Fic: Yen, 4/12
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
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
~~~
Part 4
By the time morning came to the city, Kensei had learned several things about the future. He found out that people and cars moved together in very specific patterns, and if either one moved out of turn, it was loudly chastised by the other. He’d learned that he liked elevators, but hated the subway. He’d learned that people were on the streets night and day, and they always seemed to be going somewhere with great impatience. And he learned that Hiro, after walking all night and still stuck in a leftover sleep cycle from several hundred years ago, grew sleepy and soft-eyed and tended to lean against him a lot more.
It was not hard to choose which piece of new knowledge he liked the best.
Hiro insisted there was one more thing they had to see before going to meet his father, and Kensei followed along willingly. They were near to where they’d started, he thought, going by the way the buildings were packed close together, towering over them, shimmering glass and stone giants in the morning sun.
Hiro took them into one (Kensei wrestled briefly with the revolving glass door, but defeated it after going around twice) and they were in a wide, high room, all sleek marble floors, echoing footsteps, and rivers of people. They headed for the elevators, and Kensei smiled at the now familiar swoop of ascent, Hiro’s back leaning against his chest in the small, crowded space that was somehow not so confining with him there.
They took it up as far as it would go, and then there was a hallway, another elevator, and a stairwell, all going up. “Where are we going?” Kensei asked, eying the stairs beneath them. “The top of the world?”
Hiro nodded. “Close to it.” Then he pushed open a door and they stepped out into daylight. There was a flat concrete deck, a thick railing surrounding it, and beyond that, the city laid out at their feet.
“Oh,” Kensei said softly, leaning against the rail. The tops of buildings were all around them, the streets stretching out in an intricate maze of corners and lights, the ever present sound of traffic and people drifting in a muted murmur from below. The wind was strong, buffeting them both, whipping Hiro’s hair around his head in tufts and flapping his jacket open. Kensei pressed against his side, sharing warmth, and Hiro leaned in, taking a deep breath.
“The Empire State Building,” he said. “I wanted to see it last time we were in New York, but there was never time.”
Kensei nodded, although the title meant nothing to him. “I never would have seen this,” he said. “Never would have seen any of this, if not for you.”
Hiro smiled shyly and said nothing, and they walked slowly around the deck. They weren’t the only ones enjoying the view; Kensei saw the same wide mix of people that seemed to be everywhere in this city. It was strange after a lifetime of seeing people clumped together in groups of their own, to see so many different ages and colors and languages in one place. He supposed that was another way the future was different.
Kensei could have spent a long time looking at the city, at the intricate pattern of life flowing through it and the people within, but Hiro was starting to shiver in the wind and he knew he couldn’t put off meeting Hiro’s father forever. So he steered them back toward the stairwell, and once they were hidden from view, Hiro took them away.
They appeared beside a granite column, tucked in its shadow, and Kensei saw a wide courtyard with a fountain in the center, and a strange red spiral staircase that led nowhere, sitting in the water. Like everywhere else in the city, people were bustling by, crossing the courtyard on their way somewhere; the man sitting on a bench by the fountain was unique merely be being still.
Hiro squeezed his hand briefly, then let it go, and Kensei saw him take a deep breath. As they approached, Kensei found himself evaluating the man as he would an enemy in battle. He was older than most men Kensei had seen, but then most didn’t live much past forty in the world he’d grown up in. He held himself upright, tightly disciplined, and although he seemed to read a newspaper, his eyes flicked up regularly to watch his surroundings. He struck Kensei as formidable, which explained a lot about Hiro’s persistence and dogged determination. He would have had to be so, to grow up in that man’s house.
He saw their approach, his face softening to a smile, and stood to meet them. “Father,” Hiro said, obviously trying so hard to maintain a certain decorum, his eyes giving him away.
“Hiro,” he replied, clapping a hand briskly on Hiro’s shoulder. “You’ve returned.”
Hiro gave a short bow and nodded. Kensei stayed a few steps back, watching.
“Where have you been?” Hiro’s father asked.
“Japan, 1671,” Hiro replied, which answered one question for Kensei. Obviously his father knew about his ability.
“The time of Takezo Kensei,” he said, and Hiro nodded, waving Kensei forward.
“Yes, and I brought him with me!”
That brought the conversation to an awkward halt.
Hiro’s father stared at him, then at Hiro. “This is Takezo Kensei?”
“I didn’t believe it either at first,” Hiro said, “but it is really him! We defeated White Beard together, and saved Japan.” Then, as an afterthought, he said, “Oh, Kensei, this is my father, Kaito Nakamura.”
Kensei hesitated, then gave a short bow. Kaito regarded him impassively for a long moment, made a low, disapproving hum, and then turned to Hiro. “You must tell me everything.”
Hiro nodded eagerly, and started with falling into an open field during an eclipse. He explained how he had saved the man he’d thought was Kensei, but then met the real Kensei. “I was so surprised when he took off his mask,” Hiro said. “And it turned out I had stopped him from defeating the men in the field. I thought I broke history, but we fixed it.”
They sat by the fountain and Hiro wove the tale of their adventures, Kensei filling in pieces on occasion. It had already become obvious that Hiro didn’t intend to tell his father anything about their personal relationship, but Kensei thought he might not need to say it in so many words.
The way he kept looking at Kensei when describing some supposedly heroic deed he’d pulled off, or his cleverness at outsmarting his enemies, or the way the swordsmith’s daughter had fallen immediately in love with him... well. Kaito was clearly not a foolish man. That, combined with the all too visible love bite on Hiro’s neck from their indiscretion in the fitting room, had to tell him all he needed to know.
“So Kensei offered his heart to the dragon, just like in the stories,” Hiro said, wrapping up. “The dragon took it, and Yaeko was saved, and so was Japan.”
Kaito absorbed that for a moment, then turned to Kensei. “An ordinary man could not have survived the trials of Takezo Kensei, nor the loss of his heart.”
Kensei nodded ruefully. He’d had a feeling Kaito would catch on fast. “No,” he agreed. “Hiro called it a gift.”
“Yes, he has a power,” Hiro said. “Like I do! Only he cannot bend time and space. But he can heal from any wound!”
Kaito raised one eyebrow thoughtfully. “That is a valuable gift.” Turning to Hiro, he said, “That explains how he survived. What it does not answer is why you chose to bring him into our time.”
