Yaoi Challenge 2007

yaoi_challenge @ 2008-10-24T15:41:00

2008-10-24T20:42:13Z

hi i'm new and love inu sesshy yaio

Blood Brothers - FFVII AU (Zack/Cloud)

2008-10-24T05:49:07Z

Well, it's two months overdue, but I'm finally finished my claim for the Choose your own adventure mega epic challenge! *waves banner* I had a ton of fun with this and am very pleased with how it turned out - I hope everyone else enjoys it as well!

Title: Blood Brothers
Author: cleflink
Fandom/Pairing: Final Fantasy VII AU - Zack/Cloud
Warnings: Averages PG. Specific warnings posted for each part
Word count: 36,155

Summary: Fantasy AU. Zack and Cloud are blood brothers - two souls bonded by onefate. But what happens when one brother is lost and the other has tosacrifice everything he is to try and save him?

Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V

The Road Towards Kamakura, part VII (Weiss Kreuz, Nagi/Mamoru)

2008-09-01T09:45:08Z

The Road Towards Kamakura, part VI (Weiss Kreuz, Nagi/Mamoru)

2008-09-01T09:43:29Z

Title: The Road Towards Kamakura
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairings: Nagi/Mamoru, Crawford/Schuldig, Mamoru/OFC, Nagi/OFC
Rating: R
Summary: In exile in a distant and unimportant post for his family's crimes, Mamoru builds himself a new life.
Word Count: 61000 words.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to toscas_kiss for beta-reading, and to puddingcat, for her wonderful illustrations! This is a sequel to Sailing to Hirugashima, a science-fiction AU in a space-opera setting. Like that story, it takes its title from place names important to the founding of the Kamakura shogunate.
Sections: I; II; III; IV; V; VI; VII

"When you see Schuldig," Nagi said, two mornings later, "Say nothing. Don't give him a reaction."

Mamoru nodded. The Psi-Corps officers had not been in evidence, for which he was grateful, but it seemed this was not a state of affairs that could last. He and Nagi stopped at the door of the room in which he'd asked breakfast to be laid ready; Mamoru was glad for Nagi's warning. Crawford sat, neatly dressed in Alliance clothing, sipping the local coffee as if he no longer found it distasteful. Schuldig was suspiciously examining the baked fish on his plate, as if it might suddenly attack him. He was wearing a coat of the most hideous cut and bright-green colour Mamoru had ever seen. His unruly hair was tied back with a piece of clashing yellow cloth.

"Look at this bastard," Schuldig said, thrusting his plate under Crawford's nose for inspection.

"Delightful," Crawford said, looking not at the fish, but up at Schuldig's face. He reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. The plate dipped, dangerously close to spilling its contents on the floor as Schuldig leaned down into Crawford's touch, his face for once clear of any spite or malice.

Mamoru ignored them and went in to take a fish for his own breakfast.

"These are local," he said, as if he were unable to see the Psi-Corps officers reluctantly separating to sit placidly side-by-side as if they had never engaged in such inappropriate behaviour. "They have a stronger flavour than the tank-bred fish so commonly available. They are perhaps an acquired taste – would you prefer something milder?"

Schuldig ate some of the fish at once, as if to prove he was not intimidated by anything, even something uglier than his current clothing. "I've had worse," he said. "This coffee, for example. I know you have plenty of tea."

Mamoru said nothing, just smiled absently and drank his own coffee. He was inured to it by now, and had taken some small, spiteful pleasure in telling the kitchens not to provide tea this morning. "I hope you are both well today," he said.

"Thank you, yes," Crawford said.

"While you've both been enjoying married life," Schuldig said with a leer, "We've been sightseeing."

"Sightseeing?" Mamoru said, annoyed he had given Schuldig some of the reaction he was looking for. "On Alcmene? What is there to see?"

"We looked around the city," Crawford said. "There was some interesting architecture."

"And we were thinking of going to look at this famous dam that keeps getting mentioned on the news broadcasts," Schuldig said. "We couldn't get convenient transport, though."

"It's probably more interesting in reports," Nagi said. "It's just a dam."

"Nagi," Schuldig said sorrowfully, "You're forgetting your training. Anything that provides hydro-electrical power for a growing city like this is more than just a dam. It's a viable target." He smiled sweetly. "Ah well, at least I bought some souvenirs. This cloth is locally produced, did you know?" He fingered the sleeve of his coat happily.

"When does the ship leave?" Mamoru said, his mind filled with sudden horrible visions of Schuldig in his hideous new outfit, happily setting explosives on the dam.

"It will be another week," Crawford said. "There are many things we would like to discuss with Nagi, if his schedule allows."

"Yes," Nagi said.

They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence.

For days thereafter, Nagi seemed distracted. Mamoru heard him at times, voice raised in fervent argument with Crawford and Schuldig, their conversation stopping at odd moments as if some things could not be said aloud. When he met them, Crawford and Schuldig were polite, which unnerved him as much as their original hostility had. Something was building, he thought, seeing Nagi become more and more withdrawn in his speech and more and more desperate for affection in the moments they could snatch together. It was a relief to at last have Crawford ask if they might all discuss something together.

"Takatori-sama," he said with quiet assurance, "You are a fair man, I think. You don't make distinctions amongst your staff based on their ethnic background, you preserve your concubine's status now you are married –" He politely ignored the look of irritation Mamoru shot Nagi's way. " – you treat Nagi no differently from people who are not in the Corps."

"I try not to be biased or prejudiced," Mamoru said with caution.

"If you were back in the Empire," Crawford said, "Nagi might be transferred away from you, assigned to who knows where. Would that be fair to either of you?"

"One must do one's duty," Mamoru said. He quailed at the thought of losing Nagi – he had a terrible suspicion that next Crawford would triumphantly say the stain upon his family was gone, and he could return home alone. He wouldn't do it, he thought, not if it meant giving Nagi up.

"He wouldn't be able to say no," Crawford said. "He couldn't leave the Corps. He's been an active field agent for almost ten years – since he was thirteen, Takatori-sama – and he never signed up for any of it. Just by being born, we were all consigned to an entire lifetime of membership. Do you think that's fair?"

"I don't know," Mamoru said. "The government must think so. Don't think I don't know Nagi was put on active service so young because of you, Captain. I know it was due to your advice and influence he was sent to your team rather than be kept in safety to finish his training with others his age."

"Safety?" Schuldig said. "There's a lot more Nagi could tell you, it seems. If it wasn't for us, he wouldn't be the person you know. You wouldn't much like the person he would be if he'd spent another few years in the training schools."

"That's possible," Mamoru said evenly. "I don't much like you."

"How brave you've become," Schuldig said quietly. "Anyone would think you were a real person of influence rather than the pathetic exile you are."

Nagi reached out and took Mamoru's hand, squeezing it in warning. "Schuldig," he said. "You are insulting my friend."

"They're doing it again," Schuldig said in disgust to Crawford. "That together-we're-stronger thing."

"It's love," Mamoru said. "I'm truly sorry you've never –"

He didn't see Schuldig move, but he was no longer kneeling opposite Nagi but rather standing over Mamoru, his hand on his throat. "You owe us," Schuldig said viciously. "We kept Nagi more or less human, we put in a good report for you, we got you more money – don't look so surprised, who did you think did it? – we stopped Nakagawa weaseling out of his deal with you. You owe us."

"Schuldig!" Nagi and Crawford yelled together.

Mamoru blinked as Schuldig stepped back. Nagi had only just started to move, he saw, and with some fear realized the last seconds had passed in a split-second, Schuldig's outburst poured directly into his mind.

"You were forgetting to be afraid of what I can do," Schuldig said, with a mocking bow. He went back to his place, sleekly satisfied.

"I'm sorry," Nagi whispered, seizing his arm. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Mamoru said. "Yes," he repeated more strongly.

"Touch him again and I will forget every bond we share," Nagi said. "Have you forgotten to be afraid of what I can do?"

"That won't be necessary, Nagi," Crawford said. "Please accept my apologies, Takatori-sama, Schuldig can be rash."

"He may have negated the effects of the other incidents of carefully-planned 'rashness' you have brought to Nagi's attention, Captain Crawford," Mamoru said, glad Nagi still had a hand on his arm, warm and comforting. "All your efforts to influence us towards something, and Schuldig loses his temper at the wrong moment. How irritating for you." Crawford's face didn't change, but Mamoru felt sure he had scored against the man.

"Ambassador Takatori," he said. "Your friendship is precarious, whether you admit it or not. You want your family to go home, if not in your lifetime, then in your sons' or grandsons'. Let us suppose you go home tomorrow, or in fifty years – in either case, you lose Nagi. He doesn't get to retire, he's the property of the state. Even as an old man, the state could find some use for him. We are also the property of the state. You have hope of change, we do not. You have a family, we do not. Attempts to have family are seen as useless – why not? It's been shown over and again that our abilities do not occur in our children. So we're no good as breeding stock, and therefore the stubborn efforts of some officers to act like normal people is clearly willful disobedience to be discouraged. We're not normal people, we're assets."

"Nagi's not an asset," Mamoru said. "Not to me."

"If you could help change things so he'd be free, would you?" Crawford said. "So he could serve out a term of service and then never have to worry about being sent away from you?"

"Of course, but he won't be," Mamoru said. "No one will call me home."

"Maybe he'd like people like Nagi to be free, but those like you and I could be state property forever," Schuldig said. "We're not imperials."

"I don't care what anyone is," Mamoru snapped. "What's the point of this discussion? I can't change anything, and even if I could I don't understand what it is you want."

"I want to be free," Crawford said. "I'm a slave, Ambassador Takatori. Schuldig is. Nagi is, though he has allowed himself forget it here. I would like to be allowed to forget it. When I was old enough to ask to have corrective surgery for my eyesight, I was told it was an unnecessary expense for someone like me and I could continue wearing the glasses. The trainers found it amusing; I'd like to forget I was seen as mildly defective equipment asking to be repaired, rather than a person needing medical aid."

"I'm sure you could have it done here," Mamoru said in annoyance. "I'll pay."

"I've made it a point to keep the glasses," Crawford said with odd, prickly pride. "More importantly, I would like not to have to worry I could be assigned apart from Schuldig at any moment. It's not likely to happen, but it could, and neither of us could do anything about it."

"Are you asking if you could somehow be assigned here?" Mamoru said, trying to keep the horror from his voice. They'd cause havoc. They'd terrorise the staff and sow discord everywhere they went. They probably would blow up the damn dam. "I can't see any way you could be – and you wouldn't like it here, there really is nothing to do. I'm sure Nagi has complained to you of how depressed that can make me."

They looked a little amused, as if his thoughts were clear to everyone, not just Schuldig. "No, that's not what we want," Schuldig said. "Just listen – you don't hate non-imperials, do you?" He grinned as Mamoru shook his head. "Apart from me, anyway. But you can't deny that things are set up to favour you over us – it's easier to get promotions, bankloans, everything if you're an imperial."

"I didn't set up society the way it is," Mamoru said.

"Who said you did? The Psi-Corps – there are so few of us, relatively speaking, that none of that holds true. It's one of the few places you can move up purely because of what you can do, not because of your background, or at least it is when it's being used to its full extent. Which, I'm sorry, doesn't usually include farming off an officer to sit on his ass doing nothing amongst the barbarians. We've been at peace for years; trade's built up, everyone's so keen on cultural understanding and international harmony – we're facing a situation where it's no longer treasonous to own uncensored Alliance media, it's not as difficult to get visas for academic travel. Before you know it, there won't be the same need for us, and that will mean business as usual: people like us –" he gestured between himself and Crawford " – never getting preference, people like Nagi sitting pretty."

"Ah," Mamoru said. "So for your own self-interest, you'd like there to be more repression?"

"What the Alliance would allege is repression," Nagi said primly.

"Personally, I think the Alliance's religions should be legalized," Schuldig said. "The trouble that would cause would keep the Corps ticking along nicely. That or a war, of course."

"Our point is that we thought you'd be interested in the plight of an organization that is currently truly integrated, but that has some areas that need improvement in its control of its members," Crawford said.

"You want me to help you continue to hold on to the huge power the Corps has, while giving you the freedom to break away from the control it holds over those in it who have enormous destructive power," Mamoru said.

Crawford nodded, as if pleased with a slow child.

"I'm an exile," Mamoru said. "My family has fallen, I can do nothing."

"You could if you took up your father's position," Crawford said. "We could help you get that back."

"Liar," Mamoru said. And to Schuldig, "What were you doing on Semele? You claim to understand friendship – you don't know what your letter did to Nagi. Were you trying to defect?"

Schuldig lifted one shoulder lazily. "I was more interested in ramping up hostilities. A few border skirmishes, maybe some atrocities against civilians – invented ones of course. Something politicians back home would fall over themselves to use."

"I knew you weren't a traitor!" Nagi said, sounding like a pleased child.

"Nagi!" Mamoru said, aghast at the look of incomprehension he got. "You people are supposed to be the guardians of loyalty," he said in disgust, standing up.

"We are," Crawford said. "Wars help focus people's patriotism."

Mamoru walked out on all of them rather than hear another word.

The days that followed were tense. Nagi made some half-hearted comments about his friends being under a lot of stress, then fell into a morose silence. Mamoru ignored him for four days, dividing his time between Shizuka and Claudine and keeping an eye out for trouble there, too. Finally, deciding he would scream if he set foot in the female world again, he sulkily allowed himself to notice Nagi's equally sulky overtures for peace.

"I hate your friends," he said as an opening remark.

Nagi didn't reply aggressively, which alarmed him. He just looked torn and muttered something that sounded uncomplimentary about everyone involved.

"Crawford's right, you know," he said after a little. "We're just things to the state, and abominations to most people, like they called me on the ship. You hear that often enough and you start to think, I'll show you an abomination, and then you realize that's what your trainers wanted -" He turned away. "When I was fifteen, I destroyed a house this size," he said dully. "I reduced it to splinters, because someone I liked and who liked me was dead. I killed everyone in it, enemies, allies, people unlucky enough just to work there – everyone except for my team who knew I wasn't what my records said, and who ran the moment I started screaming. It stopped data falling into a terrorist group's hands, and I got a commendation."

"Nagi –" Mamoru said, unsure what to do.

"They came back to find me," Nagi said. "Schuldig's pretty bad at comforting people, but he tried. Puberty's a bitch, he said." Nagi gave a weary little laugh. "Yeah. When I met you, and you liked me, it was the first time I hadn't felt like a thing in a year and a half or more."

Mamoru put a cautious hand on his shoulder. "You're not going to destroy the house, are you?"

Nagi looked about him in an exaggerated way. "The walls here are a lot stronger," he said. "I'm not sure I have the energy right now." He sighed as Mamoru pulled him into a hug. "I know you think I'm pretty abominable," he said.

"Don't be an idiot," Mamoru said. "I can't pretend to understand what it's like to do what you can, or to have been trained as you were. I know the person you are, though, and I like him. I love him, if you hadn't noticed." Nagi felt all at once as if he had relaxed, tension leaving his body, and Mamoru held him tighter. "Schuldig said we're like a wall, and I see you as the keystone," Mamoru said into Nagi's hair. "Which makes him a rubbish architect, but I still like the image. I don't think that's anything you're likely to be able to break into splinters." Nagi was shaking slightly, and making desperate, quiet gasps for breath, which Mamoru felt it kinder not to draw attention to. He waited till Nagi had control of himself again before kissing him. "What do you want?" he asked. "I've always trusted your judgment, even when you said I'd like that stupid romantic film."

Nagi's laugh sounded better this time. "I don't remember much about that film," he said. "The person I was with kept blocking the screen and kissing me."

"That's the bit I remember liking," Mamoru said teasingly.

Nagi's smile was sad. "Damn it, I wish I really had been a damn college student."

"And I'd have been a beginning, yet successful small businessman –"

"Florist."

"—nothing wrong with that, and no one would ever have said a word to us, and we'd have a blameless life, with only an occasional worrying dip into the red."

"Ah, but my business degree would have kept us in the black."

"Business? I thought you were studying sociology?"

"I changed after meeting you, so I could be of use to you and our business."

"You couldn't be of more use than you are, right now," Mamoru said, stroking his face. Nagi leant against him heavily for a moment, eyes firmly closed.

"If you make me cry again, I'll be very angry with you," Nagi said quietly after long seconds of silence. "Let me talk to Crawford and Schuldig. What they say about the Corps is right, as far as it goes, but what can you do? Let them recall me in fifty years, we'll still have had our life together."

He spoke to Crawford that same day, telling Mamoru only that it went well. When the time came for Crawford and Schuldig to leave for the ship, they seemed unruffled and politely sorrowful to take their leave.

"I wish you well in your married life, Takatori-sama, Nagi," Crawford said. "Please convey our respects to your wives. Please be aware that we bear you no ill-will for your refusal of us, Takatori-sama," he said with a false sincerity that made Mamoru's skin crawl. "You don't have to fear that I will work against you because of it."

"What will you do?" Nagi said sharply.

"Do? Why I'll make a favourable report as before," Crawford said mildly. His smile was fond and distant as he looked at Nagi's face. "I'll encourage people I know are favourable to me to endorse those reports, I'll send more Psi-Corps officers who are in my debt here, and they will make favourable reports. I'll do my utmost to work on Takatori-sama's behalf, my duties permitting. All things being equal, I'd say I might be able to get him recalled within the next five years, and judged as needing no Corps supervision whatsoever. And then I'll sit back and see how he likes that."

"You're a bastard," Mamoru breathed, outraged as Schuldig laughed.

"Very probably, but the Corps blocks all access to our birth identities, so I can't tell you for sure," Crawford said spitefully. "Not that you care about the way it treats us, anyway. I'll look forward to working with you again, Nagi."

They turned on their heels and walked out, leaving Mamoru and Nagi staring at each other in shock.

* * *

The unease of Crawford and Schuldig's departure wore off only slowly over the next weeks. Mamoru felt exhausted, sitting with Nagi over plans and charts of known enemies and potential allies, trying to see the paths by which Crawford might make good his threat, if indeed it was more than empty spite. It was unlikely to be more, Mamoru thought, for it would involve calling in so many favours that it would surely be uneconomical merely for a petty revenge. As nothing immediate could happen, he and Nagi gradually drew breath and felt more secure once again.

Their home life was tranquil enough, Mamoru feeling relieved that Shizuka showed no signs of complaint over the ever-more obvious proof of his continuing association with Claudine, though she did seem annoyed that her sister became pregnant before her.

"I win," Nagi said smugly.

"Were we in a race? Anyway, I have a head start, I'm just letting you catch up," Mamoru said, looking up from his reading.

"Let's face it, if we're in a race," Nagi said, making an obscene gesture towards his groin, "Younger. Better at swimming."

"So that's why Psi-Corps in the dramas are all stoic and silent," Mamoru said. "When you lot start talking, you're all filthy-mouthed and disgusting."

"At least I'm not the one whose wife has given him a chart with favourable dates and times marked out in block capitals," Nagi said sweetly. "I suppose I won't be seeing much of you for the rest of the week?"

"Use the time to catch up on paperwork. Or your sleep."

"I'm not offending you, am I?" Nagi said.

"Oh, no," Mamoru said. "I love this sort of conversation so much that I may have to share it with my wife, who will share it with your wife, and then both our lives can be made hell every time we set foot into the women's rooms."

"Touchy, touchy," Nagi said. "What about the press, if and when she does get pregnant? Can't you imagine the tabloids' glee if they get pictures of her and Claudine going for check-ups together?"

"If only I were a monk," Mamoru said wistfully. "Preferably a hermit. Damn it, we're going on the offensive this time: we'll be the ones to release the information, we release images – something like a big informal portrait of everyone in the family, no explanations, nothing that looks like an apology for our odd, foreign ways, and if anyone says anything, you kill them."

"I'd approve wholeheartedly, except I think you'll probably change your mind and merely have Laurent working overtime to sue people," Nagi said.

"It all depends on how infuriating the stories are," Mamoru said. He stood up, carefully folding away the little chart he'd been studying. "If you'll excuse me, it's late afternoon, and it seems it's time for me to visit my wife."

Nagi saluted formally, as if Mamoru were going to certain death.

* * *

It was five months to the day after their departure when Ito, face set and quietly terrified, told Mamoru that Crawford and Schuldig requested an appointment at his earliest convenience.

"They're back?" Mamoru said, his notes on the minutes of the planetary development council's latest meeting lying forgotten in front of him. "Dammit, I don't want –" He paused at the sight of Ito trying not to wince. "Are you all right, Ito-san?' he asked more gently. "Did they try to threaten you?"

Ito shook his head. "Captain Crawford just asked to see you, sir," he said. "He said it was urgent. I have the number at which to contact them, if you could give me your answer."

It was clear the man didn't want to risk speaking to Schuldig, not that Mamoru could blame him. On the other hand, it would be embarrassing for them both if he were to suggest Ito could not manage a simple call.

"How urgent?" he said, resigned.

"He indicated he needed to see you as soon as he could, sir," Ito said.

"I'll see if I can clear up some time," Mamoru said, a tiny joke that made Ito at least look like he was beginning to regain control of himself. "Tell him he can come to see me tomorrow. And Ito-san? If you want tomorrow off –"

"Thank you, sir," Ito said. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

He left, and Mamoru waited till he was sure he was out of earshot before hurling his notes across the room in fury. He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, calmed himself as much as possible, and contacted Nagi.

"They what?" Nagi said. "What do you mean, they're back? I would have known. Hold on a minute –" He broke the connection, leaving Mamoru fuming. Unable to bear the wait, Mamoru went to his office, standing over him as he ran through lists of ships recently docked at the station.

"There have been no imperial ships," he said. "None. They either came in on an Alliance ship, or they never left the planet."

"Damn," Mamoru said. "Assuming they never left, what the hell have they been up to?"

"Nothing flashy," Nagi said. "Nothing that warranted mention in the press – I can't think of anything on Alcmene that would require two officers carrying out espionage. We're too far off the trade routes, too unimportant to both sides here. If the Empire wanted something investigated, they'd tell me to do it, not send in another two officers. If they were spying on us, I'd have noticed." He ran his hands through his hair, muttering, "I would have noticed, there's no way I'd have missed it."

"So if they came in on an Alliance ship," Mamoru said, "They came in on false papers?"

"They certainly didn't come in on their Corps IDs," Nagi said. "They either influenced someone to bring them down illegally, like they did before, or they came in undercover. Which means they had to get the fare from somewhere – not anything Schuldig would scruple at, mind you. He probably walked into an Alliance bank with a big smile on his face and a polite request just to give him enormous amounts of money. Unless they're here officially, in which case they'd have had their fares paid – either way it's a lot of money to get them here. And a lot of time too – what the hell do they want now?"

"At least they're unlikely to want to assassinate me," Mamoru said. "They asked for an interview."

Nagi looked at him as if he were simple. "What better way to easily get a target into your hands?" he said. "You stay behind me when you see them, hear?"

"All right," Mamoru said. "Are you really worried they might want to kill me?"

"I don't like surprises like this," Nagi said. "They make me nervous. Really, they shouldn't think they can just come here whenever they feel like it. I made my choice."

"Suppose they've come to gloat, to say you're being transferred away from me?" Mamoru said, putting a hand on the back of Nagi's neck.

"Let them try," Nagi said viciously. "I'll fight it. I won't have my damn life taken away from me." He leant back against the pressure of Mamoru's hand. "There's no way Crawford would call in that many favours," he said. "He's too stingy. He won't have done it." He didn't sound as if he believed his own words.

"We won't let them do anything to us," Mamoru said. "Not take you away, not have me sent back. I don't care if nothing ever happens on this planet again, as long as you're here." Whatever they wanted, he thought, he and Nagi would deal with it.

Crawford and Schuldig presented themselves exactly ten minutes before the appointed time the next morning. Mamoru waited till he was ready, then asked Ito to admit them. He admired the man's refusal to be absent, he thought as Ito left the office. He turned his attention to the men standing before him, and was glad of Nagi's silent presence at his side. If he reached out just a little he knew he could touch air as impenetrable as a wall, Nagi's invisible defence for his meeting.

"You wanted to see me," he said.

They didn't look at each other, or show in any way they found his flat, unwelcoming tone amusing. They bowed down to the floor and stayed there.

"I beg your pardon for my previous behaviour," Crawford said. "Please accept both our apologies."

"Get up, man," Mamoru snapped. "You're not funny."

They stood again, their serious expressions not changing.

"I'm not trying to be disrespectful," Crawford said.

"Why are you here?" Mamoru said. "What reason do you have for coming back?"

"We came back as quickly as we could," Schuldig said. "It was a roundabout route, but we finally got a ship headed this way." He looked at Nagi searchingly. "We didn't want to delay more than necessary."

"We have news for you," Crawford said. He did look at Schuldig then, as if he wanted to put off saying more. Mamoru told himself it was designed to manipulate him, to make him feel worried. "We had nothing to do with this," Crawford said. "Nothing." He stepped forward, his hand going to his pocket, and paused as Nagi stepped forward also. "It's not a weapon," he said, and slowly took a data chip out, handing it to Nagi. "Watch this with no one but Nagi present, Ambassador Takatori," he said.

"Why?" Mamoru said.

"Because you won't need to hide your reactions with him, and you'll need him," Crawford said. "Your secretary has the details for contacting us, should you wish to do so. May we go?"

"Yes," Mamoru said, staring at the chip as Nagi put it on the desk.

"You could wait in the staff dining room, if you wanted to eat," Nagi said. He sounded calm, Mamoru thought, though no doubt Crawford and Schuldig could detect the underlying concern as well as Mamoru himself could, after knowing Nagi so long.

They bowed to Mamoru; he paid no attention to them leaving, his eyes fixed on the chip.

"Do I want to watch this?" he asked.

"Probably not," Nagi said. "Move over –" He brought another chair up and sat down, sliding the chip into the computer. He turned the brightness up on the screen and fiddled with the sound.

The quality was shaky at first, as if someone had used a poor quality camera. Nagi turned the brightness up on the screen and fiddled with the sound, and suddenly the picture sharpened, the graphics reader compensating for the low quality file. Mamoru frowned at the sight of what seemed like some stock footage of an imperial city, a date superimposed over the image.

"Three months ago," he said. "What is thi—" He stopped, recognizing landmarks.

"The Hakucho system, recovering from the predations of the criminal regime of Takatori no Reiji, must never again experience the horrors of that time," a voiceover said. The images changed to bodies in the streets, soldier patrolling. "Now that peace has been restored, all precautions must be taken to eradicate elements that might bring back the corrupt rule of those who cost the system so dear, whose example could have encouraged chaos to spread to other systems. The Takatori family, shamed and brought low, must not be allowed to think it can rebuild its strength and impudently trample on the lives of loyal citizens again." The scene changed again, now showing a blank wall and a group of five soldiers and an officer, at attention and expressionless. The date stamp winked insistently in the bottom right hand corner.

Mamoru gasped as two figures were brought to stand against the wall by another soldier. Nagi's hand grasped his arm tightly.

"That's not possible," Nagi said, as Mamoru's grandfather turned to look expressionlessly at the camera. The young girl beside him took his hand in both her own, looking up at him pleadingly.

"The danger of such rogue elements has not diminished over time," the voiceover said. "Although only bastard children of the family exist, it is clear that the traitor Takatori no Saijou has not relinquished his desire to rebuild the evil his son created."

The officer called out a command, and the soldiers readied their weapons. The girl yelled something, and Mamoru's grandfather looked down, saying something calmly. She leant against him, and he covered her eyes with his hand, never looking other than calm, not looking away again from their executioners, not even at the end.

"The Takatori family does not exist in the Empire," the voiceover said. "It dies with this generation. There will be no legitimate continuation of these traitors."

The screen went blank.

"Mamoru? Mamoru?" Nagi said. "This is some trick. It's easy to put a date on an image, you've known for years your grandfather was dead. I'm sorry about your niece, truly, I thought they'd have spared her. Mamoru?"

"Don't lie," Mamoru said. "I'm not blind or a fool. She's older in this. She must be twelve. This is recent. Play it again."

"Mamoru, I don't –"

"Play it again, I said!"

He watched it again. And again, looking at their faces till he was sure what they were saying.

Great-Grandfather! Great-Grandfather!

Hush, child. It will be all right. Come here.

"Mamoru. Mamoru, you have to stop."

"No," he said stubbornly, reaching forward to play it again. Nagi took his hands and held them tight.

"No," he said, standing and pulling Mamoru away from the screen.

"This is my fault," Mamoru said. "Why kill them now? They found out Nakagawa had given us his daughters, they're worried what I'm up to. There's no other reason." He looked up at Nagi in bewilderment. "I did this."

"No, Mamoru," Nagi said. "You didn't. Are you listening to me?"

"I'm going to be sick," Mamoru said abruptly. Nagi glanced at the waste basket; it leapt into his grasp just in time for Mamoru to lean forward and empty his stomach. He sat back, shaking and ashamed. "Sorry," he muttered. "Damn, I'm sorry."

"Come on," Nagi said, and got him up and moving. "That's it, just keep walking –"

Mamoru let himself be taken back to the residency, stood in his bathroom when Nagi told him to and brushed his teeth, then let Nagi make him lie down, just as he was, on the quickly unrolled futon.

"You don't have to worry about seeing anyone till you're feeling better," Nagi said. "Just me."

"I did it," Mamoru said again, and tried not to cry. Nagi lay beside him and held on.

"It's just me," he said. "You can cry. But you are not to blame. You're not." He held on tight till Mamoru was quiet again, then kissed his face. "Rest," he said. "You need to be calm. I'll go and talk to Crawford and Schuldig. Do you want me to have one of the women come to take care of you?"

"No. I only want you," Mamoru said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. "Don't go just yet." He let himself have a few moments more, then pushed at Nagi. "Go and talk to them," he said.

"Rest," Nagi said. "Then wash and change. We'll be in my office."

Mamoru wearily obeyed. His head was thumping and he felt sure he would disgrace himself again if he saw anyone too soon. When he thought he felt a little better he got up and stood under the hot water for as long as he could bear it, then dressed in conservative dark clothing. He looked pale and worn out, he saw, and very young. He'd have to do.

He walked to Nagi's office, wondering why he didn't feel angry. Inside he could hear raised voices, analyzing and dissecting the clip and its ramifications.

"Look, the girl was young, but she could probably have had a child," Schuldig said. "Maybe they were worried Takatori would find some way to get her out and married off to someone they couldn't touch. That's all they'd need, some other powerful fucker out to claim his dear little wifey's inheritance."

"As for the timing, yes, probably it was a warning to Nakagawa and to your Takatori," Crawford said.

"He is not responsible –" Nagi started.

"No, of course not. They'd have done it anyway, sooner or –"

"Fuck, quiet," Schuldig hissed.

Mamoru pushed open the door and walked in. All three of them looked at him like naughty children caught planning mischief. Nagi had changed his clothes too, Mamoru thought numbly. He shifted his gaze slowly to Crawford.

"You said you could get me back to the Empire," he said, calm as Nagi had wanted, as if he were discussing something of no great interest to any of them. Nagi had half risen, looking at him as if he seemed in need of help. Mamoru waved him back to his place. "You said I could help you if I had my father's position and power."

"Yes," Crawford said. "I said that."

"I want my father's position," Mamoru said. "I want his power. I want –" He felt the anger at last, strong and terrible and very much like pleasure. "I want the heads of all my family's enemies, I want them crushed so they cannot come back at me. I want what is mine." He looked at Nagi then, and saw satisfaction. "If I have all that, I will do everything I can to give you what you want," he said, looking back at Crawford. "Can you give me these things?"

Crawford inclined his head, less extravagant in his courtesy, but, Mamoru saw, more honest.

"Takatori-sama," he said. "I believe I can give it a very good shot."

* * *

"It will take time to bring supporters together, Takatori-sama," Crawford said. "You want to achieve this in as fast a time as possible, I assume."

"Yes," Mamoru said. He was tired of arguing, of discussing strategy. He did not want to be told it would be best if he spent years - years, he thought in disgust – building slowly.

"Some months spent now will yield results later," Crawford said. "If you can't be recalled legally, you'll have to go in with enough backing to win and then regularise your position afterwards."

"If I win, I can write the history?" Mamoru said.

"See, he's not so stupid," Schuldig grinned.

"Schuldig," Nagi said warningly. He glared as Schuldig laughed. "You're speaking about a system governor," he said.

"Not yet, I'm not."

Mamoru reached out and took hold of Nagi's wrist. His protectiveness was touching, but it distracted from the more important matters. "Nakagawa will help – can you make him if he tries to remain neutral? How valuable are his daughters' lives to him?"

"We can ensure his loyalty to you," Crawford said. "You don't need to hold his daughters over him yet." He slid a chip over to Mamoru. "There are other members of the Corps who would support you, once they thought you would in turn support them. These are some of their files. There are also plenty of Takatori supporters left in the local forces – I assure you they will fight on your behalf, especially once they see you have Psi-Corps backing."

"What can your associates do?" Mamoru said, leaning forward to take the offered chip, turning it over and over in his fingers. Nagi seemed to have simmered down, so he let go of his wrist and handed him the chip.

"They can do a lot, and rally support themselves," Schuldig said.

"We can look at this later and decide if they really would be useful," Mamoru said quietly to Nagi. He supposed it was galling to Crawford and Schuldig to be taken less seriously than a young man they considered their junior, but he found it hard to care.

"Assuming you will find the support of those officers useful," Crawford said in a dry tone, "They will need to be found and the matter put to them in a way they will find attractive."

"Once I have my father's position I'll work on your behalf, as I said," Mamoru said. "I don't see the need to continually restate that. At the very least I will make my system into one where Psi-Corps personnel cannot simply be assigned and reassigned without consultation with the officers themselves. If you can deliver more than one system, I can say the same for any systems that I become governor of."

"You are ambitious," Schuldig said approvingly.

"It appears so," Mamoru said. "The more you can give me, the more I can give you."

"Let us start with your father's system," Crawford said. "More may come later, if you want it, and if we are able to sustain successful activities. Now, what we need is to alert our friends to this, to gather them together – you'll find that the sight of amassed Psi-Corps personnel will work wonders on those who are as yet neutral towards you. The more support you seem to have from us, the more you'll have from others. No one will think our support is in any way illegitimate; who could imagine us working for our own benefit?" His smile was thin and cynical. "We will have to leave you to gather that support. It would go quicker if there were three of us rather than two."

Mamoru didn't look at Nagi, wondering what was preferable to see, eagerness to go or reluctance to seek further involvement. "I can see that," he said noncommittally.

"I'm not supposed to leave him," Nagi said.

"You're not supposed to take part in this sort of conversation either," Schuldig said. "Afraid he'll decide he prefers girls once you're out of his sight?"

"Nagi," Mamoru said quietly as Nagi drew breath for an angry response. He was pleased at the immediate subsidence to watchful irritated silence. After another moment he felt an invisible light touch on his cheek and knew himself forgiven for the interference. "Please draw up a schedule," he said. "Let me know how long you estimate gathering your allies will take. I'll review it in the morning." He nodded to them as he left the room. Nagi would follow or not, as he wished, he thought.

It was more than an hour later when Nagi crept under the light quilt, waking him from a doze. Mamoru let himself be gathered into an embrace, sleepily putting his arms around Nagi.

"I don't want to leave you," Nagi said.

"I know."

"Crawford's right, it'd make things move quicker."

"I know that too." Mamoru sighed, and tried to wake up properly. "When will you go?"

"Crawford said there's no point in delaying, we should leave on the first available ship. That's the day after tomorrow, I'd have to go up to the station tomorrow afternoon."

"Will you come back?" Mamoru said, and coughed as Nagi squeezed the breath from him.

"You ask the stupidest questions," Nagi said fiercely. "Wake up. I want to make love." He muttered half-audible encouragements and endearments as Mamoru obliged, lying at last exhausted and breathing hard at Mamoru's side.

"I'll get you everything that should have been yours," Nagi said. "That includes me."

"Good," Mamoru said. "It's not worth it, without you." He felt Nagi gradually slip into sleep, and closed his eyes.

The next morning they made love again, as slowly as they could, drawing out every moment. Mamoru knew suddenly they'd never meet again, and hid his face in Nagi's hair so his grief wouldn't be so clear. If Nagi had really been just a student, he thought, they might have had only a brief friendship, before Mamoru's grandfather had brought the weight of his disapproval down to separate them. He'd had Nagi by his side for years, he should be pleased by that, not sad that Nagi loved him enough to go into danger for him.

"Don't risk yourself," he said. "Don't get caught or killed."

"I may not have been on dangerous assignments for the last few years," Nagi said. "That doesn't mean I've forgotten my training – are you crying?"

"No," Mamoru said. "Just come back. If you can. If you want to."

Nagi looked at him closely, a little frown drawing down his eyebrows. "I'm going to make fun of you for this when I come back," he said finally. "Did you think this was the last time we'd be together? You must think I'm easily got rid of. Ah – Mamoru, no –" He held on tight as Mamoru took deep, uneven breaths. "I'll be back as quick as I can," he said. "We'll leave together, then, and I'll kill all your enemies for you, every last one. They're my enemies too, remember. I'm a Takatori. No one will be able to say we haven't avenged our family."

"Yes," Mamoru said, and more strongly, "Yes. We'll rule the system together, Nagi. Or if you want more than that, and Crawford can give me another system –"

"You know what I want," Nagi said. He sighed. "I have to get up. You too, come on." He climbed to his feet and stretched. "I'll use my shower," he said, tying his yukata loosely around him. "I don't have much time."

Mamoru watched him go, then got up wearily. The shower was hot, and he stood there, trying not to think just for a few minutes. Dressed and hungry, he ate quickly before looking for Nagi again, finding him with Crawford and Schuldig.

"Our proposed schedule," Crawford said, bowing.

Mamoru took the pad and read the schedule over. Crawford had given him two, he saw, one assuming Nagi's participation, one not. Things would move faster with Nagi's work, he knew, and they had already said goodbye. He nodded in approval. "Thank you, Captain Crawford," he said. "I'll expect the three of you back by your estimated date."

"Yes," Crawford said. "We'll need to leave for the station this afternoon."

"Please let Nagi know if you need anything. I'll be glad to provide it," Mamoru said. The previous days of discussion lay heavily on him, and he wanted nothing more all of a sudden than for them to be gone. They'd finally got what they wanted from him, he thought, the deaths of his last relatives no more than the useful spur for action. His mind shied away from how his grandfather and niece were surely treated during their years of imprisonment, the memories of his own time in prison seeping up in his memory like filthy water. Schuldig looked at him, not as if he thought it funny, but as if he had some odd sort of sympathy. Mamoru turned away. "I'll leave things in your hands," he said, and went to his office, where he sat behind his empty, polished desk and thought of nothing at all.

The staff treated him with awkward care, not yet knowing what it was he would do, but clearly knowing he was in distress. Ito brought him small, easy things to look at, Hayashi briefed him on an incomprehensible economic dispute between two of the main corporations on Alcmene, forcing him to concentrate. After a little, Hayashi and Ito exchanged glances, and brought Ishikawa in to make Mamoru look at figures and calculations till he began to wake up to his everyday life once more.

It was almost lunchtime when his door opened unceremoniously and Nagi strode in, clad in his black uniform, his face grimly expressionless. Mamoru stood slowly.

"I'm going," Nagi said, stalking up to him.

"Yes," Mamoru said, taking a hesitant step forwards.

They flung themselves into each other's arms, Mamoru dropping the pad he held forgotten in his hand, Nagi's agitation making things all over the room sway and topple.

"Out! Come on, out!" Hayashi said, eyes wide, towing the others from the room as Nagi's intent to bear Mamoru over backwards became obvious.

When at last Mamoru could think clearly again he sat up, letting Nagi help him to his feet. He watched Nagi neaten himself and tried in vain to smooth his own hair down.

"I just had sex in front of my staff," he said in horror. "How can I ever face them again?"

"You kissed me in front of them," Nagi corrected. "I'm almost sure they were gone by the time we hit the floor." He passed Mamoru his comb. "If you hurry up, you can probably convince them that's all you did, it's not like we were very leisurely about things."

Mamoru laughed unwillingly, and took Nagi in his arms again, kissing him more slowly. "You just about have time to shower," he said.

"No. I want to smell you on me," Nagi whispered. He stepped back. "I will be back, Mamoru. Don't doubt that." He paused. "I said goodbye to Hiroko," he said brusquely. "I told her that you'd look after her and the child, and she shouldn't worry if it's a girl."

"I'll take care of her," Mamoru said. "Go on. Go. Come back in one piece."

