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Soul Pilot
by Verdigris Fire

 


". . . When the doctor has failed to heal you / When no medicine chest can make you well
When no counsel leads to comfort / When there are no more lies they can tell
No more useless information / And the compass spins between heaven and hell
Let your soul be your pilot / Let your soul guide you, he'll guide you well
~ And your eyes turn towards the window pane / To the lights upon the hill
The distance seems so strange to you now / And the dark room seems so still ~
Let your pain be my sorrow / Let your tears be my tears too
Let your courage be my model / That the north you find will be true
When there's no more useless information / And the compass turns to nowhere that you know well
Let your soul be your pilot / Let your soul guide you upon your way . . ."
~ "Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot" ~ Sting ~


~ Part One: Tiny Warrior ~

    "What did I tell you about starting snow-fights with Shin?"

    "But, you . . ."

    "He's Shin of the fucking Torrent, Shuu! Did the connection between water and snow just fail you, or are you genuinely suicidal?" Touma pressed his back tighter against the wall of the house, fussing nervously with the lock of blue hair that had blown into his eyes for the third time in as many minutes. "We are so doomed . . ."

    Shuu glowered at him, wondering - not for the first time - how someone that smart had ended up with a hairstyle that dumb. "You threw the first snowball!" he countered, peering past Touma at the side yard: all clear there.

    "I missed on purpose!" hissed Touma, demonstrating his superior aim with the broken-off tip of an icicle for a projectile and Shuu's nose for a target.

    "OW! Well, then why did you shout, 'Shuu, get him,' before it hit the ground!?"

    "Gods, Hard Head, I didn't think even you were stupid enough to whitewash him!"

    "That's Hard Rock to you, Vacuum-Boy, and the only stupid thing I did today was to let you talk me into . . ."

    "Oh, booo-oooys! Where aaaaare yooooou?"

    Simultaneous with Shin's falsetto summons, a series of stacatto taps on the window beside Shuu's ear almost sent him barreling for the trees. Of course, that would have been a pointless effort even if he hadn't realized in time that the sounds came from inside the house and not outside. Shin was just as good at gliding across the surface of the snow as Shuu was at getting himself mired in it. The thought of being shot in the back did not appeal.

    He whirled toward the glass, ready for another rousing pantomime of "Ryou, unlock the front door now or tweeze it out of your ass later," but Wild Fire was nowhere to be seen. Hell, old Sparky had probably laughed himself unconscious by now. Instead, Shuu found himself nose to nose with the other member of the hair-in-the-face brigade, looking snug - or smug, more like it - and content wrapped in a thick quilt, steaming tea-cup in hand, legs curled under him on the couch. Seiji wiggled his flawlessly manicured fingers in greeting, his customary smirk widening a bit as he pointed to the yard behind Shuu. The glass fogged slightly, and Shuu realized with something akin to horror that Seiji was chuckling.

    "Shit!" squeaked Touma, and dove around the corner.

    Shuu whirled again, just in time to get smacked in the face by a snow tsunami.

    By the time Shuu clawed his way out of the instant snowdrift Shin had dumped on him, Touma was on his third evasive circuit of the house, the path he'd worn in the snow swinging wisely wide of Shuu's burial site. Byakuen had joined in the chase also, though his sympathies remained unclear. Following in the impressive wake of blue-haired boy and white-furred tiger, Shin paused in front of Shuu, breathing hard as he leaned on his yari. He winked at his fallen friend companionably, grinning and obviously enjoying the hell out of himself.

    "No . . . hard feelings . . . right?" he panted.

    Shuu grumped at him noncommittally, brushing the snow from his smok-colored hair. Grudges weren't his thing, but that didn't mean he wouldn't get Shin back.

    "Eh . . . you'll feel much . . . much better . . . once I bury Touma." Shin turned with a downright sinister snicker, contemplating the many devious pranks played on him by a certain blue-haired Trooper over the years, and aimed his yari back the way he'd come. At the first sign of movement around the corner, he let loose with a variation of his special attack, creating a massive wall of snow even bigger than the one he'd tossed at Shuu. It hit the approaching form dead on, enveloping it a split second after it became recognizable.

    "Oh, dear," muttered Shin, green eyes gone wide under raised auburn brows.

    A sinister hump beneath the snow's surface began moving swiftly toward Shin, remnant of a Bugs Bunny cartoon gone horribly wrong . . . or a lost Tremors sequel. It closed almost half the distance between itself and its target before literally exploding, revealing a mock-angry but still genuinely intimidating Byakuen: a stripy juggernaut with revenge on the brain. Obviously keeping the relation between discretion and valor firmly in mind, Torrent retreated. Quickly.

    Ignoring Touma's triumphant hoot, Shuu shook the last of the snow from his jeans and mounted the porch. Fun was fun - he would've done the same thing in Ryou's place; Shin's too, to the best of his ability - but he was going inside now and, if Ryou didn't unlock the door, he'd just have to pay for a new one. Not that he didn't find the sound of Shin going down face-first under several hundred pounds of annoyed tiger highly satisfying . . . he'd have to set up Touma with a strategic snowball the same way first chance he got.

