A/N: Please note that the rating increased to "M" for this chapter. If you would prefer to read the "T" rated version of this chapter, please visit my homepage. A link is provided on my profile page.
Okay, now that I've gotten that off my chest, ummm, I'm pretty nervous about this chapter, so please let me know how I did. Thanks!
The thunder startled Gojyo, which sucked, really, because he'd been right in the middle of a pretty incredible dream. Sighing, he turned on his side, shut his eyes again, and listened to the rhythm of the rain drumming against the canvas overhead. It was soothing, in its own way, but the sharp cracks followed by rolling rumbles prevented him from actually being able to fall asleep again.
Shifting restlessly, he tried to force himself to relax. Instead, his mind insisted on replaying scenes from his dream and weaving in details from the bath earlier. He gasped and felt his body stiffen. Dammit! These things were so much harder to ignore now that he had something real to base them on.
After turning over another couple of times, he finally gave in and slid a hand in under his waistband. Oh, yeah. That was better, much better. His skin was warm and tense, and he could feel the tingling building and crackling as he settled into a rhythm. Squeezing his eyes shut, he could almost imagine that Sanzo was there with him, mouth moving against his, warm and wet and dangerous. His heart was racing, and his breath was coming in short, uneven gasps.
A flash of light and another burst of thunder distracted him just long enough for him to realize that he was no longer alone in the tent. He froze, his senses suddenly alert and prickling. Yanking his hand free, he shoved himself upright, his heart thudding in his chest for an entirely different reason.
Staring wide-eyed at the intruder, Gojyo gasped, clutching at the damp tank top hanging loosely over his chest. "Holy shit, man! You scared the hell outta me." The instinctive relief he felt when he recognized Sanzo was quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of mortification. "Don't sneak up on a guy like that! You could've said something, dammit." The heated flush that had begun in his cheeks quickly spread as he wondered just how long Sanzo had been standing there.
A tense silence followed, in which Gojyo scratched his head and raked his fingers repeatedly through his hair, feeling disoriented, embarrassed, and increasingly awkward.
"I ... should go," Sanzo finally managed, his voice hoarse, but he didn't move.
Gojyo's brow furrowed, confusion compelling him to lift his eyes from the twisted fistfuls of blanket bunched up in his lap. Sanzo was shivering. Shit, man! The guy was dripping wet. And, suddenly, nothing else mattered. Sanzo was cold and wet and needed him, and that was more than enough. Rubbing his hand over his face, he stood and dragged the blanket off his bed. Feeling a bit wobbly himself, his right leg stiff but relatively solid, he ventured over to the silent figure and draped the blanket over shuddering shoulders. "Come on, man. You've come this far. It'd be rude to just up and leave now."
Maneuvering the dripping blond over to sit on the bed was surprisingly easy. Keeping his hands to himself afterward was, apparently, impossible. It started out innocently enough as an attempt to dry Sanzo off with the edges of the blanket, but his initial brisk movements somehow evolved into slow, tentative brushes of fingertips over sharp cheekbones. By the time he'd realized what he was doing, he couldn't quite bring himself to stop, his fingers flitting past ears and sliding along stretches of damp skin, strands of wet hair parting and falling back into place.
Before he quite realized what was happening, he found himself tangled up in an awkward pile of limbs, mostly horizontal but hardly stable as the bed was really only meant to hold one adult. Strong arms were wrapped around him, and roving hands were clutching at him fiercely, rubbing up and down his back and arms, squeezing his shoulders, tangling in his hair. Dizzy and flushed, high on the adrenaline racing through him, Gojyo's hands roamed freely, touching everything within reach, his legs engaged in a fierce battle for balance as they jockeyed for position. He had to catch his breath in short gasps between the rough, sloppy kisses that left him feeling even more desperate.
Sanzo had managed to lose the robe somewhere along the way, which was a real plus because, even though he was feeling flushed and sweaty, the thing was damned cold when it was soaked through like that. Also, it made it easier for Gojyo to run his hands up and down the leather armor underneath. Damn, he'd wanted to do that for forever. The thought brought him up short even as Sanzo dove in for another demanding kiss, hands digging into his shoulders. If they were gonna do this, he wanted to make it count.
