Devastation

First in the Fire and Shadows series
scribblemoose

Tatsumi stood looking out of the window at the peak and valley skyline of war torn Tokyo, and let the sound of Tsuzuki's sobbing twist in his gut.

His fists clenched at his sides and his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried to keep the pain locked inside, unable not to listen, but silently longing for the crying from the next room to stop.

He felt as if he were about to break.

If he waited long enough, he reasoned, Tsuzuki would cry himself to sleep. Then, and only then, he could comfort him, sitting by him through the night, stroking the dark, messy hair from his closed eyes, watching him dream.

He'd spent so many nights that way over the past month that it was starting to show in the dark circles under his own eyes, the weary set of his shoulders. Some of his colleagues had already noticed, he was sure. No-one had said anything, but there had been brotherly pats to his shoulder and the appearance of unexpected cups of tea.

Of course, everyone knew that Tatsumi found Tsuzuki difficult as a partner. He was impulsive, scorned paperwork and ran up bills that made Tatsumi's frugal heart weep. Tsuzuki was generous, full of easy smiles and affection, while Tatsumi was reserved and serious. He had no idea why they'd been made partners. He'd known at the end of the first week that it wouldn't work. He needs a steady hand, was all Konoe would say. He's volatile, unpredictable. You'll be good for him.

Tatsumi had no idea why Konoe thought he'd be good for Tsuzuki. How could he, when he couldn't even be near his partner at times like this? When Tsuzuki was hurting and vulnerable and tortured, when he really needed someone, all Tatsumi could do was hide, terrified that if he saw those tears, or the brave smile, or listened to Tsuzuki's reassurance and denial, that he might let something go inside of him, that he might tell Tsuzuki how he felt, how he really felt underneath the distant disapproval.

And what good would that do? Add to Tsuzuki's burden yet another guilty demon, have him deal with the unrequited love of his partner? He could imagine the awkward, pitying smile Tsuzuki would give him at the news, the worried cast to his eyes as he recognised yet another man out to harass and pursue him. Whatever Tsuzuki needed, it wasn't another forlorn would-be lover. He needed friendship, a genuine, honest friendship that he could rely on, someone who could hold him without wanting him, who could listen to him cry without having to run from the pain.

He could never tell Tsuzuki how he felt. Never.

The crying had subsided a little now, the sobs less frequent, less violent, and the apartment was filled with a sense of stillness, of something almost like peace. Tatsumi forced himself to relax tight muscles, and turned away from the window. He knelt on the floor, and stared at the half-drunk cup of green tea waiting for him on the table.

Not long now. Not long until Tsuzuki fell asleep, and he could go and give his partner's sleeping self all the comfort his waking self needed.

The room was dark; the night quiet save for distant sirens. For now, the crisis had passed, the threat had diminished, leaving scant pause for grief and worry. Tatsumi had seen wars before, many, many wars, but none like this. And everyone said there was worse to come.

He finished his cold tea, and padded through to his bedroom. Slowly and methodically he took off his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them in a tidy pile on the floor. He untied his hair from its little tail, and raked his fingers through it to loosen the tightness of his scalp. He took out a green silk yukata and put it on, ignoring the caress of the cool fabric along his weary, aching arms and shoulders. He tied it firmly around his middle, and went to check on Tsuzuki.

He always called it that. Just checking on him. As if it were a fleeting thing, an item on an inventory, check, move on.

He knew he'd end up there all night, kneeling by Tsuzuki's resting body, watching him, enjoying the stolen pleasure of his company. Protecting him.

This night would be no different.

Tsuzuki had curled into a ball on his side, his knees hugged up tight towards his chest, one hand under his head, the other loosely fisted by his heart. The pillow was still damp from his tears, his cheeks still flushed from crying. He breathed through his mouth, slow puffs disturbing the long strands of hair that fell over his face.

Tatsumi settled himself on the floor by the futon, and waited a while, making absolutely sure that Tsuzuki was asleep before he dared touch him.

He looked so beautiful.

