FIC: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji: Fall (2/9)
Title: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji: Fall (2/9)
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Series Notes: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji is a series set early in Batman and Superman's careers, shortly after the S/B annual #1. The full series can be found here.
Rating: R for violence
Summary: Bruce and Clark enjoy one perfect day at Nikko.
Word Count: 2500
I hear the wind
in the mountain trees
and the voices of the leaves
blown through air
then let go, falling
--Shotetsu
The woman who had been known until four months ago as Tatsu Yamashiro stood under a waterfall, a drawn katana in her hand. The icy water pummeled her body, but not as much as the blade in her grip pummeled her soul.
Four months ago she had changed her name to Katana and come here to the mountains to train and learn to master the sword that had taken the lives of her loved ones. This morning it hummed in her hands, a keening whine that set her teeth on edge. It chipped at her heart, offering her promises of glory and pleasure if she would only use the sword as it was meant to be used.
Soultaker was not happy to be controlled by one such as her.
Meditations done, she stepped out of the waterfall, feeling exhausted in body and spirit. The cursed thing fought her at every opportunity, but she would be its master. She shook water out of her hair--and caught a flicker of motion in the rippling river.
Her instincts deflected the first shuriken, her skill knocked the next five out of the air. As she flicked at the next, however, the sword twisted in her hand and she felt cold metal kiss her cheek, leaving acid in its wake.
Poison.
She felt it slowing her reflexes almost immediately and leaped in the direction the shuriken had come from, landing on a broad maple branch alongside a man dressed in black ninja garb. Scarlet foliage flew around the two of them as they sparred, the ninja tumbling backwards, biding his time as her motions became sluggish, the damned sword still fighting her every move. A final blow to the knee and she collapsed out of the tree to the ground, feeling bones break in her leg as she landed, limp as a rag doll.
She shrieked once, an animal cry of rage and fury, as he pulled the katana from her slackening grip. The lower half of his face was covered, but she could sense his feral grin in the motions of his body as he held Soultaker in front of himself. After picking up the scabbard from beside her campfire, he paused to bow mockingly to her crumpled body. < I believe Soultaker will find me a substantially better match than some unworthy girl, > he sneered. And then he was gone, leaving Tatsu to begin the long crawl back to the dojo, praying that the poison in her veins didn't finish her before she could give warning.
: : :
"I hate to mention this, but I think you're hovering just a bit, Clark," Bruce Wayne pointed out.
The man next to him was wearing a heavy jacket, jeans, and hiking boots, which looked particularly incongruous floating a centimeter above the ground. "Oh!" There was a slight thump as Clark Kent's feet connected with the pavement again. "Sorry. I'm just in such a good mood today, I can't help it." Clark beamed and didn't look particularly contrite as the two of them walked through rustling leaves.
Bruce snorted and rolled his eyes, trying to look gloomy. "You can't possibly be as happy as you look, Clark. No one is that happy."
Clark shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, smiling at the cloudless fall sky. "If you say so, Bruce. I bow to the world's leading authority on happiness." He actually bowed, glancing up from under a tumble of dark hair with a sly grin. And then he took a hand out of his pocket and took Bruce's hand, the fingers warm and gentle on cold skin.
"Clark," Bruce hissed, "We'll attract a lot of attention if we walk down the street holding hands."
The other man swung their hands between them like they were small children walking together. "We're already huge honking gaijin, Bruce. Let 'em stare." He met Bruce's glare squarely. "I just don't feel like letting go of you today," he said.
Bruce found he had little to say under the dazzling bright sky, flooded with sunlight. He let the clasp of his fingers, strong as he could manage, say what he couldn't seem to voice.
: : :
Clark felt Bruce's hand tighten and it was all he could do not to laugh with the pleasure of it, all he could do to keep his feet on the ground where they belonged and not whirl them both into the lapis sky, almost as blue as Bruce's eyes, almost as flawless as Bruce's smile. He even let Bruce pay for their admission to Toshogu, unwilling to argue about anything this morning.
They climbed the cedar-lined path to the most famous Shogun's mausoleum, passing stalls selling grilled skewered fish and glazed sweet potatoes, cedar chips soft under their feet. As they reached the first building in the compound, Clark whistled in amazement. "This is a bit different from the temples we saw in Kyoto," he said, unsure whether he felt admiring or appalled.
