They met in the unlikely forum of the trees.

The peaks surrounding the outlying areas of Kyoto were rough and wild, and a man could get lost there for days. The stark simplicity of Nature brought to mind ascetic monks, or the legends of virgins who purified themselves in devotion to a code or even a fighting style out here in the wilderness. Living out here had a simple give and take that put his most immediate priorities in order. Sooner or later, his very need to survive would bring him into conflict. The towering peaks of the mountainous region put his own very human needs and wants in the frame of something small.

So it made the agonizing over life and death seem very petty, and Yohji had never liked feeling small.

Yohji kicked at a stone and watched it skitter and bounce over grassy hollows, feeling somehow satisfied by the violence. The view was undeniably majestic. But the mountains were immense in a permanent sort of way that outstripped the manner a skyscraper dwarfed a man. He was broad-shouldered and tall by anyone's standards. Here he felt small and unimportant, and despised the feeling -- mostly for his attitude that it was true, and the rest of his personality was devoted to disguising that.

Somewhere back in a clearing, Ken and Aya were arguing heatedly over division of labor while Omi set up camp with a long-suffering expression. Yohji felt a flicker of guilt at leaving the boy to do all the work, but he had to put space between himself and them before tempers snapped.

One might ask what four Tokyo-city boys were doing deep in the mountains around Kyoto. Yohji was wondering that, himself. Mostly in terms of, 'how did I get dragooned into this?'

It wasn't quite a mission. It wasn't quite orders. It had become necessary to leave Tokyo for awhile and Birman had *strongly* suggested their travel plans. The shop had been deftly handed over to Momoe-san and money had been provided and as Yohji was still angling to resist Birman's arrangements, he'd found himself in a car traveling west.

Unusual situation, this. It wasn't like Manx and Birman to leave them utterly in the dark no matter what the threat. Were their lives in danger? It was only fair that they know.

What Yohji *did* know was that Ken snored in the car, Aya was a terrible driver, and Omi made an even worse backseat driver -- which typically ignited Aya's volatile temper. It was all so unfair.

Yohji shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and turned his face up to the warm sunlight. They were past winter and the breeze was still cool, but the scent of green growing things was definitely on the air. Perhaps it would be a nice little vacation.

As he stood motionless, he heard the sound of footfalls -- quiet but many of them, thudding over the hard-packed earth. Yohji tensed. He might be paranoid, but it sounded stealthy. So he hid behind a towering, thick tree.

What he saw next made him wish he'd *climbed* the tree. It was more than one man, like he'd thought -- a small group of men, actually, dressed in plain clothing. They were armed with silent weapons -- knives and other arms that wouldn't make a noise like guns would. Since they'd come in a different direction from the encampment, Yohji could only assume that they hadn't killed his teammates already.

Pressing himself flat against the tree trunk, his mind raced. This was a dangerous situation. Three men, maybe even four, he could handle all at once. This crowd of ten would overwhelm him. It wasn't certain these men were hunting for Weiss, but why else would they be deep in the mountains outlying Kyoto? Armed, no less. They were all wearing simple stealthy garb and they moved more professionally than the clumsy hired toughs that Weiss typically encountered. This must be the reason Birman had sent them "on vacation." Weiss was good, but so were these ones.

They'd made a mistake, though. Yohji had spotted them before battle was joined. If he could survive to warn his teammates, they'd have the advantage. Unfortunately, it was a gaping 'if.'

He hadn't moved. He was barely breathing. Yet one of the men motioned towards his tree, and another one detached from the group and glided towards him.

Shimatta!

Yohji clenched his fingers into the bark. There was only one option, really. He didn't want to die yet -- not in a place like this, a useless fight with a meaning he didn't understand. He reached up to an overhanging limb of the thick tree, and as silently as possible, hauled himself up.

The tree was very cooperative. It bore his weight and made no betraying noises as he climbed higher into thickly-leafed branches. Yohji gritted his teeth. It seemed cowardly to hide in a tree but he wasn't foolhardy enough to go up against formidable odds. There were still fleeting pleasures to life.

He propped himself on a mid-level branch, screened from sight by leaves. He sighed, barely audible. He turned his head and came nose to nose with a pair of wide, inquisitive brown eyes.

"A--" Yohji opened his mouth to yell and a slender hand clapped over it. The boy -- for a boy it was -- put a finger to his lips and shook his head. Feeling wary, Yohji nodded slowly and the hand withdrew.

