Spoilers: arcs up to and including Celes
Blanket warnings for the whole fic: rated M for sex + trigger warning for failed attempts at dub-con. Other than that, it generally is a T rating.

A/N 1: This is the sequel to 'when flight falls short', part of the Sword to My Shield series. This Yama fic can be read on its own, though you might want to read the previous arcs for a better understanding of events/character motivations.

A/N 2: To the speechless guest (I don't have any other way to contact you!) I hope you managed to find this next arc, since it isn't grouped with 'when flight falls short'. Thank you so much for the lovely review! Unfortunately, the Yama arc doesn't really contain much interaction with the kids. There might be a surprise coming up though ;)

Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle and its characters do not belong to me.

ink, fire and fiddle

Chapter 1: The Storm

The morning began like it had done for the past five days: full of low grunts and coarse-sounding language, the stomping of feet into boots and pieces of armor being strapped on. It was otherwise dim in the tent, and lonely for how much noise there was surrounding him. He didn't understand any of it. So, he chose to lay still until their attention passed over him.

What seemed like an age later, Fai pulled his thin pillow off his head and rolled out of his cot, scrubbing at his eyes. It was still early, gloomier than usual, and already, most of the soldiers had left for breakfast.

A low grumble came from his right. He turned, waved brightly at Kurogane, who was seated cross-legged in his own wood-and-canvas cot, dressed for the day and polishing Souhi with single-minded efficiency. "Good morning, Kuro-sir," he whispered. It felt good to say something.

Kurogane frowned. He leaned forward, pursed his lips, and pointed at them. Shut up.

They had figured early on that it was best for Fai to remain silent in this world. Without Mokona in range, and with neither hide nor hair of the children in sight, they were stuck here, struggling to communicate while they waited for some sign of those familiar faces.

(Both he and Kurogane were worried about the kids, even if the ninja refused to admit to it.)

It was a sheer blessing that Kurogane could even speak to the people of Yama Country at all, even if he stumbled over the words sometimes. Unlike Fai, Kurogane had little trouble fitting in. He had dark skin, dark hair, spoke like they did and ate with chopsticks.

Fai smiled to reassure the other that he understood, then began to dress, fumbling a little with his armor.

The different pieces and materials were a pain to assemble. They were thick, heavy, and Fai couldn't do without them, not when the people here (soldiers and fruit sellers alike) looked at him like he didn't quite belong. The armor was a sign that he was one of their own, that he could defend himself, even if his pale skin and blond hair set him apart from the rest of the population. It hid him, too. He wasn't all that fond of showing skin.

All the same, it was stifling to have to keep silent all day. Fai was used to joking with Mokona and the children (and even Kurogane), and before that, he'd always had a companion to converse with, be it Chii, Ashura, or any of the guards in the Celesian palace.

It struck him suddenly, days late, that he wasn't entirely without another means of communication. (Brush and paper were so rare to come by on the camp, after all.)

He turned back to Kurogane, eyes fever-bright, and grabbed the slim dagger stashed in his boot. Fai settled himself into the narrow stretch of compact dirt between his bunk and Kurogane's, began scratching quick lines into the ground. Kurogane squawked in protest—no one in their right mind would destroy a weapon like that.

But the end product was something even the ninja couldn't scoff at: a rough sketch of Big Kitty and Big Doggy from their days in Outo. Except the tones weren't filled in—it was much easier to draw just the outlines and facial expressions of their cartoon representations.

Kurogane narrowed his eyes when Fai looked back at him, triumphant. He brushed Big Kitty's paw into obscurity, then sketched it holding a slice of cake on a plate.

The ninja snorted and rolled his eyes, but there was a smirk tugging at his lips.

His reaction was comforting in a way Fai couldn't explain. Perhaps it was because Kurogane had only worn a frown the entire week they'd been here. Perhaps it was because he'd discovered a whole new way to annoy the man.

He sat back and proceeded to sketch Little Kitty, Little Puppy and Mokona, then raised his eyebrows. Kurogane shook his head. Fai took that to mean there wasn't any news of them and sighed, scuffing the drawings into the dirt when he stood.

