Five years before Guardian of the Spirit...


Yun knew he shouldn't feel this way. The boy was nearly ten years his junior, withdrawn and surly, struggling to catch up to the others in his training and always busy doing something related to that goal. Their introduction had been just before the boy's betrothed was murdered, so Yun was sure the boy had no good associations where he was concerned. But the boy, Taiga - Jin, now... Yun watched him training, sparring, working surveillance (the only thing easy enough for him to do as yet), doing chores around the barracks - and found that he could not look away. He was enamoured by this youngster's transition from child to adult, each day more pronounced. He was astounded at the boy's singleminded dedication to improvement, amazed at how tirelessly he worked despite how difficult the training obviously was for him. Was he a weakling? Physically, yes. Suyou, several months younger, had twice the endurance, twice the speed, almost twice the strength. Jin was often sick, sometimes couldn't keep food down for days; he fell asleep during meals and a few times during guard duty, got heat exhaustion once and fainted in the practice yard and another time from the flu. But he never complained, and he never slackened his pursuit of the others' ability. He did every training task Mon gave him to do without comment, and if someone suggested he take it easy, he would set his jaw and do more instead. The only time Yun ever heard him speak, except to say "Yes, sir," to Mon, was when the boy felt some assignment was unwarranted, or the wrong way to do things, or a waste of time. Then he would argue and get smacked for it and be told to shut up until he was considered a full Hunter and to leave the strategy to the adults. Yun actually admired that, too. He himself would never dream of talking back to their leader; but this little teenager didn't seem to be able not to. As far as Yun could tell, Jin was genuinely fearless.

The problem was, he was also handsome. Even at fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, still shorter than everyone except Suyou's father, Hyoku, the boy stood out from the rest. He had intense, beautiful eyes the same grey-brown color as weathered wood, a lanky, muscular body that belied his youth, a constant serious expression which to Yun felt like a challenge. He knew he shouldn't. Jin was hurt and vulnerable. Jin had no one - his older brother, sister-in-law, and baby nephew had been drowned in a storm just a few months after his father's death, the final fragments of his family gone. Jin needed to focus on catching up to his colleagues so that Mon could use him for more than just simple reconnaissance. And last, but most important, Jin was far too young for a relationship with someone of Yun's age - with someone of any age, in Yun's frank opinion. The age of consent in New Yogo was fourteen, among the Yaku only twelve, but though they wed young, couples usually took some time to get up the courage to consummate those marriages. Taiga had never even kissed a girl; for him to get involved with a grown man was unthinkable.

But at night, after reading for a while and putting out the lamp, Yun would lie in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking of the boy who slept two doors down. The fiery glare Jin wore during their sparring match - the way his sweat-damp hair fell into his eyes and how his breath came hard and fast while he circled his opponent... Yun would roll over and try to forget, and at first it was easy; Hunter or not, Jin was a child still. But as little Taiga grew, and the boyish features gave way to the more chiseled countenance of a man - as Jin got taller and darker and harder... Then Yun tossed and turned and fought with himself, but his colleague would not leave his mind. And then it took everything in him to keep from letting his hand move from his side to himself, to... No, he daren't even entertain the possibility.

So Yun tried to find a compromise - something that could satisfy his ever-growing desire without betraying his fellow hunter. Because it would be unconscionable for Yun to pressure this boy into intimacy. He had never been one to hold back in situations of desire, requited or not; but he had also never wanted a man that he actually cared about, nor anyone so young.

That was the other problem. Yun enjoyed hurting his lovers. He thrilled at their pain and liked them to be helpless. He would often bind them - willingly or not - and force them to do things. It was a hobby of his. But he genuinely liked Jin and was concerned for his well-being, and while the thought of hurting the boy gave him the same thrill, it also turned his stomach and made him hate himself all the more for feeling this way.

Furthermore, Yun was married. His wife was quite ordinary, quite domestic. But he did love her - not passionately, but enough that he wanted her to be happy. Like most Yogo nobility, his was an arranged marriage; he and Shirai had married at sixteen but hadn't had sex until they were nearly nineteen. She had had a few miscarriages but they had no children yet. Part of the problem was that Shirai's constitution was not particularly robust, so pregnancy had been especially hard on her. Yun was gentle towards her, took good care of her, did his best to satisfy her needs and desires. To her he was Hasham Kamuran, upright young nobleman, unassuming and respectable. She knew he was one of the elite of the royal guard, and that kept her from asking questions about all his absences, at least for now. She was a bit jealous, but that was her only flaw.