There was a boy crouching on a wide branch next to him, dark of hair and eye, approximately Omi's age. He gave Yohji a sunny smile that instantly made him want to trust the boy -- and that roused further suspicion in his cautious mind. Then he glanced over the boy and his brows raised. The boy was wearing an old-fashioned hakama of a faded blue-lavender color, and a lighter blue almost kimono top over a western-style white shirt. In the crook of one arm he cradled a genuine Japanese katana, its saya worn, obviously a fine sword by the detail on the handle. The grip showed it was a well-used katana.

"And you are...?" Yohji whispered, putting his lips close to the boy's ear.

"I'm Seta Soujirou," the boy replied, mouth brushing Yohji's earlobe. The contact sent a spark through him and Yohji pulled back, stunned. The boy inclined his head, eyes inquiring.

"I'm Kudou Yohji," Yohji admitted. It struck him that it was kind of ridiculous to be making introductions in a tree. Even more so, to feel that surge of unmistakable sensation.

"Yohji-san, you seem to have some followers who wish you ill," Soujirou said quietly. "Either that, or they're here for me." He was still smiling, his tone pleasant as if they were discussing the weather.

"Aa," Yohji agreed, puzzling out the boy's oddly-accented Japanese. It was old-style, but not a Kansai dialect.

"You seem to be unarmed, Yohji-san," Soujirou said gravely.

With a sliver of his confident grin, Yohji unspooled a length of wire and snapped it taut. Sun struck it from the gaps in the canopy above and splintered into shards of brilliance dancing over the leaves.

"Ah." Soujirou's face shifted into that oddly disarming smile again, and he clicked free a thumblength of gleaming blade. "Shall we take care of them, Yohji-san? There really aren't that many."

At first Yohji controlled a guffaw, sure the kid was joking. Then Soujirou's face shifted into serious lines from that almost unnerving smile. He stared at the boy in mute amazement. Was Soujirou one of those strange people he'd been thinking about, who wandered the wilderness purifying his fighting style? His clothes were travel-stained and old-fashioned. For his years, he was incredibly confident. Ten against two seemed like long odds to Yohji.

"Don't worry, Yohji-san," the boy told him, smiling again, noticing his hesitance. "I'm called Tenken no Soujirou."

He processed that. *Soujirou... of the Heavenly Sword.*

Yohji made a split-second decision. If he let those men get away, his teammates could be slaughtered or seriously hurt if they were ambushed. "Let's go." They began to descend the tree, maintaining silence.

Singling out one of the nondescript men to the rear, Yohji looped the wire and snapped it between his hands. This was going to hurt; he didn't have his gloves. He flung the coil around the man's neck and yanked. Wire sliced into the throat, breaching windpipe with the force of his weight applied to wire, and the man toppled back with a soft gurgle instead of a cry. Yohji disentangled and another man was turning to check on his companion. He let out a shout even as Yohji threw the wire around him to trap and strangle him.

A blur of blue-lavender flashed past. Yohji couldn't spare much attention for Soujirou, since his attention was kind of occupied, but he realized that even if he'd been looking openly the movement was too quick for his eye. He finished strangling the current opponent and whirled, sensing someone behind him.

Knife descending, another assassin lunged for him. Yohji lifted his arm to block the strike and the man stiffened. A dark stain appeared on his shirt and Yohji saw Soujirou's dark eyes flashing over the man's shoulder. He twisted away and the man slumped, blood trickling from his lips, dying.

Yohji whipped loose a thread of wire, knocking a knife loose from another man who was trying to nail Soujirou. It was a useless task -- the boy was moving so fast he could barely see -- but Yohji followed up the disarming and garroted him. His palms were stinging, sweat dripping into the fine cuts. He looked for another opponent.

Soujirou hadn't been lying. He was *fast.*

There was one man left standing. He was trembling, eyes darting between Yohji, a coil of bloody wire in his hands, and Soujirou, who was calmly sheathing his sword.

*He's strong,* Yohji noted, astonished. *He's better than Aya -- this boy took out six men in how many seconds?* It was beyond belief. Soujirou was still smiling. That was the image that branded itself on Yohji's brain. A smiling boy killer.

"Tsuyoi," Yohji whispered. *He's strong.*

"Yohji-san," Soujirou called, "did you want to question this one?"

Ah, good idea. Yohji gave him a nod and strode towards the trembling man. The boy was quick-witted as well as fleet of foot.

