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Peace, Love, and Understanding
By Dark Angel
 
 

The samurai walked through the trees slowly with silent steps, like a ghost recently expelled from its grave, leaving no trace of his passing. It was with some slight unease that he moved, trapped in the unfamiliar constraint of blue jeans, brown sweater, and leather motorcycle jacket that’s many zippers flashed and jingled in the dim light.  Like a grizzled old wolf he appeared, proud and wise with dark blue-green eyes flashing about warily, fierce but worn and tired of fighting.  The remembrance of arrogance was in the set of his broad shoulders, the once-cruel twist of his mouth was softened to something much gentler, and yet something remained of the Jackal in his features.  In silent testimony to his past a scar cried out in silence, the mark almost older than the memory of it, shaped like a cross on his face, but inverted, the tip rising high above his left eye.  He was unnerved by the life around him, he felt as if the spirits of the living things turned accusing eyes on him and damned him for everything he had killed without reason.  They would not, could not understand that it had been his past, that he was changed now … or if they did, they still would not forgive him.  The Jackal moved on, knowing that he deserved every bit of hate the living things unleashed upon him, huddling slightly against the onslaught, and then he tilted his head slightly to the side as he heard the soft, bubbling laughter of running water.  The warrior moved towards the sound of a waterfall, hoping to find solace in the bright water as it rushed over the stones . . . the soothing sound might allow for some modicum of peace.
Slipping through the trees, the warrior pushed aside the twigs that threatened to snag in the soft itchy wool of his sweater, the underbrush barely rustling against the press of blue-jeaned legs and heavily booted feet.  His mouth almost curved into a smile as he near-stumbled out of the forest and up to a stream, his eyes catching the flash of the water as it tumbled down over smooth, dark stones.  But then his eyes moved away from the water to the familiar figure next to the stream, and something tightened in his chest so ruthlessly that all of the air in his lungs was pushed out in a soft wheeze.
The young man knelt, momentarily unaware of the samurai’s presence, seeming to shine in a simple white kendo dogi, almost as bright as the gleaming blade of the no-dachi that lay on the soft green grass in front of him.  The old warrior had seen that pale, graceful form fierce in battle, moving as if in a dance…. But he had never seen him like this.  The young man was kneeling with his hands curled on lean thighs, golden-topped head slightly bowed in meditation or in prayer, the samurai was not sure which.
The peaceful, breathless moment was broken as the young warrior jerked his head upwards, the presence of the old samurai ripping across his psyche like an orange-brown comet.  He spun around and came to his feet all in one fluid, feline movement, Korin Ken seeming to vanish off of the grass and reappear in his slim, powerful hand, a faint light shimmering from the long blade and softly illuminating the young man’s fair features.  Blue-violet eyes were filled with surprise and some of the old apprehension as his gaze settled upon the ancient samurai, and the samurai took a step backwards towards the concealing comfort of the forest.  The trees cried out angrily with voices softer than the wind rustling through dead, dried up leaves, beseeching the young swordsman to take vengeance upon this bringer of death, whose hands still bore the stains of the blood he had spilled, no matter how many times he washed them.  Both men stood still, barely breathing,  eyes sharp and violet boring into deep sea green until the old warrior felt them touch his soul.  He held up his empty hands in supplication, as well as to show he bore no weapon, no malignant design on the swordsman’s life.  The tip of the glowing no-dachi dipped slightly toward the ground.
“Anubisu…” the young blond breathed, awe and wariness edging the astonishment in his voice.  He stared at the samurai in awe, never having actually seen him out of the Yami yoroi, but there was no mistaking the familiar presence that tickled on the edge of his mind, or those brilliant blue-green eyes.
“Seiji no Korin,” the old, dark-haired samurai replied, offering him a small, polite bow.  Seiji blinked, and then flipped Korin Ken easily in his hand, slipping the tip of the blade into the ground before bowing in response.
“It is good to see you again, Korin.”
“It is… interesting to see you again, Yami.  I have not seen you since…”
“The battle, yes.  How are the others?”
“Oh, they are all well.  We are all well.  It is nice to have peace again.  Umm… how are your… companions?”
“They are all fine.  Kayura is well, and Naaza and Rajura have been bickering less than usual…” Anubisu chuckled softly, and Seiji blinked, startled by the low, purring, pleasant sound.  “Now that the rebuilding of the Dynasty realm is complete, we all have time to relax."
