S-CRY-ed Fan Fiction ❯ Lost Ground, Lost Souls ❯ Chapter 5 ( Chapter 5 )

Disclaimer: I do not own s.CRY.ed, Kazuma, Kimishima, Ryuhou, or any of the other characters—I'm only borrowing them for awhile. The story alone is mine.

 

Lost Ground, Lost Souls

 

Chapter 5

 

 

Standing at the edge of the precipice, he gazed across the sterile landscape, his mind dropping down through the years, through the scattered fragments of memory, even as the rock face of the cliff he stood upon dropped down from the cloudless sky to the barren waste below.

 

Rough, greedy palms rasped against the skin of his back, strong fingers curling, clutching, as he sank down...down into the heat that gripped him like a vise, flooding him with heat, with desire and bliss so intense that he wanted to fall, weeping, onto the strong, hard body beneath his own... Amber eyes that seemed to burn as they gazed up into his own...Lips that met his own with a promise of forever...lips that whispered promises they never intended to keep...

 

So many scattered tatters, half-remembered images that vanished like smoke whenever he tried to grasp them. Images of love and lust, blood and pain, betrayal and loss all whirled like a maelstrom within his mind. Bitterness, dryer than the desert sand at his feet, filled him, fueling the rage that scorched him from within. He had lost... almost everything...or at least he thought he had. His memories—of loved ones, his former life, his identity...were almost completely lost to him now; the injuries he had suffered at the hands of his betrayer had left him with only fragments of who he once was. The only thing he had gained set him apart, made him a freak, a monster. It wasn't right—he shouldn't have to live like this...Not while the one who had done this to him lived without a care in the world.

 

A small, scuffling sound behind him caused him to spin around, a faint smile breaking across his face upon confronting the slender figure of a well-dressed, white-haired man, who approached, resting a gloved hand on his shoulder as he leaned in to claim a possessive kiss. “Are you all right, my pet?” Pale, almost colorless eyes gazed into his own with concern. “You've seemed rather...discontented lately... I hope you're not unhappy here with me?”

 

“No, of course not,” he replied quickly, moving closer to the other man, his arms winding around his companion's neck. “It's just...I can't stand the thought of you living out here—like this—while the one who hurt you...who hurt us both is...”

 

Chuckling softly, the other man wrapped him in a tight embrace, pressing an affectionate kiss to his cheek. “It's not so bad, is it?” he asked, a teasing smile curving his lips. Gesturing towards the tiny shack they had been living in for the past several weeks now, he continued, “While the accommodations might be less than grand...at least there are no nosy neighbors to annoy us, hm?”

 

Smiling brightly, the other man reached up to gently cup his cheek, “And...you're getting stronger every day, my dear—as you proved at that disgusting little village you destroyed for me a week or two ago...” Leaning in, the other pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “Try to be patient just a little longer, pet; it won't be much longer now...and soon, you'll be able to seek justice for both of us...”

 

The other man's smile became sly and teasing as a wicked hand moved down to grope between his legs, sending a shiver of pleasure rippling up along his spine. “And now... let's speak no more of unpleasant things...” Turning toward the hovel they shared, the white haired man extended a hand to him, “I think...devotion such as yours should be rewarded—don't you agree...Kimishima?”

 

Smiling, Kimishima moved forward, eagerly taking his lover's hand as the other man led him back inside. “Yes, Mujou-sama...if that is your wish...”

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

 

Sunset found the pair of former rivals a few miles to the north of the ruined village, camped out on the bank of a tiny oasis; the sparse fringe of scrub brush would provide at least some protection from the cold winds that swept the desert floor at night. Now that Kazuma had been cleared by the villagers, Ryuhou had no idea what to do with the other man. He was certainly no longer the former HOLY officer's prisoner, and if Kazuma chose to part company with him once more, Ryuhou would have had no right to stop him. For whatever reason, however, Kazuma had chosen to remain. Perhaps he had no more idea what to do with himself than Ryuhou did.

 

After building a small fire, Ryuhou busied himself with preparing the last of the dehydrated broth for their dinner. A few miles to the north there lay another village where he could probably restock his dwindling food supply. Hopefully, it would also contain something in the way of a bath house—God knows, he felt as if he could use one...and Kazuma was even more in need than he was... Glancing over at his companion, Ryuhou felt a faint scowl form over his features as a surge of illogical anger flared up within him. Damn it! He had been so sure that Kazuma had been guilty—every shred of evidence had pointed to it: the level of destruction, the other man's mental condition...his strange, uncharacteristic behavior, even the sketchy description the villagers had originally given him—all had seemed to point to his former rival as the culprit.

