Assembly Of The Gods

CHAPTER I

Izanagi stalked down a covered veranda at the holy temple at Izumo, the fiery folds of his robe trailing after him, the wood behind his feet smoking softly. The look on his face enough to make a lowly servant hovering in a nondescript doorway take a step back and thank his own particular god for remaining unseen. The lowly servant in question gathered the folds of his robes together, slid the papered door shut and nipped into the interior hall and down to one of the more far-flung reaches of the temple. Eight thousand minor deities and all requiring their own quarters; they could simply will a room into existence, a pity they hadn’t thought to conjure up a few short cuts for their hapless minions. He sighed and ran on, swift and silent.

At the last door in the most distant wing of the complex, he knelt, cleared his throat and slid the papered door back, noting the previous artwork that had adorned the paper had been replaced with a plum, pine and bamboo motif. The room presented to view seemed to smirk with it’s own opulence, saturated with large, plush cushions that crowded on, and surrounded, a huge, plush futon. A plethora of soft blankets covered this futon, and he knew very well how comfortable they were, being privileged with a generous master who thought nothing of sharing his largess with his personal servant. Everything except for the cream walls and tatami mats were coloured black and red; his master’s signature hues. Through an archway waited a private onsen in a small, beautiful garden, shadowed with a sakura tree that bloomed at its master’s wish. Both areas remained unoccupied. He glanced around to find his master sitting cross-legged on a cushion at his writing desk, writing brush dusting back and forth over a scroll, each movement slow and graceful. His master’s gold, silk yukata had slipped off one shoulder to pool at the elbow, revealing a taut nipple and strong shoulder. The folds of gold silk pooled around the black cushion and spilled onto the floor, revealing his toned legs. He stared at the skin on offer, a flicker of warmth trailing down his belly to his groin. No one else could make the flora and fauna burst into ripeness, animal and human turn to thoughts of mating simply by walking by, in his humble opinion. Maybe later he could slide under the covers at his master’s feet and if he were lucky, he’d be invited to move up for closer contact.

He saved his mind from sliding into erotic fantasy with a brisk shake of his head. Duty first. “…master?”

A low, rumbling growl thundered through the air. He shivered and squished his fists over his lap. Duty could wait. There was nothing sexier than that playful warning, coming from him. He resumed his swift, light tread until he could kneel next to his master. He flicked a quick glance at the writing on the table. Seikou, Fuhai, Uragiri, Ai. Sex, rot, betrayal, love. Master was writing poetry again. Then his master turned to him, seeing him, but his mind on his words.

“I gave you the day off.”

He hid a sated smile. And most enjoyable morning it had been, too. After all, one didn’t serve Fumijin sama without finding oneself exuding a tiny portion of the sexuality his god had and was barely aware of. “Master, the assembly will be starting, soon.”

The brush hovered over the scroll, a drop of ink trembling at the tip. “So?”

“His Supreme Holiness Izanagi sama seemed most…fiery.”

The ink fell and splashed on the page. His master shrugged. “He’s always pissy over something.”

He bit down on a shocked giggle and steadied himself. “…but I read Your name in the flames of his robe.”

This drew a raised brow. “Is that so?” Fumijin put his brush down. “In trouble again. Well, forewarned is forearmed.”

His Master ran a hand through his hair. He purred and leaned in to it.

“Thank you, Yasuki.” Fumijin sighed and rose. “Mou. Why do I have to go to these boring assemblies anyway?” He stomped briskly to his closet and with a word, the doors vanished, revealing a plethora of lush robes. “Help me dress?”

Ah, one of his favourite duties. He drew his master’s present robe off his form, leaving the deity naked and beautiful. He took a moment to admire his master as the deity gazed out over the onsen and garden through the open doors. He chose a deep, dark red robe with gold embroidery at the hem and held it out. How well it became his master’s slender form and black hair. “Master?”

Fumijin glanced over at the robe indifferently and nodded. “Yes, that will do.”

He drew the robe over his Master’s form, his hands lingering, touching just a little too much. Fumijin’s lips twitched a little, but he said nothing. He grinned, then chose a wide, black belt with gold embroidery with which to tie the robe and laid out black geta for Fumijin to slide his feet into. Yasuki rubbed his palms together, generating just enough magic to run his hands through his master’s raven locks and transform it into a windswept style. Fumijin glanced into the mirror and nodded. “Excellent.” He held out his hand and his special ceremonial sword flew to greet his palm. He tied the halberk to his silk belt. “Go back to your fun, Yasu.”

Yasuki knelt and nodded. “Will master require my services tonight?” he asked hopefully.

Fumijin grinned and ran a hand through his hair again. “If you’re not already exhausted by the afternoon. I’ll call you.”

That was enough for him. It didn’t matter how many times he frolicked in the hay with Jouta, all he needed was a lingering touch from his Master to be ready once more.

“I’ve felt your spirit aligned with Shin-Kou-Ka’s manservant more and more often.” Fumijin sama smirked. “Having fun?”

“Yes, master,” he replied simply. “Jouta told me that Shin-Kou-Ka sama spends a lot of time in mediation and his duties, so Jouta is often bored and spends time with me.”

“That Shin-Kou-Ka needs to stop gazing at those mortals’ love lives and start paying attention to his own body,” Fumijin snorted. “If he wasn’t my brother I’d wake him up to himself quick smart.” He sent his manservant a sly little smile, his honey eyes dancing. “But then, that Jouta of his is a strong, lusty man. Maybe Shin-Kou-Ka unconsciously knows what his body needs, even if he choses to ignore it.”

Yasuki shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know what disturbed him more; the thought of losing Jouta to Shin-Kou-Ka sama or Fumijin sama, or losing Fumijin sama to Jouta.

“Baka,” Fumijin said softly. “I would never take Jouta away from you, and he certainly couldn’t take me away from you.” He humphed in a way his manservant found adorable. “And Shin-Kou-Ka remains ignorant of his own potential. Anyway, I’m late. Go and fuck with Jouta. Make it energetic, noisy. I want your energy for this bloody meeting. Maybe I’ll stay awake.” He muttered a curse. “Thank god its only once a year.”

He swooped into an extravagant and servile bow. “Your wish is my command, Master.”

Fumijin smirked. “You mean; my command is your wish.”

Yasuki struggled to reign in a grin and stepped away from his Lord, before turning back at the door for a final bow. “Thank you, master,” he said lastly, at the door.

“Go on, go on.” Fumijin waved him on.

He grinned again, then ran swift of foot to find his lover. Yes, he had the best Master in the entire cosmos.

The Divine Izanagi clapped his hands together in three measured beats that thundered down the meeting hall. He rose. “We give our blessing to the reports we have witnessed and heard today. The Assembly is concluded.”

At this, all eight thousand deities rose as one and started to drift out of the hall and back to their own apartments, their own amusements. Fumijin slid behind Ama-Tsu-Mara; the Blacksmith god was big enough to encompass him, and edged towards the door. The reports had been interminable, he’d delivered his own with supreme economy and had entertained himself with composing some choice verses to summarize his feelings. So far, he’d remained unmolested and free. He almost made it to the Great Doors when he heard the Voice.

Fumijin. Please linger for a time.

He bit back a groan and watched Shin-Kou-Ka sail away with a distinctly annoying smug, comfortable clean conscience. He paused. He had a clean conscience! At least, he hadn’t done anything knowingly wrong, although he had to admit his ideas of wrong and right didn’t always gel with the Supreme One. He slowly sank down into his favourite spot and went through a quick mental review of his latest activities. Lately he’d kept mostly to his own apartment, his private onsen, and the Misty Valley, mostly alone, at times with Jouta, or Benten and Aizen-Myou: As the Lady of the wisdom, arts and music, and Lord of love, respectively, he had more in common with them than many others of his Brethren . Nothing there to criticize. Was it work related? Surely not; he’d done his fair share of prodding and poking his quota of humankind into artistic endeavours; done his fair share of deciding their fates. But judging from the Supreme One’s aura, he’d fucked up somehow. Best to agree meekly to all and get it over and done with.

If it killed him.

When he finally sat, he realized the Supreme One wasn’t alone. Great.

“Tell me, Fumijin, Lord of Literature and unofficial Lord of Lust-”

Fumijin suppressed a wicked snort with no noticeable success.

“-What is the purpose of the Assembly?”

He hesitated, wary. “…It’s our yearly council to report on our decisions concerning the love affairs of humankind. Who will stick together and who’s love will remain unrequited. And stuff.”

“Correct,” Izanagi pronounced. He paused. The folds of his robe, until now misty, started to steam gently. “And how many mortals do you guide in Love from their adulthood ceremony until death, Fumijin?”

He went through his list feverishly. Had he missed anyone? “At the moment, seven thousand adults.”

“And how many of these mortals have had their love requited?”

He hesitated. “Ah….”

“How many?”

“…four thousand of them are currently dating,” he hedged.

“Passing over those three thousand mortals who are currently alone for now, of those four thousand, how many are in a relationship of over ten years duration?”

An elastic sleeve seemed to constrict around his heart. Yeah, okay, so he could see where this was heading already. “Well…” He searched frantically for an escape. “…Coincidently, I don’t believe any of them are in such relationships…yet! But, you know, I believe it is healthier and wiser for humankind to experience a variety of relationships in order to learn about themselves and their weakness and to gro-“

“Silence!”

He shut up.

“Who do you think you are trying to deceive? Seven thousand adult mortals under your care, and not a single happy love affair to your sorry credit. You have been warned before about this!”

“Almost all of them wind up married eventually,” Fumijin retorted, stung. “Not a single mortal of mine has ever died a virgin!”

At this Amaterasu moved forward and spoke up, dimming the rays that shone from her until she could be seen directly. “Mortals need more than sex, Fumijin. They need love.”

He bowed His head. “They get that. Most of’ ‘em. In the end.” He hated it when She looked disappointed with Him. The sun goddess was beautiful, and so pure and good. No wonder Shin-Kou-Ka liked to sit in her rays. As the Lord of Rhythm, Shin-Kou-Ka liked to say her rays were simply drum beats made into light. He, however, always felt uncomfortable there. He liked to sit for a small time, enjoy her Light, but sometimes he felt…more hidden in Susanoo’s wind or storm, or His moonlight. He flicked a glance to the dark shadow that hovered at a nearby pillar.

But this is beside the point.” The Supreme Lord’s robe started to flicker into flame. “The truth is that you keep your mortals in ever-changing, unhappy relationships for a good portion of their youth because it inspires your poetry. Can you deny this, Fumijin?”

His heart leapt. He couldn’t. “I don’t see what’s so fucking interesting about easy love,” He retorted. He winced. Stupid.

“Mortals are not your playthings nor your muses!” Izanagi roared. “They are relying on you for their happiness and yet remain unfulfilled while under your care because of your selfishness!”

Fumijin flinched, angry. Angry at Izanagi for butting in, for taking him to task in front of witnesses, for spearing through his heart and making shame burst out to flood him.

A dark shadow shifted, and Tsukiyomi’s face flickered from the moonlight within himself. Fumijin had a glimpse of his thin lips twisted into a smile and long lashes lifting as the deity’s silver eyes flashed, and then the moonlight shifted to highlight his long, long black hair and sable silver robes. “I like it. Fumijin’s poetry.”

Fumijin shivered. The Moon Lord’s voice whispered around him, dark as midnight, sibilant, haunting. For millenia the deity had been an inspiration to him, a lord that he glanced at from behind a door or wall as He glided by. To know He had read his poetry, had taken note of his doings, alarmed him.

“I daresay you do,” Izanagi replied, patently unimpressed. “His poetry always was inspired by you.” Izanagi swept His arms to circumscribe a rough circle, and a mirror shimmered in the air. “Let’s take this man for an example.” The mist inside the mirror cleared to show a man at work in a music store, processing a credit card. He looked to be around thirty years old.

Fumijin felt his heart constrict further, felt his energy become ever more chaotic. Why did it have to be him?

“Taka Tsukino, aged thirty two. Last relationship five years ago with a girl that lasted a record of fourteen months. Since then, he has been a regular at a certain scene, gets laid once in a blue moon…”

“Which reminds me it’s been a while,” Tsuki Yomi murmured, face briefly illuminated. “It’s time for a new one.”

The Supreme One ignored the interruption. “…And no love.” Izanagi paused in His lecture to face him. “Of all your charges, he has received the least amount of love since his coming of age ceremony. Care to explain why?”

Not for the first time, he was glad that being Izanagi’s creation didn’t mean his thoughts were automatically open to him. “Look, I just haven’t yet found someone who suits him, alright?” Fumijin muttered defensively, “He’s…well, he deserves someone good. I figured the Right One must be under someone else’s care so I’ve been asking others for permission to search amongst their charges...” Which was true. Mostly. He’d mentioned it to Shin-Kou-Ka once or twice, had a cursory look or two amongst Benten and Aizen-Myou’s lot.

“Well, this is your new task, Fumijin. We have decided that all the other mortals in your care will be divided up amongst your Brethren…”

Fumijin gasped in shock. “You’re…you’re throwing me out?”

“No.”

He collapsed back in his seat, weak with relief.

“…And yes.”

His heart slammed back into his mouth.

“In order to prove to Us that you can indeed provide your charges with a requited love, it is your task to provide Taka Tsukino with his Soulmate, with whom he shall spend the rest of his life with in perfect harmony and devoted love.”

Fumijin relaxed only slightly. His heart hurt, but he could do it. He could find someone worthy for the man.

“…and you will do it as a human.”

He leapt up from his seat. “…WHAT?”

Izanagi smiled. He quailed. “You are to lose your status and privilege for a period of six months and will be sent to Earth as a mortal. It is your task to find this Soulmate for Taka Tsukino in this time. Should you succeed, all former status and privilege will be returned to you. Should you fail…”

Fumijin shivered.

“…you will remain mortal and die mortal.”

“NO!” he burst out. “You can’t be serious!”

“I am serious. For too long have you taken light of your duties. You will succeed or die.”

He collapsed back in his seat once again, too shocked for words. Never before had anyone been punished so severely. Terror and injustice welled up inside of him, but the Supreme One never misspoke, never changed His mind. He somehow managed to lift to his feet and sketch an awkward bow. “As Your Holiness Desires,” he jerked out.

“You have our permission to depart.”

He walked backwards the requisite tens steps then flew around and stalked out, calling silently for his servant. Six months as a human…or even worse. And the only way to avoid it was to find a Soulmate for Taka Tsukino. He cursed. But no one was right for the man! It wasn’t as if he hadn’t kind of tried!

He headed back to his apartments, anguished.

“A harsh punishment,” Tsuki Yomi’s voice whispered and shivered around the hall.

“But justified, I fear,” Amaterasu returned. Her glow brightened. “As fond as we all are of the Lord of Literature, he has been guilty of thoughtless selfishness. This cannot be allowed to continue. For his mortal’s sake, he must be made to realize the pain he puts his charges through. As yet, he only sees, he does not understand.”

“This will teach him to understand the necessity of requited love,” Izanagi opined. “If he fails, he will become mortal, and he will die. If he continues to try to find Taka Tsukino love through his mortal life, I will restore him to his former status after his mortal death, but strip him of the ability to manipulate romantic attachments, He will be Lord of Literature only.”

“Then why did you not tell him so?” Tsukiyomi’s voice breathed. “I fear he is distressed beyond measure.”

