Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The authors claim no ownership of the characters within, nor received any compensation for this work.
Cye sighed in utter contentment. Everything was so warm: the sun on his shoulders, the pale redhead in his arms. Warm, drowsy and perfect... except that his feet were falling asleep because of the redhead in question draping his lap. He sighed, shifting a little and winced at the pins and needles shooting up his legs.
"Aya?" he said softly. "We need to get up."
Violet eyes blinked at him slowly and Cye could feel the other boy coiling up again as he regained full wakefulness. [No you don't], he thought, [Not when I've finally gotten you relaxed.] He gave the redhead his most disarming smile. "I was wondering," he began. "Between the dust in the attic and getting all sweaty, I'd really like to get cleaned up. Keep me company? I'm sure you haven't seen the big bathroom upstairs yet and it's sort of the thing to do... stay together for a little bit, I mean." [Not that I'd let you out of my sight right now...] He looked up at the redhead hopefully with guileless eyes that wouldn't have fooled his Ronins for a second.
Aya just looked at him for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. He let go with the faintest trace of what Cye would swear was regret. He tried to get up after Aya did to collect his clothes, but lurched into the swordsman when his feet wouldn't respond. He grinned up at Aya as he was caught, thanks to the other man's quick reflexes "I guess you put my feet to sleep. Could you hand me my things?"
The scattered clothing was collected quickly and Cye made his way carefully towards the stairs, wincing at the returning blood flow. It was worth the discomfort, though, to feel the unobtrusive steadying touch when he wobbled.
As they reached the top of the stairs, Aya paused and blinked down the hall. His supportive touch disappeared, causing Cye to glance back at him, questioning. "What's wrong?"
Slowly, the still-shirtless man replied, "There are six doors now. There had only been five, before." Red brows furrowed in confusion, prompting Cye to lightly pat him on the arm.
"What's one more impossible thing, really? It might be because this room is something from my home that I want to show you. When you think about it, it's just as strange as me always seeing two more doors than you," he pointed out reasonably. Aya was hesitant, though, eyeing the door that Cye had always seen but Aya had not.
"You'll love it," Cye's voice broke through his thoughts before he could protest again. "Mia had parts of the house renovated when we moved in here full time. The bathrooms were the biggest project; she ended up putting in two new water heaters. The old one just couldn't handle six people." He laughed, "And the tub and shower weren't nearly big enough. They broke out the walls of one of the guest rooms to make it bigger."
"Oh!" he said, opening the door. "I never told you about Mia."
Decadent was the word that came to mind as they walked through the door. The room was huge, easily twice the size of the bedrooms. An enormous glassed-in shower took up half of one wall, multiple heads making it easily comfortable for three or four. There were three sinks in one long vanity cabinet topped by a single mirror that ran its entire length. The linen closet was just as huge, and dominating the room in one corner was a mammoth bathtub. Fastened to the walls at regular intervals were votive holders, each with a fresh candle.
Cye grinned, opening the closet door and dropping his clothes in one of the hampers and looked back over at Aya. "Before you ask, it will fit six if they're cozy." Smiling at the faint blush that provoked, he pulled out four big, fluffy towels and a pair of stoppered glass bottles. "Why don't you hop in the shower quick first and I'll get things ready out here. I don't know about you but I want a soak. You can toss your clothes in the hamper if you want and help yourself to anything in the shower." He handed Aya the top towel off the stack and pushed him gently towards the shower.
Funny, really, how much easier it was to bully Aya into things than it was to coax him. Violet eyes blinked at Cye, then at the towel, before he simply glided off to where he was pushed. Even when following suggestions, the redhead had a kind of haughty grace that gave the impression he had been meaning to step into the shower all along.
The soft sound of cloth sliding away from flesh met Cye's ears, and a memory of all that fair skin bared before him on the couch filled his vision. Aya had such a complex about being nude in front of him. Something would have to be done about that -- bedrooms only in the dark were boring.