    Something in the corner of the porch caught his eye just as he was rearing back for his charge at the door: a tiny patch of red-splotched orange in all the white collected there. As he studied it, he realized that it was studying him right back, almost challenging him with its pale blue eyes . . . but it was all bluff. The little animal looked badly injured and scared to death. Shuu knelt beside it, freezing when the poor beast tried to get up and run from him, only falling back into the snow with a weak mewl of defeat.

    "What've you got there?" Touma asked cheerfully, giving the accompanying Byakuen a congratulatory pat as he squatted beside Shuu.

    "It's a kitten," Shuu replied, keeping his voice low and soothing. "Back off, Byakuen!"

    True to form, the tiger ignored him. Though he didn't seem to have anything unpleasant in mind for their visitor, his curious sniffing quickly earned him a warning swat on the nose from a tiny paw and a faint hiss that took up all the kitten's flagging strength. Impressed by its bravery - even if it was nothing but show - Shuu snatched it up before Byakuen could exact retribution; the bigger cat just sneezed, whuffing his feline offense at Touma's appreciative chuckle.

    "Little scrapper, ne?" He frowned sympathetically. "What's wrong with him?"

    "Just a bit bruised and squished," wheezed Shin, warily approaching the tiger-occupied porch, "but I'll be fine. Oh, what have you found, Shuu? Poor little creature! It's been mauled, hasn't it?"

    Nodding grimly, Shuu unzipped his jacket and tucked the bloody orange fuzzball inside, clutching it gently against his chest. "You couldn't have picked a better house to come to for help, little guy," he assured it.

    The kitten gazed up at him speculatively for a moment, seemed to decide that his intentions were good, closed its eyes and promptly went to sleep. Even Touma awwwed softly over that one; Shin melted into a gooey puddle of tears and general mush. Shuu ignored them both, keeping his jacket slightly open as he knocked on the door so Ryou could see exactly why he needed to give up and unlock it.

    "Oh, man, he's really torn up . . ." Ryou whistled as he let them in. Byakuen slipped past, neatly evading his master's attempts to scrape off his extra coat of snow.

    "Dad, look what followed us home," snickered Touma, grabbing Shuu's arm. "Can we keep it? Please, please, please!!!"

    "I need to take it to Seiji . . ." Shuu began, but Strata held on, intent on his joke.

    No help from Ryou. "I don't know, son; a few weeks from now, I don't want to be the one taking care of it."

    "Puh-LEEZE? I'll feed it and wash it and love it and hug it and call it George . . ."

    "Go clean your room and I'll think about it," Ryou giggled, starting to lose it.

    "Well, before I do that, we need to talk about raising my allow-AAAH!"

    Shin finally managed to shut him up by transferring a chunk of snow from his own shirt to Touma's, motioning Shuu to head   into the living room while he was distracted. Touma's attempts to escape fouled with Shin and Ryou's attempts to keep him from untucking his shirt and the three of them hit the floor. Shuu left them in a pile in the foyer, Shin sitting on Touma's chest while Ryou held a snowball in one hand and undid Touma's belt with the other.

    A remarkably high-pitched shriek followed him in, as did Byakuen. The tiger flopped down in front of the fireplace - like master, like pet - looking blissful as he let the flames melt away the snow and dry his fur. Nasutei was going to have a fit when she returned from her trip to find the water- and claw-sharpening damage done to that patch of carpet. Halo ignored them both, but that was fairly standard.

    "Seiji?" Shuu asked, hoping that Halo's earlier good mood hadn't been transitory.

    The blond glanced up from his book, lavender-gray eyes lighting briefly on Shuu's own blue ones before falling to regard the bundle of fur cradled against his chest. His brow furrowed slightly as he reached out for it with slender, long-fingered hands. He didn't ooh or aah over the tiny thing - Shuu would have been very surprised if he had - but as the wearer of Kourin, the armor of Life, hatred of suffering and the desire to heal it was part of his nature. A soft green glow enveloped the kitten lying limp in his grasp and Shuu watched, with a fascination that never faded no matter how many times he saw this, as the wounds in its body slowly knit together.

    "Is it going to be ok?" inquired a disheveled Touma, rebuckling his belt in the doorway. Ryou and Shin, triumphant, could be heard laughing in the kitchen over the beginnings of dinner.

    Seiji peered briefly under the kitten's tail. "He should be fine. He'll need to sleep for a while, though, and he's too young to be weaned yet . . . he'll require a lot of care."

    A huge grin split Shuu's face from ear to ear, drawing Seiji's lips up ever so slightly in sympathy. Hard Rock had such an honest, open, infectious smile that even Seiji's forced placidity sometimes felt its power. That lovely expression was fading, however, as Shuu looked again at their new pet - he hoped - and realized that it hadn't moved since he'd handed it over.

    "He's just resting," Seiji murmured soothingly, as if reading Shuu's thoughts - which, of course, he had - but faint doubt darkened the lavender in his eyes.

    "Are you sure?"

    As much to allay his own growing concern as to make Shuu feel better, Halo brought the kitten's face closer to his own. He was hoping to feel the tickle of its breath against his cheek. He felt considerably more than that as tiny, needle-sharp teeth pierced their full length into his nose.

