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Assistant: Title: My Old Heart
        Author: athena_crikey athena_crikey 
        Chapter: 1/1 
        Summary: It’s cold, but the cold feels good, clean and sharp against his skin. Something cleansing, sloughing away softness and feebleness. It twists around his throat, brushes over his chest, curls chilly against his ankles. This is the night that he slunk out into, Furuya Rei, the darkness that welcomed him years ago when he had only one face. If there’s anywhere he belongs it’s here, somewhere silent and cellar-dark, somewhere cold as buried bone.Somewhere he can’t feel his heart beating.
        Contents: Summary:
            
              It’s cold, but the cold feels good, clean and sharp against his skin. Something cleansing, sloughing away softness and feebleness. It twists around his throat, brushes over his chest, curls chilly against his ankles. This is the night that he slunk out into, Furuya Rei, the darkness that welcomed him years ago when he had only one face. If there’s anywhere he belongs it’s here, somewhere silent and cellar-dark, somewhere cold as buried bone.Somewhere he can’t feel his heart beating.
            
        

        
  Notes:

    

        
          Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: 我的本心-My Old Heart by Chengtang
        


    

    
      Warnings for a real ambivalence to live that spills over into indirect suicidality. Implied trauma, explicit survivor's guilt.Hello, my old heartIt's been so longSince I've given you awayAnd every day, I add another stoneTo the walls I built around youTo keep you safе- Hello My Old Heart, the Oh Hellos
    

    
        (See the end of the work for more notes.)
    



  





    
        
          The strange thing isn’t that the Syndicate falls.It’s that Rei survives to see it.***The last three months are ruinous. He can feel Rum’s eyes on the back of his neck, feel the old man’s calloused hands around his throat, slowly twisting tighter. Gin’s reek is everywhere, a smell of cigarettes and gasoline; he seems to smell it every time he opens a door, a lingering smog, haunting him. Vermouth texts him at all hours of the day or night, tiny choking reminders that his leash is getting shorter and shorter.But, so is the Syndicate’s. International law enforcement agencies are finally drawing together, ready to act. CIA, FBI, MI5. The NPA and PSB are coordinating it all, Rei with no time to sleep, and certainly no time to dream. That doesn’t keep Akai Shuuichi out of his bed.His relationship with the FBI dog feels like surrender. Akai’s been chasing him for years, just as Rei has been pursuing him – but for different reasons entirely. They circled each other like a pair of dragons on an old scroll, fangs and claws out, but in the end it was Akai who caught him first. Rei isn’t proud of it. But he has nothing left for himself. Every last drop of his being is already expended – on living as Bourbon, on living as Amuro Tooru, and on slipping silently in the shadows beneath them as Furuya Rei. Ending the Syndicate is all that matters. That’s what his life is for – it’s what Hiromitsu died for. It is everything. There’s nothing else, and it turns out that when Akai Shuuichi comes knocking he simply doesn’t have the strength to turn him away. Akai’s hands on him, the heat of his breath, the wetness of his mouth, they’re nothing but the faint flutterings of something intransient, unimportant. A ghost in his bed.Rei has to focus on what matters. The mission. The imperative he has lived for for years, alone and afraid.Miyano Elena and her husband, whose death left him with only one friend.Morofushi Hiromitsu, whose death left him with none.All he has to do is make it to the end. The days are getting shorter. Rei works longer, and longer. He forgets about cooking. He forgets about coffee. He forgets about Kazami, sending short messages to his burner phone: Please take care. Remember to eat. I’m buying you vitamins.Akai shows up unasked and unannounced to plague him, wearing a graduate student’s face and bringing incredibly basic one-pot dishes. Despite Rei’s best intentions, the only times he seems to sleep is weighed down by the sniper’s body, s@x-drunk and heavy. He washes the bedding afterwards, but Akai’s scent lingers. Winter frost and whisky, clean and strong.“Let me help,” says Akai, the words falling into the silence of Rei’s inattention at the time. He remembers them later, like pale memories of something long past, the intensity bleached out of them.Rei shakes his head, and keeps going.One week.Four days.Two.One.It’s supposed to end with a gunshot. Gin’s gun to his temple. The cross-agency team has orders not to negotiate, not to prioritize hostages. Rei wrote them himself; he knows. Gin will shoot him, and they’ll shoot him.Simple, clean.Over.But that’s not what happens. What happens, against all reason and order, is Akai Shuuichi. The FBI dog walks out, pistol in hand, his naked face pale in the moonlight beneath a SAT helmet. Rei feels Gin shudder as he recognizes him, feels the gunmetal slip against his temple like a bead of sweat, just a millimetre. His Luger is loaded with armor-piercing rounds.“Take the shot,” says Rei. “Do it. Do it.”Akai’s eyes – green as a spring forest, so rich with life – stare into his. Then, revealing nothing of his thoughts, they flash to Gin. “You know my name,” he says. His pistol is pointed at the floor, finger on the trigger.“Akai Shuuichi,” growls Gin, a low rumble in his throat. “Silver bullet.”Akai Shuuichi smiles, and lifts his hand.Gin shoots first. The gun barks, orange fire flaring. Three other rifles follow, simultaneous, the rapport deafening. Gin stiffens and falls, his hand dragging against Rei’s shoulder, his arm, his hip as he slumps. Blood pools out onto the floor. His Lugar falls beside him, clattering coldly.Across the room, Akai sinks, breathing hard, a hand to his chest.Rei takes a step back. He draws in a breath, another, another. His heart thrums in his throat, still beating. He feels: cold. Untethered. Cut loose, suddenly without any anchor. On the ground beside him Gin shudders and lies still.Kazami runs up to him, flipping back the face shield on his helmet. “Furuya-san! It’s over. Are you alright?”Rei looks back across the room; Akai is getting slowly to his feet, several Force members gathered around him. From between dark, Kevlar-clad shoulders, Akai is looking at him. Rei can’t read what’s in his eyes. He can’t read anything at all. Somewhere distant, there’s a roaring noise in his ears.“Fine,” he says, swallowing. “I’m fine.”***It’s… strange. After.Rei doesn’t die, doesn’t end the Syndicate with his sacrifice. But he feels more like a ghost than anything. No one in the street notices him; he passes by Poirot without going in, invisible, unseen. He submits written reports to the NPA but is put on post-mission leave, partially to recover and partially to keep him away from the office in the unlikely event any minor Syndicate members are looking for blood. He slips through an empty apartment that was bought for Amuro Tooru, filled with things belonging to a man who never existed.The Syndicate is done; the mission is over. Everything is over. The work of half a decade, the work that cost so many lives, is complete. It should be… momentous. Joyous. Success and victory and triumph.All Rei feels is empty. Hollow as a fired shell casing, rattling in the wind.***Akai texts him from the hospital. Irritated, demanding. The lines are sparse but the message is clear. Why hasn’t he come to visit? Where is his gift, his fruit, his appreciation? Is Rei planning on ignoring him?Rei stares down at the characters, black on white, and considers deleting it. Considers dumping his phone, breaking the SIM card and tossing it into the Sumida River. But it’s no skin off his nose to go. It doesn’t matter.Nothing does.He stops by a department store to pick up a melon, perfectly spherical, green at the top and smelling of summer sunshine and thick rind. It costs 10,000 yen; he pays without blinking.At the hospital, he finds Akai on the floor of his ward in a wheelchair. He’s in the typical blue patient garb, reminiscent of summer jinbei, and a pair of white slippers. It’s the most traditional thing Rei has ever seen him in, and it temporarily surprises him into silence. Akai looks up at him, long and ironic, but although his eyes flash to the department store bag his mouth is thin and dissatisfied.“I came,” says Rei. He drops the bag in Akai’s lap. “Here. Your gift.”Akai raises his eyebrows. “Such graciousness,” he murmurs. Rei sets his jaw and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat.“You were the one who demanded it.”Slowly, Akai stands, unfolding his long legs from the wheelchair. He’s steady on his feet; holding the bag by its strings, he leaves the wheelchair sitting alone and heads for his room. “Oi, are you supposed to be walking?”Akai ignores him to put the bag down just inside the door of his room. Coming out again, he catches Rei’s eye and heads down the hall to the elevator. Inside, he presses the button for the roof.“Sneaking out to smoke?” asks Rei, frowning. Akai doesn’t have any pockets in his hospital clothes; no cigarette or lighters.Akai doesn’t answer. The door pings and they step out into the small, cold elevator room. Outside is the roof, long and empty, surrounded by a metal railing. It’s cold, the chill of late November, but Akai in just a thin layer of cotton walks out to stand by the railings looking out over Tokyo. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks.Rei goes stiff. A swell of something catches in his throat – thick, choking. “Nothing,” he says, forcing his voice smooth. “Nothing’s wrong with me. You’re the one in the hospital.”Akai turns to look at him. His gaze is flat, cold. “You can lie to your handler, to your boss. Not to me.”Rei stares at him, then laughs. He means it to be cruel, a slap. But it goes on too long, something hungry and horrible inside of him trying to claw its way out. He only barely manages to push it back, trap it. “FBI, I’ve been lying to you since I met you. Everything we are – everything we had is a lie. Surely you knew that.”“I knew you didn’t want it,” he says, voice low, rough. “I also knew you needed it.”“The f@ck does that mean? It was – easy. That’s all.”“And since when have you wanted something because it was easy? You took it because it was the only thing holding you together. The only thing that wasn’t a lie, wasn’t a mask for you to plaster on and peel off. It may not have been something you wanted, but it was real. And now you’ve taken off all those masks, and what? What’s underneath?”Rei’s lips draw back, instinctive, venomous. “I didn’t come here to be psychoanalyzed, Akai,” he says, teeth snapping on the words.“You’re wrong. You’ve been wrong for months. I read the rules of engagement you wrote. No negotiation? No priority for hostages? That’s suicide, Furuya-kun. You wrote it to be.”Rei stares back at him, mouth half-open, ready to refute. Ready to fight, to hit back at Akai in the way that was so natural for so long.Nothing comes out. No anger, no vitriol. Just the raw, thin sound of his breath in his empty throat. It sounds the same here, on the empty roof, as it had in Gin’s lair. He knows he needs to deny it. He knows the words, but he can’t make himself say them. There’s nothing inside him to force them out with. He shakes his head; a low whine slips from his throat.Akai takes a step forward, cautious, his face softening. “Furuya…” He reaches out; Rei smacks his hands away.