“That explains your presence here…?”
“I suppose so… Kayura does not really approve of our coming to this realm, but sometimes we manage to slip away… I was drawn here, I do not know why…”
“Perhaps it was my armor… yours is it’s counterpart, you know that.”
“Yes…” Anubisu nodded slowly.  “I have been thinking about that often, of late…we compliment each other, you and I… for what is life without death?  Each is meaningless without the other…The light is blinding without darkness to temper it... and in darkness, with a total lack of light, again, you see nothing.  Many would consider my power evil, but death is neither good nor bad.  It just is.  I chose once to use my power for evil… but now that I am no longer misled, I can use it for good.”
Seiji blinked a second time, curling one hand around the no-dachi’s hilt and leaning against it slightly.  “You tell me this because…?”
“I fear retribution.  And I beg forgiveness.”
The swordsman’s feathery blonde brow arched upward, his one visible violet eye widening in surprise.  “Forgiveness?  From me?  What for?”
“You are the one I most hurt.  I know my wanton destruction of living things must have greatly disturbed you…”
Seiji’s lips tightened slightly, his eye narrowing for just a moment before he shrugged.  “Yes.”
“I am sorry.  I know that the living things will never forgive me, but I thought that perhaps you at least might…”  Anubisu shoved his dark-skinned hands into his pockets and took a step towards the blond swordsman.
Seiji cocked his head slightly to the side, regarding his former enemy thoughtfully.  “I think that I forgave you all when you attacked Arago… you were not truly evil, any of you, you had just been misled.”
 “The other MaSho and I, we were companions once, like you and your friends…. We were dearly close…But then our eyes became clouded by hate, and our hearts hardened by jealousy and greed.”  Anubisu sighed softly.  “We have tried to regain that same camaraderie, but knowing what we have done, and without Shuten Doji, it can never be the same… our talks are filled with long silences, and our laughter is always tinged with sadness… ah, Oni, if only we had seen when you did.”
Seiji bit his lip, releasing his grip on Korin Ken and letting his hand drop to his side.  He stared at his old enemy even as the Yami MaSho cast his sad gaze down at the ground, huddling in the protective depths of the leather jacket and bulky brown sweater.  The Jackal suddenly looked so lost and vulnerable, Seiji almost went to him and took his dark-skinned face in his own pale hands, perhaps to murmur gentle reassurances and perhaps to kiss the juncture of that cross-shaped scar.  But the blond swordsman held his ground, hands curled into half-fists against his lean white-clad thighs, fighting off the strange urge to comfort someone who had never been his friend.
Anubisu’s voice, when he spoke again, was very soft, almost so quiet that it did not reach the swordsman’s ears.  “Do you hate me, Seiji no Korin?  For what I did?”
Seiji bit his lip again, studying the older man carefully, thinking a long moment before he answered.  “No…”he murmured softly, and Anubisu lifted his eyes to look at him.  “No, you were only doing the will of your master.  I may have called it hate, what I felt at the time in my childish breast, but deep down inside myself, I never hated you.  I feared you, and I felt for you when I discovered you were human… I only realize all this now, as I am older, and no longer fighting… I have more time to think about it all.”
“As do I.”  Anubisu pulled his hand out of his pocket to run his dark fingers through his thick blue-black hair.
Seiji continued to stare at Anubisu a moment, frowning pensively, before he finally turned away from the samurai and resumed his kneeling position next to the waterfall.  Anubisu blinked and began to move towards the trees again, considering himself dismissed, and then Seiji’s gentle voice spoke again.
“Come and sit next to me.”
Anubisu hesitated just a moment, shoving his hands deeper into the leather jacket’s pockets and staring at the back of Seiji’s head, and then he moved forward and dropped to his knees beside him.  Together they looked out at the waterfall as it rushed over the ancient stones and fed the small stream, small fish and water bugs rushing around in a small reed-protected pool of calm just inches away from their knees.
The Jackal turned to look at Seiji questioningly, but the young man continued to stare out over the water and at the forest beyond.  Anubisu was a bit startled to find that he was glad he’d chosen to sit on Seiji’s left side, since he had a view of the young man’s face unobstructed by the fall of soft golden hair.  He had never had the chance to look at the possessor of the Korin yoroi so closely before, and now he took every opportunity to examine the swordsman as closely as possible, to commit his counterpart’s features to memory.