Jin was, in many ways, like Yun's wife: fragile, ignorant of Hasham's true nature, requiring of special care, with an innocent heart. But, of course, Jin excited Yun in a way that Shirai, being plain, could not. Especially when they sparred together.

The chief was handling most of Jin's training, but he delegated about half of it out to the other Hunters: stealth with Taga, interrogation with Rai, manipulation and disguise with Zen and Sun. Yun was one of the better swordsmen of the group, so he was often designated as Jin's martial-arts teacher. It was in this capacity that he found his compromise.

The pair were fighting indoors to give Jin a feel for close-quarters combat. In the course of the match, Yun slammed him up against the wall and got him pinned. The boy was fifteen at the time and Yun was twenty-four and much taller. He tried to throw Yun off and twist or break free and couldn't.

Yun felt a sudden rush. His full weight was against the boy, holding him fast, and it abruptly reminded him of the last lover he'd taken on the side - how they had wrestled like this before Yun finally cowed him. Now, rather than letting go, he grinned and leaned closer. "Say please," he laughed.

Jin instantly took on an expression like an angry wildcat, but his struggles accomplished nothing. Yun moved one hand to press against the boy's neck. The size difference between them was large enough that he could have choked the life out of this child with just the one hand. He could feel the hard, panicked pulse throbbing against his thumb and forefinger. The power the older hunter felt over the younger was euphoric. This small violence felt just as satisfying as an act of sexual aggression. He leaned closer still, but before he could say anything else, he felt one of his legs yanked out from under him. In Yun's momentary scramble for balance, Jin broke away. The boy had managed to wrap one leg around the other's and trip him. Yun was impressed; he started to laugh. "Well done!" he said. "That was unexpected and clever. You're getting better."

The boy was still frowning, but he bowed and thanked Yun formally for the lesson, as was customary. Yun nodded back, but inside he felt energized, elated. From that moment on, he took whatever opportunity he could to reprise the feeling. He did nothing noticeably out of line, but his particular method of teaching suddenly became somewhat more... tactile, and more unforgiving. Jin himself noticed the change: for no apparent reason, Yun had turned from a slighly-irritable mentor into an outright bully. Their training sessions brought bruises, harsh words and derision, far worse than before. If he were down and hesitated even a moment, Yun would be upon him, shoving him into the ground and making snide commentary, striking or choking him. It made the boy wish he could escape the lessons altogether - but even that wouldn't have solved the problem, as Yun had begun pushing him around outside of training, too - blocking his path in the corridor of the barracks, tousling his hair, invading his personal space. It was infuriating, humiliating and a little scary.

But the turning point came after more than a year of escalating torment. Yun was giving a lesson in hand-to-hand combat, using advanced techniques he himself hadn't learned well til nearly age twenty. After watching Jin copy the motions several times - and admiring the speed and grace with which he did so - the older man suggested a sparring match was in order. Naturally Jin was far from expert, and Yun beat him without much trouble - but in this instance, he ended the fight straddling his opponent such that the younger man was trapped.

Yun couldn't stop himself. He had been, frankly, titillated, watching this lithe, serious teenager practice; the fight had done nothing but fan the flames; and now, in a position of dominance, he pressed a hand over the other's mouth and in the same movement reached his other hand into the loose front of the boy's sleeveless yukata.

In the space of a breath, Yun had been thrown off, his hand throbbing where Jin had... bit him? Like a startled animal the younger hunter darted to the far side of the room, putting as much space between himself and his colleague as he could. He snatched a weapon from one of the racks along the wall and circled towards the door.

"What's wrong?" Yun asked, stunned at the violence of this reaction.

The boy's eyes flamed. "If you ever do that again - if you even try - I swear by my father's grave I'll kill you."

Now Yun's passion faded entirely, replaced by confusion. "I was only teasing-"

"We both know what you were doing, and it wasn't teasing."

Yun frowned. "Jin. I really was just teasing. I won't do it again if it upsets you that much."

The boy only scowled deeper. "If you think you can take advantage of me, you're badly mistaken. Now I finally understand why you've been so cruel to me. But just because it makes you feel tough to pick on someone smaller than you doesn't-"

"Taiga, calm down," said Yun, switching to the other's real name. "I'm not going to take advantage of you. Where did you get this idea? I tease you because it's easy, but I would never actually hurt you-"

"So you say, you pedophile."

