The Theft of the Hallowed Staff

Cyamour was passing through a narrow alleyway, trying to squeeze past the crowds of people. The ground was soggy and splattered with mud, with shreds of rotten vegetables and bits of offal squashed into it, and he had to tread carefully to avoid stepping into one of the numerous puddles. Sweaty arms and soaked backs were pushing into him from every direction, and the shouts of hawkers, the heated conversations, the rapid haggling, all formed an unrelenting wave of noise that closed in around him. He groaned. Sweat was coating every inch of his skin as well, making his clothes stick to him uncomfortably. He hated the heat of the south. Absolutely hated it.

But then again, this was part of his training too…

Someone slammed into him roughly and Cyamour stumbled to the side with a yelp. Unexpectedly, he fell out of the throng of people into a dark alley, a mere little space between two buildings. He rubbed at his side awkwardly, glancing back up. The man who had pushed him seemed to have disappeared back into the crowd without even a word of apology. How rude of him.

Cyamour scowled. He stared resentfully at the narrow strip of blue sky between the roofs of the two buildings. It was the exact same shade as his hair. He wished it wasn’t. He wished it was grey or white, the pale colour of fish belly, with heavy clouds that would block the searing rays of the sun. He really wasn’t used to all this heat and the pungent odours that invariably accompanied it.

Cyamour sighed and lowered his eyes. At least it was slightly cooler here in the shade of both buildings. Maybe it was time for a rest… he had been walking for a long time before reaching this town.

Then, as his pupils dilated and adjusted to the darker environment, he noticed the little shop, a mini-tavern of sorts, sunken into the end of the alley. It was small, with only a few wooden benches and tables laid out. No one was there except for an old man hunched over at the back, wiping at something with a rag. Cyamour wouldn’t have identified it as a tavern if not for the stained cloth with the character for ‘tea’ on it waving in the breeze right outside it.

It didn’t look very hygienic or appealing, but then again, Cyamour didn’t really want to go out into the mass of stinking humans again without at least some good tea and perhaps food in his stomach to fortify himself.

He entered the little shop and his golden eyes widened in pleasure at the coolness of the interior. The old man turned around, beaming at the sight of a customer.

“Welcome, young master, to my humble teashop,” he said. His voice was dry and raspy with age, and yet Cyamour thought he could perceive an inner strength in the fullness of his syllables, the fluidity of his intonations. “Please have a seat.”

The blue-haired boy sat down at one of the benches, sighing in content as his weary muscles finally got some rest.

“What would young master like to drink?” the old man asked, still beaming. “There’s oolong tea, liang cha, chrysanthemum tea, lychee juice, and red bean soup.”

Cyamour was only half-listening to him – it the old man’s face, not his words, which drew his attention. Something about it seemed off, somehow. It was wrinkled, and tanned from the constant sun in this place, but that was normal...

It was the mouth, Cyamour realized. When he talked, only his mouth would open and close, but the rest of his face remained completely still, motionless, as if the wrinkles were chains locking his face muscles in place. And even though the mouth was beaming, it seemed stiff, somehow reminding Cyamour of a smiling corpse. But… his eyes…

The old man’s eyes were absolutely stunning. Bright, shining with the vitality of youth, two black orbs gleaming like pools of liquid night. They were beautiful, smiling eyes, the black colour contrasting prettily with the white of the sclera – there were no reddish capillaries marring it – and the fact that such lovely eyes were buried, surrounded by mounds of desiccated, crinkled flesh, made the old man’s face highly disturbing. Usually Cyamour liked looking at old people with youthful eyes, but this old man was different. Those eyes simply did not belong in that face. He continued to stare, trying to find out what exactly was it that made them so incongruous with the rest of the old man’s features.

“Young master? What would you like to drink?”

Cyamour started at the old man’s voice. He blushed, realizing that he had been staring, quite rudely in fact.

“Ahh… ermm…. I… I think….” he stammered. “It’s really quite a hot day, and I’m sweating really badly already, so could I have something cooling please? I’m from the north, you see, and I’m not used to all this heat yet so I…”

He trailed off, blushing even more as he realized he had been rambling just slightly. But the old man had already walked off to the back of the room, laughing merrily.

“Is that so? Well, then, you should have some of my chrysanthemum tea,” the old man beamed as he sieved some clear golden fluid from a pot into a porcelain bowl. “It’s a cooling herb, perfect in this hot weather.”

The old man shifted to the side slightly, so that Cyamour could no longer see his hands handling the bowl.

“So you’re from one of the northern cities, eh?” the old man continued to speak, and even though Cyamour couldn’t see his face, he could still hear the friendly smile in his voice. “What brings you down here, then? It’s rare to see such a young man like you wandering so far from home alone…”

“I’m not that young. I’m seventeen years old already,” Cyamour replied, pouting a bit. People always thought that he was only about thirteen or fourteen years old, apparently due to his cute features, especially his huge, innocent eyes. Logically, he knew it was an advantage as people would underestimate him, but still it was kind of annoying to have people treat him like a child all the time.

“Actually, I’m a student from the Flying Crescent Sect,” he continued. “I’ve finished my basic training, and my master thought I was ready to get some real combat experience, so he sent me out to travel jianghu.”

His master had told him that it was better not to reveal his identity to strangers. It would be more advantageous if he kept his fighting style secret from potential enemies. But this old grandfather was a civilian…. so it should be okay, right?

“Oh, you’re a member of the wulin?” the old man exclaimed with a tone of surprise as he brought the bowl of tea over to the table and set it down in front of Cyamour respectfully. “Please forgive me my rudeness… how should I address you, young hero?”

“Haha, I’m just a novice on my first journey, you don’t need to be so formal,” Cyamour grinned at the old man, feeling a little uncomfortable at being called ‘young hero’. Some of his elder martial brothers who had already established small but respectable reputations in the wulin community might be worthy of the form of address – not him. “Just call me Cyamour.”

His fingers closed over the sides of the bowl. He gasped. The bowl was icy cold. There was even slight frosting at the edges. He stared up at the old man, gaping.

“How…?”

There couldn’t possibly be ice here, right? In such a hot town, any block of ice brought here would melt instantly, right?

The old man just beamed at him.

“Trade secret.”

There seemed to be an extra sparkle in those dark eyes. Trade secret, eh? Cyamour thought. Fair enough. More importantly, he was hot, and now that there was a cold drink before him, he found himself exceedingly thirsty.

He drank the chrysanthemum tea in a few large gulps, loving the way the sweet coldness glided down his throat and spread out through his body. Aaahhh….. It almost felt like he was back home again.

“Can I have another bowl?” Cyamour grinned happily as he handed the bowl back. The old man chuckled and turned around to refill it.

“Do you want some snacks as well, Master Cyamour?”

The blue-haired boy perked up at the mention of snacks.

“Do you have pastries? Cakes?” he asked hopefully.

The old man laughed again.

“I’m sorry, no…”

Cyamour’s face fell.

“…but I do have dumplings, do you want some? The fillings I have are red bean paste, sugar egg paste, lotus paste, shredded coconut…”

Cyamour’s golden eyes started to sparkle. He had to forcibly remind himself not to drool.

“I want two with red bean paste! And another one with shredded coconut, please!” he chirped happily.

“Please wait for a few minutes, I’ll heat them up first,” the old man said, still beaming, and went out through a narrow back door. The grey flap of cloth concealing it fell back into place and soon Cyamour heard the crackling sounds of a fire.