“Oh,” Hiro said, shifting uneasily. He looked at Kensei for help, his expression and the telltale flush spreading on his face giving him away once again.
“They thought I was dead,” Kensei said, although it was quite obvious that Kaito already knew why Hiro had brought him. Still, if the man wanted a rational explanation to hold on to, Kensei would offer him one. “I couldn’t very well stay there and show up walking around, perfectly fine the next day.”
Kaito made another of those disapproving hums. “It was ill-advised, Hiro,” he said. “You could have changed the future by doing this.”
Hiro wilted a little, but didn’t give in. “Four months ago, I was a part of changing the future, and that is why this city is still here, why all these people are still alive,” he said. “Not all change is for the worse, Father. Maybe this is a different future than if Kensei had stayed in the past, yes. Maybe it is a better future.”
“Perhaps,” Kaito said. “But that does not change the fact that he is here now.” He looked skeptically at Kensei. “If you intend to stay, you will need an identity. You cannot continue to be Takezo Kensei.”
That was easy enough for Kensei to understand; he’d changed his own identity more than once. “I’m from England originally,” he said. “My given name was Adam Monroe.”
“So it will be again,” Kaito agreed. “You will need documentation. I can have that made for you, if you will agree to grant a small favor.”
“Father,” Hiro scolded, frowning. “Kensei is my friend.”
“It’s no trouble,” Kensei said quickly. He hadn’t known Kaito long, but he’d known enough men like him to understand that a request for a favor was not a request at all.
“Good,” Kaito said. “There are people I know who would be very interested in your ability, and the chance to study it. A man working for our group has a lab here in the city; his name is Dr. Suresh. I want you to go see him.”
Once he’d given them the address, Kaito rose to his feet, and they followed suit. “We have to go right now?” Hiro asked a little plaintively.
“It is important work,” Kaito replied. “And I must return to Japan. I will remain in contact,” he added, with a glance at Kensei. Kensei met his eyes and nodded, understanding the implication. Kaito would be watching him. Kensei thought that for deflowering the man’s only son, he’d gotten off lightly.
Kaito and Hiro said their farewells, and then he was striding off across the plaza, cutting an effortless path through the crowd. Hiro looked over at Kensei and offered a relieved smile. “I think he liked you.”
“Well, he didn’t try to take my head off,” Kensei replied. “That’s something.”
Hiro nodded. Then he wrinkled his nose and said, “Adam Monroe? Really?”
“Really. I suppose I’ll have to get used to using it again.”
“You will always be Takezo Kensei,” Hiro said firmly.
Kensei chuckled and cast Hiro a sidelong glance. “Does that mean you’ll always be... what did you call it? My biggest fan?”
“Of course,” Hiro said, like he shouldn’t even need to ask, and Kensei thought whatever his other future might have been, he didn’t care. He was keeping this one.
~~~
When Hiro got a closer look at the address they were supposed to go to, a cold sense of unease settled over him. It was Mr. Isaac’s address, the man who had written the comic book that told his future. The man Sylar had killed. Hiro had felt it before since discovering his powers; that sense of connection and pattern, of coincidence, but not really.
“What?” Kensei (Adam, Hiro reminded himself) asked.
“I have been there before,” Hiro said. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m sure,” Kensei (Adam) replied dryly.
Hiro nodded and led them around the corner of the building, out of sight. They didn’t have enough money left for a cab and he was too tired and his feet too sore to walk, and the New York public transit system continued to baffle him, so that left his usual shortcut. A breath later they were standing outside the door of the loft.
Hiro knocked, then pushed the door open when there was no response. “Dr. Suresh?” he called out. “Hello?”
They advanced into the room, and Adam caught Hiro by the arm, pulling him back a step as they reached the edge of the painting on the floor. “Is that the bomb you were talking about?” he asked.
Hiro nodded. “I saw a future where it happened.”
“Not a pleasant one, I take it.”
“No,” Hiro replied. “I met future-me. He was scary.”
“Scary? You?”
“He was,” Hiro insisted. “He had killed too many. It changed him.”
“Yes, it does,” Adam agreed softly.
Hiro touched his hand, stroking his thumb over Adam’s knuckles. “Kensei?”
“Adam,” he corrected. “And that must be the good doctor.”
Hiro glanced up at the man approaching them. Dr. Suresh turned out to be not what he was expecting. Young, with a scruffy growth of beard and what looked like a recently broken nose, wearing jeans under a white lab coat. “They told me you were coming,” he said. “Hiro and Adam, right?”
Hiro nearly corrected him, but caught himself and nodded.
“Adam Monroe,” Adam said, sticking out his hand. Hiro watched them shake hands, startled by how fast it had happened, Adam dropping the Japanese mannerisms and even smoothing his English accent so it was less noticeable, more American. He had the feeling this wasn’t the first time he’d had to become someone else.
“Good to meet you,” Suresh said, returning Hiro’s nod. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I’ll do my best to answer them for you.”
“Well,” Adam spread his hands, “I understand I’m supposed to help with some work you’re doing, but I’m not sure what it is.”
Suresh nodded. “Right. I’m working on a cure for a virus, a very specific strain of virus that only affects people like yourself and Hiro. People with special abilities, and a certain genetic marker.”
Adam gave a slow blink, and then raised his eyebrows at Hiro. “He means a sickness,” Hiro said. “Only people with special powers can get it.” To Suresh, he added, “Kens... I mean, Adam, is from the sixteenth century. I don’t think they knew about viruses.”
“Oh,” Suresh said. He took a moment to absorb that, and then shrugged. “I suppose I’ve seen stranger things. To put it simply, it’s very rare, and up until a short while ago the antibodies in my blood were the only known cure. But there’s a mutated version that my blood can no longer cure, and that’s what I’m working on. With your ability to regenerate, you may have exactly the natural immunity I need.”
“Ah, right,” Adam said. “So what do I do?”
“We’ll start with some simple tests, just to gauge your abilities. Yours too,” Suresh added to Hiro. “I understand you can travel through time?”
“And space,” Hiro agreed. “Like this.” And he blinked out, reappearing on the other side of the room.
“Amazing,” Suresh said, smiling. “We’ll definitely look at that in more detail. For now, though, the cure is the priority so I’ll need to work with Adam first.”