The buildings and gates were covered with the most ornate carvings Clark had ever seen, garishly colored in scarlet, green, and gold. Stylized dragons and lions leered from every rooftop; ornate blossoms and leaves covered every square inch of architecture. Everything was picked out in gilt that glowed and glittered in the sun. The overall effect managed to be both awe-inspiring and vulgar. "It's kind of...flashy, isn't it?" Clark muttered as they made their way along the stone paths through gate after magnificent gate.
"He was one of the most powerful and influential men of his time, Clark."
"I suspect he was a jackass, too."
Bruce snorted laughter. "He was a realist in a violent time. He survived by his wiles, wits, and good strategy to become a great leader and unifier. He would have felt he deserved a nice memorial for that."
"I begin to suspect you admire the man," Clark said, letting Bruce's hand slip from his for a moment, letting the other man walk ahead a few steps.
Bruce turned and beamed at him, his face playboy-charming and voice light. "What's not to admire about a brutal strategist and cunning survivor who wanted beautiful things near him always?"
Clark stared. "I can never tell if you're making fun of me or trying to pay me a compliment."
"I'm just talking about historical figures, Clark." The smirk Bruce tossed back at him was ambiguous and elusive as fog.
The valley the complex nestled in seemed to be brimming with afternoon sunlight dancing off the scarlet foliage and the gilt buildings, like a cup filled with light. A soul filled with light. Clark stopped for a moment and took a deep breath of brightness, his eyes closed. He opened his eyes to find Bruce looking at him in a haze of sunlight, a long, appraising look. "It's a perfect day, isn't it?" Clark said, and Bruce nodded.
"Perfect."
They strolled around the grounds, taking their time and enjoying the scenery, until Bruce suggested they leave and get some lunch. At a little noodle shop near the grounds, Clark slurped buckwheat noodles as a television muttered in the background and Japanese tourists drank beer and laughed. Across the table, Bruce sipped his broth and eyed him over the rim of the bowl.
That their feet were touching under the table could have been an accident.
Clark set his bowl down and sighed with satisfaction. "So," he said, "Do you think this can work?" Bruce cocked an inquisitive eyebrow and Clark continued, waving his chopsticks. "You know, this. Us. That we can work together and blow off steam together sometimes and just...have fun together? Be there for each other as teammates and friends and...enjoy this, too?"
He was surprised to find he was holding his breath waiting for Bruce's answer, and when the other man shook his head dubiously, Clark felt his spirits sink. "I don't know, Clark," Bruce said slowly. "In my experience, that kind of relationship doesn't often work. Someone always ends up wanting more, wanting a commitment, a real full-time relationship, and then the playtime's over one way or the other."
Clark frowned, feeling stung. "I don't think it's fair to just assume I'd demand more than this."
Bruce's gaze was level and grave. "Did I say anything about you being the one to want more?"
Clark realized his mouth was hanging open; he closed it carefully, opened it again, and found he had no idea what to say. Bruce frowned furiously into his soup bowl and Clark gathered himself for another attempt...but before he could find words, Bruce's head snapped around to stare at the television.
The talking head was reading from a piece of paper. < ...leaving five prison guards dead. Kyodai was recently convicted of the murder of a prominent businessman and an assassination attempt on the Prime Minister. His whereabouts are unknown at this time. To repeat, Kyodai Ken has... >
Bruce was already out of the shop; Clark dropped money on the table and followed him, hurrying to catch up. Bruce whirled. "The wedding yesterday. He hates Yoru-sensei almost as much as he hates me, he'll try to find Kaori and her new husband, make us all suffer. We have to find him first."
"Change. I'll give you a lift."
"Yes."
: : :
Yoru-sensei did not seem particularly surprised when Superman and Batman appeared at the dojo. "You heard," he said.
"Yes. I had my friend fly me here." Which was true, if a bit misleading. Bruce was fairly certain his old teacher knew perfectly well that Bruce and Batman were one and the same, but he had never said so directly.
"I called Kaori and told her and Hiroshi to come home. They just arrived in Nagano and will turn around and come back."
Batman turned to Superman. "Can you bring them both back? It's quicker and safer."
