Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The authors claim no ownership of the characters within, nor received any compensation for this work.
Aya awoke in his room. He had slept in his clothes again, without even bothering to get beneath the covers. Exhausted after that mission that had nearly failed, he didn't even have the energy to dredge up the memory of how he'd gotten back to his apartment.
All he was certain of was that it hadn't been pleasant. He still had a knot in his stomach and the memory of something frighteningly disappointing lingering on the edges of his mind. Something wonderful had been offered to him... he remembered having an all-too-rare moment of clarity and absolute certainty. But then it had been torn away... no. It had not been stolen, it had been tarnished somehow, stained into something he no longer desired.
Aya drew in a deep breath as he rolled over onto his back, and sighed. His shift in the shop was this morning, his internal clock nagged, and he was hardly going to give Yohji an opportunity to dress him down for being late. Given that rare chance, the older man would be insufferable all day. Time to make himself presentable and heat a quick bowl of miso...
Miso. Food. Breakfast. Wait. Pausing, Aya opened his eyes fully and tried another deep breath. He nearly choked. What was that disgusting greasy tang in the air? It smelled like dinner, not breakfast, and poorly-cooked dinner at that. Animal fat and fried... something. Even when his kitchen-challenged teammates attempted to grill fish for breakfast it never smelled like that.
The thought of the kitchen awakened his sleepy memories completely, and the knot in his stomach tightened and sank deeper. His teammates wouldn't be in the kitchen, he now remembered. The kitchen would not even be a place that he recognized. When he left the room and went downstairs, he would still be trapped in this unfamiliar house with that boy.
That boy. Now he remembered the tarnished thing from the night before. Cye kissing him, touching him, awakening Aya's skin and body with his solid, sensual warmth. Cye igniting his passion from the spark of fury and bringing them both to life. And then, Cye touching him as no one in years had dared to do, promising a heaven of good feelings and pleasure.
With that promise, the moment had become tainted. A rough, violent session amid the rose-thorns -- that, Aya could have handled. Bruises and growls and a bit of blood, taking the boy's mouth and hands until they had both burned away every lie and fear inside... that was what Aya had wanted. Not pleasure. Not exploration. Not feeling good, like Cye had promised in a whisper in his ear.
Aya dragged a hand over his face, and pushed himself up to sit. If only Cye hadn't said that, then maybe...
He'd wanted so badly to be nothing more than his body last night. He didn't want any part of his own mind and heart. His mind was too baffled by his situation, and his heart was too bruised by the knowledge that here, in this place, he could do nothing to ensure the safety of the only person that meant anything to him.
There was no way he could communicate that purely physical desire to Cye, who seemed to be all heart and pure emotion. The boy's body was bound to his heart and vice versa, both form and feeling buoyed with so much life and energy. Cye would never understand Aya's desire to rip soul from body and be only a creature who didn't need to feel. Scenes like last night could never be replayed, he decided as he climbed up off the bed and began to strip. No matter how promising the idea of rechannelling his passion from fury to desire had been, Cye was certainly not the person with whom to try it out.
Aya stalked to the closet, yanking his shirt off over his head. The room was a carbon copy of his own above the flower shop. The garments in the closet in this room hung exactly as he hung them in his actual room. The very fact of this sent a shiver down his back, and his hands shook a little as he chose heavy black cargo pants and a long-sleeved black shirt. This house was eerie, mocking him with its similarity to one of the few places he felt safe.
Aya was determined not to feel safe here. He knew all too well that he was not as welcome as it might seem. Something treacherous and deceitful was at foot, he was certain of it. Something inexplicable had happened last night, when he had tried and tried to run from the house, only to have it follow him. There had to be something playing with his mind and controlling the strangeness of this place. He would not be caught off-guard by languishing in comfort when that something made itself known.
Aya put his boots back on and found a pair of heavy swordsman's gloves in their usual drawer. He refused to acknowledge the mocking thought in the back of his mind, whispering that no amount of concealment would keep him safe from the boy downstairs. Aya was covered from his collarbones to his toes in black clothing and would not be giving an inch today. Cye had not been put off by an icy demeanor or a sharp katana, the mental voice teased, so why would he be put off by a bit of black cloth?
Out of habit, he glanced at himself in the small mirror on the wall. He was already halfway out the door when an angry purple bruise on the side of his neck made him stop cold. Aya turned his head to inspect it. A perfect oval of blue and purple bruised flesh burned the fair skin, surrounded by a half-moon scattering of teeth marks. He looked like he'd been attacked. In a way, he supposed he had been.
