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Taboo

by Mina

Standard disclaimers for "Saiyuki" apply.  [Insert boring rant about the pointlessness of suing here.]  Now that we've taken care of that, let's move right along.

Warnings:  Foul language and shounen ai.  SPOILERS up to episode sixteen of the anime and for "Gaiden."  Takes plus roughly around episode seven.

A/N:  Hee, this might get me hanged, but oh well.  ::waves her "Tenpou/Kenren or Hakkai/Gojyo-4-ever!" flag::  Part of a series of oneshots, this is merely the first.  ::insert drumroll and evil cackle…or not::

A/N II:  If the format seems a little odd, that's because it's first-person with point-of-view shift going between Hakkai and Gojyo.  It's a new style to me, but I was really happy with the way it turned out.  ^_^  For the truly lost  ^^; --- the format goes Hakkai, Gojyo, Hakkai, Gojyo, third-person omniscient narrator.

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[Fly Free, Reminisce…]

I already knew him.

Our prefecture is small, you understand, and even when you live in a different town, news travels fast and you know someone---or know *of* someone, at least.

…I suppose it's not fair to say I knew him---not at all in the way I know him now---because what I knew of him wasn't the truth.  How could I know the truth, conceive of the truth, content as I was to live in my world of scholarship, books, scrolls, and teaching; my world of self-chosen isolation, small town, friendly and quiet neighbours, and my beloved Kanan?

And though I am ashamed to admit it, I bought into the rumours of the time, and I shunned him---shunned him because he was what I was myself, what I would become, and what I refused to admit existed in my life.

Taboo.

We heard the stories, in our little village, of a young man with eyes and hair the blood-crimson of the final rays of sunset.  Oh, not everyone knew the truth that I knew---not everyone had access to the knowledge I did.  They thought him merely a man of uniqueness, of immeasurable and unexplainable luck and talent.  I knew the truth, though---and I kept that truth to myself, fearing what it might reveal.  Not about this faceless man I avoided, no; I feared what it would reveal about *me.*

Half human and half water-demon, he could best any man in a contest of strength, and the magic of adamantium flowed through his veins to his beck and call, in order to become a crescent-bladed chain halberd whenever he so desired its presence.  A card-sharp, chain smoker, rakehell, lush…he possessed no redeeming qualities in the least to my then-simple mind, this near-legendary Sha Gojyo.

I avoided town when I heard tell that he was coming; I didn't know why I did such a thing at the time, and even now I question if I understand my reasons.  It was like an instinct that warned me to stay home, to keep Kanan with me all night, not to open my doors or windows lest I *see*…

I learned, though, that you can't run and hide from fate.

I finally saw him, fabled creature that he was, probably a week before my…my fall from complete humanity.  Then again, if my memories serve me correctly, perhaps I am better off as I am now.  No longer a bigot, no longer racist, no longer self-serving…

But I digress.

Kanan's arm linked through mine, we wound our way through the marketplace, idly looking for some trinket or bauble to decorate our kitchen table.  It had taken me weeks of careful saving, but I had promised her something special for our anniversary, and look of joy on her face that day made my heart sing in echo.

One of my youngest students, Dou Reishun, ran past us, bumping into Kanan's leg with a giggle and a sheepish smile before she ran off.  I smiled indulgently, telling myself that tomorrow I would lecture the students on the virtues of patience and taking life slowly.

Being attentive with a hawker moments later, Kanan enraptured with a leaded-glass candle set that he was intent on showing her, we heard a shrill scream with drew immediate attention.  I turned automatically, heart tightening with dread and anticipation.  Hindsight makes me realise what a coward I could be at times; working with children all day, I was always wary of shrieks and cries of such nature.

Reishun was partially obscured by the crowd, but I could see her lying on the ground, dust flying up, her pretty new tunic that she'd so proudly shown me earlier covered in mud along with her face.  I thought, at first, that she'd tripped and fallen into one of the mud-ruts left by the passage of vehicles, and I quickly left Kanan's side to go and help Reishun to her feet.

When others in the crowd took up the screams, halfway to my destination, I realised that my assumption wasn't correct, and that I was, perhaps, in over my head.