    Seiji froze.

    Shuu panicked.

    Touma laughed his ass off.

    Having made his point, the kitten released his grip and slipped from Seiji's unresisting fingers into his lap, making himself impudently comfortable there. Within seconds, he was asleep again. Seiji regarded him with an unreadable expression, brushing away the single drop of blood that welled from his nose and studying it blandly. "So," he said at last, "what do you plan to name him?"

    "Touma-ko," Touma gasped from the floor, his face gone a shade of blue almost as deep as Tenku's. "After . . . we have to . . ." The rest was lost in peals of hysterical laughter.

    "You're not angry?" Shuu couldn't believe that his newfound friend was still in one piece. Not that he'd really expected Seiji to wring his neck . . . no, come to think of it, that's exactly what he'd expected, and was still worried about.

    "No," assured Seiji, glancing pointedly at the still convulsing Touma, "not at him. It wasn't intended to hurt, just to establish that he's still sizing me up. He has a warrior's heart, this one, and great strength for one so small. However," - He carefully handed the purring puffball back to Shuu, who accepted him gratefully - "perhaps he is better off in your care. He seems to have accepted you already, and he is a bit . . ." Seiji pursed his lips around the word, as if it tasted foul, "cute."

    Grateful beyond words for Kourin's gift, Shuu dropped Seiji a melodramatic bow and backed subserviently out of his presence. Touma looked breathlessly up at Seiji, at Shuu and the kitten, back at Seiji, and succumbed to yet another giggle fit. Seiji stared coldly at him, but his icy eyes sparkled with a genuine humor vastly unlike their usual distant condescension.

    "Shuu?"

    He paused, expecting to be asked to take Touma away as well. "Yeah?"

    "Name him Shuu-ko," Seiji said quietly, "it suits his spirit." His pale gaze locked briefly with Hard Rock's, that Shuu-inspired smile still curving his mouth - widening slightly, in fact - before he returned to his book.

    Though he wasn't sure why, Shuu found himself blushing, a hand rising self-consciously to his hair, both aggravated and exhilarated. Real compliments from Seiji were even rarer gems than real smiles, and the two together were a heady combination. The cheerful grin he'd already been wearing stretched even further as he strode into the kitchen. With his back turned, he missed Seiji's surreptitious, wistful look, and Touma was too busy hyperventilating to notice.


    They snitched a baby-doll bottle from Nasutei's collection of childhood toys - another hissy fit in the making - pierced the nipple with a heated needle and filled it with warmed milk. Shuu-ko wasn't terribly sure about the rubber nipple or the intentions of the person wielding it, especially since the last bottle he'd been near had contained shampoo for his first bath, but he eventually took to it. A trip to the store yielded a litter box and other supplies, including cans of kitten food. The little one was a bit young for weaning but, without a mother to provide the ultimate in nutrition, the special formula soft food was the next best thing, and better suited to his needs than cow's milk.

    Curious but confused, Shuu-ko only smooshed his face clumsily into the soft mash, followed by his paws; apparently the stuff was far more intriguing as a toy than as a food. He'd stay on the bottle for a while, which meant frequent nursing until he moved on to something more substantial. Shuu found it hard to be annoyed, even refusing Touma's offer to take over the night shift. Strata and his screwy circadian rhythms would be up all night anyway, but Shuu-ko was just so fragile, so tiny and trusting in his big hands . . . he couldn't bear to let go.

    "Give it a few days," Touma chuckled, "and you'll be begging for a night off . . ."

    As it turned out, the feedings weren't nearly as disruptive to Shuu's sleep that first night as the kitten's endless energy. Having slept all day, Shuu-ko was now ready to play all night and determined that Shuu should play with him. Maybe we should have named you Touma-ko after all, he thought muzzily as a string of mews and a bouncing pressure on his chest informed him that the ragged edge of his quilt was no longer the diversion it had been.

    He'd already tried leaving the kitten in the blanket-stuffed box they'd made up for him, but the piteous crying that that engendered was far worse than the bouncing. Sighing, he sat up and tipped a gritty-eyed glance at his bedside clock - 3:13 am, still early for the next bottle - before plucking the orange fuzzball off his lap and glaring playfully at it. When his nose proved out of nip range, Shuu-ko contented himself with batting at a lock of his sleep-mussed hair.

    Shuu chuckled. "I think maybe Seiji fixed you a little too well . . ."

    "Sorry for that."

    Shuu-ko would never know how close he came to becoming an orange splotch on the ceiling.

    "Shit, Seiji! Aren't you the one always pestering us to knock?"

    "Now, now. Such language in front of the children," Halo smirked, sitting on Shuu's bed. "Here, let me see him again."

    "He still doin' all right?" Shuu asked around a huge yawn, handing Shuu-ko over.

    "More than all right. Look." He traced the line of what had once been a terrible belly wound but was now no more than a       crease in the orange coat. "I didn't heal him completely - I was wary of using too much of Kourin's energy on a creature so small - but even the marks that remained have almost faded. It's further proof of his strength," - he set the kitten on the bed between them, raising his eyes to Shuu's - "and of the care he's received."