Taking a deep breath, he leaned his forehead against the cool mirror and closed his eyes. He would have to be completely ruthless to get through this. He could not betray any feelings about last night's encounter. Cye would react, he knew. Cye would either confront him immediately, or pester him with friendliness until the next opportunity to pounce him. And that damnable persuasive persistence was becoming harder to ignore. Vigilance was his only option.
Unfortunately the mark was too high on his neck to be covered with a turtleneck. Aya put on a scowl, checked the expression in the mirror, and stepped out the door.
The burnt-flesh scent he noticed earlier grew stronger as Aya went down to the kitchen. He tried not to actually look at the unfamiliar, unnerving surroundings as he went, but the floors were unmistakably clean even though he was certain he'd tracked mud in the night before. The thought was quickly put out of his mind. The less he thought about last night, the garden, and the house itself, the better.
In the kitchen, as he predicted, was Cye. Dressed, apparently showered, and busily rummaging in the refrigerator as a veritable mountain of breakfast simmered on the stove.
The auburn-haired boy pulled something out of the refrigerator and turned back around. He almost dropped the carton of juice as he started, seeing Aya. A dull pink flush started to spread slowly across his face. "Good morning, Aya," he said softly. "Did you sle... umm, are you... I made breakfast," he finally stammered out, eyes dropping to the floor. He set the carton down on the counter and moved back to the stove, tension evident as he busied himself with this and that.
Strange. No cheerful chirp or chatty greeting. No hint of innuendo, not even a blink of last night's flurry of emotion. Aya had been braced for something he could glare at and ignore, or bark away in no uncertain terms. He was prepared to endure smirks and pointed glances at the mark on his neck. Obvious embarrassment and avoidance, he had not been prepared for. Cye didn't seem the type to retreat. Nothing Aya had done to rebuff him before last night had deterred him. It felt strange, to be the cause of Cye's blush and lowered eyes. It did not feel as satisfying as Aya might have expected.
He stepped into the kitchen, giving Cye a fairly wide berth. The other man did not say a word, which was strange in itself. It was just as well. Aya had no desire to rehash the events of the night before.
Waiting until the boy had started laying out place settings, Aya bent over the frying pan on the stove. He sniffed at the bubbling strips frying in more grease than he had ever seen collected in one cooking appliance. That was what he had smelled earlier, certainly.
"It's bacon," offered Cye in the same kind of patiently helpful tone that Omi often used for American tourists, reaching to stir a pot of lumpy, white something.
He glared at the boy and took a step back from his proximity. There was none of the flirting playfulness of the day before and it seemed... disconcerting somehow. "Miso," he requested in a quiet voice.
"I have egg rolls, and I made some muffins, too. Juice or tea? It's fresh-squeezed. The juice, I mean, naturally not the tea..."
Aya would have to take a different approach, he could see. Cye was anxious and nervous, and that seemed to be the cause of his excessive food production and the usual stream of babble. In a slightly less flat tone, Aya asked, "Miso?"
The cook heaved a deep sigh, and reached over the stove to take the lid off a simmering pot on a back burner. "I thought you might say that." Cye dished up a generous bowl of the miso soup and sprinkled a little green onion on the top, pressing his lips into a thin line. He looked so frustrated for a moment that Aya took one of the cooling egg rolls as well, and allowed Cye to pour him a cup of tea as well as a tall glass of orange juice.
"Thank you," Aya murmured as politely as he was able. Before Cye could react to his brief display of manners, he continued. "We should both hike west today. We saw the country to the east yesterday." He lifted his bowl for a slow drink of his soup. It was quite possibly some of the best miso soup he'd had in years.
Cye looked up from the muffin he was slowly shredding into crumbs. "There wasn't anything on the coast in either direction," he said hesitantly. "Or, at least, nothing that was affecting the water. No pipes or boats or anything. We could get lost out in the grasslands if we get far enough away."
Aya was quickly finishing off the soup, and making short work of his egg roll as well. Breakfast tasted so good that he barely wanted to pause to explain further. "I was unable to get away from the house on my own. However, yesterday, the two of us covered ground. We may only be able to move if both of us move together." The theory had been cooking in his mind since he'd remembered the frustrations of last night, but Cye didn't appear convinced. Neither did he appear unconvinced -- he was entirely preoccupied with picking his breakfast to bits.