He didn't go to see them leave. When he was sure they were gone from embassy grounds he sat down to finish his scant day's work. Hayashi looked worried, while Ito's embarrassment was as solid as a blow. Mamoru met their eyes as if nothing untoward had happened and dared them to say anything.

The day dragged slowly on.

* * *

The Road Towards Kamakura, part V (Weiss Kreuz, Nagi/Mamoru)

2008-09-01T09:40:12Z

Title: The Road Towards Kamakura
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairings: Nagi/Mamoru, Crawford/Schuldig, Mamoru/OFC, Nagi/OFC
Rating: R
Summary: In exile in a distant and unimportant post for his family's crimes, Mamoru builds himself a new life.
Word Count: 61000 words.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to toscas_kiss for beta-reading, and to puddingcat, for her wonderful illustrations! This is a sequel to Sailing to Hirugashima, a science-fiction AU in a space-opera setting. Like that story, it takes its title from place names important to the founding of the Kamakura shogunate.
Sections: I; II; III; IV; V; VI; VII

The second anniversary of Mamoru's arrival on Alcmene came and went, peaceful and observed only by him and Nagi. Two months later, Claudine gave birth. Mamoru held the baby in wonder, and had to be reminded to give him back so he could be fed. He'd thought a lot about names, thinking he should honour the father he had never known, but that perhaps that name should go to a son by a future wife. His elder brothers also deserved to be remembered, he thought, and so the baby was named Hirofumi. For once the press seemed united in favourable stories, and the few photos the embassy released were shown again and again. Mamoru felt a deep pleasure and peace at the thought that his family had another generation, even if he never found suitable allies for a marriage. He felt even deeper satisfaction at the news that the doctor who had made the insulting report had lost his footing and fallen down a stairway, breaking his neck in front of several witnesses, none of whom saw anything suspicious. For long months the embassy sank back into the obscurity it was used to, of interest to the rest of the world only when it celebrated the festivals and there were pictures to be had.

Thereafter things began to change. The news that another imperial merchant ship, the Fukurou Maru, had docked was cause in itself for surprise; that it was larger and sleeker than the ship Crawford and Schuldig had forced to carry them was even more surprising.

"What's it doing here?" Mamoru fretted. "This isn't a sane trade route for any ship to take."

"It's an independent," Hayashi said. "Perhaps its captain likes a challenge – if he could get a monopoly on trade with Alcmene it might be economical for him, and it could only improve."

He did not sound hopeful, Mamoru thought. Still, it was perhaps not suspicious that a ship had arrived; Hayashi had said they might expect one once in every two years. If Crawford and Schuldig's arrival were discounted as a disruption of that expected pattern, then the Fukurou Maru's arrival could be seen as something to be expected and desired. He couldn't deny that everyone was cheerful when a communication came from the ship that they had supplies to sell to the embassy. Mamoru looked at the manifest, reckoning that it would give month upon month of familiar food.

"Can we afford any of it?" he asked Ishikawa. "The prices seem high."

"They've brought it a long way," Ishikawa said. "I'll see what the discretionary budget will allow. We can probably buy some of the rice and tea at the very least." He looked at the list of more luxurious foods with longing, and went to check his calculations. He was back within a quarter of an hour.

"Sir!" he said. "Ambassador Takatori!"

"What is it?" Mamoru said, as Ishikawa seemed too shocked to say more. "Tell me!"

"Our budget, sir – it's been doubled!"

"What?" Mamoru said.

"The Fukurou Maru contacted the banks here – our accounts have been credited with the new allowance. And it's been backdated by six months!"

Feeling his legs weaken, Mamoru was glad he was already sitting. "What does that mean for our finances?" he asked.

"We can afford to buy everything the ship is selling," Ishikawa said happily. "It brings us up to the level most embassies of this size operate on."

"We could afford to give the staff bonuses?" Mamoru said, and as Ishikawa nodded, "Pay raises?" He imagined the difference it would make to the staff to feel they were able to save for the future. "I'll leave the exact details in your hands," he said, sending a message to Hayashi as Ishikawa left that he should buy the food the Fukurou Maru had for sale. Where they would store tons of rice was a problem he would leave for others, he decided, and went to find Nagi.

"Have you heard?" he said, coming in to Nagi's office and finding him at his desk, reading from his screen.

"Yes," Nagi said, distracted. "There are messages for almost everyone, let me vet them."

Mamoru waited impatiently as Nagi skimmed message after message before finally marking them to be sent to the recipients. When Nagi finished at last and turned to him, stretching, Mamoru seized him in a tight embrace.

"Apparently we've been living on half the standard budget," Mamoru crowed. "Now we're wealthy! Ishikawa is beside himself at the thought of more complicated accounts! This is good news – isn't it?" he finished, looking at Nagi's expression.

"Yes," Nagi said. "It certainly indicates Crawford and Schuldig have been speaking on your behalf. I still want to know who sent that ship, though. Here, there are message for both of us –" He called up files, transferring some to his pad and letting Mamoru sit at the desk.

"Have you read these?" Mamoru asked.

"No," Nagi said absently. "I'm trusting enough to assume you aren't getting politically chancy messages – and that if you are, you'll tell me." He smiled at Mamoru quickly, and lent over to brush his lips across his forehead. "Read your post," he said, and leaned against the wall to decode and read his own.

Mamoru read the two official messages and the four private ones over once quickly and then again, slowly, savouring the contact with home. The official messages merely confirmed his position on Alcmene, and gave notice of the increased budget. He saw the condensed packet of information marked as 'current events' and decided to read it later to make it last. Three of the private messages were from men he remembered his grandfather mentioning – one he was sure he had met. They were anodyne greetings and wishes for his good health and success. They were nothing such men would have sent if he were still in the deepest of disgrace. One message ended with fond memories of his relatives and the deepest regards of the writer, his wives and "those daughters still living under their father's care."

Mamoru sat back, eyes wide. All this time he'd thought he would have to approach someone humbly, a petitioner begging for a wife, and here was one of his family's friends practically inviting him to make the request. He tried to remember what his grandfather had said about the man. Not the most powerful of our allies, Mamoru, he heard the dry tones of his grandfather's voice whisper in his mind. He is loyal, however, even in these unfortunate days and willing to gamble that our fortunes will be restored. If I had not sworn to your grandmother that I would not marry again – Yes, Mamoru thought. That was the man. Grandfather might not have broken his promise, but he and this man had been friends and he had taken one of his friend's less-valuable nieces as a concubine. Mamoru saw her in a brief flash of memory, smiling sidelong as he blushed at one of her jokes he hadn't quite understood, tapping his arm sharply with her fan to make him drag his gaze up from the floor. Her uncle would very certainly not have changed to be a friend of Mamoru's enemies. He had revenge to seek, just as much as Mamoru.

Nagi was still reading, he saw, and turned to the final message, the one he'd had the heart only to barely skim at first. It was from Ken, a short, awkward message he imagined had cost his friend hours of frustration to write. You're a hard guy to find, Ken wrote. I thought you were crazy to go off with that old man, and I guess you have to admit I was right. What the hell did you get yourself mixed up in? You never had any sense. The shop's doing all right, if you want to come back and earn an honest living and see your old friends. I know this message is just going to get lost, but I hope it gets to you so you know none of us believe any of that shit. I'm sending it care of the civil service, you know the address if you want to reply. Mamoru felt his eyes prickle as he looked at the date. Ken had sent it two years previously, before he'd even set off for Alcmene.

"Look," he said, and Nagi came to read over his shoulder.

"If you'd had more friends like that who actually mattered," Nagi said. "Still dreaming about being a shopkeeper?"

"Only if you want to be one too," Mamoru said, and called up the previous message. "What do you think of this one?"

Nagi read it carefully. "He kept quiet enough when you were in trouble," he said. "He didn't care enough about his niece to try to get her out of there."

"My grandfather said he was a good friend," Mamoru said, looking up at him.

Nagi grimaced. "Maybe he's remembering he was, once. Maybe you should write to him."

"If this man Nakagawa was a friend of my family, are you sure I should be associating with him? I don't want to be seen as an ally to criminals."

"He survived your father's fall, and wasn't seen as worthy of investigation," Nagi said. "Therefore, he's innocent. Don't look at me like I'm cynical, it's just how things work."

"You don't think it's a trap?"

"Here, read this." Nagi slid his pad onto the desk in front of Mamoru. It was a long, involved message from Crawford, full of names and references he didn't understand, but in the middle of it were a few paragraphs about Mamoru's situation. The increased budget was mentioned, and then Crawford noted that one of the Takatoris' enemies had overreached himself and was himself under investigation. Tell Takatori no Mamoru, Crawford wrote, He will have some satisfaction in the downfall of an enemy, no doubt, and will have hope that he will be lifted up as his enemies' fortunes fall. Tell him not to be too over-confident, but that these circumstances have caused his case to be looked at with fresh eyes.

"That's ominous," Mamoru said.

"Keep reading," Nagi said. "The fact that you were investigated by an inexperienced officer is noted, and my mediocre official record is referred to. Perhaps I was easily misled and led astray in my conclusions by your enemies."

"Oh, Nagi," Mamoru said.

"It's all right," Nagi said. "I knew I was giving up everything. I just hope it's not going to be messed up. It looks like the fall of an enemy has encouraged the appearance of a friend. Write to your grandfather's friend, I'll write to Crawford." He looked as if he wanted to say more, then gently took the pad back. "You can read it later," he said. "Let's plan your reply together. Make me sound like an ideal son-in-law."

"We'll have to tell the staff at some point that you've joined my family," Mamoru said. "We don't want embarrassing gasps of shock in front of our potential brides, do we?"

"Hmm, I suppose it's something to consider," Nagi said. "No doubt we can come up with an explanation that will suffice."

They spent the afternoon drafting a reply, sometimes laughing at the ridiculous phrasings Nagi offered.

"You have to stop reading those terrible novels," Mamoru said.

"But they tell me so much about our rich culture and heritage," Nagi said innocently. "All right, take out the stuff about his daughters being like flowers."

"And the bit about longing to pluck them," Mamoru said. He read the resulting letter and decided to sleep on it. "Are you all right with this?" he asked.

Nagi shrugged, like he could think of no reason he wouldn't be. "It's more complicated than I'd thought, being in a family," he said. "But you're worth it." He smiled against Mamoru's lips as they kissed. "You should talk to Claudine too," he said, which was more gracious than Mamoru had expected. "Go on," he said. "I need to write to Crawford."

Mamoru did as he was told and went to the residency. It was very pleasant to know he could drink the tea he was offered without feeling guilty he was taking more than his fair share, and pleasanter still to have little Hirofumi crawl over to him.

"Such a big boy," Mamoru said fondly. "You've heard about the ship, Claudine-san?"

"Yes," she said. "Is it true it has every food from home for sale?"

"A lot of them," Mamoru said. "Did you have any post?"

"My former parents-in-law and some friends," she said, looking at him as if he'd be annoyed. "They hope I'm doing well."

"You must write and tell them everything," Mamoru said. He cleared his throat. "Friends of my family wrote to me, it seems I may not be such a terrible person to know any longer. One of them made a point of mentioning his unmarried daughters."

"Oh," she said, and looked almost without meaning to at Hirofumi.

"Claudine-san," Mamoru said, "You have nothing to worry about. It takes months to get here – I must write to him, he must consider the matter and write back, then I would need to write to him again and finally he would send them or not. If ships were available easily to us it would all take at least a year, and ships are not so easily available. This is sooner than I expected, but it still will not happen overnight. You'll never have to worry about leaving my household, and you needn't worry about your status within it in the future. You never have to worry for Hirofumi – you don't think I could stop loving him, do you?"

"No. Thank you," she said quietly.

"You know I'm not like those journalists claimed," he said. "Claudine-san, let's have another child." She looked at him in surprise. "We can do what we want out here," he reminded her. "I can tell you right now I prefer someone I know and I can talk with to some girl I've never met, and who probably has rarely set foot outside her father's house."

"People will be scandalized," she said.

"They should have learnt to keep their opinions to themselves by now," he said. "What do you say?"

"Yes," she said, and put Hirofumi to bed.

"You'll be unassailable," Mamoru promised, taking her in his arms. "You needn't worry." He would be well-provided with children, he thought. Enough to weather any uncertainties that could be thrown his way.

* * *

Nagi had something weighing on his mind, that much was clear. Mamoru spent time wondering if he could see it because he was now so familiar with Nagi's moods, or if there was something beneath it, from which he was being distracted.

"What's worrying you?" he asked, tired of Nagi's apparent attempt to bore holes in furniture with his gaze. He pushed the bowl of rice over closer to him, hoping he'd eat some breakfast. A day when Nagi hadn't eaten enough was a day everyone would suffer through.

"It's Schuldig," Nagi said after such a long silence that Mamoru was sure he was simply being ignored. "He's not happy." He frowned at the incredulous noise Mamoru made. "I know you didn't like him, but he's my friend. And he has a tendency to do very stupid things when he's upset."

"All right," Mamoru said, thinking he wouldn't much like it if Nagi mocked his friends from when his life was ordinary. "What's wrong with him? What makes you think he's unhappy now, anyway?" he added in confusion, for it had been months since the Fukurou Maru had departed, and Nagi had said nothing about his friends' states of mind since.

"That official mail you got from the embassy at Semele," Nagi said, and stopped.

"Yes?" Mamoru said. It had been a happy surprise to have received anything from what he thought of as a real embassy, even if it had been merely stilted formalities and a gift of Semele's apparently famous liqueurs, all of which Mamoru had found undrinkable. The horror of finding anything on Alcmene worth sending in reply had given him weeks of occupation, and had horrified Ishikawa at the expense involved in shipping.

"There was an encoded message for me attached," Nagi said, not quite looking at him.

"You're only telling me this now?" Mamoru said.

"It wasn't anything to do with us, it was private," Nagi said, sounding guilty. "I promise, no one will have noticed."

"What was he doing on Semele?" Mamoru asked.

Nagi looked even guiltier. "I think he was trying to –" He stopped, and looked away for a moment. "Anyway, Crawford stopped him, and he's all right now."

"Trying to what?" Mamoru said. Nagi looked terrible.

"Defect," he whispered.

Mamoru felt his jaw drop. He couldn't believe what he'd heard. "I think – I think you must have misunderstood something," he said. "Psi-Corps officers just don't. Do they? And it's such a terrible risk for him to take – you said yourself things would go harder on a disloyal member of the Corps than on an ordinary person." That Nagi could even think such a thing made him dizzy.

"He never got to so much as say the word," Nagi said, as if he wanted to convince himself as much as Mamoru. "He didn't mean it, it's just –" He looked sadder than Mamoru had seen in a long time. "He likes being what he is, he likes people being scared of him but sometimes – You know, I think he's tired of being a tireless servant of the state, and I think it's my fault."

"What?" Mamoru said. "That's not right – let me see the message?"

"It's personal," Nagi said, and, "All right."

Mamoru understood very little of it, a series of reminiscences (I felt like that time when - and Brad said I reminded him of that bastard - and we don't all get to run off into the sunset -) but it felt heavy and depressed, ending with the flat note that there's not one shithole here or there that's any better than another.

"It doesn't actually say he tried to defect," he said hopefully.

"He's not that stupid," Nagi snapped. "Look, if you know what he refers to – maybe he just thought he wanted to, maybe he tried to make a joke about it to Crawford, but it's dangerous for him."

"So what upset him?" Mamoru said. "You? Me?"

"They don't let you have families in the Corps," Nagi said. "There's nothing official to stop someone joining someone's family, or marrying, but you know you're saying goodbye to promotion and anything like a decent career. It sends a nice message, don't you think? Freaks like us are for only one thing, and if we try to act like real people we're shown the error of our ways. It's easier to have no friendships, or to have something unofficial, within a team. I've done the impossible; I may have destroyed my career, but I got what I really wanted, no one's sending me away from you. I think he's jealous, I think he's worried he and Crawford might find themselves on separate assignments – hiding our real capabilities worked on our favour when we had a good four-man team that balanced nicely in the records. It's not so good when the team breaks up. Crawford's last message said Farfarello simply decided he was marrying some woman from another team, and put in for immediate reassignment away from ours. He wouldn't have done that without my bad example."

"This could all be an attempt to manipulate you," Mamoru said. "You know they were up to something, you know they were working on your emotions when they were here." Try as he might, he could not imagine a distraught Schuldig, worried about being separated from someone he loved. He imagined Crawford helping him draft the message, knowing what memories they should evoke in Nagi. "They must have considered you'd tell me at least some of this, and they know my feelings on family. They've been leading up to this, I know you've had messages from them that unsettled you before. Don't you think this may be constructed to appeal to poor family-haunted Takatori no Mamoru as much as it is to you?"

Nagi took the pad back and read the letter over. He was still miserable, Mamoru could see, but now he was thinking. "Bastards," he muttered. He turned it off at last, with just the faintest curl of disgust about his lips. "Do you object to me writing to them?" he asked.

"Not at all," Mamoru said. "They're your friends."

Nagi leaned across and took his face in his hands, kissing him slowly. "I very much like having a family," he said, his breath faint against Mamoru's skin. "Don't think I'd exchange that for my friends' desires."

Mamoru kissed him back, not letting him go. I'm in a battle, he thought, seeing again Schuldig's anger over Nagi's choices. It was a choice Nagi had made every day in his favour for years. But I am not without weapons.

* * *

Negotiations with his grandfather's ally Nakagawa were as slow as Mamoru had promised. Little Hirofumi could run and his new brother Masafumi was sitting up and fascinated by the world by the time the next ship arrived. Hayashi took control of buying its offered sales goods while Mamoru and Nagi pored over the messages each had received.

"Maybe you should finish with the letters to the staff first," Mamoru said. "Most of them are ready to explode with impatience." Ito had come in at least four times to ask if they wanted coffee. The man had taken his life in his hands, Mamoru thought, and really should be allowed read his mail.

"All right, all right," Nagi muttered, calling up the staff's post and scrolling through it so quickly Mamoru doubted he'd read a single word. "I'm forwarding it on," he said. "It's not like any of them are subversives."

"Nakagawa congratulates me on discovering another relative in you, and after a lot of hot air about a father's duty to protect his innocent daughters from the hazards and temptations of life all too prevalent in the modern world –"

"Sounds like he has the same taste in novels I have," Nagi muttered.

" – basically says he'll be more than happy to ship two of them here," Mamoru said.

Nagi looked up. "Really? Just like that? What does the small print say?"

"You are so cynical," Mamoru said, reading on. "The small print talks a lot about the old friendship between our families, how people of good families should treat one another with courtesy even in times of hardship, and so on. He seems to think I look a lot better than I think I do. What does he know that we don't?"

"Possibly nothing," Nagi said. "Make sure he isn't talking about daughters he'd be happy to sacrifice if need be. Tell him you'll want ones from an important wife - you can bet he didn't give your grandfather too valuable a niece."

"We'll just have to be a little trusting," Mamoru said, ignoring Nagi's eyeroll. "What does yours say?"

"It's cheerful, doesn't show any of the despair of the last one," Nagi said. "Maybe Schuldig was drunk when he wrote the last letter, maybe he was just venting frustrations."

Maybe he likes hurting people too much, even his friends, Mamoru thought, smiling as if he gave a damn about the worries either Crawford or Schuldig went through.

"Dear Nakagawa-san," he said, typing. "Please send your most valuable and prettiest daughters. Also, please don't run and hide the next time your friends are in trouble."

"You should send that just as it is," Nagi said.

"Perhaps just a little editing," Mamoru said, glad to have made him smile.

"When they arrive, people are going to be even more scandalized about me," Nagi said. "I mean, if we're both married men –"

"Let them be," Mamoru said. "I'm past caring. Everyone on the staff is used to you, as for the locals, well, what do they care? Another scandal in the press? I might ask you to kill people openly."

Nagi looked wistful, as if missing the atmosphere of fear that had surrounded him in the latter part of their voyage to Alcmene. "If we went home," he said. "I mean, if you could return without a stain on your name, back to your family's wealth and power, would you care about the scandal then?"

"Not at all," Mamoru said. "No doubt some people would be jealous of my having tamed a Psi-Corps officer." He ducked as Nagi threw his stylus at him. It looped round and caught him on the back of the head before flipping back to Nagi's fingers. "Who would dare say anything, if I really had my family's old power?" Mamoru said, rubbing his head. "Why ask something like that anyway? Are you suddenly worried I might like it too much, being married?"

Nagi raised an eyebrow at his grin. "I think not," he said primly. "I'm sure a properly brought up girl will keep herself even less in evidence than Claudine. I'm sure mine will, anyway."

"You eternal romantic," Mamoru said, and ducked the stylus again. He went back to his letter, assuring Nakagawa he wanted nothing more than to reaffirm the friendship between their families. It was funny, in a moving way, he thought, that Nagi should have such a worry suddenly surface. There was nothing to be alarmed about – his grandfather had spoken approvingly about Nakagawa's old-fashioned principles, which almost certainly meant the kind of daughters Mamoru had only ever known of as tragic heroines in boring dramas.

"You'll have a long time before you need to fight for my affections," Mamoru said. "There won't be another ship again for a year, I bet – throw that again and you'll be sorry."

"If he really wants your friendship he doesn't need to send them like parcels on an independent merchant ship," Nagi said, tapping the stylus against his teeth and visibly calculating trajectories Mamoru would find hard to evade. "He can afford to buy them a nice, comfortable passage on a better ship."

"If he's that rich I really will have to keep his daughter happy," Mamoru said. "You'd better start praying she's not the jealous sort."

The stylus hit him square between the eyes.

* * *

Nagi was, Mamoru discovered, quite right. Fourth months later Nakagawa's daughters arrived in the care of, to Mamoru's great disgust, Crawford and Schuldig.

"I didn't know," Nagi hissed when he brought the information to Mamoru. "I just asked them to find out what sort of man Nakagawa really is." He glared at Ito, clearly unwilling to argue in front of him.

"Fine," Mamoru said. "You didn't know. You just thought it was a wonderful idea to tell them our business."

Ito fled on the flimsiest of excuses, leaving Mamoru and Nagi to look at each other in annoyance.

"I really didn't," Nagi said.

Mamoru paced back and forth. He was glad he hadn't delayed on having the residency redecorated. The private rooms had been rearranged, a sitting room and an odd-shaped room no one had quite known how to use being lost to what had become the women's rooms. Claudine had lost some of her space too, though Mamoru had so far resisted moving her to the building that had at first provided the accommodation for most of the embassy staff. He should have had that whole building converted, he thought, it might make Nagi less snappish if he didn't have to worry about suddenly living in a household of women. "We'd better put the kitchens on red alert," he said. "All we need is for everything to run smoothly for a week, and then let the ship go with their letters home saying how wonderfully quaint everything is here and how happy they are so Nakagawa doesn't think he's made some sort of mistake."

"Happy," Nagi said. "Right. No handcuffs on the wedding night."

"Sorry," Mamoru said. "I've no sense of humour just now. Can you deal with Crawford and Schuldig?"

"Yeah," Nagi said.

Mamoru stopped pacing and clutched his head. "What the hell have I got us into?" he said. "I should have been content to molder away here unnoticed for the rest of our lives."

"Yeah," Nagi said, rather more fervently. He pulled Mamoru to him. "Stop acting like a child. We can't change things now, not without turning an ally into an enemy." He indicated the screen on which he had called up the ship's transmission of the passengers' arrival, and they both looked gloomily at the pictures. "They don't look like sulky girls who'll write home to complain right away. I'll vet their letters to be sure."

"Suddenly I do care about the scandal all this is about to cause," Mamoru said. "Purpose of visit, Ms Nakagawa?" he said as haughtily as he could in the local language. "To get married to the Ambassador, tee-hee! Damn it, by the end of the day the press will be back to insulting me, and pretending to champion Claudine-san's rights."

"At least they can't go after you under their bigamy laws," Nagi said.

Mamoru looked at him from between his fingers. "Thanks for the effort, but that really doesn't help. Why the hell are you laughing?"

"I could distract them by going to the press with my story," Nagi said. He sat down abruptly. "I think your hysteria is catching. Look, they're just a bunch of Alliance backwater hicks who latch on to anything to make this damn planet seem more interesting. Ignore them. Remind yourself that by the time a year has passed all this will be old news, and you'll have another three Takatori children to grow up and trouble the Empire for years to come."

"Two, don't you mean – assuming the most favourable outcome?" Mamoru said.

"Three. I checked Claudine's bathroom," Nagi said unrepentantly.

Mamoru closed his eyes. "I'm so glad I don't actually bother trying to keep things from you," he said. "Please do me the favour of not making drunken jokes about my private life with your friends."

"It's my private life too," Nagi said. "Let's get everything ready."

The embassy looked as good as it could, Mamoru thought. The staff were elated at the news, even at such short notice; the reception rooms newly decorated in imperial style were very pleasing; the private rooms were as bright as the small windows allowed and no longer smelled of paint. Mamoru stood fretting in the centre of the largest of them, wishing he could turn back time.

"I'm ready."

He turned and smiled at Nagi, who looked boring and unremarkable in Alliance-style clothing, just one of the ordinary embassy staff as far as most people would be able to tell. There had been no illegal trips on shuttles this time, and Crawford had sent word just before the party had boarded the space elevator. Nagi would go with Mori and Hayashi to make sure that no reporter got too close to the women. Nagi stepped in close and kissed him lightly.

"See you soon," he said, and was gone.

Mamoru sighed and went to see those of his family who were least likely to be celebrating. The moment he went into Claudine's rooms Hirofumi cannoned into his legs.

"Up, Papa!" he demanded.

Masafumi was a little slower, and gave the impression he was holding on to Mamoru's legs for support. "Up!" he echoed.

"Leave your poor Papa be," Claudine said. "He's very busy."

Mamoru knelt and produced the sweets they weren't supposed to eat so early in the day. "Be good for your mother," he said. "Hey, now, don't chew with your mouths open, boys." They grinned stickily and tickled him till he produced the rest of the sweets they were sure he was hiding.

"Nagi's headed off to meet them," he said, looking up at her. "I'll need to wash and change soon." He stood and looked around. "You know I'll keep my promise, don't you? Nothing will change for you or the children, or as little as possible. I'm sorry about you giving up a room."

"I know," she said.

"I need allies," he said, as he'd said to her before, knowing it was for his own conscience's comfort. "If I could follow my own preference – well, you know how things are, with Nagi and me. But my family needs –"

"Please," she said, embarrassed. "I have my work, and I have a family. You've always been very kind to me."

"It doesn't sound like much. You could have had a handsome local sweep you off your feet, someone you didn't have to share."

She laughed then, surprising him. "I'm not like Ishikawa-san, shy only at work," she said. "I don't know that I would have liked such complications. And my friends write to me and say they're jealous, because you're famous."

"Infamous," Mamoru said, smiling. He gently disentangled the children from his legs. "I should go. Oh – Nagi, um, searched –" he stopped, embarrassed, gesturing in the direction of her other room.

"Searched my bathroom?" she said. "One of these times I should like to be the one to tell you the news."

"He means well," Mamoru said. "And he's really, really nosy. Congratulations, and thank you." He looked at his watch. "I have to go, I need to be ready to face his vile friends. I'll come back as soon as I have time." He paused, embarrassed, then touched her face briefly. "I'm very fond of you," he said, feeling it inadequate, and watched her cheeks turn scarlet.

He went as quickly as was polite, waiting till he was safe in his own shower before groaning in frustration and worry.

It had all been so much simpler when he was still a shopkeeper.

* * *

Nagi was back by the time Mamoru was starting to dress. He came in, his hair gleaming wet, to help Mamoru on with his second-best set of clothes.

"The press is going to be furious," he said lightly, settling the line of the kimono more neatly on Mamoru's shoulders. "There were no reporters at all. Someone on the station has finally learned it's rude to pass on information. Did you try to tie this while drunk? Tch. All we got were a few turned heads, but no one was so ill-bred as to acknowledge the presence of anyone outside our party. They seem very quiet girls – they each come with a person described as a companion, by the way, just in case either of us feels the need of variety once the honeymoon period is over." Mamoru gave him a dirty look and he smiled sharply. "There now. You look less like a sack. You look – very formal."

"I'll help you," Mamoru said.

"I could just wear my uniform, let the poor girl know what she's getting right from the start."

"She can know after she's married. Anyway, I'm sure your friends have terrorized her with it for weeks. Come on, don't just stand there."

"We have plenty of time," Nagi grumbled. "They'll be getting ready for hours." He let himself be helped into his clothes. "Not bad," he said, watching Mamoru make sure the hem was perfectly level.

"Tomorrow's will be better," Mamoru said, walking round him to check everything was perfect. "All right. I need a drink." He led the way down to the newly redecorated reception rooms, annoyed to find Crawford and Schuldig making themselves at home, kneeling on the mats like ill-omened, black-clad spiders. Schuldig let out a low whistle at the sight of Nagi's formal clothing.

"Knock it off," Nagi muttered, and knelt to one side of Mamoru.

"I trust you had an uneventful journey?" Mamoru said, finding himself far more interested in the flask of sake a thoughtful person had left ready.

"Let me taste it," Nagi said in a pointed tone. "Someone might have poisoned it."

"I'm hurt," Schuldig said. "As if I'd poison anything you'd share, Nagi-kun."

"We had no trouble at all, Takatori-sama," Crawford said, "A relatively fast and pleasant trip." He glanced over at Schuldig, who stopped looking like he was about to cause trouble. "We were glad to help, though you no doubt find it hard to believe."

"You weren't asked to deliver them yourselves," Nagi said.

"Just doing you a favour," Schuldig said. "Making sure they got here fresh and unspoilt."

"Captain Crawford," Mamoru said. "No more such tasteless remarks, please."

"No," he said, shooting another quelling glance at Schuldig. "I sent Nagi our report on Nakagawa, I hope it was useful? He seems much as he has presented himself to you, a friend of your family who was clever or lucky enough not to fall with your family. He was quite impressed that you had Psi-Corps officers as your emissaries."

"We helped him settle his mind," Schuldig said. "At the last moment he vacillated a little, wondering if you weren't perhaps too young to marry straight away, but we told him how terribly disappointed you'd be, not to get what he promised."

"They threatened our ally," Mamoru observed to Nagi glumly. He drank another cup of sake.

"Ignore him," Nagi said, not bothering to lower his voice.

They sat drinking in silence for some time longer before Hayashi came in to tell them the women were ready. Mamoru knelt up straighter, and took as deep a breath as he could without being very obvious. He wished he were as used to wearing formal clothes as Hayashi seemed to be. He felt more and more ridiculous.

"All right, Hayashi-san," he said.

Hayashi went out again, and returned moments later leading in the women. "Nakagawa no Shizuka and her younger sister, Nakagawa no Hiroko," he said, bowing.

Mamoru looked at the two of them and their companions, who did not rate an introduction, it seemed. They were both dressed brightly, their red outer layer of clothes heavily embroidered, the layers beneath showing colours that must, Mamoru supposed, be in the current fashion, their hair in simple styles. They looked younger than their pictures and the information given him had suggested, and he wondered if they were all that happy to exchange their bright clothes for the more sober styles of married women. They and their more plainly-dressed companions all bowed deeply and neatly.

"You're very welcome, Shizuka-san, Hiroko-san," Mamoru said. "Won't you sit?"

They bowed again and folded themselves into ladylike kneeling positions their companions a little behind them, chaperoning them against the terrible roomful of men, Mamoru thought. "You've already met my kinsman, Takatori no Nagi," he said, gesturing to where Nagi knelt. "I hope your journey to Alcmene was not very tedious."

"It was very interesting," the elder girl said. "We were very glad of the officers' help."

"I'm glad they were of assistance," Mamoru said, seeing she was going to say no more. "You must tell me if you need anything, or if anything seems strange to you here. This world is very distant from others, and things will not necessarily be arranged as they would be at home." He paused, but apart from murmured thanks they were silent. "You would perhaps like to rest, and prepare for tomorrow?" he said.

"Thank you," the elder girl said, and they all waited in silence for Hayashi to escort them to their rooms.

"Not great conversationalists," Schuldig said when they were gone. "Get them drunk, however –" He grinned at the identical annoyed expressions on Mamoru and Nagi's faces.

"We should let the ambassador and Nagi rest as well," Crawford said, eyes narrowed in irritation.

Mamoru waited till they were gone, then let himself topple slowly over backwards till he was lying flat on his back on the mats. "Gah," he said.

"You're creasing your kimono," Nagi said absently.

"Yes."

"We can't back out now."

"No."

"Come on," Nagi said, standing abruptly. "Let's get changed, have something to eat, and then only think about ourselves for the rest of the night." He bent down, offering Mamoru a hand.

"Sounds perfect," Mamoru said, hauling himself upright. "Let's not spend too long on the first two of those."

* * *

They were married the next day in front of all the staff. Mamoru looked at his reflection beforehand. He had more formal clothing with him than he had at first ever thought he'd wear, his wardrobe sent into exile with him because an ambassador, even such a one as him, needed to look the part. He'd thought such things came from expensive shops once, the kind he could never have afforded to enter, let alone actually buy anything in. He heard again his grandfather's dry, scornful laughter at the thought people like them should buy decent clothing in a shop. What a terrible snob, Mamoru thought, running his fingers over the subtle pattern in the heavy, hand-sewn silk. I'm going to die of heat exhaustion in this.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

He turned and nodded in satisfaction at Nagi's appearance. His clothes were better perhaps even than Mamoru's, as they dated to when the family had really been wealthy. Nagi didn't mind wearing second-hand clothes, and it wasn't as if Mamoru's eldest brother would come looking for them.

Nothing untoward happened, to Mamoru's relief. Neither the brides nor grooms had a last-minute change of heart, so he supposed Schuldig was on his best behaviour. The kitchens provided enough food to feed three times the number of people present. As he drank sake with his bride Mamoru distracted himself by thinking how lucky they had been in the local workers who maintained the smooth running of their everyday needs. Not once had information or pictures in the press been linked back to them, even though he was sure that at times the tabloids must have made tempting offers.

By the end of the day he was exhausted, rather over fed, and longing to fall into bed and sleep dreamlessly. Which he knew he could not do, as he had a stranger lying in his futon, looking at him a little warily. She was now wearing only the innermost layer of her kimono, he saw. It looked as if she had tied it as tightly as her whole outfit had been earlier. I wasn't brought up to the idea of a political marriage, it's odd for me too, he imagined saying. It was stranger for her, he thought, sent off into exile in the Alliance to someone her father thought might be useful many years in the future. He knelt by her side, taking her hand.

"Shizuka-san, you really are very welcome," he said. "I hope you'll be happy here."

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He smiled at her a little helplessly, every reassurance he wanted to give her sounding gauche or insulting in his mind. "Would you like me to turn the lights off?" he asked, obeying as she nodded.

He was as careful as he could be to neither hurt nor offend her, and was glad at last to fall into sleep.

The next day was better for all of them, Mamoru hoped, with fewer formal demands. Those of the staff present were introduced again, in case their names had been but a blur the previous day, and he put names to the girls who had come with Shizuka and Hiroko.

"Our friends, Yuriko and Tomoko," Shizuka said, managing without words to convey that mentioning their family names was a pointless exercise.

Mamoru smiled politely as they bowed, noting how similar they all looked, and wondered if Nakagawa had taken the opportunity to rid himself of unacknowledged daughters. Tomoko smiled up from under her lashes at Nagi, and Mamoru resolved to sound Ito out on the subject of marriage as soon as possible. Ishikawa was still as opposed to marriage as ever, though thankfully now more discreetly than before. Maybe one of the older men would take the other one off his hands, he thought.

All that was left to him then was the introduction he'd been dreading. Claudine had not been much in evidence the previous day, a tactful gesture he'd been grateful for. Now, watching her bow in front of Shizuka, he was suddenly assailed by images of feminine warfare from every family drama he'd ever been stupid enough to watch.

"This is Claudine-san, for whom I have the very highest regard," he said, wondering if he'd said it too firmly, if he was reassuring or making declarations of war necessary. "And these are my sons, Hirofumi and Masafumi."

"Who's the pretty lady with Papa?" Hirofumi asked.

"That's Shizuka-sama," Claudine said. "You must be polite to her –" She gently made him bow down to the ground. Masafumi cheerfully tried to imitate his elder brother and rolled over, giggling.

"What lovely children," Shizuka said. She smiled at Claudine. "I'm sure we shall be the very greatest of friends." It was politely said and meant nothing, Mamoru thought.

He conveyed Shizuka back to her sister and friends and went back to his own room, searching out Nagi on the way. If he never saw any women ever again, he thought wistfully –

"So, last night?" Nagi said. "Don't leave anything good out."

"Nagi!"

"I'll go first, then. Mine is a very well-brought up girl. I've never felt so ignored in my life."

"Maybe you should have done some magic tricks or broken into song," Mamoru said waspishly. "What're you looking at me like that for - oh, all right. She was, um, quiet. Very quiet, just like her name."

"Pfft, women," Nagi said scornfully. "When can we stop sleeping with them?"

"Not just yet," Mamoru said dryly. "I took her to see Claudine and the boys," he went on. "Those poor children, they've no idea what I've just done to them."

"You haven't done anything," Nagi said. "Their future hasn't changed, they'll still be brought up to good, useful roles in the family just as you always planned. Nothing's been taken away from them."

"I suppose," Mamoru said. "You don't think she'll poison them, do you?"

"Oh for – I'll use my official status as the damn scary one of the family to terrify everyone into good behaviour if you want."

"Yes, please," Mamoru said, knowing he sounded ridiculous. "I'm glad you're not taking all this badly, Nagi."

"Oh, the things I endure for you," Nagi said mockingly, pulling him close. "Such horrific ordeals –" He kissed him. "Hmm, that felt vaguely scandalous, now I'm a respectable married man." He kissed him again. "Definitely scandalous. I like it."

"Would it be scandalous if I tore all your clothes off?" Mamoru said, nuzzling his neck. Nagi's familiar, solid warmth in his arms was comforting, he thought, and very good.

Nagi glanced at the door and Mamoru heard it lock. As a visual underlining a chair slid over to jam itself under the handle.

"I seem to be in your power," Nagi said. "Scandalize me. Repeatedly, if you have the energy."

Mamoru was glad of the residency's thick, stone walls. It would be embarrassing, he thought, if their laughter reached their wives.

* * *

The Road Towards Kamakura, part IV (Weiss Kreuz, Nagi/Mamoru)

2008-09-01T09:34:56Z

Title: The Road Towards Kamakura
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairings: Nagi/Mamoru, Crawford/Schuldig, Mamoru/OFC, Nagi/OFC
Rating: R
Summary: In exile in a distant and unimportant post for his family's crimes, Mamoru builds himself a new life.
Word Count: 61000 words.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to toscas_kiss for beta-reading, and to puddingcat, for her wonderful illustrations! This is a sequel to Sailing to Hirugashima, a science-fiction AU in a space-opera setting. Like that story, it takes its title from place names important to the founding of the Kamakura shogunate.
Sections: I; II; III; IV; V; VI; VII

The staff seemed pleased by the new family arrangements, as if Mamoru had suddenly done something more understandable than his attachment to Nagi. As the weeks passed they showed no sign of becoming jealous, or of thinking she was in an intolerable position from which they should plot to rescue her. They were even, he saw, pleased to see Claudine continue her everyday work as if she were – Mamoru laughed a little at the thought – as if she were an ordinary shopkeeper's woman, rather than an ambassador's.

"Yes?" Nagi said, seeming as suspicious as ever that he might be the one laughed at.

"I was just thinking about being a shopkeeper."

"I'm glad you had a career change," Nagi said. "You'd have needed to be a very wicked shopkeeper for me to have met you." He laid his report on Mamoru's desk. "All situations remain as previously reported; here's Mori's report – he also has no changes to tell you of."

"Good," Mamoru said. "We could take the rest of the day off, if you like?" Nagi's face brightened, and Mamoru grinned at his glee. Nagi had a recording of an Alliance war film he thought hilarious and had been longing to inflict on Mamoru, and it seemed this was to be the day. Mamoru didn't care as long as he was happy; Nagi had snapped at him the first time he had made such a suggestion, saying he didn't need to be given treats like a sulky, jealous child. He had not refused, though, and Mamoru was happy that with each further obvious sign of preferment the sulkiness grew a little less. He was happier still that Nagi had never again demanded the personal details he had the morning after Mamoru had first slept with Claudine. Honestly, he thought, what had that achieved but to make them both miserable? At least Nagi hadn't taken it out on her; while he was not a polite person, he was not rude to her. As time had passed he'd become used to things, Mamoru thought, letting Nagi go ahead to set up his terrible film.

