Because of the church episode, they didn't reach their destination before noon. A large city that was like South Town Lite without the reach of Geese Howard. Yamazaki liked to go here when he wasn't doing business because he could momentarily spoil himself without thinking for a day or two. And there was that place which served horse sashimi.

Excitement should have made the drive feel short truthfully but it dragged as Yamazaki had come to some conclusions. He knew he wasn't made of stone but that rockiness to his soul was softening a little around a certain someone – and the way that someone looked at him. Not with hostility, caution, disdain, or desperation.

It was…something else. Something else entirely.

Spoke volumes of how alien it was when it triggered foreign feelings in Yamazaki like that. He could be an asshole and flip the switch to power abuse, use it to hold a metaphorical leash on Rock. But on the other hand, after everything, was it even his power to use? For one, it would make him feel like Kain.

Fuck Kain.

Seeing the panic creep into Rock's eyes made him wonder if the kid was feeling something similar. Whatever the answer was, it made Yamazaki feel some semblance of self-doubt. He wasn't one to second-guess himself but being so dang introspective lately caused that.

"Streets might be bustling when we get there…" he mused.

"Yeah," came the soft response. Dazed with thought. Curious, Yamazaki cast a glance at Rock, catching him playing with the edge of his shirt, flapping the thing up and down and revealing the bare skin underneath until he got bored and fiddled with the straps to his gloves only to pull them off entirely. He had some pretty slender fingers. He was pretty slender overall. A little less skin and bones since leaving Kain.

Yeah, he was a cute kid, so what? Without bruises, without tears, without vomit, sweat, semen, and alcohol staining his flesh, he looked less broken. As he was now, ephemeral naturally, he looked…he looked appetizing. There was a thought of Yamazaki's that wondered what it would feel like to run a finger over Rock's stomach, really feel the slightest unevenness underneath sensitive skin. Hope it wouldn't come with a side order of traumas to be gently untangled and put in their rightful boxes.

Hell, Sorimachi would be ashamed, disgusted probably. Not because it was another male but because his protégé didn't just make the first move and do something about these musings like any normal person would. But that would require blood not to leave Yamazaki's brain at an alarming rate as it did now. It took a red light off the highway to realize that Rock was staring at him now.

Bright, red eyes simply observing. Curious, lifelike. Unbearable to look at.

Merciless in the way Yamazaki's breath got stuck in his throat. He clenched his hands around the steering wheel and stared at the road again when the light turned green. The only thing that tethered him was the knowledge of the things Rock had endured. Yamazaki was a lot of things, but he was not and never would be a predator.

"What about sleeping accommodations?" Rock asked softly.

It felt a hell of a lot like a setup for intimacy. But at this point, they had already slept next to one another. Despite what Yamazaki was experiencing at the moment, it shouldn't matter.

"Shared room," was all he could say to him. He sure as hell didn't love the way Rock's jaw tightened or the veil of apathy falling over his eyes. "I ain't paying for a second room and it's the best place in town."

There was no more discussion before they made it into the city and its pedestrian mall, alongside a few dozen people. Despite the chill of autumn nearing its twilight, the number of bodies moving around generated enough heat to keep the cool at bay somewhat. Hitting the first store, that luxury vanished quickly.

As did Rock's decorum.

"What the fuck?" he uttered at the sight of fur coats creating aisles to wander in. He stared at Yamazaki with a hint of disgust but never actually left the store.

"That's the wrong thing to say obviously. You should say 'Yes, sir. Gimme one of those, please.' Right?" the older man scanned the rows of coats until he noted one in black with a grey rim. From the corner of his peripheral vision, a sales assistant stood and stared. A girl, no older than fifteen. Probably a part-timer or a family member.

Rock slinked up next to Yamazaki and caught the girl's eye instantly but thoroughly ignored it. "No, it'd be like wearing a rug you found in an old man's house years after he passed."

"Heh. Wolves have heavy pelts too, don't they?"

"That's not what I'm talking about. What does that even have to do with anything?"

"Nothin' but I'm gonna give it to ya anyway and you're gonna love it."

"Odds are that I might burn it. Then what?"

"I'll glue the ashes to your ass."

"Ew," Rock groaned. "Fine, whatever. Do it."

Then it must have instantly dawned upon him that he consented to the wrong thing, so he stuck his hands down the pockets of his pants and shuffled on his feet a bit, a faint red spreading over his face.

"T-the fur coat, not the ashes."