Cye's unusual quiet wasn't the only thing different from his manner of the day before. He seemed, if anything, more docile and agreeable. Even his argument to Aya's proposal was tentative and unsure. Yesterday, he had been declarative and firm. Today, he was questioning, lacking in confidence and handled Aya as though something delicate he did not want to break. It was beginning to grate on the swordsman's nerves.
"We will not find a way home sitting here all day." Aya couldn't keep the annoyed snap out of his tone, though somewhere he regretted the fallen expression that wilted Cye's face.
Cye flushed, looking back down, "You're right, of course we should go. I'm sorry, just let me go change." He got up, brushing the crumbs of his mangled breakfast off his fingers and made a hasty retreat up the stairs.
Last night's events had affected his companion more than Aya had originally assumed. Cye was guilty, apologetic, and saddened. And over what? A misunderstanding, a miscommunication? Had it affected him so much, so as to change his entire personality for Aya's benefit? That was needling him. Cye was stronger than such waffling tactics, he knew. It was that strength that he appreciated despite the occasionally annoying packaging.
Cye came back down a few minutes later. He'd changed to a light, long sleeved t-shirt and a pair of battered, faded jeans. A tough pair of hiking books were on his feet and a light pack was slung over his shoulder. He walked over to the door silently, waiting for Aya, not even making a motion towards cleaning up the remains of breakfast.
~*~*~*~
They went west from the house, with the slowly-climbing sun over their shoulders, casting their long shadows on the grass. Cye didn't have to look up at his companion to note his stiff carriage and impeccable posture. Aya strode forward those first few yards with an unusual purpose and determination. Frequently during the first fifteen minutes, he would look over his shoulder at the house they were steadily leaving behind them. Only when the building was a small blemish on the horizon did Aya seem satisfied.
He said, naturally, nothing and stayed an arm's length from Cye's side. He hadn't even left the katana at behind; it swung back and forth on the pivot of his left hip.
Cye walked along side his companion quietly. Try as he might he couldn't erase the previous nights events from his mind. Aya hadn't *seemed* any more annoyed with him than he'd been the day before, but he hadn't seemed to want an answer either. When he'd come into the kitchen, Cye's heart had sunk into his toes. The unrelieved, head-to-toe black had just hammered home that the redhead had closed himself completely off. It didn't help that the stark black just made the contrast between alabaster skin and the lurid stain on his neck that much sharper. He'd tried as hard as he could while Aya ate to not stare. As guilty as Cye felt, the memory of placing that mark made him burn for the redhead that much more.
Nothing he'd ever done had made Cye feel quite as bad as he did right now, nor so utterly at a loss as to how to make it right. So, for lack of a better idea, he trudged along beside Aya even though he knew the entire exercise was pointless. Whatever had brought them here wanted them at the house, and the house was where any sort of gateway home would be. But that, he admitted to himself, was not the point. The point was that he'd forced something on the other boy that he didn't want and the least Cye could do was walk with him.
After an hour or so Cye looked over at his companion and saw the barest trace of red creeping over the pale skin. Without stopping, he slung his pack into his arms and dug around in the front pocket. Wordlessly, he pulled out a small brightly colored tube and held it out towards the redhead. "There's water if you want it too," Cye said, softly.
Aya's long strides didn't cease as he took the little tube and inspected it briefly. Surprise lifted his brows for a moment, before he uncapped it and took off one glove. A bit of the sunscreen was squeezed out onto his fingers. The faint scent of cocoa butter wafted between them as Aya rubbed the lotion into his nose and cheeks.
Out of the corner of his eye, Cye saw Aya's jaw tighten when he started on his throat. Long fingers skimmed over the nasty mark that stood as the only physical proof of what had happened the night before. Tense, Aya did a clumsy job and left white streaks of sunscreen along his neck and jaw.
Without thinking, Cye reached a hand out towards the other boy and flinched back at the resultant scowl. Dropping his hand to his side he stopped walking. "Aya," he said, "Stop, please. You really need me to do a better job of it."
He stopped reluctantly after a few more steps and slowly turned towards Cye. "More of your help?" Aya asked icily. The suspicion was thick in his tone, expecting that now, finally, Cye would abandon his contrite facade and pounce like he had last night.
Cye recoiled as if he'd been struck. His more familiar nerve flared quickly though and he faced Aya's chill look. "You're the palest person I've ever seen, and you missed big patches," he said tartly. "I'd no further plans on any 'help' but if you want to want to look like a zebra, and a painful one at that, it's up to you. I can at least see what I'm doing."