There was something taut in the air today, more apparent after they'd stepped out of the meal tent—a slight, electric buzz, the faintest whiff of ozone that hadn't been around before breakfast. Fai frowned, tapped Kurogane lightly on the arm. The warrior's expression was severe; he had felt it too.

Far out on the horizon, beyond the forests and rice fields that surrounded the military camp, a distant blanket of cloud hovered just beyond the hills that separated Yama Country from the wilderness. It seemed benign enough, fluffy-white and tall, and there was hardly any wind at all. It didn't feel natural; at the same time, the tension was not one of magical energy.

Fai raised his hands, brought his wriggling fingers down in an imitation of raindrops. Rain?

The look Kurogane sent him was one of annoyed resignation. He shrugged. Don't know. Don't care.

They were learning to read each other. How they were picking up on these things so quickly, Fai didn't want to know. He chalked it up to something that occurred out of necessity and left it at that.

They made their way over to the practice grounds, where scores of other soldiers were already sparring with each other, drawing up clouds of dust with their feet as they countered arcing strikes with gleaming steel swords.

Fai picked a spear from a crate of practice weapons, while Kurogane passed over Souhi in favor of a broadsword. Their fight began almost immediately; Fai launched a strike, Kurogane parried, forcing him backwards with nimble footwork in an attempt to weave through his defense. In this manner, they meandered through the metallic clanging, keeping an eye out for the fights going on around them while they exchanged blows, neither yielding to the other.

These drills always came after breakfast. Fai kept close to Kurogane, largely because that was what the ninja wanted, rather than him being incapable of facing off with the other soldiers. He could speak with expressions—a challenging look, surprise, friendliness. It had been a relief to be able to shed the ankle splint without consequence (two weeks of recuperation in Shara Country had helped very much) and resume his previous mobility.

He had not been able to hide his proficiency with weapons from Kurogane, however. To be accepted into Yasha's army, Fai first had to prove his worth among the soldiers. He had taken whatever weapon they'd thrown at him and fought with it—bow, spear, sword, dagger. There had been no leeway for false pretenses, and Ashura had trained him well.

Kurogane had been quietly impressed. It was harder to read the warrior when his eyes weren't red, though that intent look had spawned little flutters in Fai's belly that he was sure had no right to be there.

(He had noticed the attention from some of the other soldiers too, but shelved the information for later consideration.)

So, Fai could hold his own where fighting was concerned. Kurogane knew that. Yet, Kurogane scowled whenever Fai left his field of sight, to the point of being almost possessive when he elbowed his way back into Fai's immediate vicinity.

It was cute, he would allow that. And Fai didn't attempt to slip away from Kurogane without good reason, either.

The day passed in relative peace. By nightfall, the buzz in the air had grown stronger. Thick clouds hovered low above the land, purple like bruises and carrying with them a chill that made the arthritic swear. The storm clouds had not gone unnoticed; the soldiers' movements were a lot more hurried than usual.

Fai sharpened and checked the weapons with Kurogane while others moved around them, readying emergency medical kits, water, and other supplies for their nightly battle. Preparations had been made to guard against a possible flood—supplies and furniture were lashed to sturdy trees, and tents were collapsed and secured. When the swords and spears were all accounted for, he turned to the warrior, bumped his arm and nodded towards the sky. Even the Moon Castle wasn't visible past the clouds.

Kurogane lifted a shoulder, said something in his language. Fai looked blankly at him. The other sighed, picked a sword up, gestured between them. We fight.

Fai frowned, pointed at the sky. Even with that?

A nod. Kurogane lifted the sword by a notch to cement his point.

Lightning lit the clouds up from within, turning them into momentary wispy lanterns. The air was damp, and if it weren't for the cool of night, Fai was certain that he would have been sweating in this humidity. He nudged Kurogane again, pulled his slim dagger out so he could sketch in the ground once more: various circles to represent a sea of people, clouds, rain, and sweeping lines of water that washed over the army.

Kurogane pressed his lips into a thin line, lifted the sword once more. He crouched down beside Fai, however, took the dagger, and attempted to draw a few tents (the city) with sandbags stacked up in a wall around them.