Smirking just faintly, Yamazaki took the coat and headed for the front desk. The girl rang it up, staring at Rock in the meantime but thankfully keeping whatever awkward flirtations in her head to herself. With the mission complete, they headed back outside where the heat of human bodies packed together in the pedestrian mall welcomed them.

There was still an hour or so before noon, so time was on their side. Yamazaki thought of getting a new watch, the one from the last raid for Kain didn't look good even if it sold for a pretty penny. If he remembered correctly, there was a jeweler further down the street. Before that, they stopped outside two stores standing side by side; one sold books, and the other sold glasses.

"We could stop by here. And here," Rock pointed between the two stores with a spark of something in his eyes. He turned to look at Yamazaki with something not quite pleading but still…wishing.

"Okay," Yamazaki shrugged. "Let's go then."

He was damn sure he saw something akin to a smile on Rock's face.

There was one hell of a difference between instant noodles and basashi. The former used to be Yamazaki's best friend by the time he got money after leaving the shithole in Okinawa. Instant noodles, curry powder, and hot water – if he was lucky. Horse meat sashimi blew that out of the water like a bomb, even if he felt a little nostalgic sometimes for the processed ramen.

"So, I guess today was…fun, really," Rock mused from across the table. He had stopped scowling and bemoaning the amount of money spent, so yeah, it had to be. He smiled just slightly and sat back. That smile faded pretty quickly when the food arrived.

Instead of proving his bravery, he sank in his seat and stabbed at some seaweed salad, fucking around with it until he actually ate the thing. It was enough to make Yamazaki conclude that he'd have to train the kid's palette too. There was a part of his mind that, for a split second, went down a selfish and sinful route. Fuck. He didn't want to go there, didn't want that emotion near him but he couldn't help it.

Unfortunately, a part of him still thought of bare bodies and slender fingers.

He sighed and stabbed a piece of horse meat with the chopsticks. "Just give it a try, you pussy."

The visceral reaction from Rock was amusing, adorable, and irritating all the same. He settled for the shrimps instead, muttering; "How about no."

Yamazaki put the meat on his place anyway because fuck him, the cute stubborn little wolf. Rock focused on the red slice, staring at it like it was poison, and shrugged, relenting and eating it. He grimaced because of course he did but it faded pretty quickly. This wasn't actually so bad, he realized – finally.

"So?" Yamazaki reached for another piece. He better fucking indulge when he had the chance.

"It's…not bad," Rock's expression loosened up. He reached for another slice and ate it without goading. "A bit like tartare. Pretty soft and sweet. A bit gamey."

"That's the spirit, kid," Yamazaki sat back with something akin to pride or slight optimism. It reminded him of his first few weeks with Sorimachi in the seediest bars of Kyoto where he was introduced to underage drinking through the strongest sake possible. Shit knocked him out for a day or two.

It was part of the initiation process. Part of it. The other was a tattoo. But that wasn't part of the plan tonight. Maybe one day Rock could get interested enough for a mark of ink on his body. Terry's reaction, if possible, would be hilarious.

All things considered, today had been…well, pleasant for lack of a better term. Yamazaki hated that word for it sounded so milquetoast and snobbish, but it really had been a pleasant outing. Rock when he was in a stable mood was not bad company. Good company even. Still reserved but not without his occasional smart-ass quips.

He wasn't excessively festive like his git of a mentor and quite frankly, Yamazaki was pretty sure he'd stab his own ears with forks before he ever ate out with Terry fucking Bogard and enjoyed that torture. Rock though, well, whether he liked it or not, did have some of Geese's tics when the old cocksucker didn't keep them in check.

It was a little amusing to be reminded of that so aggressively.

"What?" Rock raised a brow before reaching for some of the seaweed salad. "Why are you staring at me? Is it because I bought glasses?"

His face turned a little red while he folded his napkin and put it over the remains of his food. A little more than just half of it. Suppose he was beginning to eat a little more.

"You did look interesting with 'em," Yamazaki answered.

Rock lifted his brow, then furrowed it again. "W-what do you mean? I don't use them to look good."

"No…" Yamazaki shook his head, smirking a little to himself. "But that's what you accomplished."

Like clockwork, Rock shrunk a little in his seat, forever unaccustomed to compliments – no matter how thick the layer of jest they came wrapped in was, face still red from the remark.

