notes: I'm working as fast as I can to get chapters out before vacation ends. Bear with me (and this short chapter).

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

General Kibano's office was located in one of the larger rooms on the second floor of the Republican Army's headquarters. The moment Hiei entered, he could tell by the décor of the room that Kibano was one of the higher ranked generals. As Jin bowed himself out, Hiei noted the blazing fireplace on the left side of the room—it had clearly been the finishing touch on a luxurious suite. Now, the only things that remained were the fireplace, a deep red mahogany desk and the creamy wallpaper—but the room was still superior to most of the rooms in the building.

The general himself was well-built and muscular, and the scars on either side of his face enhanced the look. His black hair pooled neatly above his shoulder-blades. When Hiei stepped in, Kibano looked up from his frowning perusal of whatever papers lay on his desk. Hiei moved to the front of the wide desk.

Kibano leaned forward. "You are Hiei? Of the fourth division?"

Hiei nodded.

"And you are also the soldier we encountered in the forest."

Hiei nodded again, careful to keep any expression off his face.

The older man scrutinized him carefully. "What did you and General Karasu speak about?"

Hiei stiffened. "That is a personal matter. Sir," he added grudgingly.

"Not if it smears the reputation of our regiment."

"It has nothing to do with the army."

"Anything you do in General Karasu's presence has to do with the army." Kibano leaned back into his chair. "Let me tell you something, soldier: you are a regular trooper. Karasu is the Republican army's highest ranked officer—as I'm sure you know, he is the father of this revolution and will likely be leader of the new nation. You are to treat him with the utmost respect. Anything less, coming from one of my own soldiers, is unacceptable. Do you understand?"

Hiei's expression was neutral, but imperfectly so. "Yes."

"And you will apologize to General Karasu for your behavior in the forest?"

Hiei's eyes and tone were icy. "General Kibano, I told you that I understood. I said nothing about complying." And he left the room.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Shizuru set the delicately enameled pot of steaming tea on the table, followed by a tray bearing two matching cups. She poured the tea expertly and set a cup of the hot liquid in front of Kurama. He thanked her.

Both of them drank quietly from their cups, warming their hands around the cups' exteriors. When Kurama put his cup down, Shizuru spoke, seamlessly carrying on the conversation they'd had in the hall when Kurama had entered. "Are you sure about your decision? It was rather abrupt."

Kurama smiled a little. "I know. But it was necessary."

"Really," said Shizuru thoughtfully. When Kurama didn't say anything, she prodded gently, "In what way?" She normally didn't poke and pry, but it was usually helpful to know what demons plagued her housemates sooner rather than later.

Kurama studied the leaves collected at the bottom of his cup. "Let's just say," he said carefully, "that besides the points you brought up yesterday, I also find myself in a situation where I need a secure place to stay and think things out."

Shizuru knew that this was as much as she was going to get. "Fair enough," she said lightly.

"And I'll earn my keep, of course."

She waved her hand dismissively. "There's no need to worry about money. I didn't start this place purely for profit—I intended to help out those who needed it."

Kurama looked surprised. "That's a rather noble motive for times like these."

Shizuru rested her cheek in her hand. "Maybe, but the things I saw, working as a lower-class geisha…" She shook her head. "I knew girls who scraped the bottom of human dignity to beg for business so they could pay for their room and board.

"So I intended this place to be a safehouse. I have enough money to cover most expenses. Those who I allow to live here have to have my approval. And then they can choose to work how they like."

"What if you get lazy girls?" asked Kurama jokingly.

The owner of the teahouse smirked. "Oh, I don't allow lazy girls here."

Kurama laughed. "Then I promise I won't be one."

"Yes, but if you'd had that tendency, I wouldn't have offered you a place here anyway." Shizuru put their tea cups on the tray with the pot of now-cold tea. "Let's go upstairs, and I'll show you where your room is."

The teahouse was more complex than it looked from the outside, as Kurama had found out yesterday. Karasu's party had been held on the second floor; the wing of bedrooms was located on the third floor.

"The room you stayed in last night wasn't a formal bedroom," Shizuru explained. She stopped in front of a sliding door at the end of the hallway. "You're the only one in this end of the hall." She glanced over her shoulder. "You don't mind, do you?" Kurama shook his head.

The bedroom was simple, and similar to the room he'd slept in last night. A futon lay neatly folded in the corner of the room. Leaning against the back wall was a round bureau with a large mirror attached. On top of the bureau was a medium-sized metal basin. A small heating stove sat directly under one of the two windows in the room.

Shizuru left him to arrange his belongings however he liked, telling him that lunch wouldn't be for a while. "Do whatever you want today," she said. "You can meet everyone tomorrow."

The first thing Kurama did was to light a fire. The only belongings he had were his old clothes, which he placed in a bureau drawer. The placement of the furniture was acceptable, so there was no need to move anything around. Kurama took his boots off and sat down in front of the stove, hugging his knees to his chest.

The fire in the stove was a poor way of warming himself, he observed idly. It would take hours for the heat to fully encompass the room. The best way by far would take only moments, and it did not pose the threat of setting anything afire. At least not literally, Kurama thought wryly.

The warmth of another body.

But that was precisely what Kurama wanted to avoid. Karasu and Hiei—he'd only kissed—or been kissed by—either one of them, and already they were snapping and (in Hiei's case) snarling at each other. The situation was a potentially dangerous one—as evidenced by the scene in the forest—and Kurama's unresolved emotions only added fuel to the fire. He'd needed a place where he could keep busy and sort out his feelings, and although the line of work he'd chosen was a little too close to the problem for comfort, it was better than nothing. He only hoped that everything went according to plan.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Hiei strode through the snowy streets of the capital, his cloak billowing behind him, a black warning to anyone who might dare to provoke him. As a boy, he'd had terrible control over his temper, and he'd stormed through his village's snowswept valley countless times, walking and walking until he'd cooled down. He knew his twin sister wept to see him angry, and so he never returned home until his temper dissipated.