"Of course." Superman listened carefully to Yoru-sensei's directions, then sprang into the air and was gone.
Yoru-sensei frowned as Superman dwindled into the sky. "Katana is isolated deep in the mountains and will not return for days still. She should be informed that there is danger here."
"Superman or I will go look for her once we know Kaori is safe. We can't--"
There was a shattering of paper and wood as the shoji windows of the dojo gave way before Kyodai Ken's leap. The ninja was carrying a drawn sword, his eyes blazing, his fighting style more ferocious than ever before. Batman dodged the whistling blade, and behind him Yoru cried out. "The sword--he is wielding Soultaker!"
Bruce cursed to himself as Kyodai's chuckle echoed through the room. He had no doubt Katana was badly hurt, perhaps dead, if the ninja were carrying her sword. He put the thought away brutally, telling himself to focus on the here and now.
The here and now was that he was fighting a deadly ninja with a soul-devouring blade in a building full of young students, not to mention his old friend and teacher. Batman pivoted and leapt from the dojo through the same window Kyodai had come in, the blade singing just past his neck.
The ninja pursued him onto the gently sloping grounds, white pebbles scattering like hail before them. Yoru-sensei didn't follow after, and Bruce knew he would be evacuating any bystanders in the other direction. He led Kyodai further away from the dojo and into the woods, eerie laughter echoing after him.
Batman used low-hanging branches of a maple tree to block wildly hacking blows from the ninja. "Coward! Rich man's son!" Kyodai howled. "Stand tall and face your master!" The ninja pulled back and sheathed the sword, then flicked shuriken from his belt like silver snowflakes at Batman: one, two, three coming at him. He shifted his stance to dodge as Kyodai dropped into a roll.
A flicker of red and blue out of the corner of his eye, and in a frozen moment Bruce saw Kyodai coming out of his roll, unsheathing the sword, gleeful anticipation in every line.
: : :
Superman dropped Kaori and her new husband onto the porch; Kaori flew to her foster-father's arms. "Kyodai is here, he attacked Batman and the Dark Knight led him away into the woods, in that direction." Yoru pointed and Clark was gone in a burst of speed before he could say more, heart pounding.
From the sky he spotted them in a clearing, two figures circling each other warily. The ninja stepped back, and Superman saw steel floating toward Batman's head: three shuriken, poison sheening their edges. Bruce could probably handle them, he could surely handle them...but Superman couldn't bear to wait and see when he could make sure Bruce was safe. He darted down from the sky and plucked the deadly projectiles out of the air, landing between the two assailants. He turned to flash Batman an apologetic smile--and saw the horror on Bruce's face at the same moment he felt the blade bury itself in his back, cold as death.
Cold as death.
: : :
Bruce saw surprise bloom on Clark's face as the sword cut through invulnerable cloth, invulnerable skin, invulnerable flesh. The katana emerged just below the "S," dripping red, the tip rising to brush Bruce's cheek as gently and obscenely as a kiss. Clark gasped in shock, brilliant red froth on his lips, as he staggered forward into Bruce's arms.
Kyodai kicked the Kryptonian forward off the sword, wrenching it out with a vicious twist. "Everything you hold dear," he hissed at Bruce. "I'll take it all." Then he was gone in a rustle of leaves and half-sane laughter.
Bruce knew he should be following the ninja, should be...but Clark's hands were in his cape and Clark's blood was everywhere, and Clark's eyes were vague and clouding over. "No," Bruce said, his voice sounding very far away.
Clark's lips moved slightly but there were no words, only blood. Blue eyes growing dull as stones, locking on his, wordlessly saying more than Bruce could bear.
Sunlight. He had to get Clark into sunlight. It might help. It might.
He staggered a few steps with the heavy body (growing heavier, going limp) in his arms, maneuvered Clark into a beam of sunlight coming down through the branches. The golden light hit the Kryptonian, bathing him in radiance, touching his hair with brilliance, gilding his skin. But the wound continued to drip blood onto the dead leaves, turning them a deeper crimson, and Clark didn't heal. His eyes closed and his breath stilled to the merest thread, a scarlet thread that bound Bruce's sanity together.
Bruce Wayne knelt beside Superman in a glory of falling autumn leaves and sunlight, and felt him slipping away.
