Title: Silver Glass
By foggynite
Fandom: Mirage of Blaze
Pairing: Takaya/Naoe
Rating: PG-13?
Summary: Takaya does some soul searching.
Dedication: For Ella, my number one fic supporter and pep squad. This plot bunny was all her fault. You rock, babe.
Disclaimers: Song "Into the West" performed by Annie Lennox, off the LOTR: Return of the King soundtrack. I had it on repeat this entire fic experience, so I just had to include it. Mirage of Blaze, alas, is not mine, as there would have been way more nookie and far less plot.

Across the sea
A pale moon rises.
And all will turn to silver glass.
A light on the water
All souls pass.
Hope fades
Into the world of night.
Through shadows falling,
Out of memory and time.

"Into the West" Annie Lennox

He wonders what death feels like. If the spirits they exorcised actually feel peace where they were sent, or if they're still there, raging against fate and god and man. He'd like to know, but he's so afraid of the answer.

The hotel room has a wide balcony on it, and he sits on the railing, staring up at the clear night sky. The weather's been thawing lately, heralding spring, and he wanted to sleep with the doors open, but Naoe vetoed that, scoffing at the security risk.

He snuck out anyway, this last exorcism playing in an endless loop through his mind.

Because he's beginning to think they might just cease existing. Like, their translucent spirit forms are pushed out of the host and just... dissipate, up into the atmosphere. The forgotten wisp of a morning mist that the sun burns off.

And he admits that he's afraid maybe one day Kagetura will awaken. Cold, hard, brittle warrior that is ruthless in getting what he wants, and Takaya isn't ready to give up his body just yet. There's so much he has left to do. He feels so young, a mere child when compared with four hundred years of fighting and loving a man as much as hating him.

That's history, there. A shared past he could never compete with. He wonders what Naoe sees when he looks at this boyish body. Another shell? Just a vessel to host his lord?

And it's not fair that the older man stirred so many questions in him, made him wonder about things he had never thought about before, then went back to acting like nothing happened. But maybe something did. There's been a softening in Naoe's gaze, lately, in their personal conversations. A lingering touch, a private smile. Things that hadn't been there before Takaya almost died.

But maybe it is because Naoe almost lost Kagetura's host body that he's being so nice now. All this special treatment started occurring only after Kagetura possessed his body completely for a time, during the ordeal with the mirrors. Maybe four hundred years of love and hate are hard to forget, and now Naoe just wants to keep Kagetura where he can see him, control him. What better way than to garner Takaya's affection, just biding his time until Kagetura completely takes over?

Obliterating Takaya in the process.

A shiver runs through him, makes him grip the railing tighter, and he wonders what he's doing here for the twentieth time that week. The mirror debacle isn't that far past and the war seems to have lulled for the moment, both sides regrouping, but he and Naoe have still gone out on exorcisms when called. Not all have turned out to be related to the armies, but it's better than spending his summer vacation at his empty home.

And that blows his mind, that he and Yuzuru still have another year of school to get through. Part of him feels like this is beyond him, that he just wants to be a teenager and not have to deal with all this mystical bullshit and responsibility. But the other half of him has already seen the darker side of humanity-- just look at his own family-- and knows that he can't back away from this. His childhood was lost long before the Uyesugi legacy was placed in front of him, and he hasn't mourned for it in some time.

But there are so many uncertainties ahead that he takes comfort from his past woes. At least they're familiar. Not like this thing with Naoe, if it even exists, and the evil armies plotting to kill him, as well as his own ancient family. Kagetura's family. Not his. His is a violent father and a broken mother who can't even care for him. At least his family is up front with their shortcomings and failures. None of this false sympathy and manipulation and lies.

The patio door behind him slides open. He doesn't bother to turn his head, because he knows Naoe's presence now. Would know it in a dark room with a bag over his head. So he just sits still, breathing steadily as Naoe comes to lean on the railing next to him. He refuses to turn his head, because this is his private time dammit, but he catches every bit of movement from Naoe's tanned fingers in his periphery.