Fai looked uncertainly back to the clouds, shrugged. It was one thing to be prepared for a flood, and another to be teleported from the battlefield right into flooded territory.

Kurogane pointed first to the soldiers around them, then the sketch, and shook his head. He jabbed a finger at the surrounding forest. Army thinks there won't be a flood. The forest is enough to stop the water.

Even with their preparations, Fai wasn't convinced. Kurogane cuffed him lightly on the chin with a resigned huff. He kicked dirt onto the drawings, then pointed to Fai's hand, and mimicked drawing in the air.

Horrified, he stared at the ninja, shook his head. He wasn't using his magic, not here. He wasn't going to risk Ashura waking up. (The Ashura of this world did not possess that familiar magic, much to Fai's relief.) And as much as Yasha felt like the magic from Sakura's feather, all warm and wholesome, there were no other instances of magic in this country, save for their nightly journey to the castle in the sky. For using magic, he could be persecuted (just like he was so many years ago)—

Fai shook his thoughts away. They were going to fight at the Moon Castle. Maybe they would stumble upon the children and Mokona once they were there. With any luck, they'd be out of this world before the storm hit.

The easy way out was hardly ever an option, of course.

It was fascinating, the way Kurogane fought. Fai had noticed that the warrior had not yet dealt any immediately-fatal blows. All through the times they spent in other worlds, Kurogane's modus operandi had been to incapacitate even the worst of threats. He had to know about the seal in his forehead, then, the one which would lower his strength when he killed, and the very same which protected him from fatal attacks. Fai wondered if Kurogane had always worn that seal.

To remain a worthy soldier in Yasha's army required visible results on the battlefield. Kurogane did this by injuring his opponents to such an extent that they did not perish immediately—they died of blood loss within a half hour, when there was no time for their enemies to save the wounded. Coupled with blows to the head, his opponents were rendered unconscious, and he easily took down thrice as many men as the next soldier did.

As much as he could, Fai stayed by Kurogane's side.

He had only meant to do so because he preferred using the bow in combat (it wasn't as terrible as feeling the give of flesh and crunch of bone beneath his hands), and enemies who got too close could be swept up by Kurogane, who saw fit to cut them down before they posed a real threat. Fai wasn't complaining about that. Kurogane saving him meant leaving openings in his own defense, however, and Fai had stepped in once, then twice to mend those holes.

Before long, Kurogane was leaving inexplicable gaps where it came to protecting himself. It bewildered Fai, who had covered them hastily—there wasn't any way Kurogane was sustaining an injury because of him. Five days and plenty hours of battle later, they had learned each other's movements and rhythms, and it felt right fighting back-to-back. Fai took distant opponents down; Kurogane handled the ones who got too close, and between them, their footwork had changed to accommodate the other in an intricate, flowing dance.

It wasn't until the end of the battle that day that Fai remembered the storm threat back in Yama. Worried, he turned to Kurogane, who had crouched over a fallen soldier to ensure that he seemed sufficiently dead.

"Kuro-ris," he whispered, barely moving his mouth.

Kurogane snapped his head up nonetheless, angling a glare at him.

Fai wriggled his fingers to remind him of the storm. They couldn't see the land below from here—he had no wish to be further separated in a raging flood. Kurogane sighed and stood, offering his elbow to Fai.

He took it gratefully; they made their way back to the cluster of surviving soldiers, watched as Yasha circled them on his dragon-lizard steed. Moments later, the ground beneath them glowed blinding white, and there was the still-too-new, nauseous sensation of being deconstructed and flung through a great distance.

They landed smoothly on solid ground, dry, Fai's fingers tight around Kurogane's elbow. He looked up in surprise.

The rain clouds were still looming above them, still glowing with sporadic lightning, and the camp was as empty as they'd left it some hours ago. Ozone was thick in the air, accompanied by the distinct scent of rain. Somewhere further away, the storm had already begun.

Yasha conducted his nightly debriefing. Fai waited for the soldiers to begin dispersing, before looking to Kurogane. The other was wearing a frown; he looked to the tents, then the forest, said nothing.