His hands slipped down lower, leaving the leather behind to tackle the jeans, popping the button open expertly and drawing down the zipper. Here, at least, he was on solid ground. The next part was a bit trickier. Sanzo pulled back suddenly and very nearly shoved Gojyo off the bed.
Ow. He'd kind of been expecting that. "Whoa, whoa. Easy there," he murmured. "You're gonna like this. I promise, okay?" His breath was coming in uneven gasps, and he was really hoping he could pull this off. Chicks had gone down on him before, obviously, but he'd never actually tried the maneuver himself. When Sanzo didn't immediately chuck him off the bed, he leaned back in and gave it his best shot. It was a bit awkward on a narrow camp bed, and it was lot messier than he'd thought it would be, but he did have natural talent, after all, so overall it went pretty well.
Except for the last bit. "Dammit, man! You could've warned me!" He leaned back on his knees and rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. "It's fucking bitter!" The taste wasn't that bad, not really, but the principle of the thing bugged him. After all, here he was being considerate and all, and Sanzo didn't even have the decency to return the favor.
"Sh-shut the h-hell ... up," Sanzo gasped, "I ... I didn't ..." His voice was hoarse and breathless, still thick and a bit dazed as he struggled to sit up.
Gojyo grinned as he pushed the heaving chest back down. "Nah, 's okay, man. Just give us a kiss and make it all better." He leaned over and tried to snag one, but he got deflected, and, after a brief struggle, Sanzo ended up lying half on top of him with a hand down his shorts.
Gojyo quit struggling. Well okay, then. He could deal with that, especially since it was quickly becoming obvious that Sanzo had mastered this particular skill.
It took a few minutes, but he did eventually get his kiss. Sanzo said it was just to make him shut up, but Gojyo was damned if he could figure out how being thoroughly snogged was supposed to discourage him from doing anything. It hardly mattered, though, really, as they both lay there panting softly, limbs hopelessly entangled, the wind whistling through the trees and the rain falling steadily all around them.
The contented feeling drained away after a bit, though, along with his body heat, leaving Gojyo shifting restlessly as he tried to avoid long, damp, jeans-clad legs. "I'm cold," he grumbled, shivering in his rumpled tank top and sticky shorts.
"Then get the damned blanket already and shut up," Sanzo hissed, huddling in on himself. Stupid bastard. Gojyo shivered again and decided it wasn't worth quibbling over. Dragging the blanket out from under the bed, he scowled at the shivering priest and, reluctantly, draped it over both of them, muttering all the while about stubborn gits who were too lazy for their own damned good.
Sometime later, Gojyo opened his eyes and realized he was nestled up against a warm Sanzo, his left arm thrown possessively across the man's chest. It felt real, too, with pins and needles tingling in his right arm and damp jeans rubbing up against his legs. Strong fingers were combing through his hair, and he thought he really could get used to that. Several drowsy minutes later, he leaned over to steal a kiss. Sanzo didn't resist, but the fingers stopped and pulled away. Figured.
Struggling to push himself up into a sitting position with his numb hand, Gojyo yawned and scratched his chest absentmindedly with the other. "So, uhhh," he mumbled, "what exactly did you want earlier? ... You know, when you showed up." He wasn't sure he really cared, but it was something to say.
"Hunh. Tea," Sanzo grunted, swinging his legs off the bed so he was sitting with his back to Gojyo.
"Mmm, sounds good, actually. I'll go with you," Gojyo yawned expansively and sat up as well, his back leaning against Sanzo's.
Stretching his arms out wide and arching his upper body, he suddenly found himself flat on his back, draped over the width of the camp bed, his support gone. Bastard.
"I don't need an escort," Sanzo growled irritably, bending over to shake out his rumpled robe.