After a moment, Aya handed him back the sunscreen. Cye cleaned up the job he'd done with clinical efficiency, almost as though afraid to allow the touch to linger. He also studiously avoided the angry red mark on Aya's neck. For his part, Aya did not acknowledge the touch in any way. He stood still to accept Cye's assistance, but stared rigidly straight ahead. Cye may as well have not even been there. Aya was a statue, completely unresponsive and immobile, he didn't even bother to glare or scowl.
The moment Cye drew his hand away from Aya's neck, the other man was striding off again. Right on course, he stalked forward as if he'd never stopped. Cye was obliged to hustle to keep up with him.
As the sun rose higher, approaching noon, they topped another gentle rise. In a slight depression was a small stand of trees, the first that they'd seen all day. Cye started towards them and turned back as Aya stopped, staring at them distrustfully. Torrent sighed, suddenly feeling very annoyed. "Aya," he said, again sounding a little more lively. "It has to be close to noon and we've been walking all day. We're not going to find a way home if we drop from heat exhaustion. I know you still don't believe me, but there is nothing feels that dangerous here. Can we please stop for a few minutes for a drink and something to eat? We'll start again right away."
He could see that Aya disapproved of the pause. Then again, the swordsman might have gone on all day without a break, just to prove Cye wrong. Even now, despite the flush to his cheeks and the slightly labored breathing, Aya was balking at approaching the small grove.
And yet, eventually, Aya glanced at Cye, and took in his appearance in his silently studious way. The taller man inspected his face for a few long moments, then indicated with a slight nod that he agreed. A kindness from the chill of Aya's heart? Whatever it was that the man had decided, it meant a break and that was good enough for Cye.
A few minutes later saw them seated under the blessed shade. Cye had pulled water bottles and a few non-perishables out of his pack and handed half to Aya. He leaned back against the tree and chuckled softly. At Aya's mildly inquisitive look, he smiled softly, his first of the day. "I keep waiting for the rabbit," he said, "And the rabbit hole to fall down. It feels like that kind of place."
After a moment's pause, Aya looked over a him with a... well, not exactly a smile, more like non-hostile, neutral expression. Better than a scowl, at least. "Lewis Carroll?"
Cye smiled in surprised pleasure, "Yes. My mother used to read it to us when we were small. Carroll and Dickens were two of her favorites." He sighed and settled in a little more comfortably. "Mother used to read Dickens to us every Christmas. I hope she'll still do it for her grandchildren." He laughed at the raised eyebrow from Aya. "Oh, there aren't any yet. My sister only got married last spring."
There. There it was again, Cye thought, frowning a little. He'd almost gotten a real reaction from the quiet swordsman and then nothing. His entire bearing had slammed shut again. In spite of the unease he'd felt all morning, Trust's Ronin was becoming intrigued again.
"Anyway," he said, hesitantly, "Dickens was one of Mother's favorites. I think she read us almost everything of his she could get her hands on. I read quite a few of the Western classics that way. Verne is another of my favorites."
"Fantasies," murmured Aya, looking off toward the featureless horizon. "Fantasies and children's tales." He tilted back his water bottle for a drink, expression betraying nothing of what he might say next. "Children foolishly seek a Wonderland, ignoring the trials, the difficulties, and the lies that Alice encountered there." So he had read it, once upon a time. Perhaps long ago, before he became the quiet, reserved man sitting next to Cye now.
"Perhaps," Cye said, looking away again. "But sometimes people need a refuge from what's real. And for all the trials Alice never was really hurt, was she..."
True to form, Aya didn't respond much in the way of body language. However, he was quicker with his words than usual. "Not hurt, physically, but forever changed by the experience. She may not have been in danger, but she still longed for home."
"True," Cye said, drawing his knees towards his chest. "But then strange places... have that effect. You can only hope for changes that make you stronger in a place that doesn't wish you harm."
Aya's voice dropped, approaching something dangerous and almost frightening. A deadly cold tone echoing the hopeless connotation of his words. "Strength came from learning that fantasies and daydreams are the enemies of safety and security. Despite the fantastic things she saw, nothing was as important as finding a safe place."
Cye leaned forward, resting his chin on his knees, and looked at his companion thoughtfully. Against his admittedly selfish intentions, he was starting to pull himself out of the mire of guilt and focus again on what was important. That one simple statement told him more about Aya than a day and a half of talking at him had. "Dreams are what give hope," he said softly. "And hope is sometimes all you have."
