Fic: Yen, 1/12

[kalimyre]

Yen

By kalimyre

Pairing: Kensei/Hiro, Adam/Hiro

Rating: Adult

Summary: In which the fairy tale does have a happy ending, but not the one you were expecting.

Notes: Thank you to my fabulous betas: powered_otaku, who fixed all my feudal Japan references, and soulpeddler, who snared my continuity gaps and liked the “whole light bondage thing.”

~~~

Yen - 1. coin and monetary unit of Japan 2. a desire or craving, to have a craving, yearn 3. sharp desire, hunger

~~~

Since discovering his power, Hiro had seen many things which had forced him to accept the world was not always as he wanted it to be, but nothing had done so with as much breathtaking force as what he saw one sunlit late morning in feudal Japan.

It was a hot day for spring, enough to make his loose robe cling to his back as he walked down the dirt road through town. His hair was gritty and stuck to his forehead in pieces, his back was sore from sleeping on the ground, and his perpetually blurred vision was giving him the same headache it usually did. Most of the time Hiro felt a certain quiet elation at actually being in the world of his fairytales, but sometimes he really missed his own time. And showers. Especially showers.

And of course, Kensei had to choose today to be nowhere to be found. They had important missions to complete, there was still so much to do and if Kensei was off somewhere getting drunk again, Hiro was going to... well, probably give him a disappointed look and do nothing. But he wouldn’t be happy about it. Sometimes he had the unpleasant suspicion that Kensei was taking on all these quests just to humor him. A hero needed to take his duty seriously.

“Excuse me,” he said to a village woman filling a jug at the well. “Have you seen Takezo Kensei?”

She gave him a somewhat startled glance, then looked down, avoiding his eyes, and he bowed quickly. He kept forgetting how much more rigid social conduct was in this time. She softened under his hopeful smile and pointed up the road. “In the cook house.”

“Thank you,” Hiro said over his shoulder, already hurrying off. The cook house, of course. Where the sake was.

Hiro nearly pushed the door open and strode in, ready to scold his childhood hero once again, but he froze just on the threshold when he heard Kensei’s voice give a faintly pained grunt. Lining one eye up with a crack in the door jamb, he peeked in.

The cook house was dim and stacked with bushels of grain and vegetables. Strips of dried meats hung from the rafters between bundles of dried herbs, and there was a low table in the center of the room. Perched on the edge of the table were Kensei and a village man Hiro didn’t recognize.

At first he thought they were fighting, and winced at the thought of how angry the villagers would be with Kensei. Again. But then they turned and a strip of light slanting through the poorly hewn wall caught the sheen of Kensei’s back. Hiro’s first thought was, but where is his shirt? Followed by, and his pants?

And then he understood all at once.

He stood rooted to the spot, face pressed against the rough wood, hands splayed against the wall at either side. They were quiet, but not silent. Kensei’s breathing was audible, catching every so often into a soft, muffled hum that Hiro realized was a bitten back moan. The other man’s hands clutched Kensei’s waist, and as Hiro watched, one slid down and Kensei tilted to allow him access. Hiro swallowed hard.

Kensei tilted his head back, exposing his throat, and the other men took the obvious invitation and kissed him from his jaw to his collarbone. In the hot sun, Hiro shivered. His eyes widened as the two men struggled for position, each trying to pin the other beneath him. The villager grasped Kensei’s wrists and twisted, forcing him to turn face down over the table. Kensei gave a humorless chuckle and went with it, bending at the waist and oh, Hiro could see exactly where this was going.

The village man was a laborer of some kind, with hard, wide hands and Hiro winced when he saw one finger disappear, then two. Kensei stared ahead, expression distant and unreadable. He allowed it for a couple minutes, then spun and stood, and the man gave a startled grunt. Kensei backed him against a wall and pinned his shoulders there with both hands, then put his mouth to the man’s neck in what started as a bite and softened to a kiss. Their hips came together, thrusting roughly, the man with his eyes closed and Kensei gazing at the wall over his shoulder.

Hiro licked his lips in an unconscious imitation of Kensei, and shuddered when he dug his fingers into the villager’s shoulders, all the muscles in his arms standing out in sharp relief. Hiro’s hands were numb, his skin flushed with heat from the tips of his ears to low in his belly, and some distant, responsible part of himself kept telling him to stop hyperventilating or he would pass out. Another part, louder, told him to stop watching, to just turn and walk away because this was foolish and could not end well and what if he got caught?