The man backed up a step, then snatched up a dagger from one of his fallen comrades. With a strangled cry, he drove it into his heart. Yohji leapt forward but it was already too late. Eyes dark with triumph, the assassin fell to the ground, fingers still plucking at the knife that had killed him.

"That's too bad," Soujirou said regretfully.

Yohji looked down at the body. There were no identifying characteristics of clothing and he was sure the man wasn't carrying a wallet. Assassins generally didn't. "Definitely bad," he agreed. This was no good -- now they wouldn't know who had been following Weiss, and how they'd gotten here.

Soujirou looked clinically at the bodies. "I think these ones were after me," he said.

Yohji moved towards him. "What makes you say that?"

"Their clothes. They're dressed like policemen." Soujirou gave him a puzzled brown glance, as if it were a matter of course.

"Po-policemen?" Yohji repeated, befuddled. The men were dressed in plain, dark clothing. It didn't look like any uniform he'd ever seen. "It's not any policemen I've ever seen. Plainclothes?"

Soujirou's brow creased. "That term has no meaning for me."

Yohji floundered. Just how backwoods was this boy? "Ah... in disguise," he started. Stopped. Shook his head and gave up. Did it really matter? "Why were they after you?"

Soujirou turned to him with a smile, katana slung over his shoulder. His eyes had crinkled up. "Why, Yohji-san, how should I know why I'm being pursued by the police's elite forces?" The tone was innocent, but Yohji detected danger. Like the edge of his sword, Soujirou was quick and fatal. The smile was only a pleasant surface, the barest civilizing touch to his blade.

"You're better than you look," Yohji told him. There were levels to that. In terms of his sword, and also his ability to project innocence. Take Omi, for example -- not that Yohji ever had. The boy exuded a genuine quality of innocence, part of him untouched by what he'd done and seen. He was driven by necessity and he felt remorse for the worse parts. Soujirou's smile was a pleasantry, velvet over steel. There was a darkness behind his smile, maybe, that matched Yohji's own. But as for the men he'd killed, there was something empty in Soujirou's look.

If this boy had innocence, it had fled long ago.

Soujirou smiled at him. "Thank you, Yohji-san."

"We should get away from here," Yohji noted. "Dead bodies have a way of complicating a man's life."

It was an imperceptible shift, but somehow Soujirou's smiling face was chilling now, without dropping that smile. "That's true."

Yohji thought of bringing Soujirou back to camp. He did look like he could use a good meal. There was unexplained reluctance in him at the thought. This chance meeting was a little surreal, like two entirely different worlds were overlapping in this shadowed wood clearing. Soujirou's mode of dress and even his speech, to an extent, were a throwback to an older, more savage era. Though the way they'd both left bodies scattered behind him, Yohji had a feeling that with a change of clothes Soujirou would fit in quite easily with Weiss's exploits.

He didn't want to introduce him, though. Yohji wanted Soujirou to himself, and he wanted to know more about this strange boy he'd stumbled across in a tree deep in Kyoto's mountains. And there was deeper attraction there, and he admitted it to himself. It had been awhile since he'd felt a strong pull like this, a definite attraction for the boy with his lithe body and neat, spare warrior's movement. Now that the immediate dangers were over he could run appraising eyes over Soujirou, and did.

Dark eyes glanced over him, in turn. "Did you have somewhere in mind, Yohji-san?" Was there heat in his eyes? It was hard to say when they turned up in that unrevealing smile.

Yohji shrugged, reaching into his pocket for the crumpled pack. He eyed Soujirou and decided to abstain. "I don't really know these woods."

Soujirou's smile was a trace wry. "You don't really know me either, Yohji-san."

Yohji inclined his head, smiling slightly. "True." He hooked his thumbs into his jeans pockets. The boy seemed to be making an invitation, but if he wasn't... Ah, hell. Life was risk and sex, worth the risk. "We can change that pretty easily, Soujirou."

Soujirou's smile deepened almost imperceptibly. "Ah."

Yohji grinned at him, a tangle of dark gold hair falling over his eyes. Soujirou was smiling again, eyes crinkled up, a pretty, guileless expression. He was starting to recognize it as a kind of mask, like the one that sheltered Yohji's own hidden self. He wondered what it would be like to peel that away and watch his expression dissolve into passion.

Soujirou turned, katana propped on his shoulder, and walked off into the woods, making a gesture that seemed to indicate Yohji should follow.

