S-CRY-ed Fan Fiction ❯ Lost Ground, Lost Souls ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: No, I don’t own s.CRY.ed, dammit… If I did, I would have found better things for the boys to do together than fight! ^_^

A/N: Many thanks to Brightdreamer and her mad proofreading skillz...and for putting up with my constant questions of “Hey... think thiswill work?” as I hammer out various plot points. You rock, girlfriend!

This story will contain yaoi, which for the uninitiated and uninformed means two boys doing the hoop-de-doop. Don’t like it? Bugger off and go read something else. Don’t like it and read it anyway…go ahead and flame me--I don’t give a damn. This story will also contain mature themes, disturbing imagery, and possibly character death—maybe even multiple character deaths—I just don't know yet. Consider yourselves warned.

Lost Ground, Lost Souls

Chapter 4

Five days passed before Kazuma was well enough to travel—even Ryuhou hadn't expected it to take that long, but the infection running riot through his rival's body had an even tighter grip on the other man than he had feared. For much of that time, Kazuma had remained unconscious, drenched in fever-sweat, sometimes raving to or about the mysterious “Shima,” sometimes muttering the names of other people that Ryuhou assumed he had known in the past. Once or twice he heard his own name pass through the parched, cracked lips, but when he went over to check on the other man, he found him still unconscious, still trapped in dreams of the past.

Finally, the night before last, Kazuma's fever had broken, and his patient/prisoner had returned to a sort of sluggish semi-consciousness. Yesterday, he had been able to sit up, but had remained sullenly uncommunicative—not that Ryuhou had expected him to behave any differently. Although Kazuma was still weak, he now seemed to be out of danger, and Ryuhou decided that they would set off for the ruined village the next morning. Even now, it would, perhaps, be better to wait another day or two, but the former HOLY officer was quickly reaching the end of his limited supplies. While they still had an almost endless hoard of the tasteless field ration bars, the dehydrated broth that he had brought to give himself a break from the rations—and which was the only thing that Kazuma could keep down—was close to running out.

“Why'd you keep me alive?”

The sudden question drew Ryuhou's gaze from the duffel bag he was packing, and he turned to glance over at the younger man, one eyebrow arching inquiringly, “Would you have preferred that I let you die?”

Kazuma shrugged as if the question was immaterial, “Isn't that what you always wanted?”

Ryuhou blinked, gaping dumbfoundedly at his prisoner, “I...” Quickly averting his gaze, he turned back to his task, “Only if you die by my hand—anything else just wouldn't be as...satisfying.”

The younger Alter apparently found Ryuhou's answer acceptable as a faint grin slanted across his face. His eye slid closed as he leaned back against the cavern wall, “Fair enough... You...might have to hurry though...if you want the chance...”

“What do you mean?” Ryuhou's head snapped back up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he peered over at his captive rival. Kazuma, however, only rolled his shoulders in another small shrug, apparently not caring to explain further.

Frowning slightly, Ryuhou finished loading the rest of his gear into the duffel bag, zipping it shut afterwards. Standing up, he slung the bag over his shoulder before leaning down a little to extend a hand to the other man, “Come on...it's time to go.”

Ignoring the outstretched hand, Kazuma levered himself onto his feet under his own power, bracing himself against the cavern wall with one hand as he swayed unsteadily for a moment. “Where the fuck are we going, anyway?”

Ryuhou didn't answer for a long moment, attempting to gauge his rival's reaction to their destination. Although Kazuma seemed calm—even cooperative—at the moment, he doubted that the other man would remain so once he learned where Ryuhou planned to take him. As he swept one arm to the side, a bit more of the cavern's floor disappeared as the smaller, restrained form of Zetsuei formed in front of him, it's violet ribbons stabbing forward, forcing Kazuma to take a step backwards. “You destroyed a village, Kazuma. You're responsible for hurting a great many people—I won't let you hurt anyone else.”

Kazuma's eye narrowed dangerously, and for a moment, Ryuhou was certain that he would have to forcibly restrain his prisoner. To his surprise, however, Kazuma simply gave another shrug and eased himself around Zetsuei, still bracing himself against the wall as he stumbled towards the cave's mouth. “Fine...whatever...Let's go.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Due to Kazuma's weakened state, they had to stop more often to allow the younger man to rest before they could continue on—not that Kazuma made any complaints, of course. The stubborn Alter would have driven himself to the point of collapse if Ryuhou hadn't called the occasional halt to their journey, forcing the other man to sit, to rest and regain a little of his rapidly dwindling strength.