“You don’t understand. You don’t. You don’t.”“What don’t I understand?”Rei feels wild. The roar is back in his ears; he’s hot, so hot beneath the weight of his coat, sweat soaking beneath his arms and down his back. He feels sick, dizzy, and Akai’s just staring at him. Staring, careful and considerate, and he knows nothing.“It’s supposed to be over. It is over! It’s over – and nothing’s different! Years gone – years of hate and evil and torture. What’s changed? I’m the same, the same. Everywhere out there, on the streets, in the stores – no one knows or cares. So many dead, my friends, people I couldn’t save. Hiro is dead. Oh gods. He’s still – dead,” he chokes on a sob. All at once his legs tremble, knees threatening to give out.Akai steps forward and wraps his arms around him, catches him and helps him down. Rei hardly notices him as he sobs, as molten-hot streams of hatred, and horror, and guilt tear their way out of his throat. It flows out of him like liquid tar, horrible and burning, so much anguish he had never suspected.Akai just sits there on the cold cement tiles, holding him. He doesn’t know for how long he cries; it feels like a lifetime. It feels like an ocean is poured out, hot and soaking on his face, against Akai’s throat, his shirt.Eventually, it just ends. There’s nothing more; he’s really, truly hollow now, exhausted and empty. Akai searches his pockets until he finds a handkerchief and dries his face while Rei leans against his good shoulder, his burning eyes closed.Akai chivvies him to his feet, drawing him up and leading him back insider. “I want you to go home, Furuya-kun. Go home, and have a bath, and go to sleep. I’m going to come see you tomorrow.”Rei blinks up at him. “You’re in the hospital,” he says, slowly. He’s weighted down by lethargy, looped long and lazy around him.“Let me worry about that. Will you do as I say?”“Mm.”“Good. If you need to call me, you can.”The elevator dings at Akai’s floor. Akai doesn’t make a move, and Rei realises he needs to release him, that he’s still curled around the FBI agent. Slowly, carefully, he releases him. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” says Akai, stepping off.The doors close.***It’s not that Rei forgets the promise. But after he goes home, and has a long hot bath, and truly has the energy to do nothing other than crawl into his bed, sleep seems to wipe his memory. He sleeps for almost twelve hours, a slumber so deep it feels drugged, and wakes warm and languid in early winter daylight. He gets up, makes miso soup and rice for breakfast, and watches the news. He pointedly does not think about the events of yesterday, the hot furious mess pouring out of him like something disgusting, diseased.Akai shows up around 11. He’s wearing normal, everyday clothes – or what passes for them in his case: black jeans, a black turtleneck and a black leather bomber jacket.“Oh my god,” says Rei, staring at him. “Why are you here?”“I said I was coming,” replies Akai. “Pack a bag.”Rei frowns. “What?”“Pack a bag. I made reservations.” Akai steps in, forcing Rei to admit him to his own home. Or what is actually still Amuro Tooru’s home, the NPA slow to find him new accommodations.“Which one of us isn’t making sense?” asks Rei, as Akai sheds his coat and shoes.“You need some time away. Your subordinate should have found you a new apartment by the time we come back, so bring anything you don’t want the movers touching. I have three nights booked.”Rei crosses his arms. “Booked where?” He doesn’t move, refusing to allow Akai past the genkan.Akai pulls out his phone and swipes a few times. He turns it to show Rei a page; it’s a high-end ryokan in Hakone. The ryokan looks like it’s situated in the mountains, a little apart from the busy tourist town; the site advertises couples rates and private onsen in some of the rooms. He doesn’t scroll down far enough to see the price list, but he imagines three nights will cost a month’s salary, at least. “I’m not paying for this,” he says.It's not that he can’t. Amuro Tooru’s bills were paid by expense, while all the while Furuya Rei’s salary slowly accumulated, untouched. It’s the principle of the thing.“Naturally,” says Akai, putting away his phone. “I made the reservation. So?”Rei follows his hands, staring at his pocket for a moment before slowly looking back up. “Why?” he asks, voice tight. “I don’t need – watching. Or pity, or… coddling.”Akai steps forward, until they’re standing toe-to-toe, Akai the taller. “I know,” he says, his voice mellow, soothing. Rei opens his mouth to push back, and he leans in. Instead of going for a kiss, he raises his hand to cup Rei’s cheek, softly swiping his thumb over the press of the bone.His hand is warm, his palm soft and plush as sheepskin. It’s large, the press of it full against Rei’s face. It feels like comfort, like safety. Something without edges or complexity, freely given.He accepts it for just an instant longer than he should, hesitating before he lifts his head and pulls back.“You’re not alone,” says Akai, letting his hand fall away.A spark flares in his throat, hot and searing, and Rei swallows hastily. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, but he hears the hoarseness in his voice. “We’re all alone.”“I’m not being philosophical.” Akai tilts his head, looks down at him with an intensity that sends a shiver down Rei’s spine, his eyes shaded by his heavy lashes and his full mouth a lean gleam in the dim light of the entryway.“Oh?” manages Rei, the sound quiet.“Just practical,” says Akai. “You like that. Practicality. Pack a bag, Furuya-kun.” And, leaning forward, he puts his large hands on Rei’s hips and turns him like a puppet, like a subordinate under his command. Rei sucks in a breath; Akai leans forward and rests his chin on his shoulder. He can feel the heat of his ear beside his jaw. “Don’t make me carry you,” he breathes, his breath hot, moist.Low in Rei’s belly, a flicker of warmth licks upwards. He quashes it relentlessly. “As if you could, invalid.” He nudges back with his elbow, not hard, and hears Akai’s intake of breath.He walks into the apartment without looking back.But he does pack a bag. It’s not like he has anything better to do.***Rei drives. Akai offers to, but the slope of his shoulders speaks of pain, or at least stiffness, and anyway Rei doesn’t like being driven and especially not by showy Americans with over-powered muscle cars. They load their bags into the back of the RX-7 and head for the Expressway.“I am interested to know how you got in touch with Kazami,” says Rei, as they pull onto the toll road.“I had him call me,” says Akai, as though there were a public phone tree available for the NPA.“Simple as that?”“It is when the instruction is issued by Inoue-sousai,” replies Akai. Rei’s hands momentarily crush against the steering wheel, his eyes widening. His foot lifts off the gas as he turns to look at Akai.“You called the head of the NPA?” he says, not sure if he’s offended or incredulous.Akai, leaning back in the passenger seat with casual ease, shrugs. “No; I asked James to.”“Oh, well then,” says Rei. Alongside them, a skinny Mitsubishi delivery van pulls past. Rei sets his teeth and eases his foot down, catching up. “You truly are ungovernable.”Akai smiles. “I obey the law, Furuya-kun, but not necessarily the rules. Are you so different?”Rei shakes his head, but doesn’t answer.***They arrive in Hakone mid-afternoon. Akai pulls up a map and gives directions, despite Rei’s ungrateful demand that he simply turn on the GPS’s built-in guidance mode. The town is like most hotspring towns: long, narrow, curving roads lined with one and two-storey traditional shops full of candies, crafts, souvenirs and local foods. Despite the chill it’s a sunny day, and while most people out on the road are in coats and heavy pants, there are a few wearing plain yukata and haori marked with the logo of various ryokan. Open foot baths are pouring up pale puffs of steam beneath wide wood overhangs; little streams cut beneath short bridges.Rei navigates through the town and up into the mountains beyond, the pedestrians tapering off as they leave behind the maze of shops and public onsen. Here the lush greenery of the forests closes in around them, thick bamboo groves with whispering leaves rippling beneath the sunlight; tall beeches and oaks that are almost bare, their limbs reaching like fingers towards the sky.There’s a sign for the ryokan at the turn-off; Rei indicates and pulls in. Down a long drive he finds the traditional inn, its parking lot small and half-empty. Clearly it’s not a large establishment.They park and get out; Rei picks up his own bag and, watching the corner of Akai’s eyes crinkle when he reaches for his, the sniper’s as well. They trudge across the gravel lot to the entryway, marked with a white three-slit noren showing the ryokan’s insignia of a chestnut tree’s leaf. Akai lifts it for him as though it were something other than fine, weightless linen; Rei rolls his eyes at him.Inside a bellboy comes forward right away to help Rei with the bags, while Akai checks them in. The reception area is luxurious, pale pine floors and walls, wide windows, a wall covered in living moss and ferns that glisten wetly, their colour vibrant emerald. There’s a small water feature that runs alongside the window that looks out towards the parking lot, a bamboo pipe that pours water into channel filled with pebbles; it flows along clean and clear it like a river before draining in the corner.The check-in process is smooth; the bellboy hurries away with their bags while the manager in a pristine black suit leads them through the ryokan. They’re shown the two large public baths, with inner and outer sections, as well as the public dining room. The guest rooms are further along, down a narrow engawa which looks out onto a zen garden with delicately raked stones.Their room is large, with a full bathroom, 9-mat tatami room, and a private onsen open to a small walled-in garden with mossy stones, some small flame-red Momiji trees, and a heavy stone lantern. The onsen itself is also stone, a completely natural effect; the steam keeps the rocks darkly moist and rises lazily towards the overhanging ceiling.Rei revises his estimates; three nights is definitely costing more than a month’s salary.The manager asks if they would prefer to eat in the public dining room; Akai requests private service, which is hastily agreed to. Their bags are already there, delivered while they were touring the premises; the manager bows and sees himself out.There’s a large low table and zabuton, as well as a wide tokonoma with a flat screen TV. Rei takes a seat and glances at the pamphlets provided on the ryokan as well as local attractions. Akai sorts through his bag, as if he expected the bellhop to have been digging into it. He tucks it away into the closet, half-full with bedding and folded yukata, and slides the door shut behind him. In bare feet on the tatami, he crosses over to Rei and looks down at him.