And the price is our own lives until it's done by Solaas
Index
Chapter 1: The price
Chapter 2: Consequences
Zenon whistled tunelessly to himself as he went about his business. It was a fine afternoon, promising to become an even finer evening in his not particularly humble opinion. His current business consisted of getting out of the bath, drying himself off, shaving, unsuccessfully trying to discipline his hair, and finally getting dressed. The proceedings were only interrupted by a brief bout of wheezing and swearing when after-shave was applied to surprisingly tender cheeks. He never learned.
No-one with even half a brain would ever accuse Zenon of being a smooth dresser. He'd pick whatever his hands encountered when reaching into his closet, and that was invariably a pair of jeans, a singlet and a pair of socks. Comfy, solid wear that could take the strains of a violent life without falling to pieces after only a couple of vigorous washes. It took some work to get the bloodstains out, after all. He grinned approvingly at his reflection, and ran a hand over his cheeks to make sure he'd done a proper job with the shaving. Yep, smooth as only a manly man's freshly shaved cheeks should be. A quick adjustment of his eye-patch later he put on his boots and his jacket, and then he was all set and ready to go. It was already quite late, but that was all part of his grand scheme.
One teleport-bamf later (and how he loved being able to do that) he was standing in a narrow back alley in a crossroads town. He'd come across the place a few years earlier and taken a liking to one of the pubs there. After Homura had set up shop in a youkai castle nearby (well, nearby as the kami flies anyway), Zenon had adopted the pub as his official booze pit. That particular way of putting it had nearly earned him a thick ear, courtesy of the pub's owner, who happened to be yet another reason why he liked the place so much. He'd dodged the slap of course, as he wasn't about to let anyone smack him like that. Not even Kimiko.
She was also the reason why he'd bothered to shave again, only a few days after his last date with the razor. The lady had proved rather resistant to his advances, and that to him was a good sign. He'd had many women both before and after his wife, but mostly they were either gold diggers and intrigue-loving bitches only interested in his godhood, or they were afraid of him. Too afraid to reject him, and too afraid to show the fear. He hated that, because even though a frightened woman could and would act very well, he'd see though it eventually. When you got to be his age, spotting an unwilling mind inside a treacherous body was easy. It wasn't very satisfying, and invariably left him in a bad mood where painful memories would get to work, filling his guts with hot asphalt.
However, the pub owner was in a league of her own. She wasn't scared of him in any way he could detect, nor was she even interested. Zenon frowned to himself. He hadn't mentioned the thing about being a god yet; not to her and not to the other patrons of the pub. Perhaps it was a quirk, but for now he wanted to keep his anonymity and to hell with Homura's knowing smirk and Shien's almost-but-not-damn-quite condescending bland puzzlement. The question did nag at him though; how would she react when he did tell her? Would he then get to see that all too familiar spark of fear in her eyes too? Or the equally familiar flash of greed? She didn't seem to be the type for either, but experience told him that the prospects were on the glum side.
Oh well, not much point in crossing future bridges. Though he could hold a grudge with the best of them, Zenon wasn't one of nature's worriers; so he lit a cigarette and strolled to the pub. When he stepped inside, he was greeted by the usual din of voices chattering, glasses clinking and music wailing from the jukebox. The air was hazy with cigarette smoke, and the smells of alcohol, pub-meals and people. He grinned and lifted a hand in greeting to a bunch of the regulars, who greeted him back from their noisy game of cards. Hiro seemed to be losing again, and the kami couldn't help but smirk to himself. It was pay day at the sawmill, and that meant that Hiro's old lady would show up within an hour, as she always did, to drag her sorry excuse for a wastrel husband home by his ear. He also knew that her sister, who happened to be married to Daisuke, the self-proclaimed king of cards, would quietly give the money Daisuke had won off Hiro back. The whole dance was just another one of those things humans got up to with so much more gusto than similar routines in Heaven. Let the celestials scoff and mock; he preferred live people to the undead bastards upstairs.
Behind the bar, his target was busily at work serving up drinks and staying on top of things. Kimiko stood a fairly average height above sea level, some five feet and seven inches. She wasn't a day younger than thirty-five, and to Zenon's jaded eye she looked all the better for it. Her body was trim but mature, and she wore her usual outfit of wide, just below knee-length brown trousers, a red tight-fitting blouse cut low in the front, and low sensible shoes. The sleeves on her blouse were rolled up, and around her waist she wore a broad sash that could double as a kitchen towel in times of need. She kept her brown hair in a bun, and her smile ready at all times. Zenon knew from past experiences that she also kept other things ready, for those times when a smile or a brutal chastising wasn't sufficient to stop fights.
"Evening, Kimiko. How's it going?" he nodded to the proprietress, who was busy pouring ale into several tankards.
She grinned at him, "Great as usual and not a boring moment in sight. And yourself, Zenon? I haven't seen you here in a while?" she asked while topping off another tankard without even looking at it.