They got up shortly after, paid the bill, and left the establishment. Despite the spending, there was still some money left but as it was dark out, and had been so for a long time, it was a miracle if any stores were open – not that there was anything on the agenda worth buying. It felt too early to just go full mole at the hotel. There were bars but after the encounter with White, Yamazaki was wary of going to such a place when Rock was with him.

So, they ended up just wandering the streets in silence. Yamazaki hated to admit he had no idea of what to say but he'd reckon that he liked the quiet. Far too many people had a tendency to fill out moments of quiet with worthless chit-chat. Without the horde of people around, the air was particularly chill and dry.

Almost stagnant like…well, the church. Yamazaki ought to stop thinking about Rock stretching in the glow of the stained glass. A pretty fucked up vision when it came minutes after leaving flowers on his mother's grave.

"Remember when you had a go at me for staring at you? Pot calling the kettle black," Rock uttered to break the silence.

Cute, the little smartass caught him, Yamazaki almost quipped. He grinned a bit against the flush that crept down his neck. "It's the glasses."

Miraculously, in the span of half a minute, Rock's expression flickered through the entire emotional spectrum until he sighed, staring right ahead of them. "You're still amazed. Weird."

"I'm shocked, I tell you," Yamazaki answered with a playful smirk and chuckled like a Cheshire cat at the exasperated groan he got in return.

It felt so normal being with someone else, he reckoned. He couldn't remember the last time he had done so and not have it be a mission, a streetwalker, or an employer. Just a companion. It wasn't like he was lonely. He hardly had time to think about that. He hadn't ever felt a need for friends. He wouldn't consider Rock a friend either but…

Looking at the kid, he had a look on his face that radiated some level of ease. It was a shocking display of something akin to trust that made Yamazaki ask; "Ever scared of me?"

Most people didn't know what to make of such a question moments before a hurricane hit them. Rock didn't exude fear amongst all the gloomy emotions that surrounded him but it had an inconsistent way of making itself apparent in people.

"Honestly, no," Rock answered, calm and truthful. "I just worried you'd be too much of an asshole."

And it made Yamazaki conclude; "But you don't give a shit about what I am, do you?"

Rock stepped up in front of him, walking backward to face him and shaking his head. "As things are now, it'd be too late and nonsensical for me to despair over it."

"Did it never bother you that I got blood on my hands? It's not like Kain hid one of my skills was killin' for cash. Fuck, that was partly why he hired me."

"Evidently, you killed other crooks. Not random, innocent bystanders, correct?" Rock moved again so they walked side by side.

Annoyingly, Yamazaki didn't know right away what to make of his attitude. It was quite in sharp contrast to Terry's. Not so black and white it seemed – even if the way he trembled probably reminded him of the man he shot. Suppose the suggestion of criminals killing criminals sounded morally just. Ruthless pragmatism, taking to a weirdly balanced level. Evil rooting out evil.

Well, maybe Rock was bit of a mini-Geese, wasn't he?

"I could've. That depends on what constitutes as a bystander," Yamazaki said, well aware of what the kid meant. He was just messing with him.

And it worked like a charm because Rock made a weird sound of displeasure. "You know what I mean. Someone who's never hurt anyone. Living a normal life. Follows the law. A person who doesn't know what you are and why you're there."

It made Yamazaki wonder if Rock would try to stop him if he ever decided to randomly stab a pregnant woman to death for the fun of it. But he wasn't that demonic.

"Right. I didn't. I never have actually. I can't do my job for a nice paycheck if I go outta my way to stab bitches left and right just because. As satisfying as that might sound, it would put police on my ass at all hours of the day," Yamazaki said, hearing a sigh of relief come from Rock.

He snorted and gave him a generous but redundant offer.

"Good. I think I'm fine with you doing whatever with other criminals. I'm not in the mood to play judge, jury, and executioner but…" he paused for a moment. "Don't suppose I could ask you to spare people just trying to survive? I mean, like stealing because they are too poor to buy food and things. I'll give you the violent types in exchange. The assholes that get off to abusing those who can't fight back because no one will stop them. The ones who kick down."

Yamazaki ought to remind Rock that he was the one who decided to keep in touch even when there was Kim on the other side. His eyebrows lifted in amusement at the terms and conditions like he had any obligation to follow them. No, he wasn't someone to go around just randomly killing people, but he also never had moral dilemmas over who he killed or why they had to die.