It was, therefore, a shock to hear Nagi's most peremptory tone of voice coming from the small set of rooms that had become the women's quarters of the household. Mamoru groaned. Had Nagi found her unexpectedly at home and decided months of irritation and pretending not to care overmuch were all to be spilled out at once? Mamoru hurried in to make peace, to find Claudine kneeling before a photo of a young man, in a position that suggested she was trying to protect it, with Nagi standing over her looking annoyed.

"I didn't do anything to her," Nagi said quickly as Mamoru took in the marks of tears on her face. "I just said maybe it'd be better to stop apologizing to her dead husband for having your child and to actually tell you."

"What did you say?" Mamoru said blankly.

"I'm sorry you've been told like this, Mamoru-sama," Claudine said. "I wanted to be sure –"

"I've checked her bathroom; it's been six weeks since she used sanitary items and part of a torn-up box turned out to be from a pregnancy-testing kit," Nagi said. He looked from Claudine's expression of outrage to Mamoru's shock. "What?" he snapped.

"Nagi, you don't have to spy on family members," Mamoru said. "If you want to know something I'd tell you – Claudine-san would too, wouldn't you?" She nodded, warily.

"I wasn't spying, I was keeping an eye on things," Nagi said huffily. He looked just the tiniest bit embarrassed, though Mamoru was fairly sure that was due to being discovered. "I just didn't see why she was delaying telling you."

"I wanted to be sure," she said again. "Mamoru-sama, I'm sorry you had to find out like this." She looked like she had opinions about the situation and about Nagi that Mamoru was glad to see she was wise enough not to voice.

"I'm very pleased," Mamoru said. "We must make sure that you have all the medical attention you need." He leant close to Nagi to murmur, "You really mocked her about her dead husband?"

"I wouldn't have called it mockery," Nagi said. "Just a reasonable question. I can try to be more tactful," he said grudgingly.

"Thank you," Mamoru said, whispering more quietly, "You could also tell her you weren't abusing your position by barging in to her rooms, that you're a family member."

"No," Nagi said. He gave a brief, curt bow towards Claudine. "Congratulations," he said, and walked out.

Mamoru felt a light touch on his hair just before Nagi closed the door, and decided it was an awkward, silent apology. Poor Nagi, he thought, sorry that interactions that should be simple seemed so hard for him to manage. "I hope you weren't upset," he said, kneeling by Claudine. "I'm sure he didn't mean to."

"No, of course, Mamoru-sama," Claudine said.

"He can be a bit rude, but he has a good heart," Mamoru said helplessly, feeling he was betraying Nagi by talking behind his back, and feeling he'd equally betray Claudine by not saying something. He sat with her a while, talking about his day and wondering if agreeing to any and all suggestions she might make about the education programmes would be seen as weakness or simply as a proper and expected reward. Finally he rose mid-sentence, blurted, "Excuse me," and hurried off to find Nagi.

"Nagi!" he said, finding him in his office. He came up and put his hands carefully on Nagi's shoulders. "Look, I'm not annoyed with you, but don't you think –"

"Yes, all right," Nagi muttered, holding up a hand to stop him speaking. "Just a moment –" He was listening to something on an earpiece, Mamoru saw. "Yeah," he said now, harshly, and Mamoru saw he was not the one addressed. "Go on."

His face was pale and set, and he looked suddenly much older than nineteen. Mamoru looked into his eyes, trying to get him to acknowledge him, mouthing, What? What is it? Nagi waved him away again, looking like he was in pain. He listened in silence to whatever he was hearing, then Mamoru felt pressure on his hands, like they'd been gripped and held tight. Something was wrong, he thought, dreadfully wrong and unconnected with Nagi's behaviour earlier. Please, he thought. Please tell me.

"Copy," Nagi said, and broke the connection. He stared down at his desk, then took a deep, deep breath and looked up into Mamoru's worried face. "I love you," he said, clearly and firmly.

"Is it very bad?" Mamoru asked bleakly.

"Five hours ago the imperial ship, the Suzume Maru docked at the station –"

"It needn't mean anything," Mamoru said. "It could just want to sell us tea at a vastly inflated price, or have mail for the staff, and we've discussed ships coming here – you said we'd really have nothing much to worry about, and you can run rings round anyone --"

Nagi was just looking at him, so he fell silent to hear the rest of it.

"Someone on that ship took a risk, so that Mori wouldn't be caught unawares," Nagi said. He looked away and back again, the flickering gaze that let Mamoru knew he was truly unsettled, then touched Mamoru's face like he was saying farewell to something precious and fragile.

"It's carrying Psi-Corps personnel," he said.

* * *

The embassy could be fortified if they had enough time, Mamoru thought. The compound had high surrounding walls and gates, the buildings' outer walls were thick stone. They'd withstand several direct hits from ordinary weapons, at least the kind used if attackers wanted to capture survivors. Against opponents who could do things like Nagi, he had little hope.

"We needn't give up hope," Nagi said, pacing back and forth. "They'll come here, there's no other reason for them to be on this world, but what is there for them to find? I can destroy the files relating to me joining your family, I'm good enough they won't be able to tell. Other than that, everything is exemplary. Hayashi's a weak link, of course."

"Nagi?" Mamoru said. "Are you going to kill him?"

"If necessary," Nagi said absently. "I can do it fast and painlessly, don't worry." He patted Mamoru's arm, continuing, "I know you'd prefer otherwise. I'd still consider myself part of your family, truly."

"What if they're just here on behalf of my enemies?" Mamoru said.

Nagi was quiet, then something invisible wrapped itself around Mamoru's wrist and pulled him into Nagi's embrace.

"You won't feel any pain," Nagi said brokenly into his hair. "We'll die together."

They clung on to each other till Mamoru felt Nagi's breath even out. He squeezed tight a last time and stepped back.

"What about Claudine?" he said. "The family's not destroyed if she has the baby."

"It could just be a girl," Nagi said, getting his voice under control. "You should get her out of here, and hidden in the city somewhere. If they are here to do your enemies' work they'll make her have an abortion."

"What would happen to her?" Mamoru said.

Nagi was silent a moment. "Give her a gun," he said. "Tell her to kill herself the moment she's found. If you think she can't, do it now, yourself."

Mamoru thought of his grandfather's concubines, their youth and sly humour of no help to them. He held out a steady hand. "Give me a gun."

It was heavy in his hand, getting heavier with every step he took. He came into her rooms and found her working, the pictures on her screen bright and cheerful, showing children playing. She stood up as he approached, her eyes widening as she took in the gun. It would be kinder, Mamoru thought. If they're coming to destroy us, it would be kinder.

"An imperial ship has docked," he said. "There are Psi-Corps personnel on board. Their only possible reason for coming to this world is to see the conditions here at the embassy and how I am conducting myself. We don't know yet if their orders go further than merely investigating. Naoe-san says –" he swallowed. "Nagi says that if they mean me harm you should not fall into their hands."

"Ah," she said, still looking at the gun in his grip. She folded her hands over her stomach.

Damn it, Mamoru thought, closing his eyes a moment. "Pack the very smallest of bags," he said. "They can't get here before morning, Nagi says. That damn elevator won't go faster just to please them. Hide in the city, and if I don't contact you by noon, go to the security force and claim asylum. Raise the child properly, as my heir."

"Will it come to that?" she said.

"Who can tell? I don't give a damn if you're both Alliance citizens if you're both still alive. Quick, quick. And take this –"

The gun looked odd in her hands, he thought.

"If you're in danger of being taken by them, don't hesitate," he said.

"No," she said, and ran to throw things into a bag. He gave her all the money he could find, and his cards.

"This too," he said, giving her his seal. "Come on –"

When she was gone, he ran back to Nagi to find him examining files with grim satisfaction.

"It's clean," Nagi said, gesturing at the screen.

"I've sent her to hide, and to ask for asylum if I don't get in touch," Mamoru said.

Nagi gave him a stern look. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear the second part of that," he said.

"If anything happens, I may yet be avenged by my son," Mamoru said. "Or my daughter, I suppose. Nagi, send Hayashi away as well, so he can't be questioned. I'm going to trust your capabilities like before, I'm not giving up yet."

Nagi straightened up and looked more like the young man who had come that day to arrest him, hard and dangerous.

"Yeah, fuck that," he said. "Let's fight."

* * *

The staff should be told, Mamoru thought, then changed his mind. No, if they knew nothing, they couldn't be held responsible. With Hayashi and Claudine safely gone it was only Nagi and he who could be in trouble. There was nothing incriminating to be found, Nagi assured him. All they could do was wait.

They did not have to wait as long as they'd hoped. It was barely full night before the news came.

"Sir, sir!" Ito said, looking more wild-eyed than Mamoru had ever seen. "The security guard at the gate just said he admitted two men with imperial identification, but he can't think why he didn't call to check with Mori-san. Sir, they're Psi-Corps!" He looked askance at Nagi's pale face. "I can't find Hayashi-san! He's not in the embassy, he's not at home!"

"I'll go," Nagi said, standing. "Calm down, man!" he snapped at Ito. "No one here has anything to fear from us."

Ito shrank back at hearing Nagi include himself with the newcomers. Nagi pressed a button on his desk. He stared at the display, frowning as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "Keep watch," he muttered to Mamoru, and with no other word, stalked from the room.

Mamoru stared at the security display. Nagi, it seemed, had cameras everywhere. He flicked through the options till he came to a small, boring office in the embassy, and saw two tall, black-uniformed men looking about them with disinterest. The taller had black hair and wore an incongruous pair of glasses, as if he had always lived on some benighted world that didn't offer even the simplest of corrective surgeries for minor defects of vision. The other had messy, bright red hair that he fiddled with, as if it were an unconscious nervous habit. Someone had been present to give them coffee, he saw, as the red-head sipped at a cup and grimaced in disgust. "They're in the smaller public waiting room," he said quietly into the communicator.

Copy, Nagi said, and, I know that already. Get off this channel, damn it.

A smaller inset display showed him walking fast down the corridors that would lead him to the room. Mamoru shifted his gaze back and forth between Nagi and the men. Neither of them was imperial, though the taller might have some imperial ancestry, he thought, though the red-haired one didn't look like he had any.

Nagi, Mamoru thought, wishing Ito were not in the room and he didn't have to appear calm. Oh, Nagi.

On the screen, Nagi came to the office, and not even pausing for an instant, opened the door and entered. Mamoru clenched his fists as, on the larger display, Nagi stopped dead, staring at the other two Psi-Corps officers who looked back at him, silently.

"Hey, Nagi-kun," the red-haired one said, breaking into a sly grin. "Surprised?"

"Nagi," the taller, black-haired man said.

Mamoru held his breath as the three of them looked at each other silently. They glanced from one to another and the red-haired man made small gestures, as if carrying on a conversation no one could hear. All at once Mamoru saw the tension leave Nagi's shoulders, and the faint smile that was his public acknowledgment of pleasure was there-and-gone on his face.

"It seems I didn't try hard enough to get away from you," he said, his tone only mildly snide.

"Such thanks, after we hurried all this way to catch up on gossip," the red-haired man said.

"Hurried so much you still can't find time for a haircut, I see," Nagi shot back.

"We've had a long journey, is there possibly something better to drink than this?" the taller man said, peering into his coffee with an air of scientific interest.

"Not really," Nagi said. "We keep that crap specially for passing freaks. Drink up."

Mamoru sat back. Nagi was making jokes, he thought in blank surprise. In public. More than that, he realized, they were all putting on a show for the cameras. Are you really old friends? he thought. Or are you trying to warn me by acting so oddly? On the screen, Nagi indicated the door, and the three of them walked out of the room. Mamoru's communicator beeped.

"Yes?" he said.

Takatori no Mamoru, Nagi said, distant and official. Meet me in the blue sitting room.

"Yes," Mamoru said. "Should anyone else be present?"

No.

Mamoru stood, and made sure he looked presentable. He glanced over to meet Ito's frightened eyes.

"Sir," Ito said helplessly. He paused, then said in a rush, "You're not a bad person, Takatori-sama. I'll tell them that, we'll all tell them."

"Thank you, Ito-san," Mamoru said. He looked at Nagi's desk, wishing suddenly he still had the gun. Frowning, he picked up the letter opener. It was honed to a razor's edge. Oh, Nagi, he thought fondly, and slipped it up his sleeve. "Don't worry," he said to Ito, "I promise not to try to start a knife-fight with them."

Every step of his short walk felt like a thousand kilometers. He passed the few people still in the embassy compound without registering who they even were. They bowed as if they were saying goodbye, or simply stared as if he were a ghost. He stood at last outside the door, composing himself, then opened it and went it to face what would happen. They were all sitting down, Nagi and the taller man sitting neatly, the red-haired man sprawled casually in the most comfortable of the armchairs. He looked up, fast and avid, at Mamoru and grinned cruelly.

"The traitor himself," he said. "Ready to face justice, Takatori? Nagi's report will damn you." He laughed at Mamoru's shock as Nagi jumped up. "Oh, did you think he was your friend?"

"Shut up!" Nagi yelled.

Was Nagi ashamed? Mamoru thought. Was he just afraid? He'd said things would go harder for him than Mamoru if they were taken as traitors. Mamoru was absolutely determined, he suddenly knew, not to go back to prison and face what he'd been through before – and if he couldn't be questioned, he thought, feeling the blade against his arm, Nagi would be safer.

The thought wasn't properly formed before the dark haired man snapped something that sounded like a warning and the other was, impossibly fast, beside Mamoru, immobilizing his arm.

"Can't you take a joke?" he grumbled, pulling the blade free.

"Mamoru," Nagi said in horror, coming up and pulling him away. "No, no, you don't need to." He held on to him, whispering, "Really, it's all right. These are my friends, who helped me with your case before." He glared at them both. "Spare him your sense of humour."

The taller man stood and bowed politely. "My name is Crawford. I hold the rank of Captain," he said. "And this is Lt –"

"Schuldig," the other broke in.

"Right," Nagi muttered, as Mamoru tried to make sense of the outlandish sound. "He calls himself that, it's from an Alliance language, it's not his name. Our fourth team mate calls himself Farfarello – I think he and Schuldig picked random words from Alliance dictionaries."

"It's as much my name as the words the Corps uses on my ID," Schuldig said, something in his voice telling Mamoru this was an old argument. He held the letter opener up. "Nice knife," he said sarcastically, and flung himself back in his chair.

"We're not here to harm you," Crawford said. "We're here to see Nagi and to make sure he's satisfied in his choices." He smiled at Mamoru, polite and calm, as if used to dealing with silly childish things Nagi might do. "I decided not to take the elevator, you'd both have been far too excitable if we'd given you too much time."

"Luckily the pilot of the only shuttle on station was eager to give us a free trip," Schuldig giggled, playing with his too-long hair. "What a lot of regulations these people have about visitors. It was just too boring to endure."

"You didn't enter legally?" Mamoru asked before he could stop himself. All three of them looked at him with a mixture of pity and scorn. "We're here at these people's sufferance," he muttered petulantly.

"You might suffer to give us a bed, Ambassador," Crawford said. "We've had a very long journey; our discussion with Nagi can wait till tomorrow."

"And you have so much to quiz him about tonight," Schuldig said genially, with a thread of spite underlying his voice. He yawned, and unfolded himself from the chair like a cat stretching. "I'm tired," he said. "Find me a nice bed, Nagi."

"I'm not leaving you alone with them," Nagi said quietly, and pulled Mamoru from the room. "There are plenty of rooms now the staff have moved to live nearby," he said. "Get someone to fix one up."

"Ito-san," Mamoru said. "Just one room?" he added a moment later.

"Just one. Go on, I'll see you in a little."

Mamoru hurried back to Nagi's office. Ito was staring avidly at the security displays, and looked up guiltily as Mamoru came in. "Come on," Mamoru said. "They're staying and need a room."

Ito looked like he'd object, perhaps say that it was beneath his dignity to change sheets and plump pillows, but he followed Mamoru eagerly enough, and did not say anything about the strangeness of the situation as they picked a room and made the bed together.

Mamoru went to his own rooms to hide, wanting to contact Nagi and fearing he would still be with the others. At last the communicator beeped.

I'm about to open the door. Don't shoot me.

"I don't have a gun," Mamoru said.

The door opened and Nagi came up to him quickly, pulling him up from where he knelt and hugging him tight.

"It's all right," he said. "It's going to be all right."

"Are you sure? What if they report something bad?"

"You didn't really believe Schuldig, did you?" Nagi said. "He can be an idiot; he didn't mean it. Mamoru, they already know what I did for you, they're the friends who helped me do it. They won't do anything against you, I promise." His smile was professional. "Anyway, I know things about them. Be careful of your thoughts around Schuldig, he's a telepath. Crawford can see future events, it's how he warned Schuldig you had the blade."

"Why are they here?" Mamoru said.

"I'll talk to them. They probably want me to do something, but I'm not going anywhere. I have a lifetime assignment, Mamoru. I plan on seeing it out." He kissed Mamoru, slipping his hands inside his clothes. "You don't have to worry, they'll make a good report and no one will bother us for years. Come to bed."

"We'll be all right? I can tell Hayashi-san and Claudine-san that?" Mamoru said.

"Yes. Tell them to come back tomorrow and come to bed."

Mamoru fended him off long enough to send messages, relief flooding through him at the thought that they'd live, that the family would go on. He let Nagi wrap himself round him, tugging his uniform open.

"This isn't the last time?" he asked as Nagi dragged him down onto the futon.

"How would you do it if it were?" Nagi said.

"I'd have to think –" Mamoru said.

"Not too long," Nagi laughed. "The very first thing you think of, right now."

Mamoru looked into Nagi's shining, hope-filled face and thought how good it was to be alive. "I'd want you to take the lead," he said. "Will you?"

"I can do that," Nagi said. "It's my job to take care of you, after all." Mamoru closed his eyes and heard Nagi's voice turn deeply amused. "So lazy," he murmured.

It was better even than he'd been able to imagine, Nagi's terrible power lying light on his skin and Nagi's touch eager and sure. "You're so lovely," he groaned, and Nagi stopped doing anything for long, silent seconds, then Mamoru felt him kiss the back of his neck, very softly, before starting to move again, slow and careful. When they lay finally quiet in each other's arms Mamoru felt himself drifting towards sleep, the slightest movement of airy pressure over his body letting him know Nagi was still awake and wrapped up in their pleasure.

"This wasn't the last time," Nagi said, very quietly.

Mamoru clung tighter to him and slept.

* * *

"Nagi says it's safe to come back," Mamoru said, smiling as Nagi examined his reflection critically, straightening his uniform to perfection. "No, really. He says –"

The communicator twitched itself from his hand and somersaulted neatly into Nagi's grasp.

"He says there's nothing to worry about," Nagi said, his casual tone of satisfaction probably telling Claudine more than she wanted to know about their night, Mamoru reflected. "Remember, you're under my protection. Don't take that lightly." He tossed the communicator back to Mamoru. "I'm going to find our guests," he said, and strolled out.

"It really is safe," Mamoru said. "Come back." He spent some time telling Hayashi the same thing, then went in search of Nagi. He found him with Crawford and Schuldig, calmly eating breakfast and talking about people they all knew.

"Takatori-sama," Crawford said, managing to sound both polite and sarcastic. "Your kitchens do the best they can here, the cooks are to be complimented."

"They're local workers, and very skilled," Mamoru said. He refused to be stung into admitting the embassy had not had the budget to bring staff deemed non-essential. He joined them and drank coffee silently. For a man who sought to insult him through faint praise, he thought sourly, Crawford was certainly eating enough. Schuldig looked hard at him and sniggered, glancing from Crawford's face to Nagi's. Nagi shot Mamoru a slightly irritated look, while Crawford merely took another of the fresh rolls and ate it. Mamoru belatedly remembered Nagi's warning about Schuldig, and filled his mind with thoughts of breakfast. Denied further amusement, Schuldig concentrated on his own meal, leaving Mamoru in peace.

"If we might speak with Lt Naoe in private, Takatori-sama?" Crawford said, his voice still that unsettling mixture of deference and insolence.

"Please," Mamoru said, as if he really had any say in the matter. He watched them go, then went to his office, praying that there'd be something to do for once, enough to distract him. After an hour Ito told him Claudine and Hayashi had returned.

"Thank you," Mamoru said. "Tell them to keep out of sight, there's no point in attracting attention when they may both be worried about having been absent last night."

"Yes, sir," Ito said. He had no sooner left than Mamoru heard his voice raised in alarmed protest. "Please –" Mamoru heard, then the door burst open and Schuldig came in, his face angry.

"What did you do to Ito-san?" Mamoru said in horror, catching a glimpse of hopeless pain in Ito's face as the man sagged against the wall outside the door.

He blinked. Schuldig was by the door and then right by him, a hand gripping his throat.

"Who do you think you are?" Schuldig snarled. "Who the fuck do you think you are? He's not your fucking lap-dog."

"Let go," Mamoru croaked. He pulled away, reluctantly aware that he had been let do so. "Ito-san!" he called. "Are you all right?" Ito nodded weakly, though his eyes were still shadowed and frightened. He turned to face Schuldig, feeling he was turning towards a snake about to strike.

"Do you know how long you could be kept alive, how long you'd beg for death?" Schuldig said, spite in every word.

"I and all the people in this diplomatic mission are under the protection of Naoe Nagi," Mamoru said, with more conviction than he felt.

"He's not yours," Schuldig said. "Don't ever make that mistake."

"Do you think I'm not eternally aware that I have nothing?" Mamoru said, letting all the bitterness of his family's fate colour his voice. Schuldig stared at him, then swept out. Mamoru exhaled, relief that he seemed to have hidden something from Schuldig flowing over him. He ran to Ito's side, helping the man into a chair before contacting Nagi.

"Schuldig was just here," he said. "He did something to Ito-san and tried to scare me."

Did he succeed? Nagi said.

"Oh, yes. Where are you?"

On my way. He sounded a little breathless.

Mamoru heard running footsteps and looked round as Nagi ran in. He went down on one knee by Ito's side, and turned the man's face to look in his eyes. Ito flinched back, then got himself under control.

"Does your head hurt?" Nagi said.

Ito nodded miserably. "I felt like something disgusting had touched me," he said, "Or that I myself was that thing –"

"It's not real," Nagi said. "You'll be all right, but go and take something for the pain. It won't happen to you again." He watched Ito go, then turned to Mamoru. "What did he do to you?"

"Told me you weren't my lap-dog," Mamoru said. "At least I assume he was talking about you, I didn't want to get into a drawn-out discussion with him. I told him I knew I owned nothing – I think he believed me."

"Did you believe what you were saying, even if it was just while you were saying it?" Nagi said. His lips twisted into a sort-of-smile at Mamoru's nod. "Good – no, don't look like you insulted what we have. Genuine belief is a good defence against telepaths' inquisitiveness – but now that you know that you probably won't be able to do it again." He squeezed Mamoru's hands. "I said some things that irritated him; it looks like he decided you were to blame. He'll calm down, but I'll have to remind him not to damage people who are mine."

"All of us, Nagi," Mamoru said. "Please, consider we're all yours."

Nagi just looked at him, then, "Whose else would you all be? I'll deal with it, don't worry. Will you be all right?"

"Yes," Mamoru said. It was unpleasant to see Nagi go. He gave up on work and retreated back to his private rooms. Claudine wasn't there, so once he felt he could face the staff with dignity he went out to find her, heading straight for her office.

"Go home," he said with no preamble.

"I didn't think they'd come looking here, why should they care about the education of children?" she said.

"I want us both in one place, where Nagi can protect us," he said. "I shouldn't have told you to come back, but it might attract too much attention if you left again."

"Are we in danger?" she said in alarm.

"Not if Nagi can be with us," he said. "Don't get separated." He hurried her along the corridor to the residency, pausing only when he heard Nagi's voice behind a half-open door.

"I told you, he's worth it," Nagi said.

"It's a dangerous path to walk," Crawford's voice said. "If belonging is so important, you know there is always a place for you with us."

"No one can work all the time, not even us," Nagi said. "You're the people who taught me what it's like to have someone see you properly, see you're a person, not a mindless weapon."

"He does that for you, does he?" Schuldig's voice said. "He's worth losing your career, your place, your whole damn life? All because you've got emotions and hormones mixed up –"

"You're a fine one to talk," Nagi snapped as Crawford said warningly,

"Nagi –"

"Oh, he loves you, and you're the one who's important to him," Schuldig sneered. "Which is why he's outside with his concubine right now, and he'll fuck her later even though he told you it was only till she got pregnant."

"Go," Mamoru muttered, pushing her, and Claudine ran. He'd been a fool to assume they didn't know he was there. He waited for what would happen. Nagi came out and looked at him, then took his hand and pulled him into the room.

"My name," Nagi said defiantly, "Is Takatori no Nagi, and Mamoru has never doubted my loyalty to him. So there's no point in trying to influence me or him now." He kissed Mamoru long and hard and glared at his friends, his arm tight around Mamoru's waist.

Crawford and Schuldig looked at each other with satisfaction, as if Nagi had confirmed something they'd been expecting. Mamoru wondered if any of their traps had really been for him.

* * *

Things had changed, in some way he didn't quite understand. Crawford and Schuldig were no longer antagonistic; they went out of their way to appear harmless, though Mamoru was glad to see all the staff treated them warily. Ito, especially, was apt to vanish when Schuldig was present. Nagi was relaxed, enjoying what seemed to be becoming a social visit, and spent long hours at night drinking and talking with his friends. Mamoru was excluded from those meetings, something he heartily approved of. If he passed by and heard his name mentioned he simply shut his ears and hurried away.

Things had changed privately as well. For the first time he was truly glad to have taken Nagi's advice. It was a relief to have someone waiting for him when Nagi was sequestered with the others, and it did not seem to worry either Nagi or Claudine when he took her to bed.

"I'm sorry," he said the second night. "I shouldn't ask you to provide me with comfort."

After a pause she said, "I'm comforted too."

Mamoru put a hand out to stop her leaving for her own room. Nagi wouldn't be angry, he thought. Since the night they had realized Crawford and Schuldig were not there to arrest them he had treated Claudine with a sort of amused pity, as if he had won a contest she had never been forward enough to assume she was in. It was nothing Mamoru thought anyone could enjoy, and it was a small enough gesture to give her some sort of courtesy and kindness.

He woke to slowly lightening darkness and the realization that Nagi was kneeling by the edge of the futon.

"What is it?" Mamoru asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"They want to help us," Nagi said, exultant. He leaned over to kiss Mamoru, the smell of wine strong on his breath. "You'll be pleased. I'll tell you more later, but I knew you'd want to know. Stay," he added loftily, as Mamoru felt Claudine stealthily trying to reach her yukata beside the bed. "I'm going again, I just wanted to let you know." He bent down and kissed Mamoru swiftly and a little clumsily, then was gone.

"It's all right," Mamoru said. "He was drinking."

"Yes," Claudine whispered.

In her place, Mamoru thought, he'd be lying as still and embarrassed as she was. He pulled her closer and gave her what comfort he could.

Nagi found him the next morning and took him aside.

"Mamoru, Crawford assures me that he knows you are totally free of any crimes your family committed. He says it's obvious and only a fool would think otherwise. His word will be protection against your enemies."

"What will it do for you?" Mamoru said. "You said you had to alter your report –"

"Oh well, I'm a young fool making up for overzealous interpretation of evidence," Nagi said. He put his lips against Mamoru's ear, whispering, "If he makes a report in the right ears, you'll be unblemished in the eyes of the law."

Mamoru pulled back. "One officer's report? Would that be enough?"

Nagi looked sorry. "I'm getting ahead of myself. No. You're right. What it can do is make you look better than you do now. We can't go back, but if we're lucky this might be a real diplomatic mission in a couple of years. Are you pleased?"

Mamoru thought about it. "I'd be rehabilitated?"

"Over time, not straight away."

This is what I wanted, Mamoru thought. To do his duty, to prove he wasn't what his enemies said, to be given a chance to have his family allowed home. And to have it handed to him years earlier than he'd expected –

"What do they want?" he asked.

"Nothing," Nagi said. "Or not much," he added. "They wanted me to come back to them; they thought I was mad to have done this, and thought I'd be ready to run after being stuck out here for eighteen months." He touched Mamoru's hair, murmuring, "As if I could be tired of you. So they'll help me arrange things here, instead."

"If I were rehabilitated –" Mamoru began. He thought of the scandal he would have caused his grandfather, if he had openly had a lover from the Psi-Corps, and someone like Claudine. "What will it do to us?"

Nagi looked less sure of himself than he'd been. "I thought you'd be pleased," he said.

"We can do what we want here," Mamoru said. "I thought that was what pleased you. If – Nagi, if you'd reported me innocent how long would we have had? You'd have been assigned elsewhere, and that would have been an end to it. You've done everything to keep me alive and keep us together, and you keep doing things I want to please me – what do you want?"

"I don't want to be sent away from you," Nagi said. "I want you." He pursed his lips, then, "Crawford might be able to help more subtly – the mere rumour that you might be rehabilitated could tip balances towards you, without risking you actually be moved from here. He could –" He took a breath. "It would make us both look less of a risk for making marriage alliances."

"Yes," Mamoru said. He looked hard at Nagi. "Could you do that? I won't ask you to –"

"Of course," Nagi said. "It doesn't change much." A calculating look came into his eyes. "And just one wealthy ally would make us seem so much better to others."

"It wouldn't change anything that matters," Mamoru said, taking his arm. "I promise."

"I'll talk to Crawford," Nagi said, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. "He'll be sympathetic." Mamoru snorted at the idea of Crawford being sympathetic to anyone. Nagi smiled slyly. "He will. He's not what you think, Mamoru. He knows what it's like to be fond of someone; he's very fond of Schuldig."

"I've made no assumptions about their relationship," Mamoru said. He was very sure he was wise not to. Nagi gave him a look like he was being willfully stupid, and went about his business.

That evening, Mamoru found himself trapped. Schuldig was lounging against the wall, waiting for him as he came back from his office.

"Good evening," he said, stepping right into the middle of the hallway. "Won't you come and keep us company?" He pushed the first door open. It led to a small and unremarkable office, and Mamoru had never seen fit to have it used it for anything but storage. Now he found boxes arranged as if they were a desk, Crawford sitting behind them and looking like he owned the whole building. Schuldig gave Mamoru the smallest of shoves into the room and closed the door behind them. Crawford indicated a chair, and Mamoru sat, wary and silent.

"We'll be leaving here very soon, Takatori-sama," Crawford said. "Lt Naoe has made some requests of us, and I see little reason to refuse him. What are your thoughts on the matter?"

"I always listen to his advice," Mamoru said.

"He's offended you didn't say 'Lt Takatori', Brad," Schuldig said, dropping down into a chair just in Mamoru's field of peripheral vision. "He feels you insult his generous acceptance of a homeless and strange creature into his family."

Mamoru turned to look squarely at him. "You did not take that from my mind," he said evenly, ignoring the way his heart hammered. "It is merely your own desire to cause trouble and to create a split between us."

"Such a brave little bastard," Schuldig said, leaning forward. "Do you think you can prevent such a split if I really exert myself?"

"I know him," Mamoru said. "I believe him."

Crawford made a little gesture, no more than a flick of his fingers, and Schuldig sat back.

"He's scared," Schuldig said, his tone suddenly more business-like. "But he's finding he has limits to that. He sees himself and Nagi as –" He raised an eyebrow. " – as an interlocking wall. There are other people mixed in there, but Nagi's the keystone. And he's a little offended at my public familiarity with you."

"All right," Crawford said. It was directed at Schuldig, Mamoru saw, not himself. He felt a rush of annoyance at the thought Schuldig had been set to rattle him, and felt more annoyed still as Schuldig grinned at his realization. "Takatori-sama," Crawford said, "You should not imagine that you will go home and take up all your family's power and wealth. You and Nagi have reasons for wishing to stay where you are. However, I will do what I can for you – this may be very little, but you will have both our good will."

"Thank you," Mamoru said. "Why?"

"Because Nagi's decisions may not be as foolish as they first seemed," Crawford said. "We are servants of the state, Takatori-sama, and it is foolish and a dereliction of duty for such a servant to fall in love with a surveillance target."

"Then why did you help him?" Mamoru said. "Nagi's never been derelict in his duty," he added.

"I can see the future," Crawford said. He smiled thinly. "We're here now to make sure there was nothing – unforeseen."

"What does the future hold for us?" Mamoru asked. Crawford didn't answer, just rose and bowed slightly.

"I'll ask the captain of the Suzume Maru to sell you some of his supplies," he said. "No doubt you'd like to have a taste of home."

Schuldig moved to open the door, and Mamoru saw he was being dismissed. In my own damn house, he thought, not bothering to try and hide the thought. "Thank you," he said, and walked out quickly, still full of the irritation Crawford's high-handedness had caused. It was only when he was safely hidden away in his own rooms that he allowed himself to hope his annoyance had hidden the other thought he had ruthlessly squashed down. He and Nagi were being used in some greater plan of Crawford's, that much was clear.

He would trust Nagi to steer them properly, so that they would be the ones who profited from it.

* * *

Crawford and Schuldig left as illegally as they had come. Mamoru shielded himself from knowing the details, simply taking relief in the fact that Nagi didn't look worried at all. Two days after they left, the Suzume Maru departed, taking with it any messages the staff had to send home.

"What do you think the outcome of all this will be?" Mamoru asked.

Nagi pursed his lips. "It's difficult to say. Crawford didn't seem worried, and if there were to be some sort of bad outcome for me, he'd have said." He looked a little shamefaced, continuing, "Even if he doesn't really give a damn about you, he values me, and knows what I'd do if you were harmed." He stole a sip of Mamoru's tea. "Let's hope that it means nothing more than your enemies being discomfited in a way they have no redress from, and that it allows us to have some home comforts more often."

"You've had your share," Mamoru said, trying to get the cup back without spilling any. It turned into a half-shoving, half-wrestling bout that ended with the tea miraculously unspilt, and Nagi and him entwined. It was amusing except – "You're trying to distract me," Mamoru said.

Nagi sighed, and sat up. "I wish I could tell you exactly what would happen," he said. He took a deep breath. "Now they're gone, I wish they'd never come in the first place. Schuldig's good at making people forget how dangerous it is to be friends with people like him and Crawford," Nagi said ruefully. "Even me, when I am a person like them."

"Yet you think they wouldn't endanger you, and to keep you happy, wouldn't endanger me," Mamoru said.

"I'm strong, and therefore useful," Nagi said. "Emotional bonds aside, Crawford does not discard useful things or people."

It was another tantalizing hint, and one Mamoru felt he should explore. "How strong are you?" he asked, keeping the question casual.

"Strong," Nagi said. He looked sidelong at Mamoru, "Stronger than most who can do what I can. My official record doesn't say that. Like Crawford's doesn't say how much he can see of the future. Schuldig's says he's strong, but his rank is reduced due to his erratic nature." He looked innocently at Mamoru's confusion. "I held back, all through my training. It wasn't hard, a lot of it came to me only when I'd gone through puberty."

"Why would you hold back?" Mamoru asked. Nagi hated to be bested, hated to be shown up. He couldn't imagine him willingly allowing himself to be seen to be less than perfect.

"Crawford told me to," Nagi said, watching him. "He found me, you know. I was ten years old, a freakish little orphan no one wanted. I should have been handed over to the Corps years earlier, but the director of the orphanage thought it was no life for a child. Once I joined the Corps, I found I agreed with that point of view. The fact that I never lived up to my potential was put down to a lack of early training."

Mamoru sat very straight and still. The Psi-Corps were the guardians of loyalty; it was sobering to hear Crawford had been such a baneful influence on Nagi's life. "What are you involved in?" he asked at last. "What is Crawford planning?"

"You don't know what it's like, the training," Nagi said without heat. "I wasn't worth further effort, and the first chance Crawford got, he had me assigned to his team. I was supposed to finish up my training in the field, learning how to appear to be a normal person. You don't know what it was like, to be with people finally who wanted me, for my sake."

Mamoru thought of his grandfather. He couldn't pretend that he'd wanted his last, bastard grandchild for himself. Mamoru had been useful purely for his ability to provide the next generation. Nagi, however – he took Nagi's hand. "I know what it's like, to finally have someone want me," he said.

"It was no more than that," Nagi said. "Really. Just the chance to do our work, and be with people who saw each other as more than tools or property." He snorted dryly. "Do you think the Planetary Development Council would like to hear they should forget the plight of the non-imperials, I'm the unfree person on staff?" He stood, smoothing his clothing into neat lines. "I still wish they'd let us be forgotten," he said, "But don't worry too much. They won't deliberately harm us."

As reassurances went, it was less forceful than Mamoru had hoped.

* * *

The months that followed were so quiet that Mamoru could convince himself that there had never been any other Psi-Corps officers to disturb his existence. He devoted his working hours to improving his grasp of the local language, and to diligently reading every scrap of official business he could persuade the staff to show him. His private time he divided unequally between Nagi and Claudine; he was glad Nagi still seemed to consider himself victorious, but feared setting off his jealousy once more. It was easier to give her domestic responsibilities in the household and have her sit with them to watch broadcasts or if he entertained the senior members of staff. It was more work for her, which made him uneasy, but no one could deny her status or claim he was using her for one purpose only. She should be present if he ever gave a formal dinner for the councillors, he thought. That would underline her position, let her know he didn't want to hide her away. He could invite Kaminski and his wife, he thought.

"Hmmm," Nagi said when he broached the idea. "I don't know. These people have strange ideas about how families should be. They might make fun of you both. Ask Hayashi."

Hayashi spent some moments looking as if he needed to search out the right words. "Naoe-san is right," he said. "While there is nothing to stop you, you should be careful with terminology. You might refer to her as your partner."

"That's not really –" Mamoru started.

"No, but it will be close enough," Hayashi said firmly. His expression said quite clearly, Please don't embarrass us.

Claudine herself looked regretful at the idea. "I'm not sure I'd be well enough, Mamoru-sama," she said.

Mamoru accepted defeat. The heat was not easy on her, he knew, and she had taken a lot of time off work to go to doctors. "Don't feel you have to," he said. "You must keep well."

"Mamoru-sama," she said, and paused. "The clinic keeps asking when the father will come in. They say it's their custom to keep genetic information on the parents of any child."

"Oh," Mamoru said. "When's your next appointment? I suppose I could –"

"I haven't told them it's you," she said in a rush. "I'm sorry, it's just I get the feeling – more than one of the staff there has said such information is kept in case the child is adopted and needs to know their genetics for medical reasons. It's how they say it, like they assume the child is half-imperial, and they feel I wouldn't want to have it. They also," she said, anger beginning to show, "Leave out information on abortion, that I feel they have specially worded for a foreigner to easily understand."

"They what?" Mamoru said. "Claudine-san, we won't put up with this. This is a respectable household and neither of us have anything to hide. You tell them I'm the father, tell them your position in my family. I'll go with you if you want, or if there's a real medical reason. Otherwise, you can tell them to go to hell."

It felt good to have asserted his rights until the tabloid headlines came to his attention, a few days after her next check-up. Tragic romance was the most sympathetic; Mamoru could not bring himself to look too long at those that spat prejudice.

"I want an investigation and disciplinary action taken over this breach of patient confidentiality," he said to Laurent. "And I want to sue every damn journalist and commentator who thinks they can use the term 'sex slave'." He stalked back and forth, telling himself it would not be right to ask Nagi to kill every such person.

"Yes, sir," Laurent said. "I must remind you we have limited funds for such actions, however, and our previous complaints about irresponsible stories have not met with much success."

"You think I should take this lying down?" Mamoru said. He was glad Laurent looked taken aback at the idea.

"No, Takatori-sama," he said. "I think you and Martin-san are right to be outraged. Many of their family practices would be seen as just as outlandish at home, they should never have said those things."

Mamoru felt glad for such support, a balm after Hayashi's resigned I told you so attitude earlier. He sat down and tried to think. "Should I respond to any of the requests for interviews?" he said.

"The ones saying they'll give you a chance to put your side of the story?" Laurent said dryly. "What story? At most this should rate a small column in society news once the baby is born. Ignore them, sir. Hayashi-san and I will draw up a statement on the breach of privacy. I don't think there's anything we can do about the photographers, though, as long as they stay on public ground."

"The moment any of them sets a single toe on embassy grounds I'm setting Nagi on them," Mamoru grumbled. He closed his eyes in frustration. "I'm sorry, Laurent-san, I shouldn't have said that."

