Warnings: angst, some language, and some yaoi (if you squint, that is).

By Nekomegamichan

Part 1

A cold, overcast November day in Tougenkyo gave way to a gray, rainy evening. Usually sundown would find Sha Gojyo, freshly washed and dressed, strolling into town with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a shit-eating grin plastered on his handsome face. But on rainy nights, he stayed home. He hadn't used to. Not long ago he had headed out to drink, gamble, and get laid in nearly any weather - and then a certain green eyed youkai had come into his life.

So as the first fat drops fell from the sky, Gojyo lounged at the kitchen table, his slippered feet propped up on the seat Goku occupied whenever the monkey and his monk came to visit. A game of solitaire, which Gojyo highly suspected he would loose (that was, if he chose not to cheat), was laid out in front of him. Tossing down a three of hearts, Gojyo delved into the pocket of his charcoal-gray sweatpants and pulled out his lighter. The butane was running low and it took him a few tries to light his cigarette. Taking the first puff, he plucked at the hem of his white tee-shirt, fingers running over an old soy sauce stain - the reason this shirt had been retired to the status of pajama top. His awkward-length hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, feathery red bangs escaping the elastic band and getting in his eyes. It was annoying, but so far he had been unwilling to cut it all off again. Gojyo insisted it was vanity to anyone who asked, and kept his real thoughts on his hairstyle to himself.

The teapot on the stove began to shriek, and Gojyo hastily balanced his cigarette on the edge of a battered ashtray. "Damn!" he mumbled, nearly overturning the chair in his haste to get up. He turned off the heat and set the pot aside to cool a bit while he got the cups and tea ready.

On the other side of the little house, Hakkai emerged from the bathroom and neatly deposited his damp towel in the hamper. Rain was pelting the windows now, and drumming noisily on the roof. Hakkai's good eye softened, slightly unfocused as he stared out at the misty downpour illuminated by the feeble porch light. Gojyo turned to flash him a sympathetic smile and held up a steaming mug of Hakkai's favorite tea, "Want some?"

Gratefully, the world-wary brunette sank down into the chair opposite the one Gojyo had just vacated, and accepted the hot drink. "Thank you," he said quietly, the edges of his lips turning up only slightly, as if his usual cheerful expression was simply too much effort tonight.

Gojyo understood, and resumed his seat, setting his own drink down by the ashtray and picking up his half-gone cigarette. Deft hands scooped up the cards and shuffled them, dealing a hand of poker for each of them. "Hopefully it will be clear tomorrow."

It rained for the next two days.

x x x

It was nearing midnight. Outside the monastery walls, the wind howled like an angry pack of youkai, and the overhanging branches of trees clawed at the roof with bony fingers.

Sanzo sat on the wide windowsill in his room, his back to the storm. A book, written in Komyou Sanzo's impeccable handwriting, lay cradled on his lap. Sanzo silently ruminated over his dead master's wisdom and subtle, wry humor.

He didn't realize he'd managed to doze off until a knock on his door startled him awake. "Sanzo-sama!"

"Go away, Dougan," Sanzo snapped irritably. It was rare enough that he was able to sleep on a night like this, without idiot, novice monks annoying the hell out of him. The boy's irrational worship made Sanzo's trigger finger itch.

"But Sanzo-sama, the Sanbutshin have ordered your presence immediately."

Sanzo rose, closing the book and carefully replacing it on the shelf. "Did they say what they wanted?" he asked, settling the Maten scripture over his shoulders.

"No, Master."

Sanzo knew it didn't really matter. The floating heads never summoned him if there was good news. He glanced in the mirror, quickly arranging his formal headdress. Stepping into a pair of sandals, Sanzo emerged from his room. Dougan looked up at him through wire-rim glasses, smiling in a way that clearly and pathetically expressed the boy's devotion.

"I can get to the audience chamber on my own," Sanzo said, prompting the youth to leave.

