[Lamento] Between Two Thieves, Part 1

[aphelion_orion]

Title: Between Two Thieves
Fandom: Lamento - Beyond the Void
Part: 1/6
Rating: overall R
Characters/Pairings: Bardo, RaixKonoe
Warnings: violence, backstory spoilers
Disclaimer: Lamento belongs to Nitro+Chiral.
Notes: Many, many thanks to akuma_no_kage for betaing, sexual_ennui for all the wanking and hand-holding, and jllai_smile for listening to my complaints.

Summary: We tend to crucify ourselves between two thieves - regret for the past and fear of the future. ~ Fulton Oursler

Story Index | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Epilogue



Between Two Thieves
Chapter 1

The air flowing over the plains was crisp and sweet, carrying with it the faintest hint of salt from the ocean, miles and miles away, and the fragrant smell of blooming pasana herbs.

Standing on the hilltop and gazing at the forest rising in the distance, Bardo inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of his childhood, the scent of home. Strange, how the breeze never seemed quite as fresh elsewhere, quite as sweet. The winds whipping over the peaks of the Blue Mountains were harsh and cold, smelling of gravel and coming frost. In the valleys to the south, it smelled of damp leaves and mushrooms all year round because of the frequent rains, and in Ransen, the air was stuffy and warm, carrying with it so many different impressions, the aroma from restaurants and the smell of hot metal from the smithies, the herbs and spices from the market stalls, the odor of a general business that shifted with the ebb and flow of the crowd. Nowhere else was quite like Setsura.

And so, the hunter turned poet makes his return, Bardo mused to himself, lips quirking at his own thoughts. Seems like absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

Shaking his head and shouldering his knapsack, he began to make his way down the side of the hill, towards the forest.

It had taken him years, but he was finally home.

----

In all the time he had been gone, Setsura barely seemed to have changed. There were still the same roads, the same huts huddling together in small clusters, still the same kuim orchard at the village entrance, with the same moss-mottled stone shrine next to the fence. Save for an additional house or two, it felt as if time had stood still in Setsura for the entire duration of his absence, and now that he had returned, someone had wound up the clock again, allowing him to resume his life where he had left off.

The only thing that made it seem like he had been gone at all were the curious, suspicious glances he received from people passing him by on the street. He ignored them for the most part-the Setsurans had always been a distrustful lot, treating strangers with an air of haughty offense. He certainly looked the part of a vagabond, he supposed, with his foreign clothes and rugged appearance. He could do with a wash and a shave, probably.

His home was as he had left it, untouched save for a carving on one of the wooden shutters, proclaiming "N + Z", with a little heart surrounding both letters.

Silly kids and their silly ideas of vandalizing other people's property.

Idly wondering about the couple that would leave such a mark behind-teenagers, most likely, the girl hanging on to the boy's arm and giggling at his daring act-he pushed open the door to be greeted by an atmosphere of quiet dustiness. Every surface was covered with a soft gray layer, fine flakes of dust dancing in the beam of light from the open doorway.

It had been a long time, after all.

For a few moments, Bardo stood squinting into the gloom, wrinkling his nose against the smell of stale air.

Finally, he crossed the living area to the bedroom, leaving bootprints in the dust as he went. In the bedroom, the dust lay just as thick, covering furniture and blankets alike. Bardo sneezed.

Well, at least they didn't break in and have sex on the bed.

Setting his knapsack down and stirring a small flurry of dust bunnies, he stepped to the window, pushing the shutters open to let in some light and fresh air. He would have to tidy things up a little if he meant to sleep here tonight.

Walking back over to the bed, he pulled the last bit of bacon from his knapsack and began chewing thoughtfully. He was tired, but he would have to clean the bedroom. And the kitchen. See if the water pump was working. Restock some supplies. The other rooms could wait, it was not like he was going to use any of them anytime soon...

A muffled thump startled him from his musings, followed by the sounds of running feet.

Upstairs.

Bardo frowned. Something had probably gotten in and made its lair here while he had been gone.

Letting the bacon sink back into the bag, he drew his dagger. He would have to deal with it, and quickly-there was nothing like having unwelcome boarders; hopefully it was just some kind of rodent.