Tsuzuki hadn't properly undressed: he had just opened the neck of his shirt, lost his tie and jacket. He would wake uncomfortable and stifled in the oppressive summer heat, but Tatsumi didn't dare undress him. That would definitely cross a line that he was unwilling even to approach. The only contact he allowed himself was the soft caress of his fingers through Tsuzuki's silky hair, and that only now he was certain that his partner was asleep.

A noise outside stole his attention for a moment; the loud rumble and crash of falling masonry, another building brought to rubble and dust.

"Tatsumi-san?"

Tatsumi froze, his guilty fingers caught in the act of smoothing Tsuzuki's hair, his eyes locked on the dark rectangle of the window. He could feel the soft violet eyes on him, surprised, questioning. Shocked, even.

He slowly withdrew his hand, and looked down with a carefully-arranged smile on his face.

"Tatsumi-san." Tsuzuki's voice was thick from crying and slow from sleep.

"You were dreaming," lied Tatsumi. "I was worried."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

Tatsumi shrugged ambiguously.

"What time is it?" asked Tsuzuki.

"Just gone two."

"Is the air raid over?"

"For now. There haven't been any planes for over an hour."

"Good." Tsuzuki visibly relaxed, and turned onto his back, gazing at the ceiling. "They're still dying," he said, softly.

"Yes."

"So, so many."

"That's the way it is, with wars." He could see Tsuzuki's grief building, felt it with something like panic.

"I know, but this one's different. Doesn't it feel different to you?"

"Wars are wars." He didn't want to think about it himself, let alone discuss it with an already-vulnerable Tsuzuki. There was evil in the world like he'd never felt before, corrupting the hearts of men, bringing death and destruction on such a scale that the shinigami were all but overwhelmed.

So many lost lives. So many lost souls, freed too suddenly, too soon.

"It hurts," said Tsuzuki, his voice small, his lower lip trembling, violet eyes filling with fresh tears.

These aren't even his deaths, thought Tatsumi, and yet still they hurt him. Why? What happened to make his pain so terrible?

The thought ran deep, rendering Tatsumi silent for a moment, his throat suddenly constricted with a grief of his own, one that he couldn't possibly articulate.

Tsuzuki's eyes closed, forcing a cascade of tears past his lashes to streak his face.

Tsuzuki.

"Are you hungry?" Tatsumi choked out. "We have some pie that I've been saving."

Tsuzuki shook his head slowly from side to side.

"I there anything else, then? Tea? Or... anything?"

Tsuzuki's eyes opened, wet and bright. "Hold me, Tatsumi-san? I feel... I don't feel real, I'm numb, I... hold me?"

Tatsumi stared at him in horror.

"I'm sorry," said Tsuzuki quickly. "I apologise, Tatsumi-san, I have no right."

You're my partner. I'm supposed to keep you strong. You have every right.

He reached out stiffly, and Tsuzuki scrambled onto his knees and wrapped his arms around Tatsumi's neck, sinking gratefully into the awkward embrace.

Tatsumi let out a sigh that might have sounded like contentment, although in reality it was just that he'd been holding his breath so long he had no choice but to release it. Tatsumi was far from content. He was consumed with anxiety, panic and other feelings, base, urgent feelings that were nothing to do with his duty to Tsuzuki as his partner, and everything to do with the feel of Tsuzuki's warm, pliant body in his arms, the puff of breath by his ear, the sleep-musk scent of his hair.

His lips found the crown of Tsuzuki's head, and planted a single, trembling kiss there, without even thinking.

Tsuzuki tensed in surprise for a moment, but only a moment, before snuggling into Tatsumi's neck, and dropping a kiss on his warm skin in return.

Tatsumi held Tsuzuki tight, more from anxiety than affection, fighting the lust - and other feelings - that were surging in him. Terrifying him.

It would be wrong, he reasoned. Not because Tsuzuki was in any way innocent or naive; Tatsumi had been disabused of that notion the day he'd sprung a surprise stock check on the stationery cupboard and found Tsuzuki and one of his assistants doing some checking out of their own. He was fairly sure that it hadn't been an isolated incident either. Everyone wanted Tsuzuki, so surely he could take his pick.