And Hiro ignored them both and stayed rooted to the spot as the men inside moved faster. The village man was muttering something now, too low to make out, but it seemed like encouragement or demands. Kensei closed his eyes, and a muscle twitched in his jaw as he gasped through clenched teeth. The man tried to turn them, to put Kensei’s face against the wall, but Kensei would have none of it and turned them right back, thumping the man’s head against the wall with a flashed glance of warning that made Hiro’s skin prickle into goose bumps all the way down his back.

Kensei bit again at the end, hard enough to leave a pale, perfect imprint of teeth on the man’s shoulder. The man gave a strangled cry and bucked against him, and Kensei gripped his hips and yanked him impossibly closer and the rest was very quick. They slumped together against the wall for a moment, then Kensei pushed away, picking up clothes from a shadowed corner and tossing them at the man. He dressed quickly, mechanically, while the man stood with his clothing clutched to his chest, looking dazed.

“Get dressed,” Kensei said in his oddly accented Japanese. He didn’t look up, and as he finished putting his shoes on it finally dawned on Hiro that it was over, that Kensei would be walking out the door that Hiro was standing behind any moment now, and that being found standing there would be a very bad thing.

And what would happen, if he stood there? If he didn’t move? Kensei would be right in front of him. Inches apart, close enough to smell him, to hear him breathe. He’d have to walk past him. Push past him in the narrow doorway. Right up close.