"It's very understandable, if you will forgive me," Laurent said. "This will blow over, sir. Please be as patient as you can."

"Yes," Mamoru said, and went to spend time as ostentatiously as he could with Claudine to try and salve her wounded pride.

It could not blow over quick enough, Mamoru thought, finding himself the object of curiosity again as he had been on his first arrival. Cameras seemed to show up the moment he even thought of leaving the embassy, and arrived at his destination before he did. Ito spent his day writing polite refusals to divulge personal information. Nagi kept his own lists of those who were, he said, too impertinent, leaving them out meaningfully for Mamoru to find.

It came to a head late on the night of one of Claudine's appointments. She had stayed overnight before, and had this time been offered apologies and promised privacy from unwelcome intrusion. Mamoru woke from deep sleep to clumsily fumble with the insistently beeping communicator.

"What?" he said ungraciously. "Claudine-san?"

"Shut up," Nagi mumbled beside him.

"They don't know I have this," she whispered. "Mamoru, something's going on, there was a woman here before, a civil servant who kept telling me about how everyone in the Alliance is free, and how the law could take care of me. She thought I didn't know the language well – I heard her talking to her office about protective orders and the court's rights over infant citizens with foreign parents. Mamoru, don't – someone's coming."

There was only silence. As he heard again her tone as she said his name, bare of honorifics, he felt a cold anger start up in him. Something was wrong. Nagi stirred and sat up.

"What was that?" he said.

"Something's happening at the hospital," Mamoru said, climbing upright. "She's scared. I think they tried to make sure she couldn't get in touch with me. I think they want to keep her or the baby away from me."

"Are we going to go and take her away?" Nagi said. He sounded very awake, as if the possibility of violence had banished sleep.

Mamoru imagined Nagi unleashed. It was a satisfying set of images. He very much hoped someone would be foolish enough to try to stop them.

"I've put up with enough of this," he snapped. "They insult me, they insult her, now they threaten her – I want this finished. Nagi, I want you to –"

Nagi got up and took him by the shoulders. "Just a minute," he said. "Before you give me an order and feel you can't go back on it. You trust me to protect you, don't you?" he said. "And her? I told her I'd protect her."

"Yes," Mamoru said, deciding that he couldn't really wear the clothes he'd dropped on the floor earlier.

"Then trust me now. We're not going there tonight."

"What? We're not leaving her –"

"No," Nagi said, shaking his head. "We're not, of course not. But we're not going to give them the ammunition they need to cast us as unstable persons the courts need to act against. We'll go tomorrow, with Laurent, and he can fight their absurd assumptions. All right? Where's that communicator? Come on, give it to me, if you talk to her again you'll just make the both of you more anxious." He plucked it from Mamoru's hand and contacted Claudine, promising they'd be there in the morning, and broke contact.

"I can't just go back to sleep," Mamoru said.

"No," Nagi said handing back the communicator. "Get hold of Laurent and start him working. We're not going in under-prepared."

The next morning saw Mamoru, Nagi, Laurent and Hayashi on their way to the hospital, all dressed in Alliance-style clothing and looking, as Hayashi said, unremarkable and unthreatening. He glanced at Nagi as he said it, but Nagi had put on his persona of a mild college student along with the dark suit, and looked as harmless as a quiet child. It was clear no one had expected their destination, and the hospital security bewilderedly kept back the few photographers who had followed them. Few people gave them more than a passing glance as they walked quickly to the room number Claudine had given them. She was alone and looked so gratefully pleased to see them that Mamoru cursed himself for not having come sooner.

"Sit, please," he said, seating her down on the edge of the bed and sitting beside her. "There's nothing to worry about, I promise." It was touching, he thought, the way she did not let go of his hands.

"She'll be back soon," Claudine said. "I told her I needed to eat first. Mamoru-sama, she said the most awful things about you -"

Mamoru squeezed her hands, and looked at the untouched breakfast. "There's no need to worry. Look, you haven't eaten anything, I should have brought you something better," he said as lightly as he could. "You can have a good meal once we're home, but you should eat something now. Is any of this edible?" It all looked unappealing to him, but he was encouraged when she took some of the sliced fruit, even though it had browned and dried out.

He looked round as the door opened and a woman with grey-streaked hair came in. She stood, looking at them in obvious surprise.

"This is Ms Chen," Claudine said.

"Ms Chen," Mamoru said politely. "I am Takatori no Mamoru." She stared at him and he could see in her face that she had the same thought more unwary people had voiced outright to him on first meeting, that despite the photos she had not expected him to be so young.

"Mr Takatori, Ms Martin and I need to continue our discussion," she said. "If we could have a few minutes?"

"Don't go," Claudine said, putting a hand on his arm. "I'm sure you would prefer to hear first hand how you are not a fit parent, how the best we can hope for is to have regular visits from persons such as Ms Chen to make sure the child is not being harmed and how I really should accept that I am a deluded fool who has suffered only abuse at your hands."

"You're not helping matters, Ms Martin," Chen said, her lips thinning.

"Please translate for me, Hayashi-san," Mamoru said. "I don't want to be misunderstood. Ms Chen, I understand that you are merely doing your job and it's commendable that you would care about the plight of a stranger to your planet. However, please consider the grounds on which you are here – social and racial prejudices Alliance citizens so frequently hold against people from the Empire. Your office has been misinformed by persons of malicious intent who have cast our relationship in a bad light. Laurent-san can explain the legal ties between Ms Martin and me --" He turned to Laurent, who stepped forward.

"Emile Laurent," he said. "I'm Ambassador Takatori and Ms Martin's legal representative. I saw there was a room next door where I could perhaps lay out documents –"

Chen allowed herself to be steered from the room, frowning. Mamoru took a deep breath, glad he had been able to hold his temper, which he had warned everyone would be possible only for a short time.

"I'm glad you're angry," he said, sitting by Claudine again. "You should be. I didn't think I could talk to that person without shouting."

"Shh," Nagi said, slipping a receiver into his ear. "Laurent's going straight on the attack, listing out every prejudicial remark the press has made since we arrived – I think she's surprised by the number."

"So was I," Mamoru said bitterly. "Hayashi-san, can we just leave now? They can't insist Claudine-san stays, can they?"

"I doubt they have legal grounds," Hayashi said. "If you are ready to go –" he said to Claudine.

"Yes," she said firmly, indicating her packed overnight bag. "Any other tests can wait."

"Chen's just said why her office were called in," Nagi said. "Claudine-san, one of the doctors reported clear signs of sexual and emotional abuse." Mamoru felt glad for the noise of fury Claudine made then, for he thought that if he tried to speak he would scream with rage. "Shh," Nagi said again. "Oh, that's interesting. She's suddenly got very cagey. Laurent sounds happy about that." He listened for a while longer. "He's explaining Claudine-san's legal position, Chen sounds like she swallowed something that disagrees with her – he's wrapping up. Chen's saying that of course Claudine-san can go home, in the Alliance people may come and go as they please." He grinned. "Now I know what to look for in the hospital records." He took out the earpiece and picked up Claudine's bag. "We're ready to go," he said.

Laurent and Chen returned, Laurent looking professionally calm, Chen looking perturbed.

"Aren't you supposed to see your doctor this morning, Ms Martin?" she said.

"I'll reschedule," Claudine said.

She walked out between Mamoru and Hayashi, Nagi leading the way still carrying her bag.

"There are photographers waiting," Hayashi said. "Might I suggest we make them work for us this time?"

"Yes," Mamoru said, taking Claudine's hand. "Let's give them something it's harder to pervert." As they stepped into the white sunlight he smiled at her and got a wide smile in return. They must look, he reflected as the photographers closed in, like a couple that had just received very good news. He put a protective arm about her and steered her through the small crowd, Nagi's power subtly clearing the way for them. It was the work of moments to get everyone into the car and to leave.

Nagi hid himself away, clearly glad to have something to do. Laurent started the business of requesting files to examine. Mamoru settled Claudine and went to wait for Nagi to tell him something they could use. It didn't take long.

"Even if they start changing their records, I have copies of the originals," Nagi said. His expression was not pleasant. "I found the report they made to Chen's office – I can tell you now she'd be crazy to try and follow up on it further. The evidence, the only evidence they've bothered to provide of the supposed sexual abuse of a woman undergoing ante-natal care is that she's pregnant by an imperial man. It's political through and through, and if Chen and her people have any sense they're working to distance themselves from it."

"Someone decided that simply because I'm an imperial and Claudine-san isn't, that I repeatedly raped her?" Mamoru said quietly. He was astonished how clear and sharp-edged everything seemed.

"Yes. I've told Laurent what he should be requesting to see."

"Nagi," Mamoru said, observing from what seemed a very great distance that his voice and hands were shaking, "I want you to kill them. Anyone who said that."

"Yes," Nagi said. "No one will trace it back to us, I promise."

"Don't tell Claudine, she's soft-hearted," Mamoru said. "Let me know when it's done."

He slept long and well that night.

* * *

The Road Towards Kamakura, part III (Weiss Kreuz, Nagi/Mamoru)

2008-09-01T09:30:04Z

Title: The Road Towards Kamakura
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairings: Nagi/Mamoru, Crawford/Schuldig, Mamoru/OFC, Nagi/OFC
Rating: R
Summary: In exile in a distant and unimportant post for his family's crimes, Mamoru builds himself a new life.
Word Count: 61000 words.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to toscas_kiss for beta-reading, and to puddingcat, for her wonderful illustrations! This is a sequel to Sailing to Hirugashima, a science-fiction AU in a space-opera setting. Like that story, it takes its title from place names important to the founding of the Kamakura shogunate.
Sections: I; II; III; IV; V; VI; VII

There was little need to do anything if he didn't want to, but Mamoru dutifully sat behind his desk for part of every workday. For a while after the Children's Festival there was a flurry of interest, interviews and requests for information the embassy staff flocked to deal with, but now it had died away again. The days grew hotter as the summer progressed, till going outside was something done if possible only at night.

"Imagine if we had no air conditioning," Mamoru said, looking down the scant sheet of daily news Ito had given him.

"No fear of that," Hayashi smiled. "Alcmene couldn't run properly if there wasn't reliable air conditioning."

Mamoru put down the sheet of paper, positioning it neatly on his large and empty desk. Once the planet was more populous there'd be more need for an embassy, he thought. In his children's days, or perhaps his grandchildren's. After several months, however, it was time he accepted that for him this was just an exile, subsidized by the government. What, he wondered, could have persuaded an experienced diplomat like Hayashi to come here?

"Hayashi-san," he said. "This is a very quiet posting for a man of your capabilities."

Hayashi smiled in a self –deprecating manner. "Thank you," he said. "I'm no longer a young man, a peaceable job is very pleasant."

"No imperial ships are expected here – ever, as far as we know," Mamoru said. "If we are lucky, there will be only the most limited communication with people from home. Hayashi-san, there is no way for me to directly tell anyone outside the staff any information a staff member shares with me, and I promise you Lt Naoe does not care. Why would you want to come to a dead-end place like this? Surely it's not necessary to have more than Lt Naoe set to watch me?"

Hayashi looked very taken aback at such frank speech. He glanced aside, embarrassed. "Takatori-sama," he said. "Perhaps you'd prefer to go over the day's briefing another time?"

"Tomorrow, next week – it doesn't really matter," Mamoru said. "It's not a real posting, after all."

"Ambassador Takatori," Hayashi started. He took a deep breath, and started again. "The younger staff members," he said, "They are here, no doubt, to get experience outside the empire. Such postings are highly sought after, and almost certainly guarantee promotion when they return. You will forgive me for not speaking of people in particular. For myself –" He looked worried, Mamoru saw. "We're almost all from your home world, Takatori-sama. If you will forgive me, after the unfortunate political events that occurred, the economy was not at its best. The public sector was cutting back, and a man of my age would face compulsory retirement. Younger men could see better times ahead, more desirable positions in their future – as for me, I am long since widowed and have no children. I put my name down for Alcmene."

Mamoru stared at the grain of his desk's surface. It was not real wood, he knew, but it looked so convincing. "I'm truly sorry for my family's actions, Hayashi-san," he said in a low voice. "I'm sorry to have been so rude to you."

"Sir, I didn't mean to criticize your family," Hayashi said.

"It's what we deserve," Mamoru said. "I think I'll go over the briefing with you later." He barely noticed Hayashi leave. He thought of the news broadcasts, his grandfather's bitterness when stories about unemployment aired. His family hadn't just caused havoc among those in power, but had destroyed the lives and fortunes of people they barely knew existed as a class. People like the boy he'd once thought he was. He remembered being called into the living room behind the shop, Ken yelling, "Quick, you're not going to believe this!" and seeing the first broadcasts of troops patrolling imperial cities. The announcer's voice was grave. Martial law has been declared throughout the Hakucho system. Governor Takatori no Reiji-sama accuses seditious elements amongst the population of making such a move necessary. Stability will be restored and the guilty brought to justice --

"Look at the date," Ken had said. "This was months ago – if this is the start of it, what the hell's happening there now?"

There had been no more news for weeks, just the same footage of troops patrolling, arresting people for mysterious infractions of the regulations. The next real news had been of the lifting of martial law and the arrest of the governor and his co-conspirators. Mamoru wished it had ended there for him, that he could have gone on simply agreeing that power corrupted people and expressing thanks that such things couldn't happen on his world. Instead he had to live with what his family had done, the civilian deaths, the damage done to the fabric of society. Now we start again, boy, he heard his grandfather say. There will be no more such mistakes.

"We can't start again, Grandfather," he whispered. "I'm in exile and you're dead. Whatever my father thought he was doing, he's destroyed us all."

It was like a tender spot in his mouth after that, that he could not stop probing. He was driven to find out why the staff had come, if they had felt they had no other choice in the ruins his family had made.

"I very much wished to come, Your Excellency," Ito said, surprising him. "There were not many applicants for my position, and I was pleased to be chosen. It's hard to get such a position in a larger diplomatic mission, and I can hope for promotion in my next posting."

Mamoru felt warmed a little at the thought of one of his staff managing to leave. "You see yourself applying for other places?" he asked.

"Of course in your next posting I should like to continue as your secretary," Ito said.

The man's polite fiction touched Mamoru, though he did not indulge in imagining what things would be like if he could really have expected there to be anything else for him. Maybe, he thought, Nagi and Hayashi were right, and the younger persons on the staff saw this as a positive move. It would not be so painful for him to hear those stories. He turned his attention to Laurent, surprising the man as he drank the local appalling coffee in the staff's dining room.

"Why I came?" Laurent asked, as if the question was in a language he did not quite know. "I was fascinated with the legal system of the Alliance, Takatori-sama, it's why I joined the diplomatic service. To find I might go where I could put my knowledge to use – I jumped at the chance."

"It's hardly one of the Alliance's best systems, and certainly not one of their prize worlds," Mamoru said. "You had perhaps hoped for more."

"We must all start somewhere," Laurent said. "Some day someone will come to ask for a visa to travel to the empire." He smiled.

Mamoru looked at him as he drank; he was tall, with fair hair, like any number of men Mamoru had seen in public on Alcmene. "Laurent-san," he said quietly. "Do you ever wish you lived in the Alliance as one of their citizens? You could specialize in a field of law, live as you wished –"

Laurent looked alarmed, for which Mamoru couldn't blame him. "No, Ambassador Takatori," he said firmly. "I'm very pleased where I am –"

"I'm not trying to lead you astray," Mamoru said sadly. "Thank you, Laurent-san. I should leave you in peace."

"Sir," Laurent said before he could rise. "Takatori-sama – you never make a difference between your staff due to their background. Thank you."

"Oh," Mamoru said, embarrassed, "That sort of behaviour's not right, I've always thought."

"I have a degree from an imperial university," Laurent said. "I can speak the main language the Alliance uses, but it's the imperial language that comes first to mind. I might look like one of them, but I'm a subject of the empire. The Alliance would see the difference you try not to."

Mamoru nodded, and left him alone to finish his break.

Ishikawa was a pleasant surprise. Mamoru blinked a little as the normally shy man laughed. He had a story ready, Mamoru saw – how could he not, the ambassador's latest way of proving himself discomfiting was no doubt the stuff of gossip.

"We were told there were too many accountants," Ishikawa said. "A friend of my father's said he was sure he could find work for me, and I saw how pleased my parents were at the thought. Ambassador Takatori, they'd been introducing me to the most horrific girls and only being a junior person on low wages was saving me as a single man."

"Didn't you want to get married?" Mamoru asked.

"Not to any of them," Ishikawa said firmly. "My father's friend, he had a daughter who was back home after a divorce. Her husband must have run for his life, she was so opinionated! I could see how things were laid out, with a promised job giving a wage that could support a family, and ran for my life." He smiled at Mamoru's amusement. "Alcmene may not be far enough," he said. "She was very tenacious."

"I hope you're not bored as a single man here," Mamoru said.

Ishikawa looked down, smiling. "It's all right, I find."

It was cowardly, Mamoru decided, to put off talking to those who were more likely to have been effected by the economic damage. Kishida was the first he approached.

"It was a good opportunity for me," Kishida said. "There'd be no new posting to a better world, I knew. Those were being reserved for people who came from places untainted by political unrest, and people with families to support. I'm divorced, and my sons are adults – my future at home would have seen me stagnating in a back room with the paycut that all civil and diplomatic service employees were made agree to. What point was there in that? I'm skilled at what I do, and I was offered little more than a basic data-entry position."

Honda, a late middle-aged woman who acted as a secretary to Laurent and Kishida both said regretfully she would not have been able to support herself on the pension offered. Her friend Matthews, who filled the same position for Hayashi and Mori was cheerful to an extreme, mouthing platitudes about hard work and opportunities. Mamoru felt sorry for them both, having had Nagi explain their cases to him. Practically all the older female civil servants had been let go, throughout the system. Matthews, who might have felt herself safe having had a years-long affair with her supervisor, found his wives had taken revenge at last by influencing her transfer to the Alcmene mission. Mori shrugged and said he was getting on and while his record was spotless, everyone knew he'd been a firm supporter of the Takatoris' party in the past.

Martin was composed when he spoke to her, so much so that Mamoru thought he'd surely hear she hoped to find a better job after gaining experience on Alcmene. He'd decided to speak to her after the older staff members for that very reason.

"I asked to come," she said. "I needed a new purpose. After my husband was killed –"

"When was that?" Mamoru said, feeling the ground shift beneath him.

"Two years before we set out, Takatori-sama."

Mamoru sat back, feeling ill. He should have known he'd meet someone who was more terribly affected by his family than those who'd lost their livelihoods. This was it, he thought, this was not something from which he could run, though he longed to say he'd been as horrified by the civilian deaths as anyone, that the thought they'd been targeted at specific populations made him ill. He steadied himself and tried to meet her eyes.

"Martin-san," he said, "I'm so very sorry –"

"Oh, sir, no," she said gently, and Mamoru knew at once exactly how much his staff had been discussing him. "It wasn't due to the unrest, it was a traffic accident. The other driver was drunk."

"But it happened while things were bad," Mamoru said, still faint and ill.

"Yes, Takatori-sama. The army arrested the other driver, and he was put to death." She looked down at her hands. "I didn't want that. His family paid a lot of compensation to my husband's family. When I heard you were coming here, I applied to join the mission. My husband's parents didn't want me to leave, but I couldn't live there any more. My own parents are both dead, so I decided I needed a new life."

"And you ended up here," Mamoru said.

"I can be useful here," she said. "Sir – Takatori-sama, would you like a glass of water?"

"Thank you," Mamoru said. All his staff, he thought, all of them had made as light of their circumstances as they could, for his sake, and now he was making someone recount horrors to satisfy his curiosity. "Thank you," he said again. "I shouldn't keep you." He only really registered she was gone when Nagi leaned upon the table in front of him, and he looked up into Nagi's quiet face. Some time had gone by, he noted, but not much. "Do you think people hoped that if I was confronted with all the damage done just to these people, that I'd realize how much more damage my family did, and solve the continuing problem of my existence by killing myself from shame?" he asked.

"Don't even think of such a course of action," Nagi said fiercely. He tugged Mamoru up and into an embrace. "Why do you take things to heart so much?" he said. "No one here blames you. No, no they don't." He held Mamoru off at arm's length, searching his face intently. "You've been scaring people," he said, "As proved by one of them actually seeking me out, and at a run at that. Martin said you looked terrible, and she was right." He held Mamoru close again. "Don't look so shocked, I told you they all like you despite your terrible taste in friends."

Mamoru smiled weakly against his cheek, as he knew Nagi wanted. "Thank you," he said. "I'm all right now."

"You will be," Nagi said. "You've been dropping now for a while, but you're going to come back up. Things will get better for you. Try, Mamoru."

"All right," Mamoru said. They were all exiles, he thought. He should help them make something of that exile they could call home.

* * *

"Ambassador Takatori," Mori said, "I must speak to you about Ishikawa." He looked embarrassed, as if the words left a bad taste in his mouth.

Mamoru watched him glance at Nagi and away, and said, "Go on."

"He's been living in an apartment a short distance away," Mori said, "It's within the usual specified distance for staff, and he says the cost of transport has been factored in to the budget –"

"I hope this isn't about Ishikawa-san allegedly embezzling money to pay for transport," Mamoru said. "He can hardly be expected to walk in this heat."

"It's more the security risk he poses," Mori said stiffly, as if he did not approve of Mamoru's joke. "He has local friends."

"Oh," Mamoru said. "That's not bad, is it?" He looked between Mori and Nagi for confirmation.

"He has two local girlfriends," Nagi said, frowning a little at Mamoru's twitch of surprise. "There's no suggestion he's spending the embassy's money on them, but Mori and I wonder what he may have let slip. An investigation indicates neither is more than she seems, but neither seems aware of the other. Should that change, one of them might make a public scene, which would make us look bad. Which would undoubtedly cast light on the fact that Ishikawa has also lately –"

"—been keeping company with a young man," Mori said.

"He told me he was enjoying the single life here," Mamoru said. "I see it's true. If it's not interfering with his work, though –"

Nagi slid pictures in front of him, showing two dark-haired plump girls and a dark-haired youth with a round face. "The Alliance has different ideas about many things," he said. "For a start, they'll say the boy is too young. He's left school, but hasn't reached his majority. The women – the tabloids will pull up every stock insult they have."

"Ishikawa-san, of all people," Mamoru said, looking at the pictures. It was embarrassing, to see so clearly the kind of person Ishikawa liked. He pushed them back to Nagi. "Please deal with the issue," he said. "Try not to embarrass him too much over what should be a harmless youthful indiscretion." Mori looked at him like Mamoru was too young himself to talk so, then took his leave. "Lt Naoe," Mamoru said, and Nagi turned back as the door closed after Mori. "Does he think you're my youthful indiscretion?"

"I'd say so," Nagi said easily. "It's a step up from being seen as the monster who forces you to do terrible things to satisfy his desires, don't you think?" He grinned, the brief flash of his smile brightening his face and leaving Mamoru wanting it back after it was gone. "I'll try to spare Ishikawa's blushes," Nagi said, and walked out.

It was some days afterwards that the next budgetary report came to Mamoru. He thanked Ishikawa and read it over quickly, stealing surreptitious glances at the man. Nagi had said Mori dealt with him alone, holding Nagi over him as a vague and dreadful threat. What if Lt Naoe had been the one to find this out? It at least allowed both Ishikawa and him to pretend that Mamoru didn't know.

"Are you sure we can afford this much on O-Bon?" Mamoru asked; the number looked high.

"It was detailed specifically as an annual expense in my briefings," Ishikawa said, not quite looking at Mamoru. He'd retreated to his original shy demeanour ever since Mori had called him in. "That and New Year's are given a large budget for all embassies. If we were on a more important world we'd have more money to spend on it."

"Good," Mamoru said, smiling. He'd always enjoyed O-Bon. "I suppose we'll have to throw a party and invite local dignitaries. It might be too hot to dance outside, though."

"We'd be able to do it for a while, maybe late at night," Ishikawa said wistfully. "Who should I give the numbers to, sir?"

"Kishida-san and Hayashi-san, I suppose," Mamoru said. "We should make sure it isn't just the development council that are invited, I'm sure they can suggest names. And the staff should invite any local friends they wish, too." He looked at Ishikawa's glum expression and knew he'd bring neither girl to the party, and certainly wouldn't bring the boy. Hayashi had already told him Ishikawa had requested permission to live in the embassy quarters once more, citing a desire to save money. The threat of Nagi's disapproval was potent, Mamoru thought. It was a shame to have destroyed Ishikawa's fun so very thoroughly, but Mori and Nagi knew their jobs and it wasn't Mamoru's place to gainsay them.

The staff were happy to prepare for the celebrations, far from their families' graves though they were. The food in the staff dining room for days in advance was practice runs for the reception, the cooks adapting the unfamiliar recipes to the local ingredients.

"You won't fit in your uniform," Mamoru said, seeing Nagi with yet another snack.

"Don't worry, I'll stop before I get so fat Ishikawa starts fancying me," Nagi said. He looked slyly at Mamoru's surprise. "What, I'm not allowed make jokes during work hours?"

"That wasn't very nice," Mamoru said, prim lest he laugh. "Back to business: Hayashi-san says we should continue to refer only to 'summer celebrations', in case we offend any of the guests."

"It would be so terrible if they thought we weren't wearing pretty clothes and putting on fireworks for any other reason than pleasing them," Nagi agreed. "I suppose you wouldn't be keen on celebrating your ancestors anyway."

"Again, not very nice," Mamoru said, reading over the schedule of entertainments yet again.

"I'll make sure everyone toes the line and is decorative, quaint and harmless," Nagi said. "Would you like something to eat?"

"I'm already sick of party food," Mamoru said plaintively. "If the cooks can spare some, let's have nice, plain rice later."

"Sybarite," Nagi muttered, falling into professional taciturnity as Hayashi came in.

"The final replies have come in," he said. "Everyone invited will attend, except for one press writer." He looked disapproving as he added, "He of course has suggested his invitation was some sort of bribe."

"I suppose it's a change from demanding we shouldn't be allowed think of our forebears who so cruelly and unethically seized Alliance worlds," Mamoru said. After the last opinion column objecting to their presence, let alone their intention to keep a cultural custom Nagi had had suggestions for how to deal with such troublemakers, none of which were entirely diplomatic. Mamoru just hoped no one said anything rash in public once the party started.

In the event, his fears were unfounded. The catering staff glowed with achievement as people ate their carefully prepared food, and wore their new imperial style clothing well. The staff were relaxed and friendly to the guests, even Nagi seemed to be having a good time. Mamoru was grateful for his efforts, and pleased Nagi had so readily agreed to forego his uniform for the evening. It was a relief, Mamoru thought, that they were such a small embassy, and that Alcmene had so few dignitaries; it made for a much less fraught situation. The guests from the development council were polite and enthusiastic about the food and Hayashi's carefully chosen images of beauty spots on imperial worlds, those from the press discreetly took some pictures, and whispered overly-poetic descriptions of clothing into their recorders.

"They understand us so well; all the women on staff manage to be both willowy and like porcelain dolls, while we men have laid aside our usual taciturn warrior natures to enjoy the evening," Nagi murmured after he passed one reporter on his way to stand by Mamoru.

"Please tell me you're joking," Mamoru winced, but Nagi was gone again, leaving Mamoru with Kaminski, the head of the planetary development council.

Mamoru was exhausted when the final guests left, but pleased at how well everything had gone. He avoided Ito's plea to drink just one more glass with the staff, and slipped back to his apartments, finding Nagi by his side.

"Everyone behaved themselves well," Nagi said, as they stood in the peace of Mamoru's room.

"No work for you to do as political officer," Mamoru teased. "You must be disappointed."

"Devastated." Nagi started untying Mamoru's obi, only the slight look of concentration showing he'd had anything to drink. "Are you sorry you couldn't pay your respects at your family grave?" he said.

"Yes," Mamoru sighed. "Though I have the family shrine, that's something." He wondered where would he get more incense, once he ran out. Perhaps his enemies gloated that he was exiled from proper devotions and respect to his relatives.

"Mmm," Nagi said. "Families. Awkward things. We don't have them, in the Corps." He stopped, as if he'd said something he hadn't meant to. Mamoru waited; Nagi never said anything much about his training or the Psi-Corps, dropping only the smallest nuggets of information. He looked unsmiling into Mamoru's face. "Ask me again," he said.

"About what?" Mamoru said.

"About families, about wanting me in yours."

Mamoru flung his arms around him and crushed him tight, all gloomy thoughts forgotten.

"I said ask, not strangle me," Nagi wheezed. "I might sober up at any moment, you know."

"Will you join my family?" Mamoru said in a rush, squeezing tighter.

"Oh, all right," Nagi said, so studiously off-hand that they both started to laugh.

"What's different about now?" Mamoru said.

"I'm tipsy. I decided I could outwit most spies your enemies might someday send. I thought it would make you happy. But we keep things quiet – there's no point in attracting undue attention."

"Yes, whatever you want," Mamoru said, pleased. "Whatever makes you happy."

"It would make me happy if someone got a move on and started undressing me," Nagi said, pushing Mamoru's yukata off his shoulders, his usually-brief smile staying firmly on his face as Mamoru gladly obeyed.

* * *

Hayashi looked at first horrified, then coolly, falsely calm. Mamoru tried to seem as naively harmless as possible.

"We both trust and respect you very much, Hayashi-san," he said. "That's why I'm asking you to witness this."

"Respectfully, Takatori-sama," Hayashi said, "You're asking because you think someone like me would be a reliable witness should your circumstances change and you have the chance to ever publicly acknowledge this folly."

Mamoru felt sure such frankness could only be the result of shock. "I had thought that," he admitted, "But let us be realistic, my circumstances won't change. Lt Naoe has no interest in them changing – Hayashi-san, we're not trying to draw you into trouble –"

"You've persuaded a Psi-Corps officer to join your cause," Hayashi said. "Sir, you are in trouble whether you admit it or not."

"It's a private matter, he'll still be known by his own name," Mamoru said. "Truly, there's nothing political in our intent, he's my very dear friend."

Hayashi looked mulishly at the carpet. "This is dangerous for both you and Lt Naoe," he said. "Forgive me, Takatori-sama, but he gains no advantage from your family."

"He's not doing it for advantage," Mamoru said. "He's doing it to please me." He hated the way his voice sounded, he thought, like a child insisting on the happy-ever-after everyone knew life did not provide.

Hayashi looked at him seriously, then away. "The optimism of youth," he sighed. "You're both younger and more foolish than you can allow yourselves see, and you pretend you are not what you are. I should have advised you better when you tried on previous occasions to speak of him. If I refuse, will Lt Naoe remember what he is?"

"He wouldn't hurt you," Mamoru said too quickly, thinking though he tried not to of how much Nagi hated loose ends and potential risks.

"You are not sure," Hayashi said. "That at least is something. Don't be blind, Takatori-sama, just because you own a knife doesn't mean it will never cut you."

"He wouldn't let me commit treason," Mamoru said. "You know that, Hayashi-san." He had to prevent Nagi from killing the man, he thought, watching Hayashi run fingers, distracted, though his grey hair. "We'd be very grateful to you." Hayashi looked in silence at the floor, as if it held some secret.

"It's strange," Hayashi said at last. "When I was a young man I always thought that I'd have the strength to act properly if confronted with an impossible situation but I seem to have become a coward as I grew older. Please tell Lt Naoe I will give him no cause to worry."

"Thank you, Hayashi-san," Mamoru said, feeling as if he had been holding his breath and had released it all at once. "I'm sorry to have damaged your regard for me," he went on regretfully, sorry to have put a breach between them. He'd liked the growing ease with all his staff and wished he had not hurt it.

"You're an unusual young man, Takatori-sama," Hayashi said. "I have never wished you anything but the best and that has not changed." His smile was professionally polite. "And you have bound me to you quite neatly. There is, perhaps, hope for you. If you would excuse me?"

Mamoru watched him leave, trying not to grin in triumph. He counted to ten after the door closed, though he was sure Hayashi was not the type to lower himself to listening in secret, then pulled out his communicator, impatiently tapping his fingers on his desk till Nagi answered.

"He'll do it," Mamoru said, and laughed in purest pleasure at the sound Nagi made in response.

It was a simple enough matter at the end of it all, he thought, standing in what Nagi assured him was the most private of their reception rooms, scrolling down through the bureaucratic forms, touching his seal to the proper places, Nagi and Hayashi following suit.

"None of this is legal until recorded by an Imperial registry," Hayashi said, quiet and mild.

"The embassy is imperial territory," Mamoru said.

"—and we're registering it with you," Nagi added, calling up another set of forms. He smiled at Mamoru as Hayashi started filling them out. "It's rather anti-climactic," he said. "Shouldn't we be dressed in our best clothes and make dramatic vows?"

"How dramatic?" Mamoru said, taking his hands.

Nagi grinned and sank to his knees. "I will consider your honour the light by which I guide all my actions," he said. "My own life I will count as nothing and count my fate as lucky to die by your side in the hopes that we will be reborn together . . . don't get used to this," he finished, and bowed neatly down to the floor.

"Where did you get that from?" Mamoru said, trying to stop laughing.

"A local novel that is accurate in all its depictions of imperial life," Nagi said into the carpet. He sat back up again. "That was just a paraphrase, it went on for pages, though I suppose that might have been the fault of the translation software."

A soft sound made them both turn to Hayashi, temporarily forgotten. He stared at them as if they were exotic new lifeforms, blinking as Nagi gave him a look of challenge and came smoothly back to his feet to take Mamoru in a sudden, hard embrace.

"How old are you, Takatori no Nagi?" Hayashi said.

"Nineteen," Nagi said, his tone pleased at hearing his new name. Mamoru supposed it was not really a lie as there were less than six weeks to Nagi's birthday.

"Children," Hayashi said, shaking his head. He pressed his seal to the last section of the form. The pad beeped in satisfaction. "I pray you have the time to grow up."

* * *

"You're smiling foolishly again."

Mamoru kept his eyes closed and deliberately smiled as foolishly as he could up at the ceiling, feeling Nagi roll over beside him. "As long as I'm not doing it during work hours or in front of the locals."

"Trust me, you're doing it at work. You're a bit better in facing the locals. A bit."

"I'm a very pleasant young man, haven't you read the papers? – and the staff must think you're making me very happy," Mamoru said in deep satisfaction. He tried to look even more smug the poke in the ribs that got him. "Do you want to try a restaurant again tonight?"

"Hmm," Nagi said, sounding sleepy. "Heating frozen food or having someone else cook – and possibly spit in the dish. Which sounds more appealing to you?"

"I'm sure they didn't spit," Mamoru said, raising himself on his elbow and peering at Nagi's relaxed face. He hoped it hadn't happened, anyway. The Alliance had a number of festival days near the New Year, and the embassy was closed for what seemed to Mamoru like the most wonderfully lazy amount of time. The downside was the lack of freshly prepared food – though the kitchen staff had left enough frozen food to feed dozens of people, and the leftovers from the New Year's celebrations still lurked in the freezers, Mamoru and Nagi had already gone to restaurants for two dinners and a lunch. It was probably too much to hope that Nagi hadn't come across the article in a celebrity magazine that made much of Mamoru dining "alone", despite Nagi clearly being in the pictures. It would have been worse, Mamoru decided, for the magazine to have printed something close to the truth - Nagi kept too close an eye on the press, and loved the stories that made Mamoru wince or blush. The same magazine had included him in a list of eligible bachelors, something Mamoru had discovered after Nagi had printed out copies of the article and left them in places Mamoru couldn't miss. The pointed, frequently barbed, sense of humour was something Nagi had shown when they first met, and it cheered Mamoru to think it was another part of Nagi that had not been assumed, that was the simple truth.

"What's so funny?" Nagi said, suspicion colouring his voice.

"You are. Ah!"

Nagi folded his hands on his chest and looked meekly surprised, as if the unseen force poking and tickling at Mamoru had nothing to do with him.

"Let's stay in and heat something up," Mamoru gasped when Nagi finally deigned to show mercy. "We don't have to get up all day."

"Lazy. We have to get up for at least half an hour."

They did, eventually, and set out food in the small kitchen, Nagi suddenly too hungry, it seemed to even bring it into the dining room. Mamoru watched Nagi eat standing up; he was no longer surprised at how much he could go through. I burn it up, Nagi had said, off-hand, when first they met. Mamoru had thought he must play some sport for his college, and wondered what it could be. He blinked to find Nagi watching him back.

"You really would make a terrible spy," Nagi said, a small, familiar joke that made them both smile. He searched in his bowl and picked up the most appetizing bite of meat, holding it out for Mamoru to eat from his chopsticks. He looked solemnly pleased at Mamoru's appetite, and fed him another bite and another. Mamoru fed him morsels too; it felt warm and intimate and made him want to hurry back to bed.

"I told you things could only improve," Nagi said, putting down his bowl. "You haven't been unhappy recently, have you?"

Mamoru decided it would be foolish to admit he had carefully avoided thinking about such things, in case merely noticing damaged his good mood. The first, relieved happiness he'd felt at being safe was back, he decided, but deeper and more secure. "There's no work to speak of, but I've made friends," he said. "And you don't seem to be getting bored."

"I worked hard to get us here, it would be a shame to lose interest," Nagi said, a touch of his ability cupping at Mamoru's cheek before sweeping down his body in a way that made him shiver. Nagi's understatements, Mamoru thought, were a lot better than fervent declarations from anyone else.

"I'm just sorry to have distressed Hayashi-san," he said, trying to lean against the invisible force.

"Oh, he'll come round. He's just protective of you, that's all. He just needs to accept that I'm protective too." He put his arms round Mamoru, squeezing tight.

"You've done everything I wanted," Mamoru said. "I want to please you too, you know."

"You came here without complaint. You trusted me," Nagi said, still holding on. "Even when you knew what I was and must have thought I'd betrayed you, you still saw me. That's more –" he stopped, his face pink, and kissed Mamoru as an end to the sentence.

"Another few weeks and we'll have been here a year," Mamoru said, when Nagi was leaning quietly against him. It was a kindness to change the subject, he thought, now familiar with Nagi's odd shynesses. "You'll be glad to see the weather get warm again after the winter." He felt Nagi's amused, brief laugh. Winter on Alcmene was merely bearably hot, compared to the late spring and summer's blazing heat. Nagi laughed again as Mamoru took his hands and rubbed them, as if they needed to be warmed.

"We should go back to bed before we catch a chill," Nagi said, pretending to blow on his fingers.

Mamoru took his hand and pulled him eagerly from the kitchen.

* * *

"There's no more to report, Takatori-sama," Hayashi said. Beside him Ito bowed silently.

Mamoru sighed and stood up, turning away from his empty desk. "Well then," he said, "Let's call it a day. Or a week. Unless you think something requiring any of us to work will occur?"

"Perhaps a short break might be a good idea," Hayashi said.

"If there are any refurbishments needed, we could close down to let them take place," Ito said.

Mamoru had the feeling they felt sorry for his forced inactivity, and struggled not to let his annoyance show. At least Hayashi seemed to have forgiven him, he thought. He gave the briefest nod to acknowledge their bows. Perhaps he would ask Ishikawa if they could afford any new furniture or decorating. Perhaps, he mused, he would do something more productive and find himself a job. He hated his recurring realization that things would not change, that all their diligence was only for their self-respect, not for any real purpose. He should use the time to learn more of the local language, he decided. He'd been letting his study slip.

"Another coffee?" he asked at lunch, firm in his resolve to improve his grasp of the language.

Nagi blinked, and said something, too fast to follow. Then he took pity and said, slowly and clearly, "No thanks, I'll have water, I'm tired of coffee." He took the glass Mamoru got him, adding in their own language, "My accent's not as good as Hayashi's, you shouldn't take me as a good example."

"Huh," Mamoru said, wiping up spilled drops of water. "We're doing all right here, don't you think? And people will be starting to forget I exist?"

"I suppose," Nagi said, a little warily. "Why?"

"I was just thinking – if any of the staff wanted to do something else. Language teaching, say, or translations – would that be all right? There's sort of an air of desperation amongst them some days."

"Ah. Have you found any openings in flower shops?" Nagi said. He sounded more sympathetic than Mamoru had hoped. "If you're really worried about the staff, yes, I think language classes would be a good use of some of their time. You, however –" he thought about it. "Some travel, perhaps? Demanding a place as an observer on the planetary development council?"

"Right. They'd think the empire had designs on Alcmene. There has to be something I can do to improve my family's situation."

