The mistress of ceremonies leans forward on hir podium and peers at the goings-on at the side-stage.

"That wasn't so bad," se reasons. "There was violence."

"Indeed," says the Announcer.

Shrugging, the Goddess leans back and examines the neglected note cards before hir. Se straightens them awkwardly. "Right," se says. "And now, I presume, it's time for the Best Author award? Finally?"

"Ah, actually, it's time for another commercial break."

"Wait--"

Lights fade on again, but you notice, strangely, that it isn't the main stage with Kanzeon that lights up, but rather the tier from which the Slash award was presented earlier.

Somewhere in the shadows, a deity is cursing the name of whomever raped their nice and neat little program schedule.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Announcer says anyway, trying not to sound amused, "please welcome the presenters of our fly-by-night award, Prince Kougaiji and Dokugakuji."

"...How come we didn't get fainting fangirls like bro and Hakkai?" Dokugakuji says at the podium, faintly heartbroken.

"It must be screentime." The youkai prince shrugs. "Onto the award.

"Tonight we look at the achievement of an 'Echoes from the West' fanfiction in bringing to life one of the series' least-explored and recognized characters. These are stories that are by their very nature against the mould of Saiyuki fanfiction, but have still proven themselves fantastic pieces of literature withstanding reader unfamiliarity, and even helping to popularize the character. Therefore, we honor these authors for their service with the Best Hazel Fanfiction Award."

He stops.

"...Best... Hazel award?"

"Kou?"

"Why does Hazel get his own award?!" Kougaiji demands, growing furious. "He's only just come into the manga! I've been around since the first installment of the series and I don't get my own award! Hardly anyone ever fics me!"

"Kou," his bodyguard says, holding up his hands, "calm down. It's just an award..."

"This is a bloody outrage!" Kougaiji shouts into the mic, bristling under his tuxedo. "Just what's wrong with the staple characters you have already, that you have to go out and popularize a snitty little one-shot villain?!"

"Um," Dokugakuji tries, making efforts to nudge him away from the podium. "You're sort of a villain too, Kou."

"I am not a villain! I'm an antagonist! There's a big difference!" He twists from attempts by the taller man to pull him back. "And even the villains get more fangirl attention than I do! What the hell does it take to get some notice around here? Look, I'm beautiful, I'm effeminate, I have enough angst to choke a horse, what more do you need?!"

"Kou..!" Doku complains, taking drastic measures and finally wrapping his arms around the fuming prince's midsection. He drags him back, muttering some embarrassed apologies. And noting to himself that probably the only thing that was gonna get the boy to calm down now was a bit of reinforcement of The Ol' Height Rule.

Yaone, passing the other direction in a hurry, gives a quick pat onto the kappa's shoulder while adjusting her clip mic with her spare hand.

"I'm terribly sorry, everyone," Yaone says with a bit of a whine. "It would seem our lord is... not himself tonight. Please, ah, allow me to introduce the nominees for Best Hazel Fanfiction."

She clears her throat, waiting for the last of the hissy-fitting to die down backstage, and begins.

"Between the Shadows by Elvaron."

Hakkai chuckled. "Daylight burns away some shadows that are only cast by the moon. It doesn't mean that the object which casts those shadows is not there." He paused. "And if the light of the sun were to be put out, that would be a loss to us all, would it not?"

Hazel brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. "I'm afraid I don't understand you."

"You understand me perfectly well." The smile upon Hakkai's face was gone, abruptly. He took a single, deliberate step forward, and Hazel stiffened. "Your element is moonlight, Hazel-san. Sunlight doesn't suit you at all."

"Can't change the way things are."

"And if you could?"

Gojyo laughed, a short, bitter bark.

Hazel persisted. "Would you change your blood, if you could? Change your eyes and hair, choose one side and never look back, if it were an option?"

Your eyes and hair are an admonishment to me, Gojyo-san. Except Cho Gonou was dead, and Hakkai didn't needed to be reminded any further of blood.

"..........yes." An exhaled admission, quiet as the night wind.

"I can give you that."

"D00b!" Hwan shouts to her from the wings.

Yaone starts. "Oh, right! Fic of d00b, by Elvaron."

To put it simply, Sanzo had no social skills whatsoever.

Not a problem when dealing with Gojyo. Gojyo was simple, and straightforward, and he was male. Sanzo could handle males. Not a problem when dealing with Hakkai either, because Hakkai was usually smart enough to recognize this major deficiency in Sanzo's personality and work around it. The lack of close association helped too. And Goku, Goku was just fine with everyone.

But Hazel.

If there was ever someone that Sanzo would put the label of 'gay' to, it was his husband. Granted, Hazel didn't wear tight shirts, no one accused him of crossdressing or wearing skirts, and he was more into music than poetry...

...but he fought like a girl.

Soft lips graze a jawline, trail down to the side of the throat. Nose nudges down the line of the leather, for mouth to suckle the softer skin there. An old pattern. An indiscretion I'd allowed him, to let him have one pleasurable sight no other would be allowed to see. The red marks that would burn along the neck for days as a reminder, that would feed an addiction to lead me back to his room when all rationality said to stop.