“If he thinks he will truly die, he will try harder, and I feel the inevitability of mortality will help him understand the urgency and the joy of requited love. Fumijin believes failure means death. He is not to be informed otherwise.” Izanagi drew his robes together. “If he does not try, he will truly die indeed. But I do not fear that he is that lost to his selfishness. His heart remains pure.”

“Than we shall wait. And we shall watch.” Amaterasu agreed.

Fumijin sat up amongst his pillows and cushions and ran his hand down Yasuki’s back, his ass, the back of his long thighs. His manservant slept on, a crease between his brows. Fumijin touched his fingertips to that crease, and the young man’s face smoothed to serenity. He ran his fingers down the carved cheeks, removing the last trace of tears. It was the last thing he could do for him, for the next six months, perhaps forever. He shook his head. No, it wouldn’t come to that. It couldn’t.

He rose and moved over to his desk, chose the brush he had made himself, the paper produced from his fingertips, and wrote. When he was done, he breathed on it and made the words burst into flame. With a word, the paper flew to the door and stayed there, flames dancing. He managed a grim smile. There. The rooms were now set apart for Yasuki and Yasuki only. No one else could take them over or take them from His servant, at least not without the united agreement of the Lords Izanagi, Susunoo, Tsukiyomi and Lady Amaterasu.

He felt a presence at his door and shivered. Of all to come for Him, did it have to be Him? He squared his shoulders. He might be a minor deity, have far less power than Tsuki Yomi, but he was still a Lord here, at least until he was sent away. The door slid open at his approach to reveal a dark shadow waiting outside. Moonlight whispered across the densest part of the darkness, showing silvery eyes, that enigmatic smile.

“Come, Lord of Literature. Your…journey…awaits.”

Oh, cute. Next they’d be calling it a holiday. “Thanks,” he muttered.

He walked side by side with the dark shadow, flicking glances over at his Companion, making out the black robes, the column of His neck, and the long hair that flared out behind Him, dancing to a night breeze of His own. Then the moonlight spread, and he could see the Deity’s full form, His long body, the curve of His neck, His cheeks, His thin lips and nose.

“I am relying on you to be successful, Fumijin kun.”

He could do nothing but jerk out a nod.

“You have long watched over this man, have you not?”

He jerked his head over. “…What? How did…?”

“Oh, come come, Fumijin kun. His loneliness, his passion, the music he writes when he is with me at night…Your stamp, Fumijin kun. Your mark.”

He drew his robes closer to his body. “He’s the most interesting, that’s all. He listens to me, he draws on my power more than most.”

“Ah, a disciple?”

He squirmed. “No. He has no idea I even exist, he’s never paid attention to their legends. But he can hear me.”

They turned a corner and walked down a long hall. Fumijin felt the tatami mats crunch under his feet. Home for so many millennia.

“Then I need not worry for you, Fumijin kun. Already he listens to you, already he allows himself to be guided by you. What you have as a god, you will retain wisps of as a mortal; Eons of magick cannot be wiped out so easily, even by Our Divine Lord Izanagi. Find a suitable mate, draw them together, and your work is done and you will be back at your table, blessing us with your verses once more.”

The thought of this familiarity denied him made him feel sick. “…I’m scared of dying,” he finally blurted out.

The Divine Tsuki Yomi stopped his silent tread and turned to him. “No, you’re terrified. Hardly surprising.”

They were at the entrance to the Great Hall. Fumijin fought back a wave of sickness as his knees buckled. Tsuki Yomi drew him close. He could smelt the night on Him, and a breeze that carried the scent of leaves and fragrant herbs. He drew strength from it, lost himself in it, drew the darkness around him. Amazing that it felt so natural. “I won’t die, I won’t!’” he gritted out.

“Of course you won’t. This task will be easy for you. You know this man. You know what he likes, what he needs. Just give it to him, and come back to us.”

He sucked in a deep breath and drew away. “Watch over Yasuki for me, okay? Tsuki Yomi nodded. He lifted his chin. He would not appear weak for anyone’s amusement, certainly not before Tsuki Yomi, however gratifying and amazing His attention, His concern was. But the Moon Deity was right. He could do this. He knew what Taka needed, which was half the battle. Artistic. Musical, definitely. Can play an instrument, preferably a guitar. Shares the same workaholic nature but knows how to have fun at the same time. Tall, definitely. Quirky good looks – enough to attract him without intimidating him. A little bit sexy, a little bit goofy. A soccer player. But for recreation, not pro. Now all he needed to do was find this paragon. He set his shoulders, pushed Tsuki Yomi back and marched into the Hall as the Great Doors slid open. In the distance, he could see the Bridge Of Heaven waiting to lead him to Earth. Uzume sama stood at it’s entrance. He winced. Oh, it was her bridge and he knew she was required to guide all onto it, but she was the goddess of joy and happiness for heaven’s sake – it was just plain insulting. He firmed his lips, brushed off Tsuki Yomi’s hand and stepped forward.

CHAPTER II

“But the advert said I’d get a free poster with that!”

Taka sucked in a long, slow, breath, and let it out. Gently. “Yes it did say that, but as I said before, the CD came out two weeks ago and we ran out of posters on the first day. It’s terribly unfortunate, but as I said before, the advert did stipulate ‘while stocks last’.”

“But why didn’t you order in some more right away?”

Why didn’t your parents practise safe sex? Because accidents happen. “We did order some more posters in, and those also went quickly. It’s usually a good idea to come in within a day or two of release if you wish to obtain the free presents.” He faked a smile. If you promise to leave me alone, “I’ll ring up our supplier and see if they have any posters left. If you leave your name and contact details with me…” I’ll toss them the moment your back’s turned, you stupid, whining brat.

The female in question huffed, slung her Louis Vuitton handbag out of the way and wrote her contact details as requested. N.A.O.D. Nod, Agree and Obtain Details. He silently blessed the guy who’d trained him. Another customer gripping two CDs in his hand was waiting, it was near the end of his shift, and he was starving and tired. When she was finally gone, the meek salaryman pushed forth his offerings, he accepted a ten thousand yen note, and took great pleasure in giving the man two free posters with his change. The irony would have been better if it had been the band the female had desired, but they shared a private smile of sympathy instead. Then the man was gone. He heaved out a sigh, slumped down on a stool that waited hidden behind the counter, and allowed himself the luxury of squeezing his eyes shut in pained denial as the chimes linked to the door sounded at it’s opening.

“Uh…hello?”

For a moment, he considered keeping his eyelids shut and telling the Voice to fuck off but…he needed the job, and the Voice….the Voice… He opened his eyes.

A thin young man of medium height with shaggy black hair was staring intently at him. He flushed a little and sat up. The man was shifting, fidgeting, flexing his fingers. He’d never seen a guy look so uncomfortable in his own skin, yet not seem timid.

“…I saw your ad for a housemate.”

He sat up in earnest. Thank god for one ray of light in the miasma of irritation. “…I’d almost given up hope.”

The man flushed guiltily – surprising – and shrugged. “Um, I’d like to apply.”

He dragged himself out of the eye contact, clambered to his feet and tried to gather together some shreds of dignity. “Well, uh, it’s sixty thousand a month. No key money, no bond. It’s tiny but it’s quite new and clean. Two bedrooms, communal bathroom, communal living room and kitchenette. It doesn’t get a single ray of light, but it’s quiet, and the nearest station’s only a five minute walk.” He paused. “I smoke, but no drugs – I don’t want the trouble.”

The man nodded absently. “…Fine, fine.” He stared again. “When can I move in?”

He drew back. “Well, uh…”

The man looked alarmed. “You have someone else in mind?”

He blinked. “Well, uh…no.”

“Then that’s settled.” He gave a hesitant smile and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Uh, I have my stuff at a hotel, you’re finishing up now, right? Can I meet you there in about an hour?”

His brows rose. “Yeah, I’m done here.” He offered a diffident smile. “If you like I’ll come with you. It’s a bit tricky to find if you don’t know the short cuts.”

The man gave an engaging grin that he couldn’t help return. “Oh, that’s okay, I already know…” he stopped abruptly, hesitated, and continued “I mean, I scoped the place out this morning, ‘cause I wanted to see if it was someplace convenient, and I stumbled over it by, um, luck. ‘The Box’, isn’t it?”

His brows drew close, but he shrugged. “Oh. Yeah, that’s it. Apt, isn’t it?” He went about his closing up routine and glanced at the man over his shoulder. “So…what’s your name?”

“Uh, Amano. Amano Fumijin. But call me Fumi. Everyone does.”

He chuckled as he wound up the till. “Fumijin? Like the God of Literature? Is it your real name?”

The man laughed too, if in a forced way. “Yeah, it is.”

“Sick of the jokes?” he guessed.

“Um, no, not really. I just had…um, y’ know, liberal parents.”

Only his teeth were clenched as he said it. He finished locking the money away and managed a twisted smile. “Better than having ultra conservative, strict, joyless parents.” The man shot him a look, he dropped his head, flushed and cleared his throat as he slung his bag over his shoulder. “Well, I’m done here. Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

He locked up, fell into step beside his unexpected companion and glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. The man seemed normal enough, though the way he’d hesitated over admitting he knew where he lived was a bit…funny. The reason he’d given was logical, but…why the awkward stumble? Please not a weirdo stalker. Please.

Together they walked down the street, side by side. The early spring breeze was crisp enough for him to be glad of his coat but it was reviving after the stuffy conditions in the store. His heart lifted. It was Friday, he was done for the week, and he had a new housemate just in the nick of time. It was like a miracle. “So, where are you from?”

The guy started. “Uh, me? Oh. I’m from…Kyoto. I came up here a day or two ago because of…work commitments.”

His heart started to sink. “How long do you anticipate being here?”

The guy’s forehead creased. “About six months, I hope. Then I’ll go back home.”

The guy sounded like he couldn’t wait. He sighed and felt his hope thud back to basement. So much for the miracle. Still, six months was six months grace for him to find someone else, or maybe move to a one bedroom apartment and truly live alone. The thought depressed him. Sure, hope seemed to reside at rock bottom, but it was still there. He couldn’t imagine room for hope in the kind of one-bedroom dwelling he could afford. “What kind of work do you do?”

Fumi shot him a look, shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I’m filling in as an assistant editor at Tokaido publishing house while the previous assistant takes maternity leave.”

“Oh.” Maybe this lady would decide to quit permanently – happened more often than not. But did the guy want to stay in Tokyo? Didn’t sound like it. “You did that kind of work back home?” he prodded.

“Uh, yeah, kind of.” Fumi’s voice drifted away, his thoughts following, judging from the look on his face. He looked up into his face and gave a little half-grin. “Well, what else could you expect, with my name?”

He grinned. “Makes sense.” They walked together silently for a little while longer. Taka dodged an old lady on a bicycle and accepted a packet of tissues from a promotional company on automatic as he walked. “…So, which hotel?”

“Shinjuku Vintage, so it’s not so far away.”

Oh good. On the nearest train line, no annoying connections to negotiate. They reached the local train station, bought tickets and waited for the next train in a silence Taka chose to describe as companionable. When the train came, they boarded with the rest of the herd, only to find the seats mostly full with no two together free. He decided to stand instead and turned to his new housemate, who was looking less than thrilled about his surroundings. His surroundings, however, looked rather thrilled with him. Three girls, two women and two men were stealing glances, longing looks. So others felt the tug too. It made him feel better about it. “So, what are you into in your free time?”

Fumi started and shrugged. “I ah, do a bit of writing, a bit of drawing, um, go sightseeing.” There was a pause. “How about you?”

The tone of voice was perfunctory and he drew back a little. “Oh, nothing special,” he returned. “I play guitar a little, read manga, go drinking with a few friends when they’re free. I like sightseeing too.”

The man took a good look at him and offered an embarrassed smile. “…I guessed you must have interests like that. Y’know, working in a music store, the calluses on your fingers…and your Asahi T-shirt.”

Taka smiled a bit, mollified. “Oh, I guess so. Heh.”

The train drew up to their stop, they stepped out as one. Taka racked his brains for something to say. “Do you, um, have a girlfriend? Y’ know, we can arrange times when we can have the place to ourselves…”

“Huh? Oh, no, nup.”

He relaxed. How he’d hated his last housemate; loud and tactless at three in the morning and ostentatiously smug the next morning, pitying him. “’Cause, y’ know, just let me know, I can disappear for the evening.” He attempted a jokey kind of laugh. “I’m not seeing anyone right now, so it should be fine.” He glanced over in time to see the man smile a private, grim smile. It was determined, slightly mysterious. Evidently he wasn’t planning on staying single for long. He sighed.

The hotel was easy to find and Fumi had only two suitcases. The man paid, returned a graceful but deprecating response to a rather overt flirt, and they left. He glanced once more at his new housemate. The guy wasn’t even your classically tall, handsome stud, but…he had something. Maybe he can teach me. But he suspected it was something you couldn’t learn. He’d tried.

It didn’t take long to reach the slab of cement he called home. He pushed the button for the elevator, it arrived promptly and emptied out the guy two doors down. They gave each other brief nods, he entered with Fumi, and then they were at level three, apartment four. He fished out his keys and they were soon inside. He shoved his shoes into the genkan and gestured to the opposite empty shelves. His new flatmate cottoned on quickly. He moved down the corridor to the kitchen and put the kettle on. “Your room’s the second door on the right,” he called.

“Thanks.” He heard the door slide open and felt absurdly pleased that it didn’t slide straight back shut behind it’s new occupant. There was the sound of movement, of the suitcase zips opening, of clothes being hung up in the closet.

“Thanks for buying new sheets,” came Fumi’s voice. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” he returned. He ambled over and stood in the doorway, offering a twin mug of the green tea he sipped at. Fumijin was in the middle of spreading the fitted sheet over the comfy futon that lay in the corner. What an ass; gently rounded, in snug jeans. He cleared his throat and hid his face in the steam as Fumijin straightened and turned to him, his face lighting up at the tea. The man accepted the proffered mug with alacrity. “Thanks. And of course I owe you something.”

“They were on special. Two thousand yen all up, promise. Consider it a welcome gift.”

The grin he received made him glad he’d ignored his fears at being looked at weirdly, at being retreated from. “When you’re done, I know a good Yakiniku restaurant nearby. There isn’t much in the fridge right now,” he explained hastily.

“Sounds great.” The man sipped at his tea and stared at his remaining bag. He glanced down. A few tattered novels, CDS, an iPod, the usual junk of your average male, packed on top of a laptop computer. The man made short work of shoving the books and CDs into the small bookcase in the corner, and the laptop landed on top of the futon while it snoozed. He came over and helped the man lift the suitcases up on top of the cupboard. “Right, I’ll just have a shower, then.”

He nodded and made himself back away, to keep a conventional distance. “I’ll be out in the lounge when you’re ready.” He walked into the lounge and indulged in a tiny dance of victory. Yes. He had a flatmate, he wouldn’t have to pay the full rent by himself, and his new flatmate…he damned sure seemed better than the last one. Not that he knew much about him, of course, but the aura was good. At least the man seemed comfortable around him, he only hoped he wouldn’t screw things up.

Fumi shuffled out of the toilet and glanced back at it distastefully. Why would anyone want to be human? Still… He transferred his human form over to the bathroom, stripped off his clothes and gave himself a thorough wash, trailing his hands down his arms, his chest, his waist, his thighs. Human skin felt just as nice as his real form. Maybe while he found love for Taka, he could find some temporary ‘love’ himself to give the body a test drive before he returned home. Would it feel the same too? He’d occasionally watched his mortals getting it on, especially Taka, but he still wanted to try it himself.