"Hold it. You think I was planning to - what, rape you?"

"How else am I supposed to interpret your behavior?"

"As a joke!"

"You've got a sick sort of humor if you think that's a joke."

Yun sat back on his haunches. Part of him was startled to discover just how large an impact his teasing had made on the younger hunter, but another part - a part he didn't want to acknowledge - brimmed with guilt and shame at having been suddenly found out. He'd thought he was so clever, giving himself these small satisfactions, never guessing that his true intentions were transparent whether he acted in full or not. But Jin was right, wasn't he? Yun was a pedophile, wasn't he? Not in the strict sense, but close enough. He was twenty-six years old; Jin was only sixteen. And even if he wasn't a pedophile, Yun could not pretend he wasn't a predator. Certainly, when he'd lost control just now, he'd had no intention of... of raping his junior colleague. But what had his intentions been, truly? And what hadn't he fantasized doing to this boy, in the privacy of his mind?

"I'm sorry I scared you, Taiga," said Yun earnestly. "It was unkind of me. I suppose I have been cruel - but I can see now how much my teasing upsets you. I'll be more thoughtful about it in the future."

The boy gave him a long, appraising frown, still gripping the sword so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. "Promise," he said at last, sharply. "Give me your word you won't try to force yourself on me."

"I promise," said Yun. He felt absolutely terrible - not least because even now desire was prickling at his mind, at his heart, at his loins. What kind of a monster am I? he wondered, not daring to answer the question for himself. Jin seemed to accept the promise, and with a deep breath and a grim nod, he said, "Okay, I'll trust you... for now," and returned the sword to its wall rack.


A few months passed. Jin turned seventeen. He seemed to be getting taller by the day; soon he would be taller than Yun himself. The training, too, seemed be finally yielding real results. His natural talents in martial arts were at last beginning to shine, now that he'd mastered those techniques that could be taught. He was also becoming stronger both physically and mentally, and had started to grow into his role, such that his fervor for the job overshadowed his moodiness more often than not. He had shown himself to be clever and resourceful - still stubborn and brashly outspoken, but a born leader, and a tough, relentless fighter. Everyone had noticed that he was finally coming into his own, but Yun especially took note. His fondness for the younger man had continued to increase... and his desire with it. He had kept his word and no longer openly bullied Jin, who seemed more relaxed around him as a result. But secretly, Yun still allowed himself an indiscretion here or there - a chokehold maintained a little too long, a contrived 'lesson' in wrestling, a playful touch here and there in the spirit of camaraderie, an 'accidental' intrusion on the other's room when Yun knew perfectly well that Jin was changing. And at night, he still found his mind's eye returning often to the blossoming teenager with the serious eyes. Yun figured his fantasies were harmless, so long as he maintained a careful delineation between what was acceptable and what was not.

One day, while everyone else was out on guard duty or at their civilian homes, Yun suggested a sparring match. Jin had completed his training by now, but he still practiced incessantly, and he was always happy to accept an offer to spar. Yun suggested a hand-to-hand match in the garden behind the barracks, by the well. Jin agreed, since the weather was pleasant, and the pair fought for a while.

Suddenly, Yun managed to get in a blow that he'd expected to be blocked; he caught the other in the jaw with the heel of his hand, with a lot more force than he intended, and Jin dropped like a stone, instantly unconscious. Yun realised what had happened and stood bent, breathing fast from the fight, his eyes on his fallen colleague. Jin was out cold; experience told Yun he would come to in a minute or so, but until then...

All at once Yun felt a wave of unpleasant heat. Jin lay unmoving, his mouth slightly open, his head turned to the side, one arm twisted beneath him; the collar of his yukata had loosened and exposed a wide section of collarbone and chest. Yun's eyes swept over the other - totally vulnerable, totally at his mercy. He approached, crouching down next to his unconscious colleague. Jin was no longer small enough for Yun to easily overpower him, but right now... right now Yun could do anything he wanted. The fantasies he'd been crafting for himself each night suddenly came galloping through his head in a trembling rush. He envisioned himself pulling off that torn old yukata, or taking the sash from his waist and tying the boy up before he could wake, gagging him, rendering him helpless whether he woke or not, and exploring the other's body greedily, holding him down and having his way at long, long last. Almost unthinkingly Yun started to reach for the other's top, to push back the collar's edge- then froze. What am I doing?! he thought, recoiling in shock and disgust. He stumbled clumsily back and sat down hard, staring in horror at his hands. Those fantasies... they'd just been harmless fun, he'd never meant...