After their brief exchange in the cavern, Kazuma had remained mostly silent, responding to any of Ryuhou's statements or queries with a grunt, or a roll of his shoulders. As they made their slow progress across the desert floor, Kazuma a few paces ahead where the former HOLY officer could keep an eye on his prisoner, Ryuhou had plenty of time to reflect on the other man's uncharacteristic behavior.

Kazuma had always been...loud. An obnoxious punk with a hair-trigger temper, whose bite was much worse than his bark. However, there had always been an underlying sense of purpose to the other man's actions—even though Ryuhou hadn't seen that, himself, until much later. Despite his own earlier beliefs, Kazuma didn't engage in destruction for its own sake...or, at least, he hadn't. So...what could have possibly brought this change about? As they continued their trek across the desert landscape, Ryuhou's eyes narrowed as he turned a speculative gaze onto the other man's back.

Oblivious to Ryuhou's scrutiny, Kazuma shuffled along ahead of the other man. Shoulders slumped, head bowed, his one working eye fixed dully on the sand beneath their feet, he carried himself nothing like the man Ryuhou had known. Gone was the muscular body with the fluid, almost cat-like grace, and in its place was this brittle, too-thin shell that was only barely capable of remaining upright as it shambled across the wasteland towards their destination. Gone, too, was the once defiant spirit—the man Ryuhou had known would never have allowed himself to be herded along like a stray lamb to the fold. In this...stranger, however, there was no defiance, no resistance; only...resignation. What could have happened to change him so? The only one who could tell him that was Kazuma, himself...but as usual, the other man offered him no answers.

Within an hour or two after leaving the cavern, Ryuhou noticed that Kazuma's already lowered stamina was beginning to flag. Even after the short time they'd been walking, the other Alter was already weaving drunkenly, barely able to remain on his feet. Frowning slightly, Ryuhou watched Kazuma's unsteady progress for a few moments, noting the stiff, limping movements, the almost absent rubbing of his right shoulder, but he knew better than to offer any assistance to the other man. Instead, he called a momentary halt to their journey, leading his prisoner over to a small outcropping of rock that provided at least some shelter from the merciless sun.

* * * * * * * * * *


Lowering himself carefully to the ground, Kazuma leaned back against one of the boulders that dotted the desert floor. It was barely two hours past sunrise, and the heat was already sweltering. His skin felt greasy with dried sweat and grime—how long had it been since he'd had a real bath, anyway? A faint frown creased his brow as he realized that he couldn't remember.

“Here.”

Blinking, he looked up to find a hand holding a bottle of water before him. Slowly, his gaze traveled up along the long line of the arm attached to the hand to discover Ryuhou standing over him. Ryuhou...? Oh, yeah...he was a prisoner again, and the other man was taking him...somewhere or other... Something about a village that had been destroyed.

Grunting in acknowledgment, he accepted the bottle, tipping it up to his lips and taking a deep draught as Ryuhou retreated to another boulder a short distance away. As the cool liquid eased his parched throat, he felt a little better—not much, but not quite so feverish, at least. Reaching down with one hand, he patted his pockets, searching for the crumpled half-pack of cigarettes he seemed to remember having in his possession. No luck. Apparently he'd smoked the last of them days ago—hell, maybe even months ago.

With a sigh, he raised the water bottle

the cigarette

to his lips again, taking another long sip

deep drag, the acrid taste of smoke rich upon his tongue. Pulling the smoke deeply into his lungs, he held it a moment before exhaling a thick, curling plume...which became small, puffy smoke signals as warm lips pressed against the side of his neck...and a teasing hand groped him underneath the sheets pooled at his waist.

“Damn, 'Shima,” he laughed, slapping lightly at the other man's hand—which appeared not to discourage his lover in the slightest, “How many times has it been now? Three? Four? Haven't you had enough yet?”

“Three...” Kimishima replied, plucking the cigarette from between Kazuma's fingers with his free hand and placing it between his own lips, the tip flaring a bright cherry-red as he inhaled. A small grin formed on his lips as he added, “And I don't think I could ever get enough of you...no matter how many times we did it.”