Figuring that the answer would come quickly enough, he followed Kurogane to the edge of the forest, where half of the largest tents were being set up. Soldiers were untying some of the cots lashed to the trees; they moved forward to help carry furniture into the tents. To prevent potential losses in a flood, the tents were staked deep into the ground and secured to the trees, and the legs of the narrow wooden cots were roped together so that the cots would not go floating off.

They were halfway done with the sleeping preparations when the first fat droplets of rain began to fall. Fai almost joked about sharing a bed in the rain, but he stopped himself—Kurogane couldn't understand his language, and he was supposed to be mute, besides.

By the time the tents were ready and the cots secured, rain was sluicing down in sheets. They were completely soaked through. Visibility of the campsite was reduced to zero—the only lamps that burned were those inside the tents. And the tents were full of drenched, tired soldiers. Rain pattered on the thick oilskin-covered canvas above them.

Someone brought a fiddle out as others stripped off the layers of their armor. Fai set himself gingerly on a corner bunk, wincing when rainwater oozed from his outerwear into the single layer of canvas stretched across his cot. There were enough beds in here that he didn't have to share—all the same, he wasn't looking forward to spending the night on a wet surface.

He was observing Kurogane in the midst of polishing Souhi (the adjacent bunk was almost too close) when the music began. It wasn't exactly a fiddle, per se, with its little round body and long neck, both lacquered black, but it was played the same way, with a bow dragging clear, bright notes from three taut strings while nimble fingers varied the pitch of the music. So, Fai thought of it as a fiddle, and his eyelids fluttered shut in pleasure when the melody gathered momentum, high notes one moment and low notes the next, a jaunty campfire tune that had some of the soldiers singing along.

The fiddle itself sounded like a waterfowl warbling, with its nasally, haunting timbre, and even though it wasn't quite like playing the piano, he could identify the notes, could feel his fingers twitching in time to the music. Fai thought about his piano back on Celes, and the sleek white beauty he'd played on two worlds ago, felt a deep longing in his chest. He thought about whistling, though doing that didn't quite give him the same exhilaration as playing an instrument did. He wanted to coax beauty to life in his hands.

When he opened his eyes, Kurogane was watching him. He offered the other a tired smile.

The ninja didn't look away, so he tried a different tactic: attempting—and failing—to whistle. Puffs of air fizzled out from his puckered lips; he attempted a dozen different ways of creating an aperture with his mouth (none of which worked, of course), and after some attempts, Kurogane's forehead furrowed. He muttered some short, sharp words, gave a low whistle that was all but drowned by the music, and Fai grinned at him.

So Kuro-puppy knows how to whistle, he wanted to say. Instead, he glanced away, at the gathered soldiers turned towards the fiddler.

The sight transfixed him, when he really looked at the men of Yama. In this wet, they had stripped down in order to not catch cold. Orange-gold lamplight danced on their bodies. All manner of inked skin was illuminated, where they had previously been hidden under clothes—bold, bulky words scrolling down backs, portraits of women in flowing robes on muscled biceps, a demon mask on the back of a shaved head, skulls, flowers, messy, chaotic lines, neat scriptures...

(He had glimpsed them briefly in the common bathing tent, too, but they had visited only once when it was crowded. Fai had attracted the attention of a number of men—Kurogane had glowered at them—and after that, they'd gone before or after the majority of their comrades.)

Looking at the tattoos now, dark ink fluid with the soldiers' movements, Fai was starkly reminded of the one he had worn on his back—Ashura's spell—that Yuuko had taken away.

How she could tell it was his most precious thing, Fai could only guess. Without its comforting blanket of magic, he'd felt bereft for weeks (still felt it now), and his back felt far too exposed. He wished for it back, even though he knew it was impossible for his king to grant him a new one, or even for Yuuko to return it. It was a price paid.

(It's a phoenix, Ashura had said, just like you are. You've been through the blazing fires of Hell, Fai, and you have risen—will always rise—like one.)

Right now, they were in a world so far away that he couldn't even sense the pulse of Ashura's magic. (But whether he could sense it didn't matter, because Ashura could track him down no matter what.)