Hiro nodded and followed them into the lab, which turned out to be a cluster of benches and complicated equipment stuck incongruously in the middle of the loft. He watched as Adam sliced his arm with a scalpel, Suresh widening his eyes in alarm at the blood until it was wiped away, the cut sealing itself. Hiro had seen the trick plenty of times, and he didn’t especially like watching Adam hurt anyway, so he poked around the lab a little, bored.
Behind him, Suresh was speculating about whether Adam could regrow missing limbs, and Adam said he’d rather not find out the hard way that he couldn’t. Hiro found a machine with a wide array of buttons and dials and thought it looked like a console from the Enterprise. Curiously, he pressed a couple, until the machine made an irritable beep and Suresh asked him to not do that.
Hiro sighed and sat on a stool for a little while, watching Suresh and Adam. The tests seemed to mainly consist on taking several blood samples and putting them into various spinning and beeping machines, and then asking endless questions.
“Do broken bones take longer to heal?”
“No, about the same.”
“Is there a limit to how much blood loss you can recover from?”
“If there is, I haven’t gotten there yet.”
“What about head injuries?”
“The occasional bump and knock, certainly. I’ve never had it cut off... I imagine that one would be permanent.”
“Have you ever actually died and come back?”
“Often.”
“What is it like?”
“Like... dying. It’s hard to explain.”
“What’s your approximate age?”
At that one, Adam paused, and Hiro was glad he could finally do something. “When I saw your sword in the museum, it said you were born in 1584,” he said. “So if I found you in 1671...” He frowned, shaking his head. “No, that doesn’t work. You’d be almost ninety. The museum must have it wrong.”
“History misses all kinds of details,” Adam said, offering Hiro a conspirator’s grin, and Hiro pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.
Suresh didn’t seem inclined to drop the subject. “So you weren’t born in 1584? What year was it, then?”
Adam shrugged. “I’ve lost track.”
“Lost track,” Suresh echoed. “Of how many years you’ve lived?”
“It’s not the same as it is now,” Adam replied. “I see how everyone here is always hurrying, always looking at the time, at the day. Time is so important here, but where I came from... when I came from? It just wasn’t that critical.”
“Okay, I understand, but could you give me an estimate? Thirty, forty, fifty years? More?”
Adam shifted and blew an irritated breath through his teeth. “I told you, I lost track. Why does it matter?”
“If your cells can regenerate, if they don’t die, the aging process may not be the same for you,” Suresh said. “You could appear about twenty-five, as you do now, and actually be much older. It’s an important part of your ability, because if you can heal from any wound and if you don’t age, you’d be functionally immortal.”
Hiro sat up straight, watching Adam, who didn’t meet his eyes, and oh, it explained so much. The way he fell so easily into changing his identity, the suggestions that he’d made of living in many ways, in many places, the way he’d effortlessly been able to read Hiro, to know things about him Hiro hadn’t even admitted to himself. It spoke of a long study of human behavior, of experience. Of time.
“You knew?” Hiro asked, and it felt like a hard punch to the chest, knocking the air from him, the thought that Adam had known all along about his gift, that he’d lied.
“No, I didn’t,” Adam said, going to him, slipping a hand around his arm. “I knew I didn’t seem to grow old the way those around me did, but I didn’t know I could heal. Not until that day with the arrows, with you. I fought dirty, remember? So I didn’t get hurt.”
Hiro nodded; he could remember how surprised Adam had been that day, how spooked and uncertain. “And are you really almost a hundred years old?”
Adam shrugged. “Give or take a few. I really did lose track.”
“Remarkable,” Suresh said, beaming. “If Hiro had left you in the past, you realize you could still be alive today?”
Adam nodded slowly, a strange, melancholy expression drawing down his face for a moment. “That is a long time to wait,” he said.
It took Hiro a little while to understand that, and when he did, when it sank in that Adam would have waited over four hundred years for him, he had to sit very still and count to ten and restrain the urge to pounce on Adam and squeeze him breathless. Fortunately both Adam and Suresh were looking at red circles swimming on a computer screen by then, and didn’t notice.
Hiro watched for a little while, and tried to follow the discussion, but it was mainly Suresh explaining basic medical terms and the slow, hypnotic swish of the cells on the screen, and he found himself yawning, his eyes heavy, his head aching with tiredness. So he got up and wandered around, looking at the paintings that remained, and eventually he sank down in a chair behind a small table near the windows.
When he looked up, he realized this was where he’d sat when the police questioned him, the first time he’d seen the future. That was what... four months ago? Five? Both, sort of, since it was four months in real time, but longer for him personally. And thinking about the logistics was not helping his headache.
Still, not that long. It was hard to believe that had been him, barely speaking English, utterly unable to control his power, so excited about saving the world. He had thought it would be a wonderful adventure. Hiro looked down at his hands, remembering holding the sword so tight his fingers ached, and the way it had felt going into Sylar, the horribly easy slide of sharp, smooth metal against flesh and bone, the way his eyes had gone so wide and blood rimmed his lips.
It had been an adventure. Hiro wasn’t so sure it had been wonderful.
His eyes stung, and Hiro decided it must be the bright sunshine streaming through the windows, so he folded his arms on the table and put his head down, grateful for the darkness. He reminded himself to take his glasses off so they wouldn’t press a line into his cheek, but was asleep before he could finish the thought.
~~~
Most of the time the things Suresh said made little to no sense to Adam, but he nodded and allowed himself to be poked and prodded and watched pictures on one of those moving screens. Eventually they got some results which Suresh seemed very excited about, pointing at the screen. “Do you see?” he asked, and Adam nodded again, although all he saw was more meaningless blobs of color.
“The damaged cells are actually being repaired,” Suresh said. “This is more than prevention, its actual healing. A small amount of your blood could be more than the cure to this virus. It could be a cure for cancer, for AIDS, for... well, anything. And you see, the cells are multiplying! They’re actually replicating themselves with more healthy cells.”
“Right,” Adam said, tapping a row of glass tubes and listening to them clink together. “And that’s good?”
“It’s incredible! People could regrow organs with this. No more waiting for years on a transplant list. It could cure paralysis, Parkinson’s... maybe even inborn genetic defects, like down syndrome or cerebral palsy.”
Adam nodded again and wondered when this would be over, so he could get back to exploring the future with Hiro. When Suresh didn’t say anything else for a long stretch, he glanced up and found the doctor watching him.
“What?” he asked.
“None of this means anything to you, does it?” Suresh said. “I’m sorry, I just assumed... a lot has changed in four hundred years. These things I’m talking about, they are terrible diseases. They kill millions every year. And your blood could be the cure.”