"Enh, been busy lately. The boss's been crabby and all too eager to share the goods, you know how it is. Did you miss me?" He nodded to the tap while he was at it, signalling that yes, he was thirsty.
Kimiko snorted a laugh, "I always miss regulars who haven't been by to spend their hard-earned money in a while. 'S good for business, see? Wouldn't know much about crabby bosses, seeing as I am the boss 'round this place. My disposition is always sunny!" The statement was slightly ruined by the wicked grin that accompanied it. There were a few too many devils dancing in her blue eyes.
He grinned and helped himself to a handful of salted nuts. "You really are a piece of work, you know that? The whole 'I'm only after your money' makes romancin' you kinda hard, at least when you spell it out so clearly."
An earthenware mug appeared in front of him, courtesy of the pub's leading lady. She held on to it while meeting his one-eyed look with her own two-eyed variant, gifting him with a sardonic smile. "Well, a smart man wouldn't be trying to 'romance' me in the first place, chum. Enjoy your drink now," and with that she was off to serve another thirsty customer.
"Aw man..." Zenon complained.
An old geezer leaned on the bar next to him with a friendly and mostly toothless grin. "She's a hard-nosed old lady, our Kimiko is," he noted conversationally.
"You don't say," sighed Zenon theatrically and proceeded to get to know his beer better.
"Aye," nodded the old man. "She's a fine figure of a woman, but damned if any of us local widowers and bachelors have been able to win her over. A woman like that shouldn't be livin' alone," he sighed. "'S against nature, that. She's got a few years left to breed, and is well equipped for it. Just look at that figure! It's not right for a woman to go to waste like that."
Zenon could hardly disagree with the sentiment, but he had to laugh. "Don't tell me you've been wooing her too, Yoshio-san?"
The other man snorted indignantly and drew himself up, "Of course I have! Don't let appearances deceive you son, there's plenty of juice left in this old body," he thumbed himself in his scrawny chest to emphasize. "And you can drop the 'san'. In here, Yoshio will do."
"Ah, in that case lemme buy you a drink. I can't call a man only by his name unless I'm drinkin' with him." It was something of a ritual that he and the old veteran went through each time they met. The kami liked Yoshio, and Yoshio seemed to like Zenon too. Though Zenon was sure the free drinks didn't exactly sour the camaraderie, he appreciated the well-meant advices he kept getting nonetheless. Yoshio didn't need to know that the man he kept calling 'son' and 'youngster' really was a god, and older than dirt.
The prospect of a drink brought out a pleased beam all over the old man's face. "Well I guess I can live with that, my boy. Oi! Kimiko-love! Bring us more beer, will you? We're dying of thirst over here!" he shouted down the bar.
"Ha! I should be so lucky!" Kimiko retorted, much to the amusement of the other barflies. "Maybe then I'd get a moment's peace, and not have to set up traps for old lechers who can't keep their eyes to themselves whenever I take a bath!"
"You're a cruel, heartless woman," Yoshio protested. "How can you live with yourself, knowing the heartache you cause?"
Kimiko laughed and filled up two new tankards that she brought over to the kami and the veteran. "I live with myself just fine, thank you. And I'm thinkin' the ache you're wailin' about is far less noble than that of the heart, you dirty old sod." She folded her arms over her chest, giving the onlookers just a little bit more cleavage to admire.
Hoots and jibes flew through the crowded air, leaving little to imagination in terms of exactly what kind of ache Yoshio was having, nor his ability to have said ache. This too was something of a ritual, one that never failed to amuse the kami. He shook his head and tried to drink as much of his beer as he could before the magic words were uttered and the real entertainment started.
"Auwww, Yoshio's still trying to fool around! Didn't you learn your lesson when old Aiko shelled your nuts?"
"Bah, that horrible hag is a fat old liar! She was after my manly assets, and wouldn't take no for an answer! I told her I was savin' meself for my one true love." Yoshio favoured Kimiko with a huge beam that displayed more dental decay than woman was ever meant to see, but she just rolled her eyes and told him to keep dreaming.
"Bwahaha! Who d'ye think yer foolin' Yoshio? Your little beanstalk wilted long ago!"
"Oh yeah? Why don't you go ask your mother about that, boy? She'll set you straight soon enough!"
And then all hell broke loose.
Magic words indeed, Zenon snickered to himself and dodged a bottle that was technically aimed at his frisky friend. Bring "your mother" into an argument, and wham! -You instantly have fists and bottles and stools flying all over the place. Maybe he ought to try it on that youkai runt in Houtou Castle sometime...
Kimiko was yelling at the top of her considerable voice for people to shut the hell up and stop thrashing the place, or by all the gods and demons she would make the rest of their short lived so fucking miserable! Well, here's my chance, thought the kami to himself. Time to clock some noggins!. He grabbed the two nearest combatants, and unceremoniously smacked their skulls together. It was instant lights-out, he noted with a smirk and grabbed his next victim.