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Series Notes: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji is a series set early in Batman and Superman's careers, shortly after the S/B annual #1. The full series can be found here.
Rating: R for violence
Summary: Bruce and Clark enjoy one perfect day at Nikko.
Word Count: 2500
I hear the wind
in the mountain trees
and the voices of the leaves
blown through air
then let go, falling
--Shotetsu
The woman who had been known until four months ago as Tatsu Yamashiro stood under a waterfall, a drawn katana in her hand. The icy water pummeled her body, but not as much as the blade in her grip pummeled her soul.
Four months ago she had changed her name to Katana and come here to the mountains to train and learn to master the sword that had taken the lives of her loved ones. This morning it hummed in her hands, a keening whine that set her teeth on edge. It chipped at her heart, offering her promises of glory and pleasure if she would only use the sword as it was meant to be used.
Soultaker was not happy to be controlled by one such as her.
Meditations done, she stepped out of the waterfall, feeling exhausted in body and spirit. The cursed thing fought her at every opportunity, but she would be its master. She shook water out of her hair--and caught a flicker of motion in the rippling river.
Her instincts deflected the first shuriken, her skill knocked the next five out of the air. As she flicked at the next, however, the sword twisted in her hand and she felt cold metal kiss her cheek, leaving acid in its wake.
Poison.
She felt it slowing her reflexes almost immediately and leaped in the direction the shuriken had come from, landing on a broad maple branch alongside a man dressed in black ninja garb. Scarlet foliage flew around the two of them as they sparred, the ninja tumbling backwards, biding his time as her motions became sluggish, the damned sword still fighting her every move. A final blow to the knee and she collapsed out of the tree to the ground, feeling bones break in her leg as she landed, limp as a rag doll.
She shrieked once, an animal cry of rage and fury, as he pulled the katana from her slackening grip. The lower half of his face was covered, but she could sense his feral grin in the motions of his body as he held Soultaker in front of himself. After picking up the scabbard from beside her campfire, he paused to bow mockingly to her crumpled body. < I believe Soultaker will find me a substantially better match than some unworthy girl, > he sneered. And then he was gone, leaving Tatsu to begin the long crawl back to the dojo, praying that the poison in her veins didn't finish her before she could give warning.
: : :
"I hate to mention this, but I think you're hovering just a bit, Clark," Bruce Wayne pointed out.
The man next to him was wearing a heavy jacket, jeans, and hiking boots, which looked particularly incongruous floating a centimeter above the ground. "Oh!" There was a slight thump as Clark Kent's feet connected with the pavement again. "Sorry. I'm just in such a good mood today, I can't help it." Clark beamed and didn't look particularly contrite as the two of them walked through rustling leaves.
Bruce snorted and rolled his eyes, trying to look gloomy. "You can't possibly be as happy as you look, Clark. No one is that happy."
Clark shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, smiling at the cloudless fall sky. "If you say so, Bruce. I bow to the world's leading authority on happiness." He actually bowed, glancing up from under a tumble of dark hair with a sly grin. And then he took a hand out of his pocket and took Bruce's hand, the fingers warm and gentle on cold skin.
"Clark," Bruce hissed, "We'll attract a lot of attention if we walk down the street holding hands."
The other man swung their hands between them like they were small children walking together. "We're already huge honking gaijin, Bruce. Let 'em stare." He met Bruce's glare squarely. "I just don't feel like letting go of you today," he said.
Bruce found he had little to say under the dazzling bright sky, flooded with sunlight. He let the clasp of his fingers, strong as he could manage, say what he couldn't seem to voice.
: : :
Clark felt Bruce's hand tighten and it was all he could do not to laugh with the pleasure of it, all he could do to keep his feet on the ground where they belonged and not whirl them both into the lapis sky, almost as blue as Bruce's eyes, almost as flawless as Bruce's smile. He even let Bruce pay for their admission to Toshogu, unwilling to argue about anything this morning.
They climbed the cedar-lined path to the most famous Shogun's mausoleum, passing stalls selling grilled skewered fish and glazed sweet potatoes, cedar chips soft under their feet. As they reached the first building in the compound, Clark whistled in amazement. "This is a bit different from the temples we saw in Kyoto," he said, unsure whether he felt admiring or appalled.