That beam was starting to unnerve him. The old, wrinkled face seemed to be perpetually frozen in a grin. Not that it was unpleasant… it just seemed… somewhat… unnatural.

Cyamour sipped at his chrysanthemum tea, mentally berating himself for his thoughts. The old man seemed nice and friendly enough, who cared about how he looked?

“So this is your first trip to the southern states?” the old man asked, emerging from the back of the shop after some time. He was carrying a small bamboo tray. Cyamour’s mouth watered as the fragrant smell of the dumplings drifted to him.

“Yeah,” Cyamour said, smiling as the old man placed the tray before him. “My first time out of my home state, actually.”

Then he bit into one of the dumplings, and felt the whole world slowly drift away as the sweet bean paste melted on his tongue. Oohhhh this was heaven…

“Haha, is it that good?” the old man asked, chuckling as Cyamour gulped down the red bean dumpling.

“… It’s awesome…” Cyamour breathed, and reached into the tray for another one. “I can’t believe it! The other day I went to this fancy restaurant and the dumplings they sold there are nowhere as good!”

The old man just beamed happily as he went to the back of the room. He got out a wet rag and started wiping the counter down.

As Cyamour savoured the sweet shredded coconut, he wondered why this grandpa’s shop didn’t get more customers, considering that the tea and snacks were so good. Probably because it was hidden in such a small alley, Cyamour concluded, as he finished off the last of his snacks. He himself had found it completely by accident, right?

“Hey… grandpa?” he asked hesitantly, as the old man refilled his bowl with more cold chrysanthemum tea. “Why don’t you go sell your dumplings outside on the street, where people can find you easier?”

“Hahaha! The street? Haven’t you seen the condition it’s in?” the old man said, laughing.

Cyamour nodded sheepishly. Indeed, the streets had been full of hawkers squabbling over spaces to put up their stalls.

“My old bones aren’t up to fighting for all the good locations… and… more importantly...” His aged voice dropped to a whisper. “…this shop is an important place to me…”

Cyamour noticed that although the old man was looking in his general direction, his eyes had become somewhat unfocused, like he wasn’t really looking at him, but at something else, something in the distant past. He remained silent, not wanting to disturb the old man’s reminiscing.

“You probably weren’t born yet when it happened, but quite a long time ago there was a terrible drought,” the old man said, almost as if he was speaking aloud to himself. “My wife and I were farmers at the time… it was horrible. Crops and cattle dying, no water to drink… and everyday there was the sun, the accursed sun, the murderous rays smothering everything with heat…”

Cyamour had lived all his life in the cold regions of the north, so he hadn’t experienced anything like the old man was describing to him now. But still a shudder ran through him at the thought that he was already finding this temperature unbearable, this temperature that people here regarded as normal. He didn’t want to imagine what would happen if he ever experienced a drought like the one the old southerner was describing right now with such dread.

“It was fortunate I had friends that could lend us some money so that we could move here, where the drought wasn’t too bad. My wife wanted to open up a small business, a small restaurant, with the money we borrowed… and this was the place she chose. We couldn’t afford renting one of the larger buildings… but she said that we could expand the place after we earned more money, make it as nice as the best restaurants in town…”

The old man sighed.

“…but she left this world before we could realize her dream. And I didn’t have the heart to continue after that…”

Cyamour stared into the golden liquid in his bowl. So that was it...

“You must miss her a lot,” he said softly.

“Haha, you get used to it,” the old man replied, still beaming, but Cyamour thought he could detect a hint of sorrow in his voice. “Anyway, it’s not a bad life, living here like this. It’s quiet, it’s cooler, I earn enough to feed and clothe myself… But what am I doing, rambling about my life story to a customer like this? I’m sorry, I seldom get the chance to talk to a nice young lad like you, young master, so…”

“No, it’s okay, I don’t mind,” Cyamour said quickly, and the old man gave a small laugh.

“You’re a very kind person, Master Cyamour.”

Cyamour blushed and the old man laughed again.

“Well, enough about this grandpa’s boring life. Tell me more about your journeys, young master. Surely you must have encountered many interesting people, heard many wondrous tales that this old man has never heard of.”

“Ahaha, not really,” Cyamour said lightly. “It’s been mostly an uneventful journey for me so far. Well, unless you count the time when I was passing by this river and I saw those two bullies…”

He then launched into the story of how two rich young men were trying to force a pretty flower girl into joining them on their pleasure boat when she didn’t want to. When he came to the part where he knocked both of them into the river with his boomerangs, the old man laughed and clapped his wrinkled hands.

“Serve them right! Those upper class bastards always keep bullying us poor folk.”

“Yeah, I know,” Cyamour said, grinning. “…but other than that, mostly I’ve just met all those people from various sects, you know, in taverns and places like that, heading for the Grand Tournament, but then again they never talked with me much so I never got to hear any stories…”

A hint of a frown had crept onto his face. He disliked it when people treated him like a newbie. The fact that he was a newbie somehow made it worse. By the third time a small group of travelling martial artists had given him the cold shoulder Cyamour had resolved to start training like crazy so that he could become stronger and prove to all those people that he wasn’t someone to be ignored.

But the old man didn’t seem to notice the darkness in his tone. His attention had been captured by a single phrase.

“The Grand Tournament?” he exclaimed in his dry, raspy voice. “You mean the Wulin Grand Tournament? I don’t know much about it, but isn’t it the biggest wulin event that every martial artist has to attend?”

“Yes, exactly!” Cyamour said, nodding excitedly, his depressing thoughts fading away for the moment. “It’s a MASSIVE event.” He waved his arms around in a big circle, trying to convey the hugeness of the tournament. “Every single sect or school will almost always send a team of representatives to the Grand Tournament, and that’s not counting all the people who go to watch for fun!”

“Ahh, so that’s why there have been so many travelers passing through the city recently! They must all be heading to the tournament thing…”

“Yeah,” Cyamour agreed, slightly amused to hear of the Grand Tournament being described as a ‘tournament thing’. “Including me. I’m supposed to meet the rest of my sect’s representatives at the Tournament. They’ll probably be setting off later, maybe next month.”

“So what happens in the Grand Tournament? Everyone fights to determine who’s the strongest?” the old man asked.

“Well, sort of. You know that in the wulin community there are lots of rankings and all, right?”

The old man just looked confused.

“…I guess you don’t, then,” Cyamour said, grinning sheepishly. Of course, the old grandpa was a civilian. “Well, in wulin, there are a lot of rankings… Some people consider the sect rankings the most important ranking, like, how powerful the sect as a whole is. Because it concerns the reputation of the entire sect. Right now the most powerful sect is Shaolin Monastery. You’ve heard of Shaolin Monastery, right?”

“Of course,” the old man said, laughing. “Everyone knows about Shaolin.”

“Yeah, so that’s based on the sect’s overall performance in the Grand Tournament, their general reputation, the number of their members and all sorts of complex stuff,” Cyamour explained. “Then there are the weapon rankings, as in, who’s the most powerful person using a certain type of weapon. Let’s take the staff as an example. All the people who use staffs as their primary weapon can enter the staff category tournament, and fight it out to see who’s the strongest. The staff ranking is then based off the results of that tournament. There are also the skill tournaments, which are similar to the weapon tournaments, but based on different skills. Like the qing gong tournament.”

And the old man was looking confused again.