"Oi! Didn't you hear the lady?" he bellowed. "Fucking behave yourselves!" Thump! Four down, many to go.
"SCREW YOU, ZENON!" shouted someone behind him, and tried to brain him with a barstool. The kami just sidestepped and gave the guy a little push in the direction that he was already moving in.
"Not in a million years, arsehole!" The guy fell flat on his face with a most satisfying thud.
Kimiko on her part had produced a cudgel and waded into the fray to knock out as many of the central troublemakers as she could. Zenon worked his way in her direction, to lend a couple of fists, elbows and the occasional knee. All the time he was careful to not hit the frail humans too hard; only enough to knock them senseless for a little while. Between them, and Zenon took great care to make it a team effort, they managed to stop the fight soon enough.
"Want me to toss these muppets out?" he asked her.
Kimiko glared around her pub to make sure that everything was under control. "Yeah, if you'd be so kind," she growled, then took a deep breath and yelled, "CLOSING TIME! EVERYBODY OUT!!"
Shortly after, the pub was emptied and Zenon returned inside to offer Kimiko a hand with the tidying up. He found her in the middle of the room, taking stock of the damages. "Not as bad as I feared," she commented. "Only a couple of broken chairs; the rest is just spillage and broken glass. Fucking idiots anyway."
"Look, I'm sorry, I shoulda stopped the old bastard," he started, trying to sound earnest. She turned and saw through him as if he were made out of glass. The incredulous look in her eyes made him pause, and a pregnant silence spread out between them. Kimiko straightened up and stroked her own cheek with a hand. He could see the bruises on her knuckles now, and wished for some of that ointment he'd used to soothe his son's knees an eternity ago.
"Zenon..." Her voice wasn't exactly tired, but it sounded just a tad reluctant. "Ah ... you should probably go on off home now, honey, or continue your drinkin' in one o' them other pubs. I'm gonna start cleaning up this pit, and..."
"I don't want to."
"You don't want to what?"
"Either of the above."
"Damnit, Zenon."
He shook his head and smiled crookedly. "Listen, Kimiko... Let me help you clear up this mess, eh? Between the two of us, we'll have the place gleaming in no time."
"No. I'm grateful for what you did just now, helping me to stop those asses from destroying my pub, but that's all. I'm single by choice these days, and I like it that way. And I'm really not in the..."
Well, he hadn't expected it to be easy. Trying to hook up with someone like her was bound to be an exercise in dogged patience and careful observing. Like now; he had just observed that while her voice and eyes did indeed seem to believe in her message, a fidgeting hand marred the image just a little. While her stance was as proud and confident as always, his gut feeling suggested that this was one instant where not taking no for an answer might actually be the smartest thing to do.
"...mood."
"What are you in the mood for then, Kimiko-san? A helping hand at the end of a long workday?"
A mutinous glare flared up in her eyes for a moment, and then she just sighed. "Sure, sure. I won't say no to your offer, as long as we've got one thing straight here: You ain't gettin' any o' that sweet lovin' afterwards, so you can quit the come-ons. Deal?"
Zenon chuckled and bent down to pick up shards of broken glass and earthenware. "I hear ya, ma'am." With a harrumph, the mistress of the pub went to fetch brooms, dust trays and buckets.
Less than an hour later the place had been transformed into a clean, orderly and rather cosy public house. Zenon felt quite the hero, and awarded himself a cigarette of honour. Kimiko came over to him. "What're you smoking?"
He held up the package to show her. "Lucky Strike, of course. Care to have one, ma'am?"
She smiled and accepted the offer of smoke and light graciously. One deep, lingering moment of inhalation later she sighed happily. "Thanks."
"You're welcome love; you sure earned it!" he told her and winked as he put away his lighter.
"Damn straight!" she agreed with a grin. "Thank you for helping me out here, I really appreciate it."
"Pleasure's all mine, honey." Zenon turned around and leaned both his elbows on the pub counter, tilting his head as he regarded Kimiko with an affable smile. She copied the stance, and answered his smile with a wry dimple of her own. He tried to read the expression in her eyes, but it comprised too many layers. Amusement, wariness, sadness, irony, distance, curiosity, jadedness and a number of other emotional flavours he had no names for. Naturally, he wanted to know more.
"A penny for your thoughts?"
"I don't run a pretend business here, you know," Kimiko scoffed softly. "A penny will get you a couple of peanuts at most, and stale ones at that."
"Aw."
A hush settled over them again, while their eyes kept on meeting and trying to read each other. Finally, Kimiko lowered hers and let out a small sigh. "You'd better get going, Zenon. It's late."
"I just told you, Kim. I don't wanna."
"And I just told you I ain't interested!"
"Why not?"
"What?"
"I said, 'why not'?"
"What the hell kind of cheek is that?! I said I ain't interested, end of story! I don't have to explain myself to you, nor anyone else!" she snapped in a tight voice, annoyance not really in check. To Zenon's ears her voice was too tight, so he decided to push his luck.