"O-of course, Sanzo-sama," Dougan bowed humbly from the waist as Sanzo brushed by him.

x x x

A thick mist lay over the ground, and the incessent sound of the rain rattled on. Gojyo awoke in the small hours of the morning on the second day of the storm with an uneasy feeling. Something was wrong. He sat up and let his eyes adjust to the dark room. Hakkai's neatly made bed was empty. The old fear of being left gnawed at the back of his mind.

Dragging himself out from beneat the warm layers of blankets, Gojyo winced as his bare feet made contact with the cold floorboards. After a few moments of fumbling in the dark with a box of matches, Gojyo was able to light the lamp. Golden light pooled on the floor and valiantly pushed back the night for a few feet in each direction. The electricity rarely worked during storms.

Slowly, Gojyo eased over to where Hakkai sat in front of the rain-streaked window. Hakkai's head was in his hands, his shoulders bowed and trembling as he tried to swallow his bitter grief.

Gojyo set the lamp aside and knelt down on the rug at Hakkai's feet. His gut was doing an amazing job of twisting itself into knots and Gojyo didn't like feeling so helpless in the face of his friend's pain. He lifted his left hand, intending to offer comfort but stopped, unsure how the touch would be received.

Hakkai heard Gojyo approach and get down on his knees. The redhead's chi was visible to his mind's eye, and it wavered, reflecting Gojyo's discomfort and uncertainty. Hakkai forced himself to take several deep, steadying breaths and wiped his eyes. "I'm okay now," he said.

"Liar," Gojyo sighed, finally letting his hand rest on Hakkai's forearm. He didn't have to ask: you're thinking of her, aren't you? The question hung heavily between them.

"It's been a year today," Hakkai replied, trying to ignore the phantom ache of the scar on his belly.

Gojyo mentally smacked himself. "Shit, Hakkai. I'm sorry. I should have remembered..."

Hakkai managed a weak smile, touched by Gojyo's concern. "Don't be. There's nothing you can do, just go back to bed."

"I can be a listening ear," Gojyo paused, rubbing Hakkai's arm in slow, soothing strokes. "You're not alone, you know."

Hakkai sighed, and to Gojyo's amazement, let what was left of his emotional walls come crashing down. The cutting rain had reopened the festering wound in his soul, and Hakkai needed to purge it before it killed him. Looking out the window he said, "I miss her Gojyo. I miss her sweet, gentle smile, and her warm, dark eyes. On my good days, I remember the way she looked when she stood in front of our house at sunset. I used to love the way her dress would blow around her ankles in the breeze - she'd always be there to greet me when I came home from work. I didn't even mind it when she hid my cigarettes... "

Gojyo's eyes snapped up. "No way! You used to smoke?" he laughed, "Somehow, I have a hard time imagining that."

"It's true. Really," Hakkai said. "I used to be quite the rebel."

"Yeah, right."

The tenuous, companionable atmosphere was suddenly broken as the wind picked up, moaning through every tiny crack in the walls, causing the lamp to flicker. A fresh downpour, mixed with hail to bombard the little house.

Hakkai's melancholy returned, and Gojyo wordlessly encouraged him to continue. C'mon Hakkai, let it all out. You'll feel better.

Lost in his memories, Hakkai stared blankly out the window. Gone were the bright, sweet days of their tragically brief life together. He could almost feel Kannan's fingertips brushing along his knuckles as she took his knife... "When it rains, I feel like I'm dying inside," Hakkai whispered. "Sometimes I want to finish what the Centipede clan couldn't and join Kannan in the freedom and peace of death." His mouth quirked up in a hollow smile, "I'm no expert on the afterlife, if there is one. Sanzo probably knows, though if I asked, I expect he'd simply shoot me in the head and tell me to find out for myself," Hakkai turned back to look at Gojyo. The hanyo's crimson eyes had darkened to the color of wine, and he stared pensively at the lamp on the floor beside him. Hakkai absently stroked Gojyo's short hair. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm scaring you, aren't I?"

