Fic: Yen, 2/12
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: As always, thank you to my fabulous betas: powered_otaku and soulpeddler.
Chapter One
~~~
Hiro told himself firmly that he would stay in control. He would make this right, and he would not give in to temptation. A hero was strong, a hero did not falter.
When he saw Kensei in the stream after breakfast, stripped to the waist, washing, he had to remind himself of that very, very hard.
“Hello, carp,” Kensei called out laconically. “Join me?” And he cast knowing eyes over Hiro, one hand running slowly down his chest.
“Stop this,” Hiro said. “I told you. I can’t.” And it was so hard to say that, so hard to keep his eyes on Kensei’s face only. Sometimes being a hero seemed very unfair.
“If I’ve got to die for my love,” Kensei replied, pinning Hiro in place with a fierce stare, “don’t you think I deserve a chance at actually having that love first?”
Hiro shook his head. “Your love is Yaeko.”
“We both know that’s not true,” Kensei said. “I’ve tried denial, believe me. Tried it for years. It doesn’t work out.”
Hiro stood, frozen, as Kensei approached him. He closed his eyes, feeling Kensei’s hand curl around the back of his neck, fingers carding through his hair. Fingertips traced trails of stream water down his throat and to his chest, and he couldn’t help leaning in, feeling the warmth of Kensei’s form so close, smelling the flat, mineral scent of the water, and under that, skin, salt slick and clean.
“No,” Hiro said, wrenching himself back. “No.” He gave Kensei a pleading glance. “Please, I can’t... I can’t keep stopping you.”
“Good,” Kensei said. This close, his eyes were strikingly blue, and so predatory.
Hiro decided that a hero knows when to retreat, and he scrambled back to camp. Hopefully when Kensei returned, he’d have more clothes on.
“Will Kensei fight the black tiger today?” Yaeko asked him.
“Yes,” Hiro said. “But he must go alone.”
Yaeko frowned. “If it is so dangerous, would we not be stronger together?”
“He seeks only to protect you,” Hiro replied. “I will take him to the battle, and he will return victorious.”
She smiled at him, nodding. “You are a true friend, Hiro. I want to thank you, for guiding us. I fear we would be lost without your help.”
Hiro returned the smile weakly. She was the swordsmith’s daughter, his fairytale princess. He’d loved her since he was a small boy, but now... nothing was as he’d imagined it to be.
Hiro was glad when Kensei approached, his armor both hiding his form and reminding Hiro why he was really here. He watched while Kensei said his goodbyes to Yaeko, painfully aware of the way she looked at him. At both of them. Hiro knew no matter how this ended, someone would be hurt, someone would suffer, and despite his power, he was trapped.
~~~
Hiro put his hand on Kensei’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and then they were standing on a rocky plateau and there was a biting wind that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Kensei’s hand covered his, and Hiro pulled away.
“This way,” he said, after looking around.
Kensei followed him, making a low whistle when they neared the edge of the clearing and he looked over the edge. “Wait,” he said, pulling Hiro close and slipping an arm around his waist. “Look.”
Hiro started to protest, but his voice faltered as he followed Kensei’s gaze. They were very high on the side of a mountain, and laid out beneath them was a wide valley, rich green forest at the base fading into sheer rock faces of the mountains around them. Shining at the bottom was a long, winding river, barely visible but for the places where it reflected the sun. The air was perfectly clear in a way the 20th century hadn’t seen for a long time, and Hiro thought he could see forever.
“Where are we?” Kensei asked.
“Mount Shirouma,” Hiro said absently. “I’ve seen pictures, but I didn’t know...”
“Amazing,” Kensei murmured. He turned, cupping a hand under Hiro’s jaw, meeting his eyes. “You could see the seven wonders of the world with your ability. We could see them. Don’t you realize what you have? Freedom.”
“I have responsibility, Kensei,” Hiro replied. “We both do. Come.”
He led them to a crack in the mountainside, deep but narrow enough at the mouth to mean they’d have to squeeze through sideways. Kensei balked at the sight of it, and Hiro waved him forward. “In there, you will find the tribe of Myojin-dake,” he said. “The stories say they are legion, fight like wild animals, and live in an impenetrable maze of tunnels, but fear the light. If you can get the scroll out into the open air, you will have won.”
“You didn’t say I’d be going in a cave,” Kensei argued. “Underground? How will I see? What if I get lost? Or there could be a cave-in, and I’d be buried. Even I couldn’t survive that.” He paused, and Hiro saw him pale. “Or I could survive, and I’d be buried alive.”
Hiro stared at him, once again surprised-Takezo Kensei was not supposed to be afraid of anything, but the man quite clearly was. “Kensei,” he said, going to him. “I will be with you.”
Kensei shook his head. “You can’t. You just said the place is overrun with this tribe, and it would only take one lucky blow to kill you.”
“You can do this,” Hiro insisted.
“Hiro...” Kensei sighed. “If it was a battle on open ground, I could do it. But underground, in the dark, in those small tunnels-I can feel the earth press down on me and I can’t breathe.”
“You’re claustrophobic,” Hiro realized, frowning.
“Cluster-what?”
“You have a fear of small spaces, of being trapped. Many people do,” Hiro explained. “But we must have this scroll. Without it we cannot complete the map, we cannot save Yaeko’s father or Japan. The stories say you do succeed in bringing it to the light.”
“Don’t suppose they say how, exactly?” Kensei asked, eying the cave opening nervously.
“Only that you do. You must overcome your fear,” Hiro said. “You are Takezo Kensei. You can do anything.”
“You still believe that, carp?” he asked. “Even now that you know the truth about me?”
“I do,” Hiro said. “I will be here waiting for you when you return.”
Kensei took a deep breath and quickly shed his armor; it was too bulky to wear in such a tight space. Then he accepted his sword and a lantern from Hiro, who allowed himself a reassuring squeeze of Kensei’s fingers. With a last look over his shoulder at the open sky, he slipped into the mountain.
~~~
After squirming through the crack for a few feet, the cave opened up and he could walk. The daylight at his back faded quickly though, and Kensei was soon blind. He fumbled with the lantern, swallowing the panic that wanted to claw from his chest when it didn’t light right away. The second time it worked and he swung it carefully, shuddering at the stone walls so close on all sides.
He could still see a sliver of light from outside and his urge to run toward it was enough to make his eyes water and his throat clench, but he knew if he did, Hiro would just turn him around and send him right back in.
Instead, he went deeper, keeping his right shoulder to the wall and his sword up, aware that the further he went, the more tunnels branched away. It would be funny, he thought, to survive the battle with the mountain tribe and get the scroll, only to get hopelessly lost on the way out. He was so busy thinking about that, he entirely forgot about the natives until they descended on him like a cloud, shrieking and chittering and pelting him with rocks.
After that it was a mad rush of running and stabbing and curling up, gasping in pain, hiding for the few short seconds it took him to heal, then fighting again. He lost track of how long it took, where he was, how many times he’d been killed, and focused on only two things-keeping his head on his shoulders and his hand in a death grip on the lantern.
The noise was terrible, echoing around him and making it impossible to tell where it came from or how many there were. He swung at anything that moved, and although his muscles could heal and his lost blood somehow replenished itself, his energy was not boundless. He began to stagger, to drop to a knee when a blow hit him particularly hard. Every time he got back to his feet, it was harder.