    Grinning, blushing, almost squirming under Seiji's intense violet gaze, Shuu wondered again what he had done to deserve so much of Halo's attention today. He might have blamed the mellowing influence of Shuu-ko but, now that he thought about it, he could remember many instances in the past months when he'd caught Seiji looking at him a bit longer than strictly necessary, resting a hand on his shoulder as he slipped by in the hall . . . so many small things. The only reason he'd noticed today was that Shuu-ko had given Seiji more excuses for casual touches and glances than usual. He pondered that for a moment, but his sleep-muzzy mind wasn't quite up to processing the information.

    Seiji just regarded him, unspeaking, picking idly at the hem of his robe. The green silk set off the smooth whiteness of his skin like a cameo carved of alabaster and jade. He'd obviously just gotten up, but not a single golden strand of his hair was out of place, the bastard. Shuu felt extremely outclassed in his own raggedy boxers and matted grayish-black mane. The unbroken silence was beginning to weigh on him.

    "So, uh, what woke you up so early? I didn't think I was snoring that loud."

    "I don't think you've gotten a chance to snore tonight, Shuu," Seiji pointed out. "No, it was just . . . dreams."

    "Bad dreams?"

    "Not at all," he smiled and, amazingly, blushed.

    Shuu stared, dumb-founded, as Seiji - unflappable, impenetrable, immovable Seiji - dropped his gaze and actually squirmed. Ok, so it was a subtle squirm, but it was a squirm nonetheless. Still not making the connection but overjoyed at a chance to poke fun at the unpokeable, Shuu grinned and sidled closer to his friend. "So it was a good dream, hmmm? A very good dream? What was her name . . . ?"

    The expression on Seiji's face passed through embarrassment on the way to annoyance, swerved over to faint hope, took a sharp right at regret and finally settled on embarrassment again, tinged with sorrow. A mask that Shuu had grown unaccustomed to sprang up behind Seiji's eyes with the sharp click of his resolve snapping back into place. He rose with more speed and less grace than was normal. There was something very sad in the set of his body, something that drew Shuu to his feet with vague thoughts of comfort, something that spoke of loss even before gain.

    "Shuu . . . I should go . . ."

    "You don't have to . . ."

    Seiji's face was as blandly unreadable as a marble statue, tinged a faint blue by the touch of moonlight, but the pale gems that served him for eyes glittered with what Shuu was shocked to recognize as unshed tears. The sight took Shuu's breath away as surely as a surprise punch in the stomach, and hurt almost as much. He could feel Seiji's pain and indecision through the psychic link, but Halo was more than strong enough mentally to keep him from pinning it down. He moved closer almost unconsciously, until their faces were barely an inch apart.

    "Yes," Seiji murmured, trying not to stare at Shuu's lips so close to his own, the broad lines of his bare chest, and failing miserably, "I really think I do."

    He backed up a step, smiling sadly but reassuringly, and that might well have been the end of it. However, just before Seiji could turn toward the door and make good his escape, Shuu-ko, who had been leaning forward to bat at a string hanging from Shuu's well-worn boxers, lost his balance and tumbled off the bed. He ended up hanging from the quilt by one claw, his paw twisted back, mewling in pain and upset. Seiji and Shuu bent down, reaching for him at the same instant.

    The impact of Shuu's forehead with Seiji's nose was ominously loud in the peaceful darkness . . .


~ Part Two: Tiny Matchmaker ~

    Spitting out every foul word he'd ever learned - and making up a few for luck - Shuu completed the aborted kitten rescue, tossed Shuu-ko back on the bed and knelt beside Seiji, his own ears still ringing from the collision. He knew he'd given much worse than he'd got; Touma called him Hard Head with good reason. His slighter friend had crumpled without a sound - well, if you didn't count that awful crunch - hitting the floor in a loose fetal position. When he brushed aside Seiji's hair, he found an ugly bruise already forming where nose met brow, blood oozing from the split above his left eye and from both nostrils.

    Shuu hid his sore face in his hands. "I guess that's one way to keep him from leaving . . ."

    "Mew," offered Shuu-ko.

    "You stay out of it!"

    Justice or no, Shuu gave more than a little thought to getting while the getting was good. He was doomed anyway, so snatching a head start couldn't possibly make things worse. Better yet, he could move Seiji into the hallway, plant a plausible obstacle on the floor and tell him he'd fallen. Yeah, that could work . . .

    He gathered the limp body into his arms and stood, eyeing the door, self-preservation warring with what he knew were logically pointless concerns. Seiji's soft groan - almost a sigh - tugged at his heart even as he reminded himself he needn't worry. He knew well enough that any injury insufficient to kill a yoroi-wearer outright could be easily healed when he awoke, especially if it was Kourin no Seiji. Still, he was torn by unwelcome remembrances, dreams of yoroi scattered at his feet by the evil he'd feared to find within himself. Worse yet, real memories of a broken Rajura becoming a broken Seiji, felled by his own hand.

    In his arms, Seiji groaned again, his wounded brow contracting as he tried to shape the pained, confused exhalation into words. No, not just words, a name. Shuu's name.

    Damn it.