He did it for the money (the other side of him did it for the fun). It didn't matter to him if his target was some hometown hero from a tiny, close-knit village in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

But he was right in saying that they had all been criminals. It made more sense when other crime lords wanted their rivals dead. Now random pregnant women. innocent lawful types just under the thumb of a bad grudge or some homeless teenager stealing a pack of gum? He tended to find such kills particularly boring and frankly a little messy – and unpleasant. So yes, maybe it wouldn't hurt to follow Rock's conditions just for the hell of it.

It felt a little better than the instances when rules had been imposed on him by others trying to hire him full-term. Yamazaki wasn't one for change otherwise, not someone to do what he was told in any permanent relationships. There was no dignity in playing a lapdog for some intellectually bankrupt gits and amoral losers undeserving of respect.

Which was to say, the same wasn't remotely true for Rock Howard.

"Fine. It'd be like nothing changed at all."

Looking at the brand-new watch around his wrist, Yamazaki saw the clock was a few minutes past nine so it would be wise to go back to the hotel and dump all their acquired loot. Knowing this city fairly well, he took them down a few alleyways away from the pedestrian mall which led to a massive park. A fountain stood barren under the glow of lazy lampposts.

It looked real ugly when not spouting water. But the city shut that off during the colder months. Instead of cascades, the fountain had instead been occupied by a few gatherings of men. Particularly drunk and particularly obnoxious. The noise they made caused Rock to look at them briefly, not noticing the figure walking right past him from the darkness and bumping harshly into his shoulder. The impact caused him to stumble and drop a bag or two.

He knelt to pick them up, glancing upwards at the person he had bumped into and uttering a quick sorry before he stood up. The person he bumped into was a tall man of lanky proportions with long red hair that hung over his face. His grey eyes were sunken in and empty, gluing themselves to Rock with an apathetic stare. He had a blank look on his face that barely held any signs of life. That he blinked was the one reminder.

A tense atmosphere settled over the park and with it came a feeling of discomfort as Yamazaki narrowed his eyes. He wasn't one to categorize and catalog people, but he knew damn when he was looking at someone best fucking avoided A shiver ran down his spine; adrenaline or heaven forbid, fear? Maybe a little bit of both.

When it came to primal responses to danger, Yamazaki remembered Sorimachi talking about the five Fs; fight, flight, freeze, flop, and friend. A random civilian was predisposed to all of them but a good gangster always settled for fight. It had been Yamazaki's MO for his whole life. It flared up now as he stepped in between Rock and whoever the fuck this guy was.

"The fuck's your problem? You got your apology. Keep walking before you get hurt," he sneered, staring the man straight into the eyes. And finally, without moving even one muscle in his face, he turned around all mechanically like a rotisserie chicken and sauntered away into the darkness down a different path.

"That was creepy," Rock remarked with a faint shudder in his voice. Just on the safe side, Yamazaki slinked up real close to him.

Leaving the encounter with the weirdo to be forgotten, Yamazaki found himself staring over the city skyline on the balcony of their room for the night. A modest abode with a bed, a couch, and a bathroom in which Rock was. In comparison, this city felt a little less overflowing with life compared to South Town even if it had the same neon lights and cars zooming by several stories below.

Despite it all, the air felt peaceful, perhaps drowned out by the hum of the shower running. A bit lulled by the droning noise, Yamazaki headed inside and lay down on the couch, closing his eyes to drift off into a light nap. The world turned silent fully by the time he snapped his eyes open, greeted by a person he never expected to see again.

Sorimachi with his fur coat, his garish open Hawaiian shirt that revealed the tiger tattoo across his chest and the pendant over it, his light facial hair, the sunglasses in his breast pocket, and the cheap cigarette dangling from his lips. It was him. In the flesh. A little transparent, which was how Yamazaki knew it was a dream. But it felt uncomfortably real with how Sorimachi sat on the coffee table with his left hand firmly placed on his knee and the right neatly tucked away in his pocket.

He smiled, warm and approachable as usual with the lines of age around his eyes and mouth. The room itself felt familiar. There was no balcony anymore, so they were in another hotel. The one in Osaka with its paintings of mountains on the wall and that ugly sculpture of komuso playing flutes in the middle of the room.

"It's been a while," Sorimachi chuckled. "You're still as ugly as ever. Haven't seen you since-"

"Osaka," Yamazaki answered as he sat up and found himself cruelly transported to his early adulthood in the few moments of fulfillment he had in life before it was all snuffed away.

"Yes! What a place that was, Tengshe."