He swiftly climbed the ladder leading to the attic, sliding the bolt on the trap door into the "open" position and quietly pushing the door upwards.

Whatever had made itself at home in his attic did not immediately attack him, which was good. He was just about to pull himself up onto the floor when a quiet gasp made him freeze in mid-motion.

A few feet away from him, half-hidden behind some crates, sat not an animal, but a scrawny little boy with dirty cheeks, staring at him with huge, frightened blue eyes.

"Hey..." Bardo began cautiously.

But the tentative call was all it took. Scrambling over the boxes and clutter in his way, the boy rushed for the open window.

"Hey!"

Bardo hastily pulled himself up onto the floor and stumbled after him, but it was too late.

The boy leapt.

By the time Bardo reached the window, all he could see was the flash of a white tail as the boy jumped straight off the side of the roof, landing on his feet in a way that must have hurt, but immediately getting up and bolting into the surrounding bushes.

Bardo stood still for a moment, staring after him in disbelief.

Shaking his head, he withdrew from the window. It was only then that he noticed he was still holding the dagger in his hand.

Oh, brilliant.

No wonder the kid had run away. He had probably thought that Bardo was going to skin him alive.

"Just brilliant," Bardo reiterated to the empty attic. Pointing weapons at small children was definitely not the high point of his career.

It did not take him long to find out that the boy had not just been snooping around.

A corner of the attic had been transformed into a hideout, a moth-eaten sheet acting as a makeshift curtain, concealing a virtual nest made of a quilt and a pile of old pillows, the down bleeding out of their corners. Next to the "bed" set a flat bowl filled with candle stumps, surrounded by various small things-a bundle of feathers of different shapes and sizes, a small knife and some carved sticks, a bag of marbles, some corks and polished stones, a piece of rope that was coming apart.

A boy's treasure.

Bardo smiled at the sight. It reminded him of himself, dragging items he deemed valuable into a secluded place to play undisturbed by prying eyes. The child would probably return to get some of his things-the knife, especially, was a precious commodity in the life of any boy. Perhaps then, he could apologize for frightening him.

In the meantime, though: food. His stomach growled in appreciation at the plan, and with a bounce to his step, he climbed down the ladder, leaving the empty house and heading in the direction of the market.

----

The market was, of course, nothing compared to what the stalls yielded in Ransen, but it would cook him dinner for one evening and provide him with basic supplies of flour and honey, maybe some onions and cabbage...

Bardo was so caught up in perusing the vegetables that he almost did not hear the voice, addressing him tentatively.

"Excuse me, but..."

He turned to meet the eyes of a silver-haired woman, who was carrying a basket full of groceries and studying him curiously. As he blinked, wondering what she could possibly want from him-not that he was complaining about attention from a pretty girl, no-she leaned forward, peering closely at his face.

"Cheryl?" she asked, something like joyful disbelief coloring her voice.

"Er..." he said intelligently.

"Cheryl! I can't believe it is you! It's been so long!"

"Uh..."

Wait a moment... pale green eyes, silver hair and black-spotted fur he would recognize anywhere...

"...Rika?!"

"Took you long enough!" she laughed, and let her basket slide to the ground in order to step closer and bump her nose against his shoulder in greeting.

Still fighting against his bewilderment, he returned the gesture. "You've changed so much, I hardly recognized you."

Rika smiled. "Talk about yourself! I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. You're not just passing through, are you?"

"No, I..." He hesitated. "I was thinking of cleaning up the old house, staying for a bit."

"That's wonderful! You surprised all of us when you were suddenly gone. What have you been up to?"

Bardo shrugged, letting an impish grin slide across his face. "Oh, this and that. Sometimes more of this..."

His emphasis had the intended effect; she snorted. "Oh, you're incorrigible. Just as always."

She picked up her basket and beckoned him with her free hand. "Walk with me for a while?"

After a moment, Bardo decided to let the onions be onions. He had never been particularly good at saying no to Rika, anyway.

----

"So, you are 'Bardo' now?"