Yohji grinned, raked his hair back, and did so.

One thing about more traditional styles of dress -- the hakama Soujirou was wearing concealed his butt rather effectively. Thus it was a disappointment to follow the swaying lean hips, and not be capable of ogling. Rather unfair, actually. But Yohji had hopes of pulling off the hakama sometime in the near future.

That was the beautiful thing about boy-love. Women required extensive courtship and exhaustive rituals until they reached the point where they were willing to surrender their 'innocence,' whether it truly was such or not. Among boys and men, willingness was usually established with a single glance, or a word, or the simple expediency of touch. Not that Yohji didn't enjoy women, once he'd succeeded in the elaborate dance of the courtship. But it was nice to be able to enjoy an uncomplicated fuck with a man whenever he pleased.

All right, he *did* want to get to know Soujirou better. But sex was a good way to get to know him, too.

Yohji grinned wickedly, an expression Soujirou couldn't see.

"It's just up ahead," Soujirou said. "I've been camping there for a few days."

"What are you doing in the Kyoto mountains?" Yohji said curiously. "I thought people only came here to train." There weren't really resorts or settlements in this particular area. A shrine or two, maybe. Tourists certainly didn't come here; native Japanese hardly came to this specific region.

"It's something in the way of training," Soujirou replied. "There was... someone... who pointed out a flaw in my style, my way of thinking. It requires a readjustment of my entire self, and solitude is a good way of accomplishing that. To be a warrior, I thought it was necessary to kill -- and in doing that, prove my strength."

"But you killed those men," Yohji pointed out.

Soujirou turned slightly, and that smile was on his lips. But it was the dangerous kind. "They hurried me," was all he said. Then he kept walking.

Yohji blinked. He had thought Soujirou was around sixteen or seventeen. He was still pretty sure that was the boy's age. But that chilling expression, those words, were of a man who'd been dealing with a killing life for far too long.

"So, like Himura-san, I'm a wanderer now," Soujirou continued. "I don't know how many years I've been up here. Time moves differently in Kyoto's mountains, I think. I went north for awhile, but then I realized that was a way of escaping the things that have happened. So I returned."

Yohji stuck his hands in his pockets. Interesting. He sensed that there were long stories behind many parts of Soujirou's explanation, but it wasn't his right to ask, and Soujirou would fill in the gaps if he wished to.

"This is it." Soujirou paused at the edge of a small clearing, a glimmering thread of water making a channel through the grass off to the left. A neat block of earth had been cut out of the soil and the remains of a fire lay in the dark square -- a good woodsman's trick, to prevent it from spreading to the trees. Near the firepit lay a small bundle.

"You're really roughing it," Yohji observed.

"It's not a hardship. I've never owned much, anyway," Soujirou said. "It makes wandering easier."

"It must be lonely," Yohji said after a moment.

Soujirou was silent.

He moved towards the little stream, and with one fluid movement seated himself on the grassy turf near it. Then he turned and gave Yohji that guileless smile. "Come join me, Yohji-san. If you're hungry, I can share what I have."

Yohji ambled over to Soujirou, admiring the boneless way the boy had moved. It was... interesting. He licked dry lips, and seated himself. There was still a proper amount of distance between them, but they were close enough... for now, while intentions were still relatively innocuous. "I'm not hungry."

"For food?" One eye opened, as if Soujirou was winking, then he added, "I hope, Yohji-san."

Yohji touched a hand to Soujirou's face. It was a dreamlike action, seeing he was real, noting the similarity in the back of his head to Omi, in a superficial way. They were both young, and smiled a lot, and they killed -- but Soujirou was here and pretty, dark and elegant in a way he hadn't encountered before.

"Yohji-san?" Soujirou's eyes opened from their smile, a dark questioning gaze.

He switched his intentions in the space of a heartbeat, running a finger over the boy's bottom lip. It was soft. Soujirou had tilted his head, eyes turning to acceptance as if the question had been answered.

"Is it really okay?" Yohji said, voice hushed. This sun-pierced afternoon in the trembling green hardly seemed real. The boy, slim beside him, graceful limbs clothed in lavender old-fashioned garb, was like an apparition that could disappear if he misspoke himself. He knew what he wanted; to uncover the youthful body with whipcord muscles that could unleash such deadly speed, and pleasure them both. But Yohji had to ask if it was all right, first.

"Yes, please do," Soujirou assured him, smiling guilelessly.