Although increasingly distracted by the rush of warmth his lover's attentions sent rioting through him, Kazuma turned slightly to glance at the other man, his own lips quirking into a cynical half-grin. “That,” he said, reaching over to reclaim the cigarette, “has got to be the sappiest thing you've ever said to me.” Snorting a laugh, he took another drag, releasing the smoke back into the room with a low moan as Kimishima intensified his ministrations.

“Maybe...” the other man agreed, smirking a little as Kazuma shifted slightly, allowing the wandering hands better access, “But that doesn't make it any less true...”

“Yeah...?”

“Yeah.”

Again, the cigarette was removed from his fingers and triumphantly snubbed out in the ashtray resting on the nightstand. A firm, yet gentle hand coaxed him back fully onto the bed, and as he fell back against the pillows he was immediately rewarded with the familiar weight of his lover's body pressing down onto his own, blanketing him with warmth and desire...

Gasping, Kazuma started violently, the sudden movement causing some of the water to slop over the rim of the bottle and onto his lap. The memory—dream—vision...whatever it had been...had been so vivid, so real... Real enough that his pulse still raced, and his body still pulsed with warmth. Real enough that he almost expected to find Kimishima reclining against the rock next to him, grinning around the stub end of a cigarette clamped between his teeth...and real enough for his heart to break all over again at the realization that it wasn't real at all.

A small, choked sound escaped him as he scrambled back onto his feet, stumbling back onto the northward path.

“Kazuma?” Ryuhou called from behind him, the sound of the other man's voice followed shortly by the rustle of stiff fabric as he, too, stood up. “Where are you--?”

“I've rested enough...let's get moving.”

* * * * * * * * * *


For the rest of the day, they continued in much the same way; crossing the open desert as long as Kazuma could continue to place one foot in front of the other, stopping for a brief rest when the younger man began to tire. Of necessity, their progress was slow, and Ryuhou repeatedly cursed himself for Altering his jeep at the beginning of his last real battle with Kazuma all those years ago. If he still had the vehicle, they could have arrived at the village by noon—and reached the City by dusk. It...had been a foolish thing to do.

But...I never really expected to survive that battle... I never expected either of us to survive...

Ahead of him, Kazuma stumbled, falling onto his hands and knees. Ryuhou stopped behind him, waiting patiently for him to climb back onto his feet. The other man didn't move, however, bur remained where he had fallen, head down, dark, sweat-dampened hair plastered to his forehead, his arms visibly shaking as he tried to push himself back up...but couldn't. Unable to bear the sight of his long-time adversary humbled to such an extent, he crouched down beside the other, gently gripping Kazuma's arm as he helped the other man up.

Ryuhou expected Kazuma to pull away once he had regained his footing. Instead, the ailing Native simply looked at him, a vaguely puzzled expression on his face as if he didn't know who Ryuhou was, or why he had helped him...or even why they were out in the desert at all.

“We...should probably stop for the night,” Ryuhou said after a moment, “The sun will be setting soon.” When his companion only gazed blankly at him, Ryuhou guided Kazuma over to the side of the rock facing that lined the narrow valley they were currently passing through. Easing the other man to the ground, he draped his cloak over the thin shoulders before setting about making camp for them.

After the meager meal Ryuhou prepared for them, the former HOLY officer sat across from Kazuma, watching the other man. For the most part, his prisoner had been silent, staring dully into the small campfire that Ryuhou had built and was now feeding with the few bits of kindling that he'd managed to scrounge. Suddenly aware of eyes upon him, he glanced up, meeting his captive's one-eyed gaze.

“Ryuhou...?” Kazuma's expression was a study in bewilderment as he stared across the fire at the other man.

“Yes? What is it?”

There was a lengthy moment of silence, and just as Ryuhou glanced up again to see if his companion had fallen asleep or passed out again, the other man spoke.

“What are you doing here? Did the mainland attack again?”

Ryuhou blinked; was it really possible that Kazuma didn't remember why they were out here? Narrowing his eyes, he peered through the darkness at his captive, half-expecting to see the traces of that irritating grin the other man habitually wore...or had worn the last time he had seen him. There was nothing, however; Kazuma seemed quite sincere in his question.

“No...nothing like that,” Ryuhou began, hesitating a bit as he debated telling his companion the rest. “You destroyed a village...I'm...taking you back there, and then on to the City.”