Living in a territory "governed" by the fierce and merciless bastard demon, Hyakugan Maoh, we were used to odd magic constructs wandering the fringe of the town.  However, they'd never entered the town itself, and we were all unprepared for the sight of little Reishun, cowering on the ground while a large, three-headed canine overshadowed her.

I prided myself on knowledge; on the things I know and could learn from my library and the various others I had access to.  But I'd never seen anything like this creature, this thing with more teeth than I could count with my then two good eyes.  Saliva dripped from the open jaws, hissing when it hit the ground, and I winced.  Acidic, and terribly so if it could do that to *dirt*.  How was I going to rescue Reishun, though, when all I had were my hands?

In that instant, my hands itched, and I found myself reaching across my back for a sword that wasn't there.  It didn't seem odd at the time---nothing about those moments would seem odd until much later---but I cursed when I realised the blade I wanted wasn't there.

As if in answer to my unspoken thoughts, I felt the hilt of a straight-bladed sword fall into my hand.  Looking over my shoulder, I saw one of the village elders step back, huddling with the rest of the townsfolk.  My eyes sought for and found Kanan, hands held before her, wide emerald eyes watching me with fear…and with hope.

I didn't know what I was doing in the least, though it felt like I did.  My body reacted without direction, without thought, and I was moving forward before I even realised I was in motion.

My movement, it seemed, drew forth the rest of the beasts that had been hiding unnoticed in the shadows.  A veritable pack of multi-headed monsters, probably seven or eight all told, and my small pupil Reishun in the middle. 

I always prided myself on being a boy slow to anger, a boy with infinite patience, a boy of reason---pride that continued when I carried those traits with me into "manhood."  But Reishun's cries of terror, the tears that slid down her streaked face…something within me began to burn, and it was angry---angry and very powerful.

Shrieks of pain, howls of rage, the murmur of the villagers…I tuned them out as I moved, dancing through the creatures with steel in my hand in a pattern I couldn't possibly know and yet did.  I saw nothing but the haze of red, blood and fur and limbs flying as I danced, the heat and stickiness clinging to my skin, soaking my clothes.  I never wondered why no one else helped me; I knew that if I was a coward, than there wasn't a word yet conceived by language to categorise what *they* were.

I was almost to Reishun, whose brown eyes were wider than usual, all dark pupil and surrounding stark white.  Her skin was white with fear, clothing torn and stained with mud, possibly with blood as well.  Spinning on my heal, I ducked under one of the flailing heads of the beast standing guard and scooped her up in my free arm, preparing to race for the crowd in order to get her to safety before returning to dispatch the last three creatures.

I could feel it following me, hot breath on the back of my neck, sulphur-smell rolling over me like fog.  Poor Reishun; I practically threw her to the nearest person before turning back around, expecting to get a face full of teeth.

I wasn't frightened, though it occurred to me that I should have been.  The most daring things I had ever done in my life had been the footraces with classmates as a boy…and loving Kanan.  And yet there I was, risking my life without being able to consider why, without being able to comprehend why I was *still* alive after what I had already done.  There's no other word for what that was, and I can freely admit to it.

Stupidity.

And my stupidity nearly got me and the villagers killed, in that moment.  Turning my back to the creatures was one of the worst moves I could have made, because I was taking their prey from them and they wanted her back.  I had left myself exposed, and if they couldn't have Reishun, I would be the next best thing.  After disposing of me, the villagers---and Kanan---would be easy pickings.

My arm hurt, shook with exhaustion, and the teeth were coming at me so fast I knew I couldn't bring the blade up in time.  I closed my eyes and prepared for my fate; later, I was told I was smiling.  If I think about it, I think it was perhaps because I thought that, for once, I might finally have some answers in death to who and what I was.

In case you were wondering, I have since decided that no answer is worth that price.

But I didn't die, despite the fact that I was ready to in that moment.  The teeth met metal with a harsh *shatter-clack* and a howl of pain, followed by the meaty down of a body hitting the ground.  I opened my eyes and saw nothing but the dead canine's body on the ground, throat torn open and blackish-blood spilling onto the dirt; however, I could feel the warmth of another person at my back, the line of their shoulder blades nearly matching up with my own.