A faint scent of honeysuckle drifted from the shower, one that brought back another flood of memories -- Sage's particular favorite shampoo. Naturally Aya would have been drawn to that bottle. He was an awful lot like the beautiful blond... only lacking the bright sunlight of Sage's smile. Cye sighed then, looking down at the bottles in his hands. The bath oil was Ryo's favorite, the warm scent bringing him as much to mind as the honeysuckle did for Sage. Rowan had always teased him about the bubbles in the other bottle, even if he did enjoy the long, lazy soaks with them as much as Cye did.
He throttled down the wave of homesickness before it could really start. He wasn't in danger, he knew the guys were safe and he still had to do something about Aya. He still barely knew anything about the swordsman, but he was positive, down to the roots of his soul, that he was on the right track. When he'd found that incredibly precious photo album upstairs it had almost felt like a reward. Though for what, he wasn't quite sure. For getting to know the nearly silent redhead, perhaps. He had a need to dig deeper into the man that was almost frightening.
Shaking his head, Cye busied himself with the bath, clearing his thoughts. He heard the water turn on behind him and smiled. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he watched as it slowly filled, trying not to think of the boy a few feet away, wet, soapy, slippery... He shook his head again, pulling his thoughts away. It was a little too soon after that romp on the couch for more. He unstoppered one bottle and poured in a little of the contents. Heated by the water, the oil released a light, relaxing mix of warm spicy scents. The contents of the other bottle followed, quickly resulting in a mass of bubbles.
Torrent chuckled, looking down at them. He'd be willing to wager that Aya had never had a bubble bath in his life. But he liked them and the camouflage they provided might set the redhead further at ease. He finished up, turning off the water and went over to the shower. He tapped on the glass and announced, "It's all set, go ahead and get in. I'm just going to clean up." Hanging a towel on a hook, he slid the door open.
And was very good and all business as he turned on another of the shower heads and stepped under the stream. He washed quickly, finding his soap and shampoo in the forest of containers with the ease of habit. Aya quickly left the shower almost as soon as Cye got in. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the other boy freeze at the sight of the tub. "Get in," he called out, "It's not going to bite you."
When he'd finished and dried enough that he wouldn't drip all over the floor, he got out and almost burst out laughing at the swordsman. Aya was sitting gingerly in the tub, up to his bottom ribs in bubbles, wearing an expression of the most peculiar mix of offense and puzzlement. As if he was sure the soap bubbles were going to attack him... he just couldn't work out how.
Dropping the wet towel on the floor, Cye slid into the water and leaned back with a contented sigh. "Much better...
"Now then," he went on, eyes starting to lid lazily, "Mia. I never told you about her. She's the one that actually owns the house. There's a ridiculous amount of money involved somehow, inheritances and things. She's a teacher of folklore and history at a university, and her grandfather was researching our armors. She inherited his materials when he was murdered, that's really the reason we got to know her. Well, that and a talent she's got for being in the wrong place at the right time. She was an enormous help to us, though. Without the knowledge she had we'd never have won. Oh, and she's Ryo's girlfriend."
He smiled, eyes almost closed. "I can feel that eyebrow, you know. Yes, she's a fair bit older than we are but almost the first thing Ryo did when the fight started was protect her. And by then, calling us children wasn't really an option. Anyway, to answer the other half of that eyebrow we're all sort of equal opportunity. Well, Ryo doesn't cat around with anyone but us, Mia'd have his ears if he did. Sage and Rowan are pretty tight too, even if Rowan will leer at anything that walks on two legs."
Through his lashes, he saw Aya shift, his arms folded somewhat awkwardly around his chest. He was watching Cye warily, probably expecting to be pounced again any moment. Surprisingly, though, the deep voice that had been quiet since they'd come upstairs reached his ears. "And... you? Are you and... Kento? Close?" Though he spoke the name hesitantly and not without a little discomfort, Aya had apparently been paying attention at dinner the other night. Cye hadn't mentioned Kento in two days, but his companion had remembered the name.
It occurred to him that the anxiety in Aya's voice might not just stem from being naked in the bath with him. It might very well stem from being naked in the bath with him, and discussing his other lovers at the same time.
"Not really," Cye said hesitantly. "At least not like the others are. Kento and I pair together most of the time because the others are couples. It's sort of hard to explain. I love them all but I don't think I'm 'in love' with any of them. I don't know if that makes sense. I wouldn't try too hard to figure it out, it is a very strange sort of arrangement." He tipped his head back, sliding a little farther down into the embrace of the bath. "Even with them being couples it's still the five of us. There's just something... different that we have with each other."