Tengshe. It became a nickname, given to Yamazaki by Sorimachi as he rose through the ranks of the syndicate after one of his many trips to China to meet with the Triad. When Yamazaki went there with Sorimachi for the first time, he understood what it meant and why it had been given to him.

Flying Dragon Snake.

Both of them sat there in silence, reminiscing about years gone past while skipping past the comet-sized elephant in the room. Sorimachi looked spectral in the light but the way his body moved was almost lifelike. It might be because Yamazaki tried to pinpoint the shape of the man beyond what remained of him at the time of death.

"How've ya been?" Sorimachi tilted his head and gave an easy smile.

"Good, I think. Yeah. How about-" Yamazaki stopped himself short of returning the gesture because, for the life of him, he had been trying to fucking forget that Sorimachi was quite literally dead and had been so for years but never succeeded. So, he pivoted to; "It's…good to see you, old man."

"You too, Tengshe. We had our ups and downs, eh? Wasn't always easy. Wasn't always fun. But we had the family. We had each other," Sorimachi lifted his right hand with all its gold rings and reached over to Yamazaki's, holding it tight to the point of aching like nothing had ever done before. "We did until there came blood in the water when you failed, Ryuji. You killed me."

"What?"

Sorimachi's smile intensified, more wide than normal. More ghastly. More spectral. Open sores and wounds began to spread over his face and chest, oozing blood and maggots. His skin turned blue, then dark like it was decomposing. His eyes slowly turned into a sludge of black and red that poured out of their sockets, dripping with gore and threads of flesh. He looked like the day Yamazaki saw him for the last time.

"You fuckin' killed me, Ryuji. You know that, right? My blood is on your hands forever, you limp-wristed bitch. And you're gonna kill that purse puppy too. You get that, you fuckin' coward?"

"I–what did you say?"

Something pulled at Yamazaki's collar, rough and careless, shaking him until his eyes flew open to stare back into a pair of scarlet ones.

"I said; are you okay? You made a lot of noise."

It took Yamazaki a minute to sink back into reality, to the realm of lucidity and the present, to understand that he was not in Osaka anymore, that there were no ghosts, that Rock Howard was standing above him, trying to pull him out of a horrible nightmare and all the bullshit that came with it.

"You look really pale. Like you've seen a ghost," Rock let go of him while he readjusted on the couch, sitting up properly although almost ready to vomit all over the floor with dizziness.

"What, and you haven't?"

"None with the name Sorimachi."

It was almost like a perfect invitation to ask for details but Rock, bless his wolf heart, did in fact not do that. He looked around the room, exhausted, damp from his shower, and a little freaked out. Possibly due to whatever he was hearing of Yamazaki's nightmare.

He fretted a bit with an obvious, overwhelming need to ask a question. Nothing Yamazaki could do about it, with having nightmares that were practically an open invitation for awful discussions. Fuck, this was one of those times where he wished he wasn't accustomed to and enjoying Rock's presence so he could growl at the kid to fuck off and call him a stupid wolf bitch or something.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Rock actually asked, brow furrowed in transparent worry.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Yamazaki stood up and headed for the tiny tea kitchen. And by that, it was only a portable cooler with sodas and beers.

They could call for room service but Yamazaki was not in the fucking mood for people right now. He took two cans and headed back to the couch where Rock sat with a book in his hand, glasses on his face, and the television running at a low volume.

At this hour there was nothing but reruns and infomercials so Yamazaki didn't bother trying to flip through the channels. He should really have gone to bed but instead, he sat down next to Rock and did something he hadn't done since…well, ever. Contemplating all the steps that led him to this point – until the culmination of it all lifted its head from the second page of the novel.

"I'll tell you if the book is good," Rock said when he wasn't one-tenth of the way through. His eyes got a notch bigger behind the glasses – he looked…well, ambrosial, which was a less pathetic way of saying adorable.

Yamazaki reached for one can and opened it. "What's it called anyway?"

"Graceless Eclipse. It's a sequel to another book called Hobbledehoy of The Night."

"The fuck? What shitty titles are those?"

Rock scoffed a bit before he embarked on a low-note and well-articulated tangent about the accolades of these novels but not before intersplicing he used to write songs about novels for the hell of it. In the meantime, Yamazaki drank and hoped to God that the kid could find it within himself to just fucking breathe between paragraphs of words. Looking at him, there was a smirk on his face like he only did this to push buttons. With the glasses, that expression, with everything, desires slowly began to linger dangerously close to Yamazaki's active consciousness.