“…Qing gong? What’s that?”

“Ah, it’s a skill involving how fast and how light you can move, and how high and far you can jump. Usually people use internal energy to boost their movements. Different sects have different techniques, though. I’ve heard that it’s always really fun to watch, especially the races. But the jumping competitions can be exciting as well. I remember my martial brother telling me of this one time where the assistant leader of the Wudang Sect (that’s the second most powerful sect right now), this real old guy, he jumped over this monstrously high wall and landed like a feather, without a sound, on the other side. I heard that he didn’t even disturb a single grain of dust.”

The old man looked completely awed. Cyamour giggled at the look on his face.

“Apart from the more normal tournaments, there are also some weird competitions,” he continued, smiling. “Like the stealing competition which is started randomly without notice, and the targets are always the people who are attending the Grand Tournament as well. But you always get the stolen stuff back because returning the stuff within a certain time limit is also part of the challenge, I’ve heard. Usually the Beggar Sect is dominant in those types of competitions. And then there’s the calligraphy competition and the art competition, where people try to draw or write stuff while fighting off ranged attacks from random directions. And then there are the drinking competitions, both formal and informal, and the eating competitions as well… but those are purely for fun, I think.”

“How interesting!”

“And then there’s the main tournament that decides who’s the strongest individual in the whole wulin community!” Cyamour exclaimed, waving his arms excitedly about. “Usually it’ll be people from the major sects winning all the serious tournaments, but then occasionally some crazy strong individual who doesn’t belong to any particular sect will come along and win. Then it gets really interesting because the higher ups of the various sects will be rushing about trying to figure out who this strong newcomer is and nobody will know and the whole tournament gets thrown into confusion and it’s really fun to see how everybody reacts and stuff. Or so my martial brother tells me.”

“This tournament sounds rather entertaining,” the old man commented.

“Yeah, but incredibly dangerous as well,” Cyamour said, soberly now. “Lots of people get injured in the tournaments, and despite all precautions, occasionally someone gets killed. Especially since with all the rivalries and hostilities going on between the clans. Even though no one admits it openly, because officially it’s supposed to be a time for peace and friendly competition, people sometimes take the chance to… settle grudges… and stuff…”

Cyamour trailed off. Although he still had a beam on his face, the old man seemed somewhat anxious after hearing his words.

“Please be careful, young master. A nice young man like you doesn’t deserve to get hurt.”

“Haha, I’ll be fine,” Cyamour said, touched by the old grandpa’s concern. “I’m not strong or famous enough to have any enemies. No one’s going to be interested in some weak newbie from a minor school like the Flying Crescent Sect.”

The thought made him feel relieved and depressed at the same time. No, someone like him wouldn’t be perceived as a threat at all. He could see the indifferent faces of the fighters he had met on his journey, faces that said, you are nothing, you are not part of the stories that we are creating, you are a bit player, an extra, a weakling in a sea of weaklings, your existence is of no consequence...

Cyamour’s throat clenched. I’ll train and get stronger, he thought. I’ll become as strong as my martial brothers. I’ll become stronger than them. Then nobody will be able to deny my existence anymore.

The old man must have noticed his dark expression this time, as his voice was gentle as he spoke.

“Actually, I think that people are going to become very interested in you in the future,” he said, eyes crinkled up in a smile.

Cyamour looked up at the old man, not comprehending.

“You have kindness. Compassion. The desire to help others in need. Those are the qualities of a truly strong warrior. Those qualities will drive you to greater levels of skill than those who are motivated solely by personal gain. For what it’s worth, I think that one day you’ll become one of the strongest of your generation.”

The old man laughed sheepishly at his own words.

“Not that I would know anything about fighting or anything like that. Just a feeling,” he continued, beaming happily. “But next time, if you feel discouraged or depressed, remember that this old grandpa will always support you in spirit, wherever you are, whatever you might become.”

Cyamour stared into those twinkling black eyes. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He felt like crying. No one, no one had ever encouraged him like that. Not even his master. He wanted to say thank you, thank you so much for saying that to me, but the words choked and died in his throat.

The old man smiled reassuringly at him and was about to speak again when the wooden doors slammed open.

“Ryuuzaki Yoru! We know you’re here!”

Cyamour’s head whipped around, his eyes widening in surprise. What...?

Two figures, one male, one female, were standing in the doorway. They were both clad from head to toe in black, with cloth masks tied around their faces, so all that could be seen of them were their gleaming eyes. The female was slightly shorter than the male, but their stances, their hostile expressions were almost exactly the same.

Cyamour’s first reaction was: Ninja?

But he couldn’t be sure... and more importantly, why were they here?

The old man seemed stunned into silence by the sudden intrusion. A few moments passed before he spoke up, his voice quavering with shock and fright.

“Er... Ryuuzaki Yoru? I’m sorry, I don’t think you’ve come to the right place - ”

“You can stop playing games now, Ryuuzaki-san,” the male snapped.

“We know it’s you. You underestimated the abilities of the Hinoryuu spy network.”

“Now hand over the Hallowed Staff!” the female exclaimed, her eyes narrowed as she glared at the old man.

“I... I don’t understand...”

Cyamour stared at all three of them. What was going on? Who was this ‘Ryuuzaki’ they were talking about?

The male was shaking his head slowly.

“Please, Ryuuzaki-san. If you keep insisting on maintaining that charade...”

“... then we have no other choice but to attack,” the female snarled.

In an instant, both of them had gone into fighting stances, weapons flashing into their hands. The male had drawn out a short sword, the type that was often used by novice adventurers. The female, however...

Cyamour gasped as he saw the two metal calligraphy brushes in her hands, the points glinting silver. Those were judge brushes, thick and long, highly lethal weapons that were difficult to use effectively, which said a lot both about the woman’s level of skill and her identity. Only a few sects trained their students in the use of judge brushes. And of those sects, the most famous was the Hinoryuu that one of them had mentioned.

Were they fighters from the Hino school? It seemed like they weren’t ninja after all. But what were they doing here, threatening an old man? He had heard only positive things about the Hino sect; all of the members maintained a strict code of honour, and were one of the most active groups in eliminating wrongdoers and corrupt officials. So why were they...?

His train of thought jerked to an abrupt halt as the two intruders rushed in, obviously intending to attack the old man. Without thinking, Cyamour pulled out two of the throwing knives strung around his waist and flicked them out towards the attackers, aiming to hit their wrists so they would drop their weapons. The female parried the knife with a clang as the metal of the judge brushes hit the metal of the blade, while the male simply dodged backwards, letting the knife sink harmlessly into the wall.

Cyamour continued to bombard them with throwing knives until he had forced them back enough so he could position himself between them and the old man behind the counter.

“Run, grandpa! I’ll hold them off for as long as I can,” he said in a fierce whisper, whipping out his daggers and holding them in a defensive stance. His preferred weapons, the boomerangs, wouldn’t be of much use in such close quarters. Beads of sweat had started running down his brow. He was facing two opponents, both much stronger than him, with a weapon he was only moderately good at using. He had no chance of winning. He only hoped that he could stop them long enough for the old man to get away.

He didn’t want to think about what might happen to him afterward.

“I... I can’t...! They’ll kill you! I can’t just leave...” the old man stuttered.

“Stay out of this, little boy,” the woman said, sounding extremely annoyed. “Don’t go meddling in affairs you know nothing about.”