“Millions,” Adam echoed. “That’s a lot of blood.”
“Well, of course, not directly your blood,” Suresh agreed. “Even with your ability to regenerate, you could never make enough to meet the need. We have to find a way to replicate it, to produce it in mass quantities. But for now, I have the cure for the virus, which means you’ve saved at least one life already.”
“Glad to hear it,” Adam replied, thinking he should probably mean that. But it wasn’t as if he’d done anything heroic; he’d just been lucky enough to be born with magic blood.
“In fact,” Suresh said thoughtfully, “maybe we should try a human trial.”
“Not Hiro,” Adam said sharply, and Suresh gave him a confused look.
“Of course not Hiro, he’s not sick.” He paused, frowning. “Is he?”
“No, I just... I don’t want you experimenting on him.”
“Ah.” Suresh nodded knowingly. “I understand.”
Adam clenched his teeth and looked away, annoyed with himself. And he’d cautioned Hiro against giving himself away too easily? Of all people, he should really know better. When he looked back, Suresh was busy with a vial of his blood, loading it into one of those needle tipped tubes.
“Here we go,” Suresh said, and then injected the blood into his own arm.
Adam raised his eyebrows. “Is that a good idea?”
“I hope so.” Suresh held a cotton ball to the puncture, watching his arm as if he expected it to change color. “Your blood is free of diseases, and you’re O negative, the universal donor, so at worst I’ve just had a small transfusion. But if it works like I think it will...” He paused, then removed the cotton ball. His skin was perfectly smooth, the needle mark already gone.
“I think it’s working,” Adam said, watching the bruising around the doctor’s broken nose fade, then disappear, the skin smoothing along the straight bone beneath.
Suresh grinned and pulled the tape off his face, taking a deep breath. “It certainly feels good to do that again,” he said. He rubbed his fingertips over the healed skin, nodding. Then he drew a bit of his own blood, carefully labeling the tube with the time and date. “I’ll have to do several follow up tests,” he explained, “to make sure there aren’t negative long term affects. But based on these results I don’t believe there will be.”
“Great,” Adam said. “Now, if you don’t mind, perhaps we could call it a day?”
“Of course,” Suresh agreed, “I’m sorry, I’ve kept you so long. Where are you and Hiro staying? We’ll need to continue the work.”
“I think we’re staying in Japan,” Adam said, then frowned, looking around. Cold unease trickled down his spine when he realized he hadn’t seen Hiro for hours.
“Over there,” Suresh said, pointing, and Adam relaxed when he spotted Hiro slumped over a table by the wall, fast asleep.
“It’s been a long day,” Adam explained. “Or night? We were in Japan and it was morning, but we came here and it was night.”
“Jet lag,” Suresh said, and Adam did his agreeable nod again. He’d learned that if he asked, or gave a blank look, Suresh would happily explain and that got very tiresome.
“But you aren’t tired?” Suresh asked curiously.
“Not really. I don’t seem to sleep much.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t,” Suresh mused. “Sleep is, at least in part, a restorative process and your body restores itself without any help. What about food? Do you get hungry?”
“Some,” Adam said. “More when I have to heal.”
“Of course,” Suresh replied. “Conservation of matter dictates that your body cannot produce something from nothing. You have to consume food to give your body the building blocks.”
Adam nodded, already moving to Hiro’s side. He perched on the table, considered for a moment, and then rested a hand on the back of Hiro’s neck. The doctor already knew, and Adam thought if he had to adapt to this new world and submit to being a test subject, he at least deserved to enjoy the freedoms the future offered.
Leaning down, he murmured in Hiro’s ear, “Come on, carp. Time to go home.”
Hiro made a soft sound and twitched, batting at Adam’s hand. Adam chuckled and shifted higher, carding through Hiro’s hair, fine and soft against his palm. Hiro’s back rose and fell steadily as he breathed, the back of his neck bare and vulnerable, and Adam traced the line of his throat with a fingertip, feeling the pulse beneath the fragile skin.
An injury that would be a mere annoyance to Adam would just as easily kill Hiro in an instant, and yet there he was, asleep in a strange place, defenseless, unafraid. The irony was that Hiro actually thought Adam was the brave one.
He glanced up warily, but Suresh was across the room, busying himself by cleaning up, obviously giving them privacy. Smiling, Adam dropped a kiss on Hiro’s nape, then a line of them along his shoulder, tugging aside his shirt. Hiro made a kind of breathless whuffling noise and squirmed in his seat.
Adam picked up one of his hands and held it curled in his. He smoothed each finger out flat, tracing the fine bones, drawing the Godsend symbol with a fingertip in Hiro’s palm. Then he brought the hand to his mouth and kissed each knuckle, mouthing the soft web of skin between his thumb and forefinger. When he drew a fingertip into his mouth and flicked the tip with his tongue, Hiro shifted and mumbled, his hand twitching in Adam’s grasp.
Adam picked up the other hand and did it again, drawing the forefinger in and curling his tongue around it, sucking gently. Hiro moaned and the fingers on his free hand splayed out wide, then drew into a fist. Adam grinned, nipped with his teeth, and Hiro jerked awake with a gasp, wide eyed and confused, a flush of color in hectic patches on his cheeks.
“What?” he said. “Kensei?”
“Adam,” he chided around his mouthful.
“What are you... oh...” Hiro watched for a moment, then closed his eyes and bit his lip, his breath catching in his throat.
Adam let him go, brushing one more kiss to his palm, and Hiro shivered. “Ready to go home?” Adam asked.
Hiro nodded rapidly. “Are you done with Dr. Suresh?”
“For now,” Adam said. “He wants us to come back tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Hiro agreed readily. “As long as we can go home tonight.” He stood and put a hand on Adam’s arm, but then paused, looking over his shoulder.
Adam spun, his hand already reaching for the sword that wasn’t there. Standing a few feet away and watching them was a man in a suit, middle aged, balding, with a soft middle, pudgy cheeks, and glasses. He looked entirely harmless. Adam thought it was the ones who looked harmless that you had to watch.
“Adam, Hiro,” he said pleasantly, “good to meet you. If you don’t mind, could you stay a little bit longer? There’s just one last favor we need.”
“And you are?” Adam asked.
The man smiled. “Call me Bob.”