He ran his sword through two more, sliced through the knee of another and tried not to listen to his howls as he fell, and caught a fourth through the throat. Kensei rolled to the side, lay flat on his back for a moment so the gaping wound in his belly could heal, and then rolled again and swept the feet out from under another attacker.
There were three more he slammed into a wall, their heads making a dull, wet thump, and then a rock hit him hard in the side of the head and he went down again. A figure stood over him, and Kensei thrust his sword up one more time. The body landed on him and he shoved it aside in disgust, then rolled on his side and pushed himself up with trembling arms. They spilled him back down on his face and he lay still, trying to breathe.
It took him a few minutes to realize the worst of the noise had stopped, and nobody was attacking him. There were still cries and yells from all around, but they were the sounds of the injured and dying he’d left behind. Kensei curled up and put his hands over his ears, closed his eyes, and drifted.
When he came back to himself, the place was silent and the blood left on his skin and tattered clothing was dry. He fumbled for the lantern, said a quick prayer of thanks that it was still lit, and stood. Picking a direction and blocking out the sight of the bodies littering the ground, he began to walk.
Finding the scroll was part logic and part luck-he followed the tunnels as they got bigger, hoping for some big central room, and his theory turned out to be correct. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he saw it; it was a treasure hoard unlike anything he’d ever seen. Piles of coins and gems that caught the light from the lantern and threw it back in sparkling points of fire. Golden cups and chains, gleaming silver, polished sculptures of stone. And there, almost forgotten in a corner, the dull paper edge of a scroll.
Kensei snatched it up, holding it to his chest for a moment and slumping against the wall. He considered the piles of riches and their glittering allure, and he reached a hand out to take, but stopped when he saw the dried blood in the creases of his knuckles. He’d killed so many today, and this was their treasure. He had no right to steal it.
So he turned his back on the treasure, and the sting of it was soothed by knowing that Hiro would be proud of his choice.
He tried to find his way out the same way he’d gone in, by seeking out the tunnels as they got smaller, but it didn’t work the same way. He kept running into dead ends, and one tight passage he tried to squeeze through caught him on an outcropping of rock and for several long, panicked seconds he couldn’t move at all. He shoved through and stood, shaking, waiting for the skin scraped off his back to heal.
When he looked up again and realized he’d just hit another dead end and now he had to go back through that same passage, he had to squeeze his eyes shut and fight back the tears of frustration and exhaustion that sprang so readily to the surface. Then, gritting his teeth, he pushed back through and trudged on.
At first he thought the light was a hallucination, or wishful thinking-the lantern was beginning to fade and the dark was creeping in with dreadful purpose. It was the weak, gray light of dawn, and he didn’t believe it until he felt the touch of fresh air on his skin. He broke into a run, scrabbling frantically at the crack in the rock until he remembered he had to turn sideways, and then he fell through into the day.
The air was cold and sharp, the ground hard beneath him, but the sight of the pale morning sky made him finally lose the fight and his eyes stung. He heard running footsteps, and then Hiro’s relieved, joyful voice. “Kensei! You did it!”
Reaching a hand up, Kensei yanked Hiro down beside him, the other man falling with a surprised yelp. Kensei rolled to his side, wrapped his arms around the comforting warmth and softness of Hiro’s body, buried his face in Hiro’s chest, and refused to let go.
~~~
Kensei had been gone for a full day and night, and Hiro had moved past worry and well into panic by the time the man had finally come stumbling out of the cave. Hiro caught his breath at the sight of him. He was filthy, covered in dirt and something that was very clearly blood, milk pale and staggering, his clothes nearly ripped to shreds.
Kensei collapsed on his back and stared up at the sky, and Hiro ran to him, calling out his name. He was shocked when a sharp tug brought him down, and then Kensei was wrapped around him, his whole body shaking, arms so tight Hiro could barely breathe.
“Kensei?” he said, patting his back uncertainly. “It is all right. You did it!”
That got no response, and when Hiro tried to wriggle away the grip only got tighter, so he stopped resisting. The other man relaxed by slow degrees, his shuddering gasps easing into soft breathing, his arms growing lax around Hiro’s back. Hiro stroked his fingertips along Kensei’s sides and back, feeling his perfectly smooth, unmarked skin between the gaping tears in his clothes.
“Was it...” Hiro began, then trailed off. He wanted to ask if it had been bad, but clearly it had been. He wasn’t sure if Kensei’s reaction was from his claustrophobia or from what must have been a terrible battle, and judging by the amount of blood, maybe it was better he didn’t know the details.
Instead, he closed his eyes, concentrated, and suddenly they were lying in soft sand and the air was warm and dry, a balm after the chill, thin air of the mountain. Kensei felt the difference and lifted his head warily, looking around. “Where have you brought us?”
“Very far away,” Hiro said. “This is where I went, after... when I had to get away. It’s Las Vegas.” He chuckled softly, “Or, it will be, one day. Right now it is just the desert, but I know where there is water, not far from here.”
He stood and offered a hand to Kensei, who took it and refused to let it go. Hiro led them across scrubby desert flatland, and soon a shimmer of water was visible, growing to a wide, low pond surrounded by brush as they got closer. Kensei knelt at the edge and drank greedily, dipping his whole face in the water and scrubbing his fingers through his hair.
“You should wash,” Hiro said. “Yaeko should not see you like this.”
Kensei looked down at himself and nodded. “Not pretty, is it?”
Hiro said nothing, watching as Kensei stripped off the remains of his clothes, pinning the scroll to the ground beneath his discarded sandals. His pale skin was golden in the sun, broad shoulders tapering to a waist that his hands would fit perfectly, and Hiro swallowed nervously when Kensei caught him watching.
Kensei stepped toward the water and looked back at him, reaching out one hand, beckoning.
“You know I can’t.”
“Hiro,” Kensei said softly. “Please. You cannot imagine what it was like in that cave. What I did there. I just. I need this.”
Hiro could have resisted seduction, could have remained firm against temptation, but a plea for help had always been his undoing. He closed his eyes and succumbed, fumbling with his clothes until he felt Kensei’s hands doing it for him. He stood still, the sun warm on his shoulders, the ground hot and foreign beneath his feet, the world perfectly silent but for their breathing, and he felt very far from home.
His robe slipped away from his shoulders, and Hiro kept his eyes closed, allowing Kensei to lead him to the spring. The water was cool and wonderful, slipping over his skin, and he let himself slide below the surface, startled and gasping for air when Kensei pulled him back up. Maybe this is a dream, Hiro thought, and then: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, and he laughed.
“Something funny, carp?” Kensei asked, his voice very close to Hiro’s ear, and Hiro looked at him, smiling.
“It is hard to explain,” he replied. “Are you all right now?”
“Getting there,” Kensei said, and kissed him.
The shock of it, the heat and pressure and reality, wiped out all possibility that this was a dream. For a moment Hiro panicked because this couldn’t happen, this was not supposed to happen and he would break history if he didn’t stop right now--but then Kensei ran his fingers through Hiro’s hair, holding him closer and Hiro could feel their legs wind together in the water, the warmth of Kensei’s skin and he stopped fighting it.