“What?” says Rei, eye twitching.“Do you want to try the onsen?”“We just got here,” says Rei.“Of course. You would rather read hotel brochures and the room service list,” says Akai, deadpan.Rei sighs. “Fine. Whatever. Public or private?” Even as he asks, he knows what the answer is going to be. Akai declines to speak, simply throws his gaze towards the outer door.Rei stands and slowly, a little reluctantly, begins stripping.He and Akai have been f@ck@ng for a few months now. But their relationship has been almost purely physical; they show up, they go to bed, they f@ck. Rinse. Repeat. Sometimes Akai stays the night, sprawled over Furuya like an over-heated bolster smelling of s@x and cigarettes. But that’s been the extent of it. There hasn’t been much tenderness, but even less has there been intimacy.Rei didn’t want intimacy. He didn’t, really, want Akai. He’s not sure now what he did want, other than a way to forget the weight on his shoulders. Now that the Syndicate is done, he has no need for the sniper.He has no real idea why he agreed to come on this trip, except out of the intense, all-encompassing embarrassment of having broken down like a child in front of the FBI agent. Maybe what he feels is shame – and a need to prove that he’s not unstable. That he doesn’t need a babysitter, that he definitely doesn’t need Akai Shuuichi.As he pulls his shirt over his head and tugs it off his arms, conscious of his hair feathering past his cheeks, he feels Akai’s glance on him. Sure enough the sniper is standing in the corner, socks off and belt hanging undone from his hands, watching him. His look is dark, smouldering. Rei can feel the heat of it, the way Akai’s gaze traces the bare lines of his chest, his throat, his biceps. He turns away and shakes out his shirt, folding it. “Pay attention to what you’re doing,” he says.He finishes disrobing facing the corner, carefully folding his clothes into a neat pile on the table. When he’s done he’s kneeling there on the tatami; he turns to look over his shoulder, toes and the b@lls of his feet pressed against the smooth weave, heels to his ass.Akai Shuuichi is standing naked by the door, his clothes heaped on the floor around him, like a tree with its leaves shaken off. There’s a white square bandage taped over his chest just under his right collarbone, the gauze thick. His torso is long and lean, the jut of his hips sharp, the deep iliac crest drawing Rei’s eye inexorable down to the coil of dark hair between his legs, to his soft c@ck.He swallows and looks away, pushing himself up. “What the hell’re you waiting for?” he says. Akai doesn’t answer, but pulls back the door. Rei waits for the sound of his bare feet on the stone before he rises and follows.There’s only one faucet and wash pail; he lets Akai go first, cleaning himself for the onsen. The air is chilled, and the heat of the water is barely tangible here, nothing more than the softest of sighs against his skin. Rei is hideously aware that, having let Akai go first, the sniper is now free to sit in the bath and watch him wash himself, slick water over his back, his head, wipe it across the long lean line of his arms and his stomach.He finishes quickly and crosses over, slipping into the onsen and submerging himself to the armpits. Akai, sitting tall against the back wall, water just above his abs, has carefully kept his injury dry.The water is perfect, hot and a little slippery; the source is probably famous for soft water. Here in the pool the steam is thicker, billowing up past Rei’s cheeks, caressing his temples. He takes a seat across from Akai and lets his eyes drift closed, enjoying the enveloping warmth and the sensation of weightlessness.Rei can’t remember the last time he did something simply to enjoy it.He doesn’t know how long he stays there, drifting, basking in being comfortable and pampered and safe, with no where else to be.Eventually he hears Akai stand, the water licking against his legs. “Don’t stay in too long; you’ll get a headache,” he says. His feet patter on the stone; the door slides open, then closed.Rei leans back and relaxes.***They watch TV, later. They’re getting to the end of this year’s Taiga drama. Rei hasn’t watched any of it – no time, obviously – and Akai admits to never in his life having watched a Taiga drama. In the face of that pathetic revelation Rei insists that they watch it, while Akai looks up some of the details. Apparently it’s about Murasaki Shikubu. Rei can only remember a couple of years where the lead character was a woman; he hopes they didn’t feel the need to invent unnecessary melodrama.Akai has put his colourless clothes back on; Rei’s wearing a yukata. It’s forest green with a pattern of arrow fletching in white; it’s been a long time since he wore yukata, and it’s strange to have the lightweight cotton wrapped around his legs, tucked against his calves. He’s not unaware of the glances Akai occasionally shoots him, tracing the deep v of the collar, the way the wide sleeves slip back up his arms when he reaches for a drink. There was beer in the small minifridge in the closet; Rei reminds himself to buy more at a conbini tomorrow, without the hospitality surcharge.As for Akai… well. Rei doesn’t mind him watching. He doesn’t mind him springing for the trip. Possibly, at some point, he won’t mind Akai helping him to unwind.That way, when they part in four days, they can do so on good terms.Permanently.***Dinner is served in their room, as requested. It’s kaiseki, small dishes arriving in relays served by a maid in a plain kimono. Fish; meat; tofu; vegetables, all beautifully presented. Rei orders shochu; Akai orders whisky.He can’t help but find it interesting, sampling the many intricate, ornate dishes and trying to imagine how they must have been prepared, marinated, cooked. He hypothesizes on the quality of the cuts, the sauces, the spices. He has no one to talk to about this other than Akai, so the FBI agent can suck it up and get a crash-course in gourmet cooking. It’s not as though it will harm him. Akai, if he finds it boring, doesn’t say so.At the end of the meal the maid clears away the dishes and empty cups and bottles, three dried blue ceramic tokkuri alongside Akai’s glass tumbler. Rei, pleasantly tipsy, lies back to take a nap.The dreams unfurl slowly. In the distance a train’s whistle blows, shrill and breathy. Rei, walking along the tracks, looks back to see if it’s coming. He has a ticket, and the station is still up ahead in the distance. He starts to walk faster.There are stones on the ground, rolling beneath his feet. Round pebbles, smooth and polished like billiard b@lls. It’s hard to move quickly, his ankles twisting, aching. The whistle sounds again, bright, urgent.He has to get to the station. He needs to, needs to make the train. Hiro’s on the train, waiting for him. It’s so hard for them to meet safely, so many eyes on them. Eyes in the forest all around him, staring from gnarled tree trunks, black as currents and shining.Rei starts jogging, then running. He has to get there. Has to. The train is coming – he can hear it screeching, now, the sound awful, urgent. Its whistle is a scream, the tearing sound of metal rending. There are voices all around him, shadows solidifying under the trees, figures in black. Trench coats, trilbys, gunmetal glinting.Rei trips, scrambles, catches himself. Beneath him something crunches. He looks down.He’s stepping on skulls. Mouldering skulls, white bone poking through rotted flesh. Empty eye sockets filled with inky darkness. Teeth flashing, ivory-coloured in the gloom. He tastes bile, his throat tight, his lungs burning. He picks up his feet and runs.The platform is up ahead, open, a raised cement walkway. The train is sitting there, steam rising. Doors open.Rei scrambles up the stone steps, gasping, and stumbles through the entrance.Inside the carriage, every seat is taken. The people in them are familiar, some in uniform, some in suits, blouses. They’re utterly silent.Every one of them is dead. Hiromitsu. Matsuda. Date. Hagiwara. Miyano Elena. Miyano Atsushi. Miyano Akemi. As one, they turn to stare at him with milky, glazed eyes. Their mouths fall open, jaws rotting, teeth tumbling out.Rei falls back, screaming, screaming –“Rei!”Rei jerks up, throat so tight he can’t breathe, can’t suck in air, his body hot and burning and desperate. He lashes out, gasping, air sucking in his windpipe.Someone rolls him over, onto his side and holds him there, rubbing his back. He coughs – once, twice, body spasming as he finally loosens up enough to draw in a breath. He hacks and gasps, legs curled up close, arms wrapped around his chest. The warm hand on his back rubs calm, slow circles there, a soothing rhythm. It’s only when his breathing begins to even out that he realises it’s Akai kneeling beside him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his back.Lungs aching, ribs sore, Rei draws his arms up beneath himself and pushes himself up. His yukata slips off one shoulder, wrenched loose, his air-dried hair falls into his eyes. He pushes it away harshly, grabbing the sleeve of his yukata.Akai’s hand on his naked shoulder stops him. His touch is heated, fingers tucked in beneath the raised curve of Rei’s collarbone, gentle points of pressure. “It was just a dream, Rei-kun,” he says in a low voice, his body close behind Rei’s.Rei knocks his hand away, shoves him with his elbow and jerks the yukata up, closed. “F@ck off, FBI,” he says, thickly.“Rei-kun…”Rei turns to glare at him, furious, burning like oil. He’s alight with so many things – horror, pain, despair – and Akai is just sitting there like everything is okay, like it’s all fine.Nothing is fine.“It’s not a dream,” he snarls. “It will never, ever be a dream. Every time I wake up, it will be exactly the same. I’ll be here, and they’ll be dead. They’ll all be dead. And you had a chance, you had the f@ck@ng chance to make it all right, and you didn’t. So don’t come here and talk to me about… about waking up. There’s nothing to wake up to.”Akai reaches out and catches his wrist. Holds it, while staring Rei in the eye. He reaches out with his other hand, and grabs Rei’s other wrist. Rei pulls, fights him; he tightens his grip. “Stop it, stop it,” hisses Rei, trying to pull free.Akai, teeth gritted, doesn’t let go. Rei fights harder, chest growing tighter, frantic; he pulls up onto his knees and tries to use the leverage of height as he yanks and shoves.Abruptly Akai gets up and jerks him over the smooth tatami, slamming him down. Pins him on his back, wrists over his head, straddling Rei’s waist. He’s breathing hard, face tight, pained. All his weight is pressing down on Rei, crushing his wrists to the floor. His short hair is falling forward, framing his face like a raven’s wings.“Don’t,” he says, his voice guttural. Rei watches his throat move, the bob of it, light and shadow playing over the pale skin.“Don’t what?” snarls Rei, staring up at him.“Don’t give in. To the darkness. To the loneliness. To all the ghosts who knock on your door, seeking entrance. They’ll have you one day; they can wait. Make them wait.”Rei’s breathing is slowing, the heat starting to bleed out of him. The floor is hard under his back; Akai’s heavy on his waist. He can see Akai’s jaw working, the bolt of it tight, knotted. But he doesn’t let up, doesn’t move, just sits there holding Rei back. Back from himself – back from the army of ghosts waiting to devour him.