It wouldn't be wrong because they were partners, even. Intimacy was tolerated, even approved of, it helped keep the shinigami concerned on the level, working well together. Many partnerships were sealed like this, in the warm refuge of each other's arms in the dark, still moments of the night.

It was wrong because it would cost too much.

He couldn't bear the thought of becoming just another of Tsuzuki's ardent admirers, of Tsuzuki stepping around him, kind and generous and completely closed off for fear of starting something he didn't want to finish.

He had nothing to offer Tsuzuki but a useless love he didn't want.

This was wrong.

"Tatsumi-san..."

A question, barely whispered. Tatsumi held his breath.

"It feels good, Tatsumi-san, to be in your arms."

Tatsumi's eyes closed slowly.

Isn't this what he was supposed to do? To make Tsuzuki feel good?

I'm here to make sure that you don't lose your mind. I'm here to save you. Will this save you? Distract you? Can I really do this and keep you from the truth?

He could feel Tsuzuki's heartbeat, strong against his chest.

Can this be right after all?

And then he was drawing back, just a little, he was cradling Tsuzuki's jaw in one broad hand, and gently tilting his head for kissing.

Their lips met, fluttered briefly together, and parted again.

They drew back, and looked at each other.

Tsuzuki tangled his fingers in the soft hair at the nape of Tatsumi's neck, and pulled him down to be properly kissed.

Tatsumi surrendered, parting his lips obediently to welcome Tsuzuki's questing tongue, and pushed Tsuzuki gently back down onto the futon. He shifted without breaking their kiss to kneel beside him, lowering Tsuzuki's head carefully onto the single pillow.

"Tatsumi..." murmured Tsuzuki, finally letting his partner up for air.

Tatsumi could barely think for the confusion in his mind and the roaring in his ears. He'd resisted this for so long, and now that it seemed inevitable, as though he were released from the burden of decision, he was overwhelmed. He wanted Tsuzuki so much, so deeply; just looking into his wide, trusting eyes was enough to make his breath come short and his whole body quiver.

He still had to ask the question, though. He daren't assume. He knew Tsuzuki's generous nature too well, he needed to be certain that he wanted this, if not as much as Tatsumi, then enough that it would do more good than harm.

"Tsuzuki, are you sure?" Tatsumi's voice cracked on Tsuzuki's name; he watched his round violet eyes carefully for an answer.

Tsuzuki's smile was broad and genuine. "Please," he said, with an enthusiasm usually reserved for second helpings of apple pie. "Oh, yes, please!"

Tatsumi couldn't help but smile back; Tsuzuki's open nature was contagious, and not a little charming. It was one of the things Tatsumi loved about him the most, and never wanted to change, for all the pain it caused. To be sure, when Tsuzuki felt anguish, it was there for all to share, but the same was true of his happiness, straightforward and bright as a child's.

Tatsumi felt the slow rub of Tsuzuki's fingertips on his scalp, a tug as he was pulled down for another kiss. He tightened his grip on the crisp cotton to Tsuzuki's starched, white shirt for just a moment, then relaxed and let Tsuzuki work his magic, his lips soft and warm, his tongue quick and agile, stroking along the sides of Tatsumi's own.

He started to undo the over-large shirt, pushing it back to reveal smooth, well-muscled shoulders and chest. He dragged his mouth from Tsuzuki's long enough to rid him of the garment all together, letting Tsuzuki loosen his yukata so that it fell open to the waist, and permitted access to Tsuzuki's questing fingers. They kissed again and settled to explore all this newly exposed skin, testing responses, soothing tickles and bringing special spots to life. He discovered that Tsuzuki had a ticklish belly, like a puppy, and that he could make him squirm and giggle with a teasing touch there; that a thumb brushed casually across Tsuzuki's nipple would make him moan and bring the tender flesh swiftly to a peak; that there was a place on Tsuzuki's neck, just below his ear, that, when kissed and gently sucked would render him boneless, melting helplessly into Tatsumi's body with a delicious sigh.