Kensei was moving fast, his hands clutching at Hiro’s skin, clinging to him, his breath rasping in Hiro’s ear as kisses were trailed down his throat. Hiro held his face in both hands, gentling the kisses, then pressed his lips to each of Kensei’s eyes, tasting salt. “How did you know?” Hiro asked. “How did you know I would want this?”
“A man knows his own kind,” Kensei replied. “And I saw the way you looked at me.”
Hiro ducked his head, feeling a blush heat his skin. Kensei chuckled and lifted his chin with a fingertip, kissing him again. The tip of his tongue darted out, sliding over Hiro’s bottom lip and Hiro shivered, his eyes falling shut. Kensei’s hand stroked down his back, fingernails leaving trails of sparking heat, then cupped his ass and pulled them into contact. Hiro moaned and dug his fingers into Kensei’s arms, twisting in the water, wanting more.
“Have you done this before?” Kensei whispered in his ear, then licked the rim, making Hiro whimper low in his throat. “Have you lain with another man?”
“No,” Hiro said, “I... I didn’t know.”
“Good,” Kensei said, and bit him where his neck curved into his shoulder, soothing the sting with a kiss. Hiro gasped when he felt Kensei’s hand between his legs, stroking him in a slow, maddening, perfect slide, and Kensei’s mouth was busy at his neck again, nibbling under his jaw, kissing him in the soft, vulnerable place where the blood ran just beneath the surface.
Hiro thought distantly that he should probably be doing something in return, that he should be touching Kensei, too, but he was too overwhelmed to do anything but cry out in delight as Kensei found more ways to wring sensation from him. Kensei held him by the hips and turned him and Hiro ran his hands greedily over Kensei’s back, soaking up the feel of his skin.
It was a momentary unfamiliar shock to feel Kensei, hot and hard and pressing against his belly, but then they turned again and Hiro realized he could press right back, that every time he moved Kensei made a soft, breathless little “oh” sound, and that he’d never in his life felt anything like this.
Hiro pushed with his feet and rose up and Kensei caught him, supporting him easily, both of them light in the water. They kissed again, Kensei mumbling words into Hiro’s mouth, catching the tip of his tongue and sucking on it, then breaking away to kiss his neck again, to mouth the line of his collarbone.
Hiro kept closing his eyes because the world was impossibly bright, the sun glinting off the sand and the water and their skin, and when he opened them again Kensei was staring at him. “What I did today,” Kensei began, “I never could have done that before I met you. You make me...”
“What?”
Kensei shook his head. “I don’t know if I can explain it. But you make me better. You give me faith.”
Hiro smiled and kissed the corners of Kensei’s mouth, stroking a thumb over his cheek. “I believe in you. You’ve been my hero my whole life, how could I not?”
Kensei closed his eyes and pulled him close, pressing his face into Hiro’s neck. Hiro stroked the back of his head, then shuddered when Kensei began rocking them again, a delicious friction that built up and up until Hiro couldn’t keep silent anymore and cried out. He felt Kensei smile against his skin and just like that, he realized he didn’t have to try and control it anymore.
He laughed and kissed Kensei and tilted closer, shifting so he could feel the skin of Kensei’s belly pressing against his whole length and his eyes went wide when he realized the words Kensei was mouthing against his shoulder.
“Kensei,” he breathed into the other man’s ear. “Me too.”
And Kensei shouted and his hips stuttered against Hiro’s, and Hiro could feel the jet of heat between them. He thrust up once more, twice, and then Kensei’s hand was there, cradling him, thumb stroking the head and Kensei murmuring, “Now, now, I want to feel it, now...”
Hiro threw his head back and let go, Kensei catching him and they sank low in the water, wrapped together, remembering to breathe.
“Well,” Kensei said after a moment. “This is new.”
“What?” Hiro mumbled, then opened his eyes and realized the drops of water they’d flung were still hanging in the air, the ripples in the surface were unmoving, and a whirl of dust by the shore was hanging, pristine, like the shape of wind. “Oh,” he said. “I stopped time.”
Kensei reached out a cautious hand and touched the surface, and the water parted around his hand normally, but once he removed his hand the indentation remained. He looked at Hiro uncertainly. “Does that usually happen?”
Hiro shrugged. “Maybe? Don’t know, I haven’t had my powers very long.”
“Ah.” Kensei looked around again and shivered. “Could you start everything up again? It’s a bit unsettling.”
Hiro laughed and closed his eyes, and the world rushed back to life, the wind stirring the sands and water dropping to the surface all around them. While his eyes were still closed, Kensei kissed him again, and smiled against his mouth. Hiro sighed and wrapped his arms around Kensei’s shoulders, resting their heads together.
“Thank you for this,” Kensei said. “For all of it.”
Hiro pulled back and looked up at him, and smiled sadly. “We have to go back soon,” he said. “Yaeko must be worried.”
Kensei nodded. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “About how I die at the end.”
Hiro frowned and shook his head. “Kensei, don’t.”
“No, hear me out, carp.” They walked out of the spring together, and sat on a flat rock, drying in the sun. “The story says I die for my love, right? To protect her.”
“Yes,” Hiro agreed cautiously. “The dragon demands her life, and you offer your own instead.”
“Right, very noble of me, I’m sure. But what if it doesn’t mean die in the literal sense? What if, instead, I give up my life here? Disappear, go somewhere far away, so that the enemies I’ve made on your mad quests don’t come after Yaeko. I could even let them think they’ve killed me. They can stab me through the heart, and I’ll lay there and bleed and be very convincingly dead, and then you will work your magic and we’ll be far away, never heard from again.”
Hiro sat up straight, staring at him. “That... that could work! And you would do that?”
“Well look at my choices,” Kensei replied. “Live a new life somewhere far away with you, or die. It’s not a difficult decision.”
“But Kensei, I must return to the future,” Hiro pointed out. “I cannot stay in this time forever.”
“Perfect,” Kensei said. “From what I’ve heard, I think I’ll like your future.”
“You want me to bring you with me? To my time?” Hiro asked incredulously.
“Why not?” Kensei replied. “I’m good at adapting to new places. I’ll fit right in.”
Hiro tried to imagine Takezo Kensei in the cubicle next to his, with his helmet beside him on the desk and his samurai sword propped against the filing cabinet. He gave a slightly hysterical chuckle and got up, going to his clothes. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said. “Right now we need to get this scroll back to Yaeko, and save Japan.”
Kensei sighed and reluctantly got dressed. He pulled Hiro close for one more kiss, then gave him a stern look. “Watch yourself once we get back to camp. You give too much away with your eyes.”
Hiro nodded solemnly, but knew he wouldn’t be able to maintain his composure for long. If what Kensei had suggested could actually happen-if they could defeat White Beard and save Japan and escape with Kensei’s life and history intact, if they could have a future... well. The excitement and hope felt like fire in his chest, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it.
They stopped at the mountain top for Kensei’s armor, which hid the worst of the damage to his clothes, and then they were back in the forest and walking to camp. Yaeko came running to greet them, flinging her arms around Kensei and exclaiming happily over the scroll.
She rolled out the map and matched the last piece to it, and they all sat back, realizing the time had come for the final battle. Kensei covered her hand with his and Hiro watched, the guilt rushing over him again. But that was how the story was supposed to go, he reminded himself. Yaeko was destined to lose her love. He just wished he didn’t feel like he was the one stealing it from her.