    "It's all right, Seiji-kun, I'm here," he soothed, laying his friend carefully on the bed. He dipped a handful of tissues into the water-glass on his dresser and tried to clean Seiji's bloody face without causing further hurt. Seiji flinched dazedly, eyelids fluttering. "Seiji? You awake enough to call on Kourin?"

    Seiji needed assistance to get his hand up to his forehead without smacking himself in the face, and even then Shuu had to hold his arm steady. The flash of Kourin's power tinged the room with verdigris fire as Seiji attended to his injury, and Shuu let go as soon as he felt enough strength in Seiji's arm to support it. The hand stayed even after the light had faded, obscuring the eye that his hair did not. Shuu was somewhat relieved to be spared that icy regard.

    "Uh, Seiji?" Shuu inquired cautiously. "We . . . you, um . . . you hit your head. You ok?"

    "I'll be fine," his voice was thick with sarcasm and residual dizziness, "Shuu-kun."

    A full minute passed in silence.

    Suddenly, Seiji's shoulders began to convulse. Already a bit freaked out - nothing like breaking your best friend's face to end the day right - Shuu thought at first that he was sobbing, a concept that literally terrified him. Had he hurt his friend that badly? Was it possible to hurt the unswervingly stoic Halo that badly?

    No, he realized at last, Seiji wasn't crying . . . Seiji was laughing. Hysterically, as a matter of fact, which was almost more startling than tears. Shuu found himself chuckling too, though he had no idea at what.

    "Care to let me in on the joke?"

    "No need," Seiji snickered, "you're looking at the punchline."

    "I don't follow . . ."

    "I'm not surprised; I've been having trouble myself." Seiji lowered his hand, gazing up at Shuu as his fit of humor lapsed into intermittent giggles; there was still some blood on his face but the injuries were gone. Shuu dampened another wad of tissues and handed it to Seiji so he could finish the clean-up. "I just never expected to be the one caught denying the true spirit of something . . . or getting punished so blatantly for it."

    "Punished? What do you mean?"

    Seiji smiled down at the purring orange kitten pressing its forehead into his palm, taking it gently by the scruff and laying it on his chest. Shuu-ko cocked his head at Seiji, then Shuu, mewed emphatically and planted a pink-tongued kitten kiss on the edge of Seiji's mouth before jumping down to attack his sash. He managed to untie it and pull Seiji's silk robe partway open before Shuu could grab and scold him, blushing quite charmingly at the reminder that Halo often slept in the altogether. Seiji just laughed again, making no move to hide the long white thigh and hip that Shuu-ko had exposed.

    "Nice to know you approve at last, you little meddler," he murmured, turning back to Shuu. "What I mean is, that little beast bit me for doubting his spirit. I shouldn't have doubted that he had the strength and the will to survive, with a little help. Speaking of which . . ."

    He reached for Shuu as he tried to sit up, still a bit woozy even after Kourin's touch, and Shuu wrapped an arm around his shoulders to pull him up. Rising to his knees, he winced as the sudden change in altitude set off one last throb in his abused head. He rested his hands on Shuu's chest, his temple on the offered shoulder. Hard Rock slid his arm around Seiji's waist almost unconsciously, pulling the other man closer to steady him.

    "And did I try to dent your skull for the same reason?" he inquired innocently.

    "Something like that," Seiji whispered, his lips sakura-petal soft on Shuu's throat.

    Shuu blinked. "I don't understand . . ." he began, a little shakily, but even as he said it he knew it was a lie. He might not, but his body most certainly did. His hips responded to the subtle pressure against them in kind, and he gasped at the feel of Seiji's erection along his thigh. When Seiji raised his head again, his intoxicating eyes - their gaijin pale, their nipponjin curve - invaded Shuu like a powerful anesthetic, wringing every ounce of resistance from the subject of their scrutiny but energizing him at the same time.

    "I shouldn't have doubted," - Seiji's lips brushed ever so lightly across Shuu's forehead; in a spark of green radiance, the purpling bruise there vanished - "that you have the strength," - another soft almost-kiss on his temple - "and the will," - the bridge of his nose - "to make your own choice, Shuu-chan," - the corner of his mouth - "with a little help . . ."

    The kiss was almost chaste. Seiji's lips parted only slightly, just enough to let him nibble delicately on Shuu's lower lip, but he didn't try to force his tongue into the other man's mouth or in any way deepen the intimacy. There was only invitation, inquiry, the barest touch of Seiji's mind, and the promise of oh so much more: but only if he wanted it.

    Seiji allowed him to break the kiss and draw back, keeping his eyes averted as Shuu stared at him, dumbfounded. He made no attempt to force Shuu's decision. This was not the place for pride or demands, not when friendship - no, so much more than friendship; there were no words for the bonds between the wearers of the yoroi - hung in the balance.

    Long moments passed in silence, Shuu neither pushing him away nor pulling him closer, just trembling. When broad, strong fingers finally lifted his chin, forcing him to look again into Shuu's wide blue eyes, Seiji knew that he'd made a huge, costly mistake. He'd done this too soon, or more likely much too late. Their role as friends was long established, and had the power of the Dynasty War behind it - or maybe Shuu just had no interest in another man. Shuu looked terrified and apologetic all at once, the picture of a child on Christmas morn, receiving a hideous gift from a beloved relative he didn't wish to upset.