A faint trace of alcohol and mint, of sweat and smoke…I didn't know who the person was, but I welcomed their interference.  "Thank you."

I could feel the muscles at my back tense for a moment as the remaining two dogs began to circle us.  But then he---I didn't know how, but I was certain my saviour was male---relaxed with a small chuckle, and I smiled despite the seriousness of the situation.  "What kind of a marshal goes out into the field without a shield mate at his back, scholar?"

I laughed as well.  "This one, apparently.  I'm not a very good marshal, you know.  This is only my first time."

A snort, and the scent became heavier; it overrode the pervading sulphur, and soothed my mind like nothing I could remember---not even Kanan's gentle voice and touch.  "Could've fooled me.  Anyway, let's get this over with.  I didn't come all the way here to play saviour for some guy, no matter how pretty he is."

Pretty…  I don't know why he used that word, why it bothered me, why it made me blush.  Kanan was always calling me pretty---or even outright beautiful---but from this man…

"As you said."

Kanan said we moved like unleashed lightning, moving in perfect harmony, actions synchronised.  I laughed at the time, embarrassed, uncertain…  After all, how could a stranger and I do such a thing---especially given that I was no fighter, and that man obviously was?

I realise now, though, that she was right.  We moved together without question.  We mirrored each other without speaking.  We read each other like lifelong friends.

And until I looked him in the face---after the dust had cleared and the blood had settled on the ground, my own blood pounding in my ears, face hot, breath rasping---I didn't realise that we already were one.

I've never told him, you know.  Through all of it…we've talked a lot.  But I never told him that I knew, when I looked into his wine-red eyes, that he was my other half.  Kanan held my heart, I don't ever doubt that---I never doubt I loved her or that she loved me---but Sha Gojyo…

Gojyo was my soul.

*****

[For The Past…]

I don't know why I did it, and by this point I don't really care.  I mean, if you live your life on fuckin' "What ifs?" all the time, you'd never get anywhere.

It just *happened*, ya know?  I was comin' back home off a good streak of luck at the tavern and reaping the rewards of Tongpu's pocketbook, looking forward to the fact that Yun Li was supposed to be over in a few hours after she closed up shop.  Sure, the rest of the girls had pissed me off, what with talkin' about my hair and stuff, but sex is sex---especially on a rain-filled night.  My belly was full of good food and better booze, I had a pack of smokes in my pocket, and the rain soaking through my clothes and hair felt blessedly good on that fuckin' hot night.

I was almost home, tiny little cottage that it was, when I saw him.  He was just layin' there in the mud, like some bump in the road.  I thought he was dead for a moment until I saw him shiver.  Looking around, guessing from the number of lights that were on, the number of shadows huddled in the corners of the windows, my neighbours knew he was out here---and they didn't care.

Ch'.  Damn but the town was full of petty bastards.

I kicked him.  Hell, it was callous, but I wasn't really sure that he wasn't already dying.  Articulate as ever, I felt the need to say it aloud too.

"Hey.  You dead?"

The guy was still awake, which shocked the outta me; out in the rain for gods knew how long, covered in mud, covered in…blood…

I wondered what the hell had worked the guy over, at the time.  Guess I shoulda asked who *he* worked over instead.

Lying on his side, curled up in a foetal position, I couldn't get a good look at his face.  But I could hear the breath whispering from his stained lips in a desperate prayer:  "Kanan…*Kanan*…"

One hand was clutched over his abdomen, and the faint light spilling from those surrounding windows showed me that blood was slippin' out between his fingers.  His other hand, fingers curled up in the in the mud, was tipped with long fingernails.  They stretched up into the rain, blood pooling into his palm.

Looking at the nails made me pause, then brush aside the soaked hair.  I ignored the guy's whimpers, especially when I found what I thought I would:  long, tapered ears.

No wonder the bastards of the neighbourhood had left him out here.  Despite their diplomatic words otherwise, no one around here wanted to help a demon.

I grinned faintly, tossing my tail of hair over my shoulder.  No one, that was, except maybe another demon.