The seeming innocence of that smile was unnerving. Yohji ignored that, cupped a hand to Soujirou's smooth cheek, and bent forward to kiss him.

The answering lips against his were silken, meeting his with pressure. Reality was what they made here in this glen, not something dictated to them. Soujirou kissed him back, leeching uncertainty away with the firmness of his kiss.

The katana was set aside on the spongy turf as they grew more serious. Yohji slid his arms around Soujirou's lean body, kissing deeper. He licked the smiling mouth and was met by Soujirou's tongue, pressure and tangling, an elemental need to share this moment and their lust, mingling with the kiss. Soujirou gave up control to him, leaning back, opening his lips readily. "Yohji-san," he murmured, as Yohji pushed him down.

They lay on the grass and kissed for awhile, getting hotter. Soujirou's tongue was slick and welcoming. His skin was smooth and Yohji pushed aside his clothing, undoing the tie to his hakama, stripping away the light-colored smock. Soujirou met his mouth again with a small, urgent noise.

"You are lovely, Soujirou," he murmured, pulling open the simple white shirt, last barrier to the pale chest. Soujirou's nipples were dark and tiny against his light skin, already firm.

"That's nice," Soujirou smiled. "The only important thing about me before was my strength."

Yohji licked a nipple; smiled at the involuntary catch of breath Soujirou drew. "It's okay to be strong and beautiful." He licked the other, dabbled his tongue around it until the skin pulled tight. "Like a sword."

"Like a--" Soujirou's words were cut off in a gasp, as Yohji closed his mouth over the flesh and sucked, working it with his tongue.

He finished, milking the other nipple between his fingers, and gave Soujirou a lingering kiss on the mouth. He nibbled at the corners of his lips. Soujirou opened for him again, tongue flickering. Yohji kissed him again the way he wanted, all tongue and devouring mouth, and sought out the heat between Soujirou's legs. The boy gasped again, body going rigid. Yohji cradled the erection in his palm, massaging it, heat reaching his palm even through cloth.

"Yohji-san," Soujirou pleaded. Finger by finger he worked his way into Yohji's top, seeming confused by the lack of ties or buttons.

Yohji shushed him with another kiss and nudged Soujirou's legs apart, settling his own weight there. Watching the closed eyes, he replaced his hand with the heat between *his* thighs, and moved. A slow and subtle pressure. Soujirou opened his mouth and arched his back, thumbs reaching up to stroke Yohji's nipples.

"Nice," Yohji said, voice a little shaky. Eyes still closed, Soujirou nodded, breathed faster, and lifted his hips up. Yohji pressed him firmly down.

"Yohji-san?" Soujirou's eyes flew open.

"Not yet," Yohji cautioned, "not like that." He kissed him briefly, tongue and all, then moved to pay attention to the hard little nipples again. Soujirou liked that, the way his body tried to writhe. The boy was struggling out of his shirt and smock, pushing them completely off his arms.

He slid further and untangled the hakama from Soujirou's hips, pausing to kiss here, indent his teeth there. Soujirou was very responsive under him and each further inch of exploration made him struggle more, breathe faster.

Yohji knew what would please. He went straight for the hardness that was swelling up at an angle from creamy thighs, taking him in hand and pumping him, watching his eyes open, watching Soujirou's pupils dilate as he tried to push up.

"Yohji-san!"

He guessed he was enjoying the sound of his name on the boy's lips. He bent and licked the crown of the rosy penis, keeping a careful arm over Soujirou's hips. It wouldn't do to choke. He heard whimpering above him, grinned, and took Soujirou's length into his mouth. Lovely.

"Yo-Yohji-san!" Soujirou was struggling to get his hips free, to buck and submerge more of that lovely cock in his mouth. Yohji drew back.

"What do you want, Soujirou?" he asked sweetly.

"Yohji-san..." Soujirou trailed off, vainly trying to raise his hips again, and settled on a pleading note. "Please hurry up!"

"Am I being so cruel?" Yohji mused, making a wet line with his tongue from base to tip. Soujirou's breath sobbed.

"Please, Yohji-san!"

He grinned. Soujirou's voice was light and sweet and hearing him call his name so prettily was further arousal to him. He sat on his heels, tugging the lavender hakama off, rendering the boy completely naked. It was a beautiful sight. Soujirou was slender, as he'd known, his body spare and muscled like the well-tempered weapon it was. He was almost completely hairless, but for the silken dark hair on his head, and a small dark patch surrounding his blushing erection. His skin was smooth and Yohji loved touching it.