Thousands of snow-imprinted footsteps later, Hiei slowed. The street was familiar, and the ebony-haired soldier realized with a jolt that he was nearing the bar where he'd first met Kurama. He stopped in front of the heavy wooden door and pushed it open.

The place, viewed now in the sunshine of late morning, had the distinct air of something used and forgotten. The tables and chairs, which had been cloaked in shadow when Hiei had first stepped foot in the bar, were laid bare to the dreary light. Even the opium smokers had ceased to be mysterious dreamers and were now just old men puffing away at elaborate pipes.

Almost as if to recall the events of several nights ago, Hiei sat at the same table. But no beautiful crimson-haired young man entered the den; no rowdy crowd of men stumbled down the stairs.

The old lady materialized—she'd probably heard the door open. When she saw Hiei, she stopped in her tracks, but decided against accosting him. If she noticed that Kurama was not with him, she said nothing.

"What do you want to drink?"

Hiei continued to gaze forward. "Sake," he said automatically. She left and quickly returned with his drink.

Much had changed since he'd left here two days ago. Hiei's eyes narrowed, and he gripped his cup tightly. That morning, he'd been satiated with latent confidence. He'd pushed the doubts and questions to the back of his mind, sure they had no bearing on the present.

But Karasu had stepped arrogantly into the picture, and in one night, Kurama had swiftly changed. Hiei had not found out exactly what Karasu had done, but it was more the consequences that mattered, rather than the act itself. Hiei thought darkly to himself that he probably wouldn't see Kurama for a few days, at least. He raised the cup of sake to his lips and drank deeply.

The night Kurama had attended Karasu's party, Hiei had stayed in his barracks, thinking. He'd recognized the jealousy that had begun to nip at him as well as the possessiveness that had already begun to take hold. He wasn't surprised by either feeling.

After all, in the mountains, everyone was too wise about his past to even consider touching him. And perhaps, he'd thought, that was why he'd pulled away from Kurama before he went farther.

All of those thoughts had been long swept aside, though. Hiei stared quietly into the golden-amber sake.

His dislike of Karasu spanned more than the fact that he seemed to be taking dominance in Kurama's thoughts. No, it reached out to include the fact that Hiei could do almost nothing about it—Kibano had been completely correct when he'd said that Hiei was compelled to show respect to Karasu. The masked general could order his resignation in an instant, and so far, Hiei had given him no reason not to. The republican soldier in Hiei remarked sarcastically that this was exactly how a democracy was supposed to operate.

Hiei drained the rest of his cup. Even with all of weighty pondering, he'd reached no conclusions. The only thing worth considering was going to see Kurama—but the latter had made it clear he wanted to be left alone for a while. And Hiei had no intention of disregarding his wishes and bringing more trouble upon himself.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

"We've looked forward to having you with us, Generals Karasu and Yomi." The speaker, a tall blond with shoulder length hair, raised his glass in acknowledgement. The others followed suit.

"And we are equally pleased to be received," said Karasu.

Yom raised his glass. "It has been a long road here, but we have persevered—long live the Republic!" The handful of men in the room held their glasses aloft, murmuring after the blind general, and then tipped their glasses back and drank.

Shimoji, the oldest of the generals present, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. A bandage covered one eye, but the other one was bright and blue and currently focused on Karasu and Yomi. "Generals, I think I speak for everyone present when I say I am eager to hear your plans for rebuilding Gandara. Our beloved country, although free from its despotic ruler, is still in the clutches of ruin, and I would like to see it alive and whole before I die." He gave a harsh chuckle.

Karasu let Yomi speak, and the man outlined their plan to set up a trustworthy government and slowly rebuild the nation's economy. Lately, Karasu found, he had been "letting" Yomi speak more and more, rather than keeping silent when the other voiced his thoughts. It was a foreboding sign that Yomi no longer asserted himself diplomatically—had not, in fact, since he'd been blinded. Even before then, he had become quieter and more withdrawn, especially after the death of his son. Karasu was grateful that Yomi'd retained his prowess in battle—as long as he remained strong, he remained at his peak. And there was no need for Karasu to end their partnership.

Kibano, who was sitting to Karasu's right, tapped him gently. Karasu turned, and Kibano leaned in the murmur quietly. "I spoke to the soldier Hiei today and warned him about his misconduct. I apologize for his behavior."

Karasu smiled elegantly. "Thank you, general," he murmured back. The other general leaned away.

"What would you suggest as our first step, General Yomi?" asked a youngish looking brunette, eagerly absorbed in the conversation. Karasu glanced at the group.

"Pull out unnecessary soldiers," responded Yomi immediately. "Send them home—it's been a long war. And it'll show the people that the war is truly over."

The smile on Karasu's lips widened as the discussion carried on. Kibano needn't have worried about punishing unruly soldiers; Karasu had the means readily available.

Although, really, he had no intention of sending anyone away at the moment. War games were all well and good, but they left little room for the individual psychological exercises that were Karasu's favorite. He was fully aware of the effect he had on Kurama, and he wasn't about to spare Hiei the sight of Karasu openly wooing the red-haired young man.

Karasu intended to enjoy this.

—to be continued—

Notes: As this is an AU, I'm going to take a liberal view of Karasu's philosophies and tweak them for my own purposes a bit. I hope nobody minds. (read: kitsunelover) Kibano is way out of character, I think, but it doesn't matter because no one will remember who he really was in the series. I'll spare everyone the list of things in this chapter that are in need of bettering.