Cyamour glared at her. It was that same tone of voice again, exactly the same as those people who thought he was nothing, a no-face from a lowly sect...

“The last time I checked, people from the Hino sect didn’t go around attacking helpless old people,” he retorted angrily. “Do you have no shame? No honour?”

The male rolled his eyes while the woman smacked her forehead with her palm.

“Helpless? Helpless? HIM?” she yelled, flinging her hand out towards the old man in a violent gesture.

“Give him a break, martial sister. It’s not like we wouldn’t be fooled if we were in his place,” the male said, before turning to address Cyamour directly.

“Listen here, boy. The so-called helpless old man behind you is a wanted criminal in disguise, a sadistic, evil bastard. He’s probably having the time of his life now watching you defend him like this. Do you get it? The only reason he isn’t trying to run away from us is because he wants to see you suffer.”

The words hit him like physical blows. Cyamour shook his head. No. It wasn’t possible. Such a gentle, loving person, who was living so quietly and peacefully in the place holding memories of his wife, such a kind person who had said such encouraging things to him... it just wasn’t possible.

“You must have made a mistake,” he said, his voice stronger than he felt. “This grandpa here can’t be a criminal.”

“So some of us thought...” the woman muttered darkly. She hefted her brushes again. “Listen, kid. We’re not attacking you because it goes against the principles of our sect to attack the innocent... however misguided they might be. But my patience is limited. Step aside or I’ll be forced to hurt you, boy.”

Cyamour’s eyes met her glare without flinching. He didn’t move from his defensive position in front of the old man. He was trembling inside, but his hands were steady as he held his daggers, ready to intercept her incoming attack.

The woman’s eyes narrowed.

“There is a fine line between courage and stupidity, kid,” she snarled.

“You leave me no choice. Prepare to die!”

She hurtled forward, the metal brushes heading straight for the acupressure points that would paralyze him. Cyamour’s first instinct was to dodge – but no, the old grandpa was right behind him. He had to parry. His arms moved swiftly into position, ready to block her attack – but she was too skilled, too strong, one of the metallic points had already passed his defensive line –

Just before the point of the brush jabbed into an acupressure point on his shoulder, the woman froze.

Then someone rushed past him so fast their form barely registered on the edges of his peripheral vision.

Cyamour turned around, barely in time to see a person leaping over the counter, their hand drawn back in the shape of a claw. He nearly screamed as the person’s fingers dug right into the old man’s face, tearing through flesh, ripping off the layer of wrinkled skin – he didn’t have time to wince, to turn his head away from the mass of blood and exposed tissue he expected to see, to shut his ears from the screams of pain he expected to hear – and so he looked on, his heart stopping, his eyes wide open with horror as the person tore the old man’s face off –
– only to reveal the most beautiful face on a man that Cyamour had ever seen. For a split second, it was like time itself had stopped, and all Cyamour could see were angular features, smooth, flawless skin, and thick dark eyelashes that were the exact same shade as the beautiful black eyes.

Now he knew why those eyes had seemed so incongruous in that old face. They had been the only thing he hadn’t been able to disguise.

The realization that the old man had been a fake all along hit him and he couldn’t help letting out a soft moan.

He was an idiot. The masked attackers had been telling the truth, this person was a wanted criminal called Ryuuzaki Yoru, and he had completely fallen for his act.

He had soaked up the lies so easily, basked in all the praise and attention...

Idiot, idiot, I’m such an idiot..

Time seemed to shift back into its normal speed again as Ryuuzaki caught the hand that had destroyed his disguise and used the momentum of the attack to pull his attacker forward, throwing him off balance, before slamming one knee right into the person’s ribs. The person went crashing into the nearest wall, almost knocking a hole in the wood.

And then Cyamour heard the masked man shouting at him.

“Run, kid! Get out of here!”

But before he could react, Cyamour felt someone stab a few of his acupressure points shut, paralyzing him. Strong arms circled him, dragging him to the back of the shop.

“Don’t try to attack,” a warm melodious voice sounded from above him. Ryuuzaki – whoever he was – sounded nothing like the old man he had been impersonating so well. Despite his dire situation, Cyamour couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration for his acting skills, and the same thing, disgust at the purpose those skills had been put to. “Or I’ll tear this boy’s throat out.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Cyamour could see that Ryuuzaki’s fingers were curved into a claw shape at the side of his throat. The skin there was brown and wrinkled, and for a brief moment he wondered how he’d managed to make it look so realistic before getting distracted by the intense cold radiating off the hand. He shuddered. Yin internal energy. So that was how the old man had cooled down the chrysanthemum tea... Cyamour had to bite back hysterical laughter at the thought of the advanced technique being used for such a mundane task.

The person who had been kicked into the wall finally stood up, swaying slightly, before spitting out some blood to the side, the small mass of red liquid making a small splashing sound as it hit the floor. Cyamour thought he could hear Ryuuzaki’s breath hitch slightly at that, but he couldn’t be sure. His attention was now focused on the mysterious person that had attacked Ryuuzaki so swiftly. Now that Cyamour had a chance to get a good look at him, he was surprised to find that the boy didn’t look that much older than him. He wasn’t that much taller either.

“Akatsuki-senpai!” the masked man exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” the boy replied, his eyes never leaving Ryuuzaki. “Why didn’t the two of you wait for reinforcements before attacking?”

“We… we’re sorry, senpai, we just thought that - ”

“Quiet. I don’t want to hear your excuses right now. Tend to your martial sister first.”

“Y… yes, senpai.”

Senpai. Elder martial brother. So this Akatsuki person had to be another member of the Hinoryuu, then...

Cyamour saw that the masked man had moved the woman back to the front corner of the shop, out of the way of the fight, and he was now jabbing at certain acupressure points in her back. Finally, with a gasp, the woman regained the ability to move, and she started massaging her limbs to get the blood flowing into them again.

It was then that Cyamour realized that she had frozen in mid-attack because the person called Akatsuki had paralyzed her on his way in by closing down her acupressure points. Why had he... ah... right. The Hinoryuu code prohibited harming of innocents.

“It was your own fault...” the man was chiding her softly. “You shouldn’t have lost your temper like that... Apologize to Akatsuki-senpai later, okay?”

The woman nodded, chastened, and they both moved into defensive stances in the corner of their shop, well out of the way of any potential fighting that might break out. They both looked at Akatsuki, seemingly awaiting further instructions on how to proceed.

“You two over there,” Ryuuzaki said calmly. “Drop your weapons. Or the little boy dies.”

Cyamour shivered as the coldness intensified. No, he didn’t want to die yet, he was too young, he had his whole life in front of him...

The female seemed furious but the guy called Akatsuki shot her a look and she, along with her masked partner, proceeded to lay their weapons on the ground.

Cyamour’s eyes widened as the implications sank in. The ability to close acupressure points with precision at such high speed. The way the two strong fighters deferred to him. This Akatsuki had to be, at the very least, a high ranking disciple. Maybe even the highest.

Maybe... maybe he had a chance.

Then he remembered the casual manner in which his captor had kicked the other boy into the wall. Then again, maybe not.

Akatsuki was still staring at Ryuuzaki, a neutral mask firmly in place.

“Let the boy go, Ryuuzaki.”

“Only if you let me go peacefully as well, though we both know that you won’t.”

Ryuuzaki was smiling. Cyamour could hear it in his voice.

“Let him go and beat me in a fair fight. Then I’ll let you go.”