The buildings and gates were covered with the most ornate carvings Clark had ever seen, garishly colored in scarlet, green, and gold. Stylized dragons and lions leered from every rooftop; ornate blossoms and leaves covered every square inch of architecture. Everything was picked out in gilt that glowed and glittered in the sun. The overall effect managed to be both awe-inspiring and vulgar. "It's kind of...flashy, isn't it?" Clark muttered as they made their way along the stone paths through gate after magnificent gate.
"He was one of the most powerful and influential men of his time, Clark."
"I suspect he was a jackass, too."
Bruce snorted laughter. "He was a realist in a violent time. He survived by his wiles, wits, and good strategy to become a great leader and unifier. He would have felt he deserved a nice memorial for that."
"I begin to suspect you admire the man," Clark said, letting Bruce's hand slip from his for a moment, letting the other man walk ahead a few steps.
Bruce turned and beamed at him, his face playboy-charming and voice light. "What's not to admire about a brutal strategist and cunning survivor who wanted beautiful things near him always?"
Clark stared. "I can never tell if you're making fun of me or trying to pay me a compliment."
"I'm just talking about historical figures, Clark." The smirk Bruce tossed back at him was ambiguous and elusive as fog.
The valley the complex nestled in seemed to be brimming with afternoon sunlight dancing off the scarlet foliage and the gilt buildings, like a cup filled with light. A soul filled with light. Clark stopped for a moment and took a deep breath of brightness, his eyes closed. He opened his eyes to find Bruce looking at him in a haze of sunlight, a long, appraising look. "It's a perfect day, isn't it?" Clark said, and Bruce nodded.
"Perfect."
They strolled around the grounds, taking their time and enjoying the scenery, until Bruce suggested they leave and get some lunch. At a little noodle shop near the grounds, Clark slurped buckwheat noodles as a television muttered in the background and Japanese tourists drank beer and laughed. Across the table, Bruce sipped his broth and eyed him over the rim of the bowl.
That their feet were touching under the table could have been an accident.
Clark set his bowl down and sighed with satisfaction. "So," he said, "Do you think this can work?" Bruce cocked an inquisitive eyebrow and Clark continued, waving his chopsticks. "You know, this. Us. That we can work together and blow off steam together sometimes and just...have fun together? Be there for each other as teammates and friends and...enjoy this, too?"
He was surprised to find he was holding his breath waiting for Bruce's answer, and when the other man shook his head dubiously, Clark felt his spirits sink. "I don't know, Clark," Bruce said slowly. "In my experience, that kind of relationship doesn't often work. Someone always ends up wanting more, wanting a commitment, a real full-time relationship, and then the playtime's over one way or the other."
Clark frowned, feeling stung. "I don't think it's fair to just assume I'd demand more than this."
Bruce's gaze was level and grave. "Did I say anything about you being the one to want more?"
Clark realized his mouth was hanging open; he closed it carefully, opened it again, and found he had no idea what to say. Bruce frowned furiously into his soup bowl and Clark gathered himself for another attempt...but before he could find words, Bruce's head snapped around to stare at the television.
The talking head was reading from a piece of paper. < ...leaving five prison guards dead. Kyodai was recently convicted of the murder of a prominent businessman and an assassination attempt on the Prime Minister. His whereabouts are unknown at this time. To repeat, Kyodai Ken has... >
Bruce was already out of the shop; Clark dropped money on the table and followed him, hurrying to catch up. Bruce whirled. "The wedding yesterday. He hates Yoru-sensei almost as much as he hates me, he'll try to find Kaori and her new husband, make us all suffer. We have to find him first."
"Change. I'll give you a lift."
"Yes."
: : :
Yoru-sensei did not seem particularly surprised when Superman and Batman appeared at the dojo. "You heard," he said.
"Yes. I had my friend fly me here." Which was true, if a bit misleading. Bruce was fairly certain his old teacher knew perfectly well that Bruce and Batman were one and the same, but he had never said so directly.
"I called Kaori and told her and Hiroshi to come home. They just arrived in Nagano and will turn around and come back."
Batman turned to Superman. "Can you bring them both back? It's quicker and safer."