Now it was Kazuma's turn to blink, and his former rival looked as surprised as if this was the first time he'd heard this. “I...did?” he asked, “You're sure?”

Ryuhou nodded, “As sure as I can be without having witnessed it myself—the Alter the surviving villagers described...could only be you, but that's why I'm taking you back there first—to verify that you are the one responsible.

“Oh...” Taking off his jacket, Kazuma bundled it up before stuffing it up to serve for a pillow as he curled up in front of the campfire, tugging Ryuhou's cloak up over him. Again, he lapsed into silence, and Ryuhou thought he must have gone to sleep again when Kazuma surprised him by speaking again. “And what happens after that?” Oddly, the other man didn't sound as if he really cared what Ryuhou's answer might be. His voice held no traces of anger, only that unnerving resignation he'd displayed of late...and, perhaps, a vague, indifferent curiosity.

“I'm...going to take you to a hospital there,” Ryuhou replied. “I won't let you hurt anyone else...and they might even be able to help you...”

Kazuma snorted, clearly finding the idea amusing. “No they won't,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “There's nothing anybody can do to stop...this... and I don't want to spend what little time I got left in a fucking cage...I'd rather you just kill me now.”

Frowning slightly, Ryuhou glanced over at the other man. “What are you talking about?”

Kazuma made another soft, snorting sound, but apparently had nothing else to say on the matter. Rolling over, he turned his back to the fire, and a few minutes later, the sound of soft snoring reached Ryuhou's ears, indicating that the other man had gone back to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next day was simply more of the same. More walking...more short rest breaks to allow Kazuma to regain a little of his failing strength...more silence from his captive. As they slowly made their way across the seemingly infinite wasteland, Ryuhou became increasingly alarmed at the other man's behavior. For the most part, Kazuma maintained the same indifferent silence that he had displayed ever since they had left the cavern. Occasionally, however, he would further mystify Ryuhou by his sudden lapses of memory, again questioning the older man as to why he was here, or where they were going. Once or twice, Kazuma didn't even appear to remember who Ryuhou was, and the almost childlike trust and acceptance of his company unnerved him most of all the other man's uncharacteristic behavior.

In all, the trip back to the ruined village took four days, instead of the three that it had taken Ryuhou to travel from the village to the cavern where he had finally tracked Kazuma. This was mostly due to the frequent stops they made to allow Kazuma a chance to rest and regain his strength...and the farther they traveled, the longer and more frequent those stops became. More and more, Ryuhou began to fear that the younger man might not make it to the village—much less to the City...and as much as he hated to admit it, the thought disturbed him. What could possibly be the cause of such a drastic physical and mental decline?

For the rest of the day, Ryuhou continued to turn the question over and over in his mind as they slowly crossed the desert. Kazuma, of course, offered no explanations, but doggedly persisted in moving under his own power as much as possible. Occasionally, he stumbled and would have fallen flat on his face had Ryuhou not reached out a hand to help steady him. Even Kazuma's former determination to never accept help from him had seemingly vanished, and he no longer pulled abruptly away from Ryuhou's steadying hand. Of course...he never offered even a word in the say of a thank you, either... That much, at least, hadn't changed.

Finally, four days after they had set out, the pair were at last drawing near to their destination. About a mile from the ruined village, Ryuhou called a brief halt. Sweeping his right arm out to one side, he summoned Zetsuei before turning back to face Kazuma, who stood in his habitual slouch, watching indifferently.

“I'm...going to have to restrain you now...”

Kazuma shrugged. “Why? I'm not gonna try to get away.” There was no hint of protest or challenge in the younger man's demeanor, just that same, distant curiosity.

“I know,” Ryuhou replied quickly, “It's...more for the villagers' benefit... They...might be frightened if I bring you in unbound... And they've suffered enough, Kazuma...”

Kazuma gazed dully down at the ground as he considered Ryuhou's words. After lengthy silence, he snapped his head up; his one working eye glowing like molten gold as he stabbed a glare at Ryuhou. “One condition,” he growled, “Once they identify me, you take me out right then. No fucking around, Ryuhou. No going to the City...no hospital...no goddamned cage. Just...take me out.”