Yun sucked in a stuttering breath. The question from the earlier incident returned like a shout in his brain, and this time he couldn't pretend not to know. What kind of monster was he? The kind that he'd hoped and prayed and begged never to become.

He was becoming his father.

All at once the strength went out of Yun's body. He slumped back, catching himself with a hand before he could hit the dirt, and struggled to slow his breathing. He wanted to shrivel into the ground. It wasn't that his father had abused him. Yun's father, Soka, had been brutal towards him, but no more or less so than any Hunter father training his son to succeed him. Young Hasham, the youngest of his siblings, knew his father was prone to rages and hated most people around him, but he had never felt that his father hated him. But Soka had taken his son along on a number of missions - or what he'd said were missions - to train him (he'd said) in torture techniques that Hasham would need for interrogations someday. Every time, the hunter and his son had gone to a deserted place, and there had always been a man there, or once or twice a woman, bound and gagged, and often undressed, and Soka Kamuran had shown the boy how to hurt these people, and had forced him to practice on them. Vividly Yun could picture his father limping towards the night's victim - Soka Kamuran had a terrible limp, which he never did explain to his son - and holding out a knife, beckoning the boy forward with a cold leer. Hasham had never guessed, at the time, that there could be something untoward in these errands. But it was his father's attitude about it that had made Yun realise, as he got older and more worldly, that his father was, truly, a monster, and that those people probably hadn't had anything to do with Soka's work as a Hunter. No, Soka Kamuran had really enjoyed torturing those people. He'd told the boy - ten years old, the first time he'd brought Hasham along - that people were there to be used, that the strong were meant to prey on the weak, and that if he wanted something he was best off simply taking it. Yun could look back and recall sitting in the alleyway outside an empty warehouse, hearing muffled sounds as his father 'worked' on the prisoner inside - and hearing his father laughing. Yun himself had always had a predilection towards violence, and he hadn't minded torturing the people, after the first few sessions got him used to it. His father's encouragement had even helped him accept the part of him that enjoyed it. As he'd gotten older, he'd realised that his appetite for violence extended into the realm of the sexual, and he took to letting out that side of himself in secret, in Kousenkyo's crimson district, while Shirai was sleeping or away at a hot spring or visiting her sisters in the countryside. He found partners who enjoyed being subjected to violence, or who were willing to do so for a large fee, or, every now and again, whom he felt deserved violation in return for their own crimes against others. He had learned, through hints and implications, of the sort of things his father had done - not only to criminals but to innocent civilians, even to his own family members - and Hasham had decided he must never, ever become like that. He governed and controlled his animal passions, and channelled them into his work and other acceptable outlets, so that they would never creep into his normal life or hurt those he loved the way his father's monstrous nature had hurt Hasham's mother and cousins and, perhaps, even some of Soka's Hunter colleagues. But here, suddenly, Yun had found himself so blindsided by temptation that he had nearly let his inner demon loose upon someone for whom he cared deeply, someone he would genuinely rather die than harm. He clenched his hands into fists, unclenched them, took several slow breaths, and finally crawled back over to Jin. Gently he nudged the other's shoulder, and he actually smiled in relief when Jin's eyes opened and he blinked several times.

"You okay?" asked Yun.

Jin slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. He noticed his shirt was falling open and straightened it. "That was a hell of a hit," he said.

"Do you need me to get the doctor?"

"No, I don't think so." He rubbed his jaw and winced a little. "I remember you hitting me, and I can remember the fight. But... uh, maybe we should call that a match." He gave a lopsided smile. "I think you won."

Yun smiled back. He helped Jin to his feet and led the way inside. "I'll make tea," he said. "You just sit still and rest a moment."

"Thanks."

As Yun focused on rekindling the embers in their hearth and setting a pot to boil, his hands were shaking. He felt confused and frightened and guilty. Certainly he could not tell Jin what had happened - but to say nothing, that felt wrong, like a betrayal of confidence. Didn't Jin have the right to know that Yun could turn into a monster at any moment, seen as Jin was the one at risk? But recalling the boy's reaction when Yun had tried to touch him before, the man feared that to admit his feelings might - rightly, perhaps - lead Taiga to steer clear of him forevermore. There was a good chance that telling Jin the truth would cost their friendship.