"What do you think?" Rock asked.

"I think you're a nerd. Drink before your nerdiness turns the soda hot," Yamazaki gestured to the other can.

But instead of doing just that, Rock hooked his finger in the book and stared at nothing for a moment. After a long pause, he said; "Sorry."

Taken aback, the older man stared at him. "What? For fuckin' what?"

"You know, with Sorimachi. You had this really weird look when I mentioned his name. I feel a lot better when I can pop open the lid on some of my issues, some, but that's not for everyone. Still I…" he tried to soften the blow a bit for his own sake – for whatever reason.

Yamazaki would love to wave it off but fuck it, he probably wasn't getting out of this unscathed. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or groan when he heard; "It just occurred to me that I don't know a thing about you."

"Mm-hm," he hummed into his can. "And it's not like you're an open book either."

To this, Rock laughed a bit. "I think we've established you know quite a lot about me and my situation. Why I'm here, why I've been hurt, and why there're no Bogards around."

"Only because you opened yourself up and revealed all the spoilers," the older man played along with the literary euphemisms and didn't hate it as much as he expected to. "But that's enough literature theory. Let's leave the library cards tugged away for tonight, yeah?"

A comfortable quiet settled over the couch then as Rock continued to read – and remembered that he had a drink waiting for him. From the glow of television playing some insipid sitcom, Yamazaki caught a glimpse of the fourth and then fifth page of the novel, noting how Rock was a fast reader but also paragraphs about the titular hobbledehoy meeting a woman and falling in love with her at first sight, describing her appearance and the subsequent porn scene in vomit-inducing, ambiguous purple prose with food metaphors.

"Is he gonna fuck a girl or a fruit salad?" Yamazaki quirked a brow en route to the sixth page.

"Who knows?" Rock shrugged.

Without thinking, the older man opened his big fat mouth and asked; "What type of girl would you fuck?"

Rock flinched and stared at him, all wide-eyed before a deep crimson spread over his cheeks and he looked down into his lap. "I-I doubt anyone would want me after everything I've put myself through. Before all of this, I was-I hadn't done anything... sexual before. I lost the V-card in the worst way thanks to Kain."

Yamazaki tried not to think of any other meanings 'thanks to Kain' could imply. "You didn't say yes so it doesn't count."

"Even though it's the same thing?" Rock asked, some of that despair he was predisposed to seeping in.

"If you wanna get stupidly technical, I guess it does count. But for the sake of spirituality or whatever the fuck you believe in, no it does not. When you find that special balance and a hot girl you click with, that's when you know you've lost the V card for real."

"I don't know if I can ever get to enjoy it even though I want to but…it's like…all I feel is wrong," Rock said, bending the corner of his book page and putting it on the coffee table.

"I can tell you right now; sex when you want it is fuckin' great."

"Y-yeah, that's what I hear."

Another pause filled the air while Rock pulled his knees to his chest. Yamazaki had to be careful about how he posed his next question. Hell, for all he knew, the kid probably only liked women. Which was fine. That was fine. It was fine.

"…Wanna try it then? There are some brothels downtown. Got some nice girls to get off with," the older man shrugged, and he was not surprised by Rock shaking his head.

"N-not with a stranger, especially a woman. I might freak out. I mean, I'd really want to try but…I don't know how."

"…Truth be told, methinks you need to get used to being close to somebody. Really find out that they don't intend to drug or rape or brainwash you. You know, feel your body is your own. That shit will make it all feel right."

"Uh-huh?" Rock lifted his head, eyes a bit wide with curiosity – and caution which was a given.

"I think it could be good for you," Yamazaki said, then felt that fucking flush creep down his neck. Being gentle, being sweet, all that shit, it just wasn't him. Yeah, he had fucked virgins before but not the sensitive ones. Not people with whom he had a positive relationship. And precisely because of that, he found himself wholly inadequate to be all forthcoming and mushy like…well, Terry. "Shit, I mean…no girls allowed, right? Let's just…I don't know, let's just fuckin' do it then. You and me. I'll be your sparring partner. You just gotta learn how to trust me."

"Th-that's…What if I can't?" Rock asked quietly. "What if I'm too far gone?"

"You don't know that."

"…But why me? Why do I deserve this?"