Gojyo let his hand slide down Hakkai's arm to squeeze his friend's hand in reassurance. Sorrow and sympathy for Hakkai, and a strange, cold anger warred in him.

"If I had that night to do all over again, I wouldn't do anything different." Hakkai found the confessions were coming more easily. "I'm selfish, you know; terribly selfish. I slaughtered an entire clan of youkai for the woman I loved. And I can say in all honesty that if it had been humans, my actions would have been the same." He rubbed his forehead in a weary gesture. "If only Kannan had lived..."

He'd known the details of Hakkai's great sin even before he'd known his name, but their conversation was giving Gojyo a whole new understanding. "You make it sound like she was killed, like she didn't have a choice," Gojyo's voice was rough with emotion.

Hakkai pondered for a moment. "She didn't - not really. What they'd done to her, it was more than she could bear to face."

"I think Kannan was the selfish one," Gojyo blurted out.

Hakkai stiffened, snatching his hand away as if Gojyo's had burned him. "Go back to bed, Gojyo," it was a command, not a suggestion. "You don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"I don't?" He tugged on his short red hair, his temper suddenly boiling over. "Hakkai, that baby would've been a half-breed, just like me. The only difference between us is that my mom didn't try to kill me until I was eleven. Kannan finished the job before she even gave the kid, or herself, or you a chance."

Gojyo regretted the words as soon as they'd passed his lips. He realized he'd cut Hakkai deeply, but he also knew that he'd spoken the truth.

The phosphorescent green glow of Hakkai's chi shimmered around him. He had gone absolutely rigid. He had only just begun to discover the extent of his youkai powers, and his control over them was still limited.

Gojyo felt his heart leap into his throat and he scrambled to his feet, instincts screaming for him to get while the getting was good. But he stood as if frozen, torn by guilt.

And then Hakkai went berserk.

A feral expression distorted his usually docile façade as Hakkai exploded into motion. Gojyo gasped, struggling as a vice-like grip closed around his throat. He was viciously slammed into the window behind him. The thick glass crunched beneath his head and Gojyo's vision went black, but for the bright red fireworks bursting across the backs of his eyelids. For a short eternity, Gojyo teetered between consciousness and oblivion, but the instinct of self-preservation tipped the scale.

Gojyo blinked, his head swimming in a way that made him nauseous. Hakkai's infuriated face came into focus mere inches from his, but the man behind the green eyes was months and miles away. The tiny metal cuffs on Hakkai's right ear shone an ominous, ghostly white. Panicking, Gojyo clawed at the hand around his neck. He kicked and twisted, trying to shake loose from the crushing grasp. "Hakkai!" he choked. His only answer was the well-aimed fist that connected with his scarred cheek.

Hakkai was so angry he couldn't think. Familiar, horrifying images flooded his brain as he pummeled Gojyo. Only it wasn't Gojyo anymore, but a physical manifestation of his sins, his pain, his loss. The object of his wrath was just a nameless, faceless thing with eyes and hair like blood. All he could see was blood. It coated his hands, and filled his nostrils with the reek of life and death.

Gojyo was beginning to pass out, his chest heaving as he desperately tried to draw enough breath to fill his starving lungs. Old lessons, well-learned, had quickly overridden the natural urge to defend himself. He'd stopped fighting after the first few punches, though he continued to pry frantically at the hand around his neck. "Ha-hakkai...Stop, dammit! Please," Gojyo gasped, loosing his battle with consciousness.

The next blow went wide, Hakkai's fist slamming into the wall at the whispered sound of his name; his second-chance name, the one the Sanbutshin had given him last year after...after.... Hakkai shook his head, unwilling to see and yet unable to resist the memory of Kannan's broken smile as her blood washed the floor. He was shaking so hard that the limp form he held began to rattle against the wall.

His right ear burned like fire and he reached up to touch the limiters, only to find them cool. Frustrated, Hakkai recoiled, holding his head. The body he'd been holding dropped to the floor, an unmoving tangle of limbs.