 

When the broth was ready, Ryuhou poured it out of the small pot over two bowls of rice that he'd prepared earlier, dividing it evenly. Standing up, he walked over to where Kazuma sat, once again seemingly withdrawn into his own thoughts. “You knew,” Ryuhou said quietly, offering one of the bowl to the other man. “you knew that the villagers would clear you...didn't you?”

As he glanced up at Ryuhou a vaguely sheepish expression formed over Kazuma's features as he accepted the bowl. “I...wasn't entirely sure...” he confessed, “I mean... I didn't think I did it...but...lately, my memory hasn't been so good...” Pausing a moment, he ladled a few spoonfuls of broth into his mouth. “I...could've done it and not remembered... I just...wasn't sure...”

 

Lowering himself to the ground, Ryuhou sat across from the other man, silent as well as he took a few bites from his own bowl. “Then... why?” he asked finally, looking back at his companion, “Why did you agree to go back if you weren't sure...if you didn't think...?”

 

A soft, rasping chuckle rose from the other man. “I dunno...Maybe 'cause you were so damn sure it was me, you had me convinced as well...” Shaking his head, he took a few more bites of his food. After a long moment, he sighed softly, setting the bowl aside only half-emptied. “I...figured it coulda gone a couple of ways,” he continued at last. “Either I really could've been guilty... or...the Inners would be so desperate to see anyone swing for what happened, that they'd say it was me, whether it was or not...” A wry grin slanted across the ravaged features as Kazuma reached up to rub at the back of his head. “Guess I never figured on them actually clearing me.”

 

Ryuhou gaped at the other man, his own spoon poised halfway between the bowl and his mouth for a moment before he slowly lowered it back into the bowl. “But why...? Why would you want that? And...why would you insist that I...?”

 

Snorting a laugh, Kazuma slid his half-empty bowl out of the way before stretching out on the ground, pillowing his head on one arm. “Better a quick, clean death than a slow, lingering one...” Glancing up at Ryuhou, the faintest trace of his old, infuriating grin clung to his lips as his eye slowly rolled shut, “You think so too...right?”

 

Again, that horrible feeling of cold dread settled in Ryuhou's chest as a suspicion too unpleasant to entertain tried to force itself to the forefront of his mind. Forcing it back, he shook his head stubbornly. “I...don't know what you're babbling on about...”

 

Again, Kazuma laughed, the younger man's voice sounding dry and brittle. “Look at me, Ryuhou... You know what's happening as well as I do.” Opening his eye again, he gazed steadily up at the other man, the light from the fire casting a flickering, red-gold reflection onto the one working amber eye. “You want me to say it? Fine... I'll say it. I'm dying, Ryuhou.”

 

Gasping softly, Ryuhou shook his head mutely. That...couldn't be right. Of course, Kazuma was very ill, but...he would recover—he always did, no matter how badly he'd been injured, and he always, always, bounced back, stronger than before. This time would be no different. Kazuma would recover. He had to. “Don't be ridiculous. You'll be fine.”

 

“Stop it, you jackass.”

 

The impatience in the other man's voice caused Ryuhou to look up, surprised. Across from him, Kazuma had partially risen, propping himself up on one elbow, the glow from the campfire still casting an almost demonic reflection onto his eye while leaving half of his face in shadow.

 

“You know it's true,” he continued, his expression implacable, although his voice contained an uncharacteristic gentleness, “You know what happened to Cougar as well as I do...and you know what's happening to me, as well, even if you don't want to admit it.”

 

At Kazuma's words, an image, not of Cougar, but of Commander Zigmar floated up to the surface of his consciousness. The first known Alter user, Martin Zigmar had appeared to be a man in his early forties, although by rights, he couldn't be more than just a few years older than Ryuhou. As a young HOLY officer, Ryuhou had never questioned the discrepancy, had never even given it a moment's though. But just before his and Kazuma's final battle with Mujou Kyouji, his commander had goaded him into a fight, pushing Ryuhou to extend his own power, to achieve that final, total melding with his Alter that would allow him not only to survive, but to triumph. During the fight, Commander Zigmar had begun to age rapidly, and afterwards, Ryuhou had knelt beside the fallen figure who no longer appeared as a man in his prime, but an aged, brittle relic, consumed by his own Alter.

 

Just like...Kazuma...