He looked up at me, eyes of shattered emerald, shuttered emotion and pleas for death…and I think he laughed.

It made me want to cry.  I'm not a guy that gives in to shit like that easily---I don't think I've cried since that time with mom…when aneki left…

Lookin' the guy over, I made a decision.  It took a few quick and careful moves, but I knocked him out with pressure point techniques, picked him in my arms, and carried him home.

I've never told him, though…stupid scholar…

Despite the taboo, he felt right, being there.

I can tell ya, though, that I didn't mean to care.

I've always been an aestheticist, though I know a lot of people think I seem too crude for such a thing.  I'm a sucker for beauty---I can admit that easily.

I can also admit, easily, that never before has a guy moved me like that.

And no one, be they man or woman, be they fair or not, ever will again.

He was pretty---hell, outright beautiful!---in a way I've never really thought about before.  Pretty is pretty, ya know.  I've never discriminated between guy or gal in that respect, though my inclinations prior to that had always been with women.  Like I pointed out before, his eyes were an amazing shade of cracked emerald, even though they were pinpricked with pupil and half-closed with the delusions of fever.  Sooty lashes occasionally crested down upon pale olive, blood-streaked skin.  An aquiline nose, defined cheekbones, angled jaw…thick, shoulder-length mink-brown hair…

I'd put him on my bed to get a better look at him, to take care of his wounds, but I'd gotten distracted just a little too easily by his face.  Damn.

I took myself to task and began to remove the tattered remains of his shirt.  His skin was unblemished by wounds except for the terrible stomach wound.  Looking at that closely, I realised it wasn't…clean or straight.  The flesh was ragged, like multiple punctures stacked one on the other…

Like a hand had been punched through his stomach.

The flesh around the opening was hot and swollen---a fucking infection, which I had no expertise in.  If I got him stable, then I'd call for the damn doctor.  Until then---well, stuff what was falling out back in and hope for the best.

And say a goddamn prayer.

I had to detach myself from the situation as I cleaned the wound.  It was nasty, and while I don't think I have a weak stomach, after looking at the beauty of his face---then such unexplained destruction wrought on his body---my mind didn't want to realise that the two were one and the same.

"Never had a guy in my bed before---even a pretty one."  My hands worked at the same time as my mouth.  "And I'm tellin' ya right now, this isn't a situation I care to repeat, no matter what you look like."

A hand of ice clamped in a vice-grip around my wrist, and I looked up into the man's face.  The eye not crusted shut with blood focused on me with fever intent, and I found myself…

Well, fuck, there's no other way to put it.  I was a goddamn deer in headlights, and I was just begging to get hit.

"Kanan---where is Kanan?!"

A throaty voice, clear of accent but harsh with grief.  A tingle played down my spine at the sound, and I tried to pull my arm back.  "Look, man, I don't know what happened to you, but you're the only one I found.  There was no one else."

My answer seemed to confuse him.  "But…she was right there…"

I grimaced as I watched emotions play over his face.  This guy was hurting more than just physically; whatever the hell had happened, it was clearly bad.  "Hey, why don't you settle back down?  Once I get you all healed up, we can figure out what happened."

"I don't have time for that!  The Yamigarasu…"

What the hell was he rambling off about that damn clan for?  I sighed, trying to do my best to placate him.  "Are way the hell away from here up in the mountains.  So just set your mind at ease and get some sleep, eh?  Healin' goes faster that way."

I thought he'd protest more, but the fever was catching up with him quick.  His hand slid off my wrist, and I found myself grabbing for it…as if afraid that losing his touch meant losing *him*.

I finally took notice of his hands then.  When I gamble, I watch people's hands a lot; I look for nervous twitches, finger flicks, playing with rings, shuffling; I look at their nails, how well they're taken care of, if there's grime under them; I look at the general state of the skin, if it's covered with dirt or oil, or meticulously clean.  You can learn a lot about a mark just by lookin' at their hands.

The same could be said for this guy.  His hands were…well, soft.  But there were rough edges to some of his fingers, the calluses of a writer or somethin'.  And there were tiny, thin cuts---paper cuts, probably---that were visible because they'd been filled in by blood and muck.