“You don’t get to decide what I do,” says Rei, but it feels like a weak protest in the face of Akai’s steely fervour.“Why shouldn’t I have a say in your life? I paid for it, didn’t I? You’re the only one I’ve bled for, Furuya Rei.” He’s still breathing hard, harder than Rei is, now. His shoulders are jerking, his chest rising and falling sharply beneath the drape of his dark shirt. Without warning he gives a soft sound, a whimper, maybe, wrung out of him. He lets go of Rei’s wrists and hunches to the side, left hand over his wounded shoulder.“Get off,” says Rei, sitting up and pushing at Akai. The sniper shuffles slowly off him, drawing his breaths in through his teeth, snarling silently like a mutt.Rei pushes his hair back from his face. He feels just a little drunk, wrists hot and aching. He puts his hands under Akai’s shirt and pushes it up, his hands flat against that smooth skin. He shoves it over Akai’s head and yanks it off his arms; sure enough, there’s a pale blossom of pink on the white gauze tapped over the bullet wound.“I hope for your sake you brought some supplies with you,” says Rei, his tone clipped.It turns out that, in fact, Akai did. Rei digs the plastic bag out of his luggage filled with gauze and tape, a bottle of antiseptic and some swabs. There’s also a bottle of painkillers. “Too bad you spent all afternoon drinking,” says Rei, withholding them dispassionately.They sit together, side by side, while Rei rips off the tape and the gauze from Akai’s wounded shoulder. The bullet hole itself is small, puckered, but the incision made to dig it out of his shoulder is larger and stitched together with black thread. It looks ugly, and painful. A little blood is seeping out, smeared wetly over the skin.Rei cleans it, washes away the blood and sanitizes the area while Akai sits silently glaring at the wall. He tapes a new piece of gauze over when he’s done, and taps one single finger atop the line of Akai’s smooth shoulder. Akai blinks, and looks up at him.“I’m not a thing you can buy,” Rei says. “The Syndicate thought they owned me, but I was poison in their veins. Don’t try to take up their mantle, FBI. I’m not generous enough to warn you twice.”“I don’t want to own you,” says Akai, slowly beginning to pack away the first aid supplies.“What, then?”“I want you to realise you’re not the only one with a stake in your life.” He drops in the antiseptic and seals the bag, putting it down on the floor.Rei snorts. “So I should put your opinion above my own, should I?”“So you should know there’s someone who has your interests at heart.”Outside, Rei hears the sound of someone in a kimono shuffling down the hall. He stands up, straightening the drape of his robe. “What you do with your own heart is your business,” he says. Without waiting for a response, he goes to let the maid in to put out the futons.***Rei is half-expecting Akai to try to crawl into his bed, to erase the shadow of the dream with his body, his hot mouth and long fingers. In fact though Akai goes to sleep first, reading on his phone while sitting on the futon, then lying down to read, and finally letting the phone slip from his fingers, eyes slipping closed and face falling to the side.Rei watches him sleep for a while. The slow rise and fall of his chest beneath the worn tee he changed into, the dark line of his lashes against his creamy cheek. The fall of his wavy hair, glossy strands sweeping past the peach-pink tip of his ear. Horrible as it is to admit, Akai is handsome. A sharp, lovely face; strong, sensitive hands; toned muscles that harden and sculpt his thin frame. The kind of man Rei could, perhaps, fall in love with. If he didn’t have a cold, hard ball of ash in his chest in place of a heart.Eventually, he can’t condone his own interest in the sniper any more. He turns on the TV on mute, some documentary about rice farming replete with elderly farmers and shots of green shoots struggling up in narrow, muddy paddies. It’s boring enough that, even with the cold crush of adrenaline that comes when he remembers the nightmare, he feels himself growing tired.Rei turns off the TV and rolls into his futon. Listening to Akai’s low, quiet breathing, he falls asleep.***They go for a walk into Hakone the next day.It’s much like any small tourist town, busy with both Japanese and foreign visitors flocking to the shops, cafes and snack parlours. The sidewalks are narrow, and the pedestrians spill out into the single-lane street between passing cars, their arms laden with bags and packages.Rei is used to playing an innocent – the innocent barista, the innocent disciple, the innocent neighbour who always seems to be around. He is extremely good at faking interest, and in demonstrating just enough skill to pass as an expert in a number of fields.Shopping for no one but himself is strangely dissatisfying. Rei knows what Amuro Tooru would buy, what he likes, what fits with his low-key slightly fussy style. He sees a set of wood and stone coasters, and thinks they would look good on Amuro Tooru’s table. He sees a line of tall smooth ceramic mugs with different-coloured pastel interiors, and thinks they would suit Poirot.He doesn’t see anything that makes him, Furuya Rei, want to buy it. They walk through shops of wooden crafts, of glassware, of clothing accessories printed with cats, bears, tanuki. Rei sees a fox plushie that reminds him of Okiya Subaru, but he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t feel anything at all about it.The only stores he feels mildly interested in are the ones selling local produce and preserves. There are jars of chestnut, yuzu, mikan, persimmon puré; boxes of salted fruit peels; bottles of luxury oils and vinegars; and crinkling plastic bags filled with dried mushrooms in all shapes, sizes and colours. The stores are decorated with flame-coloured sprigs of momiji, plastic leaves fluttering in the cool mountain breeze. Akai smokes in the street outside while Rei peruses the ingredients, but in the end he doesn’t buy anything. Who would he cook for? In what home?Akai looks at him as he comes out empty handed, one sharp eye catching the light and gleaming like radiant uranium glass, but he simply grinds out his cigarette and stuffs his hands in his pocket, ready to continue their slow meander down the town’s tourist alley.At the end of the long road is Hakone station, with a wide square, lockers, a small tourist information centre, and a bus stop. They turn around when they reach it and go in search of a restaurant for lunch.After lunch – curry in a small diner-style restaurant – they walk up into the mountains. It’s late for momiji but the summers are stretching longer and longer these days, and the last red and orange foliage is clinging to dark spindly branches. The paths are strewn with leaves; they pass over bridges to see the riverbanks a riot of rust and ruby, orange and ochre. They walk mostly in silence.It’s quiet here. There aren’t many other hikers, the town’s tourists sticking close to the shops and onsens. Just the two of them alone in the woods, footsteps crunching on dead leaves, their breath fogging in the humid air. It smells cool, of leaf mould and soil. Occasionally Akai, hands in his pockets, bumps his elbow against Rei. It must be intentional; he’s far too careful on his feet to mis-step, and he doesn’t apologize for it.At the end of a long, winding dirt trail they find a small shrine. It’s a typical road-side feature, small wooden roof and stone jizo with a red apron so ancient it’s almost colourless. All around it are small buddhas, dozens of them lined up in twisting, rounded patterns like some kind of mandala. In the trees the birds chatter and the wind rustles dryly, a papery sound. Rei feels suddenly tired, tired and alone and with no idea whatsoever why he’s here.There’s nothing here. Nothing for kilometers but forest and one tiny lonely shrine with its scattered statues. No one to fight, no one to save.A few meters off the path a beech tree has fallen. It probably fell years ago, its branches dead, the end of its trunk rotten. Rei shuffles through the dry underbrush and takes a seat. The smooth bark is cold beneath him, hard and ungiving. He stares into the trees, seeing without really watching the movement of the branches, the flick of the leaves in the afternoon sun.This place feels like he does. Empty. Pointless. He could by lying here in the dry earth beside the beech tree, slowly covered in fallen leaves. Asleep – dead. No difference.Beside him the trunk shivers as Akai sits.Without asking, without warning, Akai reaches over and catches Rei’s hand. He’s wearing gloves, thin kid leather, and Akai pushes the edge up with his thumb and presses his lips to Rei’s naked palm. Rei jerks, not so much trying to pull his hand away as simply perplexed. “What the f@ck,” he says, tired.“You look cold,” says Akai, his breath warm on the wet patch on Rei’s hand, on the bareness of his wrist and the thin blue veins that lie beneath his skin. It sends a tiny jolt through him, a shivering curl in his stomach.“I’m wearing more than you,” replies Rei, with a light cashmere sweater beneath his toggle-fastened wool coat, a tan tartan scarf twisted tight around his neck. Akai is wearing just a crew-neck shirt and his bomber jacket, his pale throat and long fine hands bare.“Cold here,” says Akai, releasing Rei’s hand to tap his chest above his heart.Rei bats his hand away lightly, tired rather than angry. “No one asked you, FBI. Your job is over. Go home and bury yourself under someone else’s skin.”Instead, Akai catches his hand again. He pulls off the glove and presses light kisses across Rei’s palm, over the inside of his joints. He sucks at the webbing between his fingers; he turns his hand over and lowers his face to caress his knuckles.It should be irritating and offensive. But Akai’s mouth is talented, his lips and teeth and tongue sensitive. The kisses are just careful enough not to be soppy or slobbering, each patient and individual; with each touch a tiny flame licks a little higher inside Rei, warmth slowly spreading.Akai pulls Rei’s wrist to his mouth, runs his teeth over the bone where it lies shallow beneath the skin, the nip almost painful, before washing away the bite with the soft sweetness of his tongue. He licks at the tender inside above the veins and tendons, small careful movements of his tongue as if he were tasting Rei, cataloguing sweat, soap, leather.“Stop,” breathes Rei, the sound swallowed in the swish of the leaves and the chattering of birds.Akai looks up at him, mouth pressed to his wrist, and sets his teeth fully around Rei’s arm, biting just gently. Rei hisses, shocked. Akai releases his hold and turns Rei’s hand, now working a wet, filthy kiss into his palm.“Akai Shuuichi,” hisses Rei, heat flaring in his belly, between his legs. He yanks his hand back, holds it away from himself, wet and throbbing hotly in the cold breeze. “I’m not – yours.”Akai straightens, rising tall like a jaguar stretching his spine. His gaze is imperious, intense.