It seemed impossible, now, that this so nearly hadn't happened, that he could have had doubts. It felt so right, so good, so blessedly straightforward.

Tsuzuki was toying with the knot that held Tatsumi's yukata closed at the waist. He tensed; the soft silk was the only thing concealing his blatant arousal. Tsuzuki, meanwhile, still had trousers and, presumably, underwear to preserve his modesty. Tatsumi felt suddenly and unusually shy.

"You first," he gasped, brushing Tsuzuki's hand away.

Tsuzuki blushed in the most adorable way. He looked positively coy. "Me?" he asked, innocently.

"You're wearing more clothes than me," Tatsumi offered by way of explanation. "That's not fair."

"Oh. Okay." Tsuzuki made no move to change this state of affairs; he just lay there, toying with the edge of Tatsumi's yukata, an impish expression on his face.

"Um," said Tatsumi, distinctly bashful himself now it came down to it. He hadn't done anything like this for a while, certainly not in the three months of their partnership, or for a goodly while before, and he was distinctly out of practice. And nerve.

He took a deep breath, and reached out tentatively towards Tsuzuki's fly.

"Tatsumi-san?"

Tatsumi snatched his hand back guiltily.

Tsuzuki laughed, and Tatsumi found himself laughing with him.

"It's alright," said Tsuzuki. "I promise I won't change my mind."

Tatsumi was tempted to read more into those words than appeared on the surface, but forced himself to resist. It was enough, for now, that Tsuzuki was willing to have him in his bed, to let him comfort him and make him happy. To offer him something worth living for.

He reached out again, and this time deftly released the snap of Tsuzuki's trousers, carefully pulled the zip down, and slid his hand inside.

Tsuzuki gasped, his eyes hooded, head flung back on the pillow, as Tatsumi touched him for the first time. He traced the outline of the hard ridge of Tsuzuki's arousal through the soft cotton of his underwear: it felt wonderfully warm and eager, and if he had harboured any lingering doubts that this was what Tsuzuki wanted, they were swiftly banished. He leaned over and kissed Tsuzuki's trembling lips.

Tsuzuki groaned, lifted his hips to help Tatsumi relieve him of his clothing, too inspired by Tatsumi's touch and kisses to be shy any more.

"Is that good?" Tatsumi asked, stealing a look down Tsuzuki's body to watch himself stroking gently along the straining length of Tsuzuki's cock, arching elegantly towards his navel, just as beautiful as Tatsumi had imagined it.

"Fuck yes," gasped Tsuzuki. "Oh yes."

Tatsumi wrapped his fingers around it, and squeezed a little. It felt so good, warm and rock hard, it's silky outer sheath moving easily back and forth. Tatsumi swiped his thumb over the head, spreading moisture, and started to kiss his way down Tsuzuki's lean and trembling body.

He'd seen Tsuzuki naked before, or most of him, at any rate, in the showers, or at the hot springs. But he hadn't dared to pause and appreciate him before, not in front of the others, terrified he'd be accused of leering, and anyway Tsuzuki was harassed so often, he didn't want to add himself to the list. But he remembered the occasional glimpse of softly rounded buttocks and curve of spine, the sharp angles of shoulder blade and hip. He could hardly believe that that same form was spread out in front of him now, not by accident, not to tempt and torture him, but waiting to be loved and worshipped.

He darted his tongue into Tsuzuki's belly button, making him flinch and giggle; shifted a little so that Tsuzuki's cock rested against his cheek, silky-smooth and warm. Tsuzuki's fingers curled and tightened in Tatsumi's hair, and he dragged his lips along the length of Tsuzuki's shaft, nuzzling his nose in soft curls, flicking his tongue out here and there to taste.

There was a tug on his hair. He raised his head to find Tsuzuki's violet gaze on him, vivid and intense, a slight smile on his lips. There was a question in those eyes, but Tatsumi couldn't read it.

"Are you alright?" he asked, hoarsely.

