From here on out, expect the next few chapters to be laden with badness. 
Angst. Pain. Mourning. Loss. All the shit that makes life ... not so fun. 
Please enjoy! ;D Chapter 9 is in production already -- will go out to a 
beta sooner or later. Oh! And guess what? This fic has been nominated for 
the A~no FY Fanfiction awards! Does that now rock? Rocks for me! I've never 
been nominated for anything! ^_^;;

Anyway. Ficage now. Standard disclaimers apply.


Love Lies Bleeding

Memories are just where you laid them,
dragging waters 'til the depths give up their dead.
What did you expect to find?
Was it something you left behind?
Don't you remember everything I said when I said:

Don't fall away, and leave me to myself.
Don't fall away, and leave love bleeding in my hands,
In my hands again;
Leave love bleeding in my hands.
In my hands,
Love lies bleeding.

'Hemorrhage (Love Lies Bleeding)', Fuel


"So. You're leaving."

The pair stood before each other, amber eyes staring into a single burgundy 
orb in a maimed face, as the wolf tried to intimidate the fox into staying.

Tasuki bristled visibly as the stare-down continued.

"You really think you're gonna walk all the fuckin' way to Kutou?"

Chichiri was calm. "Yes, no da."

"You're not!" Tasuki protested.

"I am," the monk finally replied, adjusting the tilt of his straw kasa upon 
his head. "I really cannot dally any longer, no da. I am almost a month 
late for my visit, no da. Kouran and Shuusei-san are no doubt having 
kittens by now, no da. I really cannot keep them worrying about me forever, 
no da."

Despite the matter-of-fact way Chichiri made his statement, Tasuki seemed 
to want to punch holes in it. But the monk stood firm in the face of the 
bandit's ire.

"Fine!" Tasuki finally gave in with an explosive breath. "Fine! Go on, then."

The bandit moved around the monk as he stood there; Chichiri was waiting 
for him to move, and the path to doorway cleared. Tasuki simply waved one 
hand irritably as he went around the other man, as if urging the monk to 
his journey despite his vehement protests.

"Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out, Chichiri!" was Tasuki's 
final farewell.

Chichiri sighed. Nothing ever went as planned anymore.

Without a backward glance, the monk headed out the door. He knew Kouji was 
watching this scene somewhere in the shadows, but was certain that Tasuki 
would eventually get over his anger. He'd just have to realize that 
Chichiri had duties to other people, even if he did not approve of how 
Chichiri saw them through.

He refused to think too much about it, however, as sunshine and cool spring 
air greeted him. His lungs swelled as he took a deep breath, filling them 
with the clean, outdoor air. It was good to be out of the fortress, he 
thought, as he headed down the winding path.

He would walk tonight, he decided as he went around the bend. Walk until 
evening came, then camp out under the stars. In the morning, if he felt up 
to it, he would consider cutting his travel time with a spell to cross the 
remaining distance. It was, after all, quite a journey he was undertaking. 
Mt Leikauku rested between Konan and Sairou. The Shouryuu village, on the 
other hand, was on the otherside of the mountains that divided Konan and 
Kutou.

He mused further on his travels, as he walked, keeping other thoughts at 
bay: he did not want to think Tasuki's ire, Hikou's erratic behavior. He 
didn't want to think about Hikou at all, in fact.

A shudder ran down his back as the demon's cool touch was remembered, 
unbidden by his heart. The voice that accompanied the thought of the demon 
was far more real, however, than the ghostly hand he felt over his skin.

"You didn't wait for me."

Chichiri whirled, his cloak fluttering with the clumsy turn, to find the 
demon he was just trying not to think about standing on the path not far 
behind him.

Questions blurred through his mind. When had Hikou arrived? Why had he not 
sensed it? He swallowed them all, and instead replied to the demon's 

'greeting'.

"It has been two days. I couldn't wait any longer." A wry smile touched the 
monks lips. "And I know you can find me, no matter where I go. You found me 
easily enough the first time, didn't you?"

A smirk to mirror Chichiri's found its way to Hikou's lips, though it was 
somehow harsher than the monk's expression.

"It is good you understand that," Hikou said as he walked towards the monk. 
"But you asked what I wanted and you know it was to be with you. So...are 
we to travel, then?"

Chichiri only gave a moment's pause before nodding quietly. "Hai. We shall 
be heading to Kutou. I'm sure meeting Shuusei may be something of a shock 
to you, though. He could be your twin."

The demon shrugged noncommittally. He seemed to care not about the man that 
Chichiri described, and simply his place at the monk's side.

Chichiri looked Hikou over a moment, seeking something in his face, his 
eyes. Some clue of what he was feeling, how he felt about traveling with 
his one-time lover. There was nothing.

"Do you mind us walking cross-country?" Chichiri asked.

"No," Hikou answered succinctly.

A moment of silence lingered between them. Did he really want to walk all 
that way, alone, with the demon? He was distinctly uncomfortable with 
dealing with the demon's lusts, alone in the woods. Oh, Hikou had said he 
would respect his wishes, yes, but that didn't alleviate his discomfort all 
the same. The more he thought about it, the less he liked it, and the less 
comfortable he was walking before the demon.