He stood under the spray and closed his eyes, the better to feel the suds slide down his body and wash away. For a second he was tempted to find out if his new body had all the pleasure spots and best-loved places his real body had, but he didn’t want to keep Taka waiting. It’d do another time. Six months at least.

He gave the body a vigorous scrub. It enjoyed it as much as his real body did. In fact, there didn’t seem to be much different, except this one held an urgency in it his real body didn’t have. Suddenly he needed to eat, he needed to drink. Cold was more intense, as was heat. While that raised intriguing possibilities of an amorous nature, he sure as hell detested the lack of control.

He shovelled himself into jeans and a t-shirt. A far cry from his sumptuous robes, but there was a novelty about it. When he emerged from the steam he found Taka perched on the elderly sofa arm, his eyes closed, nodding his head gently in time to the music pounding from the stereo system. What a familiar sight: Alone, with a favoured drink in hand, listening to his favourite music, probably dreaming. What did he dream of? Damn the rules, anyway! What harm was it in reading their humans’ minds? But no, it was deemed too intrusive and unnecessary. He could only hear direct prayers, and hardly anyone ever prayed anymore, unless their situation was so desperate only an idiot couldn’t tell what they were thinking.

He stared at his human while the man sat oblivious. He seemed so much larger, so much more…real. Watching him from back home had made the man seem so…distant. He’d never noticed that expression on the man’s face before. Wistful. “…Taka?”

The man jerked alert and scrambled off the sofa. “Oh, ah…help yourself, I’ll have a quick wash.”

He nodded, and tried to look like he didn’t know the place like the back of his hand. “Uh, mugs?”

“Lower left shelf.” Taka pointed appropriately and disappeared into the bathroom. He entertained himself by making some odd plans to achieve a successful mission. The assistant editor job was, of course, complete crap. It wasn’t going to be crap, but he’d wrested a few concessions amidst the punishment, and a plentiful income to support a full-time search had been one of them. There were internet sites to investigate, clubs to list and visit, groups to have a look over. By the time Taka emerged from the shower, he was feeling heartened. The only reason Taka failed to score was because he hadn’t been going out much, and he himself had steered the man away from those less than worthy. Well, maybe he’d have to lower his standards for the guy. It was a damned shame, but perhaps Taka didn’t expect perfection, and he needed to get back home where he belonged.

“Uh, ready?”

He smiled. “Sure.” He fell into step beside his project and they left the apartment. “Well, you were right about the apartment,” he mentioned. “Zero sunlight.” He noticed Taka shoot him a glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Is that going to be a problem?

“Nah, it’s fine.” Well, might as well get started. “Er, look, I know you don’t really know me yet, but since I’m kinda knew here, I was hoping you’d tell me where the best shops and clubs and stuff are. Like, if you’ve got recommendations…”

“Oh, sure.” There was a pause as they shuffled into the elevator and Taka pressed for ground level. “…In fact, if you don’t know anyone here, y’ know, we can, like, hang out together a bit…I’ll introduce you to my friends,” the man finished hastily.

He winced. His last housemate had done this to him. Made him hesitant of showing friendliness. How he’d hated that flatmate. How he’d enjoyed sending a little sweet Karma the guy’s way. “That’d be really neat. Thanks.”

The lowering of Taka’s shoulders, the little exhale, it pleased him.

“No worries.”

They mooched along in a comfortable silence. He glanced around him curiously. He was vaguely familiar with the area, of course, having watched over Taka all his life, but it sure felt strange to see it from a human’s point of view. He couldn’t help but notice how many heads turned as he walked by; he wondered if he didn’t seem quite normal to them, or whether Tsuki Yomi was right, and even banishment into human form couldn’t quite destroy who he really was. Which sounded very grand, of course, but wouldn’t help him win.

The Yakiniku restaurant was small, dimly lit, badly furnished, and served food that wouldn’t be despised in the Heavens. He lifted a brow as he savoured a lightly-grilled shitake mushroom. Then again, with food, he never had despised much. He took a quick glance at his project. Taka was turning over some meat on the grill, looking more relaxed than he’d ever had since his flatmate had walked out on him. He had a quick look around. There were three waitresses and two waiters, all young, probably students financing their studies. He affected a casual tone as one of the girls walked their way. “Not bad looking, that girl.”

Taka glanced up, patently surprised, then took a look at the girl. Fumi processed the polite cast that washed over his face. “Oh yes. Not bad.” The man’s polite expression intensified. “Er…she looks…very fashionable.”

Fumi dropped the girl and her type off his list. He gestured to the waitress in the far corner. “She looks a little more natural, doesn’t she? A bit unusual, these days.”

Taka followed the glance, and he saw agreeableness spark in the man’s eyes. “Yes, I like her hair. And she looks kind.”

Natural black, wholesome-looking. No modern bleached blondes. Demure, modest.

“…But I’m not sure what I could talk about with her, she looks a bit prim.”

But lively. Earthy.

Fumi made sure to look away as Miss Fashionable approached their table. He was forced to look up again, however, as Miss Fashionable hovered so close his shoulder was wedged under her breasts.

“Do the honourable guests require anything?”

He glanced up to find her staring at him. He knew that expression well. He cleared his throat and turned to enquire after Taka’s needs, to find the man eyeing him ruefully, a touch of jealousy under the surface. He managed a half-hearted smile. “Taka?”

“More beer.”

“More beer, then, and another oolong tea.”

“Yes, sir, thank you.” She bowed and tripped away, sending a glance back to him.

He ran the gauntlet of Taka’s stare. “Uh, great restaurant here,” he tried.

“Yeah, great.” His companion snorted. “I’ve been here on average once a fortnight and have yet to generate no less than five requests to provide service. How do you do it?”

He flushed. He’d almost been starting to feel comfortable in the borrowed skin but all the awkwardness of it was back. “Um, catnip?”

Taka snickered and chased up some meat on his plate. “It’s like you’re god in disguise.”

Fumi managed a sickly grin and busied himself in setting the last of the meat onto the grill. “Damn, you found me out.” This generated another laugh and he forced himself to relax. I’m still a god. I’m still a god, damn it! I’m not a human, this is just temporary. And so he’d better start getting on with smirked inwardly. Of course, the fact that Taka swung both ways didn’t hurt, and who had thought to nurture that inclination? He paused for a moment of self-congratulation, and then let his eyes wander to rest on a particularly well-favoured waiter. Taka’s eyes followed his.

“Good looking guy, isn’t he?” the man murmured. The pallidness of the words belied the attraction in the man’s eyes. Slender, shaggy hair. Good, good. He was narrowing down favoured types. He shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps Lord Izanagi may have had a tiny valid point. After looking after the man for around twelve years it was pretty lame to not really know Taka favoured type. In the past he’d tended to throw someone flashy and insubstantial Taka’s way while he’d procrastinated over finding the right person.

Since there wasn’t much in the way of work he could get done on the first day, he spent the rest of the night gaining the man’s trust, chatting about movies and music, games and anime, this and that. Other of his brethren may have looked askance at his predilection for immersing himself in human entertainment, unseen yet present, but he’d enjoyed it and it was certainly working to his advantage now. They even had the same tastes; nothing was more fun than utterly decimating pathetic crap together, unless it was rehashing some of the coolest dialogue or lines or lyrics.

By the time they were laughing over a joke on the way back to the apartment, he realized he hadn’t had so much fun in….a long time. Oh, he enjoyed Yasuki’s company of course, his occasional get-togethers with those of his brethren he could get along with, but…maybe this would be bearable for six months after all. And if he simply had to be human for six months, he couldn’t imagine anyone he’d prefer to endure it with than Taka.

So when Taka mentioned coffee out on the patio, he agreed right away. He moved outside and stared up at the full moon while he listened to the noises the man made in preparing the coffee. The air was warm but a pleasant cool breeze teased as his arms and neck. There were buildings all around the apartment block, all he could see was the night sky above. It was a desolate spot, this patio. All his good mood evaporated as he stared at the moon, that shone bright, framed with dark clouds. In the quiet of the night, he was so alone, so cut off from his kin, so out of place. “You’d better be taking care of Yasuki,” he murmured. “I know he acts energetic all the time, but he gets lonely easily.” A wave of homesickness welled up, he swallowed a lump in his throat. Was Tsuki Yomi keeping his promise? Was he listening now? Or had they returned to their own interests, aware that he couldn’t complete his mission in only a day.

There was movement behind him, and then Taka came out to join him, proffering a mug. He gave himself a quick shake and turned to accept the mug with a pretty good grin. They both sat on the metal fold-out chairs. Fumi took a sip of the beverage on offer. It was rich and sweet and absolutely perfect.

“So, as you can see, it was the view that sold me on this place,” Taka observed.

Fumi cracked out a laugh. Yes, he missed home, but…there could also be a kind of home where Taka was.

CHAPTER III

Done for the day. Fumi took a quick glance at his watch, printed out a final list of all the best clubs in the area, the details of a few social clubs he thought Taka might not be too embarrassed to go to, and a list of the local internet dating sites. He shut down his laptop, filed the printouts into his folder, and took a quick glance at his ‘office’ as he walked through the door. Not a bad room; a desk, comfortable chair, and a sofa under the window, a bar fridge, kitchenette and tiny toilet. Not bad, he brought in food and didn’t have to see a single bloody person all day. He took the stairs down to the first floor and glanced back at the office complex as he left it. Tokaido Publishing House gleamed with well-bred pride from the middle of the list of companies that could afford the rent in the building. He allowed himself a smug smile as he trudged to the nearest train station. Lord Izanami might be the High Lord over them all, but he wasn’t above being cajoled, tricked and manipulated. A cushy ‘office’, unlimited funds…it made the job easier.

Everybody jostled him as he boarded the train, he counted up four arm strokes, two butt touches, and an all-out grab for his package. It wasn’t crowded. He bit down on a gratified smile. People could sense something about him, he wasn’t ordinary. It was comforting. He had a good look at the mortals on the train. None of them were his. Or were his. Their lives were so brief, so meaningless. He took a good look at the salary man beside him. The man’s eyes were far too tired for such a young guy. He stared out the window with a kind of numb, hopeless endurance that made him uncomfortable. He turned to look at the next salaryman nearby, who balanced a girl on his lap. Cooing and cuddling, content, no dark circles, happy giggles. He sent an annoyed glance up to the heavens.

When the doors opened at his station he dashed for freedom quick smart. Dammit, he was making the best of things, determined to set things right with Taka, he didn’t need these pointed little morality plays. He stomped down the street and round the corner until he came to the local Tower Records branch. He peered in through the window. Taka was at the counter with a customer, both heads bent over a CD or DVD, yakking away, probably discussing bonus features or tracks, live performances, composition merit, who knew? He smiled. His charge was always the most charming when he was lost in his musical enthusiasm. His face was shining and he looked happier at these times than at any other. He eased in and found an aisle to hide behind as he watched Taka wrap up the purchase, still chatting with the customer. He took a look at the customer. Young? Cute? Yes, young, cute…but there was a ring on his wedding finger. Damn. He needed to find someone who appreciated music the way Taka did.

The salaryman left smiling, and Taka went through the closing motions, looking more cheerful than he had in years. He enjoyed the expression for a moment then sauntered out. “Hi.”

Taka’s head went up and he brightened, but quickly damped it down to a more moderate look. “Hi, didn’t expect to see you. How was your day?”

That last flatmate again. Fumi winced. What a mistake. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but he’d been so wrong. He put some extra enthusiasm into his grin. “Glad to be finished. Thought I’d drop by since it’s on the way anyway. Thought we might grab a beer at the local beer garden or something…”

The man let his guard down a bit and grinned as he shoved his wallet into his back pocket. “Sounds great.”

“Hey, it’s Friday.”

“Thank god.”

Excellent. There were always lots of people at beer gardens; single people, looking for partners. With any luck, the beer garden he’d chosen would be packed and they’d have to share a table with others. Of course, the hard part was getting Taka confident enough to talk to eligible others.

He flashed a glance at the man as Taka locked up the store. “I thought that beer garden on the top of Matsudaiya department store. It’s not too far away.”

“Sounds good to me.”

When the elevator doors opened to deposit them at the beer garden, Fumi grinned in satisfaction. Loads of young, vibrant, pleasantly inebriated people for him to choose from. Perfect. He scanned the crowd for likely prey. Taka made a beeline for a corner.

“I think there’s a gap over there…”

Fumi bit down a sound of annoyance and steered his roommate towards a more populated spot near the middle. “We’d never get served in that poky hole,” he explained. “Let’s sit over here. There’s some spare seats at that table. They won’t mind.”

From the wooden expression on Taka’s face, he minded but he ignored it. It was just Taka being insecure again. Well, he wasn’t going to let the man succumb to it. He turned to the group – mixed sex, around Taka’s age, perfect. “Got any room?”

Space was made for them with a lot of discrete pushing and shoving and giggles. There were about four empty beer jugs, one tipped over. He gave a nod to the group in general. “I’m Fumi, this is Taka.”

Taka gave that little arrogant lift to his chin and nodded. Fumi rolled his eyes. Yup, insecure and trying to hide it. The group gave their own names with good-natured bonhomie. Fumi took the opportunity to sit, leaving Taka to slowly sit opposite him, next to a nice-looking girl. He brightened, pleased with himself. Here was a golden moment, lots of potentials who gave every appearance of being friendly. He signalled the waiter. This was going to be great. Find the best one here, manoeuvre the prize Taka’s way, and he’d be presiding over their wedding (or same-sex partnership) from where he belonged. He’d even ensure good weather and a blooming sakura complete with petals raining down for them. And bless any progeny. “Two beers, please.”

He woke in agony. A hammer was smashing his skull to pieces, His stomach roiled. His eyes were gritty and his limbs lethargic. He had time to take only one bleary look around him – he recognized his own room at least – before instinct told him to stagger to the toilet. He made it with milliseconds to spare. For the first time in his existence, he was violently sick. At first it was just messy, but it was a relief, in it’s own way. But then it hurt; his stomach seemed to twist into a knot with every retch. His head pounded so hard he couldn’t even see, and he thought he might even pass out. Unfortunately he wasn’t that lucky. He moaned. He knew what pain was, of course, but he’d never felt it himself, until now. He didn’t like it.

It seemed to go on forever. Long past the stage of having nothing left in him, he still heaved, his head still smashed. In between waves of pain, he heard a gentle knock on the door.

“Fumi?”

He couldn’t even see to open the door. He flushed the commode and fumbled for the handle, but Taka opened it himself.

“You poor thing. Not much of a drinker, are you?”

He risked opening his eyes to slits and winced. He had a vague idea of Taka in a t shirt and boxers and managed to unlock his jaw. “Help.”

“Come out here. I’ve got some extra-strength painkillers and antacid.”

Fumi allowed himself to be led out to the kitchen area, and groaned as he felt himself being pressed to sink down onto the sofa. “I feel awful.”

“Here.”

He accepted some pills and water and spent a few seconds contemplating them. He swallowed, the movement making the pounding in his head flare up. “Oh god make it stop!” he begged.

“Sorry, only time will do that.” Taka proffered a banana. “Eat it; it’ll help settle your stomach.

He stared at it without enthusiasm.

“Go on, I know you don’t want to, but it’ll really help. Here, I’ll even peel it for you.”

Taka was as good as his word. He accepted the fruit wordlessly and ate it, bite by reluctant bite. He watched Taka fetch something from the kitchen closet. He hoped it was a miracle.