 

Glancing up, Ryuhou's eyes widened as he found Kazuma regarding him evenly, the other man's lips curved into a knowing smile. Nodding as if satisfied, he again lowered himself to the ground. “Don't know what you're so upset for,” he grumbled, once more allowing his eye to drift closed. “I'd of thought you'd be happy about it...”

 

Lowering his own gaze, Ryuhou shook his head even though his companion couldn't see the gesture. “You...know that's not true...” he murmured, “Not now..not anymore...”

 

“No?” Again, that irritating grin twitched at the corners of Kazuma's mouth as the other man once more pillowed his head on his arm. “Hn... maybe not...”

 

Several minutes passed, and when Kazuma didn't speak again, Ryuhou assumed that his companion had fallen asleep. Once again, however, the other man surprised him.

 

“Suppose this means you won't keep your end of our deal now, huh?”

 

To his surprise, Ryuhou felt the faint beginning of an answering smile tug at the corners of his lips. “Why should I, when you didn't keep up your end?”

 

Snorting a laugh, Kazuma shrugged. “Bastard...I think you just like watching me suffer...”

 

“That's not true!” Ryuhou retorted, the vehemence in his own voice surprising him as much—possibly even more—than it did his companion. Scowling slightly, he glanced off to the side, “I get no pleasure from your condition, Kazuma...and...I still think that the doctors in the City might be able to help you...”

 

“Yeah?” Kazuma arched an eyebrow as he glanced over at Ryuhou, who nodded encouragingly. “Yes, I do.”

 

The other man was silent for a long moment, and Ryuhou had almost begun to believe that he'd convinced the other man when Kazuma shrugged again before rolling onto his side, facing away from the former HOLY officer. “And what the fuck makes you think I want any help?”

 

Although Ryuhou waited some time for Kazuma to speak again, the other man said no more. After several minutes, the sound of uneven snoring rose from the other man, and the former HOLY officer was once more left alone with his thoughts.

 

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

Walking...he was...walking...

 

Behind him, ahead of him, was nothing but infinite miles of empty desert. Above him, only the unforgiving sun. On his back, a weight so heavy that he could barely keep from sinking to his knees. A weight that only got heavier with the passage of each monotonous year. How long had he been struggling under this burden now? He didn't know; all he knew was that if he didn't find a way back, and soon, the burden he bore would crush him.

 

And so he continued his endless trek, seeking that place that existed somewhere at the crossroads of Time and Fate, somewhere before the vanishing point. If he could run fast enough, run through time as well as space, he knew he could find it. Find that point where he could turn back the clock; where he could give the finger to the Fates, those fucking bitches, and re-channel the world into the path it should have taken...if only the universe were run by sane people.

 

Glancing up, a faint scowl formed on his face as he saw what looked like the mouth of a cave not too far in the distance. Over the years, he had crossed and recrossed this section of the wasteland on countless occasions, and he had never noticed a cave in this area before. He hadn't simply overlooked this one, either—it hadn't been there...until now. Perhaps...this was the place he had been looking for? The place where he could finally set his burden down..could finally set things back to rights... It was almost too much to hope for, indeed, he had long since ceased to hope—or so he had thought... Nevertheless, he quickened his footsteps, breaking into a shambling half-run as he crossed the arid landscape. He was so...weary, and could barely keep to his feet, but he wouldn't let himself fall. Not now, when he was so close.

 

Finally, he reached the mouth of the cave, stumbling through the opening into the blessedly cool interior, unscorched by the unforgiving sun. After laying down his precious burden, he reached out with trembling fingers to caress the still, pale face, the familiar features blurring and shimmering as his own eyes filled with tears. It...hadn't worked. This place held no magic, after all.

 

“Kimishima...” he whispered, “Please...wake up...”

 

The motionless figure on the ground remained motionless, however. Although he had lowered his burden to the ground, he again felt its weight crushing down on his back, pressing him down flat onto the cave's rough stone floor. Collapsing beside his lover's body, his fingers clawed at the stone surface as he gasped for breath. He'd...been a fool to hope... there was no such thing as magic...no way to turn back the clock...no redemption and no absolution. There was only loss and pain and grief...and the tremendous weight that continued to bear down relentlessly upon him, driving the breath from his body and forcing tears from eyes that he'd believed had run dry years ago.

 

“Kazuma, what are you laying around for? Get up!”

 

The voice was as warm and affectionate as he remembered. Still contained the same hint of laughter that never failed to make his heart feel light and to bring a smile to his own lips. Even now, he could feel the corners of his lips twitching upwards, but he firmly suppressed the urge, shaking his head instead.