Tsuzuki nodded. "Better than," he replied. "Good."

A warm, happy feeling spread through Tatsumi's chest. This would work. He could help Tsuzuki this way, he could make it all better. He really could.

Tsuzuki reached down and gently took off Tatsumi's glasses. Tatsumi blinked; his eyesight wasn't that bad, but he still felt odd without them, strangely naked and exposed, almost vulnerable.

"You have beautiful eyes," said Tsuzuki. "So blue. So kind."

Tatsumi swallowed. He didn't have words to repay the compliment; Tsuzuki's eyes were indescribable, not just because of their unusual colour, but because of the intensity of emotion they conveyed: everything was there from the darkest fear to the brightest hope, and Tsuzuki probably didn't even realise it.

He smiled, hoping it was enough, and kissed the head of Tsuzuki's cock. Tsuzuki closed his eyes, and laced his fingers through Tatsumi's hair once more. "Yes," he breathed. "Oh, yes."

Tatsumi licked him, more seriously now, running his tongue slowly from root to tip, swirling around the head before sweeping back to the root. It tasted good, warm and slightly salty, and it twitched against his lips.

He stroked Tsuzuki's thigh, and gently sucked the head of his cock into his mouth. Tsuzuki groaned, but his hands and hips were still, not forcing anything, leaving it to Tatsumi to choose how much he wanted to take in.

Tatsumi closed his eyes, and wrapped one hand firmly around the root. He hadn't done this for a long while, and Tsuzuki's cock wasn't small. He lowered his head until his lips touched his fist, and the tip of Tsuzuki's erection hit the back of his throat. He started to suck gently.

Tsuzuki gave a startled cry, and came, filling Tatsumi's mouth with a flood of warm semen. Tatsumi kept suckling, and swallowed all Tsuzuki had to give him.

Eventually Tsuzuki's cock started to soften, and Tatsumi let it fall from his lips with a final lick. He raised his eyes to meet Tsuzuki's; he looked mortified.

"I'm so sorry," he gasped. "I don't... I usually do better than that. It just felt so good I-"

"Shh." Tatsumi brushed a strand of hair out of Tsuzuki's eyes, curled his fingers around the curve of his head, behind one ear. "It's fine," he soothed. "There's plenty of time." As long as you want. Forever, if you'll have me.

Tsuzuki pulled him close and kissed him, apparently not minding his own taste in Tatsumi's mouth. "Thank you," he murmured, his hand whispering down Tatsumi's silk-covered back and returning to the knot that still held his yukata in place. "Can I?"

Tatsumi could only nod and shift to allow Tsuzuki access. The knot dissolved under his clever fingers, and Tatsumi found he was holding his breath as the soft fabric fell from his shoulders, and Tsuzuki's hand drew closer to his cock. His balls were throbbing, and he could no longer think, or even move; he wanted this so much, and yet could hardly believe it was happening. Tsuzuki's touch trailed over his thigh and hip and belly, until finally he wrapped his fingers around Tatsumi's heat and gently squeezed hello.

"Tsuzuki," he breathed, burying his face in his partner's neck.

Tsuzuki kissed his cheek, and started to tease his ear with his tongue, licking the ridges and furrows, sucking gently on the lobe. His hand began to move, slow and firm and perfect on Tatsumi's aching sex. It felt like heaven, and he could happily have relaxed completely and let Tsuzuki bring him release that way, but...

"Tatsumi..."

"Mm?"

"I want you."

Tatsumi growled deep in his throat.

"Tatsumi?"

"Are you sure?" He realised he was thrusting into Tsuzuki's loose fist, without even thinking about it, it just felt good, and right, and he didn't much want to stop.

"Yes."

But, oh, the idea of sinking inside Tsuzuki's exquisite body and taking him...

"We'll need-" he peppered Tsuzuki's face with kisses, his heart pounding with anticipation at what Tsuzuki had asked him, wanted him to do. "Something to make it... easier."