~~~
After the nightmare of the cave in the mountain, the final showdown with White Beard turned out to be anti-climactic. Sneaking into the camp was too easy, Kensei thought contemptuously. The men were complacent, sure in their superiority, careless. They found Yaeko’s father, and it would have been a simple rescue until he told them about the guns.
Kensei knew his way around a gun, but frankly, preferred a sword and a crossbow. Guns were unreliable and loud, and entirely too dependent on ammunition which could easily run out. Hiro was plainly horrified at the idea of so many guns in Japan, and Kensei had to stop himself from putting a hand on the other man’s back to steady him.
“This is how you save Japan,” Hiro told him earnestly and it still got to Kensei every time, that Hiro was so very sure he would save them, as if he’d never doubted it.
Things were going well until the escape, which turned out to be much harder than getting in had been. They scattered and ran, Kensei taking the swordsmith and Hiro running with Yaeko. Kensei took several arrows to the back as they fled, but his body pushed them back out and the swordsmith, facing ahead, didn’t notice. He managed to fight off their pursuers and those still able to stand straggled back to their camp, promising retribution.
The old man was panting to catch his breath, doubled over with his hands on his knees, but Kensei urged him onward. Hiro couldn’t take arrows the way he could, couldn’t take being hurt, and if he’d gotten this far only to lose him now...
He broke into a relieved grin when he saw Hiro and Yaeko in the clearing, but it faded as he got closer. Yaeko was staring at Hiro with dawning comprehension, and Hiro was looking miserable and guilty and Kensei had a sinking feeling he knew what had happened.
“Kensei!” Hiro said, turning to him with obvious relief. “You’re safe! The swordsmith?”
“He’s here,” Kensei said, gesturing behind him, and Yaeko ran to her father, holding him for a moment. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Hiro said, “but-”
“He has a power!” Yaeko said, pointing to Hiro. “He brought us here in an instant, from the battle. And it was he who saved me from the brigands.” At that, she cast an accusing glare at Kensei. “A deed that you claimed.”
“I’m sorry,” Hiro said, switching to English, “I had to or we would have been shot. She understood so fast! I didn’t think she would know it was me before, who saved her.”
“It’s not your fault, carp,” Kensei replied quickly. “I’ll handle this.” He turned to Yaeko, and gave a short bow. “I am sorry, my love,” he said. “Hiro does have a great gift, and he did save you that day. He allowed me to take credit because he knew my feelings for you, and he is a good and true friend. Please forgive me this lapse in judgment; I should have told you.”
She softened visibly, and he caught her father’s approving nod. Turning to Hiro, he added, “And thank you, for keeping the secret. I never could have come this far without you.”
Hiro beamed and bounced a little on the balls of his feet. “I am honored to help the great hero, Takezo Kensei,” he said. “But there is no time to lose. The guns must be destroyed.”
“Yes,” Kensei said. “It will not be safe for you here,” he told Yaeko. “Please take your father, and return to the village. We will meet you there once the guns have been destroyed, and White Beard’s camp is broken.”
Yaeko gave him a look which suggested he was not completely forgiven, but she did as he asked, riding with her father back toward Otsu.
When they were well out of sight, Kensei sagged in relief and pulled Hiro close, kissing him until the tight knot of tension in his belly unraveled. “You could have been killed,” he said, tilting Hiro’s face up to meet his eyes. “You’ve got to be more careful.”
“I am all right,” Hiro said, “you worry too much.” But his shy smile said he liked being worried about. “Come, I will take us straight to the guns.”
Kensei closed his eyes, feeling the strange airless rush that always came when Hiro traveled, and then they were in a low tent, surrounded by crates of guns and barrels of black powder. The two guards standing at the door were facing out, not in, and he took them both down quickly and quietly. Hiro was already pouring the black powder everywhere, and Kensei looked uneasily at the flickering lanterns.
“Foolish thing to have in a place like this,” he said, lifting one.
Hiro smiled at him. “It will make our task easy. Help me with the powder.”
Together they spread two barrels out, getting well coated in the dust themselves, and then Hiro took his hand. “Once it starts,” he said, “we will have to leave very fast. Make sure you don’t let go.”
Kensei nodded, swallowing. “I might be able to survive even this, but I’m not especially keen to find out.” Then he lifted a lantern and flung it, and it shattered against a tent post, splashing burning oil everywhere. The straw floor and black powder caught fast, cracking and popping noisily, and alarmed shouts came from outside. Kensei had time to smell the smoke, to feel the rush of heat roll over them in a thick wave, and then they were on the ridge over the camp, Hiro still holding tight to his hand.
The first explosion tore the tent apart, flinging debris high into the air, and they both flinched back instinctively. The blasts kept coming as each barrel of black powder exploded, and soon half the camp was on fire. Crashes and the smell of burning rose to them, along with the panicked cries of White Beard’s men, and Hiro turned away, closing his eyes.
Kensei stood behind him and wrapped his arms around Hiro’s chest, resting his chin on his shoulder. “It had to be done,” he said. “You defeated White Beard. You’ve saved Japan, Hiro.”
“You did that,” Hiro replied. “And history will remember you for it. It’s as it should be.”
Kensei took a deep breath. “Now it’s time to meet my martyrdom, I suppose.”
Hiro turned and nodded, a smile breaking through his bleak expression. “And then we disappear.”
They walked slowly back to town; Hiro could have gotten them there faster, of course, but it wouldn’t do to arrive before Yaeko and her father, or suddenly appear out of thin air in front of some villager. As it turned out it was good that they had walked, as they found Yaeko and her father halfway to the village, held at sword point. Kensei recognized the crest of White Beard they all wore, and nodded to himself. Here it was, then.
He drew his sword, ready to rush in dutifully and save her, when a man wearing full armor drew a knife and held it to her throat. “She dies,” he said, “if you take another step.”
Kensei froze, and Hiro did the same beside him. The man had a mask with a coiled golden dragon emblazoned across the top and his long, white beard was visible below it, touching the center of his chest. Hiro whispered, “The Dragon.”
“Takezo Kensei,” he said, “today you will pay for what you have stolen from me. My men say you cannot be defeated in battle, but I can take from you that which you hold most dear.”
“No,” Kensei said sharply, holding up his hands. Slowly, he dropped his sword and removed his armor, glad that Hiro had told him exactly what to say. He felt like he was reading in a play, but he said it anyway. “Take my heart, for that is where my love is.” And he walked forward, unarmed and helpless, and stood before the dragon.
“You offer your life for hers?” he asked.
“Yes,” Kensei said, “please.”
“It is an honorable choice,” the dragon said. “I will accept it.” And he pushed Yaeko away and drew his sword in a swift, fluid motion, and Kensei felt it go in, felt his body shudder with the impact. He fell to his knees and his vision darkened as his heart struggled to heal around the sword, and failed. He was aware of Yaeko crying out nearby, and he fell back, the tip of the sword catching on the ground beneath him and twisting painfully. He gasped once, saw the blue sky above him narrow to a point of light, and with the feeling of greeting an old, familiar friend, he died.
~~~
More to follow, thank you for reading!