Fai remembered looking at his tattoo through a mirror, feeling the weight of magic on his skin. He remembered touching his fingers to bold black lines, feeling love and kindness wrapped around his back. They were nothing he deserved, yet he craved both anyway, wanting to fulfill and deny his sovereign's wish. He couldn't forget that Ashura was still waiting for him back on Celes.

In Yama, people had tattoos. In Yama, perhaps Fai could replace the one he lost.

Throat tight, he reached for his shoulder to touch the ghost of his king's blessing. What met his fingertips instead was leather and steel plate.

Fai gasped and blinked, looked around. He hadn't expected to forget himself here. Tens of soldiers were clustered around, lit with orange in the large, wide tent. Rain pattered, the fiddle warbled, soldiers were singing, and Kurogane was still looking at him.

He blinked uncertainly, wondered if the warrior read anything from his face, then decided to try a bright smile just in case. Kurogane frowned, glanced away.

Thoughts of Ashura had left a hollow ache in his chest. There was no fear, not when he hadn't used magic here and there was a far lower chance of his benefactor tracking him down. He missed Celes in its happier days, and the soggy, heavy clothes clinging to him were reminiscent of the rare times he'd gone out into the snow in an unenchanted cloak, returning only when he had been covered in melting slush trickling wetly down his skin. There was once, too, when he'd played in the snow on a high balcony of the Valerian castle with—

He couldn't breathe right, not here. He needed to be away from music and tattoos and things that reminded him of the lives he'd lost (left behind). Needed to be out of this heavy, dragging armor.

Fai slipped along the shadows of the tent, pushed aside the entrance flap and stepped out into the stinging pelt of rain. At once, the music muffled. Cool raindrops beat into his hair, splattered against his face, and it was comfortingly dark out. He hadn't moved two steps in the sucking mud when a wedge of raindrops before him reflected orange light, and the fiddle sounded bright and clear once more. A brief shadow, then the tent flap fell back into place.

He didn't have to look to know that Kurogane had followed him out.

Fai turned his head in the other's direction, barely, to acknowledge his presence, then trudged forward. Mud squelched around his boots; he wondered when their integrity would fail in this rain.

They walked in silence for a long time. It was pitch-dark out with the occasional bolt of lightning—he'd needed a few moments for his eyes to adjust—but this wasn't very different from the depths of the tower at all. Rain slicked wet paths down his scalp, dripped off his eyelashes and trickled down his neck, seeping into clothes that were becoming increasingly heavy.

"Oi," Kurogane said, when they'd crossed the muddy campgrounds to the forest on the other side. He continued with a short string of words that ended on a lifting note—a question.

"Kuro-tim's asking me things I can't answer," he said lightly, weaving his way between trees with trunks so wide that he could hug them and not have his fingers touch.

The ninja did not hiss at him to shut up (he knew the sound of those words, at least), and he felt the weight in his chest lift by a fraction.

"You don't mind that I'm talking?" Fai asked, smiled a little. It helped to talk, if just so he could stop thinking. "Do you miss my voice, Kuro-mon?"

More muttered words, threaded with annoyance.

The storm was not as severe in the forest. The canopy bore most of its brunt, and what came through was a light rain, one that gave him a chance to wipe off the droplets clinging to his face. Soggy leaves squished beneath their boots—his toes were disgustingly slippery by now—and even the animals were quiet.

"I was thinking of getting a tattoo, you know. So many soldiers in Yama have them, and... Well, I don't know if you remember what Yuuko-ril took from me. I thought about replacing it." A laugh. "Not exactly the same thing, of course, but life's like that, isn't it?"

Kurogane had perked up at the familiar names, even if there was no comprehension on his face. Nonetheless, it was nice to talk, liberating to be able to talk as much as he wanted, out here where there was only the two of them. Kurogane, with his superior senses, would be able to stop him if he thought there was anyone approaching.