He expected a negation, but Aya surprised him. "Sometimes," the redhead allowed in a more quiet tone than his usual. Amazing. Aya was actually agreeing with him. It might have been the first thing the man had said that wasn't directly contrary since they'd met. Naturally, he had to ruin it all again in the next breath, his voice growing flat and toneless again. "But dreams are ephemeral and shift too often. Nothing remains as it is."
"No, of course not. But life changes as much as dreams do." Cye chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, looking a point past Aya. "But sometimes the ephemeral things are stronger than what's solid."
Aya's words were swift, hard, and pointed: a sword's slice of verbiage. "Nothing is stronger than the true nature of a thing." He was silent for a moment, and something shifted. Cye knew the man was looking at him now. Expectancy hung in the air. That comment had been aimed directly at Cye, and Cye's much-changed demeanor.
Cye swallowed hard and looked down again, refusing to meet the man's eyes. "And what if a thing's true nature is thrown away? What happens when it's forgotten for something... wrong." There, he'd said it. Not as plainly as he'd have liked, but as directly as he could manage with those distant violet eyes watching him.
"No thing can cease to be what it is," stated Aya firmly, his views typically black-and-white on the subject. "Nor should it."
Cye sighed, raking his hands through his hair. Damn the man for drawing him out anyway. He'd been quite content to wallow in guilt and self-recrimination, thank you. "Aya," he said more firmly, almost in the decisive tone of the day before. "I need to tell you some things that you're not going to want to believe. Humor me?"
Aya's jaw tightened noticeably at this prospect, but he didn't otherwise move. He had been looking keenly at Cye, even gaze settled solidly on him. That attention did not waver now. "If you must unburden yourself, then do." Not exactly encouragement, but it was as close as Aya got.
"I'll give you the short version, since most of the details don't matter now anyway." He'd settled back against the tree again, posture no longer quite so defensive. "I meant it when I said that magic was still real. Three years ago my friends and I were called together to fight something that could have destroyed the world."
The other man opened his mouth, but shut it again quickly. Cye would be allowed to finish his story before his stoic and silent audience.
"The armor you saw me in was part of it. We each draw power from a different source. It's the reason by the way that I told you I can't drown. We fought and bled together against enemies you wouldn't believe, and in a very short time we were bound together more tightly than I can even explain." He paused and looked up at Aya. "I can feel them, in my head and heart, tied together with strands of power and light. It's why I know they won't stop until they find us. Three of us were... taken at one point and Ryo and Ro literally fought through an army to get us back." He sighed, leaning back again. "And that's part of why last night happened. I'm so sorry Aya, I *never* meant to force that on you. I was just so frustrated and alone and you needed something so badly. I made the wrong choice, I wasn't even thinking enough to make a choice.
"I broke whatever trust you had in me and..." His breath caught and his face flushed red again, "Trust is everything I am...
"I'd never hurt you Aya. All I wanted was to take your hurting away and I almost made it so much worse..." He drew his knees back in again and lowered his head, a study of misery.
Aya took it all in with surprising calm. Whether he believed what Cye said about himself and the other Ronins didn't matter. All that mattered was that Aya accepted this apology, but he wasn't showing any signs of what he might say next. Cye had nothing to work with, nothing to judge from until Aya chose to speak again. It was an eternity until he finally did. "My pain is... not your concern."
The boy just shrugged. "If you're hurting it is my concern. It's my nature Aya, I can't leave something to suffer if there's anything I can do. Even if I mess it up along the way." He took a deep breath and finally met those beautiful eyes. "The question is... will you let it be my concern for however long we're here?"
As usual, Aya was ready to snap back an argument. Cye could practically see the words rising to his lips, even though he only narrowed his eyes. A moment later, however, the hard words were redirected, and the fair-skinned man leaned back on his hands again. "I have learned it is pointless to try and dissuade you."
Cye frowned, looking over at him, "I won't... force myself on you again. That's not what I'm talking about at all."
Aya shook his head once, lashes falling to veil his eyes. "It is impossible to dissuade you from what you think is right. It is possible deter you from an overenthusiastic execution."
"Overenthusiastic?" He asked softly. "Is that what you call it?" Not 'unwanted'. Aya hadn't yet said that he disliked what had happened. Nor had he said just what had turned him off so. With Aya it seemed, one had to listen just as closely to what was not said.
"Yes." Aya's eyes remained closed for a long moment. "That level of enthusiasm was unwarranted."
Cye watched the redhead for a long moment, becoming frustrated again. Getting an answer out of him was like pulling teeth! Plus, he was completely missing the point of why last night was so wrong. "Aya," he finally said. "Can I show you something?"