“I’m not. I’m not yours to romance, and I’m not yours to fix. You can f@ck off back to America and find someone who suits you.”“You suit me,” murmurs Akai, leaning in. “I’m used to the sound of your footsteps, the beat of your heart. I like the way you taste under my tongue.”“Those are pathetic reasons,” says Rei. “Get better taste.” But he lets Akai press his face in beneath his jaw, lets him force Rei’s head up so he can kiss his neck over the pulse point, so that he can nuzzle at the bolt of Rei’s jaw.Rei’s truly growing hotter now, his heart tripping faster beneath the heavy fold of his ribs. It feels harder to fight this; it feels easy to surrender. To let Akai kiss him, unwind the scarf from around his neck and lap that wet tongue into the shallow valley at the base of Rei’s throat. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, the wind whispering in his hair, while Akai makes a meal of him. The sniper lets the scarf fall to the ground and undoes the toggles of Rei’s coat with his clever hands, pushing the sides apart. He reaches over and places his hands on Rei’s waist, clasping him tight, and pulls him up. Rei trips to his feet and veers sharply, tumbling down to sit on Akai’s thick thighs.Akai looks up at him, his lips glistening, parted to show the tip of his pink tongue. There’s pink in his cheeks too, at the end of his pointed nose; the curve of his ear is berry red. His face is sharp, sleek as he sits beneath Rei’s full weight. He puts his hands on Rei’s hips, spread like starfish, bracketing him, then slips them up beneath his sweater and shirt to plaster sweatbox hot against Rei’s flanks.Rei stares down, his body limber with desire, a pulse of interest thrumming low inside. He’s too tired to fight it, too worn out to pull away when Akai lifts his face and fits their mouths together. Rei dips into the embrace, lets himself fall into it. Lets Akai catch him.They kiss for a long time, autumn air pr@ckling against their heated skin. Akai licks into his mouth, possessive without being domineering, leading without demanding. When they break apart, foreheads pressed together, his breath puffs over Rei’s cheeks, humid and curling. His hands roam Rei’s body, charting the lines of his torso, the flatness of his stomach and the bumpy ridge of his ribs.Rei doesn’t feel sad. He hardly feels anything, right now. But Akai’s embrace, the determined, dedicated caresses seem to melt something inside of him. Tears well up in his throat, his eyes. They overflow, slipping hot and salty down his cheeks. He doesn’t know why. He can’t explain it, and that ignorance feels worse, feels perplexing and frustrating and exhausting.Akai slips his hands out from beneath his shirt, and for a moment Rei thinks he’s going to push him away. Instead he fits his palm over the back of Rei’s head, cradles him gentle as an ocean wave. He presses his mouth to Rei’s face and kisses away the tears, his lips smoothing them into nothingness. More come, spilling over, and Akai does the same. Again and again, patient, inexhaustible. Until Rei is dry, the well inside him empty. Until he’s breathing hard, lungs aching, forehead resting against Akai’s.They sit there, breathing together. Akai’s pace is slower, steadier, an anchor to Rei’s racing heart. The cold air starts to seep in beneath Rei’s open coat, his rolled-up sweater baring a strip of skin at his waist. His face is dry now, moss-cool.Finally Akai lets his hands fall to Rei’s shoulders, pushes him gently back to sit up straight. His rear, perched on Akai’s legs, is starting to go numb; he can only imagine how asleep Akai’s legs must be.“Let’s go buy some beer,” says Akai. “I’m sure something appalling is on television.”Rei, despite himself, snorts.They get to their feet, creaky, stiff, and go.***Back at the ryokan, Rei puts the extra cans of Kirin in the fridge and tosses Akai a bag of shrimp crackers to open. He’s stripped off his coat and scarf, sits on the zabuton in his slippers and opens a beer.There’s a show on about wild mushroom foraging in Hokkaido, and Rei repulses Akai’s efforts to select a new channel. They eat salty crackers and learn about morels. Rei would be learning significantly more if he weren’t being distracted by Akai slowly licking his fingers clean.It goes on for almost half an hour, until the bag of snacks is empty and Rei’s beer is finished. The program is still running, but when Akai lifts his thumb to lap at the pad Rei gets up abruptly and crosses to plunk himself down in front of the sniper. A man can be pushed too far. “You’re a menace,” he says. “You have no manners. You barge in and take over, unasked and unwanted. You –”Akai leans forward and kisses him.He tastes of shrimp and salt, rich and savoury. This time he’s not gentle, not kind. He devours Rei, crowding into his space and taking what he wants.Rei kicks him in the shin, and when he breaks off to curse climbs up into his lap and pushes him back. He shoves a hand through Akai’s dark silken hair, scraping his nails against his scalp as he pulls, and bites at his exposed throat. It’s not sexy; it’s sharp, savage, his teeth marking cream-pale skin with lines of red. Akai draws in a sharp breath, hands catching in the back of Rei’s sweater for a moment before he pushes down and digs the tips of his fingers in beneath Rei’s belt and waistband. They dip into the swell of his ass, a constellation of round heated brands, and he tips forward closer on his knees and sucks a mark over Akai’s jugular.It feels natural from here to shove Akai, to put him on his back on the floor so Rei does, toppling the sniper and looming above him wet-lipped and feral. Akai lies there, one arm stretched above his head, staring up with ice-sharp eyes. Rei can see the flutter of his pulse in the hollow of his throat, can see the slight tremble of his ridiculously heavy lashes. His jeans ride low over his hips, a sliver of stomach flashing like the thinnest crescent moon peeking out from behind midnight clouds.Rei bends over him, back bowed. His blond hair hangs at the edges of his field of view, a wheat-coloured curtain. “Is this what you wanted? Me here in your fancy room, bought and paid for? Seduced by luxury and a nice meal?”Akai, lying under him, slowly lifts his knee so that his thigh slides up Rei’s inseam. He holds Rei’s gaze as his touch skates higher. “No expectations,” he says.“Suit your actions to your words,” snaps back Rei, but he doesn’t move as Akai’s thigh fits between his legs, pressing softly against his half-hard c@ck. Akai rubs; he bites down on his lip, stifling a sound.Akai’s lips quirk upwards.It’s the smile that does it, that lights a fire in Rei. He can just barely swallow solicitousness, kindness, even empathy from the FBI agent. But not self-satisfaction. He ruts down, riding Akai’s leg, pleasure blossoming rapidly. Akai’s eyes darken, long lashes casting a shadow over them as Rei grinds. He lets his mouth fall open, breathing loudly as he takes his enjoyment at his own pace. He leans down, shoves his hands beneath Akai’s light-weight shirt and rucks it up in a fat roll beneath his pits. Bending, Rei seals his mouth over a copper-coloured nipple, soaks it with his tongue and sucks hard to coax out the sensitivity before teasing it with his teeth. Akai jerks, his knee bumping up towards Rei’s ass; Rei makes an angry noise and drops his weight hard, asserting control. He pants into the sudden pressure against his c@ck, the tightness in his pants.Akai’s grabbing at his waist, thumbs tracing the inside of his belt with urgent speed; Rei lets him, lets him find the buckle and rip it tight, then free. He lets the American agent slip the button undone and press his long hand down inside Rei’s pants, cupping him. He hisses hot air out across Akai’s wet-red nipple, bumps his chin up to set his teeth over the raised curve of his uninjured collarbone where it stands out starkly as Akai stretches to palm him.Rei shucks off his pants and briefs, shoving them down past his knees and kicking them off. His socked feet slip on the tatami; Akai catches his hips, thumbs digging in beneath bone to the tender parts of him. He whines, jerking, his full c@ck throbbing with need.Akai pushes up; a moment later he’s rolling them over, his dark gleaming hair haloed by the overhead light. Before Rei can protest his dominance, he shuffles down and lowers his head. Takes Rei’s pr@ck in his mouth, tongue laving the head. Pleasure rolls up Rei’s spine, long and luxurious, the pleasure of heat and silk. His legs fall apart, widen, making a home for Akai who takes him deeper. He works Rei slowly, thoroughly, stroking and sucking. The sniper has never been able to deep-throat him, but laid out like this on his back with his c@ck being worshipped it’s hard to mind. Akai hums, the sound buzzing against his sensitive flesh, and wraps his palms over the tender insides of Rei’s thighs. It’s intimate, that gesture, unnecessarily so as Akai holds him open so he can better pleasure him. Rei lets his head fall back on the mat, his earlier stinging irritation washed away by languorous bliss.Arousal builds in waves, warm and sloshing, rising to a slow peak. Rei’s breath comes faster, his fingers twitching, looking for something to tangle in. Akai bends in deeper, his breath hot on Rei’s flesh, the base of his c@ck. One hand slides up, fingers slipping down to fondle his b@lls, squeezing lightly. Rei groans, hips twitching; Akai laughs, a soft rush of air. He pushes back further, pressing a finger up against Rei’s taint, rubbing the sensitive flesh there.Rei gasps, ass lifting and c@ck shoving deeper into Akai’s mouth as ecstasy erupts sharply. The sniper pulls back, coughing, but closes his lips around the aching head of Rei’s c@ck just as his @rg@sm crests. He sucks him through it, tongue softening as he finishes and goes limp. Only when Rei’s knees fall apart does he pull off.He looks obscene; red swollen lips, chin soaked with spit, throat marked up. Seeing him like this, Rei feels generous enough to offer a hand job. But Akai is already shoving down his own pants and boxers, taking himself in hand and jerking off as his eyes roam Rei’s half-naked body.Rei lies there watching him, eyes heavy-lidded as Akai jacks his c@ck. It’s fully hard, thick and veined, plum-dark and redder at the tip. It’s wet, glistening, and Rei lets himself enjoy the idea of Akai staining his underwear while he blew him, so hot and bothered by sucking Rei off.It doesn’t last long; Akai comes quickly with just a quick intake of breath, white spurts over Rei’s thighs. Rei makes a sound of irritation.Akai looks down at him, cheeks flushed, eyebrow crooked.Then he leans forward, and licks his own spend off Rei’s legs.Rei sucks in a long, shuddering breath. “F@ck@ng f@ck,” he says, when Akai finishes and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth like he might after a good meal. He sits up, taking care not to knee the sniper in the nose. Rising, he pulls his sweater and shirt over his head; this time, he doesn’t bother with folding them. “I guess you’d better come and wash me off properly,” he says. Akai, on all fours like an animal, looks up. “Well?”The FBI agent rises, and follows him out into the private onsen.They wash the sweat off each other, hot water slipping over flushed skin. It might have been more erotic if the air weren’t so cold; as it is, they finish quickly and hurry into the water. Akai makes a grab for his ass beneath the surface; Rei splashes him in the face. “Don’t be disgusting. Not in the bath.”Akai rolls his eyes at him, but settles down to soak.Rei closes his eyes, and lets himself float.