    "Seiji, I . . ." Shuu breathed, but he couldn't find the words.

    "I'm sorry; I had no right." Flustered and angry at himself, Seiji was having trouble connecting his inability to back off with Shuu's arm still around him. "I knew I shouldn't have come in here . . ."

    "I had no idea . . . I . . . shit, Seiji, how long? Why didn't you tell me?"

    "Common sense? Obviously temporary; head injury'll do that," he mumbled, but Shuu wasn't paying any attention.

    "We've wasted so much time!"

    "I'll just . . . what?"

    The ardent crush of Shuu's mouth against his own was a deliciously effective answer.

    Shuu somehow managed to deposit Shuu-ko in his box on the other side of the bed, discard his own boxers and maneuver Seiji most of the way out of his robe, all without once breaking the kiss. His hands found their way inevitably to the mass of spun sunshine that was Seiji's hair, tangling his fingers in the warm silk of it as his tongue explored the warmer silk of Seiji's mouth. Their sexes were separated now by only the thinnest of barriers, jousting and jockeying for position. Nothing had ever felt so natural as the swordsman's arm around his neck, the other hand firm and insistent on his rear, and he wondered dreamily why on earth it had taken him so long to discover that. He began lowering Seiji onto the bed.

    An eyeblink later, he found himself flat on his back, his head smarting from the force with which he'd been thrown against the headboard. He was very naked, very aroused, and very much without Seiji. Shuu scowled. Playing hard to get now? Where had he got to so . . .

    Oh.

    So much for hesitation. Seiji crouched on the old army surplus trunk at the foot of Shuu's bed - painted a day-glo orange that had always offended Halo before - regarding him with the hungry, feral eyes of a forest cat. The green robe clung to his flanks like shadows in the foliage, flowing and falling away behind him like water in the moonlight as he crawled - stalked - forward, nipping and licking possessively at Shuu's body as he all but climbed him. Ankles, kneecaps, thighs, belly, chest, throat; all parts of his prey were tasted, smelled, catalogued. Finally, with a playful chuckle, he bit Shuu gently on the nose.

    Shuu tried to capture him again, but Seiji was in a superior position and far too quick. He wriggled back, crouching over Shuu's legs, his chin scraping slowly down Shuu's abdomen until he felt a fleshy dagger at his throat, . His exotic eyes widened as he noticed the sheer size of it for the first time. Dagger, nothing, there was a bloody sword jutting from the fog-bank of Shuu's pubic hair, and a broad one. Who better than him, then, to wield it? He smirked thinly, a bit annoyed at the intrusion of such trite paperback cliches. Still . . .

    Smiling beatifically, eyes closed, Shuu surrendered to the flood of sensation pulsing in his groin, unaware of the soft moans escaping him and not up to giving a damn anyway. All his attention was focused on the cool hands circling his penis, the sweet expert pressure of fingers intimately acquainted with this model of machinery, and then Seiji's mouth closed around the crown of his sex and he completely forgot to breathe. His eyes flew open, his head falling to the side as the heavy muscles of his hips convulsed under those heavenly caresses . . . big mistake.

    "Mew?"

    He could see Seiji's eyes, bright and fierce, glimmering from between his own legs, but another set of slanting, pale blue eyes regarded him from the dresser. Shuu-ko was peeking at him over the side of his box. Shuu found himself unwillingly looking at his own situation from a different perspective.

    "Uh, Seiji?"

    "Hmmm?" Halo asked around a mouthful of Hard Rock.

    The effect of that vibration almost made him forget where he was again. "Seiji, wait a sec . . . ooh . . . no, wait! I can't . . . " He pushed feebly at Seiji's shoulder, jumping when he came out of Seiji's mouth with an audible pop of suction. "I can't do this, Seiji!"

    "You look perfectly capable to me," Seiji replied, studying the unsubsided erection in his hands. He gave it an experimental tug, smiling as Shuu bucked and moaned quite satisfactorily.

    "Shuu-ko's watching." Unable to think clearly - make that, at all - with Seiji still running his fingers lazily up and down his shaft, Shuu smacked the hands away and pulled the blankets over himself almost demurely.

    Seiji just stared at him. "You're joking."

    "It's like trying to have sex in front of a kid," he mumbled, "it . . . well, it just feels wrong. Sorry?"

    "I don't want an apology, Shuu," replied Seiji bluntly, "I want to get laid." He sounded angry and slightly hurt as he sat up, draping his long legs over the side of the bed, but the soft gray glimmer of his eyes spoke of profound amusement. Stretching langorously, he leaned back so that the pale length of his penis rose from its golden bed to pulse softly against his belly. Gods above, but he was sexy! His seductive, over-the-shoulder gaze was like a violet mist in the room, making it hard to breathe. "Unless you were just humoring me . . ."

    "No! God, I want you, Seiji! I thought that was obvious! It's just . . ."

    "Well, then," Seiji purred, running an elegant hand the length of his body until it was lost in the gilded cloud of his hair, "what do you intend to do about it?'