"Would you rather us go the quick way?" Chichiri abruptly suggested.

"Teleport, you mean?" Hikou asked.

Chichiri nodded.

The demon seemed to muse on this as they continued to walk, and then turned 
his glowing gaze to Chichiri's form. He inspected it, as if seeing how 
healthy the monk was.

"Can you handle it? Are you well enough now?" Hikou asked with deliberate 
caution. "If not, I don't tire much. I can walk."

Chichiri's heart sank. He tried not to think about what Hikou's lack of 
natural fatigue would mean in other realms as well, and instead simply 
decided to assure the demon he could cast his spell with no difficulty.

"It'll be easy now. I'm fully rested, and I've got plenty of energy." 
Chichiri tried to give his most reassuring smile.

Hikou seemed unconvinced, but then rolled his shoulders in a weak shrug and 
said, "It's your choice."

"We'll teleport then," Chichiri said, as he stopped, turning to face the demon.

In his mind's eye, Chichiri could see Hikou reaching for his hand, in those 
cold limestone caves where the water had been the only witness to their 
misguided, unhappy passions. They were leaving the cave, leaving that pit 
of sin, to go to the mountain of Leikauku.

He mimicked it on a whim, extending a single hand for the demon to take.

The glance to the extended and palm and the twist to his features said: I 
did this once. But Hikou did not seem angry. Instead, amused irony graced 
his sharp features.

His hand slid over Chichiri's, till his fingers curled about the monk's palm.

Hikou smirked. Chichiri smiled.

Crimson sprang up around them, lapping over Chichiri's body before 
spreading out in a bubble of liquid flame. It flowed like water over them, 
warmed like a bonfire, and consumed both of them within it's conflagration 
of bloody, violent red despite its relatively gentle warmth.

There were words whispered, lost to either's ears, but both saw the other's 
mouth move. And then--they were gone. Displaced. Unlike Hikou's 
teleportation, Chichiri's was far gentler and easy on the body and soul. 
One moment the rough mountain road was beneath their feet, and the next 
they were up to their ankles in mud.

Mud?

Chichiri wobbled slightly as he felt the ground that was supposed to be 
solid shift and squelch nosily beneath him. He turned from Hikou with a 
jerky motion, and then scanned the land he had brought them to.

A single tree stood solitary by the river; he knew it well. Here he had 
deflected the flooding Shouryuu River, which had once destroyed his own 
village, and saved a pair of lovers. It was the same pair of lovers who 
married with his blessing not a month later, and had named their firstborn 
son for him.

Chichiri's gaze tracked down the swelling river, down its banks, toward the 
village that lay on its shores. The flood had overwhelmed the village. He 
could spy toppled homes, tents, people milling about smeared with mud and 
filth.

And then he was screaming.

"Ou Kenmin! Ryuu Shuusei!" The names ripped free from his throat as he sped 
away, leaving Hikou in stunned silence behind him.

"Kouran!" That name left most painfully of all.

He didn't hear Hikou calling his name behind him. He did not feel the 
splatter of rain against his skin, dampening his bangs against his brow, 
slicking his pony tail against his shoulders. He couldn't even hear his own 
voice, over the thunder of blood in his ears.

He slipped and fell, only to propel himself into a run once he got to his 
feet. If Hikou followed, he knew not or cared not. He had to get into the 
village. He had to find his friends.

The townspeople noticed him, as noisy as he was. He stopped only for a 
moment once within the village proper, and grabbed the first villager to 
cross his path and demand answers.

"Kouran? Shuusei?"

No one knew. Heads shook.

"Headman Ou Kenmin?"

All pointed toward the once-proud home of the village leader and the father 
of Ou Kouran. He'd once shown Chichiri great kindness; his daughter had 
pulled him from the river after he'd tried to join Hikou and Kouran in 
death and Ou Kenmin had taken him in without question or hope of reward. 
But neither of his rescuers would give up hope on him: Kenmin taught him 
the value of his destiny, and Kouran had taught him the value of his own 
life. Without them and the lessons they taught him he would never have 
survived his grief.

He had to find them now. He could not rest until he knew they still lived.

Chichiri ran for the house. He found it with a broken door half off its 
hinges, reeking of illness and death. Only now did he slow; trepidation and 
apprehension gripping his heart.

Shaking hands pushed the door open and he crept inside, quiet like a thief 
and feeling just as guilty.

The sitting room had been gutted, fine furniture ruined and book cases 
overturned. Rare volumes were now waterlogged and spoiled, delicate paper 
drying slowly, swelling the books into bloated mockeries of their former 
beauty.

Chichiri turned into the hall, heading further into the house. The scent of 
rotting wood, pregnant with disease, assaulted his senses. But he pressed on.

He found Kouran's room was empty, and had not seen an occupant in some 
time. Things had been knocked over, and the bedding was sodden with water 
and still damp. He moved deeper within the house.

He hesitated before the closed door to Kenmin's quarters. His hand lifted, 
no matter that it trembled, and pressed against the wet wood. He needed 
only to push it open to see if Ou Kenmin was inside, still alive!