Seiji was handsome… no, he was beautiful, too effeminate in his features to truly be called handsome.  His eyes were large and framed with thick, dark eyelashes, and had now assumed a soft silver-gray color as he gazed off into the distance.  His nose was sharp, narrow and perfect, and turned up just slightly: it added to the youthful look that pervaded his features.  Seiji’s skin was flawless and pale, it looked as if it would be smooth and soft to the touch, and his mouth was innocently sensuous, with lips not too full or too thin, but achingly inviting.  His hair was silky and gold, too pale to be called honey-blond, and it gleamed softly in the sunlight.  The light loved him, it suited him, it turned his skin to milk and his hair to spun gold, and it made him glow with a soft, almost unnatural luminescence, until he looked more like a creature sent from Heaven than a young man in simple white clothing.  Anubisu turned to look at the surface of the water again, biting his lip and beating down the tide of warmth that suddenly rushed through him before the urge to take Seiji into his arms and kiss those sweet lips overcame him.
“Sh’ten was right,” he said quickly, needing to break the pregnant silence that stretched between them.   “I wish I had realized it when he told us… I wish I had realized it in the first place, so long before… it would have saved the world a lot of grief.  I feel like such a fool.”
“You are not a fool, Anubisu.  You were simply blinded by your loyalty.”  Seiji’s voice was soft, liquid warmth, and a shiver passed down Anubisu’s spine.
 “Before Arago… My name was Sasaki Kujuurou,” Anubisu said quietly.  He could feel the young man’s eyes on him as he continued to gaze into the water, watching a small gleaming fish dart about and snatch invisible things out of the cool, clear water.
“You want me to call you that, then?”
“If you wish… may I call you Seiji?”
“Of course… Kujuurou.”
They lapsed into silence once again.
The old samurai absorbed the tranquility of the stream, drawing his knees up to his chest and smiling faintly as he watched the sunlight sparkle off of the water.  Seiji watched him, fascinated, awed that this peaceful-looking man sitting next to him was the same person as the one who’d been his dreaded enemy not so many years before.  He could not imagine that lithe, powerfully muscular frame inside the Yami yoroi, that deep, warm voice speaking so cruelly, those sparkling, depthless blue-green eyes glaring out from the openings in the black and brown helm and promising death and pain.  That Jackal seemed someone else entirely, more a creature than a man, a bringer of death, while this next to him was alive and serene and completely human.
Anubisu reached out and traced the surface of the water with his fingertips, watching the ripples spread over the surface from his touch.  The fish and insects scurried away from him, simply in the fear they held for all things larger than they, and not from the terror of what he was.  And then he nearly fell into the water in shock as Seiji’s pale hand suddenly floated into his field of vision, passing like a ghost over his face to brush light fingertips across the cross-shaped scar.
“Before Arago?” the blond asked softly.  Anubisu swallowed and nodded, something catching in his throat.  Seiji smelled of bright metal and sandalwood, faint sakura, and something else, something more subtle and exotic.
“Yes,” he replied, his voice barely more than a breath.
“You were a samurai?”  Seiji was so close, Anubisu could feel his warm exhalation, could feel the movement of the young man’s lips against his cheek when the blond spoke.
“Yes,” he repeated, not daring to move.
“I wonder what it would have been like to live in that time,” Seiji mused, continuing to trace the lines of the scar with a touch as light as a moth’s wing.  “I wonder if Arago would have recruited me…”
Anubisu did not speak for a long moment, carefully regulating his thoughts so that he would not squeak or stammer when he spoke, working his tongue around in his suddenly dry mouth.  “He might have.  You are very strong.  I don’t think you’re as greedy and arrogant as we were, though… there might have been too much goodness in you.  Then again, those were different times.  Perhaps you would have been a different man.”
“Perhaps…” Seiji murmured.  He withdrew his hand and sat back slightly, but did not move very far away.  Anubisu could feel the warmth of his body, or imagined he could, through the bulk of the jacket and the itchy brown sweater.  Pressing his lips together and letting the corners of his mouth quirk downward, Anubisu slid his arms behind him and shrugged out of the leather jacket, letting the garment fall carelessly onto the ground.