Nagi sipped his water. "You are the family. And me, of course. Improve your own situation, Mamoru."

"How do I make us look attractive enough for someone to ally with us?" Mamoru said, half to himself. "A disgraced name, a posting on such an out-of-the-way world, only one person left to the family officially – we need allies in case things get worse. Don't we?"

"It couldn't hurt," Nagi said. "I suppose I have friends, if we could find them." He looked down into his now empty glass, running a finger round the edge. "What have you got to offer allies?"

"I've been thinking - it's like you said, my grandfather still had people who might back the family, if we looked like we could ever be something again. There's a chance for us there, I hope. I might be too much of a risk, but if my son was seen to be blameless, and running things well here –"

"Ah," Nagi said. "I know you want to build the family up, Mamoru, but can you be that patient?"

"If I had something to work towards," Mamoru said.

Nagi was quieter for longer than usual. "Takatori children," he said at last. "You want to get married. Do you want me to as well?" He stood, brushing off Mamoru's hand. "You'll need to look among families your grandfather would have passed by in the street," he said briskly. "There's no point in thinking you can aim as high as your father's generation would have thought their right. Someone perhaps a little desperate, who is willing to gamble their daughter's life on your continued existence. To get even that, you'll need to look better than you do – you need to act as if you're totally secure, as if you don't think anything will happen to you more than already has." He walked over to refill his cup with the coffee he'd said he didn't want. "I think you need to already be a family man," he said, the air seeming to Mamoru like the dead still before a storm. "You should have a child. Given the technology available on this planet, you'll need a concubine."

"Nagi –" Mamoru said.

"Of course, you probably don't want to just pick some woman from the dross of the local population," Nagi said, as if he hadn't spoken. "I doubt you want Ishikawa to give you advice on them. You'll want someone who can speak the language and doesn't have stupid Alliance ideas about a woman's place. Honda and Matthews are too old, they probably can't have children. It'll have to be Martin."

He turned to face Mamoru, challenge in his face. Mamoru cleared his throat.

"Does Martin-san get a say in this?"

"I don't see why she should," Nagi said, flat and quick.

"I can't just –"

"She's a subject of the empire. She'll do as you say." Nagi took a deep breath. "Look, I'm not saying you should force her – just think about the benefits, and put them to her. You'd be gaining children to support the family, who couldn't threaten the main line of inheritance. Who could protect any children you eventually have from wives. She's not a bad choice – she's good at her job, her work with schools here has improved your image. Once the press finds out, which they will once she's pregnant, she'll at least look less alien to them. Martin likes you, she probably wants children herself anyway."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic," Mamoru said, thinking it sounded as if Nagi was talking himself into something he found distasteful.

"I didn't think it'd be so soon," Nagi said, and turned away again.

"Forget I said anything," Mamoru said, embracing him.

"You need allies," Nagi said. "You're right. You may never find someone to give you their daughters, so take the chance you have. Do you want to end up with some Alliance girl who would never be let forget her origins?"

"No," Mamoru said. "I don't. I'll talk to Martin-san."

"We'll talk to her together," Nagi said firmly. His smile was not at all reassuring. "You both need to know you're not giving me up."

* * *

"I've always appreciated the work you've put in to the education programmes, Martin-san," Mamoru said. "You and Kishida-san have no doubt helped the young people of this planet to better understand the empire and its customs."

"Thank you, Takatori-sama," Martin said, bowing as low as the table would allow. Other diners looked at them askance, as if he had required something servile of her. Mamoru kept a faint smile on his face and took the smallest sip of his overpriced wine. It had seemed a good idea to have dinner in the most pleasant of the restaurants he and Nagi had eaten in together, something that might be a simple reward of a hard-working member of his staff. He and Hayashi had eaten lunch in similar restaurants, after all. Now however, it seemed like the most stupid of mistakes. How could he say anything personal here?

"Please, eat," he said, and surreptitiously watched her pick nervously at her meal. Beside him, Nagi made an impatient noise and hacked at his main course with deliberate violence. None of them said anything for a few minutes, then, "Martin-san –" Mamoru said.

"Martin –" Nagi said at the same moment.

She looked between them, a worried expression on her face. "Yes, Takatori-sama? Lt Naoe?"

"This is the worst place –" Nagi started. He visibly calmed himself and said, "Martin, let me begin by saying I consider your loyalty to be impeccable –"

"Lt Naoe," Mamoru hissed, aghast at the sight of the blood draining from Martin's face. "He means it," he said hurriedly. "You're under no investigation, I promise you."

"I was reassuring her," Nagi muttered, sawing at his steak once more before glaring at it in hatred. "Stupid, barbaric eating implements," he said viciously, putting his knife and fork down with exaggerated gentleness. He bowed slightly. "Please forgive me, Martin-san," he said, more politely than Mamoru had heard from him since they had first met. "I'm out of sorts, and you are in no way to blame."

Mamoru did not look at the other diners, and ate another few mouthfuls while wishing he was somewhere else. "You're perhaps right, Lt Naoe," he said, and was relieved to see Nagi look calmer yet. "Let's finish our meal, and we can go somewhere more peaceful." They ate in silence, Martin rarely raising her eyes from her plate. When they rose to leave Mamoru was sure people looked at him and Nagi as if they had done something terrible.

"The embassy, I think," he said as they reached the car.

"Yes," Nagi said firmly, and slid into the driver's seat.

Martin hesitated, then got into the back quickly as Mamoru held the door open for her. She said nothing, just looked at her hands folded neatly in her lap for the entire journey, seeming to draw in on herself to give him more space. Nagi caught his eye in the mirror and Mamoru saw he was as awkwardly embarrassed as Mamoru himself.

"I'll make sure you get safely home," Mamoru said as Nagi parked the car. "There's something I want to discuss with you first, though, Martin-san."

"Yes," she said politely, and followed them into the residency.

Mamoru led the way through one of the reception rooms laid out in Alliance style, to one of the smaller, more private ones with imperial style furnishings. Nagi went to their kitchen, and returned quickly with a carefully hoarded flask of heated sake that he set out neatly on the low table before kneeling. Mamoru knelt at the head of the table and after another moment's hesitation, Martin knelt opposite Nagi, taking up the flask and pouring cups for him and Mamoru. Nagi reached across to take the flask and pour for her, which made her sink back in nervous silence.

"Martin-san," Mamoru said, "Please drink with us." He felt a little better as she obeyed, then refilled the cups. "You're an excellent worker," he said, "How are you fitting in to life on this world, Martin-san?"

"My neighbours are very pleasant," she said, "And my flat is quite comfortable. It is all right that I live in this area, isn't it?" she went on, sounding worried. "My salary allows it quite easily."

"Yes, yes of course," Mamoru said. "Do you enjoy it?"

"Yes," she said. "It's interesting, though I wish it was easier to buy familiar foods."

"And you've made friends? You haven't faced prejudice for being part imperial – I'm not mistaken in that, am I?"

"No, Ambassador Takatori. My mother's mother was an imperial. As for friends, my neighbours have a little girl," she said. "I've taught her to count in our language, and her parents have invited me to eat with them."

"Have you made any special friends?"

Nagi sighed impatiently, and Martin looked back and forth between them in something like panic.

"No, Takatori-sama," she said. "Just acquaintances, really."

Mamoru felt the resulting silence too thick to break, then saw with horror that Nagi had lost patience and drawn breath to speak. He leant forward, hoping to forestall him.

"Martin-san," he said, "My family is in somewhat straitened circumstances, as you know." He smiled reassuringly as she nodded warily. "I myself was not implicated in the events leading to these circumstances, as Lt Naoe can tell you."

"That's correct," Nagi said brusquely.

"Martin-san, it's my hope that the Takatori family can rebuild its position, and continue to serve the empire for generations to come," Mamoru said. He felt a little light-headed, and couldn't quite look either her or Nagi in the eye. "It's my duty to ensure the family's continuation," he went on. "Though I am a young man, I feel I should not delay in my duty to my family even though the circumstances are such that I cannot yet search for a suitable family to ally with. Martin-san, if you wouldn't mind – that is, if you have no special friends you prefer to take into consideration, I wanted to ask –"

Her expression was one of dawning horror. Nagi clicked his tongue in annoyance. Mamoru reached over to lay a hand lightly over hers, feeling how tightly they were clenched in her lap. "Martin-san," he said quietly, "I would never compel you, nor would I treat you differently in any way if you say no. This is still private, between us."

She didn't look at him as she said, "You want me to bear a child for you, sir?" She took a breath. "Would you want the procedure carried out in a medical facility or did you intend to provide me more privately with –" her voice trailed off.

"Oh. No, no that's not what I mean," Mamoru said. "I don't want to hire your womb, I want to do this properly, decently – I'd be very glad if you accepted a place, a permanent place in my household, Martin-san. I wouldn't just take your child from you. You'd be acknowledged before everyone."

He thought her hands unclenched a little.

"But what about Naoe-san?" she said, then her eyes widened in horror at what she'd said, and she dragged her hands from beneath Mamoru's to bury her face in them.

"Oh, for –" Nagi muttered, and leant forward towards her. "I will not harm you," he said. "You'll be under my protection."

She didn't seem any less worried by that, Mamoru saw, though she had at least uncovered her face.

"Martin-san," Nagi said sharply, "You needn't fear me – I know you are too respectable a person to take a place that isn't your own." He seemed satisfied at what he saw in her face, for his voice was more quiet as he said, "This is sudden, but consider the advantages – you would not wish to go through life without marrying again, I'm sure, but your choices are limited unless you wish to marry a local. Your children will be imperial citizens, and have a great family's name, and while they will not be in the main line of descent they'll be the eldest of Mamoru's children. No one can ever take your status as the mother of his first child."

She looked from him to Mamoru again. "You wouldn't take the child from me?" she said.

"No," Mamoru said. "You'd both be in my household, in my family. Anything in my power to do for you, I will." He found he was holding his breath then, waiting for her to speak.

"I'm honoured by your request, Takatori-sama," she said at last. "Please forgive my foolish hesitation." She bowed deeply to him. "I very much appreciate your goodwill, Naoe-san," she said to Nagi, and bowed to him as well.

"You can use my name," Nagi said. See? his expression seemed to say as he shot Mamoru a glance. I can be capable of grace. Mamoru was glad to see that Martin was sensible enough to simply stay silent. "Well," Nagi said in a satisfied voice, "Will I see about having you sent home safely?"

"Thank you," Martin said in a small voice. She watched him leave, then cast silent, sidelong glances at Mamoru.

"Thank you," Mamoru said. "We'll do this properly, I promise. No one will ever have cause to slight you." He beckoned her closer, put an arm about her shoulders and carefully touched his lips to hers. "Don't be afraid of me," he said.

"You've always been kind, Takatori-sama," she whispered, her voice shaking.

"Mamoru," he said. "It's Mamoru."

"Mamoru-sama," she said, looking down shyly, and said no more till Nagi came back to take her home.

Mamoru drank the rest of the flask of sake, waiting for Nagi to return. It seemed like a long and tedious wait, but when he checked the time as Nagi opened the door, it had only been fifteen minutes. Nagi knelt by him and took him in his arms, kissing him possessively.

"I didn't frighten her on the way home," he said.

"You frighten her."

"I frighten everyone. I'm used to it. I was very nice, really." Nagi smoothed his hands over Mamoru's hair. "We all just have to get used to things, I suppose. If I don't, remind me this was my idea."

"All right," Mamoru said.

He didn't know if he felt anything at all.

* * *

It had to be open, now that Martin had agreed, Mamoru thought. He went over his personal budget with Ishikawa, seeing what sort of money he had left to his name and what he could spend, and told Ito to make sure a third room was ready for personal use in the residency, and had him call up information on inheritance laws. He decided to speak frankly to Hayashi first.

"Hayashi-san," he said. "I'm going to change my will, to provide for Martin-san." Hayashi hid his surprise well, Mamoru thought. "I'm taking her as a concubine," he said, "I want her position acknowledged, I want her protected if anything should happen."

Hayashi nodded, and fetched Laurent, and as Mamoru had hoped, began the task of discreetly making sure the staff knew the news. Laurent gave no indication he had an opinion of any kind whatsoever, for which Mamoru was grateful, and simply took the numbers Ishikawa had provided and did as Mamoru asked. Finally, in the afternoon, he had Ito ask Martin to see him, and sat back, thinking that between her private agreement and the now common knowledge of the staff, she was unlikely to be able to change her mind.

"Takatori-sama," he heard, and looked up.

"Mamoru," he prompted politely.

"Mamoru-sama," she said, and sat as he waved towards a chair.

"I'm told that a room will be made suitable for you by the end of the week," he said. "There are plenty of rooms, but proper furniture needs to be bought, and it could be made much nicer for a female occupant."

"The end of the week," she said, calmly. "Yes."

"Whatever you need, please purchase it and give the bill to Ito-san. He can give you money now. Please also let him know about moving your belongings from your current accommodation."

"Yes," she said again.

Her calm tone unsettled him, as if she had something planned he didn't know about. Nagi had been horribly full of advice the previous evening, all expressed in terms of stealing marches and destroying enemies. It was something to consider though, Mamoru thought, even if Nagi just hated to lose and didn't want any idea of his to fail no matter how much he disliked it. The whole situation was unsettling, and he and Nagi were both as trapped in it as Martin, he thought. Nagi was too proud to admit it was a mistake, and would probably be offended if Mamoru said so. Which he couldn't, he thought, without shaming Martin utterly. They all had to act as if it were not a mistake, he decided. He and Nagi would have had to go through something like this sooner or later, and it was better to get used to it with someone who liked him as much as any of the staff did, and whom Nagi approved of. And who did not have a family to complain to if things went badly. He recoiled from the thought. I am not like my family, he thought. Not like that. He could be better than that.

"Claudine-san," he said, pleased that won him a direct look. "Won't you have dinner with me tonight? If you like we can eat in a restaurant, or at home. It's late, let's call it a day, and you can think about what you'd like to do," he said, ushering her from the office and towards the corridor that connected to the residency.

"I'd rather not go to a restaurant," she said.

"That's fine, we can have something sent from the kitchen, let's eat soon," he said, wondering if she was thinking of Nagi's performance the last time. He couldn't really blame her, he thought. "Have some wine," he said, after sending a message to the kitchen about the meal.

"Thank you," she said, still calm. She took the glass and waited for him to drink before taking a sip of her own. Perhaps, Mamoru thought, she had simply lost all hope and assumed he would treat her badly. It wounded his pride, and he found himself deciding some at least of Nagi's advice should be followed.

"Claudine-san," he said. "Please stay tonight."

She put her glass down gently. "Mamoru-sama, I have a great deal to prepare –"

"It's all right," he said, moving to sit closer. "I'd like you to see you don't need to worry about anything." She sighed, very softly, as he kissed her. "Please be at ease," Mamoru said.

"Naoe-san –" she said, and stopped.

It seemed unnecessarily blunt to say Nagi had discussed the matter with him and had promised his absence the whole evening. "I'm very fond of Naoe-san and he is fond of me too," Mamoru said, "He's not a person who should worry you, Claudine-san. Don't regret your agreement, please."

"Sir," she said in a sudden rush, "Your father was –"

"I'm not like him," Mamoru said, "I wasn't involved in any of his crimes."

"He was a system governor, sir," she said firmly. "Someone like me would not be seen as suitable in any way for you."

"I would not have been seen as suitable, if there were any other family members left," Mamoru said. "I'm just a useful bastard, after all." He smiled ruefully at her expression. "It's all right, it's not as if it's a secret. I'm not exactly what the Takatori family would like, but I'm what it has."

"I can't be what you would like," she said. "Older, a widow –"

"You're a sensible, respectable person. I hope I don't appear to make differences because of anyone's origins." He smiled at her quick shake of the head. "Let's be open, Claudine-san. I wish there were no discrimination and I try not to be prejudiced, but I can't pretend that if we were at home that I'm sure what I'd do."

"Things are different here," she said cautiously. "Kishida-san and the others treat people like me very fairly."

"Even if you're the person who ends up holding glasses of water for your infamous new superior who has been silly enough to stand out in the sun?" Mamoru teased gently.

"You were very polite even then," she said, then, "I loved my husband, Mamoru-sama. When he died, I told myself I could never feel the same for anyone else."

"And I love Naoe-san," Mamoru said, pleased by her ability to speak frankly, at least when Nagi was not present. "Neither of us wishes to erase anything important to the other, but we can also give each other something good, and be kind to each other. Can't we? Is this really such an awful thing? It's just us here, speak freely, I'll respect your decision."

"It would be kind if you didn't mind me working," she said after a moment.

"Oh." Mamoru blinked. "My allowance is enough to support you."

"The embassy is quiet," she said, "But there is work for me to do in the education and cultural outreach department, and it's a good and useful thing."

No doubt his enemies would find such an idea ridiculous and would claim he needed to allow her to work, Mamoru thought. It was something that his family would have baulked at, back in the empire. So, for that matter, was Nagi. He looked at her hopeful expression, and grinned. It really was yes, he thought.

"Things are different here," he said. "We can do things as we wish."

She put a hand lightly in his. "Perhaps you could ask that the food be sent later, Mamoru-sama," she said.

He tightened his fingers and rose, drawing her with him. "Yes," he said. "I can do that indeed."

* * *

The Road Towards Kamakura, part II (Weiss Kreuz, Nagi/Mamoru)

2008-09-01T09:26:04Z

Title: The Road Towards Kamakura
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairings: Nagi/Mamoru, Crawford/Schuldig, Mamoru/OFC, Nagi/OFC
Rating: R
Summary: In exile in a distant and unimportant post for his family's crimes, Mamoru builds himself a new life.
Word Count: 61000 words.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to toscas_kiss for beta-reading, and to puddingcat, for her wonderful illustrations! This is a sequel to Sailing to Hirugashima, a science-fiction AU in a space-opera setting. Like that story, it takes its title from place names important to the founding of the Kamakura shogunate.
Sections: I; II; III; IV; V; VI; VII

The government buildings were made of the same thick stone walls as the embassy, though on a larger scale. Mamoru made his speech, listened attentively to Kaminski make his – it was, as Hayashi had predicted, full of platitudes about helping their cultures understand each other – and smiled till his jaw ached as picture after picture was taken of Kaminski and him shaking hands. Hayashi seemed pleased with his performance, Mamoru thought, as did Naoe, who looked very self-contained and distinguished in the grey suit. Finally the formalities seemed to be over, and the reception was held, Mamoru being introduced to politicians, businesspeople and investors in the planet's future growth. He hoped that between them his staff would remember all the names, which quickly blurred into one forgettable mass in his mind. Dotted around the room he noted the staff who had accompanied him talking to other guests, and felt jealous of their skill in the local language. Hayashi had been right to suggest bringing Laurent and Martin, Mamoru thought, seeing both of them holding their own in conversation. Laurent, tall and fair-haired, stood out in the crowd, and Martin moved easily from conversation to conversation. She definitely had some imperial ancestry, Mamoru thought watching her, and wondered if it counted for or against her in the eyes of her workmates.

He had one blessed minute when he was not being introduced to anyone, and then one of the planetary development council took him by the elbow and steered him away from the crowd. Mamoru caught Naoe's movement out of the corner of his eye and hoped mayhem was not about to be unleashed.

"Hayashi-san," Mamoru called, "This gentleman wants to speak to me."

"It's Mr Eder, the justice councillor," Hayashi whispered in his ear.

"Good evening, Mr Eder," Mamoru said carefully, pleased to see the man clearly had understood.

"Mr Takatori," Eder said. "We decided against bringing this up during the meeting, as it would cause too much outcry in the press, but I wish to alert you to the fact that tomorrow we will require official statements from you that all the staff of your embassy are here of their own free will."

Mamoru took advantage of the pauses dictated by Hayashi's translation to say, "If people are assigned to a position, Mr Eder –"

"That's not what we mean," Eder said a little impatiently. "Those two, for example, Mr Laurent and Ms Martin – are they legally free people?"

"Laurent-san and Martin-san are civil servants of long experience," Mamoru said, hoping he sounded as horrified as he felt at the man's gall in actually saying such a thing to his face. Was that really, he wondered, what the people who had been speaking to Laurent and Martin had all been thinking? "I will have no problem in this embassy officially making such a statement."

"The Alliance does not condone slavery," Eder said. "If any of your staff makes a complaint of that nature, they will automatically be given asylum."

"We don't keep slaves," Mamoru said. "I will have the statement delivered to you by the start of work hours." Eder seemed a little confused, he thought as he took his leave as politely as he could, as if he'd thought he was making a standard statement that would be met with standard rebuttals rather than personal offence. "I suppose such asylum offers would not hold for you or I," he said viciously as he eased through the crowd again. Hayashi blanched, and Mamoru was immediately regretful. "I'm sorry, Hayashi-san," he said. "Please forget I said such a stupid thing, I simply meant I'm sure their tolerance does not extend to imperials." Hayashi excused himself for a moment, and Mamoru groaned inwardly that he had undone his good work of getting to know the man with one stupid remark.

"I think I scared him," he said as Naoe came up to him.

"I think I scared him, didn't you see the look he gave me? Did you ask him to commit treason?"

"I made it clear in a room full of people, some of whom must know at least a little of the language, that I'm here against my will," Mamoru whispered.

"Try to stop doing that," Naoe said. He examined the crowds of people mildly. "He'll get over it," he said. "So will you, eventually."

Mamoru gave him a practiced smile, and went back to trying out his limited stock of phrases on people who came up to stare at him as if he were an exotic animal.

It was a long evening.

* * *

"Sir," Martin said, "We've had several requests for information from schools for children of varying ages. Kishida-san said I should handle these requests, in light of my previous experience." She bowed, proffering a data chip. "Ito-san has seen this already. If this material seems acceptable –" she said politely.

Mamoru snapped it into his console and selected files at random. Were ambassadors usually expected to deal with such issues, he wondered, or was his inexperience being taken advantage of in some way? He rejected the thought, in this instance at least. Martin didn't seem the kind of person who would do that, he thought.

"There's a great deal here," he said. "Did you prepare it all this quickly?"

She flushed slightly, looking down. "Some I worked on during the journey," she said. "Some, however, is material I prepared for use with children in the empire. The branch I worked in was very involved in producing educational materials to be used on worlds undergoing settlement. Children here in the Alliance cannot be so very different, I thought." Her voice trailed away, as if she felt she had said something indelicate.

"Of course they can't be," Mamoru said. It wasn't the children's fault to be born here, he thought. "You've prepared it in their language, of course?" he said to fill the silence. A brilliant remark, he scolded himself. Of course it would be in the local language. "What format will we supply this in?" he asked.

"We can give them chips, of course," Martin said, "We have been asked in some cases, however, for a speaker from the embassy. Kishida-san has already replied to these that you would be unable to spare the time to visit them."

"Perhaps I could find the time at the Children's Festival," Mamoru said. Alliance children would speak even more freely than the adults, he thought, imagining poor Hayashi's consternation at translating impertinences.

"If I might have your permission, Takatori-sama," Martin said, "I could go to these schools. I could tell them the truth about the empire, so they won't believe the Alliance propaganda that says subjects of the empire are badly treated."

Mamoru considered it. "They might make very distressing remarks," he said.

"Such as were made to Your Excellency by Eder-san?" Martin said. "I could refute them."

She seemed fervent. Mamoru wondered how much of it reflected her thoughts. "What if the teachers say that there is discrimination?" he said. "If they say the laws speak of equality, but subjects of the empire do not rank the same as imperials?" She looked silently down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. Mamoru pinched the bridge of his nose and congratulated himself on his continuing ability to unsettle and frighten the people he would work with for the rest of his life. If he tried to save the moment by assuring her there was no surveillance in his office he would only unsettle her further and it was not quite true, anyway. Naoe had said there was no Alliance surveillance – that Naoe himself had set some up was beyond doubt.

"I asked to be sent here, Your Excellency," Martin said quietly. "I wasn't sent to free up a job for someone seen as more fitting. I just wanted to be useful again."

"Martin-san, I didn't –" Mamoru started before deciding he had apparently been appallingly rude enough for one day. It was her job, he told himself, for which she was trained. Perhaps she saw this as an opportunity for new experience that she would be unlikely to achieve sequestered in an office in the empire. "If Mori-san and Lt Naoe consider it safe, I have no objections," he said. "If they think it safe," he repeated as she started bowing in thanks. He stared at the door after she'd gone, unable to decide if he had done the right thing or not.

* * *

"Mamoru," Naoe said in some irritation, watching Mamoru pick at the remains of the evening meal, "You must stop questioning every action you take. You'll be seen as weak, and you cannot afford that, you'll have a lifetime of obeying your staff ahead. What harm will come of speaking to a class of Alliance brats?"

Mamoru gave up chasing the last pieces of vegetable in his bowl. Naoe had long since lost interest in the topic of conversation, but he was still unhappy with what he'd said. "We don't have the security to allow staff to be accompanied," he said, "And I feel –"

" – as if you've delivered the flower of Imperial womanhood into the rapacious hands of Alliance villains," Naoe said. "War dramas aren't meant to be taken as clear and objective documentaries, you know."

"They might ask questions that could be distressing for a subject of the empire," Mamoru said stubbornly.

"Which of course you would want to protect her from, as her delicate subject sensibilities could not handle the stress as well as could one of us," Naoe said sarcastically. "I thought you were against discrimination."

"That's not fair," Mamoru muttered. He didn't look at Naoe, not wanting to see the scorn in his face.

Naoe sighed. "Are you so discontent so soon?" he asked. "Mamoru – Mamoru, listen to me. You and I, we know why we're here, but for the others, this is their career. This is their life, and they want to do well in it. You really are the ambassador to this world – it's an insult to your family, but it's still a real post. Some of your staff will be planning on staying here forever, but some, the younger ones especially, must be using it as a stepping-stone to advance their careers. They'll see themselves back in the empire, seeking promotion with their experience from a distant world. Be fair to them. Let them do their jobs."

Mamoru glanced at him. He seemed sincere, which meant nothing, of course. Naoe was trained to look sincere while leading traitors into traps. There was nothing to be gained from such thoughts, however. Naoe was right, and Mamoru's own life would be better if he took the advice. "I'll let them do their jobs," he said. "And I'll be better at doing mine. You don't have to add my job to yours."

"You're my job," Naoe said. "And the political well-being of the embassy of course." He unfolded himself from where he knelt and came round to Mamoru's side of the low table, kneeling beside him. "You're more than my job," he said quietly, as quietly as he'd spoken on board the ship, and leant in to kiss Mamoru's lips.

Mamoru held him close, a hand firmly on the back of his neck to keep him from retreat. He did not care that everyone inside the empire and out might think him a credulous fool, he believed Naoe's assertion that this was real, it was not deception. "Nagi –" he whispered against Naoe's mouth, and kissed him again, running his hands over him. "You're not going to run off to an appointment this time?" he asked, smiling at the mess he'd made of Naoe's hair.

"No, I'm not," Naoe said, his there-and-gone smile lightening his face. "I cleared my schedule. Only, Mamoru, let's not kick over the table."

Mamoru laughed at the sight of the dishes shoved away from them and the discarded chopsticks slowly rotating, their movement echoing the touch of Naoe's fingers on his skin. He stood, Naoe following. "Let's not," he said, and pulled Naoe with him to his room.

"You use your bathroom," Naoe said, almost shyly. "I'll get what we need from my room." His shyness gone, he looked slyly at Mamoru, adding, "Who would have dared search my luggage? And one of us had to be thinking ahead." With that he was gone, leaving Mamoru to wash and brush his teeth.

Mamoru had barely emerged when Naoe was back, his uniform gone, and dressed in a yukata that clung damply to him, as if he had spared no time to dry himself after his brief shower. "You'll catch a cold," Mamoru said, wrapping himself round him.

"Not on this planet," Naoe said. "I opened my window and a blast of heat dried me nearly completely."

He forestalled further speech with a kiss, drawing Mamoru back towards the bed. He untied Mamoru's clothing and lay close, his hands warm on Mamoru's skin. They'd barely had the opportunity to do more, and never in such comfort. Mamoru found it difficult not to simply giggle in delight. "What do you want?" he asked between kisses. "I'm happy with whatever you want, Nagi."

Naoe - Nagi, Mamoru thought; there was no need to guard even his thoughts against familiarity any longer – Nagi gestured and, without him even looking, the small tube and packets he'd dropped on the bedside cabinet came to his hand. He pressed them against Mamoru's palm, folding his fingers over them.

"I told you already," he said. "I want you to learn to take the lead."

They were both clumsily eager, the fearful restraint of months of schooling themselves to not even look with more than dispassion at each other flung aside. Dealing neatly with another person's arms and legs was more difficult than Mamoru had expected, but Nagi was as set on solving the puzzle as he was. The reality was better by far than his fantasies, Mamoru thought, clinging tight to Nagi and gasping, for while there had not been the smooth perfection his imagination had suggested to him, there was the utter joy of not having to care about anything but each other. Nagi's face was wiped free of all the cares Mamoru had grown used to thinking of merely part of his normal expression, and he looked young and peaceful, as he had when they had first met.

"Worth waiting for?" Nagi said lazily.

"Yes," Mamoru said, kissing him lightly. Then, as if he were speaking to the person he'd once thought Nagi to be rather than the Psi-Corps officer he now knew, he went on mischievously, "I especially liked the part where you elbowed me in the nose."

Nagi squinted at him in astonishment, as if Mamoru were the last person in the empire he'd have expected to make jokes after sex. Then he started to laugh, louder and more freely than Mamoru had thought he ever could. He resolved to make Nagi laugh again, if he could.

"If I hadn't been quick there was one point where you tried to knee me in the groin," Nagi said through his laughter. "We can only improve." He turned on his side, tracing one finger along Mamoru's side. "I'm going to tell you something," he said, his face serious again. "About the whole situation we're in."

Mamoru half muffled him with a fierce embrace. "You don't have to, I know you had to do it," he said.

"No, listen. Back then, when I told you I was a student – Mamoru, listen. I was meant to watch you, to see what sort of remnant of your family your grandfather had managed to find. It was considered more cost-effective, you see, to let him search you out than spend resources on us doing it." Nagi looked away, a little shamefaced. "There was you, and he found that daughter of your eldest brother – she was nothing to worry about, a little child like that. But you -- I was supposed to find out if you'd ever been involved in any of your family's crimes, if you were a traitor." He paused, tracing patterns on Mamoru's chest. "You were so innocent," he said, "In so many ways. And I was so glad. When we talked about friendship – it wasn't a lie. None of it. I was going to recommend minimal surveillance, you'd never have noticed, it would only have been a matter of slight delays in ports if you traveled off-world. One week before my report was due I discovered documentation saying I was to be instructed to lead you into a political scandal, the last purge of people who had supported your father. There were estimates for how long the show trials would take, and the days most suitable for your execution. They didn't care about my evidence, they wouldn't give a damn for my report, and they would kill you and say they had Psi-Corps backing for their actions." He looked grim and bitter at the memory. "As if they could use me like that, like they thought I'd provide evidence to their specifications. I rewrote my report, I falsified supporting materials, recommended exile and supervision and sent it all off, higher than any of those fools were expecting." He ran a finger down Mamoru's face, murmuring, "I couldn't just exonerate you, you'd have been murdered the moment my attention was elsewhere. It had to be enough to satisfy them they were rid of you, but not enough for more than exile. Then I went to you to arrest you. I'm sorry, Mamoru."

Mamoru sighed, rolling onto his back. Sometimes he dreamed of it, that morning when Nagi had appeared, grim and black-uniformed, demanding that the criminal Takatori no Mamoru surrender his person to justice. He hadn't believed it at first, for who would? It was only when he found himself spun round and his arms wrenched behind him by unseen force that he understood his trouble. "You said you were saving my life," he said. "Thank you. What happened to my grandfather and niece?"

"I don't know," Nagi said. "Your family's enemies could use the child to show their mercy and dedication to separating innocent and guilty. It would be in their interest to show her safe and well. Your grandfather and his women, though –"

"I don't blame you," Mamoru said, still looking at the ceiling. Trust me, Nagi had said. Please, Mamoru, trust me. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, they weren't happy," Nagi said. "I had a fine line to walk, standing on my dignity as a member of the Corps while seeming a raw and inexperienced agent who'd inadvertently upset carefully laid plans. I only got away with it because your enemies hadn't wanted to call in more than one Psi-Corps officer to the case – and having got me, they were stuck with my now public recommendations. I'd never have managed it if they'd had a telepath."

"Your people wouldn't have covered for you?" Mamoru said.

"It depends on the circumstance. It depends on the telepath. I turned myself in, and begged permission to make up for my youthful mistake by becoming your supervisor. That's why I vanished. I knew I had a very short time to get to anyone of superior rank who might listen."

"But you did," Mamoru said, turning back. He tried not to remember his time in prison if he could; the only bearable memory was Nagi's return.

"Your enemies had abused the system to try to kill you, I abused my authority to try to save us both. I made a ship take off un-scheduled and give me transport to the next system so I could be debriefed." He smiled cynically. "I knew there was a telepath there who'd be sympathetic. I'd been stationed there myself, there were four of us in the unit. I came back with an official reprimand for rashness, but officially above suspicion for anything else, and with orders to accompany you here. And here I am. It's an exile for me as much as for you."

"You destroyed your career," Mamoru said in wonderment. Nagi took his hand and squeezed it tight for a moment.

"I don't regret it," he said. "Now that you know, do you?"

"I'd hate it if you weren't here," Mamoru said. "And I prefer being alive to being dead – I might even have more everyday freedom here than if all this had never happened."

"Yes, if we're careful," Nagi said, stroking his face. "And I won't be suddenly assigned elsewhere."

"Good," Mamoru said. "Good. What now?"

"Now?" Nagi said. "Now, I think we rest, and then make love again. What do you think?"

"I think you're an excellent planner," Mamoru said, and wrapped himself around Nagi, still filled with warm pleasure at the lengths Nagi had gone to for him. It felt very good to be so important to another human being.

* * *

His staff were laughing at him, Mamoru thought. People smiled, and looked more cheerful when they saw him. Ito almost grinned when going over the day's schedule in the morning. Mamoru checked his reflection to make sure he wasn't covered in food, but could see nothing amusing about his appearance.

"Why are they laughing at me?" he whispered as he ate lunch with Nagi.

"I don't think they're laughing at you," Nagi said quietly.

Mamoru raised an eyebrow and looked around the room. People briefly met his eyes, then dropped their gazes, smiling to themselves. It was polite to eat with his staff now and then, he thought, and was probably polite also not to ask what was amusing.

"You'd make a terrible secret agent," Nagi said, amusement in his voice too, though thankfully not in his face. "Mamoru, for the past two days your grin has gone from here –" A light, invisible touch flicked against Mamoru's left ear. " – to here." The touch came against his right ear.

"I should get back to my office," Mamoru said, fighting down a blush.

"All right," Nagi said, and watched him go.

Mamoru was glad that it was a decent amount of time later before Nagi came to see him. People were still smiling at him, and he cautiously decided he didn't mind.

"Am I really so obvious?" he said.

"Oh, yes," Nagi said. "You're obviously cheerful, anyway. I don't think they've worked out why as yet. You'll probably be able to tell when they do by the number of people glaring at me and trying to subtly help you deal with my harassment." He snorted with dry laughter at Mamoru's expression. "I'm the villain, you're the mistreated innocent – they can tell you haven't a treacherous bone in your body, Mamoru. Right now they're just happy you're happier than you were at first."

"Oh," Mamoru said.

"They like you, didn't you notice?"

Mamoru looked at him blankly. The misery of his first days was gone, he thought, and even that had been nothing compared to the start of his nightmare. He wasn't being watched, Nagi'd risked everything to save him and be with him and now he found he was unexpectedly liked by people he'd thought would despise him. "I won't let them dislike you," he said.

"That's something we can work at," Nagi said calmly.

"What happens now?" Mamoru said, the future suddenly not grey and unendingly drab in his mind. Nagi took his hand and held it tight.

"Now we live, Mamoru," he said. "We live."

* * *

It was strange, Mamoru thought, how easily he had become accustomed to his new life. There was little to do, once the first weeks were over, and he could devote his time to learning the local language, forcing its complicated grammar into his mind. It was ridiculously difficult to learn, he thought despairingly. As he struggled with irregular verbs he more and more admired the achievements of his staff who could speak even a little of the language. He himself felt he was progressing backwards, and might as well admit he could do no more than point at objects while dredging up hopeful yet inaccurate vocabulary.

When official business required him it was a pleasant break in the daily routine, and he eagerly read the requests for information. Once, a no doubt heavily edited copy of a trade agreement reached his desk, sent as a courtesy from the planetary development council, and he read it avidly, devouring the information that both he and the council knew would never benefit them, Alcmene lying as it did too far from the Imperial trade routes. The requests for interviews were fewer now – twice he'd appeared on current affairs broadcasts, a frustrating experience for both him and the interviewers, he was sure. Hayashi had reluctantly shown him the opinion columns in the press after both occasions, and Mamoru still winced when he recalled the analysis of his performance. He was too young, too inexperienced, too eager to deflect difficult questions higher up the line to Imperial provincial offices, the analysts agreed. They only differed in that some suggested that the presence of any Imperial embassy at all indicated the potential for success Alcmene must possess, and that others decried the use of their world as a training-ground for the surplus sons of the Imperial governing families.

"Don't bother with their opinions, Ambassador Takatori," Hayashi said, being announced by Ito to find Mamoru reading over the translation of one such column again, days later. "That writer in particular is known for his outrageous statements, I've heard."

"You yourself said it's important to know how the locals see us," Mamoru said. "And he's right about my inexperience. I have to say I prefer this one, though –" He held up a popular magazine, open to a page containing a couple of pictures of him. "It's refreshing to know my major fault is I don't wear bright enough colours."

Hayashi laughed politely. "That magazine has also requested an interview – they've submitted a list of questions." Ito took the print-out he held out and handed it to Mamoru. "It seems more serious than their usual fare, but is still light by comparison with the others. They focus on some cultural questions and education."

"Can't Kishida-san and Martin-san handle it?" Mamoru asked. "They may be more positive towards us, but do you think it's quite the sort of publication I should speak to directly?"

"No," Hayashi said. "Certainly not for a full interview. I've discussed it with Kishida-san. This magazine is mainly read by women; he and I think Martin-san would be the best person to speak to them, with her experience in education. At the end you could perhaps say a few words to them about the high value we put on children and education."

"Why not?" Mamoru said. It would be a pleasant enough low-pressure task, he thought. "I'm sure their readership would be disappointed if they didn't get at least one picture of my colourless self." It would be a good thing to reach out to such frivolous, popular publications, he thought, as well as the more serious ones. They'd appear more human, less as objects of worry, and perhaps he and his staff would eventually not be faced with the insulting caricatures of villainous imperials that adorned some of the opinion columns.

As the weeks went on, and it became clear that no troops had been somehow smuggled on-world, and that the embassy personnel wore clothing it was hard to describe as exotic when hurrying to work, they were all allowed to sink towards the obscurity Nagi had promised. The younger members of the embassy staff worked harder, it seemed, in response to that; Ito was always waiting for him when he came to the office in the morning, budgetary reports from Ishikawa crossed Mamoru's desk regularly, and Martin's diligence in explaining the empire and its customs to Alcmene's schoolchildren was obvious.

The broadcasting channels gradually lost interest in the embassy, and showed fewer documentaries explaining Imperial history and customs. That was a pity in a way, Mamoru thought. Half the embassy staff treated such broadcasts as comedy, laughing at the biased presentation and misinformation. The other half seemed to find pleasure in being outraged by the programmes, dissecting them mercilessly during their breaks and threatening to write letters of complaint.

The torpor wasn't unpleasant, Mamoru reflected, but he would have to find something to do. Ito, Ishikawa and Martin had the right idea, he thought, doing their jobs properly, even if there was no immediate need for them to do so. In two years, or four, when the next imperial ship made the long trek out to Alcmene, he might lose them from the staff. His letters of recommendation might be worthless, he thought, but he was sure that Hayashi's would help them in their careers. Then the embassy would be short-staffed, of course, unless someone thought a stint far from civilization would help them up the career ladder and applied. He shook his head at his own planning. What point was there in worrying about what would happen so far in the future? No imperial ship would arrive for a very long time, and he should simply concentrate on doing his job to the best of his abilities. Faithful, quiet service would start the rebuilding of his family's good name.

"Should the embassy agree to more interviews?" he asked Nagi, as they lay pleasantly sleepy, still tangled in an embrace despite the evening's heat. "Not just me, but Hayashi and the others?"