"Still a bit cold, hm?" The present monk's deep voice rumbles.

He shrugs, swinging his legs a little. "I like it."

"You're going to catch ill..."

He realizes Naoe is draped in the comforter from Takaya's own bed, the gap revealing a stretch of exposed neck he has the inexpressible urge to touch.

And this is the confusion he's trying to avoid, because it shouldn't feel so right to sit here leaning closer and closer to his companion's warmth. He never thought of himself as into guys before, never thought of Naoe like that until the damn kiss, and part of his reaction had been surprise. Shock and betrayal, and the thought that once again he let someone close to him and they just wanted to use him.

But while Naoe has made his tactical attentions to Takaya quite clear—Powerful general spirit energy that will not go to waste no matter what he hasn't remembered—the older man has been very circumspect with his physical desires. If he even has any. Not that Takaya would know how to react if Naoe suddenly did decide to toss him on the bed and ravage him, but he has the sinking feeling that he wouldn't object as violently as last time.

Risking a glance at the other man, he blushes when he finds himself being studied in return. Another tremor shakes his limbs and his teeth have started to chatter without his knowledge, but he still hesitates when Naoe offers up space beneath his blanket.

He might doubt Naoe's intentions and wonder what he wants from him, but there's a part of Takaya that's starving for human contact, no matter the context. So finally he shrugs, avoiding Naoe's sharp eyes, and the other man comes to stand behind him, enfolding him neatly in the edges of the blanket. It's covered in both their scents and warm and wonderful. He even gives in to the temptation to lean back and is rewarded with strong arms wrapping around his waist.

The shivers die away, and Naoe rests his chin on Takaya's shoulder, cheek burning through the cotton of his t-shirt and against his neck. A muscled abdomen is pressed against his back and Takaya's flushing until he feels stifled by the blanket's heat.

But above all, it feels right. Comfortable. Like, for all their history and non-history, for everything that Takaya can't remember and Kagetura threw in Naoe's face, they still need each other. If Takaya doubts everything else, surely this instinct can't be wrong. It's too primal. Too deeply ingrained.

He's heard about Kagetura, thinks that he maybe doesn't care too much for him but understands his circumstances, and he wonders how alike they really are. Chiaki and Haruie had told him of Kagetura's attitude towards Naoe; the muddled confusion of companion and friend and enemy, aware of the other man's burning obsession and so condescending toward it, but unwilling to let Naoe wander far from him in four centuries.

Was that this feeling? This need to be with the other man and have him near, just a remnant of Kagetura making his presence known? His own soul's obsession? He may not remember their past together, but Takaya is beginning to learn about the Naoe that he works with now. Small humanizing things, like how he takes his coffee and the little frown he gets when thinking, and larger, more important things, like the fact that he had his chance to trap both himself and Kagetura in that mirror, but he chose to save Takaya instead. Takaya, and only in part because of Kagetura's spirit.

But Takaya is not Kagetura, and that's an important distinction he needs to remember. No matter the past, he is who he is now. And for all that Naoe's affection and obsession scare him, he would never mock him for it or hold it over his head. Not on purpose.

And maybe... Maybe he can break the cycle. Seventeen years is a blink compared to four hundred, but he'd like to think that he might have a clearer perspective of the current world than a bitter, angry young man who died too soon and can't find peace, even with such obvious devotion offered to him.

But maybe Naoe hasn't made any more overtures toward him because he's not really interested in Takaya? Maybe a mere human lifespan isn't enough to keep the other man interested, not when Kagetura is still lurking on the edges?

He must be going crazy, because a year ago he wouldn't have been talking about his alter-ego-spirit-inhabitant-person as a rival for his (apparently) four hundred year-old (kinda) love interest's affection.

The thought makes him snort, and Naoe's arms tighten in response.