"I wonder how Sakura-mis and Syaoran-sha are doing. Mokona too. We probably should have looked for them when we were in Shara Country. Then we wouldn't be in this mess, would we?" He rolled his shoulders, stretched his arms out behind him. "I think Syaoran-sha will do his best to protect them all. Sakura-mis too, if she can. She's very warm. I didn't expect her to be."

Kurogane grunted.

"I think you like them, Kuro-mer. Even if you pretend to huff and grouch and say you don't care. You can't hide, you know. Not like me." But those eyes saw through him, didn't they. Fai laughed again, with a little less amusement. "You should probably stay away from me, Kuro-lief. But I don't think my master's watching us now. I can't feel it here. It's strange, isn't it? I can't feel Ashura-tii's magic, either."

The other looked sharply at him—he'd recognized the names, again, but could not understand any of it. He'd have flown into a rage otherwise.

"So, we can do as we like. No, we shouldn't. Maybe the children will show up and... no. We shouldn't." Fai steered the monologue to a different topic (one that was most definitely not what he was thinking about), to whatever crossed his mind, and by the time he tired himself out with talking, they'd reached the other side of the forest, and he didn't know how much time had passed in between. It was still raining. He wanted to wash himself. Despite the light rain beneath the canopy and the chill in the air, all that walking uphill had made him sweat beneath his thick armor.

"Do you... Do you think we can bathe out here?"

Past the forest was a rolling expanse of rice fields, the city, and a wide, meandering river in the distance. Lightning lit the scenery with a harsh purple-blue glow every so often, bright light cutting through the rain. Fai had decided early on that, if they were walking, they would be best off moving towards higher ground. They would have the freshest information on whether the river had burst its banks, and how quickly the water was moving. Not all of the forest was immune to flooding, after all.

Kurogane was observing him from the corner of his eye. Fai angled a small smile at him (nothing to hide, not right now), and waved toward the pouring rain just beyond the trees. "Want a shower, Kuro-elf?"

When the other still didn't comprehend, Fai shrugged, peeled his armor off painstakingly, hung them on a low branch. He didn't think they would dry, but the thought of cleansing water on his skin was enough to spur him onward. Kurogane looked away.

He wasn't embarrassed at this point. They'd bathed together in the common bath, and although he didn't much enjoy baring skin in front of the other soldiers, Kurogane was an exception. Kurogane was... different. They'd fought together. (Slept together.) He figured standing out in the rain naked for a little while wouldn't hurt, even if his back was more unprotected than it should be.

The water was sweet and cool against his skin when he took his first steps out, wet grass tickling his bare feet. Fai tipped his face to the sky, felt an army of droplets patter down on his nose and mouth and eyelids. He ran his fingers through his bedraggled hair, grimy from the day's work, flicked a sudden grin at Kurogane. "It feels good, Kuro-pai, you should try it!"

Kurogane stared suspiciously at him. He was leaning against a tree, arms folded across his chest, seemingly uninterested in the storm. Fai shrugged. He scrubbed himself down with an undershirt he'd brought into the rain with him, wishing he'd thought to rummage about the camp supplies for a chunk of soap.

"I wish you'd brought some soap along, Kuro-lord," he told the ninja over his shoulder. When the other remained staring blankly at him, Fai mimicked lathering his hands and shampooing his hair.

Kurogane snorted. But he did push off from the tree, coming to stand in front of Fai with a low uttered command. He turned toward the forest, looked back, as if waiting on a response.

"You'll have to do better than that. I don't understand you."

They stared at each other in the dimness for longer, until lightning struck somewhere over the rice fields behind him, and he saw the dark intensity in Kurogane's eyes. His breath caught, and rain continued to beat down, rivulets sliding down his chest and arms. The ninja was drenched, hair plastered flat against his head.

"You won't be able to see where you're going," Fai said. He meant it as a joke when he reached up to brush that lock of hair away from Kurogane's eyes. His fingers had scarcely made contact with hot skin when Kurogane caught his wrist, abruptly pulled him back under the shelter of trees.

The words Kurogane said would have sounded like You're going to fall sick in the rain, if he'd been talking to either of the children and not Fai. Fai followed, speechless, his focus anchored on the heat branded into his skin. Kurogane felt good, and, well. Fai was naked. A lot of things could happen.