~~~
Thanks for reading, and happy Saturday! ♥
Chapter Five
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
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
~~~
Part 4
By the time morning came to the city, Kensei had learned several things about the future. He found out that people and cars moved together in very specific patterns, and if either one moved out of turn, it was loudly chastised by the other. He’d learned that he liked elevators, but hated the subway. He’d learned that people were on the streets night and day, and they always seemed to be going somewhere with great impatience. And he learned that Hiro, after walking all night and still stuck in a leftover sleep cycle from several hundred years ago, grew sleepy and soft-eyed and tended to lean against him a lot more.
It was not hard to choose which piece of new knowledge he liked the best.
Hiro insisted there was one more thing they had to see before going to meet his father, and Kensei followed along willingly. They were near to where they’d started, he thought, going by the way the buildings were packed close together, towering over them, shimmering glass and stone giants in the morning sun.
Hiro took them into one (Kensei wrestled briefly with the revolving glass door, but defeated it after going around twice) and they were in a wide, high room, all sleek marble floors, echoing footsteps, and rivers of people. They headed for the elevators, and Kensei smiled at the now familiar swoop of ascent, Hiro’s back leaning against his chest in the small, crowded space that was somehow not so confining with him there.
They took it up as far as it would go, and then there was a hallway, another elevator, and a stairwell, all going up. “Where are we going?” Kensei asked, eying the stairs beneath them. “The top of the world?”
Hiro nodded. “Close to it.” Then he pushed open a door and they stepped out into daylight. There was a flat concrete deck, a thick railing surrounding it, and beyond that, the city laid out at their feet.
“Oh,” Kensei said softly, leaning against the rail. The tops of buildings were all around them, the streets stretching out in an intricate maze of corners and lights, the ever present sound of traffic and people drifting in a muted murmur from below. The wind was strong, buffeting them both, whipping Hiro’s hair around his head in tufts and flapping his jacket open. Kensei pressed against his side, sharing warmth, and Hiro leaned in, taking a deep breath.
“The Empire State Building,” he said. “I wanted to see it last time we were in New York, but there was never time.”
Kensei nodded, although the title meant nothing to him. “I never would have seen this,” he said. “Never would have seen any of this, if not for you.”
Hiro smiled shyly and said nothing, and they walked slowly around the deck. They weren’t the only ones enjoying the view; Kensei saw the same wide mix of people that seemed to be everywhere in this city. It was strange after a lifetime of seeing people clumped together in groups of their own, to see so many different ages and colors and languages in one place. He supposed that was another way the future was different.
Kensei could have spent a long time looking at the city, at the intricate pattern of life flowing through it and the people within, but Hiro was starting to shiver in the wind and he knew he couldn’t put off meeting Hiro’s father forever. So he steered them back toward the stairwell, and once they were hidden from view, Hiro took them away.
They appeared beside a granite column, tucked in its shadow, and Kensei saw a wide courtyard with a fountain in the center, and a strange red spiral staircase that led nowhere, sitting in the water. Like everywhere else in the city, people were bustling by, crossing the courtyard on their way somewhere; the man sitting on a bench by the fountain was unique merely be being still.
Hiro squeezed his hand briefly, then let it go, and Kensei saw him take a deep breath. As they approached, Kensei found himself evaluating the man as he would an enemy in battle. He was older than most men Kensei had seen, but then most didn’t live much past forty in the world he’d grown up in. He held himself upright, tightly disciplined, and although he seemed to read a newspaper, his eyes flicked up regularly to watch his surroundings. He struck Kensei as formidable, which explained a lot about Hiro’s persistence and dogged determination. He would have had to be so, to grow up in that man’s house.
He saw their approach, his face softening to a smile, and stood to meet them. “Father,” Hiro said, obviously trying so hard to maintain a certain decorum, his eyes giving him away.
“Hiro,” he replied, clapping a hand briskly on Hiro’s shoulder. “You’ve returned.”
Hiro gave a short bow and nodded. Kensei stayed a few steps back, watching.
“Where have you been?” Hiro’s father asked.
“Japan, 1671,” Hiro replied, which answered one question for Kensei. Obviously his father knew about his ability.
“The time of Takezo Kensei,” he said, and Hiro nodded, waving Kensei forward.
“Yes, and I brought him with me!”
That brought the conversation to an awkward halt.
Hiro’s father stared at him, then at Hiro. “This is Takezo Kensei?”
“I didn’t believe it either at first,” Hiro said, “but it is really him! We defeated White Beard together, and saved Japan.” Then, as an afterthought, he said, “Oh, Kensei, this is my father, Kaito Nakamura.”
Kensei hesitated, then gave a short bow. Kaito regarded him impassively for a long moment, made a low, disapproving hum, and then turned to Hiro. “You must tell me everything.”
Hiro nodded eagerly, and started with falling into an open field during an eclipse. He explained how he had saved the man he’d thought was Kensei, but then met the real Kensei. “I was so surprised when he took off his mask,” Hiro said. “And it turned out I had stopped him from defeating the men in the field. I thought I broke history, but we fixed it.”
They sat by the fountain and Hiro wove the tale of their adventures, Kensei filling in pieces on occasion. It had already become obvious that Hiro didn’t intend to tell his father anything about their personal relationship, but Kensei thought he might not need to say it in so many words.
The way he kept looking at Kensei when describing some supposedly heroic deed he’d pulled off, or his cleverness at outsmarting his enemies, or the way the swordsmith’s daughter had fallen immediately in love with him... well. Kaito was clearly not a foolish man. That, combined with the all too visible love bite on Hiro’s neck from their indiscretion in the fitting room, had to tell him all he needed to know.
“So Kensei offered his heart to the dragon, just like in the stories,” Hiro said, wrapping up. “The dragon took it, and Yaeko was saved, and so was Japan.”
Kaito absorbed that for a moment, then turned to Kensei. “An ordinary man could not have survived the trials of Takezo Kensei, nor the loss of his heart.”
Kensei nodded ruefully. He’d had a feeling Kaito would catch on fast. “No,” he agreed. “Hiro called it a gift.”
“Yes, he has a power,” Hiro said. “Like I do! Only he cannot bend time and space. But he can heal from any wound!”
Kaito raised one eyebrow thoughtfully. “That is a valuable gift.” Turning to Hiro, he said, “That explains how he survived. What it does not answer is why you chose to bring him into our time.”