Somehow, he had ended up in Rika's home, leaning against the edge of the table as she put away the groceries. During the walk there, Rika had filled him in on the comings and goings in Setsura, and although Bardo had listened with interest, he found himself not really connected to the events, the faces of the people she was talking about blurred in his memory, far removed and almost meaningless.

He nodded, a little amused at the way she wrinkled her nose.

"How come?"

"Oh, you know..." Bardo trailed off, making a vague motion with his hand. How could he put into words why he had changed his name, why he had wanted to sever all ties to his home, to his old life, angry at his parents and angry at their loss?

He had wanted to start anew. A clean slate. To think that life would eventually lead him back here...

But that had been so long ago. Telling it to Rika now felt more than a bit uncomfortable. "...'Bandit Hunter Cheryl' doesn't sound very fearsome."

Rika laughed. "True, true."

Bardo gave her a lopsided grin and decided to change the subject. "How is Anri?"

Rika flicked a strand of hair out of her face. "He's just fine," she replied. "Out hunting, I hope he brings back something decent. He's going to be so surprised to see you!"

"Surprised to see you flirting with a rogue, you mean," Bardo teased, acutely conscious of his desperately in-need-of-grooming fur.

"Surprised to find the rogue still alive, more like," Rika shot back, pouring a satchel of nuts into a wooden box.

"Ah, and here I thought he managed to turn you into a regular housewife."

"Psh. Never," she laughed, rolling up a sleeve and showing him the flex of the muscles in her arm. Bardo laughed, too, secretly glad that he had managed to successfully divert her attention.

Rika ducked into the pantry.

"As housewifey as it sounds, you are going to stay for dinner, aren't you," she called, rummaging around until all he could see from his vantage point was the concentrated flicking of her tail.

"I really don't want to intrude," Bardo said evasively, casting his eyes about the kitchen as he attempted to come up with a good excuse. As nice as it had been to see Rika again, he would have preferred to spend some time alone to get used to the place again.

"Nonsense," she replied, stepping back out. "I suggested it, so you aren't intruding. For old times' sake, Cheryl?"

"Eh..." He scratched his neck, slightly embarrassed. He really had never been particularly good at saying no to Rika.

----

When Anri arrived, there was laughter, good-natured cursing-"You son of a-where have you been hiding?!"-and claps on the back. Out of the three of them, he appeared to have undergone the least changes, gifted with a strong build and ageless features that made it difficult to tell whether he was twenty or fifty.

"...Still, you could have told us."

They were sitting at the table in the living room, licking sherry out of small, flat cups. Anri's face had changed from curious and jovial to dead-serious in the blink of an eye, the smile gone, his gaze piercing.

Ah, of course.

Nobody could harbor misgivings for as long as Anri. Still, it was not like he was not right, it was just that Bardo had hoped... what? To avoid questions? How ridiculous. He had known there would be questions. But the angry stare, coupled with the years that lay between them, did not make it any easier to answer.

How to explain to Anri, a man who had hardly known his parents, that his mother had been his most important person? How to explain the many years he had spent trying to please her, trying to follow a fragile, sickly woman's desperate pleas-"Please, Cheryl, promise me you will never be reckless like your father"-burying the urge to fight, to explore, to be free, all to see her pale, tired face light up with a smile? How to explain the urge to flee, once the chains had been broken? He could barely explain it to himself.

In the end, he said nothing, and looked away.

Anri cleared his throat. "You could have sent word. We would've liked to know that you were, I don't know, not dead in a gutter somewhere."

A sigh. "...I'm sorry."

He knew that this was not the reply Anri wanted, but what else could he say?

He was stupidly grateful when he heard the door creak, sure that Rika would be able to diffuse the tension crackling in the air between them.

It was not Rika who entered, though-it was a scrawny little boy with fluffy white fur, carrying a stack of plates and bowls. He froze when he caught sight of Bardo, his tail bristling, blue eyes wide.

Bardo blinked in surprise. "Hey, weren't you..."

"Hm?" Anri asked, leaning forward and frowning. "Do you know each other?"

"Well..."

The boy's eyes grew a fraction wider, and suddenly, Bardo found himself remembering a strange episode from his own childhood-the discovery of his own secret place, reported to his mother by an overly curious neighbor, and the subsequent drama.