Dropping onto the grass to join Soujirou again, he kissed him, hands wandering. Soujirou was looking at him with those limpid brown eyes, turning to meet him, pressing the hard wet cock against his clothed leg. Yohji took it in hand again, pumping gently. Soujirou gave a shudder and crowded against him, exquisite noises tumbling from his lips. Yohji knew that if he stretched this out much longer, the boy might come a little early. Then a dreadful thought struck him.

"Soujirou," he touched the boy's flushed face.

Brown eyes opened. "Now?" Soujirou strained close, reaching for a kiss.

Yohji gave him one. It turned into several. "We can't," he told him, fingers moving more slowly over the stiffness of the eager sex.

Soujirou blinked, then something molten was in those liquid brown eyes. 'If you're not joking, Yohji-san," he said pleasantly, "I may have to kill you."

Their eyes glanced simultaneously to the worn katana lying on the grass.

"We can still do this!" Yohji assured him hastily, moving his hand faster. Soujirou gave a moan and arched against him. "Just no penetration."

"Yohji-san, that's the best part," Soujirou told him. Sharp teeth grazed his collarbone, then tugged at his lower lip, and it was Yohji's turn to gasp as a hand pressed against the throbbing denim at the juncture of his thighs. It flexed, and Soujirou's tongue pushed into his mouth with the same rhythm. Yohji began to suspect that this sweet smiling boy wasn't so inexperienced as he'd seemed, and was letting Yohji take the lead. Then Soujirou gave him a mind-blowing kiss.

Yohji was quite sure it took him a few minutes to recollect the scattered pieces of his brain.

"Can I convince you to change your mind, Yohji-san?" Soujirou breathed. Those lips were *so* close.

"Oh, yeah," Yohji breathed back, then tried to pull himself back together. "Uh, I mean..." Soujirou's hand hooked into denim, giving him rough friction, and his brain nearly fritzed again. He was inches away from rolling them both over, unzipping, and forcing them into coupled bliss.

"So-Soujirou, wait; there's nothing -- no lubrication."

"Oh." Soujirou was breathless. "Is that all?" He disengaged from Yohji, their limbs rather intimately entwined by this point, and got to his feet. It was quite a sight. He was barefoot all the way up, and there was the prominent point of his blushing hardness -- it was an attention grabber. Well, it surely got Yohji's attention.

The bare ass winked at him as Soujirou wove through the trees. He was on the verge of getting up to chase after him but his knees might buckle and after all, Yohji thought semi-coherently, such displays of energy were better suited to youth. Where was Soujirou going?

Yohji rolled onto his back, and stared up at the leafy canopy. Was this really happening? With Soujirou run off, the only evidence of reality was the throbbing cock taking up space in his pants, and that happened two or three times any given day. He shifted position and propped himself on an elbow. Okay, okay, there were lavender garments scattered on the grass, and Soujirou's weight had crushed it here and there.

Carefully, he unzipped his pants. Might as well be prepared when Soujirou returned, and *something* certainly was ready. Yohji winced for a moment -- why did he have to wear such damned tight pants? Oh yeah, advertising. Then he breathed easier, moving a hand up and down his swollen length. Where was Soujirou...?

"Found it!" Soujirou reappeared next to him, soundless on his bare feet. He sprawled in the grass beside Yohji, dropping a couple of really ugly flowers on the ground.

"For me? You shouldn't have," Yohji said with heavy sarcasm. Now that Soujirou was back in range he grabbed the boy's partially softened cock to reacquire his interest.

"Un!" Soujirou arched obligingly, smiling and breathing faster. "Yohji-san, I thought you agreed to penetration?"

"Well, yeah, but I don't want to hurt you," Yohji said doubtfully. Soujirou reached towards him for a kiss and Yohji obliged.

"Well, that's what these are for," Soujirou told him. He picked up one of the brownish blossoms and squeezed. A thick, milky substance oozed from it, looking extraordinarily like come. But it smelled sweet.

"The things you learn in the forest," Yohji said blissfully. He stroked Soujirou and the boy reached for his cock in turn, handling it roughly and quickly -- driving him crazy with need. "It's not toxic?"

"It's fine," Soujirou said, breath thready. "Used it before. *Now*, Yohji-san?"