Chapter Three
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: As always, thank you to my fabulous betas: powered_otaku and soulpeddler.
Chapter One
~~~
Hiro told himself firmly that he would stay in control. He would make this right, and he would not give in to temptation. A hero was strong, a hero did not falter.
When he saw Kensei in the stream after breakfast, stripped to the waist, washing, he had to remind himself of that very, very hard.
“Hello, carp,” Kensei called out laconically. “Join me?” And he cast knowing eyes over Hiro, one hand running slowly down his chest.
“Stop this,” Hiro said. “I told you. I can’t.” And it was so hard to say that, so hard to keep his eyes on Kensei’s face only. Sometimes being a hero seemed very unfair.
“If I’ve got to die for my love,” Kensei replied, pinning Hiro in place with a fierce stare, “don’t you think I deserve a chance at actually having that love first?”
Hiro shook his head. “Your love is Yaeko.”
“We both know that’s not true,” Kensei said. “I’ve tried denial, believe me. Tried it for years. It doesn’t work out.”
Hiro stood, frozen, as Kensei approached him. He closed his eyes, feeling Kensei’s hand curl around the back of his neck, fingers carding through his hair. Fingertips traced trails of stream water down his throat and to his chest, and he couldn’t help leaning in, feeling the warmth of Kensei’s form so close, smelling the flat, mineral scent of the water, and under that, skin, salt slick and clean.
“No,” Hiro said, wrenching himself back. “No.” He gave Kensei a pleading glance. “Please, I can’t... I can’t keep stopping you.”
“Good,” Kensei said. This close, his eyes were strikingly blue, and so predatory.
Hiro decided that a hero knows when to retreat, and he scrambled back to camp. Hopefully when Kensei returned, he’d have more clothes on.
“Will Kensei fight the black tiger today?” Yaeko asked him.
“Yes,” Hiro said. “But he must go alone.”
Yaeko frowned. “If it is so dangerous, would we not be stronger together?”
“He seeks only to protect you,” Hiro replied. “I will take him to the battle, and he will return victorious.”
She smiled at him, nodding. “You are a true friend, Hiro. I want to thank you, for guiding us. I fear we would be lost without your help.”
Hiro returned the smile weakly. She was the swordsmith’s daughter, his fairytale princess. He’d loved her since he was a small boy, but now... nothing was as he’d imagined it to be.
Hiro was glad when Kensei approached, his armor both hiding his form and reminding Hiro why he was really here. He watched while Kensei said his goodbyes to Yaeko, painfully aware of the way she looked at him. At both of them. Hiro knew no matter how this ended, someone would be hurt, someone would suffer, and despite his power, he was trapped.
~~~
Hiro put his hand on Kensei’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and then they were standing on a rocky plateau and there was a biting wind that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Kensei’s hand covered his, and Hiro pulled away.
“This way,” he said, after looking around.
Kensei followed him, making a low whistle when they neared the edge of the clearing and he looked over the edge. “Wait,” he said, pulling Hiro close and slipping an arm around his waist. “Look.”
Hiro started to protest, but his voice faltered as he followed Kensei’s gaze. They were very high on the side of a mountain, and laid out beneath them was a wide valley, rich green forest at the base fading into sheer rock faces of the mountains around them. Shining at the bottom was a long, winding river, barely visible but for the places where it reflected the sun. The air was perfectly clear in a way the 20th century hadn’t seen for a long time, and Hiro thought he could see forever.
“Where are we?” Kensei asked.
“Mount Shirouma,” Hiro said absently. “I’ve seen pictures, but I didn’t know...”
“Amazing,” Kensei murmured. He turned, cupping a hand under Hiro’s jaw, meeting his eyes. “You could see the seven wonders of the world with your ability. We could see them. Don’t you realize what you have? Freedom.”
“I have responsibility, Kensei,” Hiro replied. “We both do. Come.”
He led them to a crack in the mountainside, deep but narrow enough at the mouth to mean they’d have to squeeze through sideways. Kensei balked at the sight of it, and Hiro waved him forward. “In there, you will find the tribe of Myojin-dake,” he said. “The stories say they are legion, fight like wild animals, and live in an impenetrable maze of tunnels, but fear the light. If you can get the scroll out into the open air, you will have won.”
“You didn’t say I’d be going in a cave,” Kensei argued. “Underground? How will I see? What if I get lost? Or there could be a cave-in, and I’d be buried. Even I couldn’t survive that.” He paused, and Hiro saw him pale. “Or I could survive, and I’d be buried alive.”
Hiro stared at him, once again surprised-Takezo Kensei was not supposed to be afraid of anything, but the man quite clearly was. “Kensei,” he said, going to him. “I will be with you.”
Kensei shook his head. “You can’t. You just said the place is overrun with this tribe, and it would only take one lucky blow to kill you.”
“You can do this,” Hiro insisted.
“Hiro...” Kensei sighed. “If it was a battle on open ground, I could do it. But underground, in the dark, in those small tunnels-I can feel the earth press down on me and I can’t breathe.”
“You’re claustrophobic,” Hiro realized, frowning.
“Cluster-what?”
“You have a fear of small spaces, of being trapped. Many people do,” Hiro explained. “But we must have this scroll. Without it we cannot complete the map, we cannot save Yaeko’s father or Japan. The stories say you do succeed in bringing it to the light.”
“Don’t suppose they say how, exactly?” Kensei asked, eying the cave opening nervously.
“Only that you do. You must overcome your fear,” Hiro said. “You are Takezo Kensei. You can do anything.”
“You still believe that, carp?” he asked. “Even now that you know the truth about me?”
“I do,” Hiro said. “I will be here waiting for you when you return.”
Kensei took a deep breath and quickly shed his armor; it was too bulky to wear in such a tight space. Then he accepted his sword and a lantern from Hiro, who allowed himself a reassuring squeeze of Kensei’s fingers. With a last look over his shoulder at the open sky, he slipped into the mountain.
~~~
After squirming through the crack for a few feet, the cave opened up and he could walk. The daylight at his back faded quickly though, and Kensei was soon blind. He fumbled with the lantern, swallowing the panic that wanted to claw from his chest when it didn’t light right away. The second time it worked and he swung it carefully, shuddering at the stone walls so close on all sides.
He could still see a sliver of light from outside and his urge to run toward it was enough to make his eyes water and his throat clench, but he knew if he did, Hiro would just turn him around and send him right back in.
Instead, he went deeper, keeping his right shoulder to the wall and his sword up, aware that the further he went, the more tunnels branched away. It would be funny, he thought, to survive the battle with the mountain tribe and get the scroll, only to get hopelessly lost on the way out. He was so busy thinking about that, he entirely forgot about the natives until they descended on him like a cloud, shrieking and chittering and pelting him with rocks.
After that it was a mad rush of running and stabbing and curling up, gasping in pain, hiding for the few short seconds it took him to heal, then fighting again. He lost track of how long it took, where he was, how many times he’d been killed, and focused on only two things-keeping his head on his shoulders and his hand in a death grip on the lantern.
The noise was terrible, echoing around him and making it impossible to tell where it came from or how many there were. He swung at anything that moved, and although his muscles could heal and his lost blood somehow replenished itself, his energy was not boundless. He began to stagger, to drop to a knee when a blow hit him particularly hard. Every time he got back to his feet, it was harder.