"Is something bothering you? You're so quiet."

Yun looked back sharply. Jin was watching him with quizzical concern - an expression that brought out the youth in his features and made Yun's heart sting with shame. "Everything's fine," he started to say, but then stopped. He carried the teapot over to the low dining table where there were already cups and sat across from the other man. He sighed and shook his head. "I'm about to tell you something that will probably destroy our relationship."

Jin looked confused.

"You were right about me," said Yun. "I want you and I've wanted you since you came here to take your father's place."

"What?" Incomprehension.

Yun continued doggedly, "You've surely heard by now about my particular appetites. How I go out some nights, to the crimson district, to get the satisfaction I can't with my wife."

"No..." Suyou had made a couple of remarks about Yun here and there, but they'd been cryptic and Jin had assumed Suyou meant that Yun liked to 'play with his food', so to speak - to toy with assassination targets for fun. Up til this moment, he'd assumed that Yun and his wife were happily married.

Yun saw the confusion on his face and sighed. "Shirai is a good, sweet woman - delicate, proper. I... I need something more than she can give. I need rough, and dirty, and dangerous. I need to dominate."

At last comprehension dawned. Jin's eyes widened and he seemed almost imperceptibly to move away. Yun saw him reach for the teapot and hold it without pouring it, and he knew Jin meant to use it as a weapon if need be. "So- so last year when- when you-"

"Yes," said Yun, his voice no more than a whisper. He felt wretched, but he pressed on. He owed Jin that much. "Just now, when we were sparring and I knocked you out, it took everything in me to keep myself from touching you... or worse. I'm so, so sorry, Jin. I should have told you the truth when you first caught me. I should have separated myself from you - I should have told our leader that I was having problems. But... I just couldn't do it. I didn't think. I was convinced I could keep myself in check."

The color seemed to have drained entirely from Jin's face. His grip on the teapot tightened. He swallowed hard and asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

"You deserve to know. Taiga, I swear, I would never intentionally hurt you - never. But I don't want you to be caught off guard if... if I were to, Torgal forbid, lose control - even for just a moment. I couldn't live with myself if I ever harmed you. If you're prepared, at least..."

Jin simply stared at him. He had no idea what to say or do. He wondered if he should run away, but something kept him seated. He thought back over the past year. Ever since Yun had promised to stop teasing him, the older hunter had not only been kinder but really actually pleasant - not exactly friendly, but considerate and much more patient than before. Jin had gradually come to trust Yun; now, suddenly, he felt as if the floor had disappeared.

"You must hate me," said Yun, looking at the ground.

Rather than answer, Jin said softly, "Can I ever trust you again? Have you really had designs on me since I came here?"

"I would never have acted on them."

Very slowly Jin uncurled his fingers from the teapot handle. He sat back and took a slow sip of tea, but his hands were trembling.

"I understand," said Yun, "if you don't want to remain friends. If you would prefer to stay away from me. It might be for the best."

Jin sighed. "I have to think about this before I do something that drastic." He paused. "Does our leader know? That you have these... inclinations?"

"Not towards you, but otherwise yes."

The younger man thought back to his conversation with Mon in the forest behind the barracks three years earlier. Mon had told him then that all of the current Hunters were good, trustworthy men. Their leader would surely not have said this if he thought that Yun were dangerous, particularly considering what had happened to Mon himself when he was a youth. Jin trusted Mon's judgment absolutely. If Mon considered Yun someone to be trusted, then Yun must be exactly that. Mon could not be mistaken.

Still...

"Hasham..." Jin raised his eyes to meet Yun's, but the older man was still looking down. "Have you ever... lost control? Tell me honestly. Do I need to worry about this?"

"The closest I've come to losing control was that time last year. I'm so sorry, Taiga. It was stupid and arrogant of me to think that... that I could tease myself as much as you, that I could let myself hurt you in little ways and that it would somehow be all right. I'm a monster. I know I'm a monster. You shouldn't have had to see that side of me." He lifted his gaze and gave Jin a long look. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but fierce. "I promise you - I swear, Taiga - that I will never do that to you again. Ever. And if I do - if I try anything at all that makes you uncomfortable - then you shouldn't hesitate to defend yourself. I'd rather you kill me, if you have to, than that I take advantage of you. I'd rather die than... than..." Than become my father, he thought but could not bring himself to say aloud.