"I'd like to know, is all. See, I am interested -- you're impossible to not be interested in yaknow -- and I'd like to know what it is that makes a feisty, energetic woman like yourself 'not interested'. Is it me that don't catch your fancy? Is it somethin' I said or did? Or are you 'not interested' all over?" he rasped stubbornly and propped his head onto one hand while the other brought his smoke over to dump its ashes in the ashtray. He made sure to keep his stance as neutrally sympathetic as he could, to avoid spooking her or pissing her off even more.
Kimiko stared at him for a long time, then ran a hand over her face. "Oh, sod this for a game of soldiers..."
Zenon did his best Shien impression, and was rather proud of the inquisitive silence he managed to produce. The woman sighed softly and reached over the bar to produce a bottle and a pair of small cups. "My secret stash," she explained as she poured two drinks which proved to be excellent brandy. After a mouthful and another crowded pause, she offered an answer to Zenon's question.
"I still don't think I owe you any explanation, but it it'll make you bugger off and leave me alone, then why not," Kimiko started. As starts go, the kami didn't rate it very high on the promising-scale. "Basically, I'm done with men. I've have my share of 'em, and they're invariably lead to trouble. It just ain't worth the hassle any more. I like the life I have now, and that life has no room in it for a man."
The period at the end of the statement was firm and final. He twiddled and turned the cup in his hands, while a very private and personal dog-fight raged inside. Did he want this woman's companionship enough to risk playing his ace? And what if he did, and it turned out that they were playing by a set of rules where the ace wasn't an ace but rather a one? She watched him quietly, offering little in the way of a readable expression.
The hell with it, he finally decided. When it's all said and done, she's still just a human female. The world's lousy with them, and none of them would ever complete him anyway. He was a lone wolf kami running with a pack of other lone wolf kamis, lead by the loneliest of the lot. They were plotting to spearhead Armageddon, so there really was no time to indulge in flights of romantic fancy. Once would just have to suffice, right? Right.
"I'm not exactly a man," Zenon ventured carefully. "There's a bit more to me than..."
"Not interested in youkai males either," Kimiko interjected with a voice that held promises of cold steel in the immediate future.
Zenon choked on his smoke and his eye bugged out. "EXCUSE ME?!" he croaked.
Kimiko waved her hands in front of her, urging the unhappy man to calm down. "Hey, hey. Comb your hair down mate, I ain't gonna tell on you. You've proven a decent sort so far, and I see no reason why that shouldn't continue. I'm thinkin' that any youkai prone to insanity will have gone bonkers already, so you being one ain't no skin off my nose."
"What ... How ... Why the HELL...?!" Zenon was so thunderstruck that his words just plain refused to line up, and he was angry too. Never, never ever had he even imagined the possibility of anyone mistaking him for a filthy youkai. This really was not his day at all.
She shook her head and tried unsuccessfully to hide the wicked smile that lurked at the back of her eyes. "It's really rather obvious now that you told me. You're just a tad too efficient in a fight, and that eye patch power-limiter that just stays put without any strings is a dead give-away. Heh, and to think I first thought that it was glued on as some kind of tough-guy vanity thing! Look, I don't mean to offend you; I've been with youkai before, just as with human men, but I'm also just as done with youkai men. I've enough scars on me, and them claws hurt."
Zenon finally managed to line up his objections and march them out in plain hearing, for all the good that did him. "Waitwaitwait. No. No no no no. No. Stop it, woman. Listen — I am not a god damned youkai!"
A lovely eyebrow adjusted itself to a higher position on Kimiko's brow. "Then what?" She paused. "Shit. You're one of them double-equipped freaks, right? Whatstheirname ... Hemmafrodayties?" She gave the utterly gobsmacked kami a very thorough once-over. "But those look like regular pecs; nothing like tits at all..." she mused and reached out a hand to inspect his chest.
He caught it before it made contact. The extremely unwelcome image of a certain "goddess" laughing her freak immortal ass off at his downhill evening emerged from one of his mind's dark corners. He could only hope that Kanzeon would never hear of this, or at least not until it was too late to laugh anyway.
"I. Am. Not. A. Hermaphrodite." The laying down of Heavenly Law As Zenon Saw It was made through gritted teeth. "Nor, and I want to make this abundantly and indisputably clear, am I a stinking youkai."
Kimiko opened her mouth to say something, but he lifted a hand to stop her. The other still held on to her questing hand, as he played his ace. "I am a god. A kami formerly serving in the Heavenly Armies."
There it was. He'd said it, and felt fairly sure that it wouldn't do much damage as she'd already come up with far worse stuff. Her hand was warm, and he could feel the strength in it. Solid enough for a mortal, certainly. And warm, very warm. Perhaps if he kissed it...
