Clarity

    Early autumn sunsets have a way of softening the edges of everything - particularly if there are none. Red-orange light coloured the motions of careful, pale hands as they tamped tobacco down in preparation for a moment of peace.

    Ukoku watched with bemusement and not a little relief. He'd been on this recent journey for some time, and the familiar comfort of Koumyou's accustomed routine was salve to his abraded sensibilities. It seemed that no matter how far he traveled (was that to or from, he wondered), there was always this to call him back. A tiny smirk curled Ukoku's lip as these thoughts returned, circling back on themselves as they had been for so many years, now. For all that Ukoku had ever known or discovered, this one thing still eluded him. He expected (hoped?) that it always would.

    The tip of the pipe slipped between well-known lips, and Ukoku struck a match, shielding the delicate flame as he raised it in offering. Koumyou's eyes - warm with flecks of brown in the slanting light - met Ukoku's and a hand cupped around his to share the sheltering task.

    Then he smiled, like early autumn sunset.

Beautiful Disaster

    Though neither of them was precisely overburdened with close friends, each of them did have a small circle of acquaintances who watched over them.  It was widely understood that though this oversight was necessary, it would be less than entirely appreciated, should it be discovered.  So, when the two of them collided, there wasn't much that could have been done from either end to keep them apart.

    Tenpou (he insisted that even his students call him by his given name - the old joke being that he couldn't remember his own family name) had never much been one for pesky things like fashion, punctuality, or reality.  He was a whirlwind of things askew and fluttering, a pool of oddness and brilliance that no one dared to deny.  In all things, Tenpou was electric, eclectic, eccentric and academically voracious.  What he was not, was organised, focused, or remotely interested in other people beyond their effect upon his environment.

    Gojyo was precisely three-quarters of an inch from hoodlum.  He slumped and slouched, drank to excess and made his living in generally unsavoury (if not quite illegal) ways.  That red head didn't hide untapped depths of intelligence and wit, nor did his knack for reading people lead him to deep thoughts or artistic endeavours.  Messy, disorganised, negatively talented with food and a general layabout, the only thing he took seriously was swindling other people into giving him their money.

    Those who watched them all shook their heads when a whim to learn to play poker took Tenpou and he came away with a newfound love of statistics...and Gojyo.  They laughed nervously when the pair began living together, unanimously deciding to invite them out, rather than ever attempt a visit to their home.  Images of papers on the verge of avalanche, overfilled ashtrays and sinks full of unwashed dishes kept them all true to their decision.  And they waited, those people who cared for them, for it to fall apart.  It was, they agreed, a disaster in the making.

    Thirty-seven years later, Tenpou stood with a blank expression as Gojyo's funeral rites were read.  He performed his duties, nodding and shaking hands through the day, and Oh, how wonderful that they had found each other ringing in his ears, but his expression never changed.  When he slipped away, it took a full hour for anyone to notice his absence.  Once, Tenpou would have smiled at that, but not now.  Not ever again.

    It was fortunate that Tenpou was missed at work; his body was discovered quickly, and he was laid to rest beside Gojyo.  The turnout for Tenpou was smaller, since only those who had been watching over them felt a need to attend.  They cried genuine tears of loss and joy, talking amongst themselves of the privilege of having been allowed to watch the most beautiful disaster that ever had been.

Important Day

    Gojyo woke to the warmth of the late morning sun on his skin, shining in through the crack between the curtains.  He yawned, stretching his neck with a satisfying snap.  He loved mornings like this.  The comfort of his own bed, no hangover...and the tantalizing smell of breakfast meandering in from the kitchen.  Gods, it just didn't get any better than this.  

    He grinned hugely as he rose, grabbing his last clean pair of pants and pulling them on.  A cigarette, a cup of coffee...and something else that niggled at the back of his mind.  There was something important about today.  Gojyo bent to scoop up his smoke pack as he passed the coffee table, a slight frown creasing his brow.  Damn it, he'd been waiting for today for some reason, now what the hell was it?  He shook a cigarette out of the pack and put it between his lips.  Stepping into the kitchen, he looked around for Hakkai.  

    Hakkai wasn't there.  What the fuck...?  Gojyo flicked his lighter to life and cupped a hand around the flame as he touched to the end of his smoke.  It was too early for Hakkai to have gone to the market, and besides, there was still rice cooking for breakfast.  Scratching his head, Gojyo went to the cupboard and poured himself a cup of coffee.  Hakkai hadn't gone far, obviously.  

    Turning to lean against the counter, he took a drag of his smoke, and then a sip of his coffee.  Now, what the fuck was up with today?  Hakkai's birthday wasn't for months, Goku's had just gone by (not that he'd have been waiting for that, in any case).  It wasn't the 'anniversary' that Gojyo had celebrated alone for the past two years...and that brought him to the end of the things that he would have looked forward to enough that it would be bugging him like this.  

 Gojyo padded to the table and was just sliding into a chair when Hakkai opened the door.  He stepped inside, carrying an empty laundry basket, and Gojyo remembered.  It was spring. It had been unseasonably warm for the past several days, and it was laundry day.  

    Every possible plan for the day was unceremoniously dumped, in favour of staying home to watch Hakkai clean the house in shorts and one of Gojyo's sleeveless shirts. 

    Oh, yeah.


Comfortable Silence

    It was quiet on the walk, most of the inhabitants of the temple winding down the day's activities and readying themselves for bed.  The sun was sinking behind the hills, leaving the evening shadows to crawl over the ground and beneath the buildings.  Colours mellowed and blended like chalk drawings in the rain and even the sounds seemed to muffle themselves to suit the image of evening.

    Ribbons of tobacco smoke wound their way into the cool air, safe beneath the eaves, but pulled gently to threads as the breeze touched them.  A bottle of hot sake sat on the boards between them, ochoko like twin pools, reflecting them back to themselves.  Leaves rustled and birds sang their evening songs of joy and loss to enhance the surrounding silence.

    Side by side, the night and the moonlight waited for the coming of the time that belonged to them, equally and alone.



Breakable

    Most of the time, everything was fine.  Hakkai smiled and puttered about, cleaning up and making jokes at Gojyo's expense, which was just fine by Gojyo.  He liked Hakkai like that, even if he didn't even understand the majority of the jibes aimed at him.  There was always an edge to the guy, but that was understandable, given what he'd been through.  He liked the edge, too.  He understood the edge.

    What scared him were the times when Hakkai got quiet, and didn't bother to make fun of Gojyo's sloppiness or his tendency to lose to Hakkai at cards, or his utter hopelessness in the kitchen.  Those times, that edge turned inside out, and Hakkai would touch Gojyo like he was made of porcelain.  For a long time, Gojyo didn't know what to do when Hakkai got like that.  He still hated it, but he came to understand it.

    Now, when it happened, Gojyo swallowed his fear and just let Hakkai's hands roam his body too lightly, let his kisses be too gentle and his motions be too soft for Gojyo's preferences.  Because now he knew that when he treated Gojyo like glass, it was to keep Hakkai from shattering.