However, there were also calluses along the heel of his palm, and where the fingers joined.  These were a scholar's hands, yeah, but they were also the hands of a fighter.

He was a mystery, and I've always liked mysteries.  I wanted to solve him, to rearrange the shattered puzzle pieces that had been dumped in front of me into the beautiful picture I suspected they would form.

The hands twitched briefly in my own, the sharp nails biting into my skin.  I looked up at him, meeting his fever gaze---and I finally saw and recognised what was in front of me.

"Marshal-Scholar…"

I had to be wrong---*had* to!  The Marshal-Scholar I had fought with two weeks ago in Tooyama had been as human as…well, as human as any human I had ever met.  He was something more, too; I knew that from meeting his eyes, from seeing myself---blood-covered bastard child, fighter and lover---reflected in his eyes.

It had been a brief moment, one I'd suppressed and shuttered away with the doggedness of one who is afraid of such thoughts.  I'd spent my whole life wanting to be loved, and this man…this was a man obviously already in love and loved in return.  Despite the snapping connection I felt, I had no right to interfere.

So what the hell had happened?

"Taboo…"

The word slipped from his lips, making me hiss.  I hated that fuckin' word, even if it was accurate.  "So what?"  I was unable to keep my anger from coming through, and he winced.  I felt a little bad, but at the time…

"I was so afraid to be like you…"

His eyes were fluttering closed, and I hoped that he was finally going to pass out on me again.  I didn't want to talk, not after all the things my crazy mind was already stirring up.  "Hush, scholar.  You need sleep to heal."

"But…"  Breath fluttered over his lips, warm against my face as I bent closer to hear his words.  "But I am you."

I blinked.  "Huh?  What the hell's that supposed to mean, scholar?  Just hush already and go to sleep."

He smiled, and I guessed that he was nearly asleep.  "My bossy antitheses.  You're a harsh taskmaster, General…"

I didn't know what he was goin' off about---passed it all off as fever dreams at the time.  When he was asleep, I left to fetch the doctor, who set about taking care of what I couldn't.

"You'll want to hide the fact that he's a demon from the rest of the town."

I grunted.  The doc was an old friend, one of the few in the prefecture who knew the truth about me.  "Yeah, I know.  I've got a set of limiters…"  I grinned when he gave me a funny look.  "They were my brother's.  Once he's mostly healed, I'll put 'em on him.   I don't want his healing abilities cut off, ya know?"

"Do you have any idea who he is or how he ended up this way?"

I shook my head, letting the man out the main door.  "Not really.  But he seems to know me, so the least he can do in return for all this his hang out until my questions are answered."

"Be careful, Sha---sometimes answers bring more questions, and sometimes those questions bring trouble."

I ignored the old man, and settled down backwards into a chair beside the bed.  Let trouble come---I'd give her a run for her money before she took me out.

I still don't know the answers to everything, but I do know this:  We *are* one, whatever the hell that means.  I still don't know why he called me "general" that night, or why he's slipped a few times since then, but I know why he's still a field marshal in my eyes.  Despite how non-combatant he seems, he's the one who knows it all.  He's got all the answers, the know-how.  He's the one that can pull our asses out of a fire quicker than we can get into it.

And he's the one who never needs me to be anything other than what I already am.

*****

[And Present…]        

He never asked me questions.  I thought it foolish of him, to let a stranger into his home and never ask "Why?" "When are you leaving?" "What will you do for me in return?"  I kept waiting for the gauntlet to fall, as they say, but as days turned into weeks…  Well, I saw it as a gift, of sorts.  A reprieve from my past, a chance to build myself back up before falling from grace again.

He wasn't stupid---I learned that quickly.  It was an assumption I made and quickly regretted.  He knew every inch of his little house, despite how messy he kept it.  I tried to clean subtly at first, not daring to leave my convalescence in his bed until he'd left for a few hours of gaming.  He knew, though---knew every place my hand had touched, and even the places I'd thought about but hadn't yet touched.