Cye opened his eyes again, smiling. "And I'm sure none of that made the slightest bit of sense. Plus, you're looking tense again and that's hardly the point of a bath. Turn around, would you?" He laughed at the faint tint of suspicion that crossed Aya's face. "Relax, I'm not going to jump you. I just want to give you a backrub... strictly therapeutic, promise. I have it on good authority that I give excellent ones, and Sage and Ryo always complain about their shoulders. They're swordsmen too, you know."
Much to his surprise, Aya was less hesitant about turning and allowing Cye to touch him, this time. Bubbles popped and water sloshed as he turned around, sitting up stiffly straight with his back to Cye. At the back of his neck, bright red hair had begun to tendril into tiny curlicues, brought out by the damp of the shower and the humidity of the room. It made him look younger. Briefly, Cye wondered how old he was.
A deep sigh from the taller man spoke to Cye of a barrier being crossed. This was not a man to whom touch was a casual thing. Not like himself and the Ronins. Aya's regular life probably didn't include bubblebaths or backrubs, let alone four best friends to snuggle up to whenever things got rough. Everything about Aya felt so isolated it made him hurt just to think about it. Just the thought of being that alone was frightening. Cye knew he'd probably go mad anymore without that whisper in his heart that was his friends.
He started gently, tracing each muscle on Aya's back. There was a terrible amount of tension there but Cye knew that using too much pressure right away, the kind he'd have to before he was done, would only hurt Aya. The bath oil slicked his hands, sliding them over skin easily. Unsurprisingly, here and there, he discovered small ridges, faint lines of white that blended with Aya's skin. They were small and round, very different from the blade slices he was used to. It took him a few moments to realize that they were the result of gunshots.
Cye's hands never ceased in their soothing, gentle motion but the differences between himself and Aya slammed home with a shock. He was a Ronin Warrior, bearer of Torrent and Trust, steeped in ancient magic. Aya was something else: agent, vigilante, assassin? Whatever he was, he moved in an entirely different world and that disturbed the Ronin profoundly. Except for those few moments in a club, they would have never met... Cye was surprised to find just how upsetting that thought was.
He chatted on then, filling the silence as he felt Aya slowly relax beneath his hands. It wasn't a proper massage of course, the position was all wrong but it was something. He rambled idly about his family, his friends, school, whatever, just to feed the need he had for Aya to know him. The redhead seemed disinclined to talk so he filled up the spaces.
It happened slowly, so slowly and carefully that Cye barely noticed it until the moment was already upon him. Aya had begun to relax. The muscles under his hands weren't quite so tense, and the pale, smooth back before him had even begun to sag a little bit.
Meshed with the physical relaxation came the tiny signs of a mental relaxation as well. Even when he shyly admitted that he sometimes still slept with his decade-old stuffed dolphin, Aya didn't flinch or snort. "Dolphin?" he repeated, just one word asking for clarification. After that, the single words came more frequently. Yuli? University? Party?
Aya didn't say much, but his few verbal gestures were starting to mean more and more to Cye. He was a puzzle to decode, but Cye was getting the hang of it. These small questions told him that the quiet boy was actually paying attention, and was maybe even interested in Cye's rambling about his life. Even the words he chose gave Cye small hints about him. Aya was less curious about the yoroi or White Blaze than he was about Cye's day-to-day life, his studies, and his friends. The things about Cye that made him normal... the things about Cye that made him Cye Mouri, not Torrent or Trust or anybody's lover.
It felt strange but good at the same time. He was so used to having two faces, the one that Mia and his brothers saw and the one for the rest of the world. It was so very odd to have Aya know them both in this peculiar place, but be more interested in just him. He finished up the backrub reluctantly and scrubbed the excess oil off Aya's back before he could protest.
"Why don't we get out and get lunch," he said, standing and reaching for a dry towel. "Then we can look at downstairs, I know there are a few more rooms down there." He stepped out and started drying, turning his back to give Aya a little privacy. It didn't seem the right sort of time to push.