“Are you warm?”  Seiji’s gentle voice washed over him as the young man leaned close enough that the white cloth covering his chest brushed against the brown sweater’s sleeve, the swordsman’s scent drifting once again across his senses.  Seiji's presence was a soft green in the Jackal’s consciousness, the heat of his body and his nearness intoxicating, and Anubisu found that he was very warm indeed.  Seiji was so young, so vibrant and alive, like a fresh young sapling thrust boldly out of the ground, green and trembling and new, daring to grow on barren land where nothing else would.  He took the old warrior’s hands in his, gently, rough calluses pressed against calluses, his hands as delicate and pale as starfish against the old warrior’s nut brown skin.  He was so warm, and gentle, the Halo hovered around him like a tangible aura, and the living things all around seemed to lean towards him, like green leaves turn to seek the sun.  And suddenly Anubisu wanted to taste him, to experience that life force, not to overwhelm it and extinguish it as he had when serving Arago, but to study and explore it with tender hands.  The Jackal turned to look at Halo, trying to read the expression in the swordsman’s one visible eye, and at the same time trying to still his own breathing… when had it assumed that quickened pace?  And when had his heart begun to thud against his ribcage so hard, as if it were trying to escape?
“We are the only ones who understand,” the blond whispered, looking deep into Anubisu’s eyes and noticing that they had changed from deep sea green to wolf blue.  “My companions and yours, we are the only ones who can understand what we have been through.  The others and I, we have tried to assume normal lives here, but we can never be the same.  We have been changed forever.”  Seiji pressed his lips together slightly and looked down at their hands.  He looked so fragile, thin and pale, with eyes like watercolor violets, but Anubisu knew the power and the strength that his slim frame possessed.
“Sometimes… I have nightmares.”  The admission was delivered in little more than a whisper, as if the possessor of the Korin yoroi was embarrassed.
“I have nightmares, too,” said Anubisu, and he could not help but chuckle softly when that sharp violet gaze was fixed on him once again, thin golden brows lofted.  “You look so surprised… the Yami MaSho cannot have nightmares?  When Arago was my master, I did not dream often… but I had many nightmares.  And I have nightmares now, about fighting you, and about all the things I needlessly killed… plants, animals, people… things that I enjoyed killing…”
Seiji blinked, and then looked down at their hands again, a faint blush tingeing the pale skin of his cheeks a faint rose.  “I more considered you the subject of nightmares… I never thought that I could be as well.”
“Everyone has their own demons, and sometimes those demons bear pretty faces.  The demons of dark creatures are beings of light…”
“Am I still your demon?” Seiji’s words were as soft as the breath of the wind, and the expression on his pale, lovely face was inscrutable.
“You still haunt me, yes.  But we are all haunted men, each and every one of us.  The ghosts of our past will never go away.  I suppose I still haunt you, too.”
Seiji looked out at the water before he nodded once, slowly.  Anubisu heaved a soft sigh and ran his hand over the back of his neck, frowning.  “I wish I could say that we could just put it all behind us, but that just isn’t possible.  We have to live with what we have done… the other MaSho and I have to live with the sins we committed.  We have dreams, mostly, the nightmares are few these days… we dream of perhaps coming to this realm and trying to live out a normal life among the people of this world… perhaps even ‘settling down’ and starting families… but they are simply dreams.  No one in this world can understand what we have gone through… no one but us.”  He turned to look at Seiji again, his eyes deepened back to the fathomless deep greenish blue, the depths of them swirling with an almost hypnotic warmth.  “Us, and you.”
Seiji blinked, and then nodded a second time.  “Ryo, Touma, Shuu, Shin and I have had the same dreams, I think.  We never actually said it to each other, but I think that we all know that it’s just not going to happen.  We kind of started to shun the outside word, and we even…”  The blond swordsman trailed off and looked out at the water again, quickly, a faint blush spreading once again across the smooth, pale surface of his cheeks.
“Took solace in each other’s arms?” Anubisu queried gently.  Seiji nodded, surprised at himself for revealing so much to his former enemy.  It must have been their armor’s connection; he could feel the Korin yoroi’s power humming softly throughout him, almost seeming like a content purr, as if it approved of the strange bonding going on between himself and the Yami.  He did not know if it was just a sensation in his mind, or in his heart, or from the mystical bond he shared with his counterpart, but he felt very close to his old enemy… he felt almost as if he could tell the ancient samurai anything.  His emotions lurched within him, suddenly wanting to spill forth, thoughts and feelings and memories that he hadn’t even shared with his warrior friends, and he had to fight hard to repress them.  Anubisu seemed to sense his inner turmoil, the warrior had asked little of him during their conversation, and he now remained silent as he reached out to lay a large hand on Seiji’s white clad shoulder in something akin to a caress.  Seiji unconsciously leaned toward him, exhaling a deep breath that he had not known he’d been holding.