 

“No... I got no reason to get up...not anymore...I'm...tired...”

 

Beside him, he heard a soft rustle of movement, and then strong, gentle arms encircled him, lifting him and cradling him against a warm, solid body.

 

“You're not acting like yourself...again...” The voice was gentle as always, yet relentless. “The Kazuma I know would never just give up like this.”

 

As a gentle caress soothed over his face, he finally opened his eyes to meet the warm brown ones that gazed down into his own. “But...if I get up...you'll make me leave again...” His hands crawled up over his lover's chest, weakly clutching at the lapels of the other man's jacket. “I don't want to leave you again... I...want to stay here...with you...”

 

Kimishima's arms tightened around him, holding him close, and the weary youth nestled his head in the curve of one broad shoulder, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Slowly, arms like lead weights lifted to twine themselves around his lover's shoulders. “Don't...send me away again, 'Shima... Let me stay...”

 

Soft lips brushed over his temple. “Hey...it's not easy for me either, you know...” Kimishima replied, “But...as much as I'd like to keep you here with me... You're not finished yet, Kazuma... There's more for you to do...out there.”

 

Scowling, Kazuma shook his head, “There's nothing...I've done everything you asked, 'Shima. There's nothing else...and...I'm so fucking tired...”

 

“I know...you're worn out...” his lover replied, his voice still gentle, but firm as if he were speaking to a willful, but much-loved child. “But it's just for a little longer...and...you know...it's not like I ever really left you...”

 

“I know...but it's not the same. I want to see you...touch you again...”

 

“You will, Kazuma... I promise...”

 

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

Ryuhou awoke to the sound of muffled weeping. Frowning slightly, he sat up, peering through the darkness towards the restless figure that lay on the other side of the now-dwindling campfire. Standing up, he moved to poke the dying embers back to life before adding more kindling. That done, he continued on to crouch next to the still-sleeping man.

 

In the faint glow of the firelight, he could see the soft shimmer of tears as they tracked their way down Kazuma's cheeks, and he again heard a whispered plea to the mysterious Shima pass from the other man's lips. Absently, he reached out to brush sweat-dampened hair out of Kazuma's eyes. It was...odd...how the other man's words had affected him earlier; how his rival's matter-of-fact announcement had...disturbed him. True, he and Kazuma had been rivals and enemies for a long time, but he had long since ceased to wish the other Alter user any real harm. In fact, he had almost gotten used to the other man, and annoying as Kazuma could be, there was still something...comforting in the simple knowledge that the other existed. Despite their differences, there was no one else who knew him better, and as long as Kazuma lived, he would never be alone.

 

But apparently, that was about to change.

 

No...I won't let that happen...I won't let you die...No matter what, I'll find some way to save you, Kazuma...whether you want me to or not...

 

A small movement drew Ryuhou's attention, causing him to look down at Kazuma—who was now looking up at him, apparently wide awake. The former HOLY officer opened his mouth to apologize for disturbing his companion, or explain that the other man had been having a nightmare...or even to ask if he needed anything. What came out, however, was nothing that he had intended to ask.

 

“Kazuma... Who is Kimishima?”

 

The mention of the name drew a sharp gasp from the other man, and for a long moment, Kazuma was silent until Ryuhou began to wonder if the other man had heard him...or if he had somehow misunderstood what his companion had said while in the grip of his dreams.

 

Finally, however, Kazuma responded by again rolling over onto his side, facing away from Ryuhou. “That's...none of your damn business...”

 

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

The next day, the pair reached the mid-sized market village where he hoped to resupply for the remainder of their journey—although, as of yet, Ryuhou had no idea as to where their final destination might be. The village was large enough to not only allow him to restock their supplies, but to support a small inn as well. As they hadn't yet decided on a destination, this would be a good place to break their journey for a few days. Given a few days of rest and regular meals, perhaps Kazuma's condition would improve, and they could then decide what to do.

 

Upon inquiring at the inn, Ryuhou was able to secure a room for them for a week. At present, they had the place almost entirely to themselves; as harvest was still several weeks away, only the locals were populating the market. Once they had been installed in their room, Ryuhou located the inn's bath house and indulged himself in a long, hot soak. After weeks spent out in the open desert, bathing only when he had been able to find a small stream or oasis, a real bath was an almost sinful luxury. After he had finished, he arranged with the innkeeper to have his few changes of clothing cleaned, and for dinner to be sent up to their room.