"Now," Yohji agreed, scooping up the fragrant fluid with two fingers, and reaching past Soujirou's balls. The boy cooperated, lifting a leg without relinquishing his hold. Yohji groaned and buried a finger in the trembling-tight bud he found, desperately wishing it were his aching cock. It slipped in smoothly and Soujirou moved to meet him, cheeks flushed, eyes fixed on the hand that pumped steadily over Yohji's sex. Amazing. Was the boy built for pleasure?

He pushed a second finger in, letting go of Soujirou's hardness to grip his hip instead. Meeting little resistance, the next digit slipped in as well. Soujirou showed no signs of pain and that made Yohji groan -- if he didn't need preparing, he'd just as soon dive right between those lovely smooth cheeks. He was pretty sure a third finger might be some discomfort, but wouldn't his cock work just as well?

There was no logic to it, but Yohji wanted to get laid. Post-haste.

"Please, Yohji-san," Soujirou urged, eyes locking onto his. "You don't have to test me, just do it!"

He needed no further pleading.

He rose to his knees, guided one of Soujirou's legs over his shoulder, and pulled the other around his waist. Soujirou squirmed a little, acclimating himself to the slightly awkward positioning, then looked up at him with heat, hands stroking his own pale skin. That, of course, was a calculated move to make him harder than before. And damn him, it WORKED.

Yohji placed himself, watching Soujirou's eyes open all the way, then pushed in slowly. Soujirou lay still beneath him, eyes crinkling up again -- but it wasn't a pained expression. Yohji had to keep a firm grip on himself, sheathed in tight warmth, his hard cock being squeezed by those tight muscles as he buried himself.

Ooh, by the many gods and goddesses...

Just as slowly, he pulled back and thrust back in. Soujirou groaned and his eyes flew open. Yohji felt a jolt go up his spine as they made eye contact, and he buried himself again. What had been intensely pleasurable was now utterly vital and he groaned, too, bracing himself over Soujirou and pumping in and out.

The boy cried out under him as Yohji tossed aside his restraint, stroking deep, first hard and fast, then a slow pulsing stroke, changing his pattern, watching Soujirou's teeth bite into his lip and feeling hands tangle in his hair, touch his face, run up and down the taut muscles in his arms.

"Yohji... please..." The imploring cry made excitement sizzle in his already-overloaded system. He groaned and slipped his hands beneath Soujirou, cupping firm little buttocks, giving him leverage to fuck harder at a ruthless pace that made the boy shout and then bite into his lip again, to be quiet. He bent further over Soujirou, his hair falling into both their faces, bodies straining together and the leg hooking around him demandingly, hips rising into his relentless grind.

"Oh... gods..."

Yohji had enough awareness left to reach between their slick joined bodies and catch Soujirou's throbbing cock in his hand, pumping it with one hand while he braced with the other, shoving in and out of tight perfection to a demanding conclusion.

Soujirou went stiff under him, arching, heel digging into his flesh as he tightened, and wetness spurted over Yohji's fingers to mark their skin. Yohji's focus was defined entirely around point-of-entry, the rapid beat of his cock into Soujirou, who was still shifting beneath him, murmuring throaty encouragements. Yohji's breathing turned labored and he thrust harder.

"Soujirou... Soujirou... unnnh..." He was trembling. The boy clung to him, kissing his lips as Yohji bucked, hips jerking in tight little arcs.

"Come on... Yohji..." Soujirou pushed his tongue into Yohji's mouth.

With a soundless cry, he loosed himself, body still pumping, mouth gone soft on Soujirou's. His hips moved several times even after he'd finished. "Oh..." His head came to rest in the crook of Soujirou's neck. Salty skin was beneath his lips and he kissed it. He moved one last time, almost convulsively, then came to rest, body covering Soujirou's.

After breathing hard for several minutes, Soujirou's calm voice reached his ears. "Yohji-san, you're a bit heavy."

Yohji chuckled. It kept up as he shifted them to the side, still coupled. Then Soujirou, in an oddly young gesture, nuzzled his head beneath Yohji's.

"Thank you, Yohji-san," he said quietly. "That was very..." He trailed off, groping for an appropriate word.

"It was, wasn't it?" he said, a little surprised at himself. It had been intense and somehow exhilarating, like pieces that fit well. Not like being joined with something that had been missing -- more like an addition to his existing self. He was swept with a peculiar feeling. "Come back to Tokyo with me."

Soujirou's warm brown eyes blinked at him. "Yohji-san..."