~*~*~*~
Cye had made lunch: sandwiches and fruit and potato chips. Even if Aya had been in the habit of eating lunch, he never would have fixed himself such an elaborate stack of lunchmeat, cheese, sliced vegetables, and condiments. When he'd had something quite so good for him and quite so tasty before, he wasn't sure.
Possibly supper the night before.
When it came out that Aya never ate sandwiches, Cye chatted on about the lunches he made for his friends at home. Extra meat for Kento and Ryo, no cheese for Rowan, and spring rolls for Sage because Sage wouldn't eat sandwiches no matter how they tried to convince him they were delicious. He knew all their preferences, all their particularities, all their likes, dislikes, allergies and favorites. He even had three different kinds of mustard, he said, because all the boys preferred a different brand.
In the back of his mind, it occurred to Aya that he did not know half so much about the eating habits of the men he lived with. A vague recollection of Omi picking celery out of a salad was the best he could do. He declined to mention that in the course of Cye's conversation.
"Thank you," Aya said as they were cleaning up.
Cye looked at him, startled. After all, Aya hadn't said a word since they'd gotten out of the bath. "Thank me? Whatever for?"
"For lunch. And for the other meals." It was only polite to express appreciation for hospitality, and Aya had been lax in that. Cye was practically hosting him in his own home, even if that home was transplanted to some impossible countryside.
The shorter boy looked so touched that for a second, Aya was terrified that he might cry. Instead, Cye smiled, broad and bright enough to split his face. "Oh, Aya, you don't have to thank me! I like to cook. And it's much easier to prepare for two than for six. There's so little to do that it hardly seems worth getting out the pots and pans."
When the wall of dismissive words had subsided, Aya pondered the boy. Cye was already out in the hall, heading off to explore the downstairs rooms as they had agreed earlier. Falling into step behind him, Aya inquired, "Do they ever thank you?"
Cye turned to look at him and blinked, "Well, of course they do. Sage is always polite and ... well, I know they do most of the time. People get busy, you know? Besides, I like doing things for them, it feels good." He smiled again as Aya caught up. "I like to cook and am somewhat compulsively tidy. It works out fine."
Not entirely convinced, Aya nevertheless decided this was not the time to delve into Cye's relationship with the other four men. Clearly, Cye had no difficulties with what Aya viewed as a very unequal situation. He stepped up to the other boy's side, and moved down the hall toward a pair of solid-looking double doors.
Aya tested the handle to the room that Cye claimed was Mia's study. Much to his surprise, it swung open easily to reveal a gigantic room lined with bookshelves. Large open windows lit the room, sunlight falling on a few simple furnishings and illuminating the hundreds of volumes arranged neatly on the shelves.
Behind him, Cye gasped. "Is this yours?"
Surprised, he turned with a frown, shaking his head. "Isn't it yours?"
Cye slid into the room, drawing his fingertips along the spines of books shelved along the nearest wall. "No... I've never seen this room before. In my house, this is a great large room full of antique armor and weapons and Mia's desk. We don't have anything like this at home, there wouldn't be room for it all!"
Aya followed more warily, ensuring that the door was left open lest it decide to lock itself again. The doors in this house had a disturbing habit of doing that for no particular reason. He began a slow reconnaissance of the room, striding along the perimeter to take it all in. The shelves seemed secure, lining the room to keep all the volumes in view at once. In the center of the room, a soft couch and an overstuffed armchair waited, surrounding a low coffee table. Though he was certain he had never seen those furnishings before, somehow they seemed familiar.
"There's a full set of Dickens... the complete works of Verne!" Cye was exclaiming on the other side of the room. "Everything by Carroll... everything that we talked about the other day!" Sea-green shining eyes turned on Aya. "What's over there?"
He turned dutifully, inspecting a few of the nearest titles. "Poetry. A volume of Chandler..." Blinking, Aya reached out to touch the spine of the book in surprise. He had been contemplating buying it after being paid for that last mission. He had thought Aya-chan would enjoy him reading it to her.
"Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance,that's definitely Ryo's," Cye went on, hardly seeming to have heard Aya's report." He walked down the length of shelving, pausing to touch a volume here and there. "Hmm, Astronomy for Dummies, that's Rowan's. Kento got it for him as a joke last Christmas. Introduction to Seismology, which is Kento's and not a joke. It looks like everyone's bookshelves are here, from the serious stuff down to manga collections."