“Here, antacid.” Taka gave him some liquid. He took it and drank it down. It tasted like peppermint chalk. Lovely. Well, it wasn’t a miracle. He sighed listlessly and sat back in numb misery, clutching his stomach. His flatmate put the kettle on, grabbed two mugs and dumped a green tea bag in each. He sighed and wondered what was the point of those damned painkillers when they didn’t work. “How long does it take?” he whined.

“For what?”

“For the painkillers to work. I thought they’d work right away.”

“Geez, you sound like you’ve never taken them before. Give them fifteen minutes.”

Fumi was vaguely aware he’d made a mistake but he was in too much pain to care. He sat and endured until Taka offered him the tea and sank onto the sofa beside him. He nursed the mug silently and felt very sorry for himself.

Fifteen minutes later, the painkillers kicked in. Taka offered some warm toast at just the right moment. Half an hour later and he was fully functional. Well, mostly functional. Functional enough to cast his tender mind back to the evening before. He remembered the beer garden. Yes, he’d steered Taka to a crowded table, introduced themselves, ordered drinks. They’d chatted to some girl, and two guys? For a while. He couldn’t for the life of him remember their names, but they’d been lively and generous with the beer. He had a vague memory of enjoying the beer and having brilliant conversation with one of the girls…. “What happened?” he groaned.

Taka recounted what he already knew, but was able to progress further into the mystery. “…and so we chatted with Satomi and Jun for a while, and we started drinking, you really liked the lychee and zakuro sour drinks. I guess you’re not much of a drinker, huh?” Taka smiled, his eyes heavy. “So in the end you passed out.”

His eyes widened. “…Passed out?” he froze. He knew what humans were capable of when inebriated. He’d laughed and felt so, so smug. Sick humiliation wormed up in his gut. “….did I make a complete fool of myself?”

“No, nothing like that.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. He knew Taka, the man couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag. If he said it like he meant it, it was true.

“You were very talkative for a while; the life of the party. But by the time you got comatose everyone else was already before you. So no one witnessed the graceful slide to the floor.”

He stared at Taka suspiciously over the rim of his mug. Was that…? Yes, it was. He glared.

Muffled laughter escaped from between Taka’s fingers and he was so obviously restraining hellish glee he considered eviscerating him. He sighed and slumped back against the sofa. “Did I dance on the tables?” he hesitated. “Strip naked?”

Taka laughed. “No, you just insisted that you were really Lord Fumijin, God of Literature and you lived in the Great Palace. You told everyone all these great stories about life up there.” He laughed heartily. “It was amazing, how real you made it seem. It would make a great novel, you know, if only you could remember it.”

Fumi also laughed. He managed to get three short ha’s out before abandoning the effort. He could imagine the hilarity back home. He was never going to live it down. Even worse… “…Did you uh, get any of their phone numbers?” he asked casually.

“No.” Taka flushed. “Sorry. If I’d known you wanted them, I would have asked, but by the time it was time to go, they weren’t in any state to be remembering their own names.”

“Not for me,” he cried, “I wanted you…oh, never mind.” He cradled his head. Oh great. Just great. Not only was he the laughing stock of the heavens, he’d totally screwed up a golden opportunity to get the job done. He wanted to pummel himself till he was black and blue.

“How are you feeling now?”

Dandy. His lips curled up through force of will alone. “Better than before.”

“Great. Why don’t you have a shower? I’ll make up a proper breakfast while you’re in.”

He managed a more genuine half-smile. “Sounds good.” He eased himself upright and trudged off to the room of wet and warmth and steam. He scrubbed out the smoke and alcohol and sickness and felt much better by the time he emerged, freshly shaved, freshly clothed. He felt even better when he the fragrance of miso and rice wafted over him.

In the kitchen, Taka was putting two bowl of rice and two bowls of miso out onto the table. He looked happy, in a domestic kind of a way. “That looks fantastic,” he breathed.

“Well, get into it.”

Taka sat and waited. Waiting for him, he realized after a good ten seconds. He hurried over, sat, and picked up his chopsticks. “Itadakimasu.” He got into it. When he was done, he felt so much better he became guiltily aware that he’d been a grumpy and ungrateful bastard to someone he’d let down. Okay so he’d been horribly ill and Taka didn’t even know he’d been let down, but that wasn’t the point. So he rose with grand self-pity and headed to the kitchen sink. “Since you cooked, I’ll wash up.”

Taka slurped out something surprised around a mouthful of food. He made his way over to the sink and eyed the pile without pleasure but stifled a sigh and filled the basin with warm water. How much detergent did one put in anyway? He tipped the bottle over and squeezed and gave birth to a mountain of foam. It reminded him of how Lord Izanagi had given birth to the islands of Japan. Then he remembered how pissed off he was at his Lord and started attacking the dishes. He was about a third of the way through when Taka brought his own dishes over and grabbed the spare washer and a few dishes. He eyed his flatmate. “What are you doing? I said I’d do it.”

“It’ll go faster if we both do it together.” Taka sent him a somewhat self-deprecating, self-conscious look, so he responded with a smile. “But this is supposed to thank you for helping me out this morning.”

“No biggie.” Taka turned his attention strictly to his dish. “Isn’t that what flatmates are for?”

He let it slide and returned his attention to the dish in his hand. “…Thanks.”

They worked side by side for a while. Taka seemed so content, working beside him, it made him miserably aware about what value Taka stored on relationships and how little of it he’d had. He tried not to feel too guilty. Okay so he’d screwed up this time, but for the last time. Next chance, he wouldn’t drink and he’d do better.

“My last flatmate thought I was weird for offering to help.”

Fumi’s antennae perked up. There was a note in the man’s voice….

“Any time I suggested going to a beer garden together or catching a movie…he acted like I was a disgusting fag. So I guess I’m glad you suggested hanging out together.”

Horrible guilt well up inside once again. “You needed to see what an asshole the guy was,” he muttered defensively. It wasn’t like he’d made the jerk say all the nasty things he’d said, but he had prodded the man to let rip with what he’d been thinking. The man had been so good looking it would have been disaster. “Wasn’t it better to find out right away instead of getting involved and then slowly getting ripped apart?” He supposed he should have been glad Taka was too lost in unhappy memories to wonder how he knew so much, but he hated seeing the look on the guy’s face.

“I guess,” the man murmured. “But it would have been nicer if he’d just left without saying all the things he’d said.”

Fumi continued washing the dishes in tight-lipped silence. His fault. It had seemed like the thing to do at the time; one sharp, painful lesson instead of watching Taka hang on to hope day after day, but now he realized he could have had the guy marry some girl or get transferred because of work. The result would have been the same, and Taka’s feelings would have been spared. It made him cringe, now. He remembered the time well; he’d been sitting in his steaming onsen with Yasuki cuddled up beside him, giving him a massage, providing him with fresh seafood delicacies, he’d watched Taka struggle with his crush and had been so fond and so exasperated and so utterly thoughtless and stupid. Well, that would change. He was going to find the perfect person for Taka, and the man was going to spend the rest of his life a happy couple, as he deserved.

Of course, all the good intentions in the world counted for squat. There were the concerts, which were too loud and impersonal for talk, the beer garden trips where he steered Taka into conversation with this girl or that guy, only to have the entire afternoon turn into a raucous, drunken party where even if he managed to get someone interested in Taka, the next day’s phone call had Ms Cute or Mr Friendly wondering who the hell Taka was. After two such incidents, the man flatly refused to get anyone’s number at a beer garden and showed a flattering, if frustrating, desire for Fumi’s conversation only. Easing him into conversation with the local check out girl may have worked if only the girl hadn’t shown more interest in Fumi himself, and when he pointed out that since he’d had so much in common with a particular customer at work he should ask for the person’s phone number had Taka shaking his head; one didn’t do that kind of thing at work, a previous part timer had been fired that way. His vague hint to try internet dating had generated such an emphatic response he didn’t dare bring it up a second time.

It didn’t help that he personally didn’t think any of the people he met were good enough for the man. Nice, sure, friendly, sure, well, they could go date other nice, friendly people. Who the hell was special just in the right way to fully appreciate the man? Who had the insight, the sensitivity, the right balance of serious, playful and kinky?

He made himself push his chair back away from his laptop and gave his muscles a stretch. No. Stop waiting for someone perfect. It won’t happen. Concentrate on someone Taka can enjoy. He made himself look again at all the profiles on the local internet dating site. Maybe he couldn’t convince Taka to organize a date that way, but perhaps he could call in a few secret favors to Aizen-Myou – he of all gods would surely have sympathy for him, he could ask the deity to find out where any potentials lived and worked. Even if it would feel weird to actually pray, like a human Then he could arrange some accidental meetings. Meanwhile, there was a festival Taka had brought tickets for that they would attend. A field day of possibilities. There had better be a field day of possibilities. After a month of frustrations, he was starting to worry.

They met at their favourite local ice cream parlour for their usual It’s Friday celebration. When he pushed the door open, he found Taka in their corner, flipping through a music magazine. He paused to criticize Taka’s too-polite, conventional smile as the waitress eased a double chocolate parfait onto the table. He sighed and made his way over. If only Taka wasn’t so…so reserved. He was a good looking, wonderful guy trapped in a nightmare of Social Conventions. It had been hard for him to understand just why Taka wouldn’t chat up strangers; back home, there was no such thing as social façade and things Just Not Done, and the idea of someone nursing a fragile ego in the Heavens was hysterically funny. It wasn’t any fun trying to help a guy who wouldn’t help himself. “Hi.”

Taka looked up, and he was rewarded with a genuine, easy grin. “Hey. Dig in.”

He slid into the seating opposite his housemate and took up one of the spoons. The sprinkling of nuts on his side he scraped over to Taka’s. The man thanked him. “Hey, you like ‘em better than me. How was your day?”

“Usual. Boss being a prick.”

“Oh?”

“Yup. We had a problem with one of our suppliers and…”

Fumi ate and listened as Taka gave a half bitter, half humorous account of his working woes. Indignation on Taka’s behalf burned him when he heard about the boss’s blatantly unfair behaviour. If only I could…just wait until I get back home. When that happened, Taka was going to be boss of the bloody store. No; he was going to be a famous rock star, just like he dreamt of. Of course, Taka had never come right out and said he wanted to be a famous rock star, but years of listening to him practice on his cheap guitar and wading through compositions told it’s own story. And just why didn’t I arrange things years ago? Shame welled up to tighten his throat once more. Because I was too busy being smug and superior and comfortable in my own life to really give a damn about a bunch of mortals that come and go in the blink of an eye millennia after millennia.

He had been interested at first. He’d kept watch over them, arranged romantic events in their lives, gave happiness to the deserving and sent a bit of karma around to those that needed it. He’d felt eager satisfaction when they’d thanked the heavens for their blessings. But a hundred years of it, and then a hundred more years…a hundred more years, five hundred, and then a thousand, and then two thousand…they’d slowly stopped thanking him and he grown so tired of the incessant, repetitive, insignificance of it all.

Only it wasn’t insignificant to them.

“Oi, are you even awake?”

He snapped out of his daze to find icecream dripping down his spoon onto the table and Taka laughing at him. He shoved the spoon into his mouth and licked it clean. “Sorry.” He glanced up and found Taka watching his tongue run up the spoon. The man’s eyes were somnolent. He faltered and hastily covered it by going for more icecream. His heart beat faster, sending currents of heat to his face, rippled in shimmering waves down to his belly, tingling in his groin. Taka was thinking about sex. Right there, at the table. Imagining his cock sliding into a wet, warm mouth and sucking motions. If it had been Yasuki and he was home, he would have run his bare foot up Yasuki’s leg and rubbed the arch over the bulge under the table and be vastly entertained watching his servant struggle not to go crosseyed and slackjawed in front of whoever else was sharing the communal tables. How he wanted to do the same now, for Taka. The temptation to prise of a shoe and….

Taka cleared his throat and went for some icecream. Fumi noticed his hand wasn’t quite steady. He was so turned on he snuck a hand under the table and ground it down hard over the bulge there.

“So, are you still on for the concert?”

“You bet. Can’t wait.” He’d said he’d filled a backpack over breakfast; the man was just trying to cover the fact that his mind was fixated between his legs. He bit down on a naughty smile. Taka was distracted and aching. He smiled blithely. “I’m just about exploding with anticipation.” Any minute now, and…

Taka cleared his throat again and rose from the table. Yup, hard as granite.

“Be back soon.” The man disappeared into the men’s. He grinned. For his sake, he hoped it was empty. He dug into the icecream, smiling. Who was Taka thinking of while he masturbated? For a while, he played with the fantasy of Taka imagining him. It was rather sexy, actually: Taka recognizing who he was on a subconscious level, being drawn to it, lusting after him. He’d hold out a welcoming hand to him, petting his hair. Taka would be awed, submissive…

When Taka rejoined him, he started and sat upright, hastily stuffing the fantasy somewhere into the back of his mind. What was he doing? Taka have the hots for him? Seducing a mortal? Disaster.

“Is there any icecream left?”

He shoved the half-eaten confection Taka’s way. “Here, I saved some.” The rest of the afternoon he spent watching Taka eat and giving himself a silent business lecture.

CHAPTER IV

And don’t forget to keep a lookout. It doesn’t need to be someone perfect, just someone nice and quirky and who Taka can enjoy living with. Fumi hoisted his bag up into the holder above the train seats and slumped down next to his companion in his allotted place. Taka shoved him playfully.

“Quit it, elbow-room hog.”

“You’re the one with his arms everywhere,” Fumi shot back. “This is my space.”

An all-out war ensued until the doors closed and they were under way. Fumi shot a glance over, well pleased. Taka looked happier than he had in months. All right, so he hadn’t found anyone special for him yet, but didn’t it count for something that the man was just generally happier for him being there anyway? All the same, he took a look around. He had a feeling “generally happier” wasn’t going to get him back home. There were two girls sitting together nearby; they looked cute without being too fashionable. He looked further back. Some guy with a backpack. Not bad looking. Going to the festival as well, maybe? He found his eyes sliding past him towards a woman nearby. Maybe a year or two older than Taka, but would that be a bad thing? She might be far more interesting and more comfortable with herself than a twenty two year old who wasn’t ready for settling down. Probably hotter in the sack, too. He smirked. He knew a lot of older ladies that…

“Been to any cool concerts lately?” Taka asked.

He glanced over. Taka had his feet wedged up and was leaning his way. If he wanted to, he could put his arm around the guy’s shoulder. It would be comfy. He hesitated. I’d better not. “Yeah, I saw Buck Tick a few times, Kuroyume, Luna Sea, X Japan, a couple of bigger American bands when they tour here...Metallica, U2, REM.”

“Woah, you’ve been to so many? How close to the front?”

Now, how to answer that? Strictly speaking he’d always been a gazillion miles away in body, he’d watched through his special mirror. “Oh, at the back, mostly.” That seemed the safest bet. “Still heaps of fun, though.”

“Never could afford it,” Taka murmured wistfully.

Fumi stiffened and glared at him but then Taka continued.

“…Still, I often seemed to win tickets a lot,” he mused. “It was amazing, actually, I just seem to have this gift for winning competitions. Did you go to the Papa Roach gig last winter?”

Fumi nodded cautiously. “Yeah, I was there.” Watching you.

“I was so bummed about missing out on tickets, I’d waited in line all day only to get up to the counter and be told the person before me had got the last. I was so mad but then by the purest luck a radio station was having a competition so I rang and won.”