Lots of reasons really but not any Yamazaki could articulate well. He scratched the back of his head and settled for the least self-incriminating one. "Because I don't think it's cool you have to live your life on the edge thanks to cocksucker Kain and his pet horse when you're not under his wing anymore. He's a pretentious cunt and you deserve better than his memory. He's not your fate. Or something like that."

For a long time, Rock sat and mulled over this. For a really long time. Was he actually considering it? Perish the thought, that was just wishful thinking. It was probably a no for the night, a no forever. That was fine. It had to be. But on the other hand, the kid really fucking loved the concept of fate.

Wait, when did Yamazaki become such a sissy when it came to the simple act of meeting people in the middle? Maybe he should have taken in some of Sorimachi's charisma. The old man didn't fuck his underlings though, did he? No, of course, he did not. He just used his charm to get on people's good side. But Yamazaki didn't have any charm and he didn't want to think about the man after that nightmare, faintly hearing a question thrown his way.

"…What should I do?"

It took a minute for him to register it. Then came the recognition of the softness, the vulnerability, the curiosity laced in every word. Just great. He swallowed a lump and sat back on the couch, putting the empty can on the coffee table. "Sit on my lap. That way, you can scurry away if you get sick of it."

Very slowly, Rock climbed off the couch and tentatively straddled Yamazaki, putting his hands on the back of the couch for balance. His face was almost obscured by the shadow of his body, courtesy of the television's blue light. He took a few breaths, though it did very little against the way he was trembling.

Since he was only wearing a t-shirt and boxers, the friction of their bodies was instant and electrifying. There came another deep inhale while his body slowly settled, getting used to someone being this close to him again.

As fascinating as it was to watch, it was simultaneously torture to just sit here and watch his chest move, feel the heat of his body and the comfortable weight of his entire being. Yamazaki had to swallow hard and go very slowly, very gently put his hands on Rock's knees, then slide upwards like a snail across his skin.

When his hands reached the younger man's hips, giving them an affirming squeeze, something happened. It was not the response Yamazaki was hoping for but not the worst-case scenario either. Rock just sort of sagged on top of him, turning all limp and boneless like he had been knocked out in the blink of an eye.

"Hey, what the fuck?" Yamazaki wrapped one arm around the younger man to hold him steady and used the other to grab his jaw to see if he was awake. His gaze was blank and his breathing faint. It took a few gentle slaps across his cheek before he rebooted. "You alive?"

"…Huh?" Rock mumbled, dazed like he had just woken up. His brow pinched together while he was slowly recollecting the last thirty seconds.

"What the hell happened? You just bluescreened," Yamazaki contemplated putting him down on the couch again.

Some level of awareness came into Rock's eyes as he quickly reanimated, twitching to regain control of his body. "It happens sometimes when Kain would and-and missions…"

Oh. Flop.

"Right, wanna cut it here then?" Yamazaki asked although he should really just be the authoritative figure and pull the plug now. Surprisingly, Rock shook his head and straightened himself. He had gone a notch paler, his shaking had become worse, but he remained where he was. Yamazaki couldn't help but narrow his eyes. "I'm not sure I feel good groping a living corpse."

"It's fine," Rock breathed out, then sucked in a deep inhale before exhaling. Over and over. Again and again in a droning march until he slowly began to relax again.

Well, one couldn't help but admire the stubbornness.

Starting over, Yamazaki slid his hands over Rock's legs again, then gently rubbing his hips but stopping whenever the kid would bluescreen, only to reanimate a handful of moments later. In the end, Yamazaki settled for gentle touching – even if he felt the word gentle to be a bit oxymoronic for him. At least he could spend the time to really study and explore the person in his lap.

Rock when he wasn't crumbling under the weight of his despair was…fascinating. He responded coyly, leaning back to fight against the urge to tense up, reminding himself that yes, it was okay, forcing himself to relax in the middle of it. His body was growing warmer, his breathing becoming a little harsher, moving rhythmically with the hand that pressed against his skin slightly. God, he fit so perfectly, he smelled pretty fucking good, and he made some dangerously sexy hums.

It had been a very long time since Yamazaki had felt a tingle behind the barrier of his zipper. He sure as hell felt it now, felt how the heat rushed down there and burned at the shuddering sigh that came from Rock as he leaned back a notch more. Dangerous. Poisonous. Utterly and hopelessly selfish, Yamazaki leaned forward and pressed his lips against the younger man's chest, teeth and tongue aiming right at the nipple under a layer of fabric. As if an electric shock struck him, Rock jittered with a sharp yelp and then sagged momentarily.