“Seiji…” Anubisu murmured, leaning closer to him.
“Anu…. Kujuurou…”  The young swordsman turned to look at him.  They were exact opposites, all the way down to their build and coloring.  Anubisu was dark-skinned, with blue-black hair and dark eyes, solidly built where Seiji was slender, broad-shouldered with rock hard muscles that were apparent even through the thick fabric of his sweater, and were even more visible beneath the denim of his worn blue jeans that fit him almost as snugly as a second skin.  He was handsome, but almost ruggedly so, thick dark brows almost overshadowing his narrow, wolfish eyes, strong-jawed with a sensual, almost cruel mouth, a slight cleft accentuating the proud jut of his chin.  His scar only served to make him look more fierce, and he would always look fierce, no matter how gentle his eyes were… how gently they were looking at Seiji now.  The young warrior couldn’t help but gasp when the Yami’s dark-skinned hand brushed against his cheek, his flesh startlingly warm, strong fingers tangling in Seiji’s soft blond hair to push it upwards and out of his eyes.
“I am old, but you are wise.  Perhaps there are things you can teach me,” Anubisu breathed, staring deep into Seiji’s blue-violet eyes.  The young man stirred, his garments rustling as he moved, edging closer to the old samurai until a warm, white-clad thigh pressed against an equally warm jean-clad one.
“You have lived over a million lifetimes,” Seiji replied, tracing his fingertips lightly along the line of Anubisu’s jaw.  “What could I possibly teach you?”
“The time in the dark realm seemed but a few years to us,” the Jackal said, shrugging one shoulder dismissively.  “ And you could teach me love, Seiji.”  Anubisu leaned closer to him, his breath warm on the blond’s skin.  “I have dwelled so long in darkness….  You could show me the Light.”
“Kujuurou…”
“Say it again.”
“Oh, Kujuurou…”
Anubisu closed his glittering eyes and exhaled softly, running his fingers through the soft golden silk of Seiji’s hair.  “It has been so long since someone has called me that… I love the way you say my name, Seiji.”
“And I love the way you say mine…”  Seiji leaned closer to him, eyelids slipping lower over pale blue-violet, velvet smooth lips trembling against Anubisu’s mouth.  The Jackal made a noise deep in his throat and let his head dip forward, his lips meeting the Halo’s in a tender kiss.  Seiji continued to let his fingertips float across Anubisu’s jaw, his other hand rising to press against the bigger man’s chest.  Anubisu kissed him slightly more deeply, tongue-tip tracing the soft curve of Seiji’s bottom lip as he tangled both hands in the swordsman’s soft hair.  Seiji trembled and moaned softly, parting his lips so that he could dart his own tongue out to meet his old enemy’s.  Anubisu let one hand slide down the pale column of Seiji’s neck, pushing aside the pristine fabric of the swordsman’s dogi to caress the smooth skin of his shoulder. Seiji’s hips twisted, one lean leg sliding forward to rest on top of Anubisu’s denim-clad thighs, and Anubisu dropped his hands to curl his fingers around the blond’s waist and draw him into his lap.  Seiji moved to straddle him willingly, never breaking the contact of lips on lips as he twined his tongue around Anubisu’s.  The young swordsman tasted of Springtime to Anubisu, sweet scent-laiden breezes and flower nectar and birdsong.  The old swordsman tasted of Autumn to Seiji, freshly harvested loamy earth and nuts roasted over the comforting warmth of bonfire and the cry of birds in migration.  Seiji’s hand slid down Anubisu’s throat, callused fingertips strangely smooth against the dark, sensitive skin, and then he ran both hands over the front of the sweater, feeling the Yami’s powerful muscles through the thick, soft brown-dyed wool that covered his torso.  They continued to kiss as Anubisu freed Seiji’s other shoulder from the confines of his white garments, and then the dark-skinned soldier finally broke the contact, leaving Seiji to gasp in the afternoon air as he dipped his head forward to brush his lips across the smooth, pale skin of the young blond’s shoulder.