I know. Fumi struggled to hide a smug smile.

“And when I was younger, when I still lived at home, I really, really wanted to go to the X Japan concert only my parents wouldn’t let me go and wouldn’t give me the money to buy tickets. I was so furious, it was my birthday and everything, they said they’d get me something sometime but they never did. And so I was mooching around the back entrance of the concert wondering if I could sneak in, and the band came outside for a smoke and hide called me over and asked me to buy him a pack of smokes from the nearby vending machine. Best fucking moment of my life. They invited me backstage and I got front row.”

I know! Fumi gave himself a congratulatory little pat. See? Romance isn’t everything. I did something for him that he hasn’t forgotten ten years later. Beat that! He realized there was a pause and looked up to find Taka awaiting his awed disbelief with barely-concealed impatience.“…You’re kidding? That’s neat,” he finished hastily.

“Neat?” Taka gazed at him in disbelief. “It was amazing!’”

Fumi grinned and applied himself to oohing and ahhing over every minute detail of the adventure, which Taka subsequently unfolded to him. He almost caught himself correcting his companion’s inaccuracies, but he stopped himself just in time. So what if hide had been wearing a green shirt, not blue? hide’s kindness to some kid was remembered well. That’s what he’d always liked about hide. The man hadn’t believed in him enough to thank him for his nudges along the way to his path to success, but fame hadn’t destroyed his easy-going good nature and willingness to take time out to show a little amused generosity to the kids. He made a sour face. Come to think of it, how come he got chewed out for failing to provide his charges with romantic entanglements at an early age whereas it was perfectly all right for Haya-Ji sama to kill off a talented, charming man through tragic accident? Hello? Hypocritical?

He agreed and murmured appropriately and watched as the man’s voice faded into desultory words as his eyes succumbed to the lull of the train. On impulse, he reached over to lift the man’s hair off his face and smoothed it back. I made you happy, didn’t I? Didn’t I give you stuff you really wanted, like those tickets and meeting hide and that guitar for way cheaper than you’d hoped for?

How inadequate it all seemed, suddenly. He wanted to do more. Taka should be famous by now, in his own band, not in the dead-end job he had now. He’d have some wonderful girl or guy by his side. Fumi cursed. And it all would have been so much easier if he was back home. It could have all been done already. Instead he was reduced to fucking around absolutely clueless. He tucked a few escapee strands of hair back behind Taka’s ears and tightened the lid on his green tea to prevent spillage. I’ll do it for you, somehow.

Trying out a festival as a human made him realize how good he’d had it as a god. His previous experience had involved lapping up the luxury of his onsen, using his mirror to get a front-row view. This was reality. For starters, the venue wasn’t as nearly as easy to find as the official information blithely implied. Two wrong buses later, they’d eventually stumbled on it by accident to find it already crowded. The good part was that they were on a hill; they could see the band in the distance while seated. The bad part was that he had no seat. Most of the crowd around him were lolling on portable stools. Plus it was as hot as hell. He spent the next five hours cursing his lack of a hat and chair. Sitting on the ground gave him a splendid view of ten backsides. Taka, smarter than him, was sufficiently sun-protected and had a small esky to sit on. With beer in one hand and a camera in the other, he was having the time of his life, in his quiet way. Fumi sighed, picked up another bottle of green tea and ran it over his head and neck, letting condensation run down his temples and the back of his t-shirt. He looked around. There was a break as the crowd waited for the last band for the evening to make the stage. Throughout the day, the crowd had shifted and changed depending on the band up. There had been mostly men up until now, but thankfully they had pushed further up front. The girls left behind seemed too young, too giggly, too silly. He looked around in despair. Not even one decent one?

But then he noticed the girl hiding under the shade the lone, small bush nearby. A potential? He scoped her out and sucked in a breath of surprise and glee. She was one of his! Was one of his. Perfect, he’d set them both up together and present not one but two mortals in love and let the penitence from above wash over him as he held up a forestalling, forgiving hand and skipped back to his rooms, triumphant. The girl was pretty, but not too much so. Not ultra-fashionable, but well dressed, feminine. She had a brain, valued her work, valued her leisure...they were a decent match, come to think of it. She’d had a few steady boyfriends in the past, Fumi had respected her too much to throw much negative interference her way, and had let her go her placid way through college and onwards to nursing without many life hiccups. Funny, how he hadn’t thought to set them up together. He had liked her, but something had stopped him scooping them both towards each other. Well, he’d do it now. Taka would go for her, right? How could he get them talking? Well, music, right? But how to start it off that wouldn’t make Taka suspicious?

He’d seen it all during his existence; all the fumbling fuck-ups, the corny lines, the excruciatingly embarrassing ‘accidental’ meetings, the rambling, transparently fake stories, hell, he’d seen pick-up strategies more intricately planned, detailed and executed than your average world war. In the end, he chose the method he’d found the most successful amongst humans. He sidled over and crouched beside her.

“Hi. It’s hot and I have no hat. Do you mind if we share the shade?”

She was agreeable. And she was nice about it. And not even the I don’t really want to but I feel I must politeness, it was the real thing. While Taka was temporarily oblivious, he followed this promising start up with a bit of small talk, with a few references to his girlfriend ‘back home’ thrown in. She was duly sympathetic to him, but had no similar story to share with him. He glanced at her hands. No rings on her left hand, as he’d expected. Whomever had taken his place as her Guide hadn’t gone the shotgun wedding route. Excellent, excellent.

Fumi kept an eye open on Taka’s activities as he chatted with the girl. He knew Taka was aware of them, the man flicked them the occasional glance, so why the hell wasn’t he joining them? Come on, idiot! Join in! It wasn’t like Taka loved the band that was playing, either. Wasn’t he getting bored or lonely? The more he talked with the girl, the more exasperated he got. Every time he threw out a subtle opening for Taka, the man would answer briefly and go back to watching the band. MORON! By the time the band left the stage and the night was over, he was imagining his hands squeezing Taka’s neck.

Then came time to pack up, and move out. His heart sank as the girl’s cell phone rang and announced the imminent arrival of a group of friends, judging from her side of the conversation. There was nothing he could do as she thanked him prettily for keeping her company and moved off but watch her go and curse. The moment she was gone, Taka infuriated him by drifting over to his side. He received a friendly elbow nudge.

“So, how did it go? Did you score?”

Fumi stared at his charge for one long, stupefied moment. Did I…? A thousand and one bolts of emotion crashed through him. A thousand and one choice comments struggled for dominance on his lips. “…No,” he finally managed.

The man clapped his hand down on his shoulder. “Too bad,” he sympathised cheerfully. “I was cheering for ya.”

Exasperating didn’t even begin to cut it. And the worst thing was he couldn’t scream No you idiot, it was for you! as he was dying to. All he could do was swallow down his frustration and force up a smile. “Let’s eat, I’m starved.”

The found a quiet little tonkatsu restaurant. Fumi didn’t protest when Taka shoved his rump into the most secluded area away from the other patrons, he was too discouraged. No matter what the talent, Taka would just ignore the chance. Instead, they talked over the festival, re-visited previous festivals, discussed music and moods. He enjoyed the dinner a lot. He always saw Taka at his best; if only others could see how smart he was, how opinionated he could be. If only others could her his self-mocking funny anecdotes and his ideas. If only others could see the way his face shone with enthusiasm over stuff. If only others knew how one could come home to find dinner cooking, or come out of the shower to find the washing already done even though it was one’s own turn. If only others knew how he could make one feel like the most special person on earth because he paid attention to whatever you said.

And I wish it could always be like this. I wish I could just be having fun with him without having this stupid task hanging over my head. Actually, he was really going to miss Taka when he was back home. Idiot, I can still look after him, watch over him. But it wouldn’t be quite the same. The intimacy, the sharing would be gone.

“You look serious.”

Fumi ripped out of his introspection and shook his head on a laugh. “Contemplating icecream. Up for it?”

“Stupid question.”

Somehow, sharing a Chocolate Fudge Raspberry Ripple parfait made Fumi think about sex. Well, more than usual. Well, more directed, focused than usual, anyway. Maybe it was the way the thick, rich raspberry sauce and the fudge sauce dripped over the chocolate icecream, or the way Taka savored every mouthful, or maybe it was because they were close together, secluded away from all eyes, but he hadn’t got laid for over a month, now. Neither had Taka. Perhaps he should manoeuvre Taka around into booking them both with Taka’s favorite dominatrix. Maybe even at the same time? Delicious. And it probably wasn’t a good idea to fantasize about them together in a glorious tussle amongst blankets and pillows back home, but he figured as long as it remained a fantasy it couldn’t do any harm. And if he happened to indulge in a little self-consolation while Taka slept nearby, the man would never know.

By the time they were out of the restaurant and walking to the train station he was pleasantly full, pleasantly tired and in a very amorous mood. Thus he had zero objections to Taka’s casual arm around his shoulders. It felt comfortable, the night was warm and the faint fragrance of incense was in the air. The idea of snuggling up on the couch for a late-night movie was looking damned fine.

“Hey fags!’”

Fumi’s head shot up and he took in three young men by a car as Taka’s arm whipped away. Self-consciously American wannabes, so cool, so baddass, so ridiculous. The two towards the back moved up off the hood of the car in response to a practiced thumb-jerk from the one in front that made Fumi snigger. When the guy hooked his collar up and sauntered over dripping leader of the pack he couldn’t help laughing.

“Wasso funny, fag?”

The guy was struggling to be hard and cool. He could have told the guy that after millennia of similar youths it was just too pathetic. He could read the fear in him like a book. Fear of looking foolish, fear of losing his position amongst his ‘friends’. The need to prove himself. Did he think he was original? He bared his teeth. “You are.”

The kid must have been practicing a long time; his derisive hoot was almost convincing. He could feel the tension in Taka’s body, the man’s taut silence. He always had cared a little too much for what other people thought of him.

“Oooooh,” the boy jeered, “Look, the fag thinks he’s a tough guy.”

Fumi rolled his eyes and decked him. He heard Taka gasp in shock as the boy’s head snapped back and he crumpled to the ground on a startled gurgle of noise. He smirked.

“Bastard!” The other two rushed him. Unlike every human movie he’d ever watched, they were smart enough to do it together. Which was nice, as they were there to support each other when they crumpled to the cement. Fumijin lowered his leg, took a step back and very carefully straightened his hat. He turned to Taka, whose gaze was transfixed on the fallen. The man ripped his gaze away to stare at him.

“What?” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Don’t tell me you found those idiots in any way intimidating?”

Taka just stared at him for a moment longer. “How could I, when you’re so much more so?”

How pleasing. Fumi shifted back to the man’s side, wrapped the man’s arm back to it’s previous location, and made sure to step over the bodies as they continued on their way. “Ahhh! Great day, great dinner, great fight, great company, what more can a go…guy ask for?”

Taka’s head turned around to take one last look at those they’d left behind. “…they’re still out cold,” he reported. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Why not?”

“Well…” Taka hesitated, then laughed. “It was great.”

Fumi chuckled. “You should try it sometime.”

There was a silence as they reached the train station and found a vacant seat a little apart from the rest of the crowd.

“…I would have been too scared of failing,” Taka finally admitted.

“Which is why you fail,” Fumi scolded gently. “That lot are all bravado; get ‘em before they get you and you’re laughing. And who cares what they think anyway?” he groused. “They’re just meaningless no-hope punks.”

The man shoved his hands into his pockets. “…I can’t fight like you obviously can.”

“Then let me teach you.” Fumi snorted. “The kind who want to fight you are usually beginners, anyway, trust me. This lot didn’t even know how, they just relied on us being so scared of them because they called us fags, boo hoo.”

The gleam in Taka’s eyes as they rested on his face made something warm and mushy settle over his entire middle. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was lost as the train pulled up. He restrained a curse and followed his companion into the train and to the remotest corner away from the other commuters. They settled down on the seats together. Fumi sighed as the doors closed and the train slowly pulled out back to Tokyo. It took about ten minutes for Taka’s eyes to slid shut and his body sag against his. An hour in limbo, with nothing to do but enjoy the warmth and weight of his charge’s body against his. And enjoy it he did. He wrapped his arm around his charge and settled down comfortably. The man smelt like beer, sunshine, with just enough of his own scent to attract and not repel. In this limbo hour, he felt almost content to be where he was. Who would have thought it?

By the time they reached Tokyo station, Taka was snoring gently. He unhooked his arm and leaned down. “Taka,” he murmured.

No response.

“Taka?” He tried again, louder. “Taka?”

Nothing.

He gave the man a brisk shake, which generated a pained yet forgiving mumble and nothing more.

“Taka!”

It took shaking of a seven on the Richter scale for him to be eased out of the train seat and he didn’t even bother trying to get the man to carry his share of the luggage, he slung both bags onto his shoulders and half supported, half dragged his sleepy swain onto the platform and onto the seats at the smaller platform where they waited for their connecting local train. He glanced in exasperated amusement at the brunette, who was once more comfortably settled with his head resting on Fumi’s shoulder. A fresh breeze wafted past them and he didn’t even mind that they’d just missed the last train and had a fifteen minute wait. He stared out at the stars. Out there in the other dimension, his bretheren went about their usual lives without him. Strange how time lessened that pain. Oh, he still wanted back, but he was enjoying the present company too much to really ache for an immediate return. In fact, he would have been somewhat sorry to be invited back to the Fold that very night. A good six months as a mortal, excellent company, the knowledge of doing the right thing by Taka under his belt, and he’d think the whole thing an excellent adventure, rather than the miserable curse he’d expected it to be. He’d even recommend the experience to his cronies back home.

The train arrived in due course, and they made it back just in time to prevent Fumi’s spine collapsing. He staggered in to the apartment, prised off his shoes and wrestled with Taka’s, dumped the inanimate luggage onto Taka’s futon since it was nearest, and shoved their backpacks into a corner. Taka raised one sleepy eye and smiled a little smugly at him before drifting away again.

“Bastard.”

But he said it without heat. When he was sure the man really was off with the fairies, he leaned down and planted a kiss on the man’s forehead. “Bless you.”

And how many people could really do that? He gave his own little smug smile and wandered off for the bathroom, well pleased.

CHAPTER IV

Fumi wandered into the CD store, stifling a yawn. Taka was at the counter, evidently halfway through processing two teenage girls’ orders. Once the girls were gone, the coast was clear for a few precious moments. He sauntered up and hoisted his rump up onto the counter. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Taka leaned back against the wall and offered a tired grin. “How was work?”

Fumi shrugged. “Busy.” He’d cleared forty levels of Blaster – not bad for a first try. “I, um, got a lot done.”

He’d got nothing done. Not even a glimmering of a possibility of a chance. But so what? There was still three months to go. A guy could have one day off, right?

He could almost feel the heavy disapproval of Lord Izanagi weighing his shoulders down. Okay, so he’d done fuck all over the past two weeks. Fuck all! And I don’t care!

He was uncomfortably aware that he’d care a fair bit at the end of the six months, but somehow it still seemed so far away. “The office is pretty busy, I uh, flipped through a lot of manuscripts, weeding out the hopefuls that stood a chance. Not bad, just, uh, tiring.”

Taka stared at his nails. “Heard when the lady you’re temping for is coming back?”

Fumi started. “oh, um…no. Not yet.”

The man’s shoulders seemed to sink a little and he prised himself back off the wall. “Well, I’m going to clo…”

The door opened.