“There’s no such thing as a fair fight, Akatsuki. Plus your underlings are there waiting to support you.”

Akatsuki’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. He was visibly trying to restrain his anger.

“...Why are you doing something so unnecessary? We both know you’re more than capable of taking on all three of us at the same time.”

“Perhaps it’s simply because I do not have the desire to fight with you anymore, my dear martial brother,” Ryuuzaki replied. Even though his voice was steady, Cyamour could feel his hands trembling and hoped fervently that he wouldn’t accidentally pierce his throat with his clawed, freezing fingers. “Now, do as I say, or –”

“Did you do it?” Akatsuki interrupted. His voice was soft, but Ryuuzaki went silent almost immediately. “I want the truth. Did you do it?”

Cyamour noticed that the female seemed on the verge of blurting something out, probably something rude and insulting, but the man clamped a hand over her mouth, preventing her from making a sound.

There was a short silence. Then Ryuuzaki started to chuckle.

“You mean, did I steal the Hallowed Staff, the most precious weapon that has been handed down from generation to generation ever since the Hino sect was founded? Did I injure the three other people who were supposed to be guarding the staff together with me, and run off with it into the night? Did I plant red herrings for our spies to chase while I hid out here disguised as a common shopkeeper? Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Akatsuki flinched at his words. His voice was hoarse, shaking, when he finally spoke.

“And you did this knowing full well that without the Hallowed Staff, our clan will not be able to maintain first place in the staff rankings, which we have done ever since we started participating in the Grand Tournaments? Knowing full well that the reputation of our sect will be ruined because we allowed our greatest treasure to be stolen, and worse, by the strongest, most promising student in our generation?”

Cyamour listened quietly, soaking in all the information with increasing dread.

“Exactly,” Ryuuzaki said happily. “Why else would I want to steal it?”

For an instant, Akatsuki looked as if he wanted to rip Ryuuzaki apart with his bare hands. He probably would have, too, Cyamour realized, if Ryuuzaki wasn’t using him as a hostage. He grimaced, feeling a growing coldness in his heart that nothing to do with the claw of ice at his neck.

He was useless, no, worse than useless. Ryuuzaki was going to escape, and it would be his fault. His fault, because if he hadn’t been tricked so easily, if he hadn’t been so weak, Akatsuki and the other fighters would at least have had a chance to take him down.

He was distracted from the depressing turn his thoughts had taken by a thud as Akatsuki slumped back against the wall. His head fell forward into one hand, the other arm supporting his weight against the wooden panels. His fingers spread out so they covered one side of his face, hiding an eye, as if he was trying to protect it from some terrible sight. Unexpectedly, what Cyamour could see of his mouth curled up into a smile. He was breathing heavily, taking in sharp gasps of air, and very soon, Cyamour realized that the boy was actually snickering.

“Heh... heheh.... so it’s true.... it’s true....”

He flinched as Akatsuki's hand swung down in a fist to slam into the wall, his head flying backwards. The snickers grew, increased in volume until they turned into full blown gasps of laughter. Cyamour thought they sounded more like sobs. Despite his horror, or perhaps precisely because of it, he continued to stare at the boy, unable to close his eyes or turn away, until finally, the sobbing laughter subsided. Akatsuki’s eyes, fixed firmly on Ryuuzaki’s face, were now brimming with an emotion so terrible Cyamour didn’t have a name for it. Desperation was too mild a word. Hatred didn’t convey the darkness of it. Rage didn’t even come close to the maelstrom of fire and blood and ashes that screamed silently within the confines of his eyes. His lips parted, tongue flicking out to lick at the dryness of the pink-tinged flesh, pressed back together in a thin line, before opening again, moving slightly as if trying to call out a name, a tender, secret name, so old it had been almost forgotten, so old his mouth couldn’t even shape the syllables – for a moment, the tension between the two boys sharpened, became almost a physical presence, like a long, translucent thread connecting them, shimmering, trembling - and then Akatsuki’s lips twisted into a bitter smile, and the thread shattered into a thousand shards of glass.

“You know,” he said softly, so softly Cyamour almost couldn’t hear him. “When they told me you had stolen the Hallowed Staff and run away with it, I didn’t believe them. I thought, Ryuuzaki may be a sadistic, evil, perverted bastard, but he loves the Hino clan as much as the rest of us. He would never betray us. I sincerely thought that. I thought there had to be some mistake.... So I came out here searching for you, I had to see you with my own eyes, I had to hear it from your own mouth...”

“So now you’ve heard it,” Ryuuzaki’s words sliced through the air, a cold, sharp sliver of moon. “Happy?”

Akatsuki flinched, like someone had just rammed a blade right through his chest.

“...What are you doing?” he whispered. “Just what the hell are you doing? Why are you acting like this?”

His words grew louder and louder with each sentence until eventually he was shouting at the top of his voice.

“You, the strongest disciple in our clan, hiding like a rat in this hole of a building! Worse, holding a mere child hostage! To think I once... I once respected you above everyone else, even our master... Have you lost all sense of honour, all sense of dignity? Ryuuzaki, answer me!”

His voice broke and for a second Cyamour thought he was about to cry.

“Tell me why, please, you must have a reason for all this, you were always the strongest, the smartest of us all, please, tell me why you are doing this!”

Ryuuzaki’s hands were now completely still.

Akatsuki was breathing heavily through slightly parted lips, his cheeks tinged red with emotion, the storm in his eyes dying down to nothing more, and nothing less, than pure, unadulterated pain.

“Tell me... please...”

And his words faded away into silence.

“...Akatsuki...” Ryuuzaki murmured. His voice was soft, for some reason reminding Cyamour of the gentle, caressing tone used between lovers. “...you would never understand.”

The freezing claw at his neck was abruptly removed and Cyamour gasped as a palm slammed into his back. It didn’t hurt much though, strangely enough, as if there was a layer of air cushioning the blow or something. It was followed by a loud grinding sound, and gasps from the two masked people at the front of the shop. But Cyamour didn’t really notice those things because the force of the blow had sent his paralyzed body shooting forward at an impossibly high speed straight towards Akatsuki, who looked at first shocked, and then enraged. For a second Cyamour thought that he was going to dodge to the side and go after Ryuuzaki, and braced himself for the inevitable crash into the wall – at such speed, he would be lucky to get away without breaking any bones. Unexpectedly, Akatsuki stepped forward, instead of to the side, reaching out for him. One arm wrapped around his back, the other grasped his waist, and then the world started spinning around him, the two of them turning and turning in the mockery of a dance – to divert the momentum of the throw, he realized – before he was set down gently on his feet. He would have tried to steady himself if he hadn’t been paralyzed. As it was, he simply swayed and fell forward. He felt himself pressing up against the other boy’s body, warm and strong...

All this happened in mere seconds, and before he could stammer out a mixture of apologies and thanks, Akatsuki had already set him down on the floor against the wall and turned around to attack Ryuuzaki.

But Ryuuzaki was gone.

Cyamour blinked, not sure if he was seeing things. He’d been standing there just a few moments ago, how could he have escaped so quickly? The masked man was standing in Ryuuzaki’s place, his brows furrowed as he poked and prodded at a certain panel in the wall behind him. The woman was jumping in a slanted arc over the counter, her palm pressed on its hard surface as leverage. She landed with a soft thud, her eyes flashing, and immediately started attacking the floor with one of the judge brushes. Only then did Cyamour see the faint outline of a rectangle on the stone floor. Was it a trapdoor? She had sunk the tip of a judge brush into one of the cracks, trying to pry it open.