"Yeah, but I'm hungry, it's still raining, and it's my blanket," Gojyo pointed out as he dragged his jeans on. His right arm still felt wooden, so it was a bit awkward, but, other than throbbing a bit, his right leg seemed serviceable. Hurrah for youkai healing powers. Now if he could only manage to scrounge up some coffee, he might not actually kill his grumpy boyfriend.
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The sprint through the rain hadn't really been all that bad, resembling as it had a demented attempt at a three-legged race as they dashed along, hunched over under an army-issue camouflage blanket, their hands bunched possessively around wads of cloth and shoulders casually jostling against each other. Of course, Sanzo, the selfish bastard, had hogged more than his fair share of the blanket, so Gojyo's hair and right side had gotten rather damp, but they'd made it to the mess tent more-or-less intact.
When they burst through the tent flaps together, Hakkai's face was priceless. His hands were frozen in mid-air, his eyes wide, as he stared at them. Gojyo blew a few loose strands of hair out of his face and grinned lazily up at his shocked friend.
"Yo!" he called out, waving cheerfully. Hakuryu's nose appeared over a stack of cookies and twin red eyes blinked twice at them as the dragon titled its head first one way and then the other. Kyuuing softly, the small white head butted Hakkai's motionless arm and stared up at him expectantly, its long tail twitching.
Sanzo took this opportunity to yank the blanket free, wrap it tightly around himself, and stalk over to one of the tables, where he promptly sat down and fished out a cigarette.
"Cheee! Stingy bastard." Gojyo shrugged and strode over to the counter where Hakkai was currently ignoring a whistling tea kettle. Lifting it off the burner, Gojyo fumbled around a bit before he managed to shake some tea leaves into a handy pot and pour hot water over them ... and all over the counter. His hand was still a bit numb. "At-cha-cha!" he whimpered as he danced away from the painful stream of liquid dripping down onto his socks.
"Gojyo-san," Hakkai admonished, finally recovering his composure, "what did we decide about you 'helping out' in the kitchen?" Firm hands snatched the tea kettle away from Gojyo and stern eyes frowned back at him. Dammit. Come on, man. Gojyo fidgeted, swiping distractedly at the widening puddle of water on the counter. Not now, not in front of His Insufferable Holiness.
"That he's completely useless and an utter nuisance?" Great. See what encouraging the bastard did? Now Blondie was joining in.
Scowling down at the watery mess oozing its way toward an unprotected sack of sugar, Gojyo took a deep breath and dragged twitching fingers through his damp hair. Turning to Hakkai, he grinned insincerely and waved the fingers of one hand. "My bad, my bad. I'll just ..." His eyes slid to the side. "Sit down over here," he continued, striding over to the table opposite Sanzo's, "and wait for someone else to bring it to me," he finished, flinging himself into an empty folding chair. Swinging his dirty boots up onto the table and crossing them, he glared meaningfully over at Sanzo, who, naturally, completely ignored him. Somehow, the bastard seemed to have found a discarded newspaper and was now using it as a shield.
After a few minutes of tipping back and forth in his folding chair, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the impenetrable wall of newsprint, Gojyo tilted his head back toward the staging area of the mess tent. "Oi, Hakkai," he called, "you got any coffee, man?"
Hakkai looked up from rearranging the stack of prepackaged cookies on the tray next to the tea pot. Hakuryu looked a bit put out. Gojyo sympathized. "Ah, yes," Hakkai answered absently. "It might be a bit bitter, though. It's been sitting there since the last of the medics left." Balancing the tea tray carefully, Hakkai gently nudged the dragon's questing nose away from the bowl of cream.
Gojyo shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Bitter's fine." The smile quickly spread as he watched the edges of the newspaper crinkle. Then a thought occurred to him. "So, uhh, Hakkai. How long have you been up, anyway? I thought you went to bed when we did. You know, right after dinner."
Hakkai set the tea tray down in front of Sanzo, who let the newspaper droop a bit as he poured himself a cup of tea. The priest had slipped on his reading glasses, and Gojyo was momentarily distracted by how incredibly cute the bastard looked with them perching on the end of his nose, effortlessly balancing his cigarette, a mug of tea, and the appropriated reading material.