I also learned that he had a temper to match the blood of his hair and eyes.  Those eyes…that hair…they were my penitence I decided.  I told him that, too, when I left that day that Sanzo came to take me to the Sanbutsushin.  My penitence for the crimes I had committed and needed still to atone for.

I thought my words brave, I thought them right.  And it's amazing how quickly with a few sharp-tongued words Gojyo could make me feel like a complete and utter idiot. 

He also, though, could build me up faster than anyone I knew or had known---faster, even, then the grandparents who had raised me or sweet, beloved Kanan.

Kanan…

She haunted my dreams, my wakings, and I hated myself for being too weak.  I couldn't save her, couldn't help her…  In the end, she had chosen death rather than living with me.

I admit, I took it personally.  Not only was it my fault she was dead, she had died because I wasn't…well, there were a great number of things I wasn't *enough* of, and I feared that loving her was one of them.

When I felt I was sufficiently recovered, I told Gojyo everything.  My preparations for leaving…well, I planned on not returning.  Like Gojyo told Sanzo, I planned on dying after I had cared for Kanan's body.  She had been my life, and with her own life shed from the mortal coil, I felt it only fair that I followed.

But as fate would have it, that wasn't how things worked out.  While I knew that Gojyo was unusually compassionate for one who put on the airs that he did, I didn't realise that he actually cared for *me.*  I hadn't even told him my name yet, and he was out defending me from the Sanzo-priest sent to bring me to judgment.

My mind became a mess in those few moments.  Rather than denying me, giving me up as I would have done to him in what seems like a lifetime ago, he protected me.  Like a stubborn general covering for the mistakes in humanity that his marshal has, Gojyo told Sanzo that he had the wrong man and to go away.

Of course, Sanzo and Gojyo get along like hot oil and cold water---all spits and hisses and volatile explosions.  I think, though, that it was the gunshot that did it for me.  I knew that Gojyo was an accomplished fighter, both with his chijiriki and in judo, but that gunshot and Sanzo's threat…

My heart was in my throat and panic covered every sense of reason that remained in my mind.  It wasn't until later, after I was wandering the wilderness towards Hyakugan Maoh's palace, that I began to wonder at my actions.  When Kanan had been taken from me, I had been calm; frighteningly calm, probably, but calm nonetheless.  I'd been worried, angry, but I hadn't panicked.  I'd thought things through fairly carefully before storming the Yamigarasu compound for answers, then going on to Hyakugan Maoh's castle.  Yet when Gojyo was threatened, my reactions took over in place of reason.

My reflections made me wonder if I truly hadn't loved Kanan enough.  I hadn't reacted instantly when she was taken from my side, but when the same was threatened upon Gojyo…I did.  I was frightened and angry, the same as I had been with Kanan.  And I was desperate, begging and pleading for Sanzo to release Gojyo, that he had nothing at all to do with me.

But as I learned, after finding the ruins of the palace, after returning with Sanzo to the Setting Sun Temple, Gojyo had *everything* to do with me.  He had spent a month pouring everything that he was into me, wanting me to live…*needing* me to live.

He needed me.  As petty as it sounds, as selfish as it sounds, that more than anything gave me the courage I needed to take what the Sanbutsushin offered:  the death of Cho Gonou and all that he was, and the birth of Cho Hakkai and the discovery of what he could become.

I stayed at the temple for nearly three weeks, continuing my convalescence among the monks, with Sanzo and dear Goku.  I was trying to become the man I wanted…the man who could live in this world as a human-turned-demon, who had slaughtered over a thousand demons in two nights, most of which had been innocent of any crime to me.  I was trying to become a man who could live without the light of Kanan's gentle soul constantly by his side, a man who could handle the strangeness of what he was without despairing.

I was trying to become a better man---a man worthy of the gift Gojyo had given to me---and it was damnedly hard.

I probably would have stayed at the temple for longer if Sanzo hadn't brought news from Renshu.  As always, he spoke in clipped tones without emotion, but I read a depth in his words that, intended or not, made me realise that self-isolation would, in no way, help me to become someone better than who I had been.