"A kami? Right. Any particular reason why I should believe you?" the woman demanded. Kissing her hand would probably get him nowhere but outside in a hurry.
He downed the rest of his brandy in despair. "Why the hell would I say I'm a kami if I'm not? And you've already pointed out that I fight too well for a human bloke." He told himself that he wasn't pleading with her, but it didn't make him feel any better about his tone of voice. It sounded pleading.
"Yeah well, you could just be very, very good. There are aces around in all lines of work," she reasoned. "And as for the why -- dear merciful goddess... You've made it crystal clear that you want to shag me. A sufficiently horny guy will say anything to get his wick dipped." She tugged at her hand, and he released it reluctantly.
Oh, for the love of Pete, why did she have to call upon the merciful damned freak? Zenon hoped really, really hard that the goddess was busy making someone else's lives miserable and not listening to invocations, prayers or the like. He wasn't too keen on the wick analogy either, come to think of it. Wicks might be long-lasting sources of heat and light, but impressive they weren't.
"I can prove it, if you like. Gimme a crowbar and I'll tie a knot with it. Or I can levitate or move from this spot to somewhere else in an instant," he offered with less grace than he'd planned. Naturally, he ended up having to do all three.
Well, at least it impressed her.
"Woah! That's very impressive actually. I'm still not too sure about that kami thing, but you're def'nitely more'n 'just this bloke', that's for sure," Kimiko said while admiring the new and not at all improved crowbar Zenon had handed her.
He nodded, sighed and wasn't really sure how to react any more. On the one hand, he was happy that there was no trace of gold-digging greed or meek fear in her -- on the other hand, he was feeling a bit put out that she doubted his godhood. Also, she'd admitted to bedding youkai, which was not a quality trait as far as he was concerned.
"Yeah well, the full kami experience is a bit much to put on in the here and now, so I guess I'll have to live with your doubtin' me," he quipped dryly. "Did you really give it up to youkai?" Zenon couldn't help himself, he had to ask. Her face told him that she was less than impressed with his choice of words.
"I have never 'given it up' to anyone, pal. Man or youkai, I make sure I get as well as give. Every single one of my lovers and husbands have been good, decent fellas, so kindly watch your bloody mouth."
Silence settled around them again like a dreary invisible fog. Frowning, Zenon lit up a new smoke and drew the poison as deep into his lungs as he could. Any deeper and smoke would surely seep out of his ass. Okay, so miss perfect had a couple of youkai skeletons in her budoir. How bad was that exactly, he wondered. First of all, it was in the past, and second, it was ... not bloody likely he'd slink away from this challenge over that. Past tense, bygones, ancient history and really none of his fucking business. "But in the end they were trouble, right?" He offered her another cigarette which she accepted.
"That's not what I said. I said that they invariably lead to trouble. I suppose what I should've said was that being in a relationship invariable leads to trouble; it always does. Me, I'm too much of an egoist to deal well with such trials, I've come to realize."
He smoked some more and thought this over. "I'm not lookin' for anything steady like a relationship."
"The 'fucking god friends' thing is too close to relationships for my comfort," she muttered in a timbre that reflected some doubts.
"I'm not offering or expecting friendship either," he pointed out, unable to stop himself.
She laughed bitterly. "Oh Zenon of the Heavens, you really are quite the charming bastard, aintcha?"
He wanted to kick himself. "Sorry. That wasn't very smooth," he murmured and stepped over to close the physical distance between them. She didn't even flinch as he invaded her personal space, and his one eye met up with two fearlessly stubborn ones. "How about we skip this stupid fencing, and get to the bottom line? I ain't good at mincing words anyway; women always outplay me in that -- even human ones." Zenon paused and shoved his thoughts and words into line and to attention.
"Would you like to check out a kind of man you haven't had before; no strings attached, no promises promised, and no demands made that either of us don't care to meet?" He kept his one arm resting on the counter, while the other moved up to let him place a hand where her waist became her hip. The warmth seemed to radiate from her, and straight into his palm.
Kimiko didn't budge, nor did she shy away from his hand. A spark of hope lit up in his gut when he saw her pupils widen just a little bit; at least her body might be on his side in this. Her nostrils flared minutely, and he hoped she had caught the scent of his aftershave and of him. He wanted her senses to focus on him; sight, sound, touch, smell, taste... His own senses were already sharpened and hard at work.
"Mm," she started, pursing her lips and then moving on to nibble lightly on her lower lip. "I'm tempted, there's no denying that." He smiled hopefully. "But..." she reluctantly went on.
She took a deep breath that made it plain just how close they were standing when her chest lifted. He caught a whiff of warm skin and sweat and perfume that sent urgent messages up his spine and down through his stomach. The scent of woman was putting a few choice parts of him on red alert, and he unconsciously moved just a little bit closer.