"Ah, yes, well, I did." Hakkai's brow was faintly creased as he petted Hakuryu. "What was it you wanted, Gojyo?"
"Coffee!" Exasperated, Gojyo swung his boots back onto the ground. Dammit, why did everyone insist on spoiling the priest? And what the hell was up with Hakkai? Making his way back over to the staging area, Gojyo poured himself a cup of coffee. Grinding the heel of his boot surreptitiously over the black puddle in the grass, he looked up and caught a flash of motion out of the corner of his eye. What the hell had Sanzo been looking at? Was he planning on ratting him out to Hakkai?
Not that Hakkai was likely to notice; the guy really was acting a bit off. He was just kind of sitting at the table, stirring a cup of tea absently and stroking Hakuryu's head as the dragon gleefully sipped at the cream. Gojyo winced down at his coffee. He so didn't wanna share germs with the overgrown rat.
Settling himself heavily into a chair next to Hakkai, he shook the man's shoulder gently. "Oi, so what were the medics doing, then? Someone get hurt?" The mug of coffee was still in his hands, so he took a sip and instantly regretted it. It was really bitter. Ew. Setting it down and pushing it across the table so he wouldn't be tempted again, he slung a companionable arm across Hakkai's shoulders and peered sharply at his friend's face. "Helllooooo. You in there, man?"
"Ah!" Hakkai looked startled and almost spilled his cup of tea. "Sorry. Did you say something?"
"Yeah. I wanted to know why you were up and hanging out with a bunch of medics. You feeling worse or something?" Gojyo prodded Hakkai's arm with one long finger.
"No, no, nothing like that," Hakkai rushed to assure him, his eyes regaining their focus. "I've nearly recovered, you know. I'm just a bit weak still." He paused and took a sip of his tea, his face hardening. "They came to ask for my help. They said they wanted to run a few tests on me. It ... ah," he paused, leaning forward to rest his chin on his folded hands, elbows propped up on the table. "It turns out they'd identified the poison used on Lieutenant Po's men, and it seemed to be similar to the poison used on me earlier."
"Similar?" Gojyo prompted, pouring himself some tea. This really didn't sound good, but at least it was keeping Hakkai talking and not brooding or spacing out or whatever. Plus, it had the added benefit of catching Sanzo's attention. The paper was drooping quite a bit now and the priest was frowning, cigarette dangling untended.
"Yes, apparently this new poison is a more stable version of the poison used on me earlier." Hakuryu lifted its dripping nose and kyuued plaintively, cocking its head at its master.
Gojyo hummed noncommittally. Sanzo's frown had evolved into a scowl. Gojyo dragged out a cigarette and tapped it impatiently against the tea tray. "Someone's got a real sick sense of humor."
Sanzo grunted in agreement, then glared at the manhandled cigarette. Digging out his lighter, he flicked it to life and offered it wordlessly to Gojyo. Absently responding to the gesture, Gojyo watched the tip flare and glow red. "If it makes you feel any better," he grunted, taking a long drag on his cigarette, "one of the damn spiders was impersonating my brother. Can you believe it?"
Hakkai's head swiveled around to face him. "Are you sure?" he asked, his face pale.
Gojyo frowned. "'Course I'm sure. The worst of it was, it was like the bastard knew me, like the damn spider was Jien's fucking evil twin brother or something. Pissed me right off." He shook ash off the end of his cigarette and kicked at a table leg. "I mean, how fucked up is that?"
Hakuryu had wound around one of Hakkai's arms and was alternately hissing and purring. Hakkai's hands were clenched around his mug of tea and his eyes were narrowed, dangerous. "Evil twin?" he asked, his voice hard. "I see. And you're sure it wasn't your brother?"
"Eh!?" Gojyo asked, startled. "What the hell, Hakkai!? He'd killed a bunch of kids, for cryin' out loud. Jien'd never do that. I don't care who he changed his name for!" Gojyo finished, sounding incensed.
"Yes," Hakkai murmured, eyes focused intently on the liquid in his mug. "Of course. Yaone would never do that. ... And yet, I was so sure it was her."