"...Eh, I just thought I saw him around. The tail's quite recognizable."

"Ah," Anri replied, turning back to his sherry, and Bardo took the opportunity to give the boy a conspiratorial wink. The child stared back for a moment, confused and still suspicious. Then, he moved to set the plates on the table.

In the prolonged silence that followed, Bardo glanced at Anri, slightly bewildered that he was not about to make introductions, and that Rika had not said a single word about the boy. Weren't their children usually the first thing parents talked about?

"So, I never knew you had kids," he prompted.

A strange shadow passed over Anri's face. There was a long, heavy pause, from which the clanging of cutlery was strangely absent. "Rai... is the only one."

Bardo blinked, taken aback by the tone, which had sounded flat, almost accusatory. After another long pause, he decided to change the subject, and told himself that there was nothing strange about the child, who had resumed laying out the forks and knives with nary a sound.

----

A week later, he had nearly forgotten the incident and the boy's silent, ghostlike presence at the dinner table, when he heard a thump from upstairs.

Bardo stopped dragging apple rings through batter to listen for a moment, before smiling to himself. It seemed like he had been right.

On a whim, he grabbed one of the fried pieces, still warm and greasy between his fingers, and went outside. Just in time, apparently, since the boy was about to disappear into the bushes again, carrying an armful of his treasure.

"Hey, Rai!" Bardo called.

When the boy froze-this was becoming a regular occurrence-he smiled. He had thought about it for a long time, recalling the hassle of finding another secret place after that neighbor had exposed him. He had decided that he did not mind his little visitor.

"I'm sorry about the other day. You don't have to leave, you know."

The boy blinked, wariness clear in his eyes.

"I don't mind if you stay, as long as you don't set the house on fire or anything."

The white ears perked, and Rai shifted.

"I'm not going to tell on you, either. Promise," Bardo said, lifting his hand to his chest, belatedly remembering that he still had batter on his fingers.

Ah, well.

Rai stayed silent, but Bardo could tell that he was considering his words.

He smiled again. "I'm not thinking up ways to murder you horribly, I swear. Here..." He held out the apple ring. "Peace offering?"

The boy gave the treat a long hard stare, tail swishing slightly from side to side.

"Don't want it?" he teased, but the boy stayed where he was. Bardo sighed. Well, he was the proverbial suspicious man offering candy to a small child. And this boy was smarter than most, if he was keeping his distance like that.

"You know what?" he finally said, "I'm gonna put it here for you..." He set the apple ring down on the windowsill. "...and you can take it whenever you feel like it."

With that, he walked back into the kitchen, resuming his task. He listened for any hints of the boy moving, but there were none.

When he risked a glance out the door a few minutes later, both kitten and apple ring were gone.

----

The treat, it seemed, had done the trick.

The boy became an almost daily visitor, sometimes staying only briefly, sometimes for hours on end, and when he was home, Bardo would frequently interrupt his work to listen to the multitude of noises from upstairs, grinning to himself as he imagined Rai at play.

Rai never used the front entrance, came and went without so much as a 'hello' or 'goodbye', but Bardo found himself strangely charmed by his standoffish behavior. He could not really explain why, since he had never been particularly interested in children, had never thought of starting his own family. Regardless, he kept leaving treats and candy on the windowsill, amused by the thought of the boy, creeping up warily to quickly snatch them and dart off again.

Things continued in this vein until one early evening found him sitting outside on the porch, taking care of his weapons.

Suddenly, the bushes to his left rustled and moved, and Bardo thought he saw a hint of white just before Rai crawled out, plucking leaves and twigs from his hair and clothes. He hesitated when he caught sight of Bardo sitting on the front steps, who picked up the whetstone and started sharpening his sword with an air of affected concentration.

Rai sat there crouching for a very long time, watching Bardo's movements with rapt attention.

Finally, Bardo decided to take pity on him. It was obvious that the child would not come closer of his own accord.

"I can't imagine you can see very much from over there," he called, placing the sword across his lap and patting the floor beside him. "The porch is big. We can share, don't you think?"