“I’m so sorry, Akatsuki-senpai!” the masked man cried frantically. “He was too fast, he pressed something – and then the floor slid away before him – I tried to attack him, I really did, but he just dodged and dropped down into the tunnel... and... and it just closed after him! It won’t open again no matter what I do!”

“...a secret passageway,” Akatsuki whispered. “I should have known.”

“I can’t pry it up!” the woman growled. “It’s like it’s moulded to the floor.”

“Get out of the way,” Akatsuki said. His voice was cold, without inflection.

The two masked fighters backed away obediently. Akatsuki stood over the closed passageway, and Cyamour thought he could hear him drawing in a deep breath.

Then he flung out both his palms and slammed them into the floor with the force and sound of a small explosion. A shockwave spread through the entire shop – bowls and cups fell and smashed to pieces – and Cyamour shuddered at the display of raw power. How long, how hard had Akatsuki trained to cultivate so much internal energy? The boy didn’t look that much older than himself.

But still the sealed entrance remained closed. It hadn’t cracked, not even a little. Cyamour wondered how Ryuuzaki had managed to reinforce it so that even such a powerful attack couldn’t break it. Akatsuki smashed his fist into the floor again, this time out of sheer frustration, it seemed to Cyamour, as there was no internal energy powering the blow. Then he stood up and addressed the two masked people.

“We’ll need outside help for this,” Akatsuki said. His tone had become brisk, almost business-like. “Martial brother Lin. Your qing gong is the best out of the three of us.”

The masked man stood up a bit straighter, and what little Cyamour could see of his skin was flushed pink with pride at the praise.

“Go back to the branch headquarters as fast as possible and inform them that we found Ryuuzaki but he managed to escape. Ask them to get someone who can help open the secret passage. Instruct martial sister Chu to deploy all her scouts. They’ll know how to handle the rest of it. Understood?”

Lin nodded and was out of the shop in a flash.

“Martial sister Zhen. Take to the rooftops and wait for the other scouts to come. It’s possible that he might emerge somewhere nearby. If you do see him, do not attack. Just track him and try to contact our scouts if you can. I’ll be here if you need me. I need to search this place first.”

“Why?” Zhen asked. “Why don’t you just go with me? It’s not like there’s anything here in this shop that – ”

Akatsuki cut her off impatiently.

“Information. Even though it’s highly improbable, he might have left behind clues on where he might be heading, how to open the passage, where he’s hidden the Hallowed Staff, and so on. Now go!”

The woman looked as if she wanted to say more – but Akatsuki had already turned away from her and started walking towards Cyamour. She still spoke up nonetheless.

“Senpai...” she said hesitantly. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”

“I’m fine. I managed to block his kick at the last second, so it isn’t that bad,” Akatsuki said as he knelt down before Cyamour, his fingers pressed to his flesh. It felt like something warm and thick was flowing into him – Akatsuki’s internal energy, he realized with a jolt – breaking through the acupressure points Ryuuzaki had sealed, and Cyamour gasped as the feeling came back to his limbs again. He tried moving his fingers – they worked perfectly, if still a bit stiff. He looked up at Akatsuki, a shy smile on his face, and was about to thank him when the woman cut in again.

“I didn’t mean that, not physical injuries, I meant...” She paused. “I meant...”

The woman trailed off, seemingly unable to finish her sentence. Akatsuki’s features had become hard and impassive as she spoke.

“Why are you still here wasting time, martial sister?” he asked coldly, even as he took up Cyamour’s wrist to check the pulse there. “Ryuuzaki’s slipping away as we speak. And don’t think I’ve forgotten how you attacked an innocent bystander –”

He’s talking about me, Cyamour thought as the woman flinched.

“I was just planning to paralyze him...”

“Enough!” Akatsuki’s voice was as heavy as the blade of a guillotine slamming into stone. “Get to work. We can talk about it later when all this is over.”

The woman’s eyes glittered above her mask, from what emotion Cyamour couldn’t tell. Finally she gave a sharp nod and moved to leave the shop, sliding her judge brushes back into her long black sleeves. There were probably sheaths or straps of some sort to hold them there, Cyamour thought absently. At the last moment, as she stepped out of the door, she looked back at Akatsuki, just for a second. And then she was gone.

Akatsuki sighed, the hardness in his face dissolving into weariness.

“No internal injuries... that’s good, at least...” he murmured, half to himself, as he set Cyamour’s wrist down. His hand moved to Cyamour’s chin, tilted it so that he could see his neck more clearly. “You don’t feel unnaturally cold, do you?”

Cyamour shook his head. On the contrary, he felt a bit warmer than usual – from all the adrenaline, probably. So warm, in fact, Akatsuki’s fingers felt cool where he was touching him. Then the other boy let go of him – for some reason, this made his chest tighten with – was it regret? ...he didn’t know.

“Turn around.”

He blinked at the sudden command, not comprehending.

Turn around? Why?

Nevertheless, he obediently got onto his knees and turned around to face the wall, wincing at the tingling, prickling sensations that started sparking through his limbs as he did so. Having your acupressure points sealed was definitely not a pleasant experience. The discomfort faded fairly quickly though, faster than he’d anticipated it would, and he couldn’t help wondering whether if that was because Ryuuzaki had gone easy on him and used only very little internal energy while sealing his pressure points or if Akatsuki’s seal-breaking skills were far better than the average martial arts practitioner... or both...

“Take off your shirt.”

“Wh- what?” Cyamour stuttered, craning his head backwards to look at Akatsuki, a rose blossoming across his pale cheeks. “T- take off my –”

“...is there a problem?” Akatsuki seemed somewhat confused at his reaction. “I need to see your back where Ryu –” There was the barest pause before he continued. “ – where he hit you. You seem fine to me, but I need to make sure...”

“O- oh...! Right...” Cyamour’s voice had gone slightly squeaky from embarrassment. What on earth were you thinking? he scolded himself internally, as he dug his fingers under the fabric of his black shirt and pulled it upwards, the air cool on his exposed skin. The blush on his face grew even more pronounced as he felt Akatsuki’s eyes on his naked back, and he quickly turned his face back towards the wall to hide it.

“As I thought... it doesn’t hurt at all, does it?” Akatsuki asked softly.

Cyamour shook his head. And then gave a little gasp as the other boy’s fingers pressed into his flesh where Ryuuzaki had hit him.

“Not even when I do this?” The pressure on his back increased just a little, not enough to make him uncomfortable... at least not in the painful sense. He did feel slightly strange, though exactly why, he couldn’t tell. His heart had picked up its pace again, beating faster than normal against his chest.

“No...” he murmured. If he hadn’t been so distracted, he might have started wondering about how strange it was that Ryuuzaki hadn’t hurt him at all. But as it was, all he could focus on was Akatsuki’s touch. He let out a little sound of disappointment under his breath as the fingers withdrew, a sound that almost seemed like a cross between a purr and a moan, coming as a surprise even to himself.

“Are you all right?” Akatsuki asked, sounding just the slightest bit worried.

“...yeah... I’m fine...” Cyamour said, as he hurriedly pulled his shirt back down again and sunk back down into the position he had been in previously. He stared at the floor, not daring to look back up at the other boy.

There was a few seconds of silence.