"Deep thoughts for such a late hour?" The other man murmurs in his ear, lips branding his skin. His mouth is dry and he can only shake his head.

"I'm tired of thinking. I've done nothing but think since all this started." The admission is easier than he thought it would be, and it's nice to have said it aloud. "I've tied my brains in knots, I think."

Naoe chuckles in his ear. "I doubt that, but I understand. It's a lot to take in, especially when you don't remember any of it."

Takaya's heart rate begins to speed up, and he licks his lips. Facing out at the night sky makes it easier to ask the question that's been plaguing him for weeks.

"Is that—Is that why you kissed me, then, to see if I really didn't remember?"

The muscles around him tense, and the silence drags out. Naoe is controlling his breathing, but the pressure is there.

"Not—all of it," and when it looks like Naoe might pull away, Takaya captures his arms in a tight embrace, trapping him. The sigh above his ear signals his victory, and Naoe relaxes against him again. Takaya has to struggle to get his next words out.

"How much of that was you... wanting Kagetura, and how much was it me?"

An even longer silence this time, and he's afraid his grip will bruise the other man. But he has to know, because he's not Kagetura. Not at all.

"I had a lot of reasons, but yes, I was motivated by my desire for Kagetura." While Takaya tries to contain his disappointment, Naoe continues. "Part of it was you, though. You're just so... guileless compared to him. I couldn't reconcile the two of you in my mind, and so I just did what I usually do with Kagetura; I saw how far I could push you..."

The differentiation soothes him a little, glad that the disparity between him and Kagetura is easily acknowledged, but the truth hurts a little because he can admit, the jealous part of him wants it to be only about him, no matter how painful the rest of the situation might be.

But he nods, and whispers, "Thank you. I appreciate the honesty."

Naoe presses his lips to the skin of Takaya's neck, soft exhalation stirring his hair. "I have to be honest with myself, first, and I'm afraid that, after a few centuries of existence, it is a habit that falls in disfavor. I'm not a very pleasant person, underneath it all."

The silence between them is more comfortable now, and Takaya remains sitting back against Naoe, a small sign of trust that means a lot in their world. A colder breeze rustles up under the blanket, makes them both shiver.

"We should go in," Naoe says quietly.

Takaya nods, and then quickly, before he loses his nerve, he twists his head, lips landing awkwardly on the corner of Naoe's mouth. The other man stiffens, and Takaya looks forward again.

"Pleasant or not, I—"He swallows with difficulty. "I think I like you the way you are."

Naoe's response is to hold him harder and bury his face in the crook of Takaya's neck. When he speaks, his voice is muffled. "You're still young, then..."

Takaya gives a bitter smile and snorts. "I'm old enough to die in this war; I'm old enough to know what I like."

Lifting his head, Naoe states clearly, "If you had all your memories, you wouldn't feel this way."

"If I had all my memories," Takaya shoots back, "I wouldn't be me."

No response, and Takaya nudges backwards with his shoulders, signaling he wants to get down. Naoe steps back as he swings around. The absence of the blanket is a chilling shock, but Naoe hasn't gone far and Takaya pulls him forward again by the edges of the comforter. Naoe opens his arms until they're framed by it, not quite touching, but facing each other and looking obstinate.

Screwing up his courage, Takaya lets his hands finally wander to the swath of exposed skin, circling Naoe's neck and drawing him even closer. The older man resists at first, back stiff and unyielding, but Takaya merely leans forward himself, and is met halfway. Naoe's blanketed arms encase them as they stand still, faces mere inches apart as their breaths mingle.

Slowly, as inexorable as gravity, they close the gap between them, not knowing who moved first. The kiss is searing in its intensity, bitter in its sweetness, and both are gasping when they break apart.

"I'm not him. I'm not Kagetura."

"I know."

He wishes he believed him completely.

Don't say
We have come now to the end.
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again.
And you'll be here in my arms
Just sleeping.
And all will turn to silver glass.
A light on the water
Grey ships pass
Into the west.

Finis