The boy's ears twitched, but he did not move.

After a moment, Bardo returned to his task. He honestly did not know what to make of Rai-he had never seen a child this wary, this cautious; from his admittedly limited experience with them, most children simply bounced up to you and started babbling.

When he heard the boy move, he felt almost disappointed. He had been sure Rai would-

The first step of the porch creaked. He glanced up in surprise just as Rai sat down more than an arm's length away, eyeing Bardo with no small amount of distrust, but also curiosity. His fluffy tail was wrapped around his knees.

Any kind of talk would most likely send the boy skittering away, so Bardo simply went back to his work.

"How many do you have?"

The voice startled him so badly that he almost ended up cutting himself on the blade. He turned to stare at Rai, whose eyes were wandering from the sword in his lap to the dagger, lying next to its sheath between them. After a moment of staring stupidly at the kitten, Bardo managed to pull himself together enough to actually formulate an answer. "Oh... just those."

Rai nodded. Bardo waited to see if there would be more questions, but when nothing came, he picked up the whetstone again.

"Are you a hunter?"

This time around, the sound of the boy's voice did not surprise him quite as much. "You could say that..." he replied after a small pause. "...I hunt monsters."

Rai's eyes widened slightly. "Real monsters?"

"Hm, yes. People, too." He did not know why he felt the need to add that, but he had a feeling the boy would find out sooner or later, anyway.

A small hitch of breath. "Bad people?"

He nodded. "Yes, bad people."

"You kill them?"

"Heh," he reached up to scratch his neck. "I fight back if they're hell-bent on killing me..."

They sat in silence for a while, Rai going back to following his movements along the blade as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"It's got funny symbols on it," he eventually resumed their conversation.

Bardo chuckled. The kid was blunt, he had to give him that. It was kind of refreshing, talking to someone like that, even if the person in question was barely as tall as his sword. The boy had a way of looking at him that just affected him strangely-beneath that normally expressionless façade boiled a strange hunger, hot and all-consuming; hunger for what, Bardo was not sure, nor could he fathom what put it there, but it made him want to speak and make Rai talk to him in turn.

"Those are warding signs," he explained, tracing a finger over the markings on the flat of the blade. "They're supposed to repel evil spirits."

Rai wrinkled his nose.

"Yeah, sounds kinda funny, I'll admit. But some monsters don't like them, all the same." He lifted the blade slightly so that Rai could see it better.

"Look at this one here," he tapped a rosette-shaped symbol, etched into the metal in such a way that its many crisscrossing rays made it shine like a multi-faceted stone in the fading light.

Rai squinted when the sparkling reflection blinded him, but kept looking.

"See?" Bardo said, lowering the sword so it was not catching the light anymore. "Some monsters have very sensitive eyes. Those carvings can sometimes work to your advantage... if you know how to hold your sword, that is."

"And that one?" The boy pointed to another symbol further down, shaped like an ever-tightening spiral.

"Uhh, not sure." He had never been particularly interested in learning the intricacies of religious imagery, unless they benefited his line of work in some way. "Something about how life's an endless circle, I guess. But I don't think it does anything special."

At least, he had never heard anyone screaming, 'Keep the spiral of doom away!'

"Hmm," Rai said, tilting his head to the side. "Maybe it makes the monsters go all woogly?"

"Woogly...?" Bardo repeated, bewildered.

"Mm," the boy nodded. "Woogly." He waved his finger in a spiraling motion to illustrate, and Bardo could not hold back an amused snort.

"Maybe."

----

He could not explain for certain what had possessed him to buy the dagger, even to himself.

He had discovered it at a swordsmith's on a trip to Ransen, a broad-bladed, ornately carved weapon, the master's insignia stenciled into the metal close to the hilt. With a nod to the master, he had taken it from the display, weighing it in his hand. Despite its size, the dagger had felt light, well-balanced in his palm, perfect for executing a series of quick jabs.

It had been a nice weapon, certainly, but it was not like he needed it. Still, something had kept him from returning it to its proper place on the wall, and before he had known what he was doing, he had bought the dagger, and a sheath of strong black leather along with it.