Ryuhou's eyes widened, stunned by the other man's request. “Kazuma...” Gasping, he shook his head. “I...I couldn't... When you... You weren't...responsible--”

“Promise me, dammit!” Stumbling forward, Kazuma reached out, grabbing the front of Ryuhou's coat, his face only inches from his captors as he nearly fell against the former HOLY officer. “You promise me, or I swear I'll Alter and make you do it right now!”

Wide-eyed, Ryuhou stared at the other man, who glared back fiercely. He...knew that expression... At long last, the real Kazuma stood before him—weakened and ill though he might be, this was the man he knew—not that stranger from the cave. This was Kazuma...and his rival meant exactly what he said.

Closing his eyes, Ryuhou bowed his head, his voice barely above a whisper as he replied, “I...promise, Kazuma...” Even as he spoke the words, he felt a cold weight settle in his chest, his heart feeling as if it had been suddenly enshrouded in ice.

Not like this, you bastard...It's...not fair... I never wanted it to turn out...like this...

A rough, leather-sheathed hand caught Ryuhou's chin in a surprisingly gentle grip, forcing him to look up. Before him, Kazuma stood, a fain, almost gentle smile upon his lips and an expression of what looked like relief reflecting from the depths of his one working eye. “Thanks...” he said simply, “You'll...be doing me a favor, really...”

A sudden grin slanted across the younger man's face, and despite the ravages that his condition had wrought upon him, he once again resembled his former self as he reached up to pat Ryuhou playfully on the cheek before stepping back, that infuriating grin still firmly in place. “C'mon, Ryuhou...let's do this shit.”

* * * * * * * * * *

A short time later, Ryuhou led his captive—now firmly, but not too tightly bound—into the village. The ruined buildings were no longer smoldering by this time, which only made the area look even more desolate and bereft of life than before. As they slowly picked their way through the debris, Ryuhou kept a steadying hand on Kazuma's shoulder; bound as he currently was, the younger man would have no chance of catching himself should he stumble. Although none of the villagers were in sight, occasionally Ryuhou would catch a brief flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, there and gone again before he could even turn his head. Apparently, they had posted sentries—some of the children, most likely—not too surprising, since in this weakened state, they would be vulnerable to any band of rogues who happened by. Not that there was much left to tempt thieves, at the moment.

Guiding his captive to the center of the village, they eventually reached a large structure that looked as if it had once been the town's central warehouse. Now, it seemed to serve as the main living quarters for the handful of inhabitants who were left. As he had surmised, the three adult survivors he had met on his previous visit stood waiting for him outside, apparently alerted by one or the other of the children peeking out at Kazuma and himself from behind the two women's skirts.

“Who's your friend, HOLY man?” the elderly Inner inquired, nodding his grizzled head in Kazuma's direction.

“From your description, I believe this man to be the Native Alter who destroyed your village,” Ryuhou replied quietly, each word feeling like ground glass upon his tongue, leaving him almost surprised when the coppery taste of blood didn't fill his mouth. Why...? Why is this so difficult? “Can you verify this?”

The Inner moved slowly towards Kazuma, presumably to get a better look at the captive. To Ryuhou's surprise, the man's wizened features held no anger, no thirst for revenge, only...doubt.

From behind the man, the more outspoken of the two women snorted derisively. “No, that ain't him—your mission's not over yet, HOLY...”

The old man, however, wasn't so hasty. Hobbling over to the captive Native, he peered up at Kazuma, who gazed back impassively. After a long moment, the old man stepped back, sighing softly as he shook his head. “Fujiko's right...this isn't the one...”

By this time, the rest of the survivors had appeared, standing silently off to one side. Dumbfounded, Ryuhou's gaze swept over the small group, many of whom were now also shaking their heads in silent denial.

Stalking forward, the woman—Fujiko—likewise moved closer to Kazuma, her already sharp features twisting into a contemptuous sneer. “Not much to look at, is he?” she asked, “Looks like a strong wind'd knock him over... Nothing like the bastard who came through here.” Turning away from Kazuma, she again faced Ryuhou. “The crazy who came through here was taller...not so scrawny and twisted as this one,” she continued, jerking her head in Kazuma's direction. “Wasn't as scarred up as this one, either...and he had brown hair—not red.”

Glancing over at his captive, Ryuhou's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Kazuma looked neither surprised nor relieved that the villagers had just cleared him. What the hell was going on here? As the other man turned slightly, catching Ryuhou's gaze, Kazuma merely shrugged before looking away again, offering him no answers...infuriating as always.