He ran his sword through two more, sliced through the knee of another and tried not to listen to his howls as he fell, and caught a fourth through the throat. Kensei rolled to the side, lay flat on his back for a moment so the gaping wound in his belly could heal, and then rolled again and swept the feet out from under another attacker.
There were three more he slammed into a wall, their heads making a dull, wet thump, and then a rock hit him hard in the side of the head and he went down again. A figure stood over him, and Kensei thrust his sword up one more time. The body landed on him and he shoved it aside in disgust, then rolled on his side and pushed himself up with trembling arms. They spilled him back down on his face and he lay still, trying to breathe.
It took him a few minutes to realize the worst of the noise had stopped, and nobody was attacking him. There were still cries and yells from all around, but they were the sounds of the injured and dying he’d left behind. Kensei curled up and put his hands over his ears, closed his eyes, and drifted.
When he came back to himself, the place was silent and the blood left on his skin and tattered clothing was dry. He fumbled for the lantern, said a quick prayer of thanks that it was still lit, and stood. Picking a direction and blocking out the sight of the bodies littering the ground, he began to walk.
Finding the scroll was part logic and part luck-he followed the tunnels as they got bigger, hoping for some big central room, and his theory turned out to be correct. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he saw it; it was a treasure hoard unlike anything he’d ever seen. Piles of coins and gems that caught the light from the lantern and threw it back in sparkling points of fire. Golden cups and chains, gleaming silver, polished sculptures of stone. And there, almost forgotten in a corner, the dull paper edge of a scroll.
Kensei snatched it up, holding it to his chest for a moment and slumping against the wall. He considered the piles of riches and their glittering allure, and he reached a hand out to take, but stopped when he saw the dried blood in the creases of his knuckles. He’d killed so many today, and this was their treasure. He had no right to steal it.
So he turned his back on the treasure, and the sting of it was soothed by knowing that Hiro would be proud of his choice.
He tried to find his way out the same way he’d gone in, by seeking out the tunnels as they got smaller, but it didn’t work the same way. He kept running into dead ends, and one tight passage he tried to squeeze through caught him on an outcropping of rock and for several long, panicked seconds he couldn’t move at all. He shoved through and stood, shaking, waiting for the skin scraped off his back to heal.
When he looked up again and realized he’d just hit another dead end and now he had to go back through that same passage, he had to squeeze his eyes shut and fight back the tears of frustration and exhaustion that sprang so readily to the surface. Then, gritting his teeth, he pushed back through and trudged on.
At first he thought the light was a hallucination, or wishful thinking-the lantern was beginning to fade and the dark was creeping in with dreadful purpose. It was the weak, gray light of dawn, and he didn’t believe it until he felt the touch of fresh air on his skin. He broke into a run, scrabbling frantically at the crack in the rock until he remembered he had to turn sideways, and then he fell through into the day.
The air was cold and sharp, the ground hard beneath him, but the sight of the pale morning sky made him finally lose the fight and his eyes stung. He heard running footsteps, and then Hiro’s relieved, joyful voice. “Kensei! You did it!”
Reaching a hand up, Kensei yanked Hiro down beside him, the other man falling with a surprised yelp. Kensei rolled to his side, wrapped his arms around the comforting warmth and softness of Hiro’s body, buried his face in Hiro’s chest, and refused to let go.
~~~
Kensei had been gone for a full day and night, and Hiro had moved past worry and well into panic by the time the man had finally come stumbling out of the cave. Hiro caught his breath at the sight of him. He was filthy, covered in dirt and something that was very clearly blood, milk pale and staggering, his clothes nearly ripped to shreds.
Kensei collapsed on his back and stared up at the sky, and Hiro ran to him, calling out his name. He was shocked when a sharp tug brought him down, and then Kensei was wrapped around him, his whole body shaking, arms so tight Hiro could barely breathe.
“Kensei?” he said, patting his back uncertainly. “It is all right. You did it!”
That got no response, and when Hiro tried to wriggle away the grip only got tighter, so he stopped resisting. The other man relaxed by slow degrees, his shuddering gasps easing into soft breathing, his arms growing lax around Hiro’s back. Hiro stroked his fingertips along Kensei’s sides and back, feeling his perfectly smooth, unmarked skin between the gaping tears in his clothes.
“Was it...” Hiro began, then trailed off. He wanted to ask if it had been bad, but clearly it had been. He wasn’t sure if Kensei’s reaction was from his claustrophobia or from what must have been a terrible battle, and judging by the amount of blood, maybe it was better he didn’t know the details.
Instead, he closed his eyes, concentrated, and suddenly they were lying in soft sand and the air was warm and dry, a balm after the chill, thin air of the mountain. Kensei felt the difference and lifted his head warily, looking around. “Where have you brought us?”
“Very far away,” Hiro said. “This is where I went, after... when I had to get away. It’s Las Vegas.” He chuckled softly, “Or, it will be, one day. Right now it is just the desert, but I know where there is water, not far from here.”
He stood and offered a hand to Kensei, who took it and refused to let it go. Hiro led them across scrubby desert flatland, and soon a shimmer of water was visible, growing to a wide, low pond surrounded by brush as they got closer. Kensei knelt at the edge and drank greedily, dipping his whole face in the water and scrubbing his fingers through his hair.
“You should wash,” Hiro said. “Yaeko should not see you like this.”
Kensei looked down at himself and nodded. “Not pretty, is it?”
Hiro said nothing, watching as Kensei stripped off the remains of his clothes, pinning the scroll to the ground beneath his discarded sandals. His pale skin was golden in the sun, broad shoulders tapering to a waist that his hands would fit perfectly, and Hiro swallowed nervously when Kensei caught him watching.
Kensei stepped toward the water and looked back at him, reaching out one hand, beckoning.
“You know I can’t.”
“Hiro,” Kensei said softly. “Please. You cannot imagine what it was like in that cave. What I did there. I just. I need this.”
Hiro could have resisted seduction, could have remained firm against temptation, but a plea for help had always been his undoing. He closed his eyes and succumbed, fumbling with his clothes until he felt Kensei’s hands doing it for him. He stood still, the sun warm on his shoulders, the ground hot and foreign beneath his feet, the world perfectly silent but for their breathing, and he felt very far from home.
His robe slipped away from his shoulders, and Hiro kept his eyes closed, allowing Kensei to lead him to the spring. The water was cool and wonderful, slipping over his skin, and he let himself slide below the surface, startled and gasping for air when Kensei pulled him back up. Maybe this is a dream, Hiro thought, and then: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, and he laughed.
“Something funny, carp?” Kensei asked, his voice very close to Hiro’s ear, and Hiro looked at him, smiling.
“It is hard to explain,” he replied. “Are you all right now?”
“Getting there,” Kensei said, and kissed him.
The shock of it, the heat and pressure and reality, wiped out all possibility that this was a dream. For a moment Hiro panicked because this couldn’t happen, this was not supposed to happen and he would break history if he didn’t stop right now--but then Kensei ran his fingers through Hiro’s hair, holding him closer and Hiro could feel their legs wind together in the water, the warmth of Kensei’s skin and he stopped fighting it.