“Well, it seems that you’re in perfect health,” Akatsuki finally said. “He – didn’t seem to have harmed you in any way...” And then, much softer, in a whisper to himself. “...maybe he... still has a sense of honour... after all........”

And then, almost inaudible, a slow, shaky exhalation of breath that shivered with the barest hint of the word “...Ryuu...”

But Cyamour managed to hear him, just barely. Even though he couldn’t make out all the words clearly... that didn’t matter. The tone of sorrow in his voice was perfectly clear. He lifted his head, wanting to see Akatsuki’s expression, but the other boy had risen to his feet and half-turned away from him, so that all he could see of his face was a shadowy profile. Sunlight filtered in through the papered windows and the cracks in the wood; broken streams of golden dust drifted through the air, spilling onto his shoulder, his back, the inclination of his neck, his head tilted slightly as if he was trying to listen to a distant melody that wasn’t really there, that had never been there all along…

Cyamour suddenly felt like he was an intruder, just by being there when Akatsuki was at his most exposed, most vulnerable, and yet… what was this…? This ache in his chest… this inexplicable draw to the boy, standing there as silent and fragile as a shard of ice on the verge of cracking… Grief was radiating from him, almost palpable in its intensity, growing, swelling, until Cyamour couldn’t bear it anymore, he had to do something, anything, just to stop it -

But when Akatsuki spoke again, his voice was calm.

“All right. Feel free to rest here as long as you like... though others will be arriving here soon to investigate, so you might want to leave before then –”

“No!”

Akatsuki paused, turned back to look at him, eyebrows arched slightly in surprise. Cyamour blushed, half out of mortification, half out of confusion. What had induced him to shout like that?

“I… I mean…” he started to say, stumbling over his words. “I want to help you.” Yes, anything, anything to stop that terrible sorrow… even just to alleviate it a little… “I can help you.” His voice grew stronger. “Two people searching will be faster than just one, right?”

Their eyes met, slicing across the pale golden light that shimmered between them. It seemed that, for the first time, Akatsuki was seeing him as a person – an individual – not just a nameless, faceless bystander.

“What’s your name?”

“Cy… Cyamour.” He was stuttering again. Damn it. And he realized that the shape of Akatsuki’s lips suggested a smile.

“Thank you, Cyamour. I really appreciate it,” he said sincerely. “I really do.”

Cyamour realized with a jolt of giddiness that Akatsuki was calling him by his name, he was talking to him like they were equals, as if the difference in power between them didn’t exist… For the first time since he had started his travels, Cyamour felt acknowledged, accepted…

For the first time it felt like he was someone who mattered.

“But this is our problem, not yours. It’s our responsibility as members of the Hinoryuu to take care of our own internal affairs – ”

A sudden, acute coldness spread through his chest, tingling, freezing the heat that had started to shimmer so strongly in him.

We don’t need you. That was what he was saying, right? You’d just get in our way. We don’t need you. I don’t need you.

“We’ve already caused you enough trouble as it is – ”

No, you’ve got it all wrong, Cyamour wanted to say, but the sentence choked and died in his throat, his breath hitching as he started at the other boy. Akatsuki’s small smile had faded, as if it had never been there, and the tension was back in his face again, creasing his brows, drawing the light from his eyes…

“I’m really, really sorry that we couldn’t stop Ryuuzaki from capturing you…”

Why was he apologizing? Why did he look so guilty? His gaze had turned inwards again, his eyes dark and heavy with self-loathing… but why…

“Why…?” Cyamour muttered. “Why are you saying sorry to me? It’s me… I should be the one apologizing! You don’t know what happened before you got here… I… I defended him, I stopped them from attacking him… ” The words were bursting out of his mouth, getting louder, faster, until the syllables came out tumbling one after the other like the peals of metal spheres rolling and ringing out against one another down a steep slope. “It was my fault, it was my fault he got the chance to escape, if I hadn’t been so stupid, so stubborn, if I hadn’t believed in him, if I hadn’t insisted on staying and fighting for him, if I hadn’t been here – ” His entire frame was shaking with emotion, his thin chest working laboriously to force the air out of his lungs. “If I had believed the two of them when they told me he wasn’t what he seemed, if I had just stepped aside and left, he wouldn’t have been able to use me as a hostage and maybe – maybe – you might have had a chance to get him, or – or to delay him until reinforcements came or something – if I hadn’t gotten in the way, if I hadn’t been so – stupid – you might have – you might have – ”

He trailed off with a small, choking sound that resembled a sob, quite unable to continue. Drawing his thighs up against his chest, he folded up across the top of his knees, hugging himself, burying his face in the little pocket of darkness formed by the crook of his arms; he couldn’t face him anymore, he just couldn’t, all he could think of was Akatsuki’s face as he looked at Ryuuzaki like he wanted to kill him and kill himself and destroy the whole world at the same time, and the only thing holding him back was Cyamour, him, it was him, he was making that terrible pain so much more worse, but Akatsuki was coming towards him again, kneeling before him, grasping his shoulders, calling his name –

“I’m sorry,” Cyamour mumbled into his arms. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

It was my fault… you were hurting so much… it was my fault that you…

“It wasn’t your fault,” Akatsuki murmured.

There was a thin, stretched silence. Cyamour shook his head, just a little, so that it was almost imperceptible.

He heard Akatsuki sigh.

“Cyamour, look at me.”

No…

“Look at me.” More insistent, forceful, the tone of command that he’d used for the other two. Strength. In spite of all the pain he was going through, that strength…

Cyamour shuddered and looked up at Akatsuki again through a thin glimmering layer of moisture. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes. Slowly, the world came back into focus… and he was looking straight into Akatsuki’s eyes again, eyes that were gleaming with some unidentifiable emotion.

“It wasn’t your fault he got away, Cyamour.” Even though he wasn’t being particularly loud, his voice was so powerful – almost like the words were being carved into stone by the conviction in his tone – Cyamour couldn’t help wavering, almost convinced that what Akatsuki was saying was the truth. He wanted to believe that it was the truth, even though his mind was telling him otherwise.

“…really?” he asked in a very small voice. Hope flickered through him as Akatsuki gave a firm nod.

“If it was anyone’s fault, it was ours.” Cyamour started to protest at that statement but Akatsuki cut him off immediately. “No, listen. It was mere coincidence that you happened to be here when we arrived. You knew nothing about Ryuuzaki, nothing about the entire affair. You did what you thought was the right thing. Protecting an innocent person. No one can blame you for that. No one should blame you for that. Including yourself. Don’t you see? It was our fault. We know him. We know how he operates, the tactics he uses, we know the extent of his strength… we should have been able to stop him. It was our responsibility, our duty to stop him.”

Akatsuki’s eyes had grown dark and distant again, staring through him into some far off space that he couldn’t see.

“But we failed. We weren’t able to protect you from him. We failed to defeat him. I – ” His voice broke, faltered. “I failed to defeat him. I wasn’t strong enough to defeat him…” And Cyamour was painfully aware that the strength that Akatsuki showed was only a façade, a façade that was cracking and crumbling away even as he watched. “If I was stronger…” A loud sucking in of breath, apparently trying to stop himself from breaking down again. Cyamour could feel his hands trembling. “If only I –” Akatsuki stopped abruptly, his eyes widening as if he’d just realized that very moment what he was doing. Cyamour couldn’t stop looking at his eyes; the way his eyelashes lifted slightly before falling with an inaudible sigh to squeeze against the top of his cheeks, then rising again, melting almost, to reveal – was that the glimmer of tears? Cyamour couldn’t be sure; Akatsuki had let go of him, torn himself away with the quiet desperation of someone who is trapped and is trying to escape but doesn’t quite know how.