As Cye talked, Aya's attention was drawn to a book that lay on its side on one of the shelves, not stacked like the others. It was a thick binder rather than a bound volume, with a bright crimson cord wrapped tightly around it. He lifted it off the shelf, surprised at the weight of what he could now see was a photo album.
Carefully, Aya untied the red cord and unwrapped it, revealing the small kanji on the cover. 'Gratitude.' Gratitude? What a strange word to print on the cover of a photo album. Gratitude?
He moved over to the couch, sitting gingerly and placing the album on his lap. The sound of the cover cracking open drew Cye's attention, and he padded over to sit next to him. "What's that? 'Gratitude?' Is it yours?"
Silently, he opened the cover to the first slick page, and stiffened. Clasped in the clingy plastic of the photo album page was a photograph of a smiling, short-haired girl that looked disturbingly like his sister. Enough so that Aya almost closed the album again. The truth, however, hit him a moment later. It was really Sakura Tomoe, the girl who had pestered him since he had shadowed her on a mission months ago.
"Do you know her?" Cye insisted, leaning against Aya's arm as he peered over his shoulder. "Your girlfriend, maybe?"
Aya turned his head to glare disapprovingly at the boy, who only smiled genuinely back up at him. "Teasing, Aya. Just teasing. But you do know her, don't you? I could see you recognize her when you opened the book. Is she someone important to you?"
Frowning, Aya shook his head slightly. "Just someone I know." He quickly turned another page, hoping to distract Cye from his questioning into areas Aya did not want to reveal. The next two facing pages both bore photos of young boys, smiling merrily and waving at the camera. Both looked somewhat familiar, but he could place no name to either. Despite Cye's constant questioning, Aya continued turning pages.
Most of the photographs were young people, but a few showed adults or families. Some, he recognized as various people he had met through mission investigations. When Cye asked, he indicated the ones he recognized, but refused to give the boy any more detail.
Midway through the book, Aya turned a page and nearly dropped the thing off his lap. Smiling sweetly up at him with his head tilted and a cap turned backwards on his head, was Omi. The sight of a truly familiar face jarred him, and he stopped turning pages.
Naturally, Cye recognized the face immediately. "Hey! Isn't that one of the... " He glanced up at Aya, who refused to look back at him. "One of the guys you were with that night. The cute little blond with the crossbow, who tried to get everyone to stop fighting. Isn't that him?"
Aya said nothing, reaching to lift the page, making to turn it over. Cye's hand on his wrist forestalled any movement. "Gratitude, Aya. What did you do for these people? It's like the pictures are a thank you for something you did." He paused then, thinking and Aya felt a strange shiver where Cye's hand touched his.
"It's your... work, isn't it?" Cye said finally, his eyes never leaving Aya's. "You said something about those men that were killed at the club, that they were trying to take over peoples' minds. And for some reason they couldn't be left to the police..." Cye's hand tightened a little more on his wrist as if afraid he'd bolt. Which, going by their experiences together so far, was a perfectly reasonable conclusion for Cye to come to. "That's it, isn't it. You and the others hunt people that won't be punished..."
The peculiar thing, Aya noticed, amid the reflexive need to deny or draw away, was that Cye wasn't shocked or repelled. He was more questioning, looking for confirmation for the information that he'd somehow pieced together. Those sea-green eyes had gone dark but it wasn't from fear or anger. It was the same resolve Aya had seen in him when his friends had confronted Weiss in the alley. Remembering that the boy had seen that side of him was oddly distressing.
Cye's eyes bored into his though his grip didn't change. "I suspect you're prohibited from giving me details. That's to be expected, I suppose. But I need to know, are these people you've helped? Is that why you and the others do what you do?"
Tense, he sat silently and still, trying to will the questions away. He had known that Cye would ask again eventually. That seemed in the persistent boy's nature. Yet Aya still had no proper answer for such a direct, blunt question.
The feeling that had pinged his heart in the alley, the rush of blue fire that had touched him in that copse of trees, flared up for a moment in his chest again. Trust. There was no one here for Cye to tell. He had seen Weiss, he already knew they were guilty. The essence of Aya's darkest secret was already out.