Kensei stood, not sparing a glance for the villager, and Hiro turned and fled.

~~~

It was nearly what would have been tea time, back home, when it occurred to Kensei that Hiro hadn’t tracked him down to pester him about whatever heroic quest he was supposed to be conquering today. It was an indication of how strange his life had become lately that this actually seemed wrong. He considered shrugging it off and looking for something to drink and a place to take an afternoon nap, but of course that would make Hiro give him that look. Yet another indication of how strange his life had become-he didn’t want that to happen.

Finding Hiro was easy; the man was sitting by the side of the road, one arm slung over the edge of the horse trough, staring into the distance with such a miserable expression that Kensei walked a little faster to reach him. What Hiro had been doing by the trough was quite clear. His robe was soaked all the way down his chest, and his hair stuck up in damp, disheveled spikes. He didn’t look up as Kensei approached, clearly lost some place in his mind. His default state, Kensei thought, smiling.

“Too hot for you, carp?” he asked.

Hiro started and shot to his feet, looking guilty. “Yes,” he said, then shook his head. “I mean....” He frowned, shifted his weight back and forth a few times, and looked away.

“What?” Kensei said.

“Nothing. It’s late. We should have left hours ago.” Hiro turned and started toward the edge of town and their camp near the cherry grove, head down, watching his feet.

Kensei fell into step beside him. “Left for where? I was rather hoping you’d decided to take a day off.”

Hiro shot him a sideways glance, and his hands fidgeted nervously together. “All right,” he said. “We’ll go to camp. Plan for tomorrow.”

“Will tomorrow involve me being stabbed with swords? Because most of your plans do, and I must say, I’m not fond of it.”

Hiro shook his head and walked a little faster.

Kensei frowned and matched his pace. “Just because I can recover doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, you know.” That got no response, so he tried again. “So I take it tomorrow’s adventure will be more painful than usual?”

“No,” Hiro said. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? I thought you had my whole life mapped out for me,” Kensei replied, surprised to hear the bitter undertone that crept into his voice.

“I thought so too,” Hiro muttered.

“What does that mean?”

“Never mind.” Hiro tried to walk even faster, but Kensei caught him by the arm and stopped him. Hiro went very still, unable to meet Kensei’s eyes.

“All right, what? Am I destined to die next time or something?” Kensei asked.

“No!” Hiro said, finally looking at him. “No. I just...” He sighed and glanced around furtively, then led Kensei further into the trees, away from the road. “We have to talk.”

“Oh, good,” Kensei said, folding his arms. “That’s always fun.”

Hiro gave him an exasperated glance that was so much more like himself that Kensei grinned in return. “You belong with Yaeko,” Hiro began seriously. “She is destined to be your true love.”

“Yes, so you keep telling me.”

“That’s how it has to be,” Hiro insisted. “History demands it. In all the stories-”

“Oh, enough,” Kensei interrupted. “Those stories of yours demand quite a lot, do you know that?”

Hiro regarded him with real compassion. “I know. Being a hero is a heavy burden, but it is yours to carry. This is what you were born to do.”

“Where are you going with this, carp?”

“You can’t...” Hiro turned, lifting his hands and shaking them in frustration. “There are things you just cannot do! Things you cannot be. It will not work.”

“I’ve stopped drinking, haven’t I?” Kensei replied. Mostly, he added to himself. “I’m going on your quests. I’m courting the princess. What more do you want?”

“How can you fulfill your destiny with Yaeko if you’re...” Hiro bit his lip, shaking his head. “It’s all wrong. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

Kensei scrubbed a hand over his face, asking some deity he didn’t particularly believe in for patience. “Would you please stop talking in riddles?”

Hiro spun and looked up at him, as close to angry as Kensei had ever seen him. “I saw you! And you can’t! You can’t do that, it will ruin everything. You are Takezo Kensei. You have to be.”

Kensei just shook his head, baffled. “What?”

“I saw you,” Hiro said again. He took a deep breath and then, softly, “In the cook house, this morning. I saw what you did. What you both did.”

Kensei stiffened, feeling his hands curl into fists and that same old sick feeling in his gut. Here it was, then. Another friend who would turn away from him in disgust when they found out what he was. “So you were spying on me? Going to run off and report me? I suppose they can try the old English cure of hanging, but I’m not sure it’ll take.”

“No!” Hiro said, eyes wide and horrified. “No, I would never-of course not! That’s not why... can’t you see how it changes everything? How can you love Yaeko if that is not your nature?”

Kensei stared at him. “You’re... that’s what you’re worried about? Yaeko? You do understand that my... ‘nature’ is a crime, don’t you?”

“Not in Japan,” Hiro said, waving dismissively. “And besides, that doesn’t matter.”

With an incredulous laugh, Kensei ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a long moment. “Doesn’t matter. Right.”

“It’s different in the future,” Hiro said. “It’s not so unusual then. But that’s not what’s important.”

“Wait, what?” Kensei leaned close, gripping Hiro’s shoulders and forcing the smaller man to meet his eyes. “So you don’t...”

“Don’t what?”

Kensei stepped back, looking away. “You know. Hate me,” he said with a small shrug. “Most do when they find out. Why else do you think I left England?”

“No!” Hiro said, “Of course not. It’s just unexpected.” And he sounded so earnest and worried that Kensei found himself smiling without meaning to.

“Well,” he said. “You do keep surprising me.”

“You too,” Hiro replied, wryly. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to... I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Kensei sighed and leaned back against a tree. “I know the feeling. So now that you know, now what? I mean, Yaeko is a nice girl, but it’s not going to work out. And it’s not fair to her,” he added, knowing that would convince Hiro more than anything else.

“No, it isn’t,” Hiro agreed. He cast Kensei a hopeful look. “Are you sure you’re really...”

“What? A deviant? A sodomite? Take your pick, I’ve heard them all,” Kensei replied sharply.

Hiro flinched and bit his lip, shaking his head. “In my time, it’s called being gay.”

Kensei gave a humorless laugh. “That makes no sense. I can assure you that moments of happiness for those like me are few and far between.”

“It doesn’t mean happy anymore then,” Hiro explained. “I mean, it does, but that’s not all it means. It’s complicated. But are you sure that’s who you really are? Maybe you’re just confused. Maybe, if you spend more time with Yaeko...”

“Confused?” Kensei gave him a long, meaningful glance. “You saw me this morning. Did I look like I wasn’t sure what I wanted?”

Hiro shuffled his feet, staring down, and Kensei saw his face flush red. “No,” Hiro murmured.

“I know who I am,” Kensei said. “Are you confused?”

Hiro looked up quickly, eyes wide, mouth in that perfect round circle that reminded Kensei so much of a fish. “I... what?” he said, blinking rapidly.

“Why were you watching me?” Kensei pressed, suddenly sure he was on to something.

“I’m sorry,” Hiro mumbled. “I didn’t mean to. I just...” He tugged uneasily at his robe, casting a guilty glance from under his eyelashes.

“Just what, carp? Just couldn’t look away?”

Hiro shook his head, but said nothing, his throat working as he swallowed. He turned to walk away but Kensei caught him by the wrist, curling around him in a tight grip. He was always fascinated by the way Hiro’s skin felt, by his soft hands. In this world of hard, physical labor and rough combat, such softness was rare indeed. Beneath his fingertips he could feel Hiro’s pulse, rabbit quick, and the hand trembled in his own.

Kensei turned Hiro’s hand in his, and ran the ball of his thumb in slow strokes over the pale, delicate tracery of veins on the inside of Hiro’s wrist. “Did it ever occur to you,” he began softly, “that your precious books might have got it wrong? It is just a story, after all. A fairy tale.”

He moved closer, pulling Hiro against his side, breathing words into his ear. This close, he could see Hiro shiver, see the fine, soft hair on the back of his neck stand up as his skin reacted to the touch. “Maybe,” he whispered, “something was lost in translation.”

Hiro made a low sound in his throat and turned slightly, his hair brushing Kensei’s cheek. “Please,” he said.

“You only had to ask,” Kensei replied, pressing his lips to Hiro’s temple in a soft, chaste kiss. He could feel Hiro’s whole body shudder against his, but then Hiro broke away, taking two rapid, stumbling steps backward.

“Please,” Hiro said again. “Please, I can’t.”

And for the second time that day, Hiro ran.