"I've got some oil," murmured Tsuzuki, kissing back, his cheeks flushed pink. "Over there, in the brown bag... was going to try on... noodles..."

Tatsumi had never before had cause to celebrate Tsuzuki's love of cooking, but at that moment he truly did. He dragged himself reluctantly away from his partner for long enough to retrieve the small glass bottle of sesame oil from the bag which nestled amidst the chaotic jumble of Tsuzuki's possessions in the corner of the room.

"This is good quality," he mused, crawling back onto the futon. "It's-"

"Too expensive?" said Tsuzuki, a twinkle in his eye.

"I was going to say it's too strong for noodles," said Tatsumi, a little reproachfully. "Ordinary vegetable oil would be better; this is good for salad dressing or..."

"Tsuzuki dressing," said Tsuzuki, with a giggle, rolling onto his front and wiggling his backside suggestively.

Tatsumi nearly dropped the bottle.

"Fuck," he said.

"What?" Tsuzuki shot a concerned look over his shoulder, dropping back onto his knees. Tatsumi hardly ever swore.

"Sorry," said Tatsumi. "You just look so..." There were no words. "Adorable," he said.

Tsuzuki smiled, and blushed. Adorably. "What you waiting for, then?" he teased.

Tatsumi smiled back, and smoothed a hand down Tsuzuki's spine, across the round buttocks, down his thighs. Tsuzuki leaned into the touch, raising his hips again to offer himself.

Tatsumi spread Tsuzuki's buttocks apart and slipped one trembling finger between them, stroking and very gently probing. He unstoppered the oil with his teeth and poured the precious liquid slowly to trickle from the base of Tsuzuki's spine to the pink pucker of his anus.

"Ooh, warm," Tsuzuki murmured.

"Good?" Tatsumi asked, spreading and swirling the oil around, worshipping Tsuzuki's flesh and relishing how freely it was being given to him.

"Oh yes," said Tsuzuki, and wriggled into Tatsumi's caress, pressing himself down onto his finger. It entered easily, slick with oil, and Tatsumi carefully twisted it all the way inside, listening to the long moan it wrung from Tsuzuki.

"More," Tsuzuki gasped. "Another. Please."

Tatsumi withdrew his finger and smoothed the oil around some more before he granted Tsuzuki's request and slid two fingers inside. He twisted around to find Tsuzuki's sweet spot, and flicked it.

"Oh. Fuck, oh..." Tsuzuki sank his teeth into the pillow, and clenched around Tatsumi's fingers.

"Enough?" Tatsumi drew his fingers slowly out, then pushed them back in, flicked again.

Tsuzuki mumbled incoherently into the pillow.

Tatsumi worked steadily, stretching and stroking, watching Tsuzuki writhe beautifully for him. He caught a drip of clear fluid from the end of Tsuzuki's cock, and tasted it. Sweet. Of course.

He took a palmful of oil and slicked his own cock, breath hissing in at the feel of it, at the anticipation of what was about to happen. He knelt behind Tsuzuki, curled over and kissed his spine. Tsuzuki raised his head from the pillow, pushed his hips back against Tatsumi's cock, oil dripping onto the comforter.

"Tell me, if it hurts," Tatsumi whispered in his ear. "I don't want to hurt you. Alright?"

"Yes," said Tsuzuki. "Now. Please."

Tatsumi lined himself up and pushed inside, just the head at first. It popped in easily, and he was about to give in to the strong desire to thrust all the way when Tsuzuki's stretched muscles clamped down on him; they both yelled, Tsuzuki in surprise, and Tatsumi with something halfway between pain and pleasure.

"I'm sorry," he cried, about to pull out altogether. "Sorry, don't want to hurt, don't..."

"Stay there," Tsuzuki said firmly. "Wait. It'll be alright. Just give me a while."

Tatsumi reached with trembling, oil-slick fingers to stroke Tsuzuki's hair. "Only a minute," he said. "I won't hurt you."

Slowly, Tsuzuki relaxed, and the vice-grip on Tatsumi's cock was released.

Tsuzuki sighed, and Tatsumi realised he was pushing back with his hips, impaling himself.