"We do it because we are told to. We are not the judges, only the executioners." Aya spoke softly, meeting Cye's level gaze. When he fell silent, it was with deadly finality. No more information would be forthcoming just then, and after a brief silence, Cye accepted it. With a slight nod, the boy looked away and back to the book.
Aya flipped to the last page and paused as Cye gasped softly. It took the swordsman a moment to recognize Cye's companions. It was a casual picture with the group piled in a heap on the floor. The breathtaking blonde had his arm slung over the shoulders of a laughing boy with bright blue hair. The black haired leader held a redheaded woman on his lap and was using an enormous white tiger as a backrest. Cye was there too, mouth open in a frozen, silent shriek of laughter as the charcoal-blue haired boy tickled him.
It was just such a normal scene (well, except for the tiger), and he could tell, even in this static image, that they were family. There was something just so open and warm about it that he almost felt like he was intruding. Aya was so intent on looking that he was almost startled when Cye touched the photo hesitantly.
"This... was from Christmas last year, before we went to visit our families." Cye said, tracing faces with a fingertip. "We had so much fun that day, it was such a wonderful time." Aya could feel him shudder slightly, sitting close as they were. "I guess... I guess if we're in this book then you helped us out too."
Before Aya could respond his attention was captured by a small, breathless sound. He turned and caught the trace of silver running down Cye's face before the other boy hastily rubbed it away. "I'm sorry," Cye said, trying to smile, "I just miss them... I know it's only been a few days but they're so far away. It's so quiet and empty..."
That lone tear betrayed the crushing loneliness that Cye's smile tried to hide. Aya didn't know why he hadn't seen it before; the boy certainly talked about his companions enough. Though he kept up that cheerful face, living without his loves was weighing hard on him. Without thinking twice, Aya peeled back the protective film, and wedged the photo out of the page.
"Now they will never be far," he said in a voice so quiet it surprised him. He slipped the happy photo into Cye's limp hands, even going so far as to fold the slim fingers over the paper.
Cye looked up at him, his eyes a bright aquamarine that threatened to spill over completely. Panic rose in Aya's chest -- if the boy started crying now, what would he do? What *could* he do with a tearful young man who undoubtedly talked as much while sobbing as he did when in a fine mood? Aya froze for a few seconds, while Cye just looked at him with a quivery little smile.
Quite without warning, and quite without Aya's full understanding, Cye nestled up to him and insinuated himself in Aya's arms. The photo album was moved away to the coffee table, and Cye had his head on Aya's shoulder before he was quite sure what had happened. Slender shoulders shivered and hiccupped with a few quiet, lonely sobs.
Aya stayed absolutely still, dumbfounded. Cye seemed to want his comfort, but then again, there was no one else to give him any. Aya certainly wouldn't have been his first choice, but at the moment, he was Cye's only choice. Awkwardly, he settled an arm around the boy's shoulders. When the weight of his arm registered, Cye lifted his head to fix him with a small, watery smile. Grateful.
Something warm prickled in Aya's chest. He had done so little, yet it seemed to mean so much to Cye. The boy was nestling against him now, looking down at the photo of his friends. "They'll find us," he sighed, sounding more as if he were trying to reassure himself than Aya. "They always do. We'll be together again soon."
Before Aya could formulate an answer to that, a soft, pleased sound came from Cye. His eyes were closed, his face slack, his breathing was slow and regular. He had simply fallen asleep on Aya's shoulder, neatly curled up and leaning against his side. Aya's arm was going to fall asleep eventually, but he didn't wake the peaceful sleeper.
He needed some quiet, uninterrupted peace to think. The intimacy a few hours previous, the unchanging generosity of Cye's warmth toward him, the inexplicable images in the photo album meant for him. And the strange, unsettling light feeling in his chest when Cye had smiled at him moments ago. It all seemed to be leading toward something that Aya could not predict. He didn't like uncertainty, and he didn't like not knowing where he was headed. He would have to be firm and resolute, and continue believing that he would be victorious in the end.
"They'll find us," he repeated very softly to the silent room.
[ on to chapter 8 ]