 

When he finally returned, Ryuhou found Kazuma sound asleep on one of the beds, loud snores rising from the sleeping figure. Smiling faintly, he approached the bed where his companion lay before leaning down and reaching out to brush tousled hair back from the sleeper's face. After gazing down at the other man for a few moments, he turned away, heading over to the other bed to stretch out for a few minutes while he waited for their dinner to be brought up.

 

A few hours later, after they had eaten, and after Kazuma had returned from taking his own bath, both men lay stretched out on the two beds. Despite the waning of the sun, the faint glow of the hall light that seeped in through the crack under the door cast enough light for each man to see the other. Although Kazuma still looked quite ill, Ryuhou couldn't help but think that his companion looked at least a little better after his bath and the hot meal they had just finished. Once again, the hope that after a few days of rest and regular meals, the younger man would begin to recover sprang up within him. And once Kazuma's body began to recover...perhaps that disturbing indifference to his own condition would begin to fade as well.

 

“So...what's the plan?” Kazuma asked suddenly, turning slightly to look over at the other man.

 

Glancing over at Kazuma, Ryuhou offered his companion a faint, almost sheepish smile that seemed vaguely disturbing when arranged over the other man's features. “I...don't really have one,” he admitted. “I thought we'd just rest here for a few days and restock our supplies...maybe by the time we're ready to leave, we'll have some idea where to go next...”

 

Nodding, Kazuma turned his gaze up to the ceiling, seemingly losing himself in his own thoughts. After a lengthy silence, a faint smile tugged at his lips. “This isn't a bad place... I...wouldn't mind staying here...for awhile...”

 

Ryuhou blinked, somewhat surprised by the statement. Kazuma had never seemed to prefer one place over another—what few ties he had, had always been with people, not places. Still...it was the first time since he had encountered the other man at the cavern that Kazuma had expressed a desire for...well...for anything, and Ryuhou hadn't the heart—or the desire—to refuse him.

 

“If you like,” he agreed, “There should be no problem keeping the room for another week or so, if we decide to stay that long.”

 

“I...don't think I want to leave...ever...” Kazuma murmured, smiling faintly up at the ceiling. “The people here seem pretty nice...and earlier, while you were out, I could hear kids...laughing and playing outside.” Turning his head, he glanced over at Ryuhou, his smile seeming fragile, and somehow ethereal, as if he were already at least halfway removed from this world already. “It...was a good sound, Ryuhou...” he continued, “If I could have my way...that'd be the last sound I ever hear...”

 

“Kazuma...” Ryuhou had no idea what to say to the other man, none at all. Kazuma didn't seem to expect—or even want—his sympathy; the other man seemed quite resigned, even content, with his own approaching death. So...what did he want from Ryuhou?

 

The unspoken question was answered a moment later when Kazuma cast an almost worried glance over at the former HOLY officer. “You'll...stay too?” he asked, his voice almost childlike in its uncertainty, “I...don't think I'll hold you up for very long...”

 

Ryuhou winced visibly at the younger man's words. Did Kazuma have any idea how much these repeated references to his impending death stung? Probably not...whatever other changes had so altered the younger man...Kazuma was still thicker than reinforced concrete at times.

 

“Yes...I'll stay...as long as you want me to...”

 

“Thanks...” Kazuma's smile was both warm and grateful as he met Ryuhou's gaze. “Well...guess I'll turn in now...” he said suddenly, sliding down a little to lie back against the pillows. “Kinda...tired now...” he mumbled, curling up onto his side. “Night...”

 

Ryuhou knew that he shouldn't say anything, that he should just let the other man sleep, but...he couldn't let it go. Kazuma...had always flirted with death...but before, he had usually done so in order to gain something, or protect someone. But now...the younger man seemed almost eager for that final, cold embrace...like a lover hurrying to a long-awaited tryst.

 

“Why...?” he whispered, “Why have you just given up? Why aren't you fighting it?”

 

Kazuma didn't reply at first, and after several minutes had passed, Ryuhou assumed that the other man didn't intend to respond at all. Finally, however, his companion sighed and propped himself up on one elbow, gazing through the near darkness to where Ryuhou reclined. “Why? There's nothing for me here... not anymore... not...for a long time, now...”

 

“Nothing here for you?” Ryuhou repeated, dumbfounded, “What about Kanami? Don't you care about her at all anymore?”

 

“Of course I do! But...Kanami has her own life now... I'd just get in the way of that... She doesn't really need me anymore...she never needed me at all, really...” Pausing a moment, he lowered his gaze, glaring at the floor, “Besides...do you really think I want her to see me like this?”