"We shouldn't jump every time some news programme wants to fill a few minutes," Nagi said. "You know we don't want to keep pushing ourselves into the public eye."

"I know," Mamoru said, poking a finger into Nagi's chest to keep him awake, "But you know I want to prove myself out here. I was never a traitor, and I want to show I can be depended on to do my job."

"Isn't it enough that I know what you're like? That your staff does?" Nagi said. "Mamoru, it's too early for you to be restless. We need time, time to be forgotten. We're not going back, what does it matter how they see you?" He squinted at Mamoru's expression and sighed. "I know I can't fix what happened to you in prison. I'm sorry."

"Do you think they'll really find it profitable to use my brother's child as propaganda for their mercy to the innocent?" Mamoru said in a small voice.

"Your grandfather did the right thing in making her existence so publicly known," Nagi said firmly. "They'd face questions if she just disappeared. Did they try to use her fate against you?"

"Yeah," Mamoru said heavily. "In the interrogations they said no one would care what happened to a traitor's bastards. They had pictures –" Nagi's arms tightened round him. "It wasn't her. I know it wasn't." He hated how forlorn he sounded.

"I care about you," Nagi said. "You know that. You were both legitimised, your grandfather still had friends untouched by scandal that he could have counted on for marriage alliances – there were people who cared, Mamoru, even if your father's enemies had outflanked them. There's nothing to gain by executing a child or by making her disappear. Really, Mamoru." He slid a hand down Mamoru's back, murmuring, "This is a sad topic of conversation. How can I cheer you up?"

"Join my family," Mamoru said, the words escaping before he'd properly even thought them.

"What?" Nagi said, his expression perplexed.

Mamoru kissed him to stop them both thinking, horrified he should have said such a thing without careful planning. Nagi seemed to think it had been some sort of odd joke, for he didn't demand an explanation, just clutched Mamoru tighter against him.

"Don't be gentle," Nagi said urgently, as if he thought Mamoru's demons would be exorcised through lack of restraint.

It worked, at least for a while, Mamoru thought afterwards, lying gasping and exhausted on the sweat soaked sheets, his arms wrapped tight around Nagi's waist, his chest pressed against Nagi's back, feeling every harsh breath Nagi took. "I love you," he said, his face pressed into the back of Nagi's neck. Nagi squeezed his hand hard, then wriggled round to face him.

"Don't ever think this isn't real," he said, kissing him. "Not ever."

* * *

It was a full week later before Mamoru had the thought straight in his mind. He turned it over and over, looking at it from every side, polishing it and thinking how he would express it. He wanted Nagi to join his family, and just needed the right words to say it convincingly. It had been no more than an idle whim on board the Tsubame Maru born of loneliness and the urge to form a link with Nagi it would be hard to break. It had flown from his mind once they had some measure of peace on Alcmene but was back now, full force. You're just upset about your niece, he imagined Nagi saying. It was true, at least in part, Mamoru had to admit. There's more to it than that, he thought, countering Nagi's imagined skepticism. I want the family to grow again. I want your place to be acknowledged. He rubbed his eyes wearily. What Nagi was to him was no secret any more. All the staff that had come from the
Empire knew, and he had to suppose the catering and cleaning staff at least had suspicions. Maybe not, he thought. They would surely have run to the tabloids if they had a story to sell. He paused, annoyed at his own prejudices, and reminded himself that Alliance citizens could act decently. He was sure he'd been less prejudiced at home.

If there was disapproval amongst his staff, it was directed at Nagi, as Nagi himself had predicted. The braver of the staff sometimes looked as if they were longing to give their opinions, but so far nothing had been said aloud. Mamoru had taken to smiling widely at Nagi, and making a point of walking with him companionably when the evening breeze was pleasant. He didn't think such public actions were having their intended effect. Surreptitious glares still came Nagi's way; his response was to withdraw further into cool silence that brooked no approach from anyone save Mamoru. It would have to be sorted out, Mamoru thought, before his days became any more strained.

"Ito-san," he said one morning, interrupting his secretary as he laid out the day's schedule. "What do the staff think of Lt Naoe?"

Ito's slight smile was polite as always. "All the staff respect him a great deal, Takatori-sama," he said. He pushed forward a print-out, continuing, "Ishikawa-san's estimate of what we can spend on the Children's Festival."

"He's a good person," Mamoru said.

"Yes, I believe he achieved a very high grade in university," Ito said.

Mamoru frowned in puzzlement. "I mean Lt Naoe, not Ishikawa-san," he said. "I mean, they're both good people."

"Yes, sir," Ito said.

"Never mind," Mamoru muttered, picking up the print-out. "Let me see those figures."

He tried again with Hayashi.

"Lt Naoe," he started. "What do you think of him?"

"A very quiet young man and a diligent servant of the state," Hayashi said, as if this was a question he had been expecting. Ito had been talking, Mamoru supposed, or Hayashi had assumed his opinion would be sought sooner or later.

"He has never treated me badly," Mamoru said. This was something he had prepared, but it still made him blush. Damn it, he thought. "I owe him a great deal," he said.

"There are some things no one owes another," Hayashi said, looking very straight at Mamoru and sounding as if he wanted him to recall some personal dignity.

"That's not –" Mamoru started, then paused. He supposed it did sound like he'd just said he was sleeping with Nagi in return for favourable treatment. Stupid, he admonished himself, glaring down at his desk. "I've known him for some time," he settled on. "No one could hope for someone better to help them bear unfortunate circumstances." Hayashi was retreating, he saw, from the conversational pitfall. "He's both efficient and personable," Mamoru said quickly.

"A most efficient young man, yes," Hayashi said, the lightest touch of venom in his voice.

"I find him personable," Mamoru said. Hayashi was looking at him oddly, wondering perhaps if some plea was being made. "He's a very great help to me."

"Takatori-sama," Hayashi said, sounding a little helpless. Mamoru wondered if he should be proud he could confront an experienced diplomat with such an unexpected situation. There was a silence that neither of them, it seemed, wished to break. "Did you want to practice your conversational skills?" Hayashi said at last.

"Yes," Mamoru sighed, wondering if perhaps he needed to use a new language to say what he wanted. "Yes, why not?"

* * *

"Kishida-san has received more requests for me to talk to schools," Mamoru said, sitting in his private rooms, trying to ignore the entertainment broadcast. "I was thinking I'd agree –"

"Let Kishida talk to them. Or Martin, she enjoys that sort of thing," Nagi said, not shifting his eyes from the screen. "Look at that man," he said, exasperated, "He's not an imperial – there have to be Alliance citizens of imperial ancestry, you'd think they could at least cast their dramatic villains a little more accurately."

"Must you watch this rubbish?" Mamoru said. He sipped at his coffee, feeling a little surprise at how quickly he'd become accustomed to the taste.

A sly grin was there and gone on Nagi's face. "Is it interfering with your desire to be non-prejudiced? Don't worry, I'll turn it off before he ravishes beautiful young nuns or shoots children."

"Children," Mamoru said. "Kishida-san suggested early on that I might talk to a class of children at the Children's Festival."

"What if some young fool decides they'd like to rid the world of an evil imperial?" Nagi said, gesturing at the screen. He turned it off and faced Mamoru, eyebrows raised.

"I'm sure you'd have vetted the children for previous convictions for murder," Mamoru said teasingly. "How about young children?"

"They might bite," Nagi said. "Or give you measles."

"One class," Mamoru wheedled. "It would be good PR." Nagi was giving in, he could tell. "Delightful children, eagerly learning about the empire . . ."

"I'll think about it. You'd have to talk about safe topics."

"With children that shouldn't be a problem. It's not like they'll want to discuss questions of foreign policy."

"Unless they've been coached," Nagi said. "I'll talk to Martin. Happy?"

"Yes," Mamoru said, leaning over to kiss him. "Nagi," he said, looking into Nagi's eyes from close range, "There's something else." Nagi waited as he paused, his face growing suspicious as the silence lengthened. "I was so pleased to find I had a family," Mamoru said. "Surprised to find what family it was, naturally, but pleased. And now they're gone."

"It's not like you ever knew your father or brothers," Nagi said, in what Mamoru supposed was meant to be a consoling manner.

"But I did know some of the family," Mamoru said. "No matter how harmless my enemies might think my niece, you can't tell me they'd be merciful to my grandfather or his concubines."

"That old goat," Nagi muttered. Mamoru privately agreed; he'd been disconcerted by the women's youth and the way they'd whispered together, looking at him.

"You know I want the family to survive," he said. "It needs more than just me, Nagi. What if I died tomorrow?"

"I'd take a terrible revenge," Nagi said promptly. "Then I'd clone you. Or would if we weren't on an Alliance world – Mamoru? That was just a joke. You're not going to die tomorrow." He tugged sharply on Mamoru's hair. "What is it? Come on, tell me."

"I want you to join my family," Mamoru said. "I want you to become a Takatori."

Nagi sat up abruptly. "Proposing so soon?" he said, not quite looking at Mamoru.

"I didn't mean –" Mamoru started. "Nagi," he said carefully, "I'd hoped to be able to offer – not this year, perhaps, but in the years to come – two Takatori bridegrooms to possible allies."

"Oh, now we're discussing your tastes in women," Nagi muttered.

"No! Don't be so – look, you know I can tell the difference between politics and friendship."

"You want me to be your brother?" Nagi said. "Or your son? The press will love this."

"Nagi!" Mamoru said, exasperated. "What's wrong with you? I want you and a successful family, what's so bad about th—"

"You never listen to me about anything, do you?" Nagi cut in. "I'm Psi-Corps, Mamoru. I can't run off and join a traitor's family willy-nilly. Oh, wipe that look off your face, I don't mean you and you know it." He took a deep breath and stood up. "Have you any idea what would happen to us both if we were arrested for treason?" he said. "Suborned Psi-Corps officers make very good object lessons. You'd have it easy in comparison."

"Nagi," Mamoru said, reaching for him. "I'll take your advice, you know that. I just wanted to –" He'd been stupid to bring it up, he thought as his voice trailed off. Stupid. Nagi was looking at him like he was a weak fool.

"Damn it," Nagi said, and knelt by him. "You idiot," he said quietly, with no force behind the words. "Please, think. We have to be totally forgotten. Suppose a ship turned up next year and spies found I was a Takatori? I can't publicly be anything but my own name, you have to see that. Thank you, though. I've never had a family."

"Could you do it privately?" Mamoru said. "If no one knew but us? And a trusted witness?" He wondered if such a person could exist in Nagi's view. Nagi hadn't said no, he realized, and put his arms about him. "Can I ask you again?" he said quietly.

"Not yet," Nagi said, turning away. "Not yet."

* * *

The Children's Festival was sad without any children about, Mamoru thought, glad he was going to the school Nagi had finally approved. He looked out the car window, paying little attention to Martin telling him what she had arranged. He'd be able to greet the children in their own language, hold some simple conversations, and would depend on her to translate the rest. The streets flashed by, hot and white in the sunlight, and he felt himself slipping into a trance, blessedly free from thought. It was better than wishing Nagi had come with him, when he himself had suggested Nagi stay behind. Mamoru groaned inwardly to have the thoughts come rushing back. He hadn't expected to be listened to, any more than he'd expected Nagi to be as easy with him as he'd been before they'd spoken of families. Whether he'd offended him or made him in some way shy, Nagi had barely spoken words to him in private for a week. He'd been professional at least, saying he'd vetted the school, and saw no reason Mamoru couldn't appear harmless and speak to children without a bodyguard. Maybe he was telling Mamoru he trusted him to be circumspect in public.

The car was slowing. "Thank you, Martin-san," Mamoru said automatically. "Ito-san, can you bring in the sweets?"

"Yes, Takatori-sama," Ito said as the car stopped in the grounds of a long, low building.

It was a pity they couldn't have bought better sweets, Mamoru thought. The local ones would just have to do. Dammit, Nagi, he thought as he climbed out of the car. Why can't you just – He stopped, feeling a surprised smile tug at his lips as the teachers and the children selected to greet him stepped forward and executed exaggerated bows. They were wearing colorful, home-made yukatas, and two of the small boys had plastic swords thrust through their obis.

"Lt Naoe will be pleased you are to have security in attendance," Ito said in the barest of whispers.

"Hmm," Mamoru said, suddenly wanting to laugh. He surreptitiously made sure his own yukata was neat, looking at the haphazard way some of the children had fastened theirs.

"Please, they don't know any better," Martin whispered as the smallest and most brightly clad of the girls came forward, bowed so deeply it seemed she might topple over, and held up a bunch of flowers to Mamoru.

"Hello," she said slowly and carefully in the imperial language. "Hello."

"Hello," Mamoru said. "How pretty these are, thank you." He smilingly handed the flowers over to Martin and turned his attention to the teachers.

"Takatori-sama, this is Ms Kalpna, the headmistress," Martin said, indicating a middle-aged, dark-complexioned woman.

"We're so pleased you could come to visit the school, Your Excellency," Ms Kalpna said. "Won't you come in out of the heat?"

"Thank you, yes," Mamoru said, walking beside her, and finding himself flanked by the children, all of whom stared at him curiously. Checking for signs of evil, he imagined Nagi saying.

They went into a hall, and Mamoru found himself faced with some one hundred and fifty children, none older, he guessed, than ten. On one wall images of carp, clearly drawn by the children, were arrayed in a great shoal, while on another the Imperial and the Alliance flags hung peaceably side by side with snacks and sweets were arranged on a long table beneath them. Mamoru wondered what terrible attempts had been made to provide food to make him feel welcome, imagining the children proudly presenting him with the results of cookery classes. A few photographers stood to one side, cameras at the ready, with what he supposed to be some parents milling about, smaller cameras in their hands. He smiled as the headmistress introduced him, Martin whispering a translation quietly beside him, then launched into his carefully-learned speech about the festival, and how it was celebrated in the empire. Was his accent understandable, he wondered? They appeared to be following, at least. When he stopped there was silence at first, the photographers lowering their cameras in boredom. Then the teachers led the children in polite applause, the costumed children taking the opportunity to amuse themselves with more deep bows.

"Thank you, Your Excellency," Ms Kalpna said. "Does anyone have a question for the ambassador?"

Every child in the room put up their hand and began to call out in excitement. What was his name? Did he want to see they could write his name? Could he write out their names? Was it true everyone in the empire only ate raw fish? Where were his swords? Immediately Mamoru knew he'd never be able to answer questions quickly in the local language, and felt he must look overwhelmed by the noise. He thought of how the photographers would sell their pictures and the press would smugly write about repressed imperials overcome by free-spirited children. Well, he thought, he hadn't always had to be a stiff-faced diplomat, or the last son of a desperate great family. The retail trade had its own way of training people in how to deal with the public. The adults in the room are customers, he told himself, and they won't buy anything unless you charm their children. Fortified by the thought, he smiled widely and stepped into the midst of the crowd, Martin following to translate.

"Most people don't wear swords these days," Mamoru said, grinning at one of the costumed children. "Yours look very fine, though." He turned to one of the older children who'd yelled a question about names. "I bet you can't write my name," he said.

"I can so!" she said, pulling out a tablet and stylus. "Look!"

"Not bad," he conceded. "Here, I'll write yours – this is how we write non-imperial words –"

He chatted with the children, ate the food with every indication of enjoyment, talked eagerly and sincerely with the teachers about cultural exchange, and complimented the parents who had made their children yukatas to wear. It was far more pleasant to pretend he was a shop worker than to pretend he was a diplomat, he decided. There were fewer ways to fail if he were just a shop assistant.

He felt he had exhausted not only himself but all possible areas of conversation, when he felt a tug on his sleeve, and looked down to see the child who had first greeted him.

"My name's Sarah," she informed him.

"Hello, Sarah," he said. "My name's Mamoru."

"Ms Kalpna said you'd tell us a story," she said expectantly.

Mamoru looked over at Martin to make sure he'd understood her correctly. "A story," he said, trying to think of childhood books.

"Mr Takatori has already told us stories about the festival," Ms Kalpna said gently.

"It's all right," he said, one coming back to him at last. "I'll tell a story, only I'll have to tell it in my own language, and Ms Martin can tell you what I'm saying." He sat down, hoping the ending of the story didn't desert him. "Long ago, long ago," he started, "There was an old man and an old woman –" The little girl leaned against him, looking into his face as he spoke. When he finished he discovered the room had grown quiet, and the photographers were lowering their cameras, with satisfied expressions.

Everyone seemed pleased with the afternoon's work as they made their goodbyes, the children waving and bowing as the car pulled away. Mamoru sat back and closed his eyes, trying to will himself back into his current life. It was hard to put away his former self again, to forget how things had once been. If his grandfather had never found him – Mamoru straightened up and adopted a carefully blank expression. There was no point in thinking like that, things were as they were and had to be accepted. He stayed quiet till they were back in the embassy compound, where he sent Ito and Martin home. There wasn't enough work to justify them staying. There wasn't enough work to justify him going to his office either, but he did, and read through paperwork till he could no longer avoid going to his apartments. At least even his current circumstances he lived better than he had, he thought, remembering his tiny flat and how his grandfather had looked at it in disdain. You are better than this, boy.

"You should have left me as I was," he muttered. Families were chancy things, and he'd been better off without one. To give him just enough of a taste of a family to know he wanted desperately for more was cruel. On cue, the door opened and Nagi came in.

"You survived."

"Yeah," Mamoru said, and sat in front of the screen. Watching a broadcast would fill the silence, he thought. Nagi had probably said all he was going to say for the night. He flicked through channels looking for something simple enough to follow, then frowned and went back to an image of a brightly-dressed child. There was some footage from the school of him smiling and talking to children, his speech at the start.

"You wave your hands around too much," Nagi said from beside him.

"I was trying not to seem stiff and unapproachable," Mamoru said, a little annoyed that Nagi should suddenly feel he had to give voice to a critique after been so silent so long. The image froze on a still of him telling his stupid story, looking down as the small girl looked up at him intently. "The something of the Empire," he read. "What does it say?"

"The human face of the Empire," Nagi said. "At least they didn't put a question mark after that," he added sardonically.

"Yeah," Mamoru said. "Breaking news: Imperial ambassador revealed not to eat babies."

"Lord Mamoru Takatori entertains a class of schoolchildren on a festival day," Nagi read on.

Mamoru winced. "Great. Let's hope that inflation of my status doesn't get back to my enemies."

There was a light touch on his hair, then Nagi put an arm about him, as if he thought his telekinesis weren't enough. "You sound less optimistic than when you were setting out," he said.

"Long day. Noisy kids," Mamoru said shortly. Then, "Homesickness," he said. "I used to work near a school, before my family found me. The shop was always full of schoolchildren."

"I know," Nagi said. "It was in your file, your shop, situated near a girls' school. You mean you miss being surrounded by girls." He sounded determinedly amused, so Mamoru risked looking up.

"They were mainly there for my co-workers. I was a late bloomer."

"Ouch," Nagi winced. "Bad pun, flower-seller." He bent to touch his lips to Mamoru's. "I don't know if you've noticed," he said, "But I can be a bad-tempered, sulky sort of person. I didn't mean to add to your troubles."

"Don't be stupid," Mamoru said, putting a hand on the back of his neck so he couldn't escape. "I've noticed no such thing." It felt good to kiss Nagi again. "I'm done being maudlin," he murmured.

"Good," Nagi said. "Me too. No more homesickness. You are home, you hear me?"

"Yes," Mamoru said, holding on tight. "I hear you."

* * *

The Road Towards Kamakura, part I (Weiss Kreuz, Nagi/Mamoru)

2008-09-01T09:16:29Z

Title: The Road Towards Kamakura
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairings: Nagi/Mamoru, Crawford/Schuldig, Mamoru/OFC, Nagi/OFC
Rating: R
Summary: In exile in a distant and unimportant post for his family's crimes, Mamoru builds himself a new life.
Word Count: 61000 words.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to toscas_kiss for beta-reading, and to puddingcat, for her wonderful illustrations! This is a sequel to Sailing to Hirugashima, a science-fiction AU in a space-opera setting. Like that story, it takes its title from place names important to the founding of the Kamakura shogunate.
Sections: I; II; III; IV; V; VI; VII

The Tsubame Maru's sirens sounded again. Mamoru sat on the edge of his bed, wondering what the noise meant this time. Naoe had inquired of the bridge before, to be told they signified assemblies, specific shifts necessary for approaching dock and once, sullenly, that they signified matters of interest to the damn crew and to no one else. Naoe's patience had worn thin by then, and Mamoru was glad the crewman was safely anonymous. The last four days had worn more heavily on them both than the whole long journey before, and he was glad they were finally over. The sirens rang again.

"Two hours to dock," a voice said over the communications system.

"We'll have headaches if they keep that noise up," Mamoru said.

Naoe didn't so much as look at him. Mamoru gave up trying to lighten the mood and lay down, closing his eyes. Almost all his belongings used during the journey were packed, there was nothing more to do other than try and be rested enough to meet whoever would come to greet him.

"Wake me in an hour and a half," he said.

"Take the full two hours," Naoe said. "It takes time to dock, you'll have plenty of time to get ready."

Mamoru peered at him. Naoe had been on ships before and was more knowledgeable than he, although he said little about his previous assignments.

"All right," he said. "What about you? Are you going to rest?"

"I probably should," Naoe said. "Though this might seem the perfect time to try another assassination attempt. I was restrained before, I won't hold back a second time."

Mamoru raised himself up on one elbow. "Do you think it's likely?" he asked.

Naoe strode over and pushed him back down, lightly. "No," he said very quietly. "That was just for the listeners. Rest. You'll need it, you haven't been sleeping well."

Mamoru looked up at his slim, black-clad form, thinking how it must look for the cameras, Naoe pushing him, standing over him unsmilingly. He closed his eyes obediently, and didn't smile at the small deception.

It seemed as if no time had passed when Naoe shook his arm. Mamoru rubbed at his eyes and sat up.

"We're coming in to dock," Naoe said. "Shower and change. It'll be at least another hour before they come for us."

Mamoru nodded and staggered to the tiny bathroom. He could have slept for another ten hours, he thought. Anything to ease the worry that ate at him now that he was almost there, his exile suddenly huge and monstrous in his mind. Naoe had assured him there were no cameras in the shower, one place at least where he didn't have to school his face to careful blankness. He laid his head against the wall wearily as the thin stream of water, never quite hot enough, ran over his shoulders. Naoe would think this was weak, he thought at last, and finished as quickly as he could. Finally he emerged to pull on the uniform Naoe had ready for him.

"Go ahead, I'm fine," Mamoru said, combing his damp hair into order.

Naoe took his turn in the bathroom, spending less than half the time Mamoru had. As he packed their last belongings and looked about to make sure nothing was forgotten, Mamoru frowned in sudden thought.

"Do you only have your uniforms to wear?" he said. He'd never seen Naoe in anything else.

"What else would I need?" Naoe said, as if it had never occurred to him.

It was difficult to know if he was being serious or not. Mamoru took some comfort in the fact that if he couldn't easily tell, others would find it even more difficult. They had not appeared to be friends on the voyage, he was certain. He sat on his bed again, waiting. Naoe sat as well, silent and watchful. The time stretched out, almost unbearably, until there was at last a knock at the door. Naoe answered it, showing in a steward.

"Please come with me, Ambassador Takatori," the woman said. "We have safely docked at the station. You and your staff may now disembark. If you follow me to the bridge, Captain Fjalarsson will see to anything you need."

She was commendably polite and apparently unafraid, Mamoru thought, given that the entirety of his staff on board was standing behind her, and known to all the crew as an abomination and a dealer of death.

"Your baggage will be brought immediately," the woman said and bowed.

Mamoru followed her out the door, Naoe close behind. Other crewmembers outside bowed deeply, and scurried in to collect the bags. As they walked along, every crewmember encountered bowed, not raising their heads until Mamoru was past. The courtesy was so marked a change from the start of the voyage that Mamoru felt it was itself a species of discourtesy, but it was nothing, he decided, he could legitimately complain of. He and Naoe had – belatedly – demanded the deference that was theirs by right, he shouldn't be unsettled to receive it. He kept his gaze straight ahead and steady until the woman had led them to the bridge, for the captain to take over, where she bowed deeply once more and left.

"Ambassador Takatori. I'm sorry to lose your company so soon, it has been a great pleasure to have you aboard my ship," Fjalarsson said, his tone perfectly polite.

"The journey was very comfortable," Mamoru said. Fjalarsson managed a small smile, and Mamoru looked as harmless as he could. The captain had lost the barbed tones his voice had had at the journey's start, his fear for his ship and crew all too evident. Mamoru didn't pretend to himself that he was the source of the fear – an ambassador he might be, but surely the most minor, and one meant to be forgotten, his mission an exile disguised as an appointment. It was Naoe who was the threat, who held the political power. Mamoru regretted humiliating the man, regretted following Naoe's advice to remind Fjalarsson and all his crew of their relative positions in the empire, but knew there was nothing he could now do to lessen the sting. Following Naoe's advice was necessary, both to show the worlds that Mamoru was obedient to his jailer's demands, and to ease relations between Naoe and himself. He was the one who had to live with Naoe's presence, not Fjalarsson, and he wanted friendship, not resentment.

"Well, let's see what the Alliance demand from us for daring to visit one of their worlds this time," Fjalarsson said gesturing towards the door.

Mamoru matched the more casual tone, glad the captain seemed eager to position them both as imperial subjects against the foreign and often incomprehensible Alliance bureaucracy. "They know I'm coming of course," he said. "Surely they can't make too much trouble for us?'

"They'll check our papers time and again," Fjalarsson said, "In case the information changes from moment to moment. I doubt they'll cause you too much inconvenience past demanding your name ten times over and complaining they find it difficult to spell in their languages. It depends how anti-Imperial their people are. We once had one Alliance bastard –" he paused, looking sidelong at Mamoru. "Your pardon for my rough speech, Ambassador," he said.

"Please, go on," Mamoru said quickly.

" – he sent inspectors onto the ship, claiming their sensors had picked up contaminants, and confiscated all our rice. We had to buy food at short notice – there was nothing wrong with that rice, he just wanted to force us to eat their foreign muck all the way home."

"This was on your more regular trade route?" Naoe said.

"Yes," Fjalarsson said shortly. "They like the trade and our goods but they can't pass up a chance to show they think they're superior to us," he said to Mamoru, some of his old bite coming back to his voice.

"How unfortunate and narrow-minded of them," Mamoru said, hoping Naoe would not contribute further to the conversation. Naoe stayed silent, and within another minute, they were standing in the airlock. None of them spoke as it cycled.

Mamoru wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but the sight of a nearly empty dock was a disappointment. He stepped out and looked to left and right. This was it. He was outside the empire and could never return. The metal plates under his feet seemed insubstantial for a moment, then he pulled himself together enough to ask Fjalarsson to repeat what he had just said.

"This way, Ambassador," Fjalarsson said, tilting his head to indicate they should move to the right. "That's where it says our papers will be checked." He gestured at a screen opposite the ship's airlock.

Mamoru turned and walked in the indicated direction without comment. He was illiterate, he realized with a shock. It was an unsettling feeling; he could not truly remember a time when he could not read. He'd never learnt a foreign language, and had forced only a couple of terms for greetings into his head during the voyage. Who, he thought, knew if they were even in the correct language? The Alliance used many different ones, and he only had Naoe's word that he had phonetically learnt phrases for the most common one spoken. Be calm, he told himself. Why would Nagi lie?

"You can speak their language?" he said, as more people began to be seen.

"Enough to get by," Fjalarsson said. "Maybe I should handle this for you, Ambassador Takatori?" he said, sounding just a little sympathetic, as if he knew what it was like to be young and so far from all that was known.

"Lt Naoe speaks some of the language," Mamoru said.

"Perhaps it would be better if we didn't reveal that to them yet," Naoe said quietly as a noisy group of men passed.

"It might be easier if I spoke to them," Fjalarsson said. He sighed. "Well, Ambassador, let me be blunt. I'm not an Imperial like you – it might take away some of their hostility."

"Very well," Mamoru said. "Thank you." It was not the time to argue that he and Naoe should not be treated with hostility at all, that he was an accredited diplomat – no matter what that concealed – and was expected. Let this be over, he thought, and I can live quietly and unobserved.

"This is the Stationmaster's office," Fjalarsson said, and held the door for him.

Inside, Mamoru met the flat stares of an office full of people, and was glad he was practiced in keeping his face expressionless. They saw an enemy from past wars, he supposed, brazenly wearing a uniform familiar from villains on entertainment programmes and from propaganda. He felt like a scared child, and was glad when Naoe glanced at him, and he felt a slight touch between his shoulders, reminding him to step forward. Captain Fjalarsson started talking, and one of the workers rose to bring them to another room, leaving then and returning with a woman Mamoru hadn't seen in the office outside. He was glad then to have Fjalarsson present, for it was quickly apparent she did not know the Imperial language, and was forced therefore to take out some petty spite on the Tsubame Maru's captain, rather than on Mamoru himself. Mamoru caught his name several times, and leant forward.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's nothing," Fjalarsson said. "It's something a lot of Alliance people try – they pretend they don't understand how imperial names work, and put the family name in the wrong place in their papers so they can make a stink when you're found to be carrying incorrect documentation. They think it's funny – you can see what a planet of comedians you'll have to deal with."

It was good, Mamoru thought, that Fjalarsson's impatience had made him obviously see himself on the same side as him. It was so much less likely he would try to cause some trouble for Mamoru at this late stage. He smiled politely at the woman and said, as clearly and slowly as he could, "My name is Takatori no Mamoru." That his accent was horrific, he had no doubt, but she clearly understood him, and he saw a slight flicker in her expression, as if she wondered how much else he might have understood. She said little else, scribbling on her tablet and finally holding it out to him, her tone at least polite.

"She wants you to sign where she's indicating," Fjalarsson said.

Mamoru took out his seal and pressed it to the spot. The woman looked at the characters and said something in annoyance.

"She wants you to sign as well," Fjalarsson said.

"Is the technology not compatible?" Mamoru said pleasantly. "My name seems to be showing on her screen." He took the stylus and tablet without complaint, and wrote his name neatly. The woman glared at the sets of characters, side by side, and then dealt with Naoe, much faster and without apparent obstruction. Finally they were free to go, cards covered in Alliance writing and numbers being handed to them with warnings that it was necessary to carry them at all times. Mamoru decided he would count it as a minor victory that his name on the card was in both imperial characters and the Alliance script.

"If that's how they treat diplomats, how will they treat your crew?" he asked.

Fjalarsson laughed shortly. "I don't think she believed you are a diplomat. She kept asking what sort of ambassador has one aide. No doubt when your people arrived she didn't believe they were your aides because you weren't with them. And she'll have held your youth against you. It's a game, Ambassador Takatori, but not one she can play against this ship's crew, we have our Alliance paperwork well enough in order for a short dock stay. We won't need to go down to the planet."

"My people are already here?" Mamoru said, hating how eager he sounded.

Fjalarsson shrugged. "They should be, they set off well before us. I'd say they've been here a week at least. Your chief aide should be in the public areas of the station, waiting to take you down to the planet. Well, Ambassador, I must take my leave."

"Captain Fjalarsson, I know you were not to blame for the incident that occurred," Mamoru said.

"The assailant must have been mentally unstable," Naoe said.

Fjalarsson nodded. Mamoru could see that no matter what had truly been behind the attempt on his life, Fjalarsson had accepted it would be reported as a case of madness and racial hatred. The man had already put his seal to Naoe's report stating that, his relief very apparent that his crew was not to be reported as possible Alliance provocateurs. "I have a parting gift for you," Fjalarsson said. "It's not much, but may be of some small use. This world is so far from normal Imperial trade routes – I'll have a crate of tea sent down for you."

"Thank you," Mamoru said, and, as the man bowed deeply, "Goodbye, Captain. A safe journey home." Fjalarsson walked away without saying anything more.

"Well," Naoe said in an all-too-accurate impersonation of Fjalarsson's voice. "He really must be worried about my report."

"Not worried enough to do more than get us off his ship as fast as possible or to help us find our people," Mamoru muttered. "Where should we start, do you think?" He grimaced in frustration. "Do these Alliance people really know we're a diplomatic mission?"

"They were informed," Naoe said. "The station personnel may simply be uncouth. Or they may not approve of our presence."

"Or they may know I'm not much of an ambassador," Mamoru said. The warning flicker of Naoe's eyes towards a camera silenced him. "When can we speak freely?" he said more quietly.

"Soon," Naoe said. "When we're really alone. Just a little longer."

Mamoru turned away, then stopped at the feel of pressure on his shoulder, almost like a hand squeezing gently. He leant against it slightly and watched, sidelong, as Naoe's brief smile crossed his face. It made him look different, younger and more approachable. More, Mamoru thought, like the person he'd met before his life was destroyed. Before he found his new friend had been set to investigate him. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, the levels of bluff and double-bluff involved in hiding that the deception practiced on him had not, in the end been deception at all, and that Nagi was truly his friend. Only a friend would have had himself sent into such an obscure exile, Mamoru thought.

"What's funny?" Naoe asked.

"Everything," Mamoru said. "Let's see if we can find anyone."

* * *

They found Mamoru's chief aide, a man of late middle age, anxiously dividing his attention between examining screens that told him how long the Tsubame Maru had been docked and asking an irritated station worker how one might go about locating newly arrived persons.

"Hayashi-san!" a younger man hissed, running up and gesturing at Mamoru. Hayashi hurried over, relief clear in his face. He and the other man bowed deeply.

"Takatori-sama," Hayashi said. "I'm glad you have arrived safely."

"Thank you," Mamoru said. "How long have you been here, Hayashi-san? And – it's Ishikawa, isn't it?"

"Yes, Ambassador," the younger man said shyly, bowing again.

Mamoru hid his unease. Apart from the briefest of meetings and his study of the scant personnel files of his staff, he knew nothing about them. They were all, their files suggested, easy to get along with, and dedicated workers. He hoped both aspects were true.

"We've been here for eight days, Ambassador," Hayashi said. "The rest of your staff have already been sent down to prepare the embassy and residence for you. I felt, however, that the budget allocated to us might not withstand the demands of us needing to come up to the station again. It was much more cost-effective for us to stay. We have passage to the surface booked for tomorrow, and I have reserved rooms for you and Lt Naoe tonight. I had this information sent to the Tsubame Maru, they should have sent your personal luggage to the rooms for you by now."

Mamoru weighed that against the likelihood of a small final malice disguised as misunderstanding, and felt sure he'd see none of his belongings till he was on the planet itself. Hayashi seemed pleasant enough, he thought, and competent. If he and Naoe really did find they had only the clothes they stood up in, no doubt the man could arrange to fill any small needs they'd have.

"Thank you," he said. "Is there anything we need do today?"

"No," Hayashi said. He paused. "Perhaps you might prefer to wear civilian clothing for the rest of the day, Ambassador? While the station personnel may be ignorant of Lt Naoe's uniform . . ."

"I thought our arrival on station might have been rather more formal than it was," Mamoru said ruefully. "If my luggage has indeed arrived, let me change, by all means." Hayashi gestured as to which way they should go; Mamoru wondered if it would be worse to borrow clothes from him or Ishikawa. They were both taller; though Hayashi was only a little taller than he, he was broad shouldered and his clothes would make Mamoru look ridiculous. Ishikawa was the same build as Mamoru, but almost a full head taller. Neither prospect was appealing.

"The rooms are very basic," Hayashi said in apology as they came to an establishment offering accommodation. He led them in and keyed open a door. "This has two rooms, that next door is a single room. I hope it's acceptable for you and Lt Naoe?"

Naoe went in ahead of them, and examined the doors and security fittings carefully. "It's acceptable," he said, the first words he'd said to Hayashi and Ishikawa.

Mamoru felt some of the tension leave him at the sight of his bags from the ship. He would not have to appear undignified in front of his staff just yet, he thought in relief.

"If you would like to change, Ambassador," Hayashi said. "We can find a place to eat – there are a few places that serve food of varying quality." He bowed again and left with Ishikawa.

"A word with you, Lt Naoe," Mamoru said, in case Naoe was about to flee as well. He shut the door and heaved a sigh. "What do you think of them?"

Naoe shrugged. "He's done his job so far. Ishikawa's afraid to put a foot wrong, I think. Maybe I should ask him some questions." A quick smile flickered over his face at Mamoru's expression. "I'm joking. He's unsettled, Hayashi's unsettled – they've probably been spat on every day they've been here."

"Wonderful," Mamoru said. "Let's change – you can borrow something of mine. Don't look like that," he said as Naoe's expression turned sceptical. "Ishikawa's far too tall to have anything to fit you, and you don't want us to be spat on, do you?"

"Hayashi said they probably wouldn't recognize my uniform," Naoe grumbled, but accepted the clothes Mamoru held out.

The food was strange, but edible. Mamoru was glad for the general lack of conversation during the meal, and even more glad to retire to his rooms afterwards. There was nothing he cared to do on the station, other than leave it. It was very odd to be by himself, to turn about and not see Naoe. He tried to watch the news and then an entertainment programme, but gave up in frustration. He hadn't really known what it would be like to be somewhere he couldn't speak the language, he thought. He really would have to learn, it was intolerable. At last he did the only thing left to him, and went to bed.

* * *

The chime of the door alarm woke Mamoru abruptly, leaving him muzzy headed and longing for more sleep.

"What is it?" he asked, hitting the communication button on his second try.

"It's morning," Naoe's voice said. "You need to get up."

Mamoru covered his eyes with his hand, then grimly forced himself out of bed. The water in the shower was blessedly hot, hotter than it had ever been on board the ship. He felt vaguely resentful to leave it. At last he felt fit to dress and emerge. A sudden thought took him, and he pressed the button for Hayashi's room.

"How much notice do you expect to be taken of our arrival?" he asked.

There was a moment's pause, then, "The other embassy staff seem to have attracted some attention, Your Excellency. They were featured on a news bulletin."

"Thank you," Mamoru said. He wondered which was better, to be noticed and treated as his rank required even if it was only a screen for his exile, or to be unnoticed and sink into the obscurity that Naoe promised would be safest. Neither option mattered to him for the next few moments, he decided, and took out his uniform, brushing it down carefully. He should at least look the part, he supposed.

Over breakfast, he paid distant attention to Hayashi and Ishikawa's words. He had known already that the transport to the surface was not a shuttle, but a space elevator. It was clearly safe, he told himself, if the Alliance personnel could use it to transport goods to the surface, and if the rest of his staff had already successfully used it to reach their new home. It would probably be better than the shuttle that had taken him to the Tsubame Maru – an uncomfortable trip that had made little pretence that he was anything but another trade item for export. For a moment he saw his home, the world he had never in his life left before he had been told his real name, his real family. The Takatori name had meant nothing to him but far-reaching political scandal till he'd known he was one of them. He'd had eighteen months of a new life, the realization he had some family members still alive and an inherited, short-lived commission in the navy – the last more for show than any other purpose, he thought, as he'd never set foot on a naval ship. All that was gone now. There was no use in wondering what had happened to his grandfather, or to the child he'd been told was his oldest brother's illegitimate daughter. There was nothing he could do for them, nor they for him.

"Sir?" Ishikawa said hesitantly.

Mamoru dragged his attention back to the present. "You were talking about our budget?" he said. "Please, go on."

"It's just that as a small embassy, on a planet removed from regular Imperial routes, we have a smaller budget than other embassies," Ishikawa said. "In fact, we seem to have a smaller budget even than we'd been led to believe. We'll be able to celebrate the major festivals, and to host some events during the year, as long as they're not too elaborate. The vast majority of the budget will go towards daily expenses." He looked shyer than ever as he said, "Even though the staff is so small, we must be careful to economise where possible, if we spend more than our allocated budget we may simply be left to pay the excess ourselves."

Mamoru nodded, sipping what he supposed was a cup of coffee. Hayashi would no doubt be able to deal with monetary matters. "How often do we expect Imperial ships to dock?" he said.

"Not more frequently than one every two years," Hayashi said. "We are very far off the trade routes," he said, as if he felt this would disappoint. "We may wish to order future necessities before the Tsubame Maru leaves."

"I'll leave that in your hands," Mamoru said. He shoved the cup away from him. "This is vile," he said. "I'll be glad to drink something more palatable when we reach the surface."

"I hope we all may," Hayashi said. "Unfortunately, this planet does not grow tea."

Mamoru stared at him. "Why not?" he said. "Don't they have hydroponics?"