A man walked into the store. A tall man, handsome, with shaggy, healthy black hair, a straight, refined nose, defined cheekbones, a kind of raw masculinity that oozed cool. He had a ‘just-come-from-training-and-a-shower’ glow and was wearing soccer gear. He approached the counter with a fit and healthy saunter. Fumi stiffened. He half expected the guy to move in a movie hero’s slow motion. He dropped down from the counter and slunk back to the shadows, watching. The man acknowledged his presence with a blithe nod. He bared his teeth. The man didn’t notice, he had already turned his attention to Taka. Fumi whipped his gaze to catch Taka staring at the guy, he looked both attracted and intimidated.

“I believe that The Killers have a new DVD coming out today. Do you have any left?”

Fumi groaned. Taka’s favourite band. Taka stared for a second longer, than gave himself a quick shake and managed a nervous grin. “Yeah, we might have one left…I’ll just, uh, have a look.”

Fumi smile sourly. There was only one copy in the entire store, and Taka had been hording that jealously for his own use. But he was going to give it to him.

He was addressed by Mr Adonis. “Do you work here, too?”

“Nope. I’m his…” he wanted to say lover, but ten to one it’d get back to Taka and that would just be damned embarrassing. How could he ever explain? “…flatmate. And best bud,” he tacked on. And his God, mortal.

“Oh, right.” Mr Adonis turned back to the counter to peruse the advertising paraphernalia on offer. When Taka came back with the precious item, the man smiled. “Great!”

“Did you know they’re touring in September?” Taka asked.

Fumi rolled his eyes.

“No?” Adonis leaned on the counter. “Nothing on their website…”

“Just got the news this morning. Bit of a secret still, they’re looking to play the Budoukan.”

Fumi managed a fond smile to himself. Taka was eager, delighted to be able to share the news with a like fan, and probably a bit smugly pleased to be an obvious insider to this guy. Taka was so delightfully human in that respect. He paused. Come to think of it, wanting to show off wasn’t exactly restricted to humankind.

Oh, who am I kidding? We’re shameless.

“Really? When are tickets going on sale, do you know?”

“Two weeks Monday. News goes up on the website in a week.”

The Adonis leaned forward on the counter. “Fantastic. I’ve got a friend who works for Flip Side who’s reserved good tickets for me in the past…” Then he grinned engagingly. Fumi winced. “Hey, since you were nice enough to give me the info, how about I reserve you a good ticket, too?”

All right that’s it. He jumped off the counter and took a step forward before catching Taka’s expression. The guy was happy. Excited. Everything that he was supposed to be producing in the guy. This was the whole reason he was here, this was The Big One.

Only it wasn’t him giving Taka happiness. He’d had nothing to do with it. Would that be counted as failure? It sure felt like it.

“Really?” Taka flushed, hesitated, grinned, wiped the grin away and attempted to look cool. “I mean, are you sure? I mean, great!”

“Of course. Least I can do.” The man dipped his head in a cool bow. “Hidaka.”

Taka nodded. “Tsukino.” He paused. “A Taipans fan?”

Fumi ground his teeth. Now the guy put all his little hints and suggestions on social chat to use.

The man flipped his soccer ball from one arm to the other. Fumi wished passionately he had been allowed to retain his telekinesis. “Yeah. Had a knockout season.”

“See last night’s game?”

“Are you kidding? Fourth row back. Bird’s eye view of Ando’s winning goal.”

“Second row,” Taka returned smugly. “Got to keep the ball - with an autograph.”

“No way!”

“Cousin’s sister’s boyfriend. Met him once or twice.”

“No way! I want photographic evidence of that!”

Fumi heaved a disgruntled sniff. “I can vouch for it.” Just who the hell do you think set up that meeting? The soccer fairy?

“Y’know, if you’re finished up for the day, I’m heading out to the field for a game. You’re welcome to come join us.” The man started and remembered his existence. “You’re more than welcome too.”

Fucking great. The man’s a Nice Guy.

That familiar, infuriating expression of I’m not good enough on Taka’s face dragged back the joy. “Uh, well…I’m not really dressed for it…”

Fumi snorted. The guy was scared of looking incompetent. Oh Taka, you great idiot. He felt an overwhelming desire to shake the guy and squeeze him tight until he laughed and apologized.

The guy seemed to recognize the true problem, damn him. “Oh hey, it’s no problem, just a friendly kick around and a barbeque and beer afterwards, it’s really relaxed.”

“Great!” Taka turned to him, so nonchalant. “Up for it?”

The left side of Fumi’s lips turned up. “Oh, I’m so down with that.” He didn’t sound too sarcastic. He was proud of that.

And so he found himself trailing the pair as Taka closed up for the afternoon. They hit the warm summer breeze as they turned left towards the train station. For a second he though he could scent something familiar in the air, but it was gone before he could pinpoint it. He contented himself with following the two soccer fanatics.

Somehow, he’d make it work for him. Maybe he hadn’t found the guy, but wasn’t it the same thing if he fostered it? Made it grow? Lord Izanagi hadn’t stipulated that he had to have found the guy from scratch, only that Taka being in a happy, monogamous relationship by the end of the six months.

Of course, I’ll have to check that the guy isn’t a crook or a cheat.

And I’ll have to make sure he isn’t a cheating jerk.

And maybe soccer and The Killers is all they have in common. Maybe he’s a snotty bastard who is all about nightclubs and brand names and being seen at the right places. Maybe he wouldn’t laugh at Comedy Central Osaka. Maybe he doesn’t have an artistic bone in his body. And Taka absolutely has to have someone who can share a chocolate fudge raspberry ripple sundae with him at Wendy’s.

This guy, share a chocolate fudge raspberry ripple sundae at Wendy’s? I think not.

But he held his peace and contented himself with adding his two cents worth in when asked for it, gratifyingly often by Taka. At least his existence was still remembered. He spent the rest of the travel time convincing himself that contrary to his own preferences, Taka didn’t need or want someone absolutely perfect, it was possible for him to like Taka’s future lifemate, and that he himself would be much happier back home. And Taka deserved happiness. He deserved it so bad. Thus he was absolutely determined to push the two together. He held back, he held his peace, at any random comment from the Adonis, he pointed out ways in which Taka had some kind of knowledge or skill in that area. By the time they reached the designated park area, he was grimly satisfied with his martyrdom. It was better than nothing.

About seven of Kurosaki’s friends were already out on the field, kicking a ball around, while three girls were taking on the traditional roll of preparing the food, laying out bread rolls, roasting sausages, setting out salad around the barbeque area. They were introduced to Miki, Maki and Mika. There were fashionable, giggly and brainless. Mickey, Minnie and Goofy, fucking great. If only they’d been even better potentials than Mr Soccer champ. However, they were inoffensive and they prepared food nicely, so he made nice.

“Come on, let’s get out there!”

He found his arm tugged and he staggered out onto the field in Taka’s wake. “Er…Amano san, go blue, we’ll go red!” Hidaka called. The Adonis turned to his friends. “Blue team?” About four guys waved desultory hands and he hid a sigh as he jogged over to them. What did he know about playing soccer? He was all about martial arts and long, rambling walks. Soccer had, like, skills and stuff, right? And non-competitive? Shyeah, right.

After the obligatory self-introductions and friendly small-talk, the game started in earnest. As he suspected, soccer involved a lot of foot skill that he lacked. Thankfully, his team mates made up for his lack and he was sufficiently fit to take up the roll of mid-fielder; kicking the ball to a more skilled player or just in the general direction of the goal. Taka was having the time of his life: Pasting on a sporty, cool expression, acting like his better shots were no big deal, accepting back slapping with a deprecatory shrug when he scored a goal. Taka was much better at it than he was, and he’d be damned if he’d look stupid. He concentrated on his own play for a while. It didn’t take too long to get the hang of it all; he even set up a rather splendid manoeuvre that enabled his team’s best player to shoot a goal. The other guys made a big fuss of the goal scorer, but Taka grinned at him and gave him a big thumbs up. He stifled down a big grin and mimicked the man’s deprecatory shrug.

When another friend turned up late, Fumi took the opportunity to bail out and let the other guy in. He grabbed a beer and a hamburger and enjoyed himself watching Taka be cool. Of course, he also had to watch Hidaka back-slap Taka, laugh with him, compliment him on a neat move. But this was GOOD. It was the way things were supposed to be happening. He sighed.

“Don’t they look sweet together?”

Fumi jumped, gasped and whipped his head around to find Mika standing over him, shielding the sun from his eyes. Or was it Miki? Or Maki? It didn’t matter. For a moment, he’d have sworn her voice was deeper, more sensual, more…familiar. He made a desultory sound of assent and a nice smile, and she offered him another hamburger with the works. He accepted gracefully. There was the usual round of introductions, small talk, and then…

“Are you seeing anyone?”

He cleared his throat and gave his standard girl-back-home shtick. Her mostly-hidden disappointment was gratifying, even if she wasn’t his type, so he threw in a few compliments and prophesies of imminent coupledom heading her way before she knew it as he ate that appeared to console her. Maybe a bit silly and fashion conscious, but she’d shown the glimmering of a brain in there. Give her a few years and a few good mentors and she could be worth something. Once he got back, he’d have to find out who looked after her and make sure she headed the right way. After a bit more small talk, she drifted back to deal with potato salad.

“You haven’t answered yet, my dear.”

He started and gasped at the voice near his ear. The scent he’d almost caught on the street caressed him, he whipped his head around to find midnight robes that sparkled with a thousand stars fluttering out from behind the tree he sat under. A familiar figure glided out from the shadows, his long, raven hair whipping in the breeze, white arms sweeping in elegant moves as he manipulated a intricate red fan, eyes flashing, and seemed to float down beside him, the folds of his robe rippling into place. As a fellow god, His aura had been magnetic, awe-inspiring, as a mortal he was stunned, overwhelmed, crippled with lust. “Lord Tsuki Yomi!” he gasped. He battled a burning need to climb onto the lord’s lap. That was the human in him, but the god he was knew it for what it was. He settled for shifting closer.

“Why so surprised, Fumijin kun?” A delicate black brow rose. “Surely you didn’t think for a moment I would fail to watch over you throughout the nights?”

Fumi mumbled a curse when his face turned red. “I…I um…” Sure, he’d expected an odd glance or two, hoped for regular checks (not from Izanagi, of course, but from his own friends) but this sounded more. More special, more intimate. Tsuki Yomi chucked under his chin on an indulgent smile.

“How could you doubt it?”

Fumi ducked his head down to hide his foolish grin.

“And surely you can guess who has watched over you during the days, as I rest? Yasuki sends his deepest love, and asked me to tell you that he is keeping your quarters in perfect condition in readiness for your imminent return, and that he misses you madly.”

He felt it safe to grin openly. “I’m sure he’s finding consolation with Jouta.”

Tsuki Yomi fluttered his fan in front of his face in true Court fashion. Fumi eyed him. “I know that signal…What?”

The God’s lips turned up. He admired their sensual curve. “I’m afraid there’s been a rather sensational scandal floating around the Halls.”

He perked. Okay, so he loved scandal. So? He waited patiently for the god to continue, and was presently rewarded.

“…It appears that Jouta has been rather busy elsewhere.”

Fumi’s mind worked overtime. He grinned. “…No way.”

Tsuki Yomi’s fan dipped and swirled. “Yes, it seems that our Beloved Shin-Kou-Ka was caught in flagrante with Jouta in the stables. Lord Izanagi was forced to strip Shin-Kou-Ka of his role as Virgin of the Light. Contrary to various bets, it appears our former virgin is not repining. The World Well Lost for Love. Or so it seems.”

“Yes!” He brought a fist down to his middle. He didn’t bother to hide his glee. “I knew it! I knew it! He was always so holier than thou…Oh crap, I missed it all!” He chortled over the story for a while, then turned pensive. “In that case, Yasuki must be lonely.”

The fan fluttered again. He read the nuance there and sucked in a breath. Surely…had he read it wrong? Was he reading too much into it..? “…Or maybe not.”

The fan fluttered. “He’s such a lovely boy,” the God of Night murmured. “And you did tell me to watch over him.”

“That I did,” Fumi replied. He frowned, smiled, laughed, and shook his head. “I guess I should thank you for…er…going the extra mile, and I’m glad he hasn’t been lonely.…do I get him back when I return?”

The fan dipped down to touch his lips. “I’m asking for your blessing, Fumijin kun.”

He started. “My blessing?” “You really want to keep him for good?”

Tsuki Yomi nodded.

He wanted to ask Do you love him? But he didn’t have the nerve. “I’m very fond of Yasuki,” he eventually hedged. “I want him to be happy, that’s all.”

There was a pause. “I’ll do my best,” came the reply.

The sincerity in the reply surprised him into acquiescence. The idea of this God falling in love seemed so unbelievable it stunned him, but he couldn’t doubt the sincerity. Furthermore, Yasuki wasn’t stupid or naive, and if this was what he wanted, what they both wanted, who was he to say no? He’d just wait and be there to comfort his former servant if necessary.

Ha. He comfort Yasuki? Who am I kidding? “…I’ll miss him.”

“I’m hardly sending him off to work in the salt mines, my dear. You will see him almost every day.”

He picked at the grass. “It won’t be the same. I…I…” was looking forward to him being there when I go home again. Someone had to be there for him to lean on. He was going to need someone there to rest against and hold him tight and not even think about telling anyone else if he…well, got a little bit depressed. Just for a while, until he got used to…things.

Tuski Yomi’s fan went up to cover those curving lips, but Fumi didn’t notice, his attention strayed back to Taka. The man was still running around, happy, content. He was just in time to watch the man score a goal and get hugged by his team mates. Hidaka included. He glared at the guy, realized what he was doing, and forced himself to feel pleased. Didn’t work. He made it to neutral. “I guess…maybe I’ll be back soon.”

The smile under the fan grew broader. “Possibly. You haven’t answered my question yet, you know. Don’t they look sweet together?”

“No!” Fumi bit back a snarl, sucked in a deep breath, and let it out. Slowly. “…The guy seems…suitable,” he jerked out. “I’m sure Taka could be…happy with him.”

This had Tsuki Yomi chuckling. “Then you approve my taste?”

He shot the God a stare. “You sent the guy along?”

“Of course.”

“And does Lord Izanagi know?”

“Of course not.”

“Why?”

The fan dropped to the God’s lap, allowing him full access to the man’s sinful smile. “Isn’t it obvious, my sweet? I wish to help you.”

“Thanks,” he muttered sourly.

Tsuki Yomi’s smile broadened into a full grin. “Your welcome.”

He missed the grin and its implications. “…Do you know how Lord Izanami is…er, feeling about my efforts here?”

Tsuki Yomi gave his graceful shrug. “He sees that you’ve been trying hard. Until recently.”

“…Will it be enough?”

“Doubtful.”

He stiffened. “Oh, come on! How can He expect me to win over a guy who doesn’t even want to play ball? You’ve seen how he keeps shooting down all my suggestions and the potentials I set up.”

“I have,” Tsukiyomi concurred.

“Well then,” he grumbled. “I don’t think he even wants a partner.”

The God batted him on the shoulder with his fan. “Oh, he does.”

“Then why the blazes does he keep screwing up his opportunities?” he growled.

That long, slow grin slid up onto the god’s face. “I wonder.”

But Fumi’s attention was now on Taka, who jogged up to them, sat on his haunches at his feet and gave him a grin. “Hey, why don’t you come back out and join us?”