He had kept wondering what was wrong with him even as he placed the items safely in his knapsack, but by the time he had walked halfway back to Setsura, he knew what he was going to do with the dagger.

The idea was as ludicrous as buying the thing in the first place, but once it had entered his mind, the memory of the small white-haired boy quietly admiring his swords refused to leave.

He expected to encounter Rai around the house, but it still took some time to find him perched in the branches of a tree, the white tail just barely peeping out among the equally white blossoms.

"Hey," Bardo called tentatively.

The reaction was instantaneous-the tail disappeared, and a split second later, a small dark-clad shadow dropped from the tree, landing securely on his feet.

Rai stood and cocked his head in greeting, regarding Bardo for a long moment. "You're late," he finally said, in a tone that implied neither resentment nor haughtiness, just a simple statement of fact.

"Eh," Bardo replied intelligently, reaching up to scratch his neck in vague embarrassment. "What do you know. So I am."

An uncomfortable pause ensued, during which Bardo tried to shove away the little voice that kept demanding he discuss this with Rika and Anri first, instead of doing it behind their backs. However, there was another part of him that wanted to keep it-even if not exactly a secret-between himself and the strange little boy he felt such kinship with.

Eventually, he sighed and set down the knapsack, crouching to dig out the present. Rai cocked his head to the other side, but did not come any closer, instead opting to watch from a distance.

Bardo glanced up. "C'mere. I've got something for you."

The boy still hesitated, but eventually stepped closer, slowly, warily, as if Bardo would leap up and strangle him if he made a wrong move. His ears perked when Bardo freed the leather sheath and held the weapon out to him. He stood there for a minute, eyeing Bardo intently, but making no move towards his outstretched hand.

"Go on, take it," Bardo urged.

There was no eagerness on Rai's face when he finally reached out with both hands and accepted the gift, but a kind of grave solemnity, his gaze never leaving the dagger as it changed hands.

He did not thank Bardo. He simply turned around and left.

Bardo knew, though, and the boy probably knew that he knew, that he had gone to acquaint himself with his new possession, and that he would likely need days to comprehend that the dagger was now his.

----

"You like swords, don't you, Rai?"

They were sitting on the front porch once again, as they had done so often over the past weeks, a pile of kitchen knives that did not really need sharpening sitting between them almost like an excuse. Rai was running a soft cloth over the flat of his dagger repetitively, despite the fact that it was quite clean.

The boy merely looked at him; it was not the first time that he had refused to answer a perfectly harmless question.

Bardo did not understand this behavior, as if the boy was afraid of being punished for the answer, but he understood the love for a good blade; the gleam in Rai's eyes when he was allowed to admire a weapon was easy enough to read.

He had thought long and hard about what he was going to say next. Once again, he was foregoing all rules of propriety by even considering the idea without asking for permission, but he had decided not to listen to the nagging little voice anymore. A part of him was childishly fond of the concept of keeping quiet about it, as if there was some sort of silent agreement between him and Rai to keep their friendship a secret.

He cleared his throat. "How would you like learning to use one?"

Apart from a slight widening of his eyes, Rai's expression stayed the same. Finally, he lowered his gaze. "Father says swords aren't for weaklings," he recited dully.

Bardo frowned, but found himself unwilling to contemplate the circumstances that would have made Anri say something like this, or could have made Rai take it so obviously personally.

"Well," he said blithely, "you won't have a problem with that, now will you."

----

Sometimes, Rai would move stiffly during training, seemingly unable to lift his arm enough to block, or pivot quickly enough to counter.

Sometimes, there would be dried blood on the back of Rai's shirt, hardly noticeable against the dark fabric.

Sometimes, after much lecturing and coaxing, Rai would let Bardo peel off the shirt to spread salve over a landscape of scrapes and bruises, vivid red and blue and green.

Often, Bardo wondered as to their cause, until he ran out of explanations.

Always, his questions were met with silence.

----

Anri had looked at him strangely when he had asked to take Rai hunting with him, but had eventually snorted his assent-"Do what you want"-in a manner that had made something in Bardo ache, deep down inside, and had made him glad that Rai had not been present when he had asked for permission.