“Oh,” Hiro said, shifting uneasily. He looked at Kensei for help, his expression and the telltale flush spreading on his face giving him away once again.
“They thought I was dead,” Kensei said, although it was quite obvious that Kaito already knew why Hiro had brought him. Still, if the man wanted a rational explanation to hold on to, Kensei would offer him one. “I couldn’t very well stay there and show up walking around, perfectly fine the next day.”
Kaito made another of those disapproving hums. “It was ill-advised, Hiro,” he said. “You could have changed the future by doing this.”
Hiro wilted a little, but didn’t give in. “Four months ago, I was a part of changing the future, and that is why this city is still here, why all these people are still alive,” he said. “Not all change is for the worse, Father. Maybe this is a different future than if Kensei had stayed in the past, yes. Maybe it is a better future.”
“Perhaps,” Kaito said. “But that does not change the fact that he is here now.” He looked skeptically at Kensei. “If you intend to stay, you will need an identity. You cannot continue to be Takezo Kensei.”
That was easy enough for Kensei to understand; he’d changed his own identity more than once. “I’m from England originally,” he said. “My given name was Adam Monroe.”
“So it will be again,” Kaito agreed. “You will need documentation. I can have that made for you, if you will agree to grant a small favor.”
“Father,” Hiro scolded, frowning. “Kensei is my friend.”
“It’s no trouble,” Kensei said quickly. He hadn’t known Kaito long, but he’d known enough men like him to understand that a request for a favor was not a request at all.
“Good,” Kaito said. “There are people I know who would be very interested in your ability, and the chance to study it. A man working for our group has a lab here in the city; his name is Dr. Suresh. I want you to go see him.”
Once he’d given them the address, Kaito rose to his feet, and they followed suit. “We have to go right now?” Hiro asked a little plaintively.
“It is important work,” Kaito replied. “And I must return to Japan. I will remain in contact,” he added, with a glance at Kensei. Kensei met his eyes and nodded, understanding the implication. Kaito would be watching him. Kensei thought that for deflowering the man’s only son, he’d gotten off lightly.
Kaito and Hiro said their farewells, and then he was striding off across the plaza, cutting an effortless path through the crowd. Hiro looked over at Kensei and offered a relieved smile. “I think he liked you.”
“Well, he didn’t try to take my head off,” Kensei replied. “That’s something.”
Hiro nodded. Then he wrinkled his nose and said, “Adam Monroe? Really?”
“Really. I suppose I’ll have to get used to using it again.”
“You will always be Takezo Kensei,” Hiro said firmly.
Kensei chuckled and cast Hiro a sidelong glance. “Does that mean you’ll always be... what did you call it? My biggest fan?”
“Of course,” Hiro said, like he shouldn’t even need to ask, and Kensei thought whatever his other future might have been, he didn’t care. He was keeping this one.
~~~
When Hiro got a closer look at the address they were supposed to go to, a cold sense of unease settled over him. It was Mr. Isaac’s address, the man who had written the comic book that told his future. The man Sylar had killed. Hiro had felt it before since discovering his powers; that sense of connection and pattern, of coincidence, but not really.
“What?” Kensei (Adam, Hiro reminded himself) asked.
“I have been there before,” Hiro said. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m sure,” Kensei (Adam) replied dryly.
Hiro nodded and led them around the corner of the building, out of sight. They didn’t have enough money left for a cab and he was too tired and his feet too sore to walk, and the New York public transit system continued to baffle him, so that left his usual shortcut. A breath later they were standing outside the door of the loft.
Hiro knocked, then pushed the door open when there was no response. “Dr. Suresh?” he called out. “Hello?”
They advanced into the room, and Adam caught Hiro by the arm, pulling him back a step as they reached the edge of the painting on the floor. “Is that the bomb you were talking about?” he asked.
Hiro nodded. “I saw a future where it happened.”
“Not a pleasant one, I take it.”
“No,” Hiro replied. “I met future-me. He was scary.”
“Scary? You?”
“He was,” Hiro insisted. “He had killed too many. It changed him.”
“Yes, it does,” Adam agreed softly.
Hiro touched his hand, stroking his thumb over Adam’s knuckles. “Kensei?”
“Adam,” he corrected. “And that must be the good doctor.”
Hiro glanced up at the man approaching them. Dr. Suresh turned out to be not what he was expecting. Young, with a scruffy growth of beard and what looked like a recently broken nose, wearing jeans under a white lab coat. “They told me you were coming,” he said. “Hiro and Adam, right?”
Hiro nearly corrected him, but caught himself and nodded.
“Adam Monroe,” Adam said, sticking out his hand. Hiro watched them shake hands, startled by how fast it had happened, Adam dropping the Japanese mannerisms and even smoothing his English accent so it was less noticeable, more American. He had the feeling this wasn’t the first time he’d had to become someone else.
“Good to meet you,” Suresh said, returning Hiro’s nod. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I’ll do my best to answer them for you.”
“Well,” Adam spread his hands, “I understand I’m supposed to help with some work you’re doing, but I’m not sure what it is.”
Suresh nodded. “Right. I’m working on a cure for a virus, a very specific strain of virus that only affects people like yourself and Hiro. People with special abilities, and a certain genetic marker.”
Adam gave a slow blink, and then raised his eyebrows at Hiro. “He means a sickness,” Hiro said. “Only people with special powers can get it.” To Suresh, he added, “Kens... I mean, Adam, is from the sixteenth century. I don’t think they knew about viruses.”
“Oh,” Suresh said. He took a moment to absorb that, and then shrugged. “I suppose I’ve seen stranger things. To put it simply, it’s very rare, and up until a short while ago the antibodies in my blood were the only known cure. But there’s a mutated version that my blood can no longer cure, and that’s what I’m working on. With your ability to regenerate, you may have exactly the natural immunity I need.”
“Ah, right,” Adam said. “So what do I do?”
“We’ll start with some simple tests, just to gauge your abilities. Yours too,” Suresh added to Hiro. “I understand you can travel through time?”
“And space,” Hiro agreed. “Like this.” And he blinked out, reappearing on the other side of the room.
“Amazing,” Suresh said, smiling. “We’ll definitely look at that in more detail. For now, though, the cure is the priority so I’ll need to work with Adam first.”