He stole a glance out of the corner of his eye. Tsuki Yomi was still there, smiling at the oblivious Taka. He turned back to the man with a smile and shrug. “Just ate.”

Taka’s disappointment was quickly hidden. “Oh well, I guess you’re right, I’m starving. Save me a spot!” The man’s quick explanation to the rest of the players seemed the signal for all to stop and head for the barbeque. The way each person drifted over with their food to surround him and Tsukiyomi, when there were other shady trees closer to the picnic area, had him smiling. “Even they can sense you,” he murmured quietly.

This had Tsuki Yomi laughing. “It’s you, Fumijin kun. They have no idea that I’m here.”

“But they can sense you,” Fumi insisted. To his pleasure, Taka made an effort to weave his way over to him, and sit next to him, almost in Tsuki Yomi’s lap. If the man had leaned back he would have been resting against Tsuki Yomi’s chest. The quiet bliss was muted when Hidaka came over and sat next to Taka, but the point was Taka had wanted to sit next to him. Tsuki Yomi was gazing at each in turn with a certain appreciative interest.

“The man’s a good soccer player, into the same bands your Taka likes, he has a good heart and is loyal and generous,” Tsukiyomi pronounced, only the slightest quiver in his lips visible. “What more could you ask for?”

What, indeed? He stifled the discontent down in his belly and managed a shrug. He could hardly answer with around twenty people thinking he was crazy.

“They can’t hear you when you talk to me, Fumijin kun,” the God prodded. “I’ll see to that.”

“Ah.”

Taka nudged him. “Is this okay, Fumi kun? I know sports isn’t your kind of thing, and I kind of bulldozed you into coming along…”

He reigned in a fatuous grin. “It’s fine, Taka kun. It’s actually more fun than I was expecting.”

“Social stuff often is,” Taka mused. “Sometimes you go thinking it’s going to suck and there’ll be no one to talk to, and then you wind up having a blast.”

He snorted. “Of course, sometimes it just sucks.”

This drew a laugh. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“I hope you don’t refer to any party of mine, Fumijin kun,” Tsuki Yomi interjected.

“Of course not,” Fumijin whispered. Music, dancing, food and alcohol under a color moon, sometimes red, sometimes green, sometimes blue, it always matched the theme. Elegant, graceful and wild. Miss one of His parties? No fear.

It would be nice to be able to take Taka to one of Tsuki Yomi’s parties. The man would love it, once he got over any paralysing shyness. Yasuki kun would drag him into the thick of things, Jouta kun would joke, Shin-Kou-Ka sama would toss in some ascerbic comments, and they’d take a boat out onto the lake and wind up soaked in record time. Good food, better drinking, best company. The vision made him ache for its fulfilment.

…Could I?

He snorted sourly. What, ask Izanagi to let him go back, having failed his mission, with Taka in tow to boot? Yeah, that’d work. Fumijin picked at the grass as Taka ate his burger, oblivious and apparently content. Then Hidaka drew Taka away from him into conversation in such a manner that would have made him seem rude to interrupt. He bit back a sigh and let it be. This was the way it was supposed to be; Taka happy and with the mate of his dreams. Which was Hidaka.

CHAPTER V

Well, there just didn’t seem much point to anything anymore. Fumijin went through the motions, going to “work”, networking, finding possible places to go to meet people, but his heart, never really in it in the first place, had packed bags and left for Tahiti. Why bother? He spent most of his time with Playstation and some good books. When he arrived home to find a post-it note indicating that Taka was at present out with Hidaka for the third time that week, he simply wondered why he wasn’t standing before Lord Izanagi, reinstated, triumphant, the “winner”.

He rummaged in the fridge, fixed a snack, slumped onto the sofa, and spent a few hours staring with glazed eyes at tv dramas and drowning in self pity. Just why wasn’t he back, anyway? Taka was with Hidaka, he’d dutifully pushed the man to go out with the Adonis, he seemed content, wasn’t that the deal? Was he supposed to linger for the whole six months, forced to watch Taka’s happiness from the sidelines as some kind of final divine so there?

He stabbed at buttons and finally threw the remote away in disgust. He slumped down onto the sofa, stared up at the ceiling and stuffed prawn snacks in his mouth. Maybe this had been Izanami’s plan the whole time. Yeah, send Fumijin down to Earth to ‘teach him a lesson’ and then royally screw him over by making him…making him…feel confused about stuff and then not let him come back for the whole six months to marinate the misery. “This whole thing is just fucking retarded,” he muttered.

“Shall I tell Lord Izanagi so?” came a sweet voice.

Fumi twisted his neck to behold his kitchen, never overly blessed by sunlight a t the best of times, seeped in midnight. Folds of robes fluttered from the center of darkness and Tsuki Yomi glided out and towards him, silver eyes flashing, black hair wafting gently in his own breeze. He felt his own crumpled clothing and lack of godly grace keenly and eyed him without favour. “Here again?” A bolt of sickness smacked him dead centre and he sat up, his heart in his throat. “…You’ve come to take me back?”

“No, sadly no, dearest.” Tsuki Yomi glided forward and twitched the packet of prawn snacks from his nerveless hands. “What under the starry heavens is this?” Tsuki Yomi glanced at him. “Food, from the state of your mouth.” The God calmly helped himself, chewed, swallowed, and held the packet up for inspection. “What foods these mortals eat.”

“Yeah, very.” Fumi held out his hands. “Now give it back.”

The God of Night did not oblige. “Buy another packet. I want to examine these more closely once I reach my quarters.”

He made a rude noise. “They’re fucking great and you know it.” He paused for a minute. “And yeah, you can tell Izanagi that this is retarded. I don’t care. I want you to.”

The sensual lips curved up. “All the same, I think I won’t. He might not take it in the spirit it was meant.”

Fumi stared at him. “Excuse me? I should bloody well hope he would.”

“But Fumijin dearest, I do so want you to come home. Antagonizing our Lord might not be the best way to achieve this aim.”

He stared at his fingernails and said nothing.

Tsukiyomi glided forward to run his hand through his hair. He lifted a lid to stare up at the God’s face.

“You do want to come home, don’t you?”

He stared at his nails again. “…I guess,” he finally mumbled. “I mean, sure I do…”

But not without Taka.

He smashed the thought down as soon as it popped up, but the damage was done. Pain welled in his heart like a burst dam. Not without Taka! I can’t go back without Taka! “But why aren’t I back home?” he burst out. “It’s done, isn’t it? He’s all lovey-dovey with that Hidaka bastard, isn’t he? I should be back home.” No, he was dying to get back home. He wanted to be back in his familiar room, at his familiar desk with his writing brush in hand, over a scroll, letting loose with rage and anger and hurt and loss once again. He managed a pained smile. To think he’d once thought he’d understood it.

“I wonder,” Tsuki Yomi replied calmly.

He squirmed on the sofa. “…Is this some kind of punishment?” he choked out.

Tsukiyomi glided over to sit next to him on the sofa. He lifted Fumijin’s legs, placed them over his lap, and gave them a gentle pat. “No. Is it so very dreadful, being human? I thought you were rather enjoying it; once you’d become used to having a mortal’s body.”

“I was. I was! Until I…until…” He rubbed the tension out of his forehead with the ball of his hand. “I just want to go home.”

“Be patient,” Tsukiyomi advised. “We all want you home.”

He shrugged, then looked more directly at his superior. “How is everyone, anyway? Yasuki kun?”

“Always arguing on your behalf,” Tsukiyomi quirked a smile. “To the wrong person, of course, he’d be better off directing his ire to Lord Izanami. However when I pointed this out to him…”

Fumi snorted. “He developed a sudden attack of meek, downtrodden slavery.”

There was a heartbeat pause. “…Quite.”

“Probably even started cleaning up the plates and straightening up cushions.”

“Yes.”

He cracked out a laugh that ended choked. “I miss him. Aizen-Myou? Benten sama?”

“Well, and send you their love.”

“Shin-Kou-Ka?”

“Settling into his new life well. Amaratsu is too fond of him to let him go entirely; he now spends hours of his day tending to her pets. He enjoys it, and the animals do too. I believe Jouta enjoys helping his lord groom, feed and exercise the menagerie, though Yasuki kun tells me he’s getting tired of flinging kittens and puppies off his beloved to get to him.”

“That I can believe.” Fumin sighed and enjoyed a momentary silence. All was dark except for the moonlight that flickered and drifted across Tsuki Yomi’s robes. The light seemed to glow from the God’s skin. When he’d been newly-formed and still just a baby, he’d been awed by this and deeply envious. It wasn’t until he was a teenager by human standards that he’d wondered; after all, the moon didn’t glow.

When he’d found out Tsuki-Yomi had gently tricked His Sister Amaterasu into giving up part of Her bountiful rays to him, he’d been both admiring and let down. Still, it was good to remember that, it made Him less…intimidating. Of course, She was on her guard, now, and he’d wasted a whole millennia attempting to cajole, trick, bribe and beg Her to do the same for him. No dice.

He sighed again, his heart heavy. He loved his home; the gardens, the wooden walkways, the tatami under his feet, the daily meetings, the friendships, the harmony, the familial love. Oh, there were fights, there were dramas, but never from him, never of his causing. And he could be there again, and soon, but it would be tainted by aching loss. He cleared his throat. “…Do you think Lord Izanami means it? About me dying, if I fail.”

“I think so,” the Lord replied.

His throat tightened. “He’d really do that? Let me die?”

There was a slight pause. “If the threat wasn’t real, you wouldn’t try, and you wouldn’t learn. So yes, I think he would. Which is why I’m here helping you.”

“I thought He loved me,” He choked out. “But I guess it’d be easy for him to write up another god of literature.”

“Yes, it would.” Tsukiyomi’s fan came up to hide his lips for a second and then tapped him on the nose. “He is confident of your success.”

He bit his lip and buried his face in his knees. To think his Father would do this to him. His beloved Father. Oh, he liked to be a big hard ass and act like he didn’t give a damn, but he’d never doubted for a second that Izanami knew how much he loved Him.

He started and lifted his head when the front door rattled. There was a sudden blast of drunken laughter and sodden goodbyes, then stopped just as abruptly at the sound of the door slamming shut. He was off the sofa and halfway across the room when Taka staggered in, grinning foolishly.

“Fumi kun?”

A wave of alcoholic fumes enveloped him, making him gag. The man weaved across the floor like a plane dipping and weaving through air turbulence and he caught him just before he folded to the floor. Absolutely sloshed. He was amazed beer foam wasn’t seeping out from his pores.

“It looks as if your project had a lovely night,” Tsuki Yomi observed placidly.

“The bastard shouldn’t have let him get to this state,” Fumi muttered in grim satisfaction. “It was totally irresponsible.” Macabre memories had him guiding his drunk friend straight to the bathroom, and not a moment too soon. The man threw up all down his front and onto the floor. Fumi let him heave and void for a while, thanking the heavens above for the drain in the centre of the tiny room. Once Taka was done and sitting on the floor, back to the bath, he turned the shower on to a cool temperature and got to work. He washed as much as he could down the drain, and then peeled Taka’s top off. He glanced to Tsuki Yomi, who was watching interested from the door, and shielded his charge with his body. “I’m sure you must be busy.”

The God gave a serene smile. “No, not especially.”

He flattened his eyelids. “Get lost.”

The moon god chuckled and drew himself away from the door. “Any messages you wish for me to pass on?”

Fumi hesitated. “Tell Yasuki and Shin-Kou-Ka I’m glad their happy and I miss them. Benten and Aizen-Myou kun too. Tell Lady Amaterasu to shine extra hard outside our window because otherwise we never get any sun. And tell lord Izanami…” his words caught in his throat. “No, I’ve got nothing in particular to say to him.” Okay so he was bitter and Tsuki Yomi knew he was bitter but he couldn’t help that and there were more important things to worry about. Tsuki Yomi inclined his head.

“Certainly. We will meet again, anon.”

And He disappeared in a perfect swish of robes. Fumi spent a fruitless moment wishing his life was that uncomplicated before turning his attention back to Taka. He peeled away the man’s jeans, his boxers, flung them into the corner, and spent a long, unguarded moment gazing at the man’s skin. He was slender, graceful, with just the right amount of muscle. A dusting of hair on his arms, his legs, at his groin, enough to be sexy, that was all. His hair was loose and getting long, it hung limply at his shoulders and needed a wash. He squirted a generous amount of liquid soap onto a sponge and then lathered Taka up from his head to his feet. He took his time, stroking over his shoulders, his neck, his chest, his belly, up and down his legs. He now understood Yasuki’s strange smile and insistence on performing the task from him. It was hardly a chore. Taka snored gently, occasionally being jerked awake to gaze at him blearily before sinking back down to the depths.

In time there were no more excuses to linger, so he used every one of them again on the drying. He finally eased the inert mass into a soft robe and half carried, half led him to his own bed. Only because it was nearest, of course. He eased the man down on his futon and combed the man’s damp hair out of his face. He took a moment to watch the man sleep and rummaged around for his hair dryer. He switched the gentlest setting on and dried the man’s hair. Taka murmured occasionally, surfacing to blink at him every now and then and give a half grin before sliding away again. At one point he woke up enough to blink and grin.

“Fumi kun,” he slurred. “Had a fantastic time…” the man’s brows drew together, probably trying to remember why it had been so fantastic and failing utterly. “Shoulda been there…” he slid away again.

Once the man’s hair was dry he tossed the dryer and drew the thin summer sheet over the man’s prostrate form, then went into the kitchen and set up plenty of asperin, green tea, bread and bananas for the morrow; Taka was going to need them. Finally he crept back into his room and slid down into bed beside his friend, grateful for his foresight in buying a double futon. Taka was still dead to the world and snoring gently. In the darkness, he reached out and slid his hand along the man’s neck, felt the pulse. It was steady, and he huffed in relief. He slid his hand down the man’s chest, circled a nipple and enjoyed the soft satin of it. He leaned over to kiss Taka’s brow, his nose, his cheeks, his lips. Hidaka might take him out for soccer and drinking, but he was the one who would look after him, always.

“Tadaima!”

Fumi dropped Shonen Jump, sat up on the sofa and offered a grin as Taka padded into the room and dumped two shopping bags onto the kitchen floor. “Okaeri nasai,” he intoned. He nodded to the bags. “Get any thing nice?”

Taka gave a bashful little smile and pulled out a few bottles of green tea – his favourite brand, and only available at a particular department store in Ginza, which meant the man had gone out of his way for it. This was followed by two special platters of seafood delicacies; five different kinds of sashimi and various sushi, all exquisitely laid out and wrapped in plastic. His face lit up and his mouth opened for an eager thanks, but then he paused, just in time. “Oh, ah…having a party? Hidaka coming over? If so I’ll have a shower, get changed,” he completed hastily. Death before looking martyred or jealous.

“No, no.” Taka pulled out Hero on DVD and made a mock-sickened face. “After last night? I’ve only now just recovered. I thought we might have some dinner and watch Hero togetherYou were saying you wanted to see it again…”

Wild delight flared in his chest, he cleared his throat and attempted blasé. “Oh, yeah, that’d be neat.” He wandered over to poke at the platters. “Wow.”

Taka slapped his hand away. “Stop that. Go sit back down. I’m doing the work, here.”

Fumi bit down on a gratified grin. “Oh, come on, I can help, since you bought…”

“No, this is my thanks for, uh, putting up with me last night. It must have been gross.” The man kept his voice light, but his cheeks were red.

“You did the same thing for me when I was smashed,” he pointed out gently. “No biggie.”