The violet eyes were open again and trained calmly on him. Where was that boiling emotion that Cye had been so certain of last night? Where did it *go* when Aya was like this? His tone was as perfectly even as ever. "You may."
"This is going to be a little strange," Cye warned, closing his eyes. "I'm not even sure it will work with someone else but it's the only way I can explain."
Aya was still. The whole world was still around them. Even the breeze seemed to hold its breath, waiting for a moment of real magic. Cye called on the power deep inside him, letting Torrent rush to the surface.
Fire. A soft wave of blue-green fire licking in tiny flames over Cye's forehead, slowly resolving into a clear , glowing sea-blue kanji symbol.
Trust.
The feeling burned through him, the word itself resolved on his very skin. He heard Aya echo it in a soft whisper. Trust The man shifted, and Cye could feel his warmth and presence moving just a bit closer. Inspecting, of course, getting a better look at the impossible before he decided whether or not to believe in it.
Cye opened his eyes and locked with Aya's. In that moment Aya felt everything the Ronin had to give. All the strength, the loneliness, the burning fire of lust for him, was there to share, trust at its most distilled. Overlaying it all was the horrified fear that the previous night had shattered any trust Aya had in him. Aya fell deeper into the well of sea-green light and it wrapped around him, soothing and warm, wanting to wash his nightmares away. Threaded through the comforting haze was Cye's perception of the swordsman's pain and the desperate desire to take it all away.
Aya stared at him, eyes wide and naked. For a few precious moments, shock and surprise had pulled down the distance. This magic was real and tangible, pressed directly into Aya's heart so he could not deny it. Rejection was immaterial because the power was very much *there*. He could not escape it or fight it or run. This time he didn't try. Faced with something he didn't understand, he only sat staring with huge eyes and parted lips, stunned.
Cye blinked and the light faded. He slumped back against the tree, exhausted. "Now do you see?" He asked quietly. "There were so many things I should have said yesterday that I just let slide by. I don't have the right to ask, but... will you let me start over?"
The older boy turned his face away, with a deep exhale of a held breath. For just a few moments he was deliriously overwhelmed and confused. Violet eyes were glazed, his chest was rising and falling with rapid breaths, and what little of his skin showed was faintly flushed. He turned again to face Cye with a violent jerk of his head. "You must be true to your nature," Aya demanded, his voice an emotional growl. Aya's way of giving an affirmative.
"If you will let me," Cye said. He leaned over and kissed Aya softly on the forehead. "I'll never do anything that would hurt you. You have to know that."
"Trust," Aya repeated, regaining his usual calm bit by bit. Hesitant, he lifted his chin, leaning toward Cye, apparently to return the soft kiss. And to the same place. Light, pale lips brushed the spot where Cye's kanji glowed just moments before, his kiss quietly reverent to the power he did not understand.
Cye shivered at the touch, almost afraid to move. Finally, in a very small voice, he gave vent to the one thing he'd felt since the evening before. "I'm sorry...."
Their eyes met for a long moment. That gaze of hard violet ice seemed to soften for an instant. "I understand," Aya murmured in that velvet-soft voice of his. More than just the apology, now, Aya truly understood. He understood the basic reality of Cye's nature, now. Suddenly, the stoic and reserved young man didn't seem quite so far away any more.
Cye broke the look first then smiled back at Aya shyly. "We should be going."
Aya was on his feet in a moment, turning around to extend a hand down to Cye. His expression was perfectly neutral, but the gesture spoke volumes that the older boy couldn't say. Friendship, at the very least, was being offered. A hand up. Assistance in return for the things Cye had shown Aya.
He took the offered hand with a brilliant smile feeling unbelievably relieved. He had a foot in the door and was content with that for now. Cye thought for a moment, then gave his companion a wicked grin. Time to test something out. "You know," he said, "If I wanted, you couldn't stop me. I might not be able to toss a car like I can when I'm armored, but I think I'm still much stronger than you..."
The glare was back again in an instant as the two of them left the glen. Aya's mouth was pursed up in what Cye was now privately calling the Lemon Look, and he was scowling at Cye out of the corners of his eyes. He clasped the hilt of his katana, but he didn't say anything in response to the idea. Patterns had been re-established.
Cye laughed again as they left the grove. The amusement stilled as they topped the rise. The house was there again, not a ten minute walk away. He sighed and looked over at the swordsman. "So... what were you interested in for dinner?"
[ on to chapter 5 ]