Gojyo had cut his hair.  It may seem like a trifle thing, but to me it was a big deal.  My words…my words about his hair and eyes on our parting…  And now that he thought me dead, thanks to Sanzo's callous words in a moment of retaliation for mostly-imagined slights…

I had no choice.  Whether I felt I was ready or not, Cho Hakkai needed to walk amongst the living and return to the man who had helped to give birth to a better person.

I returned to Renshu with no expectations, only hopes.  And seeing Gojyo…well, those hopes took flight and began to grow.

We don't really talk of such things between us.  It's not that it feels improper, its just that it feels…well, silly.  As if speaking of what we have would cheapen it.  I know his heart as he knows mine---we are one, after all.

*****

[Are One…]

We stared out with Hakkai still using my bed and me sleeping on a cot behind the screen.

Yeah, "start" is the operative word, meaning it didn't last very long.

He was still healing, though he protested that he was just fine and didn't want or warrant special treatment, thank you very much, general, sir.  I listened to his argument with a smile, cigarette dangling from the corner of my mouth, smoke haloing my head---then I forced his ass down into my bed and told him to shut the hell up.

Smiling---really smiling---he did.

We were on separate ends of the main room, but with the way the two of us start going off…  We talked too much, you see; we'd talk for hours after turning out the light.  After a week of that, I moved the cot out into the main room.  It became a little easier to talk when I could see his pretty face, lovely eyes reflected at me in the moonlight.

There were a lot of things we talked about---family and friends, likes and dislikes, dreams and despairs.  We spoke a little of the past, but mostly…mostly we spoke of what we wanted for the future.

Eventually, though…  Eventually I pulled the cot across the room and put it by the bed.  Made sense since we were tired of waking up hoarse from shouting at each other across the damn room. 

It was damned uncomfortable to wake up between the bed and the cot, though.  After a couple of nights wakin' up with muscle spasms, neck kinks, and just plain old *pain*, I told Hakkai to move his ass over since it was getting ridiculous.

Yep.  Two men, one bed---a recipe for either utter disaster or the best sex of your life.

…Or maybe something in between, even for a libertine like myself.

It was a little cramped, pushed together like that.  But you know what?  Neither of us really cared.  We even tried to do the whole "hands to yourself" routine, but that didn't work out so well either.

The only option left was for one of us to give in to the inevitable.

I haven't told the scholar this---not yet, at least---but I think I knew, the moment I picked up him, bleeding and dying in my arms, coldness cradled to my chest…I fuckin' *knew*.  I'd spent my whole life trying to be worthy of some sort of love, but when he came…when I found him…I just *knew.*

It was late, probably nearly two or three hours after midnight, and Hakkai's breathing was beginning to even out into a rhythm near sleep.  He was closest to the window, and I was watching the way the faint sliver of moonlight was spilling over his face.

It wasn't fair, I thought.  He came into my life, unexpected, unannounced, unasked for…  The stupid scholar would talk of love, with such a stupid look on his face, and my heart would tighten, my mouth would go dry, and I'd wonder.

And I'd want.

It just wasn't fuckin' fair.  He was a damn tragic beauty, and even though he'd been returned to me when I'd thought him gone, I was afraid to believe in more that what we already had between us.  After two months of having him back, having him *here* with me, living with me like no one had in so long…I wanted those things he talked about.  And even though I told myself I was content with what I had, that we were merely soul-brothers, that didn't encompass it.  If we were merely soul-brothers, it was in an earth-shaking, heaven-shattering way that made even Kannon-sama quake in fear.  When we were together, when one of us was threatened, we were a force you didn't mess with; like I'd told the monk after his shitty trick:  If you threaten to take him from me again, I'll kill you.

Despite all that, I still wasn't sure that I understood those things he talked about, this "love" that I wanted yet was afraid to have.  But I figured it must be amazing if it could light his face up like that, momentarily lifting the veil of death and fake cheer that was so a part of him now.

"You'll pinch a nerve in your neck…laying there like that."

His voice startled me, and I probably would have fallen off the bed if he hadn't reached out and grabbed my shirtfront.  "Bastard," I groused, scooting closer.  The floor was cold and the bed was warm; with the early coming of fall, I didn't appreciate a sudden change in temperature after warming myself beside him.  "I thought you were asleep."