But still he paused. His hands trembled, even half lifed, like flightless 
birds before the maw of the cat that would devour them. He could not move 
forward or back; he was too caught up in the fear that the room could be 
empty, that Kenmin could be dead, that this could be all for naught, that 
he did not come in time--

A hand, warm and living, touched his shoulder and jolted him from the fears 
that held him. He jumped in shock at it, and turned his head to find Hikou 
looming behind him.

Chichiri simply stared at the demon for a moment, before realizing that 
Hikou had cast the spell that enabled him pass as human, just to enter the 
village after his one-time lover.

"Go on," Hikou said softly. The demon tried to keep his features impassive, 
but it was obvious even he was troubled by this twist in their path. "I'll 
be right behind you," he promised.

Hikou laid his hand over the monk's, catching Chichiri's fingers between 
Hikou's palm and the wood of the door.

He knew he had to open it.

Together, they pushed the door open; Hikou's hand fell away from Chichiri's 
as the hinged creaked out their protest. He stepped back into the hall, 
allowing Chichiri his privacy with the man who had once saved his life, 
hoping that he would not damn his soul.

Kenmin lay in his ruined, damp bed. A brazier was lit nearby to keep the 
chill from pervading the room. His jowls were pale, his flesh clammy even 
as Chichiri hurried over to clasp his hand and press his knuckles to the 
man's face to make sure he lived still.

The touches roused the village headman, his eyelids slowly lifting to 
reveal bloodshot eyes.

"Houjun-sama?" Kenmin rasped softly.

"Hai, Kenmin-sama."

The older man's face broke out into a weak smile, and his hand lifted, only 
to be caught within Chichiri's.

"I am so glad you have made it to us," Kenmin said, his reedy voice colored 
with relief. "We had feared the worst, Houjun-sama. Are you alright? Why 
were you delayed?"

"I'm sorry," Chichiri answered, unable and unwilling to explain his 
entanglement with Hikou and the subsequent month as an invalid. "I tried to 
make it here on time, Kenmin-sama."

"It's alright," Kenmin reassured the troubled seishi. "You would simply 
have been caught in the flood with the rest of us. Its better you have come 
now."

Chichiri looked down at the man, expression troubled and confused. "Why?"

"Because now you can bring my children back to me," Kenmin said, his voice 
cracking with the strain. "Kouran. My only child, Houjun-sama. You have to 
find her and her husband. Her child still lives, and he will need his 
family. They could be among the camps of the survivors."

Claw-like, Kenmin's bony hand tightened around Chichiri's, and the monk 
could only endure the clammy grip that held him still and tainted him with 
the chill of death. Desperation had taken Kenmin and drove him to begging, 
and Chichiri was obviously his only hope.

"Please, Houjun-sama," Kenmin pleased. "Find my daughter. Find Kouran."

Chichiri nodded, and answered with all the solemnity that the request 
warranted, "I will do as you ask, Kenmin-sama."

Only then did Kenmin begin to relax. Chichiri's hands went to the thin, 
bony fingers that held his and he began to draw away from their cruel, cold 
grip.

"Please," he said as he tried to take his hand from the older man, "rest 
now. I promise you I won't rest till I find Kouran."

"Search the mountains. If they escaped into the hills surrounding the 
peaks, they are likely there, alive and well..." Kenmin's voice was thin 
with his hope, the need for his daughter's safety achingly apparent.

Chichiri understood all to well what it could be like to out live one's 
family. To out live a daughter would be that much worse.

Kenmin's needy eyes bore into his back as he left the man on his deathbed. 
A shiver ran down his spine, even before the door was closed.

Hikou had waited for him in the hall. His expression was somber as he 
Chichiri closed the door behind him. Once the monk looked up at him, Hikou 
spoke.

"To the hills, then?"

"Yes," Chichiri confirmed. "To the hills."

The demon only nodded, and turned to lead the way out. Guilt stung the 
seishi as he left the house, thankful to be free of the smell of disease 
and rot.

"It'll be hard," Hikou said as he walked through the village. "Do you 
really think you're up to trekking through the hills and into the mountains?"

Chichiri could hear that he meant well; his voice was colored with worry 
and concern, things that normally did not find their way into the demon's 
demeanor. But his answer would remain the same, no matter how much the 
demon might worry for him.

"I have to," he finally answered. "I have to find Kouran, Hikou. I owe her 
that much. Even if she's dead, I have to find her. Do you understand? She 
dragged me from this very river, half-dead and hopeless... and I owe her 
far more than my life. I have to find her, even if it's just to put her to 
rest."

"Baka," Hikou said softly, but there was no venom to his words. Only 
acceptance.

"I know it's a fool's errand. But we both have acknowledged that I am a 
fool, yes?" Chichiri's smile was weak and hardly a reassurance.

"Yes, we do," Hikou replied with weary resignation.

Words ceased between them as they left the village behind them, their grim 
mission laid out before them: Find a living daughter and bring her home, or 
find her corpse to widen the fissure that had all but broken Ou Kenmin's home.

Neither held hope, no matter that they both pressed onward.




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