 

“I don't think that would matter to her.”

 

“Maybe not, but it matters to me.”

 

“Hn... well I see you haven't lost any of your pride, at least,” Ryuhou replied dryly, arching an eyebrow skeptically at the other man, “Although I would have thought someone so resigned to his fate would have given up on such...ahh...worldly considerations?”

 

Kazuma blinked, then glared at his companion, and finally, a faint, somewhat grudging grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “Aww... blow me, you prick.”

 

Ryuhou chuckled at that; this sounded a little more like the man he remembered. “I'm flattered...but...you're not really my type...”

 

Kazuma blinked, gaping at the other man in disbelief. “Did...you just make a joke?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow again as he peered across the space separating them, his eye widening slightly in mock-alarm. “Damn...that must mean the apocalypse is closer than I thought...”

 

Now it was Ryuhou's turn to blink for a moment before a faint, uncertain smile tugged at his lips. “Surely it's not that rare an occurrence?”

 

Kazuma chuckled, shaking his head a little. “I dunno...Don't think I've ever heard you make a joke before.”

 

“Perhaps if you had stopped trying to tear up half the Lost Ground for a few minutes, you might have.”

 

“Hey! I wasn't trying to tear up the Lost Ground! I was trying to get rid of HOLY!”

 

“Whatever...”

 

“Feh...you're still an obnoxious prick, Ryuhou...”

 

“And you're still an ignorant, loud-mouthed punk.”

 

Across the narrow gulf separating them, the two men glared at each other. After a long moment, however, both began to chuckle, then to laugh outright. Whatever else might happen, it was good to know that some things would never change.

 

As their laughter died away and they fell into an almost companionable silence, Ryuhou glanced over at Kazuma, a faint smile still clinging to his lips. There was still a great deal that he didn't understand about Kazuma and what had happened to him; about why he was acting the way he was, why he had simply...given up on everything. Of all the changes he had discovered in the other man, that was the most disturbing. As his gaze met his companion's, he felt the smile fade from his lips. “Kazuma...what...what happened to you?”

 

Shaking his head, Kazuma snorted a laugh, his glaze slipping away from Ryuhou's. “You already know what's happened...”

 

“That's not what I mean...Why have you just...given up? That's not like you.”

 

Hitching in a shaky breath, Kazuma winced. Sitting up, he leaned back against the headboard, drawing his legs up and hugging them to his chest. Resting his chin atop his knees, he gazed dully towards the foot of his bed, releasing a heavy sigh. “You sound like Kimishima...and neither one of you knows what the fuck you're talking about...”

 

Although the mention of Kimishima's name piqued Ryuhou's interest, he didn't press his companion for any more information, but simply arched an eyebrow as he gazed silently at the other man. After a few moments, Kazuma glanced over at him, his gaze locking upon the former HOLY officer's for several seconds before he again looked away.

 

“Shima...was my partner,” he said at last, “And my best friend...” Pausing a moment, he closed his eye, drawing in another shuddering breath, “I...guess you'd say we were lovers, too... He's dead now... Those bastards in HOLD killed him, right before you and I brought on the second upheaval during our little...catfight... He never hurt anyone...but they killed him...because he was too close to me...”

 

As the other man spoke, Ryuhou listened, sympathy swelling within him. He knew what it was like to lose someone close to him. Images of his mother...his father...Shireece...all floated before his eyes. So many people, so many friends...lost now. Yes...he knew first-hand the pain of loss...and the guilt of survival. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Ryuhou stood up. Crossing the narrow gulf between them, he sat down on the edge of the other man's bed. As Kazuma looked up at him, Ryuhou could see the faint shimmer of tears that filled the one working eye.

 

“He's dead...” Kazuma whispered, “It's my fault...and...after that...after everything was over... I..just didn't give a fuck about anything... Still don't, really...”

 

“Kazuma...”

 

Despite the changes Kazuma's condition had wrought in the other's appearance, the scarred face before him looked almost childlike in the dim light. Childlike...and lost. Barely aware of what he was doing, Ryuhou reached up, gently cupping the other man's cheek in the palm of his hand. “Kazuma...” he said again, “I'm sorry...for you loss...” Although he meant them, the words seemed somehow empty to Ryuhou, an inadequate expression of his sympathy, of his desire to ease his former rival's pain. In the end, words were useless things.

