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.