"They prefer coffee, which is produced here," Hayashi said. "According to my information, they also grow very little rice. We must eat the local foods."

"Perhaps we should buy some more of Fjalarsson's supplies, to go along with his gift," Naoe said, leaving Mamoru to explain that a crate of tea was to be sent to the surface.

This really is exile, Mamoru thought, and forced himself to finish his breakfast. He might as well get used to it.

"Don't be nervous," Naoe said quietly as they waited to journey to the surface. "We probably won't even feel it move."

"That seems optimistic," Mamoru muttered. He looked more cheerfully at Naoe then. "I'm not nervous. The sooner we're down, the sooner we can be forgotten, right?"

"Right," Naoe said, very quietly. "Shhh."

Hayashi ushered Mamoru ahead of him through the doors that led to the space elevator. Mamoru was disappointed to find it seemed like just another part of the station. Most of it, he'd been told, was given over the delivery of goods to and from the station, and the space allocated to passengers seemed more a waiting room than part of a transport. He settled himself comfortably and watched some Alliance men and women start up a card game. After what seemed an interminable wait he felt a distinct lurching motion and supposed they had begun to descend.

"I told you that you were optimistic," he said to Naoe, ignoring Hayashi and Ishikawa's looks at his familiar tone.

Hours later, Mamoru was merely bored. There was nothing more he could be told about the embassy and the staff, and none of his three travel companions seemed able to make small talk. The Alliance personnel's card game had long since finished, and most of them were dozing. Mamoru felt that was probably the best use of the journey, but felt constrained not to let his dignity slip. It was with utter relief that he heard the announcement Hayashi translated as telling them that arrival was imminent. When the doors finally opened and he and the others could make their way out he felt his spirits lifted simply from having only one more short trip to make before he would be in a house that would be his.

He was surprised, on his exit into the public areas of the spaceport to find a larger reception committee than he'd expected. Gathered around the small knot of what had to be his staff were men and women with cameras and recorders, all of whom turned his way at once. Mamoru looked at them calmly, sure Naoe and the others had noticed his flinch.

"Takatori-sama, Hayashi-san!" one of the staff said rather desperately, trying to beat the reporters to them. "We have cars, this way please!"

"Good afternoon, Ambassador Takatori!" one of the reporters yelled in an almost unrecognizable attempt at the imperial language.

"Good afternoon," Mamoru said, hoping he did not appear too fearful. "Excuse me, please." Beside him Hayashi was saying much the same in the reporters' language, he assumed. All he could think was he was very glad for Naoe's presence, for though they continued yelling questions and tried to get in the way, no reporter touched him, nor managed to detain their group. Scant minutes later, Naoe was holding a door for him, and Mamoru emerged into blazing white sunlight, the heat as heavy as a blow between his shoulders.

"This way, sir," the man who had greeted them gasped, and led them at a fast pace to three waiting large, black cars.

Mamoru resisted the urge to dive into the shade, and climbed in as gracefully as he could. The cool of the air conditioning seemed like the most pleasurable thing he had ever experienced. He smiled in relief at Hayashi, who entered with as much obvious pleasure as he had. The man who had greeted him climbed in as well, closing the door.

"I'm Mori, Your Excellency," he said. "We have the residency ready for you. I hope you are not too warm? This is the hottest part of the day."

"I'm fine, thank you," Mamoru said. He looked out the window. "Where is Lt Naoe?"

"In one of the other cars," Mori said, and though his tone was polite, and Mamoru did not catch any glance between him and Hayashi, he knew for certain that they did not approve of Naoe's presence and, no doubt, feared him for both his political influence and his abilities. The Psi-Corps, Mamoru mused, were perhaps even more friendless than a hastily legitimized creature fallen from grace such as himself.

Fifteen minutes later the cars drew in to a gate set in a high wall. Mamoru looked at the crowd gathered in front of it and made his face fall into expressionless calm.

"Should I say anything?" he said. "I have a brief statement – nothing controversial," he added quickly, in case they thought he was going to try and claim asylum.

"It might help," Mori said. "It could make us look better to them. We've already had requests for interviews with you, I've vetted those asking clearance to hold interviews in the embassy itself."

"A simple, short greeting would be best," Hayashi said. "Let's get the cars in first, or we'll be stuck here."

Mamoru nodded. It was a relief to think he'd have clear ground behind him if his nerve broke. The mental image of him scuttling for safety made him want to laugh; only the thought that he'd seem a child to his staff kept him silent as they came into a courtyard and drew to a halt before a large building of pinkish stone. He exited the car, back into the oppressive heat, taking note of Naoe getting out of the second car.

"I'm going to say hello to the reporters," he said as Naoe came up to him. "The others think it'll be good for our image."

"They want you to walk up to an unknown Alliance crowd?" Naoe said. "Absolutely not."

"You'll be there," Mamoru said. "You'll keep me safe." He thought then that Naoe's disapproval was perhaps political, adding meekly, "I won't say anything I shouldn't. Mori said the press already wants interviews, don't you think it's better to appear harmlessly friendly?"

"Say hello and how much you like their planet, and then disengage," Naoe said grudgingly, his face grim as he looked at the crowd.

"That's the sort of thing Hayashi advised," Mamoru said.

"Huh," Naoe muttered. "All right. Let's go."

He was just being protective, Mamoru told himself as he, Naoe and Hayashi walked back to the gate. Naoe had no reason to doubt him politically, even given their circumstances. He stopped before the crowd, a pleasant smile on his face.

"Good day, I am Takatori no Mamoru," he said, Hayashi coming in smoothly after him to translate. "I'm very glad to have reached your world after a long journey, and look forward to taking up my duties here. I very much hope our work here will be beneficial to relations between our peoples." He bowed slightly, thinking longingly of shade and cool.

The reporters began yelling questions, Hayashi whispering his translations in Mamoru's ear.

"Why have you been given this job at such a young age? What is your opinion of the imperial seizure of the Alliance worlds Persephone and Demeter? I'd advise against answering that, Ambassador –"

"So would I," Naoe said grimly.

" – Are you married?"

"I'm very honoured to have been given this chance so early in life and will do my utmost to fulfill my duties as would an older person," Mamoru said. "I'm not married. Thank you for your questions."

"Let's go," Naoe said as the reporters began to call out again.

Mamoru felt an insistent pressure turning him, and gave in gracefully. "Thank you again," he said to the crowd, and walked away. The heat became heavier with every step, and he was glad to see Mori standing by the largest door of the building, ushering him inside. Stepping from the intense light into the building was for a moment like stepping into pitch-blackness, then his eyes began to adjust and he saw a large foyer with rooms leading off it on every side.

"A glass of water, sir?" Mori said, and a dark-haired young woman a few years Mamoru's senior stepped forward, holding out a tray of glasses.

Mamoru drained it in one long swallow, and took another, drinking more slowly. "It's rather hot," he said, and was glad to see smiles at the small joke.

"This is the embassy building, sir," Mori said. "The wing to the left you might like to use as your residency. It can be accessed through the embassy; there is no need to go outside. Perhaps once you have refreshed yourself you would like to meet the staff and be shown around?"

"Thank you," Mamoru said. "I'll need a few minutes to tidy myself." He caught Naoe's eye; the sooner he could make sure he hadn't said anything too embarrassing to the reporters the better. The cloakroom they were shown to seemed private enough, he thought. "I really wouldn't have said anything political to those people," he said. "Especially not over some issue that's over a century old. Was my lack of an answer something they can use?"

"You were all right," Naoe said. "If they want, they'll twist anything and everything. I bet that tabloid reporter will claim she got some sort of exclusive, wait and see."

"How do you know there was a tabloid reporter?" Mamoru said.

"Oh, Ambassador Takatori! Are you . . . married?" Naoe said in a simpering tone. "Hardly a respectable newspaper, I'd imagine."

Mamoru felt tension leave him in a rush. If Naoe was relaxed enough to joke, he thought, things must be all right between them. "Nagi –" he said, reaching out for Naoe's hand.

"I'll have to carry out a total security sweep of this place," Naoe said, letting just their fingertips touch. "It's a new build, I was told; there could be any number of surveillance devices embedded. I doubt Mori will have found everything. It's ridiculous you were given only one trained security person apart from me."

"But you're worth ten men," Mamoru said, stepping closer.

"We don't necessarily want that known," Naoe said, and put a hand on Mamoru's chest to stop his embrace. "Did you hear anything I just said about surveillance devices?" he said, amusement lurking in his voice. "The Tsubame Maru is still in dock," he went on, quieter. "We're a nine-days wonder for this place. Let us be cut off from contact with the empire, let us be quiet and boring and totally unnewsworthy. It shouldn't take long, Mamoru."

"All right," Mamoru said, and turned away to wash his face. Naoe was right, of course. It was only a matter of time before he would be as free as he could ever expect. He just had to wait.

The staff were assembled in a large room, all neat and looking at him expectantly. Mamoru looked them over, noting they were a mix of imperials as well as subjects of the empire, some of whom appeared to have some imperial ancestry. It was a mix designed to look good for curious Alliance eyes, he thought. He wondered how they would be to work with – what could have induced them to volunteer for such a mission? Or what, he thought with grim humour, had they done to deserve being condemned to this? They were a mix of near-retirement age, like Hayashi, and very young and seemingly inexperienced, like Ishikawa. It seemed obvious that this was not seen as an important post by the government, for those sent as the staff as well as for Mamoru.

"Good afternoon," he said. "I'm glad to be here with you at last. I am Takatori no Mamoru, commissioned to take up the duties of Imperial Ambassador on the Alliance world Alcmene. I look forward to working with you all and I'm sure we will admirably represent the empire on this world. This is Lt Naoe, my political advisor, who accompanied me on the journey. I'm very pleased to meet you all."

They all bowed deeply and straightened, looking at Naoe and him with curiosity. Mamoru wondered what they were thinking and felt sorry for a moment that Naoe's abilities were not such as could tell him that. Then he was glad to remain ignorant, for surely their thoughts were a mixture of contempt for his family's actions and for his youth, and nervousness about Naoe, who was holding himself stiff and gloweringly silent, the very image of an emotionless Psi-Corps character in a sensational drama. Mamoru had vacillated back-and-forth over how to describe him; "bodyguard" was insulting to Naoe, "jailer" was accurate but demeaning to Mamoru, while describing him as the political officer for the embassy would no doubt have caused the staff en masse to worry they were suspected of treason. "Friend" would simply not have been believed, and Naoe would have been disgusted with him. It was useless to think more on it, he decided as Hayashi came forward to make introductions. It was also useless to try and keep the names he already knew matched with the people he was meeting in his memory, he realized. He'd study their pictures later, he thought, as a headache started. For now, it was enough to remember those people he'd actually spoken with before seeing the staff in a group. Thankfully the gathering that followed was not long; a few drinks and snacks, and the chance to affix a couple more names to faces. Ito, a quiet man who was to be his personal secretary, Laurent, who was, it seemed, versed in Alliance law and was to be both his lawyer and the head of immigration, Kishida, whom Hayashi was introducing –

"Kishida-san," Mamoru said. "You're cultural information and outreach, right?"

"Yes," Kishida, a heavy-set man in his forties, said. "I've held a similar position before, though as part of an office's staff. I drew up some educational material suitable for this world during our journey, when it is properly prepared I would be very glad to show it to you. This is Martin-san, who will be working in the same area."

Mamoru smiled at the woman who had waited in the hall earlier. The Alliance would expect to see women in public positions, he'd been told. It was good to have one in the cultural outreach department, especially one that looked foreign enough to Alliance eyes to be merely exotic, not threatening. An imperial grandparent, perhaps, he thought, looking at her eyes. "Thank you for the water," he said. "I don't think I've ever been as hot in my life."

"It's very hard for us all," she said. "Even a little exposure without protection in the afternoon is exhausting. You are a little sunburnt, Takatori-sama, just from your short delay outside."

Mamoru sighed as he left them; his face was feeling hot and he could only hope it would not be painful. It was a good thing he would not have to go outside to get to and from the embassy, he thought, suddenly wanting to be shown around his new home far more than to meet anyone else. He managed to stay pleasant until the room had cleared, and all through the tour of the embassy that followed, admiring the public areas, the offices for various staff members and his own, imposing large and empty. It was with the purest pleasure he agreed he would like to see the wing set aside as the residency, and was genuine in his admiration for the large reception rooms he was shown.

"I must ask Ishikawa if the budget will allow some furniture," he said quietly to Naoe, and hid his amusement as Hayashi hurried to say money had already been allocated to properly fit out all the rooms.

At last he was shown his private rooms, which had been fitted out at least in part.

"If there is anything you prefer as regards styles or particular pieces of furniture –" Hayashi said, showing him another two reception rooms, an office and bedrooms, all with their own bathrooms. "There is a small kitchen, but you may prefer to take your meals for the moment in the building set aside for the staff, until sufficient kitchen staff have been employed?"

"That will be fine," Mamoru said. "Are you all living on embassy grounds?"

"Just for the moment," Hayashi said. "It's often preferable to have staff living in the local area, it sends a good message, I think. The staff have been working to have the embassy at least in minimal order; as a result there was not time to find them alternate accommodation. It's a little basic for everyone - some of our requests for necessary furnishings seem to have gone astray." He smiled, looking as tired as Mamoru felt. "That's a hazard of any new diplomatic mission."

"Please thank everyone for their efforts on my behalf," Mamoru said, suddenly touched at the thought of them hurriedly buying beds and tables.

"Will you eat with us now, or would you prefer something sent here?" Hayashi said. "It's been a tiring day, perhaps you'd prefer the quiet?"

"Thank you," Mamoru said gratefully. "Perhaps something could be sent over?" He was sure they wanted to gossip about him, and felt it would be unfair to cause them any delay. In their place he was sure he'd be eager to dissect every piece of information.

"And Lt Naoe?" Hayashi said.

"I'll eat here," Naoe said. "And I'll take the second bedroom."

"Ah. We were unsure. I'll have your things brought immediately. Good evening, Ambassador Takatori, Lt Naoe."

Hayashi bowed and left. Mamoru was sure he'd caught a quick sympathetic glance. It was good to think Hayashi was well-disposed towards him, he thought, but he would have to show they needed to be well-disposed towards Naoe as well. He sat down and heaved a sigh.

"Remember what I said about security," Naoe said as he opened his mouth.

"Yes," Mamoru said obediently.

"It's probably all right for tonight. I'll just have a preliminary look round," Naoe said. "Don't eat all the food when it comes."

"I'll try not to," Mamoru assured him, and closed his eyes, letting Naoe do what he could without equipment. He was asleep almost immediately, and remembered little of being woken to eat, or of staggering thereafter into his bedroom, where he slept soundlessly and dreamlessly until morning.

* * *

The following two days passed quickly, full of the formal requirements of setting the embassy up to the Alliance's requirements. Mamoru felt he had never written his name so often before, and cursed the Alliance's insistence that a personal seal was not enough. When he was not reading or signing documents, he was being drilled in simple phrases in the planet's language so that he could at least recognize when people greeted him or commented on the day's heat. His progress in that was slower than he liked, which Hayashi mildly put down to his impatience.

"I need to be able to read and write this language as well," Mamoru said, rebelling against repeating queries after a listener's family's health.

"That will come in time, sir. Two days is hardly enough to become proficient in all areas," Hayashi said. "For now, if you could --?"

Mamoru sighed. "Is your wife well? Is your children well?" he parroted.

"Are your children well?"

"Are your children well? Is the . . . the dog of the uncle of your mother well?"

"I'm glad to see you can adapt these phrases, sir," Hayashi said dryly, "Though I doubt you will need that one in particular." He put away his notes, neatly. "Perhaps you would benefit from a break from language issues. You must present your credentials to the authorities; we must discuss the particulars of your appearance before the government's leader."

"I've never dealt with a planetary governor," Mamoru said. "Exactly how formal am I meant to be?"

"Given that the planet is of minor importance, has only been opened for civilian settlement in the last thirty years and, it seems, was picked for development in the first place only to claim it formally in case one day we should decide to wander without any apparent plan in this direction, I should say, not very formal," Hayashi said.

Mamoru hid a grin at his waspish tone, Hayashi turning in his mind suddenly into a person with his own opinions and preferences who was, perhaps, just as irritated with Mamoru's continued and sustained inability to pronounce some of the more outlandish Alliance sounds as was Mamoru himself. "No court robes, then?" he said.

"No court robes," Hayashi agreed. "The person you must meet is Tomek Kaminski, he's effectively the planetary governor, but is officially the head of the development council, as Alcmene is still in its settlement phase. I would advise that you bring only a small number of us with you, there's no need for all the staff to present themselves."

"I'll need you, of course," Mamoru said. "Who else?"

"Kishida, to talk about cultural affairs, and a couple of non-imperials," Hayashi said. "I'd suggest Laurent, as head of immigration - his command of the language is very good – and Martin, her previous work was in groups designing educational programmes for children. She can answer questions about coming to speak in schools and colleges, and Alliance people like to see a mix of men and women working together, it reassures them we aren't quite the ogres their dramas tell them. And Lt Naoe?" Hayashi finished delicately, his tone making it clear he would show no preference for or against Naoe's presence.

"Lt Naoe, of course," Mamoru said.

"It will be assumed he's a military attaché," Hayashi said. "He is on our list of personnel by name, not rank – you will of course not say what branch he is from?"

"No," Mamoru said. "Of course not – Naoe-san said he didn't think the Alliance even knew about the Psi-Corps."

"These people may not," Hayashi said, "However, as the Corps is no secret at home, of course the Alliance knows of their existence. Whether they believe in their abilities or not is another matter. I've read some scholarly articles on the Corps, and there are a wide range of theories, from elite combat units trained from infancy up by a cruel and inhumane regime that the Alliance must wipe from the face of the galaxy to suppositions they are the modern remnants of sects of warrior monks who practice outmoded religious devotions that have nonetheless sustained such groups' existence within imperial society for centuries. No matter what the theory, there is usually at least one overly-romantic illustration of ancient warriors," he finished, a tiny smile on his face.

"Bizarre," Mamoru said in astonishment. "I wonder if Lt Naoe knows?"

"I don't have those articles any more," Hayashi said apologetically. "Ah, there is one more thing," he said. "Although I have not had this experience myself in other diplomatic missions, I have heard that we may be obliged to assure the authorities that the non-imperials on staff are free persons." He looked seriously at Mamoru's blank expression. "I've heard of at least one occurrence where it was assumed such persons were slaves."

"That's outrageous!" Mamoru said, appalled.

"No doubt the result of an ignorant person who believed too much propaganda," Hayashi said. "As this is an out of the way world I thought I should bring it up – I think it more likely to be a popular charge brought against us by the press, if it happens at all."

"How could they even think –" Mamoru started. He took a deep breath. There was no point in losing his temper. "I'm sure you're right," he said. "It's ignorance. No one would think such things if they really knew us."

"It's just a possibility you should be aware of. Shall we practice how you should greet Mr Kaminski?" Hayashi said. He listened to Mamoru's practiced speech, nodding in approval. "Then I will translate – while I will be able to repeat the whole greeting at once, it would be better if you paused every so often to allow a translation. It looks more immediate. If I might suggest, do not bow so deeply, sir, we do not wish to appear too formal, and they are not used to it, it looks very submissive."

Mamoru nodded, and started again, leaving pauses as directed and bowing less deeply. Hayashi then turned to face him, smiled very broadly and spoke loudly and quickly in the planetary language, abruptly thrusting forward his hand at the end. Mamoru paused, then gingerly reached out and shook it, remembering Alliance characters in dramas.

"Good," Hayashi said, "Did you catch any of that? Don't worry, I'll be translating."

"I think I heard my family name," Mamoru said. "Will he really speak that fast?"

"I can't say," Hayashi said. "I don't know how much contact he will have had with people who speak a different language. That was the normal speed at which the language is spoken. Now, please don't hesitate when you shake his hand, and you don't need to bow at the same time. Grip his hand more firmly as well, that's how men do it. And when in casual conversation, remember to smile a lot to dispel images of us they may have as dour and humourless."

"All right," Mamoru said in determination, and listened hard as Hayashi spoke again, this time catching what sounded like a query after his health. "I'm well, thank you," he said, shaking hands firmly and smiling broadly. The image of how they must look came into his mind, and he laughed helplessly. "I'm sorry," he said, catching his breath, "It's just so ridiculous! I feel like a little child hanging on to someone in case I get lost."

"Different cultures have different customs," Hayashi said, amused. "Let's try again." The humour in his voice was more apparent as he went on, "Luckily, it's not necessary to try and train the whole staff in the time we have. Mori, for example, would be very bad, and it will be enough perhaps if we can persuade Lt Naoe to at least bow."

Mamoru felt a pang at laughing, and told himself he was not mocking Naoe in particular. It just felt so comforting to be edging towards friendship with someone else.

* * *

"You can't expect me not to wear my uniform," Naoe said.

He was not yet annoyed, Mamoru saw, and could therefore be reasoned with. Rage made Naoe terrifying, but irritation merely made him dig in his heels and refuse even the most reasonable of suggestions. He tried to look conciliatory.

"Please consider what Hayashi-san said about the Corps' existence being known. Imagine the difficulty we'll have in living quietly if they realize what that means about you – it'll help us sink out of notice that much faster if you seem like everyone else." Naoe was getting a mulish look upon his face, he saw with dread, and pushed on. "Surely it would be all right for you to treat it as an undercover assignment?"

"If I'm to be present at an official function of this nature, I should be there in my official capacity," Naoe said with prickly dignity. "And we both know I have to be there."

"It just seems to me that you could observe more easily –" Mamoru started. He stopped as Naoe's expression took on a condescending edge that said more clearly than words that someone as pitifully limited in his experience as Mamoru could not possibly have an opinion worth expressing on such matters. "It's not like you haven't been more than willing to go undercover before," he snapped, knowing it was unfair to both of them.

Naoe just looked at him, his face washed clean of any expression whatsoever, then turned away. "Lend me something unmemorable," he said in a low and bitter voice.

Hearing the thread of shame in his voice, Mamoru tried to hold on to his annoyance and sense of victory in vain. Naoe was good at pretence and manipulating people, he reminded himself. The knowledge that he had heard hurt as well as shame was too much, however. "Nagi –" he said, to be forestalled by Naoe simply turning his back fully. Thorough searching over the past days had allowed Naoe grudgingly admit that the private rooms were free from surveillance, so Mamoru carefully put his hands on Naoe's shoulders, then slid one arm about him in an embrace. "I know you were only doing what you had to," he said, and fell silent. Weeks of constrained discretion and the terrors of the time before he'd known for sure he would be allowed live had left him unable to speak freely. He pulled at Naoe's shoulder till he turned to face him. If he could not speak -- Mamoru thought, trying to touch his lips to Naoe's. He staggered as Naoe freed himself with a push from his power.

"I can't," Naoe said, flat and hard, stepping back. "Not if you – I can't." He walked off, the door opening itself ahead of him and closing behind him with a carefully restrained sound.

Mamoru stood a moment, staring into nothing, then went to his room and flung open his wardrobe. He took out a dove grey jacket and matching trousers – they would not be, he thought, too foreign in appearance for the politicians he would meet, nor for the reporters who would almost certainly be there, and he had planned to wear them himself. Now he took them to Naoe's room and knocked politely.

"Yes," Naoe said wearily from within, just an acknowledgement of his presence, no more.

Mamoru went in and laid the clothes carefully over a chair. Naoe was sitting on his bed, head bowed, his gaze downcast. The last of the day's sunlight from one of the small windows caught the jacket's lining as it slipped open, turning it from a restrained matching grey to bright blue. It was one of Mamoru's better outfits from his brief time as a rich man, and he hoped it would find favour. "I thought this would suit you," he said. "It should fit properly, we're more or less the same size."

"Thank you," Naoe said, still engrossed in looking at the floor between his feet.

Mamoru wished he could have Naoe back as he had been before the reality had been revealed, even if that person was false and this silent, moody man was the truth of him. He wasn't quite sure what to do with someone like this, and had thought that once they were free of cameras and spies things would change back the way they had been. "Nagi?" he said.

Naoe stood and walked over to look at the clothes, lifting a sleeve for a moment before gently placing it down again. "Really, thank you," he said. He didn't look at Mamoru as he continued, "I did it to protect you. I told you that."

"You did," Mamoru agreed. The silence dragged heavily. "Are we still friends?" he asked, glad he could sound as if he were merely asking the time.

Naoe looked over at him in startlement. He stepped close and put the palm of one hand on Mamoru's cheek, and didn't resist when Mamoru took his arm to pull him closer still. "I wasn't blaming you," Mamoru said quietly. "Well, all right, I suppose I was. And I'm sorry. You had your reasons – you could tell me now, couldn't you?"

"I think I'm out of the habit of talking," Naoe said ruefully. He put his other hand on the other side of Mamoru's face and kissed him. Mamoru flung his arms about him, crushing them tightly together. He felt a light force pressing over him and shivered in excitement at the thought Naoe would use his ability at such a time. He tried to edge Naoe back towards his bed, but Naoe simply wrapped his arms round him and stayed where he was for another moment before breaking the kiss. "I have to meet with Mori," he said hoarsely.

"Now?" Mamoru said. "It's getting late. Tell him you're with me, tell him I really need you," he said, laughing.

"I'm sorry," Naoe said. "It's for security. Anyway, you need to be rested for tomorrow."

"We would both sleep so well –" Mamoru wheedled. Naoe visibly vacillated, and looked at his watch. Mamoru grinned in triumph, then jumped as the communications panel on the desk rang.

Naoe held a warning finger up to his lips, and then the answer button depressed itself. "Naoe here," he said.

"Lt Naoe? It's Mori."

"I'll be right there," Naoe said. "Please have the test results ready."

"Yes," Mori said. He didn't get to say anything else before Naoe ended the call.

"I have to go," Naoe said, pressing a final quick kiss against Mamoru's mouth. He straightened his hair quickly and walked smartly for the door, pausing to look back. "Of course we're still friends," he said, and left.

Mamoru sank onto the edge of the bed and let himself fall back. He was happy, he thought, for the first time in a long, long while.

* * *

Final Round (Survival of the Hottest Woman)

2008-08-29T13:48:18Z

Final Round

Top 40 OTP/OT3 Countdown

2008-08-24T13:51:05Z

This was a very hard one to get done! I'd like to thank my team of helpers, because without them, this list would not have come together. No, really.

Love to lady_ganesh, cleflink, shayheyred, veleda_k, emerald_embers, solitaryjane, neko_myka, and nephitegirl. If I missed your name, it wasn't intentional. Please drop me a line and I'll rectify asap. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

[40-31][30-21][20-11][The Top Ten]

Thank you for showing up to vote every week!

Call for help!

2008-08-23T18:03:29Z

The top 40 OTP Countdown should begin soon. I'm just having a bit of a problem.

If you are online and can spare a few minutes, could fans of the following pairings/ot3s hit me up @ animadri@livejournal.com:

Tezuka Kunimitsu/Fuji Syuusuke (Prince of Tennis), Eclipse/Raenef (Demon Diary), Leon/D (Petshop of Horrors), Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter), Conrad/Yuuri (Kyo Kara Maou!) , Seishirou/Subaru (X/1999) , and Wolfram/Yuuri (Kyo Kara Maou!).

Thanks in advance.

The End of the Road ...

2008-08-22T05:46:10Z

[Survival of the Hottest Woman - Final Preliminary Poll]

The final OTP Battle-thon Poll has been closed and results will be posted on Saturday, August 23rd. I desperately need your thoughts, comments, love, pics, recs... anything and everything. I need anything that you'd love to see included in the countdown. You can offer your top five otp moments, top five fic that pushed you kicking and screaming towards this certain ship ... Whatever you can offer will be greatly appreciated [especially for your favorite Clamp pairings - Kurogane/Fai (Tsubasa Resevoir Chronicles), Touya/Yuki (Card Captor Sakura), Watanuki/Doumeki (xxxHolic)]. Leave your offerings here as a comment. Comments are being screened.

[Fic] Going the Distance

2008-08-19T01:20:27Z

Title: Going the Distance
Fandom: Naruto
Pairings: Naruto/Neji, Naruto/Sasuke
Rating: R (for sex and language)
Warnings: AU of the Hollywood variety.
Word Count: 12K+ for the moment

Summary: When Neji offers Naruto a stunt job under the table it looks like his career is about to take off. But things take a turn for the worse when Naruto learns that he'll be under the direction of Sasuke, the man who walked out of his life five years earlier.

Authors Note: Many thanks to frackin_sweet for being my cheerleader/idea bouncer/characterization fixer and an all around awesome person. This thing has hit 18K and shows no sign of stopping so I apologize that I'm not able to post the beast in its entirety. You can find additional chapters as they come here

Chapter 1: Opportunities
Chapter 2: Confrontation
Chapter 3: Reconnaissance
Chapter 4: Confession

OTP Battle (The End)

2008-08-15T04:10:58Z

[OTP Battle-thon - Final Round/Survival of the Hottest Woman - Poll #3]

Hooch [Kingdom Hearts: Luxord/Xigbar: AU]

2008-08-11T22:04:58Z

And another to add to the line of unfinished AU's. My bad. This thing hit 10,000 words and just kept going. I'll try to finish it up as quick as possible, posting the rest here and at my journal under this tag.

Title: Hooch
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Characters/Pairings: Xigbar/Luxord, Organization XIII, various cameos and implied relationships
Rating: PG for now [language]
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is owned by Square Enix and Disney.
Summary: Roaring Twenties AU. A new speakeasy has opened up in town. When two rivaling gangs vie for its business, shit goes down as it only can when everyone's packing heat and the moral of the story is “kill or be killed.”
Notes: This isn’t my best work, no one except me cares about it, historical inaccuracy runs rampant, it’s probably too long for its own good, and yet I love it anyway, as I am a giant geek and this was amazing to write, even if it did give me a hard time. Written for yaoi_challenge. Much love for my beta tenchitenmei and anyone else who offered to look over this.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Voting Time!

2008-08-08T11:38:42Z

[Final Preliminary Round - OTP Battle/ Survival of the Hottest (Ladies) - Poll #2]

Blood Brothers - FFVII (Zack/Cloud) AU 1/5

2008-08-08T03:56:10Z

Title: Blood Brothers 1/5
Author: cleflink
Fandom/Pairing: Final Fantasy VII - Zack/Cloud
Rating: PG this section
A/N: So despite having four months to write this, I'm still having a few technical difficulties finishing the end off. *shamefaced* This is just the first part, there are at least two more coming depending on how much text I can fit into each post. I hope to have the whole thing posted within the week. *crosses fingers*
This story is going to jump back and forth through time a decent amount (so if it doesn't all make sense to begin with, that's the general idea). You can expect every other segment to be a flashback, but the flashbacks aren't exactly in order since the narrator himself doesn't really know the correct order of things all the time. Just a head's up.

Summary: Fantasy AU. Zack and Cloud are blood brothers - two souls bonded by one fate. But what happens when one brother is lost and the other has to sacrifice everything he is to try and save him?

They were blood brothers.

Two souls willing bound to each other through for as long as they both lived and longer. Their fates had been tied with the same thread – two lives joined as one through every hardship and happiness. Cloud belonged to Zack and Zack belonged to Cloud and there wasn’t a being, living, dead or otherwise, who could gainsay that.

It was more than just the bond that connected them, of course. Blood bonding was a strong, ancient magic, begun in love and strengthened in faith, with roots that ran deeper than family, race or kin. Only a pair who had already committed their hearts to each other could ever expect the magic to do the same to their souls.

Cloud would’ve followed Zack to the ends of the earth even without the bond – already had, in point of fact, the day he’d run away from home at barely six years old to stumble after the Gyptan caravan that had stopped in his village the fortnight before, chasing the bright-eyed little boy who’d befriended him as easily as breathing. Zack had been delighted to see him, Cloud remembered, rushing up to catch him as he stumbled into the firelight, worn, tired and hungry after five or more days in the wilderness. Zack had fought for him too, arguing hotly with the elders of the caravan when they’d wanted to send Cloud back. They’d allowed him to stay eventually, but only after Zack had sworn to leave with Cloud if they made him go.

They slept side by side that first night, and every night thereafter, curled up together on Zack’s narrow bunk with their knees touching and heads pillowed comfortably on each other’s shoulders. As the years passed, it became a common joke around the caravan that you could always know where one of them was by looking for the other – they were always together, as inseparable as if they’d been bound together at the wrists. Even their affinities balanced, Cloud’s air and iron for Zack’s iron and earth, and you would’ve had to be worse than a fool not to see the rightness between the pair of them. The Gyptans, wiser than most when it came such matters, simply smiled and left them to it, watching tolerantly as the pair of them grew side-by-side, learning to sing and dance and hunt and fight as a team, two sides of the same coin.

The blood bonding had come as a surprise to no one, even though Cloud had been barely thirteen at the time. Blood bonding was destined from birth, after all, and there was never any doubt that a blood pair was meant to be together, no matter how young they were when they found each other. Zack and Cloud’s bond marks appeared on their palms – a symbol of strength and solidarity – and the whole caravan helped them celebrate when they staggered back home that evening, tired but triumphant.

And if they’d become even closer afterwards – never more than an arm’s length apart at any time of the day or night – the rest of the caravan just made sure there were always two seats left together for them around the campfire and carried on as ever.

Cloud was fifteen when they left the caravan; Zack waving a cheery goodbye to the only life he’d ever known and Cloud trying to decide whether he ought to be feeling sadder than he was at going. He knew it was because blood pairs rarely formed lingering attachments to other people – they were too codependent to need to. Even the members of the caravan, who’d been his family all these years, couldn’t offer him anything he would be all that sorry to leave behind – not when Zack was coming with him.

Not that Cloud really minded, nor Zack for that matter – as long as they had each other, Zack had said that first morning, two hours down a nameless road with the caravan nothing more than a long-faded trundle of wheels behind them, they could take on anything.

And he had been right, or very nearly. Which is why Cloud hadn’t hesitated when Shinra’s mages had offered him a chance at making things right again, after everything had gone wrong.

“It will affect you,” one mage had warned, over the rims of his spectacles. “We can’t even be sure it will work when you’re both so –”

“I don’t care,” Cloud snapped, bloody and exhausted. The wound on his hand was throbbing. “Do whatever you can.”

“It’s going to scramble you brain,” another mage told him bluntly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if your whole personality changed.”

“Your memories too,” the first chimed in, with a worried, if professional, headshake. “There’s not enough room in your head for all of you and all of him at the same time.”

That gave Cloud pause. “What will I forget?” he asked.

A nervous glance between the pair of them. “Hypothetically?” the first said. “Everything.”

“Will I recover?”

Two helpless shrugs. “…We don’t know.”

Worrying. Cloud looked past them, at the drying pool of blood spreading over the floor. At Zack, lying still and cold as death on the stone bier they’d excavated from the rubble.

His jaw clenched.

As long as they were alive, there was hope. Zack had always said so and Cloud had always believed in Zack. He clung tightly to that thought as they laid him down on the bier next to Zack, trying to ignore the deathly pallor to his brother’s face, the wet, rasping whistle as Zack tried to breathe through blood-filled lungs. This was the only way. He would fix things, Cloud swore, as mage-light flared around him and his consciousness slipped, Zack’s face the last thing he saw. Even if he forgot everything, he’d remember eventually. He was sure of it.

He just never suspected it would take him five years to do so.

**

Rain hissed across the plains, sheeting down in torrents that blocked out the sky and turned the path to slick, clinging mud underfoot. Cloud marched through the storm in dark, stoic silence, eyes roving ceaselessly over low hillocks and sparse-limbed trees. The gleam of torchlight was a faint, indistinct smear in the distance, more like fox-fire than flame. Cloud’s sword harness clinked in time with his footfalls, the rain-slicked metal painfully chill even through the thick weave of his cloak. Cloud ignored the discomfort, gloved hands loose and ready at his sides.

There were eyes in the dark, far enough off that they could almost be his imagination, but Cloud had spent too many years living by his own instincts to start doubting them now. Those eyes didn’t see him, not yet, but the malice tingling at the base of his skull gave him no doubt that it was him they were looking for. Closer now than they’d been in the past, true, but Cloud wasn’t about to hang back and let them catch up to him now. Not for anything.

Ahead of him the vague shadows of the village began to slink out of the gloom, firming into roofs and chimneys and fences that wavered indistinctly in the pounding rain. Beyond them would be the bulk of the mountains, Cloud knew, the natural boundary between Cetra and Wutai, all but invisible in the rain. Cloud didn’t care. It was this tiny village he’d come to find, not the border crossing three days further on. If this lead didn’t pan out he’d likely head back the way he’d come, following the main trade route towards the coast, then bartering for passage on a ship bound for Shinra. It had been some months since he’d last been to Midgar and he liked to check in every now and then, with Tseng and Aeris. Maybe one of them would help him find a new place to look.

Water dripped off the hood of his cloak, falling in his face and soaking the collar of his shirt. Cloud brushed at it absently, listening to the steady hiss of the rain all around him and feeling like the only person in the world.

Not that the rest of the world mattered much. Without Zack, he was always alone.

**

People scattered as Cloud strode through the mage-lit halls of the Shinra keep, murder in his eyes and a scowl on his face that would have sent most members of the First Knights scrambling for cover. He brushed wordlessly past the liveried retainers stationed along the walls, ignoring their weak-hearted protests without slowing. Every few hallways someone would make as if to stop him, some soldier’s feebly raised pike shaking along with his hands, though their fellow retainers were always quick to prevent that kind of heroic idiocy before someone got killed. He wasn’t known as The Strife for nothing, after all.

Cloud plowed on relentlessly, a grim smile curling his lip as he traced a half-remembered path through the twisting maze of the keep without even a token resistance to his intrusion. Perhaps there was something to be said for having a reputation.

The door to Rufus’ outer audience chamber was barred by the time he reached it, a thick bar of solid iron and a trio of decidedly nervous guards blocking the way. Cloud eyed them darkly, expression deliberately menacing as he shifted his stance wide and reached up over his shoulder for the hilt of his sword, his movements slow and threatening.

Three pairs of eyes widened, the rasp of metal against metal scraping through the air as they quivered in their armour. A sandy-haired youth of perhaps seventeen was the first to break – his pike hit the floor with a clatter and he went tearing off down the hall away from him, terror scrawled heavily across his face.

Cloud watched him go for a silent moment, then raised a curious eyebrow at the other two.

Ten seconds later he was alone in the hallway, hoisting the heavy bar free from its supports with the same strength he used to wield his sword. He let the thing fall to the ground with a ringing crash, stepping carelessly over it as he yanked the door nearly off its hinges and strode inside.

A petty lordling idling within the outer room squeaked and whirled as Cloud entered, pallid face contrasting poorly with his florid robe.

“Y-you there!” the man declared, glaring while his knees quivered. He held his ground as Cloud strode closer, though it was a near thing. “What do you think you’re doing? You haven’t got the authority to be h-ack!”

Cloud hit him in the nose and kept walking, ignoring the man’s shriek as he hit the floor with a meaty splat.

“You…you fiend!” the lordling squawked, voice thick with blood and outrage. He stumbled to his feet, yelling insults after him as Cloud’s hands pressed flat against the door to Rufus’ private study. “I’ll see you hanged for this!”

A single push and the doors slammed open, striking the walls on each side with a with enough force that Cloud heard the crunch as the handles buried themselves into the stone. He didn’t bother trying to pull them free, all of his attention on the pale man sat unconcernedly behind the large slate desk against the far wall.

“Where is he?” Cloud demanded, patience fraying all at once. He strode angrily across the floor. “Rufus!”

Lord Rufus of Shinra didn’t bother looking up from the scroll he was reading. “Do shut the door after you,” he ordered idly, waving a dismissive hand. “The draft is unpleasant.”

Cloud slammed his hands down on the desk hard enough to make Rufus’ quill rattle in the inkwell. "Answer me!”

“Do you mind?” Rufus demanded with a touch of asperity, eyes flicking towards the parchments crinkling beneath Cloud’s fingers. “Those are important.”

“I know you have him,” Cloud insisted, leaning in close. “Give. Him. Back.”

“I suppose this means you have your own name back,” Rufus remarked casually. He marked his place on the scroll and sat back, fingers steepling before him. “A shame. You made a good Strife.”

Cloud growled loud in throat. “Rufus…”

“I must admit I’d rather hoped it would have improved your temper somewhat to be yourself again.” A sly eyebrow quirked. “Assuming, of course, that you do remember everything?”

“Rufus.” Cloud’s voice was like ice cracking underfoot. “What have you done with him?”