    Touma marked the place in his book when he heard the knock on his bedroom door and sat up. Before his feet even hit the floor, however, Shuu burst in, dressed in boxers that had seen better days and clutching a familiar box. His face flushed with what looked as much like exertion as embarrassment, he shoved the box into Touma's hands without preamble, spun on his heels and strode out again.

    "Uh, Shuu?"

    "Don't ask!" Hard Rock grated, the closing door covering his retreat.

    "Ooo-kay . . ."

    "Mew?" inquired the kitten, peering up at him from the depths of the box.

    "Your guess is as good as mine, bud . . . huh?" Had that little yelp in the hallway been Shuu? As he strained to listen, Shuu's door closed forcefully and he heard something smacking into it from the other side, hard. Concerned, he reached out through the psychic link, intending to ask Hard Rock if he was ok, but the broadcast from the other man's mind almost knocked him over with its intensity. Strata's eyes flew open wide, almost as wide as his smile.

    "Mew?"

    "I'll tell you when you're older."

    He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop. Shuu would be furious. Seiji would likely rip out his liver . . . no, screw it, this was worth a liver, easy, maybe a kidney or two for good measure.

    "Remember, kiddo, Uncle Touma is a lousy role model . . . oh, my . . . "


    Seiji literally pounced on him before he could even make it back to his room, dragging him inside and throwing him against the door with a frighteningly realistic snarl. Shuu's boxers were around his ankles, his penis in Seiji's mouth, in seconds. Not to be denied this time, Seiji wrapped an arm around Shuu's thighs, the other stroking the taut muscles of his belly, stretching up to tease each of his nipples in turn as he suckled his friend's shaft with a vengeance. Shuu tried futilely to stay silent, knowing that his every hungry noise was being transmitted through the door into the hallway. God, it was so good, he was on the edge of orgasm almost instantly.

    ~ Wait! ~ he sent through the link, grabbing Seiji's wrists and trying to pull him away; the other man clung to him like a drowning swimmer to a lifeguard. ~ I wanted this to last. ~

    ~ Relax, love, this is just the appetizer. We've all night for the main course . . . ~

    Shuu didn't need to be told twice, especially as Seiji began taking him even deeper into his throat, that agile tongue curling around his pulsing sex and lapping at the tip with every thrust. He could hear the creaking and rattling of his bedroom door as he convulsed helplessly. Seiji was reading his body and mind perfectly, matching his pace to exactly what Shuu desired, completely in control yet completely under Shuu's direction. Soon, oh far too soon, Shuu's completion flowed in a hot white flood down Seiji's throat, leaving him breathless and glad of the support of the door behind him.

    Smiling slyly at him, his lips glistening with Shuu's very essence, Seiji stood and kissed his prey deep and sweet. Shuu still had hold of Seiji's wrists as he wrapped his arms around his friend and now lover, pinning Seiji's arms behind his back. Seiji made a small, indignant noise into Shuu's mouth but made no move to break the kiss. His subtle, squirming attempts to twist free sent delightful sensation straight to the need between Shuu's legs, already beginning to swell with new desire. He found himself just staring at Seiji's terrifying beauty, at the secretive, depthless glimmer of his lavender eyes, wondering if it was safe for him to let go.

    "Tiger by the tail?" Seiji inquired sweetly.

    "I've already kicked out Shuu-ko; let's not bring Byakuen into this, shall we?"

    Halo wriggled a little more forcefully, looking annoyed and ever so slightly nervous. "I can't do anything else for you with my hands caught, you know," he said reasonably.

    "You've spent all day complementing me on my strength and my warrior's spirit," Shuu responded softly. "I thought maybe you wanted a demonstration . . ."

    By crossing his wrists over Seiji's, he was able to grasp the smaller man's buttocks and lift him up without freeing him. Off-balance, Seiji instinctively wrapped his legs around Shuu's waist, renewing his efforts to free his arms. He froze when he felt Shuu's now fully-erect sex throbbing against his anus, his eyes closing and a look of almost panic tightening his features.

    "Seiji-chan?" Realizing how badly frightened his friend was, Shuu tried to put him down, but his position now had him trapped as surely as Seiji. "I . . . we don't have to, you know. Really, it's probably best we don't, I mean, I don't have any lube or anythin' . . ."

    "Shuu?"

    "Yeah?"

    "Shut up and fuck me!"

    Seiji tightened his legs and thrust his hips down, taking almost Shuu's entire length into himself in one motion. Shuu felt the intense pleasure of the tight velvet flesh surrounding him, but at the same time Seiji's pain sizzled hot and bright across the psychic link. Seiji threw his head back, a breathless scream escaping him, and Shuu had to turn him so that his back was against the wall or risk dropping him. He was starting to panic himself; he couldn't withdraw, he couldn't let go, and the last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt Seiji.

    "I'm sorry!" The tears escaping from Seiji's tightly-closed eyes washed cold over Shuu's heart. He pressed his lips to Seiji's cheek, kissing them away. "I'm so sorry . . ."