It stings sharp now when he releases, let the pale air hit it and its darkening skin. But here the pause in reprieve is shorter than it was. And it isn't lips that brush tendered flesh.

I can't think. I can't speak. Everything locks.

No! Hazel bit his tongue to keep from screaming the denial out loud. He was not forsaken. He had never faltered in his quest. All of his life had been devoted to the work of the Lord. There was no other champion for the quest of true compassion such as he, they'd all told him, he was special, he was the chosen...

He was not ...left alone...

Forsaken, how easily rent from the order of the world. What sort of savior are you?

"Come back," he whispered to the dead thing, rocking over it in his own misery. "Come back, please." The boy in his arms was growing colder, heavier. The rush of scarlet dried in tracks down pale cheeks.

Seven years old and left alone in the dark...

The voice laughed at him.

But the old man had offered her with a warning, because like all things, perfection wasn't. The Butterfly was not, repeat not, to ever touch the blood of living flesh. She must not cut, she must not slice, she must not stab, she must NOT kill. Though shaped as an instrument of war, her purpose was not to inflict pain on living creatures.

The young man he'd been hadn't understood. Why make a sword, a weapon, if one was not allowed to use it as such?

'She was born to exist,' the Venetian said matter of factly, unruffled by Hazel's confusion. 'Not to bend to someone else's preconceived notion of what she should be or should do. She is, and that's all.'

And words failed. The breeze felt cold now, and Gato had not felt that sensation since becoming a shikigami. Since Hazel had pulled him back from death. Since the days of the old country, back before Tougenkyou, before the Vatican City, before the Cardinal summoning him one night while Hazel was sleeping...

To protect the boy as long as he could, and to ensure his death before he turned into a monster. On no account was he to return from Tougenkyou.

And the boy's screams at night had convinced him of the truth of the matter, the way in his worst nightmares his fingernails actually lengthened to points, canines drawing blood from his lips. There were things that Hazel did not remember--

--or perhaps he did.

"If it were done, when tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly," Hazel murmured.

And Gato's heart broke.

The alchemist notices, belatedly, that a good part of the audience is muttering in confusion.

"Oh, just wait a few months until you catch up with the series," she laughs, flicking her wrist a little. Then, discovering the action, stops abruptly and hides the hand behind her back. "Ah, yes, anyway. There is only one winner for the Hazel Award, and no tangible prize--"

"YES!" Kougaiji shouts from backstage, vindicated.

"--but nevertheless, for the Golden Sutra of Best Hazel Fanfiction, we award Crossfire by Hane Shinohara."

Claps rise up, as per usual, and Chin Yisou politely starts up what could loosely be called victory music.

Which falters a little when someone whoops, and eyes turn to the girl that has just leapt out from back stage.

"YES!" Hane Shinohara announces, throwing up her hands as the stage hands around her turn and stare. "Finally, a true acknowledgement of my ability to impress the Webmaster!"

"Your what?" K.A. asks beside her, trying and failing to pull Hane back behind the curtains.

"El kept saying, 'Hazel needs more fans! To get more fans, we write good fic!' YES! Efforts PAID OFF!"

"Well, yes, but--"

K.A. makes a last drab at the skirt of Hane's cheongsam, but nabs only air. The author makes a dash for the podium.

"Wow, this is so awesome!" Hane beams, scooting Yaone away from the mic and tugging the golden sutra statue from her. "I mean, wow! Wow, I never thought this'd happen! El, are you watching, El? We made it, guys!"

"Right," K.A. mumbles from the wings, "all three of us."

"Ah, miss--" Yaone attempts.

"I wanna thank my horses, and my cat," Hane goes on. "And K.A. and El and Ix and Yukie and the little green fairies that tell me to burn things. And that guy that took my order at Mickey D's yesterday. And all those really bad movies I never watched. And calculus. And stupid English professors. And my HORSES!"

"Excuse me--"

"And Hazel for being shiny, and Sephiroth for being shiny too, and Dilandau and Riku and Alucard and--"

"Dear gods. She has a complex."

"--and ROY! And Crowley and Aziraphale and Rasetsunyo and Homura--"

"You're welcome!" a voice calls from back stage.

"And SPARKLES and GLITTER and EL, who's like all of that combined, but with coffee! Oh, oh, and Randal Graves, and the guy who invented music, and did I already mention the guy who took my order at the food place yesterday?"

K.A. and Elvaron peek out from the curtains as one and exchange glances.

"Right," says Elvaron. "Desperate times, desperate measures."

Hane, poor dear, never saw it coming.

"Hey, wait!" Hane protests, between bat bludgeonings. "I wasn't done yet--!"

"Yes, ah, thank you," Yaone tries to resume, as the winning author is dragged off to be mauled into unconsciousness somewhere more private. "Congratulations to all our... three... contestants. Um. And now back to our mistress of ceremonies?"

Proceed >>