Kensei was moving fast, his hands clutching at Hiro’s skin, clinging to him, his breath rasping in Hiro’s ear as kisses were trailed down his throat. Hiro held his face in both hands, gentling the kisses, then pressed his lips to each of Kensei’s eyes, tasting salt. “How did you know?” Hiro asked. “How did you know I would want this?”
“A man knows his own kind,” Kensei replied. “And I saw the way you looked at me.”
Hiro ducked his head, feeling a blush heat his skin. Kensei chuckled and lifted his chin with a fingertip, kissing him again. The tip of his tongue darted out, sliding over Hiro’s bottom lip and Hiro shivered, his eyes falling shut. Kensei’s hand stroked down his back, fingernails leaving trails of sparking heat, then cupped his ass and pulled them into contact. Hiro moaned and dug his fingers into Kensei’s arms, twisting in the water, wanting more.
“Have you done this before?” Kensei whispered in his ear, then licked the rim, making Hiro whimper low in his throat. “Have you lain with another man?”
“No,” Hiro said, “I... I didn’t know.”
“Good,” Kensei said, and bit him where his neck curved into his shoulder, soothing the sting with a kiss. Hiro gasped when he felt Kensei’s hand between his legs, stroking him in a slow, maddening, perfect slide, and Kensei’s mouth was busy at his neck again, nibbling under his jaw, kissing him in the soft, vulnerable place where the blood ran just beneath the surface.
Hiro thought distantly that he should probably be doing something in return, that he should be touching Kensei, too, but he was too overwhelmed to do anything but cry out in delight as Kensei found more ways to wring sensation from him. Kensei held him by the hips and turned him and Hiro ran his hands greedily over Kensei’s back, soaking up the feel of his skin.
It was a momentary unfamiliar shock to feel Kensei, hot and hard and pressing against his belly, but then they turned again and Hiro realized he could press right back, that every time he moved Kensei made a soft, breathless little “oh” sound, and that he’d never in his life felt anything like this.
Hiro pushed with his feet and rose up and Kensei caught him, supporting him easily, both of them light in the water. They kissed again, Kensei mumbling words into Hiro’s mouth, catching the tip of his tongue and sucking on it, then breaking away to kiss his neck again, to mouth the line of his collarbone.
Hiro kept closing his eyes because the world was impossibly bright, the sun glinting off the sand and the water and their skin, and when he opened them again Kensei was staring at him. “What I did today,” Kensei began, “I never could have done that before I met you. You make me...”
“What?”
Kensei shook his head. “I don’t know if I can explain it. But you make me better. You give me faith.”
Hiro smiled and kissed the corners of Kensei’s mouth, stroking a thumb over his cheek. “I believe in you. You’ve been my hero my whole life, how could I not?”
Kensei closed his eyes and pulled him close, pressing his face into Hiro’s neck. Hiro stroked the back of his head, then shuddered when Kensei began rocking them again, a delicious friction that built up and up until Hiro couldn’t keep silent anymore and cried out. He felt Kensei smile against his skin and just like that, he realized he didn’t have to try and control it anymore.
He laughed and kissed Kensei and tilted closer, shifting so he could feel the skin of Kensei’s belly pressing against his whole length and his eyes went wide when he realized the words Kensei was mouthing against his shoulder.
“Kensei,” he breathed into the other man’s ear. “Me too.”
And Kensei shouted and his hips stuttered against Hiro’s, and Hiro could feel the jet of heat between them. He thrust up once more, twice, and then Kensei’s hand was there, cradling him, thumb stroking the head and Kensei murmuring, “Now, now, I want to feel it, now...”
Hiro threw his head back and let go, Kensei catching him and they sank low in the water, wrapped together, remembering to breathe.
“Well,” Kensei said after a moment. “This is new.”
“What?” Hiro mumbled, then opened his eyes and realized the drops of water they’d flung were still hanging in the air, the ripples in the surface were unmoving, and a whirl of dust by the shore was hanging, pristine, like the shape of wind. “Oh,” he said. “I stopped time.”
Kensei reached out a cautious hand and touched the surface, and the water parted around his hand normally, but once he removed his hand the indentation remained. He looked at Hiro uncertainly. “Does that usually happen?”
Hiro shrugged. “Maybe? Don’t know, I haven’t had my powers very long.”
“Ah.” Kensei looked around again and shivered. “Could you start everything up again? It’s a bit unsettling.”
Hiro laughed and closed his eyes, and the world rushed back to life, the wind stirring the sands and water dropping to the surface all around them. While his eyes were still closed, Kensei kissed him again, and smiled against his mouth. Hiro sighed and wrapped his arms around Kensei’s shoulders, resting their heads together.
“Thank you for this,” Kensei said. “For all of it.”
Hiro pulled back and looked up at him, and smiled sadly. “We have to go back soon,” he said. “Yaeko must be worried.”
Kensei nodded. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “About how I die at the end.”
Hiro frowned and shook his head. “Kensei, don’t.”
“No, hear me out, carp.” They walked out of the spring together, and sat on a flat rock, drying in the sun. “The story says I die for my love, right? To protect her.”
“Yes,” Hiro agreed cautiously. “The dragon demands her life, and you offer your own instead.”
“Right, very noble of me, I’m sure. But what if it doesn’t mean die in the literal sense? What if, instead, I give up my life here? Disappear, go somewhere far away, so that the enemies I’ve made on your mad quests don’t come after Yaeko. I could even let them think they’ve killed me. They can stab me through the heart, and I’ll lay there and bleed and be very convincingly dead, and then you will work your magic and we’ll be far away, never heard from again.”
Hiro sat up straight, staring at him. “That... that could work! And you would do that?”
“Well look at my choices,” Kensei replied. “Live a new life somewhere far away with you, or die. It’s not a difficult decision.”
“But Kensei, I must return to the future,” Hiro pointed out. “I cannot stay in this time forever.”
“Perfect,” Kensei said. “From what I’ve heard, I think I’ll like your future.”
“You want me to bring you with me? To my time?” Hiro asked incredulously.
“Why not?” Kensei replied. “I’m good at adapting to new places. I’ll fit right in.”
Hiro tried to imagine Takezo Kensei in the cubicle next to his, with his helmet beside him on the desk and his samurai sword propped against the filing cabinet. He gave a slightly hysterical chuckle and got up, going to his clothes. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said. “Right now we need to get this scroll back to Yaeko, and save Japan.”
Kensei sighed and reluctantly got dressed. He pulled Hiro close for one more kiss, then gave him a stern look. “Watch yourself once we get back to camp. You give too much away with your eyes.”
Hiro nodded solemnly, but knew he wouldn’t be able to maintain his composure for long. If what Kensei had suggested could actually happen-if they could defeat White Beard and save Japan and escape with Kensei’s life and history intact, if they could have a future... well. The excitement and hope felt like fire in his chest, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it.
They stopped at the mountain top for Kensei’s armor, which hid the worst of the damage to his clothes, and then they were back in the forest and walking to camp. Yaeko came running to greet them, flinging her arms around Kensei and exclaiming happily over the scroll.
She rolled out the map and matched the last piece to it, and they all sat back, realizing the time had come for the final battle. Kensei covered her hand with his and Hiro watched, the guilt rushing over him again. But that was how the story was supposed to go, he reminded himself. Yaeko was destined to lose her love. He just wished he didn’t feel like he was the one stealing it from her.