Oh. God. Oh.

He lightly guided Tsuzuki back with shaking hands on his hips, until he was completely buried inside him. So tight. So hot. So amazingly wonderful. His throat was tight, he choked back a sob and folded himself over Tsuzuki's back, wrapping his arms around his chest, kissing the tender skin at the nape of his neck, nuzzling under soft dark hair.

Tsuzuki. Oh, Tsuzuki.

He'd almost forgotten to move, until he felt Tsuzuki wriggling on him, reminding him. He found Tsuzuki's cock with one hand, giving him something to thrust into, and then pulled himself slowly back, 'til just the head of his cock was inside the slick heat of Tsuzuki's ass; he pushed back in slower still, and paused. Tsuzuki squeezed him; he started again, repeated it again and again, as slow as he could, out, in, squeeze, out, in, squeeze... he couldn't think; there was no room for anything in his head but the sheer bliss of Tsuzuki's willing body, he was oblivious to the soft cries that escaped his throat, or the salty tears that fell down his cheeks and dripped onto Tsuzuki's back.

In the end his intense desire and the astounding sensation of fucking this beautiful man conspired against him, and he knew it would be over too soon. He realised too late that he wanted to see Tsuzuki's face as he did this, that he wanted to kiss him as they came, that he wanted to drown in those violet eyes and show him he loved him, show him everything he felt but could never find words for.

But it was too late. Before he could articulate any of this, his balls were pulling tight up to his body, and the tension in his belly was growing, and then he could think of nothing, do nothing, except listen to his own pounding heartbeat and pump wave after wave of semen deep inside Tsuzuki's body.

He pressed his forehead against the knobbly ridges of Tsuzuki's spine, flicked out his tongue to taste the sweat-slick skin. His hand was sticky-wet with come, and he realised Tsuzuki was still spurting, thrusting into his palm with a series of loud grunts. He waited 'til the spurts faded to dribbles, and the thrusts to a gentle twitch, and his own breathing was somewhere close to normal, and then he collapsed onto the narrow futon, pulling Tsuzuki with him, spooning around his back still, kissing his neck and hair.

He tried to fight sleep, and failed. The long days and sleepless nights of the past few weeks finally caught up with him; too sated and content to resist, comfortably curled around Tsuzuki's warm, generous body, he drifted into slumber.

* * * * * * *

He woke no more than an hour later, and thought he heard Tsuzuki crying.

His heart filled with dread, while his mind tried to make sense of things. He remembered what had happened; his body was still content and sticky from the best sex of his life - or death. He was lying on the futon in Tsuzuki's room, his arms curled around... a pillow.

He was alone. Tsuzuki wasn't there.

Tatsumi opened his eyes, and saw Tsuzuki straight away, to his relief. He was sitting by the window, chin resting on his knees. He didn't seem to be crying, after all, but he didn't look very happy, either.

He'd been wrong. He hadn't made Tsuzuki happy at all. He'd made it worse.

"Tsuzuki?"

Tsuzuki didn't answer him. He just looked at him, with big, violet eyes full of pain and misery, and smiled a brave smile that speared pain through Tatsumi's heart.

"I'm sorry," whispered Tatsumi.

What did you expect? Tatsumi sneered at himself. You bring nothing but misery to everyone you love. Why did you expect Tsuzuki would be any different? Did you really think that one good fuck would put everything right? You put yourself first, let your own selfish love convince you that what you wanted was good for him.

You couldn't even look him in the eyes while you did it.

The smile wavered; Tsuzuki turned to the window. "No need," he said, sadly.

He wanted Tsuzuki to come back to bed, he wanted to hold him, comfort him, tell him he loved him, it would be alright. But he couldn't.

You bring nothing but misery to those you love.

"Do you ever think about dying, Tatsumi?"

"What?" Tatsumi reached for his yukata, shoved his arms down the sleeves.

"I mean, really dying. Forever."

Forever?

He turned his gaze swiftly on Tsuzuki, wishing he wasn't looking away, wanting to see what he was thinking, feeling.