“Kuj… Kujuurou…” Seiji panted and clung to the older man, his wide eyes staring up at the sky in awe.  He tilted his head to the side willingly and pressed his body against the other’s as Anubisu trailed a series of hot kisses up the side of his neck, each one sending a shockwave through Seiji’s body and eliciting heat from his groin.  Anubisu tugged on the white cloth and Seiji dropped his arms to his sides, his slim, muscular body slipping easily out of the dogi and leaving it to puddle uselessly around his slim waist.  The swordsman pushed insistently at Anubisu’s brown sweater and the Jackal chuckled softly, tangling his strong fingers around the hem of it and jerking it swiftly upwards over his head, then he tossed it aside.  Seiji brushed his fingertips lightly over Anubisu’s powerful torso, tracing the planes of muscle with a loving touch, leaning forward to kiss the hollow of the older man’s throat before he slid further into his lap, strong thighs clasping around Anubisu’s waist as Seiji pressed his slender body against him.  Anubisu buried his face in Seiji’s throat and inhaled the scent of his hair.
“Did you ever imagine this?” he murmured softly, his breath warm on the blond’s skin.
Seiji started to shake his head and then stopped as he realized he secretly had thought about it, wondering about the play of light against dark, and how their bodies would twine and essences intermingle, seduced by the mystery of his enemy’s dark power and the gleam of those wolf-fierce eyes.  He shivered, trembling like a new leaf in a spring breeze, and whispered, “Yes, I did.”
“I did as well… you were… are so beautiful…”  Anubisu kissed Seiji’s shoulder softly, and then he placed another warm kiss on the skin just behind the delicate shell of Seiji’s ear, soft blonde hair tickling his nose.
Seiji wrinkled his nose slightly, splaying his fingers across the warm skin of Anubisu’s back.  “Is that all that attracted you to me?”
“No, not at all, Seiji…”  Anubisu sounded slightly offended as he nuzzled the side of Seiji’s neck.  “You were beautiful, yes, and you shone like a star… but you were so powerful.  You always ended up besting me, or at least our battles would end in a draw.  You were strong, and fierce, but still gentle somehow… I could feel you mourn for each and every thing that I killed.  At the time, I considered it weakness, but I still thought of you while I was alone, away from the others and the suffocating presence of Arago’s mind, when night fell like a blessing upon the Dynasty.  I secretly wished that I had that ability to care, and that I could somehow get you to care for me… oh, such thoughts were traitorous indeed.  I would scoff and tell the others that I simply wanted to dominate you, when they lay with me and sensed your presence always at the back of my mind… but I knew that it was not true.  Perhaps I wanted then the same thing that I want now… for you to cleanse me of my sins, and heal my war-torn soul.”
Seiji bit his lip, sliding his palms slowly up and down Anubisu’s back.  “I do not know if I can do all that… but I will see what I can do.”
“You have already accepted me into your embrace, Seiji no Korin.  It is a step, a large step, in the right direction.  I never imagined that I would ever get even this far.”
“You have gone this far,” Seiji murmured, pulling away from him slightly.  “And you will go further…”  He placed his hands on Anubisu’s shoulders before the old samurai could say another word, pushing him gently backwards.  Anubisu gave him a stunned look for a moment before he complied with the blond’s wishes, stomach muscles twitching beneath his skin as he leaned back slowly, and then came to rest in the soft green grass.
Seiji leaned forward to kiss him as his hands moved down from Anubisu’s shoulders, his touch flitting feather-light over Anubisu’s nipples.  The Yami moaned softly into Seiji’s mouth, his body arching towards the young man’s sweet caress.  Seiji kissed him more deeply, his tongue exploring the warm cavern of Anubisu’s mouth as he rocked his hips against the other’s softly, drawing more moans from Anubisu’s throat.  The older man pressed his hands against the small of Seiji’s back and pressed him harder against him, a shuddering sigh working its way from between their lips just before the blond pulled away, his breath coming in short, panting gasps.
“Seiji?” Anubisu whispered, a question mingling with the naked desire in his eyes, flowing into the swordsman’s mind through the tentative mental bond their armors had forged between them.
“Yes.”  Seiji breathed in response.  “Yes, Kujuurou.”