"Good?" Yamazaki asked, with a mouthful of shirt.

"Y-yeah…I think so…?" Rock whispered and leaned forward a bit, sucking in a fast breath at the hands pressed and sliding all over his back. He sighed deeper, his body relaxing a little.

Damn if there ever came a day where he was shirtless…

Pulling back a bit, Yamazaki pretty quickly realized he was the one too far gone. That tingling had become outright torture and the urge to go on the prowl loomed in the back of his mind.

He was not one for foreplay or playing the long game. Toss the person around, pull their hair, pin them down, pound them harshly, make them writhe with some ruthless dirty talk, tie them, spank up so long as they wanted it, that was what he liked. Hell, if they wanted him to slap them, he'd do that – even if it felt weird to pimp-slap the persons he was fucking.

When he thought about it, that was probably because he only bedded one-night stands. That way, he never found a reason to bother with really learning the person's body or take the time to smother them in tender loving care.

Rock wasn't part of that. Not a lover. Not a stranger whose face would forgotten in the morning and identity would be forgotten in less than a day. Not a hooker. What was Rock exactly? Right now, he was the person who suddenly lifted his body when he felt the involuntary poke of a hardened dick against his thighs. He covered his mouth, eyes wide, face red. There were sizable damp spots spread across his chest. His hand pulled down the edge of his shirt and his entire body was trembling while he stepped backward around the coffee table.

"Fuck, it-it got too much. Dammit…"

"It's fine. Baby steps and shit. We got all the time in the universe, kid," Yamazaki stood up and swallowed hard. Suppose he'd have to occupy the bathroom for a minute or two. He moved around the table, stopping just right next to Rock while he slowly removed his hand from his face.

Without his jacket or gloves or bandages on, the healing scabs on his wrist were clear. But they'd become scars unfortunately. In fact, his arms were covered in old scars that could easily have been looked over due to their color. A track mark or two was there as well. One could only guess where they all came from but that wasn't a fair game to play.

After all, Yamazaki had scars of his own.

"I'm just gonna say this; you make some pretty noises. Fitting for a pretty boy with a pretty face," he smirked.

Rock grimaced although he couldn't quite hide the smile on his face. "Stop that. Fuck off."

He shuffled away from the common room, right around the television, and dropped onto the bed with a pouty huff. Not one for compliments. Which made sense. It wasn't due to the struggles he was carrying around, though that did exacerbate it. Yamazaki figured that part of Rock's issues resulting from everything that had was his lack of confidence in his worth – hereunder that of his body.

Thanks to Kain being a fucking asshole and Terry going…wherever the hell he went, Rock found himself down a rabbit hole where he thought he was as appealing as a bag of rotting garbage inside and out. It happened all too often with people at the hands of power-based maltreatment. Either they withered away from it, or they masked it.

Yamazaki was of the latter category, even if he didn't want to remember it had happened at all. He felt it himself as a child but that was years ago. Fucking ages. But at times, he wondered if the specter still lingered somewhere in the back of his mind, whispering hostile things hence why emotionally connecting to people didn't come naturally to him anymore let alone being courteous to them.

But this…this thing, whatever this was with Rock was an anomaly. He was not deeply connected to Rock but there was a need under all the sexual tension beyond feeling every inch of his skin and basking in the warmth of his body. Maybe hold him close?

No way in hell Rock was gonna hear all of that. No way Yamazaki would tell him that either.

If not for the sake of his own sanity, then for the sake of Rock who'd most likely not buy it. He'd feel pressured no doubt which was arguably even worse. Whatever happened tonight was already on a tightrope of further encounters or something best left forgotten. It all came down to Rock.

But Yamazaki wouldn't mind more of it.

1. For the uninitiated, Tengshe in Chinese means flying dragon snake or soaring snake depending on the characters used. It's taking the "ryu" and the "yama" parts of Yamazaki's full name which means dragon and mountain/hill respectively. And adding in his snake motif. A motif that will be touched upon mildly in later chapters. So think of it as Sorimachi calling Yamazaki a dragon snake flying in the mountains. In short, calling the guy cool and boosting his confidence.

2. "Komuso?" Yes, they were monks in the Zuke school of Zen Buddhism popular in the Edo period. Known for wearing a basket on their heads and playing the flute as meditation. And if you've played Okami, it all makes sense.