Rufus smiled thinly.

"Ah," he murmured. "Not quite I’d say. How difficult it must be for you – not even able to remember that you're the one who handed him over to us in the first place."

Cloud’s hand fisted in Rufus’ robe and yanked, the inkwell shattering across the floor as the table shook and he hauled Rufus bodily out of his chair. Cloud bared his teeth in the face of Rufus’ almost bored smile. “Don’t try my patience Rufus,” he warned. “You’ll find I don’t have much to spare for you right now.”

Boots clattered on the stones behind him and Cloud half-turned to face the threat, Rufus’ heels skittering across the table with a dragging squeak.

“Better give up now Strife,” a voice ordered, warning inherent in its low tone. “Before we have to hurt you.”

Cloud sneered, reaching automatically for his sword. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Stand down!” Rufus ordered his men, gesturing sharply over Cloud’s shoulder. “It’s all under control.”

“Don’t look like it to me, yo,” a second voice muttered, but neither man made any move to attack.

Rufus turned his attention back to Cloud.

“Your brother’s safe,” he said, still calm even while dangling a good foot off the floor. “Prove you can act like a civil human being for once and I’ll bring you to him, alright Strife?”

“I’m not your Strife anymore,” Cloud snarled, through gritted teeth, though he could feel his anger draining away despite himself. He lowered Rufus carefully back to the floor, doing his best to look intimidating. “Take me to him. Now.”

Rufus casually straightened his robe. “All this and you still don’t see the merit in asking? No wonder your brother always did the most of the talking. Reno, Rude,” he said, looking towards the two by the door and paying no attention to the angry stiffening of Cloud’s spine. “Cloud and I are going to visit his brother. You two will provide an escort.”

The slighter of the two, Reno, shrugged carelessly. “Whatever you say, lordship,” he said, attention still on Cloud.

“Of course.” Rufus’ eyes cut Cloud’s way. “Well?

Cloud glared at him. “I don’t trust you,” he accused. “Why are you giving in so easily?”

Rufus’ expression went haughtily amused. “Who said I was giving in?”

White cloth rippled as Rufus swept past him towards the door, his Turks falling into step behind. The smirk he threw over his shoulder was sharp as knives. “Just don’t be too surprised if you find you don’t want him back quite as soon as you expected.”

**

“Here you are,” the innkeeper declared, thumping down a full flagon and an overloaded plate on the scarred tabletop. “Hot from the kitchen.”

“My thanks,” Cloud answered with a short nod, shrugging back his dripping cloak as he reached for the tankard.

The innkeeper idled nearby, a dirty rag fished out of one pocket to scrub nonchalantly at the clean surface of the next table over.

“Don’t get many strangers round here in the rainy season,” he observed, nothing but small-town curiosity in the friendly smile he flicked at Cloud over one shoulder. “You on your way to the border crossing at Tilfaner, son?”

Cloud swallowed and forced himself to offer a small smile in return. “No,” he denied. “I’m looking for someone.”

Dark eyes traveled frankly over the muscles in Cloud’s bare arms, the hilt of the massive sword leaning against the back of his chair. “Should this someone be worried about you finding them?” the innkeeper asked neutrally.

Reminding himself that some people really didn’t mean anything other than what they said – especially in small towns – Cloud managed a mostly harmless shake of his head. “Just have a few questions I’m hoping he’ll be able to answer,” he answered honestly. He leaned back in his chair, eyes intent on the innkeeper’s face. “He’s an aeronaut – used to be known as The Highwind.”

“Highwind?” the innkeeper repeated, an uncertain expression on his face. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard tell of anyone with that – ”

“Well if that don’t beat all,” a loud, whiskey-rough voice interrupted, and Cloud twisted round to see a weather-beaten face glaring at him over the top of a tankard, deeply shadowed eyes eagle-sharp as they lingered on the insignia stitched into the dark fabric over Cloud’s heart. “Never figured Lord Shinra would send one of his lapdogs all the way out here just to deal with a runaway aeronaut.”

“Cid?” The innkeeper blinked, shocked. “You know this boy?”

The man named Cid snorted dismissively. “I know whose colours he’s wearing. Who he is doesn’t much matter.”

“You’re The Highwind?” Cloud asked, keeping his seat by sheer force of will.

Blue eyes shifted up to Cloud’s face, derision plain in their even regard. “Not anymore. You can tell your lord to look elsewhere for his dupes in the future.”

“I’m not here because of Rufus.” Cloud turned in his chair to face Cid, ignoring the innkeeper’s pole-axed expression completely. “I need your help.”

“Tough luck kid. I make it my business not to get involved in other people’s business.” Cid slammed his empty glass down hard, glaring at him. “Especially when they’re fool enough to let some petty lord ruin their lives for them.”

Cid stood with a decidedly final snort, snagging a worn cloak off the back of his chair and stomping off towards the door.

“Wait!” Cloud’s chair clattered to the floor as he surged to his feet, stumbling after him, his arm looping automatically through his sword harness. “Please, Highwind… Cid, hear me out…!”

“Nope,” Cid shot back without turning. “Whatever Shinra wants, he can ask someone else.”

“This isn’t about Shinra!” Shifting his sword hurriedly onto his back, Cloud tugged at the smooth leather of his right glove with his teeth. “Juft…mph…stopft, dammit!”

Cid’s hand closed on the door handle and Cloud moved, surging across the floor with a burst of speed that sent chairs bouncing out of his way and probably left indents in the floorboards. His left hand smacked hard against the door besides Cid’s head, the harness of his sword ringing with the impact.

Cid froze, a fighter’s alertness thrumming through ever line of his rigid stance, and Cloud drew his hand back shakily. “Sorry,” he muttered, as Cid scowled furiously at him from scant inches away. His brought his other hand up, palm forward. “Just… please.”

There was a breathless silence in the shocked common room and Cloud watched emotions he couldn’t even name flicker through Cid’s eyes as he stared at the bond mark in Cloud’s hand; the jagged scar that marred it.

“Kronin’s balls,” Cid declared succinctly. His mouth twisted ruefully as he shifted his attention to Cloud’s face. “You’d better come talk to Vin.”

**

It was the early spring of Cloud’s sixteenth year when he and Zack left the caravan for good, a few meager possessions bundled in Zack’s pack and the coppers they’d saved for the trip jingling in Cloud’s pocket.

They’d been in Cetra at the time, not far from the southern coast, and they’d wandered through the countryside without any real sense of direction, reveling in the simple joy of being completely at their own command. The roads in Cetra were wide and relatively safe in those days, leaving them without any real need to settle down in any of the towns or small hamlets they passed through. They’d been raised as Gyptans, after all, and an open road was far more appealing to them than any stationary four-walled house could ever be.

Zack and Cloud spent the better part of the spring and early summer drifting aimlessly from one town to the next, setting off for new destinations every day and sleeping side by side under the scrawling stars every night. They hunted and did odd jobs to keep from going hungry – Cetra’s harvest was good that year and most folks were more than willing to share the fruits of their labour for a few hours of hard work or several of Zack’s stories told over dinner.

The summer solstice found them in Lilia – Cetra’s largest freewater port – booking passage to Shinra on a cargo ship that needed a few extra hands. Going to Shinra had been Zack’s idea, once they’d both realized that the summer was winding down and they’d need to see about finding work and proper lodgings before the chill of winter arrived.

“We’ll go to Midgar,” Zack declared brightly, his dreams as big as the sky peering down at them. “I hear the Merce guild is always looking for new members to help with the jobs the lord’s army can’t deal with.” He propped himself up on one elbow, grinning down at Cloud. “We’ll have a house in the city but we’ll be able to travel all over the place. We’ll spend all our time finding strange things and taking on all sorts of neat jobs.”

“So we’re basically going to be vagabonds?” Cloud asked back, the half smile quirking his lips taking away even the mild sting of the words.

Zack laughed. “Yeah, but this way we’ll get paid to loiter around. We could always join the First Knights instead, I guess,” he reflected. “But I’m not really sure it’s the best place for us.” His rueful smile flashed in the dark as he reached out to tug Cloud closer. “Long periods of inactivity punctuated by panic-filled crises doesn’t sound like much fun to me. Especially if we have to live in Midgar all year long.”

“Probably not,” Cloud agreed, ducking under Zack’s arm and letting himself be reeled for a kiss.

And that, as far as either of them were concerned, was that. Their ship left on the first tide the next morning and they leaned over the back railing as it left the harbour, watching Cetra slip away into the distance behind them. It never occurred to either of them to miss it.

They spent two weeks at sea, learning how to sail and read the stars, how to scrub decks and gamble, finding their own place amid the well-ordered chaos the whole ship ran under. Cloud discovered that the rolling of the waves did not agree overmuch with his stomach and spent much of his off-duty time leaning green-faced over the side of the ship, trying without much success to tell a hovering Zack not to worry so much.

The port at Junon was a welcome sight for both of them by the time it finally crested over the horizon, Cloud for the chance to stand upright without the world reeling underneath him and Zack for the chance to drag Cloud off by the scruff of the neck and get some real food into the both of them. They bid a quick goodbye to the crew, turned down an offer to join them for the return trip, and disappeared into the bustling swirl of Shinra’s rowdiest city, ready for a new adventure.

They spent a fortnight in Junon, doing odds jobs and learning more about how to get into the Merces’ Guild. It was Cloud who found the metalsmith’s – a solid brick building tucked into a dingy side street off the main drag – and he all but hauled Zack inside to take a look, eyes bright as he lingered reverently over daggers and swords and knives.

The metalsmith had looked askance at the pair of them for coming in without parents or patrons, but neither Cloud nor Zack had any interest in causing the trouble shopkeepers expected from boys their age. The man’s eyebrows climbed right up to his hairline when Cloud finally settled on a weapon – a sword, near as tall as he was and heavy enough for a grown man to have trouble lifting – but Zack had just grinned and scruffed a fond hand through Cloud’s hair as Cloud asked the smith how much he was asking for it, and how long would it take to make another?

It took most of their savings to afford both swords, but neither Zack nor Cloud regretted it a moment; when they set out for Midgar at last it was with a spring in their steps and new weapons on their backs, the twin blades identical down to the last rivet and crease.

“We’ll need them as Merces,” Cloud reckoned innocently, new sword harness creaking as he walked. “And they certainly look impressive.”

“Yeah,” Zack grinned. “Now let’s just hope we look as impressive fighting with them as we do wearing them. I think we’re going to need a lot of practice between here and Midgar.”

“That’s alright,” Cloud grinned back. “We can do anything together, remember?”

A fond smile. “Absolutely.”

And so passed their first summer away from the caravan.

**

The house Cid led him to was a good fifteen minutes walk from the bar, and far enough beyond the border of the city proper that Cloud started flicking glances into the pooling shadows, wary of a trap. The rain hissed down all around them, a perfect cover for any assailants that might be lying in wait in the dark. He would know – he’d been a shadow in the dark himself more times than he cared to count.

Cloud’s gloved fingers twitched, restless.

Cid glanced over at him, a stray flicker of torchlight illuminating the white flash of the man’s teeth as he grinned.

“No need to get your panties in a bunch there, Shinra boy,” Cid told him with a chuckle. “You’re about the scariest thing to come through here in the last six months and the local boys aren’t exactly the type to go looking for your brand of trouble.”

“Hnn.” Cloud fisted his hands to stop the twitching, though he didn’t stop eyeing the darkness as though it might bite. There was no such thing as being too careful. Especially for him.

There was a single candle shining in the front window of the house that Cid finally stopped in front of.

Cid rolled his eyes. “I told that idiot not to wait up. Come on,” he ordered, stumping up to the door like the nine guardians of Terrok were waiting for him on the other side and he had a thing or three to say to them. “Let’s get this over with.”

Cloud wasn’t quite sure what to expect as he followed Cid into the house, ducking slightly to let the hilt of his sword clear the doorway. The abandoned tools and scraps of metal stacked unevenly in corners weren’t particularly surprising when Cid had been an aeronaut, nor was the seven foot spear leaning jauntily against the wall beside the front door. A pair of thigh-high boots far too thin for Cid sat neatly to one side of the hall, though Cloud could see no other sign of the house’s second occupant. A part of him wondered if that was really as odd as he thought it was.

Cid shucked off his dripping cloak and tossed it towards an empty peg on the wall. “Vin?” he called, wandering down the hall and leaving muddy prints on the floor. “What in the seven hells are you still doin’ up?”

“Reading,” a voice responded, low and quietly amused, and Cid leaned into one of the doorways on the left with an expression somewhere between irritated and fond.

“Crazy nocturnal bastard,” the man groused, leaning against the doorjamb and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m gonna drag you down there with me one of these days – see if I don’t.”

The person in the room made a small, noncommittal noise and Cloud pulled off his rain-slicked cloak, hanging it on the peg next to Cid’s. Then he made his way cautiously forward, wincing at the squeak of wood under his wet boots.

“Absolutely hopeless,” Cid was saying, with a roll of his eyes. “Well I’ve got a puzzle for you tonight, anyway.” He jerked a finger over one shoulder as Cloud came closer. “Found ‘im at the bar.”

“And since when have you started letting people follow you– oh.” The man sitting at the low table stared in surprise as Cloud appeared behind Cid. “Oh, I see.”

Cloud lingered awkwardly in the door for a long moment, self-conscious in a way he hadn’t since before Zack had gone. The dark haired man held his gaze unblinkingly, making Cloud feel oddly like he was being judged from the inside out. His eyes were red, Cloud noticed, sooty and dark, gleaming with an inner fire that was nothing like the mage-light in Cloud’s own.

“Goddamn,” Cid sighed without heat, and Cloud started as he realized that he’d been stood there for several minutes, staring blankly back into that steady red. “And here I thought Vin was bad enough on his own. You sit down,” he ordered Cloud. “And you,” he added, unfolding from his slouch and frowning at the man at the table. “Put that fucking book down and act like a normal human being for once.”

“Mm hmm. While you do what, exactly?”

“I am going to make so fucking tea.” Cid spared a glare for the pair of them. “And I expect to hear actual talking by the time I get back, got it?”

A dark eyebrow quirked. “Yes Cid,” the man said blandly.

Cid made a rude gesture and stalked off down the hallway, muttering to himself as he went.

“You may as well sit,” the man told Cloud calmly and Cloud turned to find himself being observed with a look that might have been amusement. “You can call me Vincent.”

Chaos something in his mind corrected, midnight red and glinting steel skittering rapidly behind his eyes, but Cloud ignored it. He knew better than most that the only names that really mattered were the ones you chose for yourself, so if it was Vincent the man wanted, then Vincent it would be.

“Cloud,” he introduced himself, taking the chair closest to the door. “Cid said you might be able to help me.”

Vincent nodded. “I can see why he’d bring you here. You have two souls.”

Cloud’s breath caught sharply.

Dark hair fell across a pale cheek as Vincent’s head cocked curiously. “So you’re aware of it,” he murmured, as casual as if he were talking about the storm outside. “Or one of you is, at least.”

Cloud’s throat felt tight. “How do you… what can you see?” he corrected himself, watching that ember-bright flicker in Vincent’s dark eyes.

Vincent’s lips quirked into what could almost have passed for a smile. “Far more than I want to, most days. Whose soul is it that you carry?”

“It’s Zack’s,” Cloud answered, then cursed himself as a fool at the blank look on Vincent’s face. “My blood brother,” he clarified, tugging off his glove to show Vincent the bond mark there.

“I see.” Vincent eyed him thoughtfully. “And why are you risking both of your souls by carrying his within you?”

Cloud stiffened. “I had no choice,” he said, defensive and cold. “It was the only way to save him.”

Vincent’s eyes bored into his. “And yet you have come here looking for help.”

“You have all the subtlety of a fist to face sometimes Vin,” Cid voice spoke up from the doorway, and Cloud twisted to see the aeronaut coming into the room with three steaming mugs cradled in his wide hands. “Ignore this idiot,” Cid added to Cloud. “He doesn’t get out much.”

A mug introduced itself into the space by Cloud’s hand and Cid plunked himself down in the chair on Cloud’s right. “Now why don’t you start from the beginning?” he suggested, sliding Vincent’s mug over to him with his free hand. “We’ll stop you if you lose us.”

“Right.” Cloud pulled off his other glove almost absently, wrapping his hands around the earthenware mug and feeling the heat tingle against his palms. “Zack is my blood brother,” he said again, for Cid’s benefit this time. He stared down at the ugly scar on his palm, trying to remember what his hand looked like without it. “I’m carrying his soul for him until I can find someone to help us.”

Cid nodded. “I figured it had to be something like that.” He uncurled a finger towards Cloud’s open hand. “Don’t often see one of those marks without a matching one close by. Kinda surprised you’re not dead, actually,” he admitted candidly. “Seein’ as I’ve never met a blood pair who could stand to be apart for more than a couple of hours at a time without getting sick.”

“It’s…an unusual circumstance,” Cloud admitted, ignoring the knife-sharp twist of loneliness in his gut at the reminder. He paused for a moment, struggling to draw together the tattered threads of his memory. “We’re – we used to be Merces for Shinra,” he explained.

“Used to?” Cid asked and Cloud’s brow furrowed as he thought.

“There was a mission,” he said slowly. “Somewhere in Jenova. We accepted it because there was-” silver hair and a quiet almost-smile “-someone who needed our help.” His throat felt tight. “But it was a trap.”

It was Vincent who spoke next, quiet even in the still room. “Where in Jenova were you?”

“Erm…not near the capital?” Cloud guessed. “Zack was complaining about the walk so it can’t have been that easy to get to.”

Cid and Vincent traded a look.

“You don’t know?” Cid asked finally, something cautious in his tone.

Cloud shrugged helplessly. “Not really? I know there was some kind of disaster-” following Zack through the flames up to the “-in the city while we were there and they waited for us to get close and then…” His voice trailed off, frustration balling tight in his chest. Cid and Vincent were silent, waiting.

Cloud took a deep breath. “Zack got cursed,” he said in a rush, knowing that part was true even if nothing else made sense. “So they transferred his soul into me so that the curse couldn’t, couldn’t… do whatever it was supposed to do.” He met their eyes as steadily as he could manage. “And now I’m looking for a way to break the curse.”

“It’s true that a curse can’t take shape without access to both body and soul,” Vincent agreed slowly. “But the body isn’t meant to house two souls-” a twinge of something strange in Vincent’s eyes, there and gone again before Cloud could quantify it, “-and it can hurt the soul you already have to force that kind of overcrowding.”

“Tell me about it,” Cloud said wryly, then hid a start when he realized what he’d just said. He carried on hurriedly. “But uh, they only tried in the first place because of our blood bond – we’re already so closely joined that it isn’t as dangerous as it could be to house our souls together.” He shrugged. “And if I can break the curse, things should improve – or at least not get any worse than they already are.”

“So you’ve been, what?” Cid took a noisy slurp of tea. The expression in his eyes was far sharper than his casual tone of voice suggested. “Trolling around looking for someone to break a curse you don’t remember before it does something undetermined to this Zack who’s living as a vegetable somewhere? You’ve got your work cut out for you. Whaddaya think Vin?” he added, before Cloud’s face could decide whether to flush or blanch at the man’s bluntness. “Can you help?”

“…No,” Vincent admitted slowly. “I can’t.”

Cloud flinched despite himself. “I see,” he said, forcing his tone to remain level. He started to stand. “I’ll leave you alone then.”

“I know someone else who might be able to, though,” Vincent remarked, and Cloud’s head shot up so fast that the hilt of his sword jabbed him in the back of his skull.

“Really?” he demanded, too open, too vulnerable for him to disguise.

“He helped me once,” Vincent continued, politely indifferent to Cloud’s sudden change in demeanor. “When I was battling my own monsters. If he can’t do anything for you, I don’t know anyone else who could.”

“Thank you,” Cloud said, fiercely sincere. “How do I find him?”

Vincent turned a thoughtful look towards Cid, who scowled roundly at him.

“Figured you were going to say that,” the aeronaut groused. He flicked a look at Cloud. “You’re not an earth affinite are you?” he demanded abruptly.

Cloud blinked. “Air and iron,” he answered honestly. “Why?”

Cid’s grin sharpened. “Only one way to get where we’re going, and that’s by aeroship – earth affinites don’t tend to fly well is all.”

Cloud swallowed hard, wondering if it was too late to start walking instead.

**

Underground. Zack was being kept underground.

Cloud could feel sweat beading on his brow by the time they approached the third turn of the staircase, the sensation of earth crowding in on all sides getting steadily more unpleasant the further down they went. It made sense – there was no place safer to keep an earth affinite like Zack – but Cloud wasn’t nearly so well suited to the depths; they drained his strength and made him wish for fresh air and the sight of the endless sky overhead.

He caught the telltale flicker of amusement in Rufus’ eyes as they rounded the spiral again and had to grit his teeth at the double sensation of nausea and ire. Just because Rufus was aware of his discomfort didn’t mean he intended to let the man take any more enjoyment out of it than absolutely necessary.

Rude was at his back, heavy footsteps echoing in the cramped stairwell, and Cloud didn’t have to look to know the big man was as energized by the depths as Cloud was stifled by them. Reno, up in front and chattering just to irritate, wasn’t affected either way; his affinity was fire and water – which certainly explained his mercurial nature – so there wasn’t much that could bother him. Cloud was mostly just pleased to see that Elena hadn’t come with them; as a water air affinite she’d have been suffering even more than he was.

The stairway kept curving, down and down into the earth and Cloud lost track of how many turns of the tower they walked before the discordant clatter of steps turned into the strike of shoes against flat stone, the narrow stairwell widening into a large subterranean room that echoed ponderously in the dark.

Rude was a steady presence at his side as Cloud took a few deep, fortifying breaths to centre himself and Cloud appreciated the gesture even as he wondered whether the big man expected trouble out of him after what had happened in Rufus’ study.

“Enjoy the trip?” Rufus asked lightly.

Cloud gave him a narrow look.

“Wonderful,” Rufus smiled, not fazed in the slightest. “Shall we continue?” He swept across the floor towards a large iron door set in the far wall. He tilted his head at Reno. “Open it.”

Reno saluted lazily. “Sure thing, lordship.”

The door rippled as Reno approached, swirls of shifting blue pulsing through the metal in response to his presence. Water runes, Cloud realized, and wondered why Rufus hadn’t opened the door himself in that case. The door swung open at the press of Reno’s hands, revealing a long, dark corridor flanked with torches. They flared to life as Cloud watched, mage-fire racing ahead of them through the dark and sending the metal panels spaced along the walls to gleaming in the dim.

Rufus turned to look at Cloud. “Well? Go on.”

Cloud started forward at once, not caring how overeager it made him seem. He darted rapidly down the corridor, the ache of all that earth receding slightly thanks to the heavy slabs of iron all around him. Whoever had commissioned this space had certainly known what they were doing – between the depth and the metal paneling Zack could probably have done cartwheels on the ceiling in this place if he’d been awake.

There was a glass wall in front of him. Resisting the impulse to tear straight through it, Cloud slowed his pace, creeping almost hesitantly up to peer through.

A iron bier stood on the other side. There was a body lying across it.

The others walked up behind him but Cloud barely noticed, something like panic building at the back of his throat.

This couldn’t be Zack. He’d never seen Zack so still in his entire life.

“We were able to mend his body, as you can see,” Rufus spoke up when Cloud was silent too long. He shrugged, sounding remarkably offhand. “Unfortunately, without a soul the body’s not much more than an empty shell.”

It was the same face, handsome and open, though without the ever-present grin that had always made it shine. Cloud’s eyes traced the familiar contours of shoulders and arms, lingered on the wide, competent hands clasped peacefully across an unmarked chest. Zack’s hair was shaggy and overlong, dangling over the sides of the bier, stark against the unnatural pallor of his skin. Zack’s eyes were closed, like sleep, and Cloud found himself wishing they would open, that Zack would sit up and grin at him, like always. Seeing Zack like this, quiet and empty and broken, was painfully wrong.

His face hurt. Cloud realized that he had it pressed to the glass, his cheeks hot against the cool surface. The room was very quiet. Cloud blinked and backed rapidly away, retreating several steps until he could no longer make out Zack’s strangely lax expression for the glare of light on the glass. He was breathing hard.

He could feel Rufus’ eyes on him.

“We’ll move him if you want to,” the man offered. “Though I doubt I have to tell you that he’s better off here for now.”

“How…” It came out rough, his throat unnaturally tight. Cloud coughed and tried again. “How do I wake him up?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Rufus came up next to him, tall boots clicking on the stone floor. He flicked a careless glance towards Cloud’s right hand. “We just reverse the process that pushed his soul into your body and put it back where it belongs. Nice and tidy.” He paused just long enough to let that sink in, then added, “Of course, once his soul returns the curse will be free to finish what it started.”

Cloud’s jaw clenched. “So what do I do?”

“Break the curse first, yo.” That was Reno, his ever-present smirk hovering somewhere between amused and sympathetic. Cloud gave him a look and he shrugged bonelessly. “Course, if it was that easy, we woulda done it years ago.”

“Tseng has a few leads,” Rude offered, deep voice resonating in the dark. “Nothing conclusive though – curse breakers are notoriously hard people to track down.”

“It’s better than nothing.” Cloud shifted his attention over to Rufus, who was watching him with a mild half-smile. “I can’t imagine that you’re just going to let me go,” he said. It wasn’t much of a question.

A decidedly wolfish smirk answered him. “Oh, so you’re beginning to play by the rules, are you? How refreshing.”

“What do you want?” Cloud bit out, flint sharp and ruthlessly controlled.

“Your negotiating skills could use work though,” Rufus remarked absently. “I’ll let you go,” he said, bluntly. “Let you give up being Strife and go live your life however you see fit. You can go anywhere you like, work for whomever you like. Dedicate yourself to finding a way to break the curse, if that’s what you want. I’ll keep your precious brother here, safe within these wards and protected by the same magics that defend my keep.” A flicking glance over his shoulder through the glass. “He’ll stay just the way you see him now – trapped in soulless suspension so that the curse can’t do him any further damage. And, of course, if you manage to break the curse, my people will restore his soul.”

Cloud eyed him evenly. “And what do you expect me to give you in return?”

“I want your oath,” Rufus said, his pale eyes glittering with an implacable kind of urgency. “Made in blood and bound with your word that you and your brother will remain loyal to Shinra for the rest of your days. You’ll be mine to command and direct against any enemy that doesn’t threaten the bond you share with each other.”

Cloud stared at him, shocked.

Reno whistled lowly. “Damn, lordship. That’s one hell of an oath.”

Rude cuffed his partner lightly. “Shut up, Reno.”

Rufus ignored the pair of them, fair hair gleaming in the dim. “Well, Strife?”

“I can’t swear for both of us,” Cloud stalled, mind reeling at the enormity of what Rufus was demanding. “No one can swear the life of another – not even the blood bonded. And Zack won’t need to swear to you – the curse will already be gone by the time he’s able to.”

“Ah,” Rufus smirked, smug satisfaction glittering sharply in his smile. “But what need will have I of his cooperation once I have yours? Your oath will be more than sufficient to bind the both of you to my clan for as long as I have need of you.”

Cloud frowned, grudgingly impressed by how well Rufus had thought this through.

A slender eyebrow arched with a knowing quirk. “Do you concede to my terms?” Rufus asked.

In the end, there wasn’t really any choice to make.

“I do,” Cloud agreed, and if Rufus’ expression was irritatingly smug, at least it was no worse than usual.

Rufus nodded shortly. “Good. I’ll inform Tseng of your change in status and have him see to it that your current target gets reassigned. You’re welcome to leave or stay at your discretion once you’ve sworn the oath, though you might want to start your search for a curse-breaker sooner rather than later.” A sharp-edged smile. “We wouldn’t want the condition of your soul to deteriorate any further in the meantime, now would we?”

He turned back towards the door, his Turks falling in behind him without a word. Their footfalls echoed dully across the floor, an odd sort of disjointed harmony between them. Cloud hung back for a moment longer, lifting one hand to the glass in a silent farewell while resisting the urge to look through it again. That wasn’t how he wanted to remember Zack.

“I’ll fix things,” he told him, hardly more than a whisper in the quiet. “I promise.”

The door groaned unsubtly and Cloud let his hand fall, turning with all the dignity he could muster to follow after his impatient lord.

Rufus had paused just beyond the door, watching with a faint frown as Cloud drew close. “You may come visit if you like,” he offered unexpectedly. “Any of my Turks can let you into the tower.”

“Why…” Cloud started, then shook his head. “Thank you,” he said instead. “We’re both deeply indebted to you.”

“I know,” Rufus agreed, without a trace of malice. He turned back to the stairs then, every inch the proud lord as he added, “Now, if you’re quite done, I have better things to do with my time today.” His tone went slyly amused. “And I have no doubt that you’ll be well served to get back to the surface soon. Being this far underground can’t be good for you.”

There wasn’t much Cloud could say to that, so he simply shrugged and followed as they started back up the stairs again.

Going up was marginally better than going down had been, though they were deep enough that it was long time before Cloud could feel the pressure of all that earth starting to recede. His sword felt heavy on his back, though whether that was from being so long underground or a reaction to leaving Zack alone down there in the dark, Cloud wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

It was a quiet climb back up to the surface, even Reno mostly silent for once, and Cloud allowed himself a small sigh of relief when the stairs finally leveled off into the flat landing they’d started from, deep in the heart of the Shinra keep.

Rufus spared him a quick glance. “See to it that Tseng fills you in on the information we’ve been able to gather,” he commanded. His gaze went to his Turks. “Rude. Reno.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Reno told him, with characteristic disregard for anything even remotely resembling propriety. “Right behind you, lordship.” He paused on his way to the door, green eyes skittered meaningfully from Rude to Cloud and back again. Rude nodded gravely in response and Reno grinned, his usual insolent self as he slouched out the door with a backhanded wave and a cheery ‘don’t get killed, yo’ thrown over one shoulder.

Rude didn’t sigh, more than used to his incorrigible partner. He turned to Cloud.

“You ought to go see Oracle before you leave,” Rude said, a suggestion in only the loosest possible sense of the word. “There are things you ought to know before you leave.”

Cloud blinked but Rude was already gone, the door falling shut behind him with a soft, muffled thump.

“Great,” Cloud sighed to himself. A visit to The Oracle. As if this day hadn’t been bad enough already.

Go to next part

Harry Potter and the Dark Kingdom (Harry Potter, Snape/Harry, AU)

2008-08-05T05:40:20Z

Title: Harry Potter and the Dark Kingdom
Author: Gryvon
Fandom/Pairing: Harry Potter, Snape/Harry (coming soon)
Rating: PG for now
Author's Notes: I decided to go with high fantasy for my AU. Unfortunately the story didn't want to die after 10k so I'll be cranking out the rest of it over the wonderful Otakon weekend.

Chapter 1: A Fire in the Forest
Chapter 2: The Man on the Bridge
Chapter 3: The White Owl
Chapter 4: Hogwarts Students

Rest will be posted under this tag (and here, obviously).

Please cast your vote!

2008-08-01T11:29:24Z

[OTP Battle Poll #6/Survival of the Hottest Woman - Poll #1]

Ladies!

2008-07-27T23:22:20Z

It's the ladies' turn. Interested parties make your way over here and drop a comment with your top ten, five... whoever pings you.

THE TOP TEN throws confetti (10-1)

2008-07-27T17:09:37Z

10. Kurogane (Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle) - 160
Kurogane is a black and red clad ninja warrior under the service of Princess Tomoyo. And unbelievably SEXY! He's ruthless and abrasive and often irritated by others' actions, especially Fai, who keeps calling him cute pet names like Kuro-puu.

9. Kuchiki Byakuya (Bleach) - 161
They call him Captain Pretti-Hairs. And they're right.
Under that perfect face and icy demeanor there must SURELY be burning passion. Don'tcha just want to muss him up?

8. Howl Jenkins (Howl's Moving Castle) - 163
Petty, manipulative, fickle, immature, but when he focuses, it's magic – and he's utterly irresistible.

7. Genjo Sanzo (Saiyuki) - 165 [highest ranking Saiyuki character]
In a related matter, Sanzo wants you to shut up and stop staring at him already.

6. Kanda Yuu (D.Gray-man) - 171
Kanda feels participating in this poll is beneath his dignity. Fortunately, we're here to point out his long dark hair and awesome way with a sword.

5. Roy Mustang (Full Metal Alchemist) - 174
The reason thousands of fangirls learned to properly spell "Colonel."

4. L (Death Note) - 184
Who knew an oral fixation could be so hot? Oh wait, we all did.

3. Agatsuma Soubi (Loveless) - 188
He makes "hurt me" sound like foreplay. Those scars are disturbing, but weirdly hot.

2. Asami Ryuichi (viewfinder) - 197
Asami is a bastard. Utterly. He's sexy and knows it and is confident enough to make even Superman question his masculinity. He knows what he likes and goes for it, and it doesn't matter if other people disagree because he's badass enough to make them do what he wants.

AND FINALLY ... THE HOTTEST GUY OF THEM ALL

1. Conrad Weller (Kyo Kara Maou!) - 204

Wonderful swordsman, military man, mentor. Even his teeth are perfect! Just keep him away from other guys' fiances.

What's sexier than a man in uniform with a sword in his hand.. unless it's a man in uniform with a sword who's willing to sacrifice himself for his love?

And that does it, folks.

Please share your thoughts, your favorite pics, links to your favorite AMVs, fic recs... whatever you want. Let's make it a party to celebrate the hotness!

*bows* Thank you all for your participation!

Fandom Most Represented:
1. Bleach - With 4 characters in the top 40. (tied with)
1. Final Fantasy VII with 4 characters in the top 40.
2. Saiyuki with 3 out of the 4 main characters. *pets Goku*

Hot 40 (20 - 11)

2008-07-27T15:44:18Z

20. Cloud Strife (Final Fantasy VII) - 145
Short, beautiful, blond with a good little sense of humour when he opts to show it. He has serious personality issues. Far from the usual angst and repressed memories, Cloud outright stole someone else's memories until other people pointed out inaccuracies in what he was saying. The poor boy embodies conflict and self-hate and how could you not want to fix him up?

19. Cho Hakkai (Saiyuki) - 145
So very polite. Cheerful. Controlled. Until you snap off those limiters. Then – whuh.

Never has madness and mass murder been so hot.

18. Hitachiin Hikaru and Kaoru (Ouran High School Host Club) - 146
Double the pleasure, double the fun.

17. Lavi/Ravi (D.Gray-man) - 147
Visit your local library today, kids. You don't know what you're missing.

16. Gwendal von Voltaire (Kyo Kara Maoh!) - 147

Gwendal can say more with a single raised eyebrow than most of his cast can say in twenty minutes. Also, he knits and makes adorable plushies. The perfect man? Perhaps.

Let's see…handsome, long-hair, uniform, brilliant sword skills. It takes a lot to put a smile on his face…but anything cute will do it. Awww. He's actually a big softie. And entirely lickable.

15. Tezuka Kunimitsu (Prince of Tennis) - 152

Ten laps around the tennis court for all those dirty thoughts you just had.

14. Yuki Eiri (Gravitation) - 154
A killer's eyes, a novelist's instincts...wait, there's a difference? Lke Usami and Howl, he's brilliantly talented but lacking in social skills. Like Soubi, he's tortured (though not quite as literally). Added bonus - if you watch the anime, his seiyuu is the luscious-voiced Inoue Kazukiko. MMM....what a combo!

13. Sephiroth (Final Fantasy VII) - 155
Sephiroth is the embodiment of a proud, proud tradition; the bad guy whose pants you want to get into, badly. Whose LEATHER pants you want to get into. Seriously, between the pretty-boy face, the masses of perfect silver hair, that body, and the wandering around in light bondage gear, how could you not go for it?

12. Usami Akihiko (Junjou Romantica) - 156
Rich and spoiled, he's used to getting what he wants…which includes stuffed animals (and cute ukes). Once he fixates on you, you might as well just give in.

11. Sesshomaru (Inuyasha) - 159
Is it the furry thing, the attitude problem, the resurrection sword? Or is it the pretty face? Yeah, it's probably the pretty face.

[40-31][30 - 21]

Hot 40 (30 - 21)

2008-07-27T14:59:46Z

30. Sakurazuka Seishirou (X/1999) - 116
One-eyed sociopathic assassins have never been so fascinating.

29. Edward Elric (Full Metal Alchemist) - 118
Officer, I swear he said he was 18.

28. Fujimiya Ran [Aya] (Weiß Kreuz) - 125

Hn.

(Alternately, "Revenge is a dish best served pretty.")

27. Asato Tsuzuki (Yami no Matsuei) - 126
If they gave an award for Most Vulnerable Character Found in the Afterlife, he'd win hands down. What is it about these tortured guys?

Never has clinginess and sugar addiction been so adorable.

26. Abarai Renji (Bleach) - 128
Do you want to take off Renji's clothes to see where the tattoos begin and end, or do you just want to take off Renji's clothes? Either way, he's definitely wearing too much.

25. Sou Tamaki (Ouran High School Host Club) - 132
The most adorable drama queen ever to attend high school. Never has spazzy arm-flailing been so cute.

24. Doumeki Shizuka (xxxHolic) - 132
He doesn't say much. But he'll do anything, at any cost, to protect his man.

23. Yagami Raito/Light (Death Note) - 137
Oxford shirts really are sexy. So is power over life and death. The serial killer you can bring home to meet your parents.

22. Liu Fei Long (Viewfinder) - 141
Immaculately dressed head of the Chinese syndicate. He has a ~~boner~~ bone to pick with Asami Ryuichi since he blames him for his father's death. All I ask is that we get to watch the eventual resolution. We'll even ~~kidnap~~ bring Takaba along for the fun.

21. Vincent Valentine (Final Fantasy VII) - 142
He's tall, dark and handsome. If that weren't enough to sell half the universe already, he's kick-ass with a gun, his major source of angst is the great love of his life who he'd do anything for. His inner demons are REAL demons that come forth and kick yet more ass? Oh, and not to forget, he's also smart, has a dry sense of humour, and possesses a fabulous gothic sense of style. How could anyone resist?

[40- 31]

Hot 40 (40 - 31)

2008-07-27T13:20:46Z

I'd like to thank lady_ganesh, shayheyred, cleflink and emerald_embers for giving me desperately needed assistance with this list. You rock ... and roll and all that good stuff! And thank you so much to everyone who participated, commented, cheered on their favorite characters. It's been a blast and I hope we can do something like this again in the near future.

**DRUMROLL PLEASE**

40. Reno (Final Fantasy VII) - 106
He's a very very pretty mess, hair unkempt, shirt untucked and open-necked. Never have red mullets been so sexy!

39. Uchiha Itachi (Naruto) - 107
Slaughtering almost your entire family is hard work! Don't you want to help him relax?

38. Dante Sparda (Devil May Cry) - 109
Dante has no shirt. Dante needs no shirt. And we like it that way.

37. Ishida Uryuu (Bleach) - 110
Attitude? Check. And why does he dress in monk-like clothes (which are disturbingly sexy)? What that boy can do with a long pointy object! (His arrows, you pervert!)
Survey says: Quincy Archer is hot. And he can sew!

36. Kusama Nowaki (Junjou Egoist) - 112
His name "Nowaki" means "typhoon" in Japanese and boy is it ever fitting. Hiroki (and I) never stood a chance!

35. Kurosaki Ichigo (Bleach) - 113
Yeah, so he's supposed to be 15? Right. Have you seen that body? Have you caught the snarky attitude? Did ya note the spiky hair? Kurosaki Ichigo has sharp eyes, a sharp temper and a really, really big...sword.

34. Jin (Samurai Champloo) - 115
He's contained and quiet, ruled by rules…until HELLO! HERE COMES THAT SILVER SWORD and MYSTERIOUSLY GROWING HAIR HALFWAY DOWN HIS BACK and OMG THAT INCREDIBLY MUSCLED BODY. I'll be back in my bunk, thanks.

A ronin from a time and place that never quite happened and the world's worst crossdresser. Not that we mind.

33. Hatake Kakashi (Naruto) - 116
Kakashi taught Chuck Norris everything he knows. And he never even had to pull down his mask.

32. Haruka (Tactics) - 116
Never met a woman who didn't fall for him, even if he doesn't pay much attention. What is it about him? Oh yeah…maybe it's the "fallen angel" look of those black wings.

31. Sha Gojyo (Saiyuki) - 116
You want to take him home, make him a sandwich, maybe knit him a scarf...and then have wild, mad, passionate sex with him.

30 - 21