~~~

When his feet fumbled beneath him for the third time, Hiro found himself in a heap on the ground, in the middle of a thick forest, completely lost. Squeezing his eyes shut, he thought, home, home, home but when he opened them again, he was still in the woods.

He leaned against a tree and looked up at the fading daylight, then scrubbed his hands over his face, unsurprised when they came away damp. “It’s all wrong,” he muttered. “This is not how the story goes.”

There had to be a way to fix it, to make everything right again, but Hiro couldn’t think of it. Couldn’t think of anything. He felt like his mind had been derailed all day, running in useless circles. He’d start down a path and then suddenly, he’d hear the sound that Kensei had made that morning, or see the look on his face, the way his eyes fell shut and his lips parted in pleasure.

Hiro shook his head as if he could remove the memories by force, but they kept coming back, and the low ache in his belly that had plagued him all day came back too. He thought of Kensei standing near him, his words tickling in Hiro’s ear, sending streaks of electricity down his spine, and he bit his lip, making a low, moaning sound.

With a furtive glance at his surroundings, Hiro snuck one hand down and pressed, whining again when it only made the ache sharper.

Not supposed to be this way, he thought again. He wanted to be the hero, his idol, Takezo Kensei. If he was a hero, his father would not be disappointed in him. A hero could have saved his mother. A hero could have saved Charlie. But he failed, again and again. A hero was supposed to love the princess, and defeat his enemies, show honor and nobility, and certainly not want... well.

Hiro tried again to teleport, with no destination in mind but away, as far away as he could get, and again, nothing. Gritting his teeth, he slunk a little closer to the ground and fumbled with the tie of his robe. He hated to do this, he felt guilty and weak every time and thus very rarely gave in, but it had to be done. He wouldn’t be able to think clearly until he took care of it.

His hand was cold against hot skin, and he drew a fast breath, his eyes sliding shut. His treacherous mind went to Kensei again, to his hand, curled around Hiro’s wrist, stroking his skin. The way Kensei had held the villager to the wall, the way it must have felt to have that mouth against his neck, the soft warmth of it and the scrape of stubble. It was all too easy to imagine, to feel, and Hiro twisted on the ground, crying out. He could never stay quiet, and he hated that lack of control.

But it was too late to stop now, he couldn’t if he tried and honestly, he didn’t want to. It was too great a relief to finally allow himself this one moment, this one lapse. His hand squeezed, slowed, stroked, and he could feel... oh, everything. The pleasure curling the base of his spine, spreading, the phantom touch of Kensei’s hands, and his mouth, and he imagined the sting of teeth, right where he most wanted it and he shuddered, clawing at the ground with his free hand. He thumped his head back against the tree and his vision swam and he cried out again, a name he didn’t want to admit he’d said, even to himself.