"Exactly! She'd never try to kill you, man!" Gojyo thumped his friend's shoulder encouragingly. "She's totally head-over-heels for you, you stud. You know that. You've gotta trust the people you love."
Hakkai's fingers convulsed around his tea cup, shattering it. Hakuryu kyuued in protest and snaked its head around to lap at the nicks on his hands.
Sanzo snorted, scowling at Gojyo. "Don't be so naive. She works for Kougaiji. What makes you think she wouldn't kill all of us if she had the chance? She's tried it before."
Gojyo stiffened and glared back at Sanzo, catching and holding his eyes. "Oh give it a rest, asshole. You know very well it wasn't her. You said so yourself."
"But I couldn't tell the difference!" Hakkai's choked voice cut in. "Why! Why couldn't I?"
"Don't sweat it, man," Gojyo muttered, patting Hakkai's back awkwardly and glaring over at Sanzo. See what you did!? "Shit happens, you know? She didn't attack you right away, did she? Even Baldie here didn't notice she was a fake, and he's about as paranoid as they come." He grinned evilly back at Sanzo, craning his neck around Hakkai's bowed head so the priest would be sure to see. Gotcha, ya bastard!
Sanzo flipped him off, and Gojyo returned the favor. "Hnn. They're all just puppets, anyway." Blondie was frowning as he flicked the ash off to the side. "What I want to know is, who the hell is pulling the damn strings?"
Gojyo opened his mouth to protest, but Hakkai cut him off mid-rant. Shoving his chair back from the table, he stood, face set, deadly serious. "No, Sanzo's right, Gojyo. Whoever's using Yaone-san like this is unforgivable." Doubt still flickered fitfully in the depths, but anger had taken over, flaring brightly in Hakkai's narrowed eyes.
Gojyo stiffened, eyes widening. Man, Hakkai was scary when he was pissed off. But, he conceded, face relaxing into a tight grin, it was much better than the alternative. Maybe Blondie knew what he was doing, after all.
Hakuryu looked up as it dropped the last tea cup shard in place on top of its painstakingly neat pile. "Kyuuuu?" Turning its head to the side, it blinked up at Hakkai, its red eyes shining.
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Gojyo had insisted he go back to his tent to get some sleep, and, eventually, Hakkai had allowed himself to be persuaded. Gojyo's face had relaxed, then, the worry lines fading, and that had been enough. It was unlikely that he'd actually be able to sleep at this point, but he might manage to regain his calm. Unfettered fury would not help Yaone right now, not when he didn't even know where to start looking for her. Hakuryu kyuued gently, nuzzling his cheek, and the rain fell steadily all around them, slowly soaking into the stiff fabric of the blanket.
The first explosion hit when he was within sight of his tent. It rocked the ground beneath him and lit up the sky in a brief but vivid flash. He stumbled slightly before catching his balance, his body alert but confused as he scanned the area. He knew it couldn't possibly have been thunder. That had stopped hours ago. And thunder didn't make the ground shake. But how could anyone possibly set off an explosion when it was this wet out? Granted, the rain had tapered off somewhat, but it was still falling steadily.
Soldiers were stumbling out of their tents now, some of them half-dressed. Voices raised, they shouted back and forth, a jumbled mess as they tried to pool information and decide what to do. Hakkai felt divided, himself. Should he go back to the mess tent? Someone should find Goku. Where was his tent again?
While Hakkai was frozen in place, a second explosion rocked the camp, sounding nearer. Debris started falling from the sky, and mass panic ensued. Shouted orders from superior officers were drowned out by screams, stampeding feet, and the unrelenting rustle of the rain. He found himself being pushed along by the press of bodies, first one way and then another. It was nearly impossible to see anything in all the mess, but he decided his best bet was to try to head back to the mess tent. Sanzo and Gojyo might still be there, or at least close by.