"You don't want to know where we're going?" he asked his silent companion, who was keeping pace alongside him, taking ridiculously big steps with his small legs, but too proud to ask Bardo to slow down. Bardo inwardly rolled his eyes, and reminded himself to shorten his stride a bit.

Rai glanced up at him, and then shrugged, a look that clearly said he was humoring Bardo slipping across his face. "Where are we going?"

Bardo chuckled, "To the Roaring Falls."

The boy nodded, seemingly content with this information, even though he had never been to the place, and had probably never seen a waterfall.

"It's a beautiful spot," Bardo continued, not caring whether Rai wanted the explanation or not, "There are three waterfalls, a big one and two smaller ones, and they form a big lake at the bottom. We should be able to hear them soon, they make a lot of noise. The banks are overgrown with ferns and bushes-animals love the place. Gives them protection while they drink. We might find some nice rabbits there."

The pair of white ears perked at that.

"You gonna kill them with your swords?" Rai asked, eyes darting to the sword strapped to Bardo's back, and the dagger at his hip.

"Uh, yeah."

"Can I watch?"

"Heh, of course. I'm gonna teach you how to do it yourself," Bardo replied, pleased to notice that he was able to interest the boy in something. Rai seemed so incredibly passive most of the time, and rarely spoke much, but the two short sentences he had been able to tease out of him hinted at the carefully concealed eagerness beneath.

----

"If you skin them, make sure you make one long cut across the belly. Then you can peel off the fur, no problem. If it's undamaged, it sells for a higher price."

Rai, who was sitting on a fallen log across from him, one leg drawn to his chest, cheek pillowed on the knee, nodded. It had taken the boy weeks to adopt a relaxed stance around Bardo, but he still took care not to sit within arm's reach. He looked tired, but did not take his eyes off Bardo as he skinned one of the rabbits, silently absorbing the information. It was probably a lot to take in, Bardo thought, on top of the long walk here and the excitement of the hunt; he ought to stop teaching soon.

They had caught three rabbits-not bad for one morning-and Rai had been a delight to teach; most children were difficult to calm down and keep still, but Rai lay in wait motionlessly, like a born hunter, and Bardo was sure that none of what he had said would require repetition.

Next time, he would let Rai try for himself, he thought, and inwardly laughed at himself when he realized that he was probably more excited than the kid at the prospect.

"Oh, here."

He pulled out the small piece of rabbit liver, and cut it in two halves, holding one out to Rai. The boy unfurled himself from his position on the log to reach for the proffered meat, and sniffed it curiously.

Bardo put his own piece in his mouth, chewing slowly. "Go on, try it. 'S good for your blood. Might taste a bit weird at first, though."

"It's squishy," Rai observed, squeezing the liver between his fingers. "And warm."

"Hm. It's because all bodies are warm inside."

The ears perked. "All?"

"Mhm."

"Mine too?"

"Sure, yours too," Bardo replied, amused at the boy's morbid curiosity.

Rai gave the liver an experimental lick, before putting it in his mouth and chewing.

"And?"

Swallowing, Rai wrinkled his nose. "Weird."

Bardo grinned. "Told you. You'll get used to it."

Silence descended as Bardo finished cleaning the rabbit and putting it on a makeshift spit. He was in the middle of showing Rai how to make a fire when something caught his eye on the other side of the lake.

The underbrush on the opposite bank moved, and then parted to reveal a magnificent stag, coming to drink. Noticing his attention, Rai immediately went still, and together they watched as the animal hesitated, first looking left, then right, ears flicking to catch any sound, before stepping to the water's edge and cautiously lowering its head.

Suddenly, a bird trilled shrilly in the quiet forest, and the stag's head swiveled back up, turning to look for the source of the noise. It stomped its hooves, visibly uncomfortable, and finally decided that it was better to be safe than sorry-a single graceful leap carrying it back into the underbrush.

After a moment, Bardo hummed, turning back to the task at hand. "Don't see something like that every day."

Rai was still staring at the spot where the stag had disappeared. "It was big."

"Still young, though."

Rai turned to regard him. "Could you kill it?"