He wasn't exactly surprised when Kurogane backed him up against a tree, his face all but shadowed, one large palm coming up to cup the side of his head. His heart was pounding; Kurogane was a barrier from the cold, and close, so close he could feel the other's breath on his face. All he could see was the purple lightning-lit sky past Kurogane's shoulders, and the broad chest of the man himself, offering protection and heat. He gulped. His fingers twitched, itching to pull Kurogane closer, pull his clothes off.

There were a million things he wanted right then, some with them flat on the grass, some with him pressed into the wrinkled bark of giant trees.

What he wasn't expecting was the hover of Kurogane's lips a sword's edge away from his, a large, hot palm slipping down his wet belly, cupping him between the legs. His whimper snagged in his throat, tore free when calloused fingers slid against him, and he rolled his hips forward, wanting. Their lips met somehow—he didn't know who broached the final distance—and his hands were fumbling against the clasps and layers of Kurogane's armor, seeking.

Kurogane stroked him firmly; he writhed, rough bark biting into his back, and their kiss was anything but chaste, open mouths sliding, tongues pressing hot and slick. Calloused fingers dragged and pulled, coaxing him to distraction, and he scrabbled at the other's clothes, finally giving up and grabbing Kurogane through the layers of his breeches (so hard), squeezing and rubbing.

Somehow, their fumbling hands freed Kurogane of a few clothes, just enough for him to circle hungry fingers around the other. Somehow, Kurogane had got a hand behind him, easing slow fingers into the cleft of his ass, and Fai gasped, his pulse throbbing in two separate places. He tiptoed, loosened his grip, brought his hips flush against the other's. Kurogane took them both into his hand, slippery and hard and flushed, and Fai shuddered, gave a strangled moan. It felt good, fucking good, and he couldn't think, could only surge against Kurogane, grinding, needing more.

A finger pressed lightly at his entrance, slowly rubbing—fuck fuck fuck—and Fai hardly felt himself going rigid as pleasure swept through him and all he knew was the pulsing heat in his groin. Kurogane groaned a few thrusts later; more wet heat splattered between them.

For a while, there was only heavy breathing, heartbeats galloping, raindrops pattering, and the deafening roar of thunder.

Kurogane had released him, leaned a forearm flat against the tree trunk next to his head. His chest was heaving, and Fai was avoiding his gaze like he usually did. He'd discovered that the ninja much preferred it when he didn't attempt to pull a fake smile, so he eased himself away through the gap the other had left between himself and the tree. It had been a while. There had been no privacy like this through the entire week they'd been in Yama.

He stepped back into the storm, which hadn't abated, and ran his hands over his body again to clean himself of sweat and other fluids. It took some minutes; by the time he turned back to Kurogane, cool and composed and relatively clean, the warrior had tidied himself. Fai dressed in silence, looked once again over the landscape when a distant bolt of lightning lit the sky.

The river had swollen in the time they were occupied. There wasn't anything either of them had to say about it, so Fai folded his arms, watched the slow spread of water across neat rectangular demarcations of fertile fields. It seemed slow from a distance, though it wasn't really. The deluge continued, and as they watched, the edge of the floodwaters crept towards them, blurring everything it touched like a splash of water on careful strokes of calligraphy.

"Do you think the flood will reach us?" Fai asked, glanced at Kurogane. When the warrior cocked his head, Fai pointed at the river, then where they'd come from in the forest.

Kurogane looked thoughtful for a moment. He studied the sky, then the rising waters, and wriggled his fingers, lifting and lowering them thrice. Rain for a long time. A jerk of his thumb back into the forest, a nod of his head. Yes, it will flood.

Fai sighed. "I guess we should head back, then."

They weaved their way back through the forest. It was only easier because the path took them downhill; the dead leaves on the forest floor were soggy. Fai slipped more than once. On the second time he flailed wildly (the leaves on Celes had been needles instead of wide, flat, slippery sheets), Kurogane snorted and grabbed his arm, hauling him upright.

He stayed pressed close to the ninja the rest of the way back. Fai didn't look forward to acquiring bruises or sprained ankles, and Kurogane was warm, besides.