Then he curled on his side, wiped his hand guiltily on the grass, and closed his eyes. Away, away, farfarfar, he thought, and was gone.

~~~

Hiro didn’t come back to camp that night. Kensei came up with something reassuring to tell Yaeko, but didn’t believe a word of it. He thought she probably didn’t either, but he didn’t especially care. He sat on one side of the small fire, and she on the other, and without Hiro there to spread his enthusiasm and stories and plans, they had nothing to speak about.

“We should get an early night,” Kensei said eventually, standing.

Yaeko joined him, casting him a questioning glance. “Do you know where we are to find the rest of the map?”

Kensei nodded. “I’ll work it out with Hiro. Don’t worry.”

“But what if he does not return? We cannot wait, my father is in danger. Where will you go next?”

“I said don’t worry,” he snapped; then, seeing her face, he forced a smile. “Hiro will return.”

She gave him a measuring look, and Kensei sighed inwardly. She was too smart and too stubborn to accept vague promises and he knew it. “I will carry on myself if need be,” he said. “I don’t need Hiro.”

“As you say,” she replied. “I have faith in you.”

“Thank you.” He took her hand dutifully, brushing a kiss to her knuckles. “Good night.”

“Good night,” she replied, smiling up at him. He watched her retreating back until she slipped into her tent, and swallowed a pang of guilt. Before Hiro, he wouldn’t have cared about lying to her this way, but of course, before Hiro, he’d been a different man.

He sat by the dying fire, wondering what he would do if Hiro didn’t return. The man had become his driving force, his guide, and somehow, his friend. Yet another lie he’d told Yaeko-he did need Hiro. Kensei could move on, of course, find another place, another town. There was always a place to drink and people who would pay for him and his gift. He would survive. It was what he did best.

But Kensei didn’t want to merely survive anymore. He’d had a taste of being someone, of being a good man, and he wasn’t ready to let that go. So he sat through the night and waited, but Hiro never came.

In the morning, he picked a direction, told Yaeko it would be a long journey, and they broke camp and started moving. Yaeko asked what their destination was, and he told her they searched for the black tiger of the forest. It was a complete fabrication, of course, but it sounded like something Hiro would say, and she accepted it readily enough.

He kept the pace slow, stalling for time, and Yaeko’s glances grew increasingly doubtful. Eventually he told her to stay and make camp while he scouted ahead.

“I will come with you,” she said, chin thrust out stubbornly.

“No,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

“I am not afraid.”

“I know.” Kensei put his hands on her shoulders, looking at her earnestly. He was a little ashamed at how easily the lies came. “Please, I could not stand to lose you. Please stay here.”

She smiled and nodded. “Very well,” she said. “I will do as you ask.”

He thanked her and walked away, dropping to the ground beside a tree as soon as he was well out of sight. He put both hands over his face and shook his head, wishing he could use Hiro’s trick of disappearing.

Kensei stayed there until the day was gone and he started to shiver in the night air, and then he got to his feet and trudged back toward camp. He’d either have to tell her the truth, or run and let her think he’d been killed in battle. He wasn’t sure which would be worse.

He was steeling himself to confess as he approached the flickering firelight, but the words died in his throat when he saw who was sitting with her, poring over their piecework map.

“Hiro!” he said, catching himself short of running forward and sweeping the man up in a gleeful embrace.

Hiro looked up at him. “Kensei. Did you find anything on your search?” His voice was cold, flat, and Kensei felt it like a punch.

“Not yet,” he said, sinking down beside them. He shared a glance with Yaeko, and she was smiling merrily again, infused with the good spirits that Hiro seemed to spread everywhere he went. “Perhaps you have a suggestion of where to look next?” Kensei said, hoping Hiro would take the hint.

“Yes,” Hiro said. “I will show you tomorrow, at first light.”

“We have been searching for the black tiger of the forest,” Yaeko told him earnestly. Kensei watched Hiro’s face, which always gave away so much, and saw first confusion, then comprehension.

“Yes, of course,” Hiro said. “The black tiger. That is what his men call him, for his ferocity in battle.”

Yaeko nodded, wide-eyed. “It will surely be a difficult trial.”

“I am certain Takezo Kensei will prevail,” Hiro replied, meeting Kensei’s eyes for a long moment.

“Right, well,” Kensei said, standing up. “We should all get some rest.” He caught Hiro’s arm, holding him in place while Yaeko headed toward her tent. “A word, carp?”

Hiro pulled his arm away, but followed Kensei to the tree line. “The black tiger of the forest?” he asked once they were out of Yaeko’s hearing. “You lied to her?”

“You didn’t leave me much choice,” Kensei replied sharply. “What was I supposed to tell her?”

“You could have waited for me.” Hiro was looking up at him with something suspiciously close to a pout, and Kensei softened, smiling.

“Yaeko is not exactly patient,” he said. “And besides, I wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

Hiro nodded. “I am sorry. I had to... think, for a while.”

“I’m glad you returned,” Kensei said softly.

“A hero does not run away from his responsibility,” Hiro said, lifting his chin. “We must defeat White Beard, and save Japan.”

“And presuming we survive that?”

“What do you mean?”

Kensei put a hand on Hiro’s shoulder, drawing him closer. “What happens when the story is over? How does it end?”

A shadow passed over Hiro’s face and he turned away, shaking his head. “We can’t bring Yaeko tomorrow. You’ve traveled in the wrong direction. I’ll have to teleport us to the right place.”

“Hiro.” Kensei stopped him again, a hand beneath his chin, forcing his gaze up. He could feel Hiro’s throat move against his knuckles as he swallowed. “How does it end?”

“You die,” Hiro whispered. “For your love.”

Kensei pulled his hand away and took a step back. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” Hiro reached for him, but pulled his hand back and turned, walking quickly back to camp.

Kensei stood in the dark forest and wondered which love he would die for-the one the stories painted, or the one who kept running away from him.

~~~

Note--this story is actually finished, but is too big to post all at once. Will post updates regularly. Thank you for reading!

Now posted: Chapter Two