"But what?" he asked, noticing vaguely that his voice sounded raw and slightly out of breath. His hand tightened on her hip, moving only a few millimetres, but ready to start wandering and exploring as soon as it was allowed. The hand on the counter had killed the cigarette, and he touched her right arm with gentle hesitation. Not too fast. Not too fast. Be patient Zenon, and you'll conquer, he told himself. Just deal with the 'but' first.
"But what is the price for getting intimate with gods?"
She might as well have rammed him with an eighteen-wheeler. It was an intolerable question, tearing through layers and layers of teachings, beliefs, hopes, dreams, memories and the bitterest lesson he'd ever learned. The pain was out there somewhere, but he couldn't pinpoint it. The sudden shock left him numb all over, and breathless because his chest felt too heavy to move at all. His right hand fell away from her and dangled uselessly at his side, his left hand slid off her arm and rested weakly on the counter.
"So, there is a price," she murmured softly as she took in his reaction. "And not a small one either, judging by the look on your face."
He had a look on his face? Oh yeah, he had been caught completely off his guard just now. Smacked full force with a clue-hammer the size of Litouten's ambition, right in his chest. That would leave a look on anyone's face, wouldn't it. Even Shien would've reacted to getting his ribcage flattened.
Of course there was a price, he thought dumbly. Playing with the gods always carried a price with it, and the price was death and misery. It was one of the many things he hated about Heaven, after all. It was the prime reason why he put his lot in with Homura's in the first place. His wife had paid the ultimate price for getting intimate with-, and knowing the love of a god, and their son too had paid for his parents' love. The cause and effect in kami-human relationships was so clearly outlined, and yet here he was; thoughtlessly pulling an innocent woman into the bloody mess that was the affairs of gods.
"I ... I am sorry. Please forgive me, Kimiko. I have no right to be doing this to you. No right at all. There's a price, yes, and it's too damn high!" Equal measures of despair and bitterness fought for supremacy over his voice. He straightened up and took a step back, but forced himself to keep eye contact with her. It would have taken a blind woman to not see the regret and hurt in his eye, he knew. That too was unwise. She certainly wasn't to blame.
But if she hadn't asked ... If she just hadn't asked, and let her body decide instead...
"This ain't right, so I'm gonna go away now. I'm really sorry, Kim..."
She twitched her hand as if she was going to reach out for him, but ended up folding her arms over her chest in stead. "If you say so, Zenon." Her voice was thoughtful as she continued, "I suppose I should thank you. For being a warrior god, you're acting pretty decent. You seem to actually give a damn about my fate, even though the price for the conquest would be paid by the conquestee and not by you."
Zenon made a mirthless grimace in place of a smile. "Yah, there's a reason I went renegade." He paused. "Thank you, Kim, for indulging an idiot this far. I just hope you asked your last question in time." He ran his hand through his thick, unmanageable spikes of hair and stepped further away. "Please forget this entire incident, and take care of yourself, y'hear? Good night, Kim."
He couldn't feel her warmth any more, and as her scent faded from his senses it left emptiness and a tiny ache just below his breastbone. He turned away and moved himself from her, step by step.
"Good night, Zenon. You take care now too, love." Her voice was oddly hollow, and he didn't dare turning to look for fear of doing something really, really stupid. If her eyes told the same tale as her voice, he doubted he'd be able to leave. But he had to.
The kami walked towards the entrance of the pub, fearing a stumble in each step. Painful memories were gaining on him, and a cold, nagging voice was whispering things he didn't want to hear about Kim's eventual fate now that he'd shown his hand. He nearly had his hand on the knob when he remembered that there was only him and Kimiko in the room, and then he teleported back to his room in Homura's castle.
He sat down on his bed, staring numbly at the wall. There was no denying the defeat and retreat, and he hated doing both. It wasn't his style at all, and yet here he was. Defeated. He swore angrily to himself that if, no, when Homura won his war against Heaven, he'd go look for Kimiko again and make her a better offer. Until then, he'd just have to settle for less. That's what whore-houses were for, wasn't it?
Zenon pulled off his jacket and sprawled on his bed. One thought shouldered its way through the jumbled host of thoughts and emotions that nagged at him: Let the final war come, and let it come quickly. For his room was too big, too dark and entirely too empty.
He was sitting on his favourite rock, at the very edge of a sheer cliffside that plunged down down down until it got lost in the mists of the world below. For all that it was Under Heaven, the world of Togenkyo had its fair share of uplifted grace. Places so remote that even a vengeful god could rest his soul for a few precious moments, and do nothing.
The standing order was to not approach him when he was brooding on top of his cliff, but on this day however, the chained god had asked Zenon to come along. Zenon had been with Homura for a very long time, so he knew well how to pick up on the minute changes in tone of voice and the near imperceptible shadings of his eyes that differentiated between a simple asking and a subtle order. So, in spite of not being at all interested in the high places of the world, he had followed his boss to the top of the mountain. Apparently this was to be one of Homura's story hours, he thought to himself, feeling faintly annoyed. To play mind games with his subordinates was one of the boss's less wonderful quirks, and Zenon hated it with a passion. He had given his word that he would be loyal to Homura and see the quest through come what may. It ought to damn well be enough.