 

Closing his eyes, Ryuhou leaned forward slightly, his arms wrapping around the shrunken, twisted body as his lips sought out Kazuma's in the darkness. He felt the other man stiffen in his arms, heard, as well as felt, the sharp intake of breath between the lips pressed against his own. Tightening his arms slightly around the other man, he pressed his mouth a little more firmly against Kazuma's, one hand sliding up over the other man's back until it tangled in the long strands of grey-shot auburn.

 

Ryuhou was as surprised by his own actions as Kazuma was. Of course, there had always been that strange connection between them, even when they first met and Ryuhou had believed Kazuma to be nothing more than just another Native Alter thug who had to be contained before he and his kind destroyed the Lost Ground. That strange feeling—part recognition, part...obsession...that the other man was not only like himself, but was in some unfathomable way part of himself. A part that he had long ago rejected, but which still refused to go away entirely.

 

Over time, he'd come to understand his rival a little better—first by seeing him through Kanami's eyes during the time that his own memories had been lost to him, and later, over the three months that he and Kazuma had spent almost constantly in each other's company while they fought off the Mainland's repeated attempts to reclaim the Lost Ground. During that time, Ryuhou learned something of his companion's past—albeit, not much—and had come to understand at least some of his motivations. Still...even during those times, the most he had ever felt for his companion was understanding and a grudging respect...not this almost overwhelming sympathy which caused him to reach out to the other, and certainly not this odd desire to...protect the other man. Where had that come from? He wasn't sure; all he knew was that he felt it...and that the warmth pressed against him, the lips meeting his own seemed somehow...right.

 

After a few moments, Ryuhou felt Kazuma relax against him, the thin, wiry arms rising to encircle his shoulders as the younger man's lips parted invitingly against his own. Despite the fact that he had started this, Ryuhou was far from being an expert at this sort of thing...and wasn't quite sure how to proceed. Fortunately, Kazuma soon took over and Ryuhou felt a warm, slick tongue insinuate itself between his own lips, invading the interior of his mouth, and the former HOLY officer suddenly felt warm and almost lightheaded. A feeling which only intensified as the other man shifted beside him, laying back against the pillows as his hand clutched at Ryuhou's shirt, tugging the older man down as well.

 

Feeling almost giddy, Ryuhou surrendered himself to the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against Kazuma's own, over the angles of the other man's face, the permanently closed eyelid. His hands, equally hungry, dipped underneath the material of Kazuma's shirt, caressing over warm, still slightly feverish skin, and he felt the other man's hands likewise tugging at his own shirt; rough, calloused palms rasping over his own back and shoulders; moist, heated lips moving over the side of his neck, his shoulder, warm breath steaming against his skin.

 

Panting softly, Ryuhou pushed himself up, his body hovering over Kazuma's as he gazed down at the other man for a long moment. Beneath him, Kazuma laid with his head turned to one side, his hair spilling over his cheek, obscuring his face. In the near darkness, Ryuhou could barely discern the rise and fall of his companion's chest, but he could clearly hear the other man's breathing, as uneven and labored as his own. Bracing himself with one hand, he pushed Kazuma's shirt up over his chest with the other before leaning down to engulf one erect nipple with his mouth.

 

Although Ryuhou had little idea what he was doing, the sharp gasp, and the way the other man arched against him let the green-haired man know that he was definitely doing something right. For the next few minutes, he lavished attention on first one nipple, then the other, swirling his tongue over and around the tiny nubs of flesh before breaking away to drag his tongue along the scars that criss-crossed Kazuma's chest and side, reveling in the gasps and soft moans that erupted from his companion. Pressing his lips against Kazuma's skin, he trailed heated kisses up along one of the scars that ran over the other Alter's chest leading up to his shoulder, a small smile curving his lips as he felt the other's hands once more entangle themselves in his hair.

 

“Thought...I wasn't your type...”

 

Chuckling softly, Ryuhou sat up on his knees, gazing down at Kazuma for a moment. “You're not,” he replied, stripping the other man's shirt off over his head, “But...I don't have anything else better to do right now...”

 

While Kazuma struggled for a scathing response, Ryuhou reached down, fumbling with the fastenings of the other man's pants before pushing them down over his hips and finally stripping them off entirely. By this point, his own body felt hot and flushed, and his own arousal stirred restlessly, but he ignored his own desires for now. Kazuma's needs outweighed his own, and the other man's weakened state forbade anything much more strenuous than the comfort he aimed to provide.