    ~ I won't break; the pain will fade. ~ A mouth captured his again in a hungry kiss, the lean, muscled body impaled on his own beginning to move in that most ancient of rhythms; the threshhold passed, control now shared, there was no more fear in his sending, only desire. ~ You worry so much about hurting me, Shuu-chan, about hurting us. Don't worry. Don't think. ~ Seiji had managed to disentangle his arms and he now twined them around Shuu, his nails digging into Shuu's back. ~ Just be here with me. ~

    Comforted, Shuu tried a few gentle, experimental thrusts of his hips. Seiji moaned in pure ecstasy, his head falling back, and Shuu tasted the pulse throbbing in his exposed throat. ~ Shut up and fuck me? ~ he sent ~ That's Rei? Mmm, maybe I should let you teach me some of those "good manners" you've been pestering me about, after all. ~

    ~ Fine. Great. Lesson one. When teacher tells you to shut up: shut up. ~ he admonished, and proceeded to do things with his internal muscles that made Shuu howl.

    The dresser was only a few steps away and, once he rested Seiji on it, gave Shuu back the use of his arms. One he wrapped around Seiji's waist, holding his hips in place as Seiji arched his back and laid one leg over Shuu's shoulder. The other hand closed on Seiji's sex, beginning to work it in time with Shuu's deep, slow thrusts. Seiji writhed, moaning helplessly, making Shuu feel more than a little smug; it wasn't easy to crack Halo's composure, much less shatter it. Seiji's hair was a wild mess now, tangled and sweat-drenched.

    He kept his movements carefully controlled until he felt Seiji start to slip over the edge beneath him. The approaching climax would make the pain easier to bear, he hoped, as he bent over Seiji and began to thrust harder, faster. Seiji whimpered, burying his tear-stained face in Shuu's neck, the pain/pleasure/torture of it almost too much to bear. His teeth sank into Shuu's shoulder at the last moment, muffling the harsh cry that accompanied the splash of his seed across both their straining bellies.

    The sudden tensing of Seiji's body, the breathless squeeze of every muscle was enough to drag Shuu over with him. He thrust one last time, harder and deeper, and froze, trembling, as the life spurted out of him and into Seiji once again. The embrace of Seiji's mind was incredible, intoxicating, absorbing, but he swore he could feel the other Ronins as well at that ultimate moment, their emotions seeping in around the edges. Seiji's body around him felt almost like a mouth for a moment, almost like a hand, and he realized suddenly that they weren't the only ones having a bit of fun tonight. Talk about something in the air! Then, it was gone as quickly as it had come, and he collapsed onto Seiji, finding it a fight just to drag enough air into his burning lungs.

    Seiji was completely limp, eyes closed, head turned to the side, but Shuu's gentle withdrawal was still enough to trigger a soft whimper of pain and loss. He reached blindly out, almost tumbling off the dresser in the process, until Shuu gathered him up and carried him to the bed. Shuu was still a bit woozy from severe lack of blood to the brain, and managed to not only drop Seiji on the bed but fall rather hard on top of him. Seiji groaned, then giggled, slapping Shuu on the butt until he rolled over and then curling up in the crook of his arm. They just lay there for a very long time, supremely comfortable.

    "Where's that warrior's spirit now?" Seiji finally asked, sleepily playful.

    Shuu mock-grumbled at him. "Isn't the battle over?"

    "Well," offered yet a third voice, "that depends on how you plan to pay the baby-sitter."

    Somehow, Shuu was neither surprised nor really upset to turn and find Touma smirking suggestively at them from the doorway. Something about this night reeked of interference and of fate, a long-awaited deepening of the ties between all five of them, and he was beyond questioning it at this point. The sight of the box in Touma's hand, however, and the little fuzzy face peering out of it at him, was enough to start him trying to pull a blanket over himself again. Seiji groaned melodramatically.

    "You're not getting anything if you bring 'the baby' back in, I can tell you that!"


    "I knew it!" Ryou grumbled, "Didn't I say I'd end up taking care of him?"

    Behind him, Shin giggled. "Can you blame them, Ryou-chan? Would you have wanted an audience in here a little while ago?"

    Ryou cocked his hand back as if threatening to toss the box, kitten at all, at the man in his bed. Not fooled for an instant, Shin still squeaked endearingly and scrambled forward to rescue the innocent puffball from the evil Wild Fire, slapping Ryou's hand for being such a cad. He set the box and its contents carefully on Ryou's dresser before allowing himself to pay full attention to the man nibbling on the back of his neck.

    "I'm starting to think you put something in our dinner, you little sneak."

    Shin giggled even harder, but never denied a thing.

    "Come back to bed, Ryou. I've a feeling our tiny one is going to have to get used to this sort of thing in the house . . ."

    "Oh, you don't mind an audience? Why did you kick out Byakuen, then?"

    Torrent scowled. "That was personal. Besides, every time you make a noise, he glares at me like I'm a youja or something."

    "We can always go get Shuu to protect you."

    "No," Shin spun in Ryou's embrace, painting his face with kisses. "I want you to myself a bit longer. Let Touma have his fun first, hmm?"

    "Touma? I thought I felt Shuu with . . . oh." He actually blushed as he picked up on the activities in Shuu's room, and the happy sandwich his three friends had become. "Oh, my."

    "Just shut up and kiss me, you prude," Shin chuckled.