Silence stretched out, and he could feel Homura's eyes shifting to look at him. There was no way around it, so after lighting a cigarette (pristine fresh air be damned), he sighed and asked, "What story was that?"
"I overheard some farmers talking down by the Green River, I believe they were fishing carp. The matter they were discussing was most intriguing; it would seem that a newcomer to the area, a man going by the name Zenon, has been wooing a local widow. Naturally, my ears perked up at this, and I resolved to gather as much information as I possibly could. Apparently this Zenon met with success last week, when he stayed behind in the widow's tavern after the rest of the clientele were thrown out due to a brawl."
Zenon closed his eye and felt his jaws clench and his mouth turn downward. It was all he could do to stop his fists from balling up, and his breath from trembling. "What the fuck were you doing spyin' on me?" he growled angrily. "Sir," he added on an afterthought.
Homura shifted a little, and looked up at Zenon with his hand and chin resting on the pommel of his sword. A catty little smile played about his lips. "Oh my, 'spying' is such a loaded word, don't you think? I was merely resting in a tree, watching the river flow by, when I overheard their idle chatter. Can you truly blame me for taking an interest when they start naming names that I recognise?"
A long, devout draw on the cigarette was the only answer Zenon was willing to give for now, but the setting of his jaw, the tense stillness of his shoulders and the edge-thin lips confirmed to all the world that here stood one very angry warrior.
"There were several details in the men's banter that I found interesting," his master's voice continued in a soft purr.
"The name was one of course, but nearly as fascinating was how they wondered about who this Zenon character really was. Apparently he has no house in the area, works for an unknown boss, travels a lot, no-one really knows anything about him, he's an excellent brawler, he can drink up a storm and still walk straight, he has befriended an old veteran of many winters whom he drinks with regularly, and last but not least, he got lucky with the aforementioned widow whom no-one else has managed to get near ever since her last husband died..."
A cold blue eye did its damnedest to stare a hole in the air in front of it. The eye's owner started on a good many curses which all died before even getting as far as his vocal chords. Finally he gritted out, "Get to the damn point!"
Zenon didn't trust himself to look at Homura, because he wanted to punch him and that would be a very bad move. Instead he swallowed down the rising pressure of furious bile that rose in his throat, and remained stock still.
The voice next to him lazily changed character from the smugly pawing cat, to the deadly razor hidden in silk. "There are many points, Zenon. For an immortal, you are remarkably impatient," he chided before continuing; "Did you win this woman's affections?"
"No. And why the hell are you asking me this anyway? When the fuck did you start caring about what I do on my own time?" Zenon demanded and turned to face his boss. Still very much pissed off, but enough in control to not try anything stupid.
Homura smirked ever so faintly back at him, still leaning on his sword. "I never did. What you have failed to realize is that you do not have any time of your own anymore. We are getting close to the culmination of our plans. Our great goal is within reach, and there can be no distractions from this. Do you understand?"
"Look, I don't think you've any right to stick your nose into my personal affairs, but like I said -- she turned me down," Zenon snapped back.
"That is not what I meant, Zenon."
"Then what the allmighy FUCK are you talking about?" yelled the frustrated warrior and crushed the remains of his cigarette with his heel.
"I am talking about the kind of distractions a village, such as the one your widow lives in, can provide for a kami such as yourself..." The voice was calm and insufferably overbearing.
Zenon glared at Homura while a paranoid, sickening little thought crept up his spine and wormed its way into his consciousness. The thought was a question:
How far would Homura be willing to go to ensure that there were no distractions?
Slowly and carefully, Zenon picked out his words and paraded them past Homura one by one. "I won't go down there until we've finished our work, if you can guarantee to me that neither will you. Nor will you in any way, shape or form cause harm to the people of Green River Village. Deal?"
The Warprince actually blinked. "I think you misunderstand me, Zenon. Again." He sounded vaguely annoyed, or perhaps offended.
After a brief pause, staring hard at the Prince he'd sworn to follow on his, no, their quest for revenge and a new world order, Zenon reached warily for his cigarettes and busied himself with lighting one up. "I guess you're gonna haf'ta spell it out for me, then. I like plain words; 's one of many reasons I never fitted in Upstairs," he rasped and looked away.
"Very well. Let us look at what you've been doing in Green River Village, then. One, you've never been seen entering or leaving the village; two, nobody knows where you live; three, nobody knows who you work for, but you have talked about a boss and how you travel a lot working for this man; four, you're a regular at one of the most popular pubs in town; five, you're reportedly on friendly terms with several of the other regulars there; six, you have been in numerous brawls but you haven't maimed, shot or killed a single person so far; seven, you've been pursuing the proprietress of the pub and as far as the rest of the town's aware, you actually managed to seduce her since you were never seen leaving, and eight, they all know your name..." The prince's voice went from dryly lecturing to laden with doom, "Zenon."