“Yeah, but…” The man hesitated, then went ahead with preparing. “You go sit down, I’ll be there in a minute.”

He did as he was bid. Hell yeah, it was nice to be appreciated, nice to be looked after. Not as nice as looking after, but it had a snug warmth about it.

Taka came over with the delicacies and chilled tea, and they watched the movie together. He loved Hero, the robes they wore, the background scenery, the temple grounds, they were all so similar to his former lifestyle. And if somehow over the course of the three hours they drifted together to get cuddly, well he wasn’t going to point it out and ruin the moment.

When the credits finally rolled, Taka made coffee and they drifted out onto the comfortable balcony seats to drink and gaze up at the stars. The breeze refreshed the hot summer night, carrying the scent of incense from the local temple with it. Taka heaved a contented sigh.

“You could believe heaven exists on a night like this,” he murmured.

Fumi snorted. “I know – “ he hesitated. “I know it exists. Cuz there’s always something to punish your mistakes.” He made a show of sticking his tongue out to the heavens and thankfully, Taka just laughed.

“What do you think it’s like?”

He laughed a little and took a sip of his tea. “Well, I think the heaven that humans go to is really lovely. A lot like earth, in some ways, but no pain or suffering. You’re reunited with family and friends that you love, and it’s calm, peaceful, and loving. It’s a second chance, if you like. Those that were assholes while they were alive generally don’t change – they never last long in the heavens, and sink down to the depths of hell.” He frowned. “How far down they go depends on themselves. But the Heaven where the gods reside is…home…just as lovely. There are beautiful gardens, the grounds are lush and extensive, each god has his own set of rooms, his own servants, they guide their humans to love…or they should guide their humans,” he added bitterly. “Although some seem to forget their purpose.”

“It sure seems that way, sometimes,” Taka remarked wistfully.

Fumi wondered that his heart didn’t make a sound as it shattered. “You feel your Protector has forgotten you?” he asked softly.

Taka laughed. “I used to. But these past five months have made me think he’s re-discovered me.”

He could smile, at least, at that. “I guess he has.”

“I used to wonder if perhaps my protector didn’t like me,” the man laughed whimsically. “Perhaps my allotted One is the God of Sport and he lost interest when I kept fucking up the drills in high school soccer practice.”

He snorted and then stared down at his coffee. “No, I think your protector must think you’re wonderful. I think he always has.”

“Wonderful?” Taka laughed. “How’dya figure that?”

“Because he’s obviously been keeping you selfishly to himself.”

The man sobered a little, and was silent for a time. “Well, I guess that would be some kind of consolation, if it were true.” He shrugged. “But all the same, my god isn’t here, and I’m not in heaven.”

He froze. “…You’re so unhappy?”

“Unhappy?” Taka stared up at the stars and grinned. “Well, no, not unhappy, exactly. I’m in a state of being exhilarated and depressed, confidant and terrified…”

He quirked a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The man smiled a tender, private smile down at his coffee. “I guess…I guess I’m in love, actually.”

His heart jerked horribly in his chest, sickness lurched in his gut, vaguely he heard his coffee mug smash on the cement, and his heart stopped beating altogether.

And then he was standing before a familiar bridge. His heart so heavy it hurt, he walked across it, reached the heavy doors on the other side, pushed on them, and they opened. Blinding light faded to reveal an open-air cavern. Last time, it had been a forest. A waterfall cascaded down the walls into a lake. In front of him were smooth stepping stones that led to a small island just in front of the waterfall. Three familiar figures waited for him on that small island. He could barely bring himself to walk the required steps over, but there was nothing else to do. He had to face it sometime.

All three of the Gods were smiling at him, all dressed in the sumptuous robes he had once worn. He was still barefoot in jeans and an old kuroyume shirt. If he hadn’t felt so heartsick the pointed meaning in it might have amused him but he couldn’t smile. When he shuffled up to stand before his Father, hands in pockets, the God smiled at him.

“Congratulations, Lord Fumijin. Your charge has admitted to being in love, and you have successfully completed your mission with only two weeks to spare. Welcome home.”

Words stuck in his throat. He knew he’d need to say something; they all stared at him expectantly. At least Tsuki Yomi’s eyes were watchful, gently sympathetic; the blithe incomprehension on Lady Amaterasu and Lord Inazami’s smiles made him want to scream. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I want to go back.”

“What?” The shock on Lord Izanami’s face was genuine, he felt a certain vindictive pleasure in that. “Fumijin, what are you saying?”

“I want to go back.” It was easier, the second time. He stared at the ground. “I love him,” He jammed his fists even harder into his pockets. “All right, so there. I love him. And it sucks because he doesn’t love me back. And you were right all along: I’m miserable and I hate it but I want to go back to him anyway because I can’t bear to be parted from him, I need to be with him and care for him and all that.” He rubbed at his eyes, lifted his face and glared at his Father. “Satisfied? I bet you knew this would happen all along, didn’t you? Oh yeah, let’s make Fumijin fall in love so he can see how miserable it is to endure unrequited love. Well it worked, so congratulations. And what the hell do you care, anyway? You don’t even care if I lost and died.”

Izanami’s serene smile returned. “It wouldn’t matter.”

Pain shattered him. “Wouldn’t matter!?” He scrubbed his arm over his eyes and held it there as he sucked in breath. “Wouldn’t matter? So easy to write another god of literature into existence, isn’t it? Guess you don’t need me.” He figured if he kept his arm across his eye it would stop him falling to bits. “Well fuck you, I’m going back. I don’t wanna stay here anymore. I don’t belong here, I’m going back so you’d better let me since you don’t care and –“

His Father’s hand came down on his head, and stroked down his hair. “Idiot Fumijin.” The love in His voice shook him. “How could you doubt Me? You are the god of literature, your soul could be none other, My pen can produce none but you. Should you have failed, I would have let you live and die as a human, and then given you re-birth, to live amongst us once more. As it should be.”

His body went liquid with relief, with hope, with love. He managed to look up to see a wry smile on the lord’s face.

“Of course, I’m not sure I can endure your adolescence a second time…”

He managed a shaky laugh and then he was in his Father’s arms. It had been a long time since he’d been held like this; because of course he was an adult and didn’t need the gooey parental reassurance. Yeah.

“Go back, Fumijin, with Our blessings. Win your Taka, and live with him as a mortal. Live together, die together, and be reborn here together, if that is your wish. You are wrong, my dear, I did not plan this, and indeed, I rightly or wrongly assumed it was Hidaka that Taka has fallen in love with. But I do not know…”

Had he been in any condition to look around, he would have seen Lady Amaterasu staring suspiciously at Tsuki Yomi’s broad grin.

“..and I can see it is good for you, to do this. Go, and live with him, and know that in time, you will rejoin Us, with Taka by your side.”

He swallowed down hard. “Thank you, Father.”

Then Amaterasu swooped down to plant a kiss on his forehead. “I will shine my light brightly upon your apartment, Fumijin, every day.”

Then Tsuki Yomi’s robes enfolded him. “And I will give you the night, Fumijin kun, Warm summer nights with incense in the breeze, to caress you as you lie in his arms.” He received a lingering kiss from the Moon God. “Cold, crisp winter nights to gaze out on as you hold each other close under warm blankets.”

Inazami kissed his forehead. “And I give you My love. You need no further gifts. I do not doubt your success.”

Fumijin gasped as the High Lord slammed his palm over his heart. He felt his soul jerk back and away from them, they grew distant and then faded in front of his eyes before everything went black.

“Fumi kun! Oh my god, Fumi kun, are you okay? Oh god fuck where’s an ambulance oh my god…”

He was so disorientated, for a moment he was tempted to lie still for a while to regroup, but the terror in Taka’s voice alarmed him into opening his eyes and trying to sit up. “Taka, it’s okay,” he managed.

“Oh, thank god!”

He looked up to find Taka crashing down beside him on the patio, his face white. “You just leapt up and collapsed like a puppet,” he gasped. “It was like you had a heart attack! It was terrifying! What happened?”

He managed an embarrassed smile and sat up properly. “Oh god no, nothing like that…” He wracked his brains. “It was just…just a spell of low blood pressure.” Good one. “I think I stood too quickly, and on top of the alcohol…it hit so suddenly. Weird.”

Taka did not look reassured. “Fumi, I think you should go to see the doctor. Now. Here, let me help you up…”

He allowed himself to be eased up off the ground and guided inside. He could have told the guy that he was perfectly fine but…later. He didn’t protest when Taka eased him down onto the plush leather sofa, and held up a forestalling hand only when his love went for the phone.

“Taka, it’s late. I’m fine, really. I’ve had this happen before,” Lies were forgivable in this case, weren’t they? “and it’s just due to heat and being tired and drinking too much alcohol. I’ve always been ten minutes later.”

Taka’s face was still pale. “You should see a doctor.”

“Tomorrow,” Fumi soothed, “I promise.”

Taka collapsed down beside him and stared into his eyes, his brow creased. “I was so worried.”

Music to the ears. He bit down on a bashful grin. Taka was his to win. His! For eternity! A well of happiness flooded him. Lord Izanami wasn’t angry, and loved him still. He could enjoy this mortal life, secure in his welcome home. He had cash in the bank and ideas for the man, ideas which didn’t involve him slaving in retail due to lack of funds. And he loved him.

Of course, he had to tell the guy so.

He’d never had to do this before, but how hard could it be? He was the lord of literature, for heaven’s sake, he dripped poetry just breathing. He knew all the words, all the right lines. He got up onto his knees on the sofa and faced his companion. “Taka? It’s like this-”

His mind went blank.

Taka was gazing at him expectantly, and in love with Hidaka. Hidaka! That smug, gorgeous Mr Perfect that was just so right for the guy. Right? Ha! So the bastard was handsome, fit, liked good music and was…nice. There was no real emotion in him, he didn’t really give a damn, he was all surface glitter, while he himself...

His throat congealed. “Fuck it.” He mashed his lips down on Taka’s and slid his tongue in for a thorough kiss before he could get pushed away. A dim part of his mind scornfully ridiculed his gaucheness but Taka breathed out a shocked gasp that held nothing of horror and then he didn’t care how gauche he was. Taka grabbed him back and deepened the kiss - real, not wishful thinking – and he couldn’t think of anything but the hardness of his body, the way he clung back voluntarily, the erotic little sounds of pleasure, the fact that those sounds were pleasure – pleasure in him! And the skill of his lips, the heat and steel between his legs. “Taka, Taka…” he breathed tenderly. “You don’t love him, do you? You don’t?”

“…Him?” Taka drew away for a minute, his mouth parted on a sleepy, sensual smile, his eyes dazed, uncomprehending. Then his eyes flashed. “Hidaka? You thought..?” Then he laughed. “Idiot. Hidaka’s great and all, and sure I was a bit dazzled at first, but he’s not you, he’s nothing like you, he could never be you, he just wanted me to join his soccer team and anyway he’s straight…Why are we even…? Come here.”

Taka pounced on him. He didn’t even bother with a token struggle. He just luxuriated in Taka’s body on his, Taka’s lips on his, Taka’s tongue sliding with his. Taka’s bare hands sliding up under his shirt, skimming along his torso, teasing him out of his shirt. He was embarrassingly eager to help; he ripped Taka’s shirt off him and shoved the man’s jeans down as fast as he could. There wasn’t any point in being cool about it; they wanted each other too much for that. Taka was too starved, he too needy. He never imagined he could be like this: Always before, he had enjoyed his affairs; he had given pleasure and taken it, but always smiling, always in hand, always self-possessed. For the first time there was uncertainty, desperation, an urgency he couldn’t control. Taka’s starved lust took reign, the man held his arms down, teased him with kisses down his throat, over his collar bones, licked his nipples, sucked them with a passion startling and so erotic in it’s aggression. Taka bit down on one peak and he cried out in shock when he almost came. His hands were trapped, he could do nothing but squirm and moan and plead incoherently as his tormenter spared him a smile of drugged lust before biting the other peak just as savagely. Again that spike of almost orgasm. He wanted more of it.

“Come with me.”

Taka lifted him up off the sofa in one strong pull. He staggered to his feet and gasped in bliss as Taka shoved him towards the man’s bedroom. Never before had he been submissive, never before had he gloried in it like now.

“Down.”

Taka pushed him down onto the futon, on to his belly on folded knee, he had no time to move before Taka was on top of him, kissing his neck, his back. And then…the shocking magic of a long, wet lick over his hole, a tongue devilling inside, another spike that trembled so close, so close. “Taka!” he screamed horsely. He whimpered for more, Taka gave it, licking him there again and again wave after wave of excitement,weakening him until his knees collapsed. He rolled onto his back and spread his legs up and out. His sex jutted out, heavy and rich and dark. The man stared at it with such blatant, greedy lust he couldn’t bear it. “ Taka,” he pleaded.

Taka swooped his head down and latched onto it, sucking strong and fast, slurping and humming in bliss. He shrieked in ecstasy. “Taka!” Wet warmth sucking and squeezing, so much pleasure his body shook and he jerked and came so hard and so long he hazily wondered if it would end, he needed it to end, it was unbearable...

Finally he was over the arc and drifting down, pulsing again and again into Taka’s mouth, Taka was swallowing it, swallowing it all, looking hungry, eager for it. It made him ache again, ache to accept him, please him, submit to him, give him anything no matter how degrading. “Taka,” he whispered.

The man was already fumbling with the flip-cap lid, as he drew away, squeezing out liquid heaven, smoothing it on him, sweating, shaking, his heavy breathing matching his own. The man held him, then, wrapped on arm around his neck, one arm around his leg, shifting them until he was half on top. He shifted to one knee on either side.

“Fumi, let me…”

It was a demand. He shivered in resonance and clung, kissed the man’s nipple and lifted both knees as high as he comfortably could to offer himself. Taka held him tight, and then there was sweet pressure at his hole, some probing, pushing, Taka’s gasps and sexy little grunts, some pain, but the need for it making him urge Taka on, and then the heaven of Taka’s sex finding the right angle, pushing at him, sliding into him, filling him up, soothing his own ache. Taka’s rough cry of pleasure so thrilled him, he knew then and there he would spend eternity trying to induce that sound once more. Then came the awkward pounding, holding each other secure, smoothing it out, Taka’s neck straining, trying to hold it back, his muscles cording, his pounding coming sharper, stronger, his cries filled with lust, satisfaction, triumphant ownership. Finally Fumijin clung tight as Taka hammered him for those last few moments, his cry stuttering and finally shattering in bliss.

They held each other and panted, both overwhelmed, both exhausted. He concentrated on enjoying the feeling of Taka still inside him, ejaculating in him, using him. They held each other for a long, long time, until their breathing calmed and they felt able to move into a spoon cuddle. He wrapped Taka’s arms about him and sighed in deep content. Neither spoke, until he breathed in a familiar scent. His eyes opened in the darkness, and he breathed in again.

Tsuki Yomi’s scent. He looked around, but they were alone, he was sure of it. And yet the night breeze carried it in celebration, in benediction, in flagrant, sensuous voyeurism. He flushed and grinned and smiled to himself and said nothing. Taka need never know what he had been in the past, of what he would be again in the future. Guilt or humble inferiority from Taka unendurable, it was enough that he would find out when they took that next step together, as equals.

“Stay with me, Fumi? Don’t go back to Kyoto.”

Fumijin grinned to himself and reached back to tug gently on a lock of the man’s hair. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll go back plenty of times, on holidays. And then, one day – home.”