Anubisu smiled and pulled the young man down towards him again, tilting his head up slightly to claim Seiji’s in a tender, passionate kiss.  The last of their clothing vanished quickly, torn away by two pairs of hands, one pale-skinned and one dark-skinned, both sharing the same impatience.
 They tangled together, darkness and light entwined, the yin and the yang, cool twilight hovering in the air between them.  The waterfall played softly nearby, water splashing on the breasts of bare rocks, the forest rustled and hummed with life, and the sun swung across the sky, the clouds turning crimson and scarlet and gold as night raised its bluish-purple head on the eastern horizon, stars winking into being.  They noticed none of it, the two men beside the stream: Time stood still for them.  Warm breath mingled between them, smooth muscles sliding under sleek skin as their pressed together, fitting so perfectly against each other like two pieces of the same puzzle, one smelling of the gentle newness of spring and growing things, and the other smelling of the musky-sweet scent of decay.  The air around them was hushed, the forest still, as if the animals and plants huddled in silence in deference to them.  The only sound besides the gentle song of the water was their own breathing, like the soft rustle of wings, the raven’s and the dove’s, two hearts beating in time, two parts of the one glorious whole.  Breath quickened, muscles became taut as their bodies arched, the rising moon glittering on the sheen of sweat that had come over lily white and cinnamon brown skin.  Spirit tangled in the air around them, above them, the dazzling light of Halo and the Darkness, glowing with a beautiful un-light of its own, casting unnatural luminescence over their entangled forms.  Seiji cried out softly, and Anubisu answered him, the boundaries shattering for just a moment as they poured into each other, their essences bleeding into each other, light and darkness combining until they were One.  Their bodies were rigid, still as stones as they flowed one into the other, and then the contact was shattered as Seiji collapsed onto Anubisu, his chest heaving as he hitched for breath.  Their Spirit withdrew into their own bodies once again, but left some of its presence imprinted upon the other’s soul, filling a void that neither had ever known was there.  Anubisu stroked Seiji’s soft, sweat-damp hair, murmuring soft Words that neither could understand as he stared up at the stars sparkling like bright gems against the velvet backdrop of the sky, unaware of the tears that trickled down his sun-browned cheeks.  Seiji kissed his smooth brown skin, feeling damp against his lips and tasting salt.  He blinked.
“You are crying…” he cried out softly, before a glistening drop of moisture fell softly onto Anubisu’s skin.  With a start, Seiji realized that the teardrop had been his own.
“Something has happened,” Anubisu whispered, pulling his blue-green eyes away from the sky to meet the blond’s startled gaze.  “Can you feel it?”
“Yes… but I don’t understand it…”
“Nor do I.  Shhh… perhaps we aren’t supposed to.  All I care about is that I am here with you… and I am at peace for once.”
“You are?”  Seiji touched Anubisu’s cheek.
“Yes.”
Seiji dropped his head to nestle himself against the broad expanse of Anubisu’s chest, his cheek on the old samurai’s throat feeling the pulse of life through his veins.  He felt inexplicably peaceful as well, his limbs filled with languor, but the peace itself did not stem from the sleepy feeling that tugged his eyelids slowly down over his eyes.  It was as if the thing he sought so much in sleep, prayer, and meditation, what would calm the fearful rattle of his soul after all of the battles he’d fought in the Korin yoroi, had finally come to him within his old enemy’s embrace.  Nuzzling his face against Anubisu’s neck and shoulder, he brushed his fingertips lightly over the samurai’s chest and smiled when the older man heaved a deep, contented sigh.  “Sleep,” the blond commanded softly.
“Yes, sleep… we will discuss this in the morning…”  Anubisu wrapped his arms lightly around Seiji’s torso.  Suddenly he chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and against the young swordsman’s ribcage.
Seiji blinked, the corners of his mouth twitching into a slight frown.  “What’s so funny?”
“What will your friends think?”
The blond blinked again, and then laughed lightly, pressing a kiss against Anubisu’s shoulder before yawning lazily.  “Do we really care?”
Anubisu chuckled again, closing his eyes.  “No.”
“Then go to sleep.”
High above, the moon’s pale face smiled upon them as it slowly swung through the sky, the stars sparking with laughter.  Soft movements resumed in the forest as the two men dropped off into slumber, for once, simply men and nothing else.  The only indication that they were anything else was the soft aura that glowed around them, hazy gray-purple twilight, the illumination of light and darkness combined.  The two men would never be the same.