"Of course." Superman listened carefully to Yoru-sensei's directions, then sprang into the air and was gone.
Yoru-sensei frowned as Superman dwindled into the sky. "Katana is isolated deep in the mountains and will not return for days still. She should be informed that there is danger here."
"Superman or I will go look for her once we know Kaori is safe. We can't--"
There was a shattering of paper and wood as the shoji windows of the dojo gave way before Kyodai Ken's leap. The ninja was carrying a drawn sword, his eyes blazing, his fighting style more ferocious than ever before. Batman dodged the whistling blade, and behind him Yoru cried out. "The sword--he is wielding Soultaker!"
Bruce cursed to himself as Kyodai's chuckle echoed through the room. He had no doubt Katana was badly hurt, perhaps dead, if the ninja were carrying her sword. He put the thought away brutally, telling himself to focus on the here and now.
The here and now was that he was fighting a deadly ninja with a soul-devouring blade in a building full of young students, not to mention his old friend and teacher. Batman pivoted and leapt from the dojo through the same window Kyodai had come in, the blade singing just past his neck.
The ninja pursued him onto the gently sloping grounds, white pebbles scattering like hail before them. Yoru-sensei didn't follow after, and Bruce knew he would be evacuating any bystanders in the other direction. He led Kyodai further away from the dojo and into the woods, eerie laughter echoing after him.
Batman used low-hanging branches of a maple tree to block wildly hacking blows from the ninja. "Coward! Rich man's son!" Kyodai howled. "Stand tall and face your master!" The ninja pulled back and sheathed the sword, then flicked shuriken from his belt like silver snowflakes at Batman: one, two, three coming at him. He shifted his stance to dodge as Kyodai dropped into a roll.
A flicker of red and blue out of the corner of his eye, and in a frozen moment Bruce saw Kyodai coming out of his roll, unsheathing the sword, gleeful anticipation in every line.
: : :
Superman dropped Kaori and her new husband onto the porch; Kaori flew to her foster-father's arms. "Kyodai is here, he attacked Batman and the Dark Knight led him away into the woods, in that direction." Yoru pointed and Clark was gone in a burst of speed before he could say more, heart pounding.
From the sky he spotted them in a clearing, two figures circling each other warily. The ninja stepped back, and Superman saw steel floating toward Batman's head: three shuriken, poison sheening their edges. Bruce could probably handle them, he could surely handle them...but Superman couldn't bear to wait and see when he could make sure Bruce was safe. He darted down from the sky and plucked the deadly projectiles out of the air, landing between the two assailants. He turned to flash Batman an apologetic smile--and saw the horror on Bruce's face at the same moment he felt the blade bury itself in his back, cold as death.
Cold as death.
: : :
Bruce saw surprise bloom on Clark's face as the sword cut through invulnerable cloth, invulnerable skin, invulnerable flesh. The katana emerged just below the "S," dripping red, the tip rising to brush Bruce's cheek as gently and obscenely as a kiss. Clark gasped in shock, brilliant red froth on his lips, as he staggered forward into Bruce's arms.
Kyodai kicked the Kryptonian forward off the sword, wrenching it out with a vicious twist. "Everything you hold dear," he hissed at Bruce. "I'll take it all." Then he was gone in a rustle of leaves and half-sane laughter.
Bruce knew he should be following the ninja, should be...but Clark's hands were in his cape and Clark's blood was everywhere, and Clark's eyes were vague and clouding over. "No," Bruce said, his voice sounding very far away.
Clark's lips moved slightly but there were no words, only blood. Blue eyes growing dull as stones, locking on his, wordlessly saying more than Bruce could bear.
Sunlight. He had to get Clark into sunlight. It might help. It might.
He staggered a few steps with the heavy body (growing heavier, going limp) in his arms, maneuvered Clark into a beam of sunlight coming down through the branches. The golden light hit the Kryptonian, bathing him in radiance, touching his hair with brilliance, gilding his skin. But the wound continued to drip blood onto the dead leaves, turning them a deeper crimson, and Clark didn't heal. His eyes closed and his breath stilled to the merest thread, a scarlet thread that bound Bruce's sanity together.
Bruce Wayne knelt beside Superman in a glory of falling autumn leaves and sunlight, and felt him slipping away.