"No. Never." He stood up, wrapped the robe around him and tied it; he was about to go to Tsuzuki, hold him, kiss him, stop him thinking such morbid, terrifying thoughts. But what if he were pushed away, unwanted? A memory of his mother sprang swiftly to his mind: get away, it's your fault, your fault I feel like this, your fault I can't cope, your fault, your fault, your fault...

"I long for it, sometimes," said Tsuzuki, softly. "I long for this to end. To stop taking lives, to give up mine, my afterlife instead of theirs, down there. Could I do that, do you think? Make a bargain with the devil, exchange my afterlife for - how many, do you think? What am I worth?"

"Stop it." Tatsumi was shaking, cold fear curling around his spine.

"It's my life, surely? My death? Shouldn't I be able to..."

"No, you.. no. No! Stop it, Tsuzuki!"

That's what it meant to him. He wants to die.

Tsuzuki shook himself, as if coming out of a dream. "Sorry," he said. "Don't know what came over me. It's this stupid war. You alright, Tatsumi?" He turned at last, apparently surprised and worried to see his partner standing there.

"Fine," Tatsumi forced out.

"Oh. You going back to your room?"

Tatsumi searched Tsuzuki's voice for any kind of hint of feeling, anything, a shred of disappointment, maybe, or desire... he couldn't see it. He wished, more than anything, that he was better at this, that he could read people, understand them better, that he could know what Tsuzuki was feeling.

He looked sad, and worried. Wretched. Certainly no happier than he had been before they made love.

He'd probably be fine in the morning. Back to his old self, complaining about work, begging for sweets. They would be back in Nagasaki by sunset, sheltered a little from the full ravage of war, the air raids rarer, the deaths fewer.

A shiver ran through him, for no reason.

And next time? Next time it all got too much, and Tsuzuki needed escape? Would this happen again? Soft kisses, a comfort fuck?

He couldn't do it. Tsuzuki meant too much to him for that. It hurt too much. It would all hurt so much more, now, he'd got so close, he'd confessed, at least to himself, how much he loved him. He'd never forget the closeness and warmth of Tsuzuki's body, the sweetness of his kisses, the gift he'd given him. Never. And next time Tsuzuki cried for the deaths of strangers, what would he do? How could he bear to see that pain in one he loved so much? How could he risk adding to it?

"Goodnight, Tsuzuki-san."

He made himself smile, refused to look Tsuzuki in the eye, not listening as he said goodbye, and went back to his room. He washed and dressed, and waited for dawn.

* * * * * * *

When Tsuzuki woke, a little before noon the following day, he sensed immediately that Tatsumi was gone. He started at the sight of GuShoShin sitting patiently by the door.
"GuShoShin? What's the matter? Where's Tatsumi? What time is it?"

"Tsuzuki-san, I'm sorry."

"Sorry? What for?"

"Tatsumi-san has requested that your partnership be dissolved. We're working on finding you a new partner, but meanwhile I will accompany you to Nagasaki."

Tsuzuki stared at the fluffy feathers that ringed GuShoShin's skinny legs, and tried to make sense of what he was hearing.

"I'm sorry, Tsuzuki-san. These things happen. Partnerships don't always work. We'll find someone better for you, I promise."

"Why?" Tsuzuki fixed his gaze on the half-empty bottle of sesame oil, recklessly unstoppered, abandoned on the mat.

"He said you weren't a good match. Is that right, Tsuzuki-san?"

"I thought we were okay," said Tsuzuki.

He looked bewildered, hurt. Devastated.

"Sometimes it's good for one partner, but for the other... Take heart, Tsuzuki-san. Get dressed, and we'll find breakfast together. You'll feel better then."

Tsuzuki wordlessly rose and dressed, and allowed GuShoShin to lead him out into the ruined city of Tokyo.

This is a gift for Babaca, with love. And thanks to Manon and Nekojita for encouraging me into a whole new fandom, and Gwen for beta-ing ^_^

Illustration by PL Nunn

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