***Dinner arrives fairly soon after they emerge, pink and wrinkled, from the onsen. Rei limits himself to beer; Akai, somewhat surprisingly, doesn’t drink at all.After, Rei goes out for a walk and Akai steps out for a smoke so the maid can put out the futons.The sky is dark, washed with tones of old ink: indigo, soot, sapphire. Tiny white stars cut through, chips of diamond. Rei walks through the quiet ryokan, occasionally hearing the sound of laughter or glasses clinking, water splashing and doors rustling. The wind whispers in the pines, the bamboo leaves.He finds himself sitting, in just his cotton yukata, on the edge of an engawa looking out at the rock garden. It’s cold, but the cold feels good, clean and sharp against his skin. Something cleansing, sloughing away softness and feebleness. It twists around his throat, brushes over his chest, curls chilly against his ankles. This is the night that he slunk out into, Furuya Rei, the darkness that welcomed him years ago when he had only one face. If there’s anywhere he belongs it’s here, somewhere silent and cellar-dark, somewhere cold as buried bone.Somewhere he can’t feel his heart beating.Time passes; he doesn’t know how long. Eventually he hears the light pad of footsteps. He knows their sound, the weight and the rhythm. He doesn’t look up as Akai stops beside him, his slippers the colour of hickory wood.“It’s warmer inside,” says Akai, at last.“I like it here.”“That feels like an insult.”Rei looks up. Akai’s tall in his dark yukata, a loose haori over his shoulders. He looks so… natural, like this. Like someone you might meet in a mid-summer festival, like someone you might like to take home.“It’s not you I’m avoiding,” says Rei, slowly.Akai stands stilly for a moment before folding himself down to sit beside Rei, long legs hanging over the edge of the raised veranda. “What, then?” he asks. He smells faintly of cigarettes, but also of frost. His smell isn’t at all that of Gin.Rei turns to look back at the garden, the stones covered in strange, angular shadows in the faint light that bleeds out of the ryokan. “I don’t know. I belong here. Places like this. I feel like myself here. No where else. And it’s so… faint. The person I used to be. He’s here. If I leave, I’ll lose him again.”“Who are you, when you’re not him?”Rei looks at Akai, gaze flat. “No one,” he says. “Amuro Tooru is gone – I crammed him so full of life and meaning and industry. But he’s gone, erased. Bourbon? Him too. So much casual cruelty, so much intensity. Snuffed out. 5 years wiped out. And what’s left? I don’t know. Furuya Rei lived for two things: his friends, and his mission. So you tell me, FBI. What’s left?”Akai takes a slow breath, the sound of it the sigh of a wave brushing over sand. Instead of answering he twists, his dark shape moving. A moment later the soft, dragging weight of his haori falls over Rei’s shoulders. He can feel the warmth of Akai’s body, can smell the faintest hint of his clean scent.“I like being cold,” he says, sharply.“No. You like to feel something. Something unpleasant, something sharp and unwanted. Something you can accept. Even me, you have to be battered into taking. But Furuya-kun. You can learn to accept other things. Softer, kinder things.”“I’m not,” begins Rei, so many words lined up on his tongue. Undeserving. Intransigent. Damaged. He can’t push any of them out; they lie in his mouth like marbles, smooth and round and pressing. Perfect descriptors that he can’t shake off.“You are, though,” murmurs Akai. “Right now, you’re many things you would hate the sound of. And why not? You stared evil in the eye, every day. That can scoop the very heart out of you. It takes time, for that hollowness to fade. It takes a long time. But it does.”Rei draws away, lets the haori sleeve slip off his shoulder. “Don’t pretend you know.”Akai’s voice is low and mellow, warm as an old bell filling a hall. “I don’t have to pretend. Do you think I’ve lost no one, nothing? I looked evil in the face every day for years too, Furuya-kun. And I left two people I cared for behind when I was blown. One of them died for me, for a dream of a future. The other is trapped in the past, living in a world of ghosts. Well. I was a ghost, once. I can be a while longer. For him.”Rei closes his eyes. He can almost feel the starlight, the cold dance of it, the prickle of frost. “That’s just sentimentality,” he says.He startles when Akai’s breath puffs hot against his neck, curling around him kitten-soft. “No. It’s experience. It’s easy to know something when you’ve seen it in a mirror.”Rei turns to look at him but they’re too close, Akai’s temple to his cheek, the bridge of his nose bumping Rei’s jaw. He feels the flutter of his lashes, a butterfly kiss. Rei shivers, just lightly.Akai reaches around him, encircling him with his arms, and presses his palms to Rei’s neck. His hands radiate heat after so long in the chill, cozy and comforting.“Come inside,” whispers Akai in his ear. “Before someone comes along, and sees what a mess you’ve made of me.”It’s hard. Hard to leave behind the cold, crisp darkness. But Akai nudges him up, tugs him to his feet and draws him along, tucking the haori over his shoulders.They shuffle along the engawa in the dimness, Akai heeling close as a watchdog.***Back in their room, Akai puts on the TV and fills the small plastic kettle while Rei sits on his futon, the heavy duvet over his lap. His knuckles are pale with the cold, his nailbeds blue; his skin is starting to throb with the sudden heat.Akai’s pale neck, he notices now, is covered in blossoming bruises and scratches. Ordinarily he would feel pride, satisfaction at having marked up the FBI agent. But he wasn’t acting with intention, with thoughtfulness or deliberateness. He was simply reacting, a lit fuse, and that scares him now.There are bags of green and black tea in the room along with two mugs, yunomi-style. Akai, without asking him, makes green tea. He puts it on the table beside Rei’s futon, steam swirling upwards. While Rei waits for it to steep he digs out the pill bottle from his bag and, saying nothing, swallows two dry.Now that they’re in the buttery brightness of their room, Rei can see that Akai’s yukata is slipping loose, the obi tied poorly. Akai, for his perfect mastery of Japanese, still slips up when it comes to cultural things. He takes showers in the morning; he drinks Bailey’s in his coffee at Christmastime. He doesn’t, it appears, know how to tie an obi, the knot a plain overhand.The sniper is sitting on his futon cross-legged, his calves bare and the hem of the yukata skating up his full thighs. The cotton robe hangs loosely open over his chest, barely cinched closed. It doesn’t look sexy; it looks merely haphazard. Rei rises to his knees and crosses over, sees Akai give him a surprised look. He drops to sit seiza in front of him and reaches out, yanking the obi undone with a hiss of cloth. The loose yukata starts to fall open; Rei grabs it and pulls it closed more tightly, tugs it to sit properly over Akai’s broad shoulders and against his slim sides. He pulls the obi taut, and ties it properly. “Like this,” he says, tone impatient. “Try harder to be competent.”“Not much incentive, if Furuya-kun will be the one to correct me,” purrs Akai, letting his gaze fall pointedly down the now-gaping front of Rei’s yukata as he bends forward. Rei gives the obi a little yank, Akai jerking. Then he shuffles back to his futon to drink his tea.The tea is unexceptional, but it goes down smoothly to pool with liquid heat in his belly. It washes away the memory of the cutting night air, of icy blades against his skin. Rei is left feeling unmoored, awkward and out of place in this perfectly normal room with a variety show on TV and a cup of tea at hand.He looks to Akai and sees that although he’s sitting up his eyes are closed, head starting to nod. It’s not late, not even nine. But Rei reminds himself that he was in surgery a week ago; they walked for kilometers today. It’s easy to forget with the FBI agent showing almost no sign of weakness, asking little and giving up less.Rei gets up again, quieter this time. He drifts to Akai’s side and puts a hand on his good shoulder. One green eye opens, peering up blearily at him. Exhausted; drugged.Akai’s sitting squarely atop his duvet; rather than try to get him off it and back into his bed, Rei merely flips his own duvet up and nudges him over. The maid put the two futons side-by-side, couple-style, and Rei hasn’t bothered to change it. Akai obediently follows his lead, shuffling into Rei’s bed. Instead of lying down and going to sleep like a good little agent, though, he catches Rei’s wrist and pulls him in.“It’s 8:45,” Rei tells him, repressively. Akai just pulls harder, the tug strong but blunt, his movements heavy. Rei groans but lets himself be dragged down. Down, into the bed, where Akai rolls his limp body atop him as if Rei were a mattress. He sighs, breath feathering past Rei’s face.He’s heavy, of course, and unyielding. Already his breathing is evening out, the drugs dragging him down into sleep. Rei isn’t exactly trapped, but there’s a perception of it, a feeling of being constrained without choice or option.It’s… freeing. Being able to just lie here, not have to think about what he’s doing or why. Not have to wonder why he doesn’t fit in this pleasant room, not have to wonder where he does fit. The permission to simply stay, thoughtless and resting, is liberating.With his eyes closed, Rei can feel the thump of Akai’s heartbeat through the drum of his chest. He can hear the soft whistle of his breaths, can smell him, his scent growing musky now, strong and masculine beneath his jaw. Akai’s hips are pressed to his and there’s a faint hint of l@st that curls inside him at that weight, at the knowledge of their closeness and the idea of grinding up against the sniper’s somnolent form. Maybe even of parting the folds of his yukata, touching him while he sleeps, seeing how his body alone reacts to pleasure.Rei turns his head away and dismisses the thought. Akai has given him many things, most of them items that Rei didn’t want. His trust is a rare gift that Rei does value.He closes his eyes. In the background, the TV makes a merry sound, chatter and laughter. Outside, the wind rattles against the shutters. Pressed close against him, Akai’s heart beats on, steady, sound.Rei drifts.***He wakes up feeling gluey and groggy. The lights and the TV are still on, but it’s late. Akai is sleeping, draped quiet atop him like the world’s heaviest bolster. Rei edges out from beneath him, sets him down in the mattress.He gets up and takes a p@ss, brushes his teeth. Turns out the light, and shuts off the TV. In the darkness the room could be empty, could be anywhere, at any time. Slowly, he crosses the room to the outside door. He puts his hand on it, feels the coolness under his palm. Inviting, alluring.Darkness ahead. Darkness behind.
  It’s easy to know something when you’ve seen it in a mirror.