For several moments the only audible sounds were the two gods' breathing. One quiet, calm and confident; the other a tad too shallow and forced in rhythm.
"Why didn't you seriously harm or kill any of your opponents in those brawls?" Homura prodded.
The other god took another deep draught of his smoke and locked eyes with his superior again. "Because I didn't want to. It's my place, it's where I go to have a good time on my time off ... sorry, it's where I used to go, back when I did have time off."
"Your place..." echoed the dark prince, as if tasting the words and studying the concept that they formed.
"Yeah, my place. My stuff. I don't appreciate having others snoop through it, and I sure as all hell won't appreciate anyone actually touching my stuff," Zenon warned heavily. "All three of us have places and stuff that're private, and so far none of us've trespassed. Is that about to change?"
The chains that linked Homura's wrists rustled and clinked quietly when he grabbed his sword and willed it into potentiality. Then he crossed one leg over the other, and folded his hands over his knee. "I'm getting the distinct impression that you're deliberately trying to not understand me, my friend," he said and held Zenon's relentless stare. "Is it really that much more comforting and safe to distrust me, rather than face up to the reality of your own actions?"
Zenon balled one hand into a fist, but kept it glued to his side. He was rigid with tension as he hissed out his demand that Homura quit the thrice-damned games and get to the bloody point.
"Oh yes, blood. A very important part of the point, my dear faithful Zenon. Now follow this line of thoughts to its natural conclusion, and think about it: If there were anyone searching the Down There for clues to the whereabouts of renegade kamis, and they stumbled across the handsome village of the Green River -- what do you think they might make of these rumours about the eligible widow's new lover?" Homura asked softly.
There was no more point in trying to dodge it. Zenon's face was being studiously and carefully rubbed into a truth that offended him to his very core. He closed his eye and ran a hand through his unmanageable hair.
"Well?" the low, commanding voice next to him urged.
"People will tell them all they know, and then some," Zenon murmured mostly to himself. "She won't tell them much, but that doesn't matter. They'll find out enough to make it worth their while."
"Is that so?" inquired Homura. "How much did you tell her?"
"She knows I'm a renegade kami, that's all. But it's more than enough, and even if she didn't know..."
"Even if she didn't know, she'd still be useful. As bait," Homura finished for him. "And given that you obviously care about the entire village, even if that's just because it is your latest favourite vacation spot, they would have themselves a pretty huge blessed bait. Isn't that correct, Zenon?"
There was no mistaking the tone of Homura's voice now; the challenge rang out loud and clear, rending his subordinate's final illusions asunder as the Prince of War flowed up from his rock like a dark wind. Zenon found himself fixed like a pinned moth under the prince's consuming gaze, feeling the immensely strong hands of his commander grab his shoulders and squeeze. The wrath of the Heavens made man, the cleansing fire that had become its own Prometheus and had stolen itself from the gods was all he could see. Homura was a wildfire storm waiting to unleash itself upon the world, and Zenon's life and fate was bound to that of the Toushin Taishi by hatreds and desires shared.
Vengeance.
"I swore allegiance to you, Toushin Homura Taishi," Zenon made himself say. "I gave you my word of honour, and that is one of the few things I still hold sacred." Despite the maelstrom of past and future actions and reactions raging around him and his prince, his voice sounded oddly calm and firm. Right there and right then, the only thing that was real was the mismatched pair of eyes that held him transfixed and motionless. Their intense madness burned him like a fever but left his mind absolutely and painfully clear, freed from any and all confusion. There was only one way to follow, and Homura was it.
"There will be no distractions."
He could only hope that none of Heaven's hounds ever found that village he'd allowed himself to grow so fond of, and particularly not the widow Kimiko. It would hurt to have them all taken away, but he would not allow their fates to distract him from this one all-important task. If worst came to worst, if would just be one more thing to avenge. One more smear of blood upon the blackened canvas that was Heaven.
Homura smiled then; a brilliant blinding smile that banished any lingering shadows of doubt and washed away all regrets about the path they shared. He loosened the death-grip on Zenon's shoulders, and gave them one last affectionate squeeze before he let go entirely.
"Good. Now that you truly understand, and truly trust in me, we will speak no more of these matters. From now on, the three of us will work as one." Homura's smile faded back to his usual smirk, half knowing and half seductive.
Yeah, now that I truly understand, you have one more believer to help you carry the knowledge of the costs. You bastard.
Zenon grinned back and relaxed, feeling as if an invisible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The commitment had been made, the consequences had been laid out in front of him, and he was ready to face them head on. If it happened soon enough, he might even get to bring some of his stuff into the new world unharmed. And if not, well -- with the powers that were about to be unleashed in the area, chances were that they wouldn't have time to suffer.
Later that same day, Shien returned from his yearly pilgrimage to show them his ruined whips. Son Goku was ripening.