To his shock, Jin reached across the table and set a hand on his own. His face was gravely serious as he said, "Thank you for warning me. Hasham, I would rather that you be honest with me than that you protect me from knowing what you think of me. I have come to consider you a friend. It could not have been easy for you to make this confession, but..." He frowned. "I'm glad that you told me. Now that I'm aware of this, I'll definitely let you know the moment you start to cross the line. I'll help you keep your promise."

Yun blinked. Was this really the seventeen-year-old kid he'd been helping train - the same kid who'd cried himself to sleep almost every night for the whole first month he spent in the barracks, thinking the others couldn't hear him - the same kid who'd lost every sparring match he fought for an entire year? This was the kid who'd struggled so much in his training that Mon had more than once voiced concerns that Taiga would not be able to succeed - that they would have to bring in a geneologist to figure out if House Amusuran had even one other surviving male member to take up the mantle of Hunter. What a change had been wrought in this Jin in just three years! This person sitting across the table from Yun was not a boy but a man, fearless and thoughtful and genuinely confident. Yun was amazed.

"Then you're not going to avoid me from now on?" he said after a moment. "You don't think I'm a monster?"

Jin withdrew his hand and took another long drag of tea. "I'm not going to avoid you, no. And I don't think you're a monster, either... not any more than any Hunter is. I think I value your friendship enough to take a chance and trust you."

Yun smiled and nodded quickly. "Thank you," was all he could say.


That evening when everyone had gone to bed, Yun went to Mon's door and tapped lightly on the paper screen. "Okashira, may I speak with you privately?"

Yun heard shuffling from inside and the door slid open. Mon said, "Follow me," and the pair walked silently outside, to the bathshed, where no one would overhear them. In the wood-panelled changing area next to the steaming basin where the Hunters bathed, Mon bid Yun sit across from him and said seriously, "What's bothering you?"

Yun looked at his hands. He had been a Hunter for more than a decade - an effective, efficient assassin, a gifted blackmailer, an excellent spy who never wavered in his duties. But at this moment his expression was one of uncertainty, fear, and failure, like a newly-minted guard who'd just made a terrible mistake. His brow was furrowed and when he spoke it was with deathly gravity. "Sir, you know my... my predilections."

"Yes."

"And you know that my father was a sadistic monster - that he tortured many commoners to death, and taught me to do the same."

"Yes." Mon's eyes held a great sadness as he said this. Yun knew that Mon blamed Soka Kamuran for twisting the young, impressionable Hasham to be like himself, just as much as Yun blamed his father for his own monstrous impulses. He knew that Mon had never forgiven Soka for this, and it was one of the things that most made him respect Mon and feel willing to go to the older Hunter for advice. He felt that Mon, who had known and worked beside Yun's father for many years, understood Yun better than the others did. He appreciated that Mon did not seem to judge him for his father's sins.

Yun took a deep breath and looked up, his mouth a tight line. "Sir, I fear that my father's legacy is destroying me from within." Deliberately he explained what had happened in the yard that day, and then confessed how he had battled a corrosive attraction to Taiga Amusuran since the first day he glimpsed him, bickering with Suyou, from afar - an attraction that had grown and festered ever since. He told Mon what he had told Jin that afternoon, and what Jin had said in response. He felt hot curtains of shame settle over his head, but he pushed on, scowling, knowing that he must tell their leader every last detail or he would never be able to face his colleagues again, and feeling as if, in many ways, this were a matter of life and death.

When at last he fell silent, Mon said, "What's the problem?"

Yun looked up sharply. "Sir? What do you mean? I almost attacked my fellow Hunter! I could have destroyed him, and myself in the process!"

"But you didn't," Mon said evenly.

"But it could happen again."

Mon sighed. "Hasham. I have known you since you were a small child. All your life you have been battling to overcome what your father tried to shape you into. I have seen you struggle and I have seen you fight, and Hasham, I have seen you win. You are much stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"But..." Yun's scowl deepened but he could not think of what to say. "Okashira..."

"Does Jin fear you?"

"No, I don't believe so."

"Then, again, I don't see the problem. Trust yourself, Yun. You are not your father."

For a long moment the two men looked at each other. Then, welling with gratitude though his face remained opaque, Yun stood and gave a clipped bow. "Thank you, Okashira. Your wisdom is invaluable as always."

Mon nodded back. "Any time. Sleep well, Hasham."

For the first night in a long time, Yun did.