"I know you can't," he plowed on, past the troubled expression, "I know you've got your training, and your wandering to do, and I've still got obligations too and I feel... maybe we weren't supposed to meet, but we have. And if this shouldn't be happening, since it has, it's all right to try and hold on to it." He finished and watched Soujirou's eyes turn up into his smile, and disappointment dulled the enthusiasm that had seized him.

"Yohji-san," Soujirou said gently, "I'm not ready to leave Kyoto yet."

"I know," Yohji replied, equally soft. "It's just..."

"But some day, I will." Soujirou's eyes opened and they were clear and honest. "When I do, it would be nice to have some place to go, not just wandering. And as for not being meant to meet, I can't say that -- I don't think it happened for no reason. I think we'll meet again."

Yohji nodded, and moved forward to kiss his mouth. Soujirou opened for him, their lips and tongues tangling with fervor. He felt himself slipping at last and disengaged, leaving room between their bodies. The air was cool against their damp skin.

"Would you like to come back to our camp? We have plenty of supplies," Yohji asked, feeling even this small request would be refused. Soujirou seemed very reclusive. For now, at any rate. He gave the boy a grin. "We can get a good meal into you, without you using up your food."

Soujirou smiled, a trifle mischievously. "Perhaps I don't want to share your company with anyone else, Yohji-san."

Yohji grinned. Maybe he was feeling a little reclusive, himself. Possessive was more like it. "I could spend the night here," he offered.

Soujirou shook his head. "You shouldn't make your companions worry. And I have to get going -- those men may be followed by others."

Damn. He'd almost forgotten that part. "Soujirou--"

Fingers touched his lips, pressing them shut in a gesture that was gentle. "No, Yohji-san. Don't say it, because I'm sure we'll meet again." The boy propped himself on one elbow, and smiled.

It was good his smile was so charming; Yohji knew he would remember it clearly. And he realized he was thinking as if he truly would never see Soujirou again, despite encouraging words. It made him want to speak against the fingers that silenced him. Instead he nodded, and reached for another kiss. He buried his nose in soft still-damp hair. Soujirou smelled good, like the woods around him. He wanted to store up these sensations.

After awhile, and a generous interval of more kissing, Soujirou lit the tiny fire in the earth pit and cooked a small meal for the two of them. It was quick, since as he'd said he wanted to get going, but Yohji was glad to eat with him even though he felt guilty for straining the boy's limited supplies.

Then it was time to say goodbye.

Soujirou wouldn't let him say it, of course, but Yohji generally called it as he saw it, and that was what they were doing. A kiss, a smile, and Soujirou gathered up his belongings, hanging the small bundle from the katana slung over his shoulder. Yohji stuck his hands in his pocket. Either it was watch Soujirou's back departing as he vanished into the trees, or he turned, himself, and walked away. There was reluctance in him to leave so quickly after the earlier intimacy.

Yohji cocked his head, hair tumbling over one eye. Soujirou replied with a smile, shaded with something more. An acknowledgment that their ways were parting.

"Turn away, Yohji-san," he said, his look understanding. "It's time to go."

Yohji nodded, gave him a tight grin. He turned and took a couple of short strides towards the trees. Then he half-stopped, looking over his shoulder. And as he'd expected, the boy was gone.

What was odd, though, was that the block of turf had been replaced in the firepit -- it must have been, because grass was firmly in place once more, where the little fire had been. Yohji stopped walking and looked at the patch of ground. It looked pretty normal from here. Maybe...

Yohji shook his head fiercely. That was ridiculous. But he walked up to the riverbank, the exact place where they'd come together, and poked around with his boots in the grass. He didn't find what he was expecting to find, but he did find something else.

Yohji knelt by the small stream, green eyes wide, reaching out with a hand that shook slightly. He touched the small cluster of brownish, unattractive flowers that was growing in the soft soil of the streambank. They were flowering up and down the stream, an unsightly bunch -- but their smell was sweet and fragrant. Soujirou had been gone only minutes. His lips had touched Yohji's, not so very long ago. These flowers looked as if they had been growing for many, many years.

He stumbled up and away from the stream, eyes wild.

Yohji hurried back to his teammates. His mind had shut down rather than try and process this strange-beyond-belief occurrence. In his hand, he clutched a dark, ugly, heavenly-aromatic flower. And he had no intentions of letting go.

Soujirou *had* said they'd meet again, after all.

~end~

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