Hiro nodded and followed them into the lab, which turned out to be a cluster of benches and complicated equipment stuck incongruously in the middle of the loft. He watched as Adam sliced his arm with a scalpel, Suresh widening his eyes in alarm at the blood until it was wiped away, the cut sealing itself. Hiro had seen the trick plenty of times, and he didn’t especially like watching Adam hurt anyway, so he poked around the lab a little, bored.
Behind him, Suresh was speculating about whether Adam could regrow missing limbs, and Adam said he’d rather not find out the hard way that he couldn’t. Hiro found a machine with a wide array of buttons and dials and thought it looked like a console from the Enterprise. Curiously, he pressed a couple, until the machine made an irritable beep and Suresh asked him to not do that.
Hiro sighed and sat on a stool for a little while, watching Suresh and Adam. The tests seemed to mainly consist on taking several blood samples and putting them into various spinning and beeping machines, and then asking endless questions.
“Do broken bones take longer to heal?”
“No, about the same.”
“Is there a limit to how much blood loss you can recover from?”
“If there is, I haven’t gotten there yet.”
“What about head injuries?”
“The occasional bump and knock, certainly. I’ve never had it cut off... I imagine that one would be permanent.”
“Have you ever actually died and come back?”
“Often.”
“What is it like?”
“Like... dying. It’s hard to explain.”
“What’s your approximate age?”
At that one, Adam paused, and Hiro was glad he could finally do something. “When I saw your sword in the museum, it said you were born in 1584,” he said. “So if I found you in 1671...” He frowned, shaking his head. “No, that doesn’t work. You’d be almost ninety. The museum must have it wrong.”
“History misses all kinds of details,” Adam said, offering Hiro a conspirator’s grin, and Hiro pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.
Suresh didn’t seem inclined to drop the subject. “So you weren’t born in 1584? What year was it, then?”
Adam shrugged. “I’ve lost track.”
“Lost track,” Suresh echoed. “Of how many years you’ve lived?”
“It’s not the same as it is now,” Adam replied. “I see how everyone here is always hurrying, always looking at the time, at the day. Time is so important here, but where I came from... when I came from? It just wasn’t that critical.”
“Okay, I understand, but could you give me an estimate? Thirty, forty, fifty years? More?”
Adam shifted and blew an irritated breath through his teeth. “I told you, I lost track. Why does it matter?”
“If your cells can regenerate, if they don’t die, the aging process may not be the same for you,” Suresh said. “You could appear about twenty-five, as you do now, and actually be much older. It’s an important part of your ability, because if you can heal from any wound and if you don’t age, you’d be functionally immortal.”
Hiro sat up straight, watching Adam, who didn’t meet his eyes, and oh, it explained so much. The way he fell so easily into changing his identity, the suggestions that he’d made of living in many ways, in many places, the way he’d effortlessly been able to read Hiro, to know things about him Hiro hadn’t even admitted to himself. It spoke of a long study of human behavior, of experience. Of time.
“You knew?” Hiro asked, and it felt like a hard punch to the chest, knocking the air from him, the thought that Adam had known all along about his gift, that he’d lied.
“No, I didn’t,” Adam said, going to him, slipping a hand around his arm. “I knew I didn’t seem to grow old the way those around me did, but I didn’t know I could heal. Not until that day with the arrows, with you. I fought dirty, remember? So I didn’t get hurt.”
Hiro nodded; he could remember how surprised Adam had been that day, how spooked and uncertain. “And are you really almost a hundred years old?”
Adam shrugged. “Give or take a few. I really did lose track.”
“Remarkable,” Suresh said, beaming. “If Hiro had left you in the past, you realize you could still be alive today?”
Adam nodded slowly, a strange, melancholy expression drawing down his face for a moment. “That is a long time to wait,” he said.
It took Hiro a little while to understand that, and when he did, when it sank in that Adam would have waited over four hundred years for him, he had to sit very still and count to ten and restrain the urge to pounce on Adam and squeeze him breathless. Fortunately both Adam and Suresh were looking at red circles swimming on a computer screen by then, and didn’t notice.
Hiro watched for a little while, and tried to follow the discussion, but it was mainly Suresh explaining basic medical terms and the slow, hypnotic swish of the cells on the screen, and he found himself yawning, his eyes heavy, his head aching with tiredness. So he got up and wandered around, looking at the paintings that remained, and eventually he sank down in a chair behind a small table near the windows.
When he looked up, he realized this was where he’d sat when the police questioned him, the first time he’d seen the future. That was what... four months ago? Five? Both, sort of, since it was four months in real time, but longer for him personally. And thinking about the logistics was not helping his headache.
Still, not that long. It was hard to believe that had been him, barely speaking English, utterly unable to control his power, so excited about saving the world. He had thought it would be a wonderful adventure. Hiro looked down at his hands, remembering holding the sword so tight his fingers ached, and the way it had felt going into Sylar, the horribly easy slide of sharp, smooth metal against flesh and bone, the way his eyes had gone so wide and blood rimmed his lips.
It had been an adventure. Hiro wasn’t so sure it had been wonderful.
His eyes stung, and Hiro decided it must be the bright sunshine streaming through the windows, so he folded his arms on the table and put his head down, grateful for the darkness. He reminded himself to take his glasses off so they wouldn’t press a line into his cheek, but was asleep before he could finish the thought.
~~~
Most of the time the things Suresh said made little to no sense to Adam, but he nodded and allowed himself to be poked and prodded and watched pictures on one of those moving screens. Eventually they got some results which Suresh seemed very excited about, pointing at the screen. “Do you see?” he asked, and Adam nodded again, although all he saw was more meaningless blobs of color.
“The damaged cells are actually being repaired,” Suresh said. “This is more than prevention, its actual healing. A small amount of your blood could be more than the cure to this virus. It could be a cure for cancer, for AIDS, for... well, anything. And you see, the cells are multiplying! They’re actually replicating themselves with more healthy cells.”
“Right,” Adam said, tapping a row of glass tubes and listening to them clink together. “And that’s good?”
“It’s incredible! People could regrow organs with this. No more waiting for years on a transplant list. It could cure paralysis, Parkinson’s... maybe even inborn genetic defects, like down syndrome or cerebral palsy.”
Adam nodded again and wondered when this would be over, so he could get back to exploring the future with Hiro. When Suresh didn’t say anything else for a long stretch, he glanced up and found the doctor watching him.
“What?” he asked.
“None of this means anything to you, does it?” Suresh said. “I’m sorry, I just assumed... a lot has changed in four hundred years. These things I’m talking about, they are terrible diseases. They kill millions every year. And your blood could be the cure.”