"It would be easier with a bow."

"But you could?"

"Uh, probably."

An appreciative nod. "Cool."

And that, so it seemed, was that.

----

A week later found them in the forests north of Setsura, stalking quietly through the thick undergrowth. From time to time, Bardo risked a glance over his shoulder at the kitten skulking along in his shadow. Rai moved soundlessly, easily, but his brows were furrowed in concentration, his right hand clenched so tightly around the dagger that his knuckles were turning white. He had been that way ever since they had met up-Bardo had never seen him so focused, so intense. And while he was happy that Rai was paying attention, the boy was behaving as if this were some kind of test he had to pass... in a way, Bardo had hoped they would be having fun.

A soft rustling noise pulled his attention away from the kitten at his side. Rai had obviously heard it as well, because he stopped to listen closer.

Bardo signaled him to follow quietly, and crept to a line of blackberry bushes marking the edge of a small clearing. Peering through a hole in the thicket, he caught sight of a nice, big hare, hopping around and lowering its head to chew at the moss at intervals. Leaning back, he gave Rai a little nudge, urging him to take a look at their prey. Rai crawled forward, peering through the branches, tail stiffening and bristling in anticipation.

Bardo looked around. A few yards away, there was a gap in the bushes large enough to slip through. Now they only needed to get there without alerting the rabbit-

Rai leapt.

Unmindful of the thorns, he crashed through the thicket, charging at the animal. For a split second, the rabbit seemed frozen, before it broke into a run, heading for the protection of the undergrowth.

"Rai!"

The rabbit slipped into the thorny bushes, Rai following closely at its heels.

"Rai! ...Damn it!" Bardo cursed, edging through the thicket and jogging after them. Impatient reckless boy, hadn't he taught him better than that?!

Then, he realized what he was thinking, and shook his head at himself. He was thinking of Rai like an adult, when he was still so young. Of course he would lose his patience. Of course he would act without thinking. He should have said something. He had noticed that Rai was feeling under pressure...

And what was the worst that could happen, anyway? He would just have to bandage a few scrapes and console a disappointed kitten, that was all.

Past a line of trees, he could already see the small form kneeling on the ground, having apparently given up on the chase. But as he drew closer, he could see a brown lump on the ground in front of him, the hilt of the dagger sticking out of it.

Could it be...?

Rai did not move, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. Then, he slowly lifted his hands to stare at them, the palms glistening darkly with freshly spilled blood.

Damn, this was not good, if he had the boy shocked at his first kill...

Bardo drew closer slowly, trying to formulate something that would draw Rai out of it, comfort as well as mentally steel him. He should have thought of that first, shouldn't he? But Rai had seemed so at ease, downright fascinated with killing, that he had not even thought...

Without warning, Rai lifted both hands to his face, smearing his cheeks with rabbit blood.

Confused and slightly appalled, Bardo opened his mouth to call to him... and froze.

Never, not in all the time he had known him, had he seen Rai smile. He had kept trying to tease a smile out of him, wondering what it would look like to see it transform that normally impassive face, wondering what it would take to see Rai happy...

The small, joyful smile now lighting up Rai's blood-streaked face was as sweet as anything he had imagined-if only it had not been for those horribly vacant eyes.

- TBC -

----

A/N:
- Many, many thanks to all the people who supported me through all six months of this. You know who you are. Without you, this would not have been possible. ♥
- No rabbits were harmed during the writing of this fic.
- Bardo's real name is "Sheriru", which the official merchandise romanizes "Cheryl". So Bardo = Cheryl. XDDDD
- If you can figure out the secret behind Rai's parent's names, you win a cookie.
- Yep. This is the dagger.
- Ignore the Bible allusions of the quote. I picked it because it fit the theme, long before sexual_ennui alerted me to the reference. XD
- My thoughts on why Rai's parents hate him are complicated - I reasoned that no mother would normally behave coldly towards her child if the child's father were abusing it, so I thought that they might blame Rai for something that totally isn't his fault. So instead of being happy with the one healthy child they do have, they resent him as the cause of why they can't have more children. It has happened before.

C&C is most welcome. *bows and exits*

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