Five minutes later, his blanket long since lost to the madness, he had to admit that he was completely disoriented, and his maddeningly weak body was refusing to cooperate. Bodies barreled into him as they dashed past, seeking shelter or advancing to meet the threat. Thoroughly soaked now, his feet felt like lead as they slogged through the thick mud, and his cheek was stinging from the falling rock that had grazed it. Hakuryu's solid and reassuring warmth pressed up against his arm, anchoring him.
When the third explosion hit, he thought he caught sight of blond hair and white robes parting the sea of camouflage, but the flash of light was too brief to be sure. "Sanzo!" Hakkai called, lurching forward. "Sanzo, where's Goku!?" His voice barely made a dent in the roar of voices and screech of exploding metal.
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Hwan leaned forward intently, tracking Yaone's movements on the monitor screen. She'd been reluctantly impressed by the youkai's efficiency and ingenuity, and, now, it looked like she might actually succeed where everyone else had failed. In just under an hour, her wild gamble might actually pay off. If this worked, if it really panned out, she would be the sole possessor of four of the five Tenchi Kaigen scriptures. And she even knew the location of the last, the very last scripture. Surely, with four of the five, and a pleased Lady Koushu on her side, obtaining the fifth would be child's play ... and immensely satisfying.
Prying that disgusting bunny out of his cold, dead hands wouldn't erase the years of humiliation, but it would even the score. Somewhat. A small smile pulled at the edge of her lips as she scanned the other monitor screens, double-checking Ni's location.
When the first cursory pass revealed nothing, a thin line creased her brow. She'd been sure he was still flirting shamelessly with Lady Koushu in the throne room. What the hell? Calm, calm. She'd just have to look more carefully. He'd just escaped her notice the first time through. She hadn't focused properly.
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Desperately, Hakkai pushed through the crowd, forcing his way over to where he'd last seen the blond head. Before he knew what was happening, he'd landed flat on his back, winded, a warm, heavy body sprawled across his and cold mud squelching under him. He seized hold of the arms he found, hands brushing over standard military fatigues, determined to set the person aside so he could continue his search, but a tingling shiver down his spine stopped him cold. He knew this person. He was sure of it.
The arms jerked violently, trying to rip themselves free. "Let go of me!" a high, familiar voice demanded. Long braids whipped across his face as the woman surged to her feet, using her weight as leverage. His hold on her hands loosened for one crucial second as her identity and the significance of the scroll clutched in her hand hit home. The woman pulled free and stumbled backward, off balance.
For a brief, tense moment, they stared at each other, eyes wide, recognition etched deeply into both their faces, then Hakuryu kyuued an angry challenge and dove at the intruder's face, wings flashing. The moment broken, the figure turned and fled, braids flying, and Hakkai leapt to his feet to give chase, fatigue and weakness forgotten as he dodged obstacles, blood pounding in his veins.
He yelled "Stop!" but he doubted she could hear him, or that she would if she could. As they flew through the camp, ducking, dodging, leaping, Hakkai thought he caught sight of a burning tent in his peripheral vision, but his eyes were fixed firmly on his target, and he didn't deviate. He could sense her presence, almost predict her moves. She'd given up trying to blend in when it'd become obvious that her disguise was no longer helping, and her side detours, no doubt intended to throw him off, or at least break his rhythm, had decreased in length and frequency. She must be getting close, then. She'll have a dragon hidden just out of sight, and, once she reaches it, it'll be too late.
Drawing an extra burst of speed from his fast-dwindling reserves, Hakkai managed to close the distance so that he was only two steps behind her. Good, this was good. He'd definitely stop her now. A flicker of motion in the corner of his eye suddenly materialized as a vicious swipe of long, wickedly sharp claws. Ducking instinctively, Hakkai struck out, catching the interfering youkai solidly in the midriff as he tossed the assassin aside. What the hell were they doing here? He could see several more of them ahead now, circling them.
Yaone had ground to a halt in front of him, her back stiff as she faced the youkai soldiers. "What are you doing here? Get out of my way." Her voice barely wavered. It sounded angry, impatient, and ... uncertain. She hadn't expected company. Somehow, that was comforting. Attacking in force wasn't really her style. Surprise attacks, stealth, and explosives were. Hakkai relaxed marginally, then pushed past two youkai so he was standing next to her in the circle.