“Millions,” Adam echoed. “That’s a lot of blood.”
“Well, of course, not directly your blood,” Suresh agreed. “Even with your ability to regenerate, you could never make enough to meet the need. We have to find a way to replicate it, to produce it in mass quantities. But for now, I have the cure for the virus, which means you’ve saved at least one life already.”
“Glad to hear it,” Adam replied, thinking he should probably mean that. But it wasn’t as if he’d done anything heroic; he’d just been lucky enough to be born with magic blood.
“In fact,” Suresh said thoughtfully, “maybe we should try a human trial.”
“Not Hiro,” Adam said sharply, and Suresh gave him a confused look.
“Of course not Hiro, he’s not sick.” He paused, frowning. “Is he?”
“No, I just... I don’t want you experimenting on him.”
“Ah.” Suresh nodded knowingly. “I understand.”
Adam clenched his teeth and looked away, annoyed with himself. And he’d cautioned Hiro against giving himself away too easily? Of all people, he should really know better. When he looked back, Suresh was busy with a vial of his blood, loading it into one of those needle tipped tubes.
“Here we go,” Suresh said, and then injected the blood into his own arm.
Adam raised his eyebrows. “Is that a good idea?”
“I hope so.” Suresh held a cotton ball to the puncture, watching his arm as if he expected it to change color. “Your blood is free of diseases, and you’re O negative, the universal donor, so at worst I’ve just had a small transfusion. But if it works like I think it will...” He paused, then removed the cotton ball. His skin was perfectly smooth, the needle mark already gone.
“I think it’s working,” Adam said, watching the bruising around the doctor’s broken nose fade, then disappear, the skin smoothing along the straight bone beneath.
Suresh grinned and pulled the tape off his face, taking a deep breath. “It certainly feels good to do that again,” he said. He rubbed his fingertips over the healed skin, nodding. Then he drew a bit of his own blood, carefully labeling the tube with the time and date. “I’ll have to do several follow up tests,” he explained, “to make sure there aren’t negative long term affects. But based on these results I don’t believe there will be.”
“Great,” Adam said. “Now, if you don’t mind, perhaps we could call it a day?”
“Of course,” Suresh agreed, “I’m sorry, I’ve kept you so long. Where are you and Hiro staying? We’ll need to continue the work.”
“I think we’re staying in Japan,” Adam said, then frowned, looking around. Cold unease trickled down his spine when he realized he hadn’t seen Hiro for hours.
“Over there,” Suresh said, pointing, and Adam relaxed when he spotted Hiro slumped over a table by the wall, fast asleep.
“It’s been a long day,” Adam explained. “Or night? We were in Japan and it was morning, but we came here and it was night.”
“Jet lag,” Suresh said, and Adam did his agreeable nod again. He’d learned that if he asked, or gave a blank look, Suresh would happily explain and that got very tiresome.
“But you aren’t tired?” Suresh asked curiously.
“Not really. I don’t seem to sleep much.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t,” Suresh mused. “Sleep is, at least in part, a restorative process and your body restores itself without any help. What about food? Do you get hungry?”
“Some,” Adam said. “More when I have to heal.”
“Of course,” Suresh replied. “Conservation of matter dictates that your body cannot produce something from nothing. You have to consume food to give your body the building blocks.”
Adam nodded, already moving to Hiro’s side. He perched on the table, considered for a moment, and then rested a hand on the back of Hiro’s neck. The doctor already knew, and Adam thought if he had to adapt to this new world and submit to being a test subject, he at least deserved to enjoy the freedoms the future offered.
Leaning down, he murmured in Hiro’s ear, “Come on, carp. Time to go home.”
Hiro made a soft sound and twitched, batting at Adam’s hand. Adam chuckled and shifted higher, carding through Hiro’s hair, fine and soft against his palm. Hiro’s back rose and fell steadily as he breathed, the back of his neck bare and vulnerable, and Adam traced the line of his throat with a fingertip, feeling the pulse beneath the fragile skin.
An injury that would be a mere annoyance to Adam would just as easily kill Hiro in an instant, and yet there he was, asleep in a strange place, defenseless, unafraid. The irony was that Hiro actually thought Adam was the brave one.
He glanced up warily, but Suresh was across the room, busying himself by cleaning up, obviously giving them privacy. Smiling, Adam dropped a kiss on Hiro’s nape, then a line of them along his shoulder, tugging aside his shirt. Hiro made a kind of breathless whuffling noise and squirmed in his seat.
Adam picked up one of his hands and held it curled in his. He smoothed each finger out flat, tracing the fine bones, drawing the Godsend symbol with a fingertip in Hiro’s palm. Then he brought the hand to his mouth and kissed each knuckle, mouthing the soft web of skin between his thumb and forefinger. When he drew a fingertip into his mouth and flicked the tip with his tongue, Hiro shifted and mumbled, his hand twitching in Adam’s grasp.
Adam picked up the other hand and did it again, drawing the forefinger in and curling his tongue around it, sucking gently. Hiro moaned and the fingers on his free hand splayed out wide, then drew into a fist. Adam grinned, nipped with his teeth, and Hiro jerked awake with a gasp, wide eyed and confused, a flush of color in hectic patches on his cheeks.
“What?” he said. “Kensei?”
“Adam,” he chided around his mouthful.
“What are you... oh...” Hiro watched for a moment, then closed his eyes and bit his lip, his breath catching in his throat.
Adam let him go, brushing one more kiss to his palm, and Hiro shivered. “Ready to go home?” Adam asked.
Hiro nodded rapidly. “Are you done with Dr. Suresh?”
“For now,” Adam said. “He wants us to come back tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Hiro agreed readily. “As long as we can go home tonight.” He stood and put a hand on Adam’s arm, but then paused, looking over his shoulder.
Adam spun, his hand already reaching for the sword that wasn’t there. Standing a few feet away and watching them was a man in a suit, middle aged, balding, with a soft middle, pudgy cheeks, and glasses. He looked entirely harmless. Adam thought it was the ones who looked harmless that you had to watch.
“Adam, Hiro,” he said pleasantly, “good to meet you. If you don’t mind, could you stay a little bit longer? There’s just one last favor we need.”
“And you are?” Adam asked.
The man smiled. “Call me Bob.”
~~~
Thanks for reading, and happy Saturday! ♥
Chapter Five