Rei stands there, feet bare on the smooth tatami, hand on the door, for what feels like an age. Outside there is no one, nothing. And inside?Inside is one last old ghost. Waiting for him, a candle in the night.Rei turns back.Footsteps light, he slips across the room and folds himself into bed alongside Akai, their bodies close together. Face tucked close to Akai’s shoulder, he breathes in the familiar smell of him. In the darkness, Rei pulls the duvet up, bundling them in together, and goes back to sleep.***He wakes early, before dawn.Their bodies have tangled together in the night, Akai’s arm over his stomach, Rei’s ankle on his calf. The casualness of it takes Rei’s breath away. The simplicity of just waking up in Akai’s arms and having no need to disappear, no fingerprints to scrub, no mask to don. It feels like a trap somehow, something too obvious, too easy.Akai takes a deeper breath and slides his palm over Rei’s belly, fingers slipping beneath the yukata’s opening. Rei turns his head to see Akai’s eyes open, staring at him from where his head lies on its side on the futon. He can’t tell if Akai was already awake, waiting for him, or if Rei woke him.Rei swallows, holding himself still, afraid to break the spell. It’s broken anyway, by Akai using his long clever fingers to untie the obi, slipping the slender belt off. When Rei doesn’t pull away or protest, he pushes open the yukata. Rei’s naked beneath, his dark skin shadowed in the dim pre-dawn light.Akai rolls over and kisses him. His mouth, his cheek, the soft place beneath his ear. The bolt of his jaw, the length of his throat. He works his way down Rei’s body, licking, sucking, drawing shivery lines with his sharp teeth and puffing hot air over aching skin. Arousal builds slowly, gathers like rolling clouds; Rei cards his hands through Akai’s hair as he suckles at a nipple, loud and lewd.It’s entirely different than the quick, fierce f@ck@ng they had done before the fall of the Syndicate. Akai touches him everywhere, his hands soft and warm and soothing as he strokes with the pad of his thumb and the broad flat of his heel. He traces the lines of Rei’s ribs, skin stretched silvery overtop them, skims over each one as if they were something to be prized, valued. He draws whorls over Rei’s smooth flanks, licks along the pattern of creases left overnight by the yukata with the edge of his tongue, delicate as a painter’s brush.Rei feels hypnotised. No one’s ever done this for him, been so thorough in exploring him, or so tender. He’s often been proud of his body, his muscle tone, his fitness. He’s enjoyed the hungry awe in his partners’ eyes at the sight of him.This isn’t l@st. It isn’t animal hunger, raw and ferocious. It’s something much more determined, more deliberate but no less intense. Akai shuffles slowly down his body, drawing his chin low over Rei’s belly, his pubic bone until his c@ck taps against Akai’s cheek, drizzling wetly. Rei shivers at the gentle touch, just the lightest tease. But Akai doesn’t acknowledge it, instead dipping his head to nip at Rei’s inner thighs and then lap away the sting. His hands trace lower, thumbs rubbing into the softness behind his knees, the curve of his calves.Rei is floating. It’s a weightless, warm feeling. He’s hard, dripping, but the ache is faint, good. A slow-burning flame, a tight pulse. He wants Akai’s mouth, his hand, but he doesn’t need it. He’s happy to let Akai touch him, stroke him, slather him with his attention. Here, in the darkness before dawn, it’s something he can accept.Without warning, Akai pulls up and places his hands on Rei’s hips, rolling him over on the futon. Rei’s breath flattens out of him with a whuff; he kicks in warning.Akai places his wide, strong hands on the firm backs of his thighs, and tightens his grip so that his fingers bite in deep. It’s searing, hot, and Rei rolls his hips just lightly against the futon and moans at the wave of bliss.Akai digs his fingers into the thick muscle, an almost-rough massage, pulling at the flesh, urging Rei’s legs apart. He works his hands upwards, the pulse in Rei’s c@ck quickening as his fingers reach the crease between thigh and ass, as they skate inside his crack. He slaps his palms over Rei’s ass and massages it, too, pushing and pulling like a fierce tide. His flat palms work his cheeks up, outwards, apart. His grip is firm enough that he’s pressing Rei’s hips into the futon, rutting him against it. His c@ck is leaking, making a damp spot beneath him as he rubs against the sheet, bliss licking through him.For a moment he feels Akai’s hot breath between his cheeks; before he can truly process it, the sniper’s tongue is licking a wet stripe up over his hole. Rei jerks, yelping, and Akai digs his hands in to hold him spread apart. It’s filthy, the feeling of being exposed, admired like this, heat flaring up Rei’s throat into his face. Akai dips in, and licks into him.Rei’s never been eaten out before. Most of his sexual experience has been as an undercover agent, and as such it’s been fast and basic out of necessity. There hasn’t been time to experiment; there hasn’t been the safety and trust needed to experiment. Now, as Akai works his folded tongue inside, Rei shudders with the intensity of the arousal that washes through him. It’s not just the physical sensation, it’s the intimacy, the fact that Akai is willingly doing this to him – for him. A thick knot wells up in his throat, just as hot as Akai’s tongue inside him. Akai’s breath is searing in his crack; his spit trickles out, soaking Rei all along his face where it’s shoved in against him. He feels intensely penetrated – not deep, but so obscenely. With such intent, Akai subsuming his pride for Rei’s pleasure.Waves of ecstasy are rolling through him, his hips jerking as Akai f@cks him with his tongue. His c@ck is sliding against the sheets, throbbing with want. Akai shifts; beside his tongue he presses in a finger, working Rei open with new intent. Rei’s leg slips on the futon, his body shaking now, overloaded with what Akai’s doing to him. A second finger, Akai’s tongue lapping between them; Rei can hardly catch his breath, his throat so thick with an emotion he has no name for. He’s writhing, twisting in the sheets, sweaty and desperate.Akai finally pulls out; Rei keens, the loss a physical feeling of bereftness inside him. There’s a sound of cloth rustling, then Akai’s back, guiding his c@ck against Rei’s ass. He lifts his hips, aching, empty, and Akai slides in.It’s been more than a week since they last f@ck@d; Akai feels incredibly thick inside him, every centimetre pressing against Rei. He can hardly breathe he’s so full, but Akai clearly needs this as much as him because he barely waits a heartbeat after he bottoms out before he starts moving.His thrusts are full, deep, milking his pleasure from Rei’s tight ass. His fat head strokes over Rei’s passage, quickly finding his prostate and hitting it as Rei jerks with the pressure. He grabs Rei’s hips and lifts him, fits them together closer, f@ck@ng in hard. It’s overwhelming, the sear of his c@ck, the pounding. Rei’s panting, needy, desperate, his body crying out for fulfilment. Akai reaches beneath him, catches his blood-hot prick and strokes him.Rei only hears the after-echo of his cry as he comes, as Akai f@cks him over the edge and keeps working him hard. He whines as he keeps spilling, @rg@sm pounded out of him; Akai lets go of his c@ck and reaches up to grab his nipple with a slick hand, tweaking it. Rei sobs, full to overflowing, overwhelmed. His hole is still clenching, his whole body singing with ecstasy, and a moment later he feels Akai release inside him.When he’s done Akai brings them down carefully, together, still inside. Rei curls inwards and he follows, surrounding him. Only when he starts to soften does he pull out, spit and seed wetting Rei’s inner thighs. Akai wraps his arms around him, his touch light but unmistakable.Rei sighs as he presses a kiss to the knob of his spine.***They clean up together, after, in the bathroom; Rei refuses the idea of going into the onsen before breakfast. They brush their teeth and shave, Akai offering to do it for him with a crooked grin that earns him an elbow to the gut. The sun is up now, and what happened in the dark feels – not distinct, but distant.After breakfast they head out again. Akai’s been consulting his phone like a real tourist, and suggests Lake Ashinoko which is apparently disgustingly scenic. Rei, without the interest in doing opposition research, agrees.Apart from the drive to Hakone, Rei hasn’t really travelled with Akai since they were both undercover in the Syndicate. Since Akai’s hair was long and his demeanor was cooler, his replies if possible more cutting. At the time, being in a car with Rye had been both a hardship and a threat. Now Akai sits in the passenger seat reading about the lake on his phone, looking for all the world like a perfectly normal boyfriend on a perfectly normal sightseeing excursion.It's the kind of normality Rei hadn’t even dreamed about as Bourbon, because it had seemed so far from anything that was possible. The kind of thing he had seen on TV, heard chatter about in Poirot, observed only as an outsider. It’s bizarre to experience it now; it feels somehow surreal. Like he’s dreaming, like he’s going to wake up and he and Rye will be on their way to commit a felony, Glocks under their coats.  Next to him Akai glances up, catching his eye. “Aa?”Rei shakes his head. “Nothing.” He shifts down for the upcoming hill.***The lake is, as advertised, scenic. It’s deeply blue beneath a clear sky, a blue the colour of forget-me-knots, of curaçao. The surrounding forested mountains are in the dying gasps of their autumn leaves, a carpet of burnt umber and rust. There are a number of trails, including one with a famous view of Mt Fuji; a map near the parking lot provides information.There’s a feeling of frost in the air as they get out. Rei pulls on his gloves, and Akai also produces a pair – black, unsurprisingly. In his black bomber jacket his pale neck is naked, exposed, and in the cold air even whiter than usual which only emphasizes the marks Rei left there last night. Before they get halfway across the parking lot, Rei has unwound his tartan scarf, cashmere soft and supple. Without saying a word he reaches up and wraps it around Akai’s neck, securing it with a loose knot. Akai looks at him in surprise.“Have a little self-respect,” says Rei, shoving his hands back in his pockets. Akai lets out a huffing breath; it clouds white in the air.“I wasn’t the one responsible,” he replies. But he dips his chin down, eyes slipping closed as he buries his nose in the scarf and smells. Rei feels a flush of heat and turns away.“It’s this way to the trailhead, FBI.”The trail is well-maintained and not very challenging, but Rei keeps his pace slow in awareness of Akai’s obvious pain at the end of the day before. They walk side-by-side without touching; occasionally Akai hums a few bars of a song, which feels like some sort of mind game. Rye certainly never gave any indication he was interested in music, even when he learned Bourbon and Scotch were. Rei finds himself glancing up at him repeatedly, at the way his scarf brushes Akai’s chin, at the flush of pinkness in his cheeks from the exertion. At the way he licks his dry lips to keep them moist in the frosty air.About a kilometer along the trail is a small tea house. There’s a red-blanketed bench outside beneath the wide stretch of an umbrella; it must be coming to the end of the little shop’s season. It’s run by an old granny who offers tea and sweet golden miso dango. They put in an order and take a seat while the old lady bustles around putting cups and plates on a tray.“When do you go back to America?” Rei asks, slipping off his leather gloves and tucking them into his pockets.“Nothing has been decided. Currently, I’m on medical leave. Afterwards…” Akai shrugs. “Both the FBI and the NYPD have expressed noted interest in my return.”Of course. Despite his many flaws, Akai is an exceptional officer. A top-tier sniper, a talented detective, and an experienced undercover operative. The FBI must be impatient to have him back in their stable. Must be impatient to pry him out of Japan.“How convenient,” says Rei, taking the tray from the elderly server and setting it down between them. There are two cups of steaming green tea, and two plates of miso dango, three skewers each in a neat little row. “I’m sure you’re eager to get back to your pick-up trucks and your guns.”Akai, fitting the end of the dango into his mouth, looks at Rei as he closes his teeth delicately over the pale mochi slathered with golden sauce. He lets his eyes droop, pointedly seductive, turning the gesture incredibly lewd as he wraps his lips over the dango and slowly pulls it off between his teeth. “I’m in no hurry,” he says, when he finishes chewing. And then, lashes heavy over jade-green eyes: “Japan has its attractions.”“Ridiculous,” says Rei, and pulls off a dango with sharp efficiency.In fact, he’s offended. Offended that Akai is treating him like a vacation home, something temporary and exotic to be enjoyed at his convenience. And as soon as he realises that, he’s further offended – at the fact that he cares at all. Akai’s nothing to him. What he thinks, what he values – why should it matter to Rei?