~~~
After the nightmare of the cave in the mountain, the final showdown with White Beard turned out to be anti-climactic. Sneaking into the camp was too easy, Kensei thought contemptuously. The men were complacent, sure in their superiority, careless. They found Yaeko’s father, and it would have been a simple rescue until he told them about the guns.
Kensei knew his way around a gun, but frankly, preferred a sword and a crossbow. Guns were unreliable and loud, and entirely too dependent on ammunition which could easily run out. Hiro was plainly horrified at the idea of so many guns in Japan, and Kensei had to stop himself from putting a hand on the other man’s back to steady him.
“This is how you save Japan,” Hiro told him earnestly and it still got to Kensei every time, that Hiro was so very sure he would save them, as if he’d never doubted it.
Things were going well until the escape, which turned out to be much harder than getting in had been. They scattered and ran, Kensei taking the swordsmith and Hiro running with Yaeko. Kensei took several arrows to the back as they fled, but his body pushed them back out and the swordsmith, facing ahead, didn’t notice. He managed to fight off their pursuers and those still able to stand straggled back to their camp, promising retribution.
The old man was panting to catch his breath, doubled over with his hands on his knees, but Kensei urged him onward. Hiro couldn’t take arrows the way he could, couldn’t take being hurt, and if he’d gotten this far only to lose him now...
He broke into a relieved grin when he saw Hiro and Yaeko in the clearing, but it faded as he got closer. Yaeko was staring at Hiro with dawning comprehension, and Hiro was looking miserable and guilty and Kensei had a sinking feeling he knew what had happened.
“Kensei!” Hiro said, turning to him with obvious relief. “You’re safe! The swordsmith?”
“He’s here,” Kensei said, gesturing behind him, and Yaeko ran to her father, holding him for a moment. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Hiro said, “but-”
“He has a power!” Yaeko said, pointing to Hiro. “He brought us here in an instant, from the battle. And it was he who saved me from the brigands.” At that, she cast an accusing glare at Kensei. “A deed that you claimed.”
“I’m sorry,” Hiro said, switching to English, “I had to or we would have been shot. She understood so fast! I didn’t think she would know it was me before, who saved her.”
“It’s not your fault, carp,” Kensei replied quickly. “I’ll handle this.” He turned to Yaeko, and gave a short bow. “I am sorry, my love,” he said. “Hiro does have a great gift, and he did save you that day. He allowed me to take credit because he knew my feelings for you, and he is a good and true friend. Please forgive me this lapse in judgment; I should have told you.”
She softened visibly, and he caught her father’s approving nod. Turning to Hiro, he added, “And thank you, for keeping the secret. I never could have come this far without you.”
Hiro beamed and bounced a little on the balls of his feet. “I am honored to help the great hero, Takezo Kensei,” he said. “But there is no time to lose. The guns must be destroyed.”
“Yes,” Kensei said. “It will not be safe for you here,” he told Yaeko. “Please take your father, and return to the village. We will meet you there once the guns have been destroyed, and White Beard’s camp is broken.”
Yaeko gave him a look which suggested he was not completely forgiven, but she did as he asked, riding with her father back toward Otsu.
When they were well out of sight, Kensei sagged in relief and pulled Hiro close, kissing him until the tight knot of tension in his belly unraveled. “You could have been killed,” he said, tilting Hiro’s face up to meet his eyes. “You’ve got to be more careful.”
“I am all right,” Hiro said, “you worry too much.” But his shy smile said he liked being worried about. “Come, I will take us straight to the guns.”
Kensei closed his eyes, feeling the strange airless rush that always came when Hiro traveled, and then they were in a low tent, surrounded by crates of guns and barrels of black powder. The two guards standing at the door were facing out, not in, and he took them both down quickly and quietly. Hiro was already pouring the black powder everywhere, and Kensei looked uneasily at the flickering lanterns.
“Foolish thing to have in a place like this,” he said, lifting one.
Hiro smiled at him. “It will make our task easy. Help me with the powder.”
Together they spread two barrels out, getting well coated in the dust themselves, and then Hiro took his hand. “Once it starts,” he said, “we will have to leave very fast. Make sure you don’t let go.”
Kensei nodded, swallowing. “I might be able to survive even this, but I’m not especially keen to find out.” Then he lifted a lantern and flung it, and it shattered against a tent post, splashing burning oil everywhere. The straw floor and black powder caught fast, cracking and popping noisily, and alarmed shouts came from outside. Kensei had time to smell the smoke, to feel the rush of heat roll over them in a thick wave, and then they were on the ridge over the camp, Hiro still holding tight to his hand.
The first explosion tore the tent apart, flinging debris high into the air, and they both flinched back instinctively. The blasts kept coming as each barrel of black powder exploded, and soon half the camp was on fire. Crashes and the smell of burning rose to them, along with the panicked cries of White Beard’s men, and Hiro turned away, closing his eyes.
Kensei stood behind him and wrapped his arms around Hiro’s chest, resting his chin on his shoulder. “It had to be done,” he said. “You defeated White Beard. You’ve saved Japan, Hiro.”
“You did that,” Hiro replied. “And history will remember you for it. It’s as it should be.”
Kensei took a deep breath. “Now it’s time to meet my martyrdom, I suppose.”
Hiro turned and nodded, a smile breaking through his bleak expression. “And then we disappear.”
They walked slowly back to town; Hiro could have gotten them there faster, of course, but it wouldn’t do to arrive before Yaeko and her father, or suddenly appear out of thin air in front of some villager. As it turned out it was good that they had walked, as they found Yaeko and her father halfway to the village, held at sword point. Kensei recognized the crest of White Beard they all wore, and nodded to himself. Here it was, then.
He drew his sword, ready to rush in dutifully and save her, when a man wearing full armor drew a knife and held it to her throat. “She dies,” he said, “if you take another step.”
Kensei froze, and Hiro did the same beside him. The man had a mask with a coiled golden dragon emblazoned across the top and his long, white beard was visible below it, touching the center of his chest. Hiro whispered, “The Dragon.”
“Takezo Kensei,” he said, “today you will pay for what you have stolen from me. My men say you cannot be defeated in battle, but I can take from you that which you hold most dear.”
“No,” Kensei said sharply, holding up his hands. Slowly, he dropped his sword and removed his armor, glad that Hiro had told him exactly what to say. He felt like he was reading in a play, but he said it anyway. “Take my heart, for that is where my love is.” And he walked forward, unarmed and helpless, and stood before the dragon.
“You offer your life for hers?” he asked.
“Yes,” Kensei said, “please.”
“It is an honorable choice,” the dragon said. “I will accept it.” And he pushed Yaeko away and drew his sword in a swift, fluid motion, and Kensei felt it go in, felt his body shudder with the impact. He fell to his knees and his vision darkened as his heart struggled to heal around the sword, and failed. He was aware of Yaeko crying out nearby, and he fell back, the tip of the sword catching on the ground beneath him and twisting painfully. He gasped once, saw the blue sky above him narrow to a point of light, and with the feeling of greeting an old, familiar friend, he died.
~~~
More to follow, thank you for reading!
Chapter Three