He smiled, left eye slitting in the darkness.  Shattered emerald, cracked bottle glass, deep-carven jade…  Not truly the antithesis to my own, but so close, so welcome…

Gods but I was turnin' into a nutcase.

"Gojyo."

His hands were on my chest, warm through the material.  I reflected on how different his touch was now, compared tot hat first time.  "Sorry.  My mind was too wound up ta sleep."

The eye closed but he continued to smile.  "And what were you thinking about?"

It was one of those times when I wondered if I should be honest, or if I should just keep my mouth shut.  But Hakkai has a way of drawing the truth from me anyway, so I decided to give in to the inevitable---and as it turned out, there were a lot of things that happened that night that were "inevitable."

"You.  Us."

His eyes remained closed, breathing still even.  But his hands moved up to the collar of my shirt, his head curling closer to my chest.  "Such thoughts could drive a man crazy."

I snorted.  "You don't have to tell me twice."

Silence spilled between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable in the least.  My own eyes began to fall closed as I allowed myself to be lulled by his warmth, and by the steady beat of his heart next to my own.

I was almost asleep when I felt his hands on my face.  My eyes opened, and I watched as his fingers entered my line of sight, sliding over my cheek to tangle in my hair.  I held my breath, waiting, wondering…wanting.

"You are so complicated, dear general…"

It was impossible not to laugh at the amount of depth he put into those words:  confusion, amusement, consideration, affection…  "Me?  I'm the simplest guy around, Marshal."

He laughed as well.  "No, you are far from simple.  But…"  His eyes opened, meeting mine.  "But I like it that way."

You know, there are some things that are better off not talked about.  I guess…it would seem cheap to here him say somethin' like "I love you" after what we'd already been through.  Words weren't what I needed---and I don't think they were what he needed either.

And perhaps the kiss that followed was spectacular---hell, if I hadn't been dead-tired, I probably would've tried pushin' for more it was that amazing---but that wasn't what made me cry.

It was his trust---his complete and utter trust in me.  He didn't care that I was a bastard child, half human and half demon.  He didn't care that I passed my time by gambling and didn't have a steady job.  Love…we use the words too much, to the point where it becomes meaningless and we need action to speak for us instead.  So love…

To be held in the arms of someone you had dared to care for, someone that had been lost then found…someone that knew all of who you were and didn't think any less of you…  Well, if that was love, then fine:  I was fuckin' in love with Cho Hakkai.

And if anyone tries to take this from me, this precious gift granted a taboo child, I'll kill 'em.

*****

[In Us.]

In the light of faint morning, when the sun is beginning to spill through the curtains of the inn room, Gojyo stirs.  It's unusual that he wakes before his roommate, but he is glad for the opportunity to sit and contemplate in peace.

He loves…and is loved in return.  And though he and his dark-haired lover do not speak of such things aloud, words become mere vagaries when compared to the revelations of cracked emerald eyes.

Those eyes are revealed as Gojyo sits on the edge of the bed, dark fingers trailing over pale skin.  He is greeted by a smile that rivals the intensity of the sun and smiles in return; true smiles are a rarity from this man, and each is to be treasured.

There is no hungry monkey to disturb them, no bitter monk to pour diatribes upon their ears.  They are alone but not lonely; not when they have their mirror of their soul right beside them.

They kiss, a brief and gentle touch that would seem odd to any who knows Gojyo as a self-serving womaniser.  And though there is passion when their hands meet, when their lips touch, it is contained; this isn't about such a simple thing as sex, after all.

And while the rest of the world still sleeps in quiet slumber, the redhead climbs into the bed and under the covers, curling his body around Hakkai, limbs twining until two bodies merge into one.

As their hearts and souls already are.

Fly free, reminisce
In utter safety, the haven of your heart
Will shelter you.
The past and the present
Are one in us;
When we reach out and touch,
We find and clasp that which is most dear.
Marshal and General,
Scholar and Gambler;
Bound through blood
Bound by soul---
A bond that shakes the heavens,
For they fear no taboo.