There was little to say on the return trip. Fai kept his thoughts to himself, listened to the crackle of thunder directly overhead. It was only when one particularly close streak of lightning zig-zagged its way to the trees ahead, half-blinding them, that he felt his misgivings well high in his gut once more.

Without consulting Kurogane, he began to run.

Low branches scratched at his face and he slipped and tripped several more times. Kurogane wove through the undergrowth behind him, far more silent. Using his momentum to propel himself forward, Fai broke through the edge of the forest, feet squelching to a stop in sucking mud.

The burnt embers of a skeleton tree glowed red across the watery campgrounds. Licking orange flame sought refuge where branch met trunk, and as he watched, the fire sputtered and died out with an inaudible hiss. Steam misted the air above. From several yards away, over a shallow sea of rainwater on waterlogged ground, all he could smell was the loam of the wet forest floor. Yet, as he traced the damage down the tree, the acrid sting of wood, rope and canvas bore heavy on his tongue.

A tent had been secured to the tree; a third of its roof was seared away, and rain was pouring into the gap that remained. He hoped no one was caught in the fire, brief though it might have been.

Fai glanced at Kurogane. The other looked grim. He inhaled deeply, strode forward to assess the damage. With any luck...

As they approached, orange lamplight flickered from the other side of the tents, illuminating clustered soldiers. Shouts rose above the plink-plinking of rain, and Kurogane grabbed him lightly by the elbow, slowing Fai down so he could step forward.

The looks that were cast their way were not in the least bit friendly when they rejoined their comrades, rain dripping down their faces. Fai stood silent, watched on as several soldiers spoke at once, eyes full of accusation, and were ordered into silence by one of the superiors standing around—the Touya of this world.

Touya frowned at him, said a long string of words to Kurogane, full of decisive consonants, and he glanced back frequently between Fai and the burnt tree, and the tent. Fai felt his heart sink. Kurogane glared back, gestured between them and the forest they'd come from, and his words in return were sharp.

He was being blamed for the fire. The same looks were back, the cold, distrustful gazes that he'd attracted the first moment they'd stepped into the sprawling tent-city of Yama. Kurogane had refused to let the guards take him away then, and Fai had learned that they'd only allowed him to remain because of his eyes, mysteriously black ever since they landed in this world. (If it weren't for the robes from Shara that had followed them into this world, Fai would have thought he'd met Yama's version of Kurogane.)

Touya turned to speak directly to him. Fai tensed, smiled pleasantly, shook his head. Kurogane glowered. It seemed as though he were trying to speak through his eyes (but those eyes were angry so much that he couldn't rightly discern the warrior's meaning).

With a short command, Touya called a couple of soldiers up, who came to stand on either side of Fai. He gulped, tried to force back the memories from Valeria, court nobles who had looked at him (and Fai) and whispered. There had been a small hand in his once, that fitted his perfectly. In the midst of the Yama soldiers, Fai wore a smile, and pressed the backs of his fingers into his palms.

(Unlucky, unlucky, unlucky.)

They took his arms roughly (did Kurogane think he was a bad omen?) and Fai followed numbly when they turned him away, to the trees. Touya issued an order. Fai didn't understand it, so he didn't bother looking at his superior, instead lowering his gaze to the ground. Was he to be punished?

"Fai."

It was the first time Kurogane had voluntarily spoken his name. He snuffled, surprise halting his thoughts, and glanced back at the ninja.

Black eyes glinted in the weak lamplight. They were determined, not repulsed. Fai was inexplicably relieved. Kurogane said something else, reached forward to bump knuckles against his chin, and the familiarity of it took the edges off his frayed nerves.

As he was led away, Fai thought Kurogane's words might have meant I'll get you out of there. He almost wished he could tell for certain.

A/N: This fic actually took me multiple attempts to get started (which is a first for me), because there are so many things I want to address here. The first chapter gives you a preview to most of it, and I am actually still writing (chapter 6 now!) without much idea of when it's going to end, lol. Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter.

As usual, thoughts and comments are very welcome! :)