“I… think I should start searching now.” He sounded almost mechanical; each word low and toneless.

He was trying to fall back into that emotionless mask again, Cyamour realized, his throat constricting. He reached out, tried to catch hold of him, but Akatsuki had already turned, striding away from him. His hand hovered there for a few seconds, his fingers cutting luminous swathes of white across the image of Akatsuki’s receding back, before falling like corpses of leaves to rest on his lap.

Slowly, he got to his feet, leaning on the wall at first for support as the blood drained from his head.

No… wait… don’t go, please, not while you’re like this…!

As if he had heard his thoughts, Akatsuki stopped in mid-stride and just stood there, his back unnaturally straight, his arms stiff at his side. His shoulders were shaking, just a little. And even though he couldn’t see his face, Cyamour knew without a doubt that Akatsuki was, finally, crying.

“So… now you know… that you shouldn’t blame yourself for anything… I…” Deep, shaky breath. “I’m the one who…”

No words this time. Cyamour took one step forward. And then another. Faster and faster until finally when he reached out, his fingertips touched the pale grey fabric of Akatsuki’s shirt, and then he was hugging him, his arms wrapped tightly around Akatsuki’s waist, his cheek pressed up against his back. Akatsuki let out a little gasp, stiffening up at the unexpected contact. Cyamour could feel the other boy’s breathing speed up. Cyamour’s heart was pounding furiously, he almost couldn’t believe he was doing this, to a complete stranger, and yet he couldn’t help it, he wanted to comfort the grieving man, and this was the best way he knew…

“You did your best…” he murmured. “It wasn’t your fault… or anyone’s else… you did the best you could to stop him… it wasn’t your fault…”

It was like they were in a little bubble in time, a little bubble of stillness and silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Cyamour’s eyes had fallen closed; he wanted to remember how it felt to have his arms around this person, how this back felt underneath his skin, the warmth of him and the strength and the silent sobbing –

And then the bubble broke. Akatsuki’s hands were on his, parting them so he could turn back, and before he knew what was happening Cyamour was being enfolded in his arms again, but this time the embrace was full of tenderness and the quiet intensity he’d come in this short time to associate with the other boy, and he still couldn’t see his face which was sort of annoying but it was all right because Akatsuki’s cheek was close to his and he was surrounded by his warmth and he could feel Akatsuki’s breath tickling his ear as he whispered, thank you…

Cyamour realized that the other boy wasn’t shaking anymore; his breathing had evened out. Smiling, Cyamour gave him one last tight squeeze before the two of them let go of each other, and Cyamour shifted backwards so he could see the other boy better. Akatsuki’s cheeks were tinged with blush, his eyes red and slightly swollen, but there was, again, the barest hint of a smile on his face.

Cyamour reached out again and wiped away the moisture that was glistening around his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re not in this alone.”

“I know,” Akatsuki murmured. “My entire clan…”

“Yes…” Cyamour knew his fingers were lingering on Akatsuki’s face longer than was necessary. But he didn’t care. “…and me too. I can help you. Let me help you. Let me come with you. No – ” He rushed on before Akatsuki could interrupt. “Don’t tell me that I’m not involved in this, that I’m just a bystander, because he captured me, he used me as a hostage, and even though the Flying Crescent Sect is just a minor sect, we have our honour too. It would be disgracing to my clan if I didn’t at least help you guys capture him. Plus, I know about the Hallowed Staff already, so wouldn’t it make sense to include me in the team as well? I can fight. I can do stealth. I could be a runner or pass on messages. I’ll do anything you want me to – just let me help you, please.”

And why exactly he was saying this, Cyamour wasn’t sure himself – the issue of honour was true, but there was more than that to it. But what that was, he didn’t know. He just knew that he couldn’t just walk out of the place and leave it all behind him. Maybe he needed closure. Maybe he wanted revenge on Ryuuzaki for tricking him like that. Or maybe it was just that he didn’t want to leave Akatsuki alone, Akatsuki who was in such pain, Akatsuki who cared way too much about Ryuuzaki, Akatsuki who was staring at him right now, his face troubled and uneasy.

“Come with us to help? But – we don’t know where he’s escaped to… he might be anywhere at this moment… Don’t you have your journey to complete? And you have to meet with the rest of your clan at…”

“It’s all right,” Cyamour interjected. “My master didn’t give me specific destinations except for the tournament, and if I’m right, we’ll probably end up at the Grand Tournament anyway. Right?”

“……yes… one way or another…” Akatsuki said grimly. Cyamour knew what he meant. No matter whether they got back the Hallowed Staff or not, the clan could not afford to not attend the tournament, even without it. As a senior disciple Akatsuki would definitely have to be one of the representatives.

“Don’t worry,” Cyamour smiled and gave his shoulder a pat, trying to reassure him. “We’ll get him in the end.” Probably. “Especially since you have me on your side now!” he added brightly. But Akatsuki was still frowning – and Cyamour felt his heart grow a little colder inside his chest. His eyes slid away from Akatsuki’s face to stare at the floor. It was made out of dusty areas and somewhat less dusty areas where people had left their footprints.

“Unless you think I… I’m not good enough to help…” His voice had become small and weak again and he hated it. Hated himself. Of course… he was too weak, that was why. Why had he assumed that someone as strong as Akatsuki would even want him along… Akatsuki was a nice person who treated everyone kindly and respectfully regardless of their power or status but even he would draw the line at having a newbie like him actually help out in a pivotal mission concerning the honour of his whole clan. “I understand completely, it was stupid of me to even offer, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking – ”

“No, Cyamour.” Akatsuki’s voice pierced right through the veil of self-loathing he was shrouding himself in. He started, looked up back at the other boy. Akatsuki looked almost stricken. “Believe me, Cyamour, I never thought that you weren’t good enough. I’m sorry if I led you to think that…”

Cyamour was speechless. The weight in his chest had lifted immediately at those words; it was replaced by a rush of an emotion that could be nothing less than happiness. The corners of his mouth started to twitch upwards.

“…because you’re right. We need all the help we can get if we want to find him.”

Cyamour’s smile just got bigger and brighter. Finally, a fellow martial artist who didn’t look down on him, someone who took him seriously, someone who actually wanted him…

Seeing Cyamour so obviously happy must have had an effect on Akatsuki. Something in the other boy’s expression changed, seemed to open up, and Cyamour felt something tremble inside him as he realized that Akatsuki was smiling at him, truly smiling, even if it was only a little smile, a slight lift about his face, slightly more warmth in his gaze…

It was a beautiful smile, Cyamour thought. He wanted to see more of it. Maybe, if from now on he worked really hard and helped Akatsuki a lot, maybe he would…? But he could think of that later; for now he wanted to focus on Akatsuki, on his smile, on the hand Akatsuki was holding out towards him.

“Cyamour, will you help us in our quest to retrieve the Hallowed Staff?” Akatsuki asked, the light smile making him seem all at once innocent and carefree. Yes, Cyamour thought, he would definitely work hard to keep that smile on his face.

So he grinned, his golden eyes sparkling, and clasped Akatsuki’s hand in his.

“Of course.”

(12197)