"I'm afraid you took something that doesn't belong to you," he murmured, his voice soft and calm, ignoring their audience. "I'm going to have to ask you to return it." He held his hand out, willing her to meet his eyes, to acknowledge his existence and admit she'd lost this round.
But she stubbornly refused to look directly at him. "I'm here acting on direct orders from Lord Kougaiji himself," she announced, loudly and clearly, her eyes flicking toward him briefly, then back to the youkai blocking her path. "Let me pass. The mission was successful. Return to Houtou Castle at once. There's nothing left for you to do here."
"Oh, yeah?" one youkai leered, leaning unreasonably close to her, his nose very nearly touching hers. "Well, our orders come direct from Lady Gyokumen Koushu. Now why don't you just hand the scripture over, and we'll take care of the rest from here. Wouldn't want you to get lost." The youkai's hand shot out, aiming, no doubt, to snatch the scroll out of her hands right then and there.
Hakkai took half a step forward, intending to intervene, but she'd already moved, sidestepping the startled soldier with ease. "How dare you!" Her whole body was trembling as she summoned her spear, the rage rolling off her in waves. Apparently, this was something she'd prefer to handle alone.
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Hwan was panicking now, fiddling with the zoom functions on the cameras, but a sick dread was growing within her, and she knew, deep down she knew, that her gamble was just about to turn deadly. Without the fourth scripture and Lady Koushu's support, she was no match for Ni, the twisted bastard. Her heart pounding against her ribcage and her throat constricted, she scanned the room wildly, hoping to spot a loophole, anything that would buy her time.
Ah! Maybe she could use the scriptures. Shooting out of the lab chair, wheels squealing in protest as it drifted slowly away from her, she leapt for the storage cabinet.
"Time's up," a familiar voice announced. Her heart constricting painfully in her chest, she spun around to see a smug Ni and an irritated Koushu standing in the doorway, arms crossed.
"No! Wait! I ... " Why? Why was it so hard to get words past her throat. They all seemed to have collapsed there in a gooey mess, blocking off access to her lungs. Calm. Calm, dammit! It's not over yet. Tell her. Tell her about Ni's treachery. He can't be trusted.
"Why so pale, Hwan-chan? I would've thought you'd want to look your best for an official inspection." Damn that insufferable bastard and his condescending attitude.
Shoving her balled fists into her lab coat pockets with renewed resolve. "The cloning experiments—"
But Ni had already brushed past her and was smirking at the security monitors. "Oh-to! What's this, then, Hwan-chan?"
Hwan stuttered to a stop, hands clenching and unclenching reflexively in her pockets. What now? What the bloody hell now? He's just trying to throw her off balance. "The reports," she continued doggedly, refusing to look over at Ni, her eyes fixed on Koushu's cruel, elegant features as she glided past her. "Ni's been creating an army and he's—" Her head turned to follow Koushu's progress, willing her to listen.
The whisper of expensive robes along the tiles halted abruptly, two identical locks of hair thudding as they swung back to hit a pair of perfect breasts. "What. Have. You. DONE!?" Koushu whirled around, face contorted in rage. In two short strides, she'd seized hold of Hwan's neck in the iron grip of one hand and slammed her up against the supply cabinet. "Where is Rasetsunyo!?" she demanded, seething, her long, manicured nails drawing blood, sinking deep into unprotected flesh as her hand convulsed.
"I ... I," Hwan managed, barely able to breathe, her vision blurring as she tried desperately to twist away, to pry the deadly fingers loose. "It's okay. There's a tracking device," she wanted to say, but couldn't. Her body wasn't responding, her hands falling slack at her sides. She was only peripherally aware of the sharp pain in her throat and the gushing flow of liquid soaking through her coat and down her chest. It was almost as though it were all happening to someone else.
The vicious irony of the situation floated at the edges of her fading consciousness. She was going to die at the hands of the one she worshiped, the one she had striven to protect. Her last conscious thought was, "Ni, you bastard, you were supposed to go first."