 

Leaning down, he gathered Kazuma into his arms, cradling the other man across his lap. Brushing kisses over his face and throat, he reached down, curling his hand around the other man's twitching erection, stroking him with slow, gentle strokes. Kazuma's head fell back onto Ryuhou's shoulder, and the older man felt his companion shudder against him, a low, liquid moan rising from his throat as his hips began to rock, meeting Ryuhou's strokes. Almost fascinated, he watched the subtle play of expression that flickered over the other man's face.

 

Quickening the pace of his strokes, Ryuhou leaned down, his lips once more capturing Kazuma's in a deep, heated kiss. More confident now, he slid his tongue into the recesses of the other man's mouth, savoring the spicy taste that was uniquely Kazuma. As the younger man arched up against him, his hips bucking frenziedly into Ryuhou's grip, the older man pumped him faster, trying to bring his companion the release he was straining for.

 

Before long, Kazuma's hands once again ascended, and Ryuhou felt the other man's fingers tangle in his hair, the wasted body tensing, trembling, as Kazuma arched up against him. A moment later, he felt Kazuma's cock twitch in his hand, followed shortly by the warm jet of the other man's essence spilling out over his fingers and coating his hand. After a long moment, the younger Alter relaxed again, slumping back against Ryuhou. Releasing the now waning erection, he surreptitiously wiped his hand off on the sheets before stretching out beside his companion on the narrow bed. Gathering Kazuma into his arms, he pulled the other man close, brushing gentle, soothing kisses over his hair and face. Sighing softly, Kazuma turned in his arms, curling up against Ryuhou, his head pillowed on the older man's shoulder.

 

“Why...?”

 

“I...don't know, really...” Ryuhou replied, a somewhat sheepish smile forming upon his lips as he gazed down at the other man. “I guess...you just looked like you needed it...”

 

In truth, Ryuhou wasn't quite sure why he had done what he'd done. It had started as an attempt to comfort his long-time rival, but somewhere along the line, things had changed to a desire to bring his companion pleasure. He knew what had happened...what he didn't know was why.

 

“Yeah? Hn...” Kazuma snorted a short laugh, a wide yawn splitting his face as he nuzzled wearily into Ryuhou's shoulder. “Maybe I did...”

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

Hours later, Kazuma lay awake, still curled up close to Ryuhou and listening to the soft sounds of the sleeping man's breathing, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath his cheek. He still didn't understand why Ryuhou had done what he had...or why he had allowed the other man to do so. It had been pleasurable, of course...and it had been...a long time since he had been touched in such a way...in a way that he'd never expected to be touched again...and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. Of course, it had felt good, but that very fact also made him feel somewhat guilty, as if he'd been unfaithful. What right did he have to feel such pleasure when Kimishima...

 

Sighing, he huddled closer to Ryuhou, burying his face in the side of the other man's neck. How could he have allowed this to happen—and with someone who had once been part of the organization responsible for Shima's death? True, Ryuhou himself hadn't been responsible...but at that time, he had still been a part of it. So...why was he here now, naked, curled up against his former enemy...and thinking about the next time they could lay together like this?

 

For that matter, why was he still here with Ryuhou in the first place? After the villagers had cleared him, there was really no reason for him to stay. But...it was too much effort to make the decision to leave...and it really didn't matter where he went, anyway...so...here was as good a place as any.

 

Of course, Ryuhou was still a smug, self-righteous asshole...but oddly enough, the other man didn't seem nearly as annoying as he remembered. Strangest of all, Kazuma now found the ex-HOLY officer's presence somehow...comforting—especially now. He knew his time was running out; every day, he could feel himself winding down a little more, like an old watch. And although he had never feared death, still, it was kinda...nice...to know that, when the time came, he wouldn't have to face it alone. So...it wasn't so wrong, was it? To simply want the comfort of a warm body next to his own for the time he had left—that was okay—wasn't it? Just a little companionship...a little pleasure...before the last of his life ran out... Wouldn't that be okay...? Even if his...bedmate...was an old enemy? Did that even matter anymore?

 

Confused, and still more than a little disturbed by what had happened between them, Kazuma finally decided not to worry about it any longer—for tonight at least. For tonight, he would simply accept what had been offered and let the next day take care of itself. Closing his eye, he rolled over, facing Ryuhou and draping one arm over the other man's waist. Burying his face in Ryuhou's chest, he inhaled deeply of the other man's scent, finding an odd comfort in his rival's presence as he allowed the sound of soft breathing and a strong, steady heartbeat to lull him to sleep.

 

 

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A/N: Thanks to all of you who have been reading and reviewing so far—I really appreciate your comments! ^_^