“Oh? I would have thought you would be the first to defend its charms.”Rei points a now-bare skewer at the FBI agent. “I don’t encourage teasing.”Akai raises his eyebrows. “And if I was being serious?”Rei opens his mouth to protest, to rebuke. Akai twitches his half-eaten skewer out, and puts it in Rei’s mouth, the glutenous dango heavy and hot against his tongue. “I wasn’t lying, Furuya-kun. There are things that tie me here. Things that weigh on me at least equal to my commitments to the Bureau.” Slowly, he pulls the skewer out between Rei’s teeth, wooden stick scraping across them while the dango remains on his tongue. He feels like he’s forgotten how to chew, how to eat.Akai smiles, and pulls off the final ball between his own teeth, the flash of enamel a wolf’s grin.Rei swallows thickly, and turns away to drink his tea.***They keep walking, afterwards. The trail is mostly empty, although now and then they pass a single hiker or a couple walking together. As they climb higher in the shadows there’s frost on the ground, on the bark and the soil beneath the trees. The chill of the air is keen but pleasant contrasted with the heat of Rei’s body, the warmth generated by their pace. He hadn’t had much time in the final few months of the Syndicate’s existence to work out; the stretch in his calves and thighs is welcome, now.More than that… as they walk, occasionally Rei feels a faint blunt pressure, the memory Akai’s c@ck in him this morning. His body still remembers, the throb reminding him not only of being f@ck@d but of Akai’s tongue hot inside him. It’s an uncertain feeling, embarrassment and shame, excitement and arousal. Perplexity, at Akai’s determined worship.Perplexity at everything about Akai. Akai hiking in the mountains of Kanagawa instead of recuperating at home in bed; Akai submitting to watching TV shows and browsing stores and eating meals that hold no interest for him; Akai dressed in a leather jacket and tight black jeans yet wrapped in Rei’s tartan scarf, the dune-coloured cloth the only colour he’s wearing.He shakes his head, and comes away no clearer.“Furuya-kun?”“It’s nothing,” says Rei.The trail ends at the shore of the lake, a wide scenic spot from which Mt Fuji is visible on clear days. Today’s sky is cut-glass, and in the distance the iconic mountain rises, its peak white and the lower stretches a mellow cornflower blue. There’s also a floating torii gate further down the lake shore; a few small tour boats are puttering by, the decks busy with tourists.There are three people already on the beach, a couple and a single man, all a few years younger than Rei. The couple are holding hands, cuddling as they look out over the water. The lone man is smoking a cigarette and taking photos with a DSLR, the lens size suggesting a professional photographer.The beach isn’t large; just a slim sliver of pebbles alongside the crystal blue water. There’s not much room for enjoyment; around them the trees press in close, their dying leaves rustling. Five people is a crowd, something Rei feels as soon as they step down off the trail and onto the firm sand. Especially since the energy between the couple, aggressively lovey-dovey, and the solitary man is tense. The latter makes an irritated noise when Rei and Akai appear, throwing his cigarette down and crushing it in the rocks underfoot.Rei isn’t particularly interested in scenic views, and he’s less interested in being crowded in with Akai and a group of strangers. Akai, hands in his pockets, seems equally uninterested in lingering. His gaze is distant as he faces the lake, no expression on his face. Unmoved by the natural beauty; unmoved by the human drama.Rei, watching Akai rather than either the lake or the other visitors, feels a sudden sense of kinship with the sniper. For the entirety of their relationship, he’s done everything in his power to separate himself from Akai. Initially as a NOC working alongside what he perceived to be a criminal; later, as a NOC working alongside what he perceived to be a murderer. This past year, he’s simply preferred to think of himself as someone making a difference, and Akai as someone sitting on the bench.Now though, standing alongside Akai faced with the others here, he can sense the immense gulf between him and Akai and the other three. He and Akai are on one side of a canyon, alone. There’s no one else – not here, not in the NPA, not in the FBI – who has seen what they’ve seen. Who has lived what they lived.The intensity of that realisation is like a blow; Rei sways, unconsciously reaching out to the only person he can. Akai. His fingers find Akai’s elbow, the heavy coolness of his leather jacket. Akai looks at him, silently inquiring. Unwilling to say anything in front of strangers. The relief of that caution, of how close Akai’s instincts run to his own, is dizzying.He lets go almost instantly but the smooth sensation of the leather lingers on the pads of his fingers. His feeling of reorientation remains too, the awareness that he’s not alone. The awareness that, probably, this is something Akai realised a long time ago.Rei’s still trying to come to grips with this when a fight breaks out on the beach.The photographer has tried to cross to the other side by the couple to take some more shots, and somehow the two men have begun to bicker about who is being a nuisance while the woman ineffectually tries to soothe down the argument. Rei is about to withdraw when the male partner shoves the photographer, and the latter punches out at him.He and Akai both move, Rei crossing around behind the male partner to grab him and pull him back, Akai catching the photographer. Rei wrestles his man away, the girlfriend clinging to him and begging him to calm down. Between the two of them, the male partner gives up quickly, shrugging away from Furuya and caressing his jaw.Rei turns to the photographer just in time to see him ram his elbow back into Akai’s chest, hard. The FBI agent gives a bark of pain but doesn’t let go, his grip tightening. Rei storms over and grabs the man’s camera where it hangs around his neck, twisting the high-powered lens off with a click and holding it out above the rocky beach. “Calm down, or I drop it,” he says.The photographer stops, glaring at him, breathing hard. “Good,” says Rei, as Akai lets him go. He yanks free, straightening his coat. “Please try to behave better in the future.” He hands him back the camera lens. The man grabs it and stalks off, hurrying up off the beach and along the trail. The couple go too heading in the opposite direction, the woman clinging to her man’s side, pressing her fingertips to the reddening bruise on his cheek.Rei turns to Akai, standing stiff with his hand over his shoulder. A moment latter the sniper staggers backwards, knees folding. Rei grabs him, catches him around the waist and tugs him over to the softer soil beneath the tree cover. Akai’s breathing hard, deep, thin gasps that speak of pain. Rei shoves his jacket off, then pushes up his shirt. There’s no blood on the white bandage – yet – and no sign of internal bleeding beneath his creamy skin.Relief blossoms, the strength of it shocking. Rei lets out a sigh and leans forward, forehead resting against Akai’s good shoulder. “That was stupid,” he says, gritting the words out. “I could have handled it.”Akai catches him beneath the chin with his left hand and lifts his head so that they’re eye-to-eye. “Why should I let you take risks I won’t?”“Because you’re f@ck@ng injured,” snarls Rei, the swirl of relief/confusion/anger acute. “Because you came out here for no good reason to babysit me, when you should be mainlining morphine and watching Die Hard. Because you took a bullet for me, and I’m – nothing. To you.”His head dips as he pants, the sudden swell of anger passing. “You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t do this. You should have just let Gin kill me, rather than –”Akai leans up and kisses him. It’s not warm, not romantic. It’s hard and fierce and full of teeth. When they break away their lips are wet with saliva, their breath fogging in the air. “You seem so sure of what I want,” pants Akai, his voice raw-edged, pain bleeding in. “You talk about it like you know my heart. You don’t. Furuya-kun. What you see… what you see isn’t what I see.”“Which is?” demands Rei.Akai looks up at him, chin tucked in the tan-coloured scarf, hair falling in his eyes. “Someone who is dedicated, and determined, and talented. Someone beautiful, and dangerous. Someone who would die for his cause. Someone who almost did. Someone who doesn’t see any of those things right now, because when he looks in a mirror it’s not his face he sees staring back at him.”Rei shakes his head. “That’s not –”“It’s what I see,” says Akai, gently. “You don’t get to decide if it’s right or wrong. You don’t have to listen to me. You don’t have to let me stay. But Furuya-kun. Rei. If you want me to go, you’ll have to chase me out.”Rei sucks in a breath; it feels made of razors. “I never even thanked you. For Gin. For –”Akai lifts his hands from his chest, pulling down his shirt to hide the bandage. “I’m not dead. You’ll have the opportunity. Whenever you choose to exercise it.”Rei leans forward again, head pillowed against Akai’s shoulder. “You’re such an ass,” he says, voice muffled.Akai’s hand comes to rest over the nape of his neck, cradling him.It’s a long few minutes before they move.***They go back to the ryokan. Akai needs his pain meds, and realistically at this point, not to go on another hike. They pick up a meal on the way, eating it back in their room while watching mid-day television and drinking oolong.The afternoon is dedicated to hedonism. Rei makes Akai strip and lie naked while he sucks him off, fingering him gently throughout. Akai has never bottomed but occasionally he lets Rei do this, making small shivery sounds as Rei strokes inside him. When he’s done, he draws Akai up on his good side and pillows his head in his lap while the sniper returns the favour.They bathe in the onsen, returning only when they’re flushed and sweating; Rei pulls out the futons and they lie uncovered on the sheets and cool off while Rei drinks beer and Akai drinks more oolong. When their glasses are empty they roll together and kiss, long and languorous. Rei has never had the time or the interest in kissing for kissing’s sake. But lying in Akai’s bed, their bodies draped across each other, this closeness feels like the slow establishment of something. Reassurance, perhaps. Cementing the world-turn Rei experienced on the beach; anchoring Akai’s presence as something not only true but desirable.They lose almost an hour like that, the heat low but lasting. Eventually it becomes too much, the tease of so much tenderness, their bodies so close. Akai works him open with his fingers this time, slow and sensual, teasing Rei’s prostate until he’s close to tears. It feels like he’s mapping him out from the inside, learning every last millimetre of private flesh. Rei can’t come untouched and he feels dizzy with the intensity of his arousal, heartbeat pounding in his ears, c@ck a blinding ache. Akai, favouring his shoulder now, gets him up against the wall and f@cks him there, hard and desperate. Every slide of his c@ck makes Rei jerk, gasping with the sensation. He’s nothing but nerves, nothing but pleasure, wound so tight he’s trembling with it. It’s utterly overwhelming, base need so raw tears are pricking at his eyes as he draws his fingers against the wall.It feels like an eternity before Akai takes him in hand. Rei throws back his head and cries out with the relief, jerking his hips up into Akai’s palm. He comes like that, f@ck@ng Akai’s hand, face wet with sweat and tears. Akai finishes with his teeth set to Rei’s shoulder, hot and shuddering.Akai wipes him down afterwards and wraps him in a yukata; at Rei’s insistence, he also wipes down the wall. He disappears into the bathroom to wash and returns mellow and f@ck@d-out, eyes a little hazy. He pulls on his own robe and lies down, head in Rei’s lap. By the time Rei has put together a comment, he’s fallen asleep.Rei puts on the TV on low volume and sits there with Akai’s head heavy on his thigh. His hand falls on the sniper’s shoulder, but slowly he lets it skirt upwards to brush the shell of Akai’s ear before feathering through his silken hair. Ironic that of the two of them, the American is the one with black hair.Outside, twilight is falling. In the distance he hears an owl hooting, a low querulous call. The call of the night, shadows rippling, inviting. Somewhere familiar.In his lap, Akai’s snoring just softly, a gentle wheezing. He’s utterly relaxed, dark lashes flat against his cheek, one hand draped limply across his stomach. Utterly content; at peace. He’s expecting to wake up and have dinner together, to watch cable TV and go to sleep together, to drive back to Tokyo together tomorrow. And then what?
  I was a ghost, once. I can be a while longer.
Rei’s fingers, curled in the wavy hair at Akai’s temple, lie still against his skull. Akai has no power over him. No ability to compel his decisions. The things he offers are choices, nothing more. Choices Rei could turn his back on now, this moment. He could walk out the door into the night, join the owls and the ravens. Disappear, one shadow among many.Furuya Rei (零) could become Furuya Rei (霊).Outside the owl hoots again. A call; a question. In his lap Akai sighs, lashes fluttering for a moment.Rei lifts the remote, and turns the volume up a notch.Tomorrow they’ll pack their bags and go back to Tokyo. Rei will move into his new apartment. Maybe, Akai will join him. For a week, a month. For as long as it takes for him to look in the mirror and see a face he recognizes.And maybe, just maybe, for longer.END'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
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